TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=89TT2356> <title> Sep. 11, 1989: South Africa:The Great White Hope </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989 Sep. 11, 1989 The Lonely War:Drugs </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> WORLD, Page 42 SOUTH AFRICA The Great White Hope </hdr><body> Could De Klerk be the man to break apartheid's grip? South African politics seems so immutable that suspense is not even an element in this week's parliamentary elections. The National Party will no doubt retain the ruling power it has held for more than four decades, even if challengers on the right and left gain a few seats. The real debate is over what comes after the election and the inauguration of F.W. de Klerk as State President on Sept. 16. Will he fulfill his promise to negotiate a new deal for the country's black majority, or will he cling to the central tenets of apartheid, only with a smiling face? De Klerk, who has been acting President since P.W. Botha resigned abruptly Aug. 14, is the great-grandson, grandson and son of hard-line politicians. Last week, in typical style, he was sending out signals of both toughness and flexibility. Continuing the tentative opening to black African states begun by Botha, De Klerk met with Zambian President Kenneth Kaunda in Livingstone, near the Victoria Falls. Kaunda, a fierce opponent of apartheid who chairs the so-called Frontline States bordering South Africa, received him cautiously, preferring to wait and see what the new President might do. De Klerk had outlined some "basic principles," Kaunda said, and with those, "I see no disagreement at all." Said De Klerk: "He listened very carefully." Back home, however, South African police were using whips, tear gas and detentions to put down the biggest outburst of rioting and civil disobedience since the state of emergency was declared in June 1986. Campaigning on a promise of new vision from a new leader, De Klerk committed himself to launching a "great indaba," a national convention, that would write a new constitution giving the blacks, 75% of the population, a role in national politics for the first time. "Dialogue and negotiations are the key to the future," he said, "and we are going to turn that key." Blacks are skeptical, and many whites afraid, but a feeling is growing that some kind of major transition is coming to South Africa. To a great extent, whether it is relatively peaceful or violent will be up to De Klerk. There is no question that the new chief executive is a more reasonable and affable person than his scowling, finger-wagging predecessor, and one far more attuned to the art of public relations. A senior diplomat in Cape Town believes De Klerk has "fewer hang-ups" about blacks than Botha: "He is articulate, self-confident and earnest." At the same time, De Klerk is a conservative Afrikaner from the sun-baked Transvaal and the man who said earlier this year, "There is no such thing as a nonracial society in a multiracial country." Rumors, or possibly calculated leaks, are circulating that De Klerk intends to set the stage for his indaba by releasing imprisoned black nationalist Nelson Mandela, easing the state of emergency and removing the ban on the political wing of the outlawed African National Congress. Even so, black leaders doubt that De Klerk will suddenly back away from his repeated pledges to protect white "group rights," maintain segregated residential districts and schools and develop a system of political institutions based solely on race. Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu, for one, is unimpressed. "Whatever white government comes into power," says he, "this country is going to the dogs." To underline the same conviction, the Mass Democratic Movement, a loose coalition of banned antiapartheid organizations, launched a "defiance campaign" a month ago. Protesters have been forcibly entering such officially segregated places as whites-only hospitals, buses and beaches. Predictably, police swooped down on the offices and homes of defiance organizers and arrested hundreds of activists. Meanwhile, riot squads fired bird shot and rubber bullets to disperse rock throwers, and used batons and tear gas to break up peaceful marches. De Klerk warned that he would not tolerate "those who advocate violence and confrontation in the name of peaceful resistance." In the midst of an election campaign, he could hardly take a softer position without scaring more frightened white voters into the camp of the ultraright Conservative Party. But speaking for the M.D.M., Tutu said solemnly, "The defiance campaign will continue until it reaches the goal of dismantling apartheid. We are not playing marbles, man." The Archbishop was tear-gassed at a demonstration two weeks ago, and he and his wife Leah were among the 36 activists who were arrested in downtown Cape Town last week as they began a march to protest the alleged beating of clergy and other church workers during an antiapartheid demonstration. Western governments and the Commonwealth, holding new economic sanctions at the ready, are also watching De Klerk for signs of movement. "We want to see whether anything is actually done, whether political prisoners are released and the state of emergency is lifted," said a State Department official in Washington. Like the white voters of South Africa, most of the world is in a mood to give De Klerk a chance. There is no evidence yet that the moment for significant change is at hand in South Africa. But if it is, no one wants to let it slip away untested. </body></article> </text>