Political Empowerment and Restraint

No country in modern times has made a successful transition starting from a position like South Africa, [having endured] ten years of economic decline [and] significant and rising violence. . . . The time for economic and social transformation is before the transition to democracy, not after.³

The value of Scott's analysis was its emphasis on the three essential elements of transition: the political, economic, and social. But Scott identified economic growth as a precondition for peaceful political transformation, a course that was not open to South Africa. By the 1980s, the political conflict and division resulting from three and a half centuries of colonialism and four and a half decades of apartheid made it necessary to reverse Scott's order. Political domination by the white minority would have to be abolished by a settlement that included the liberation movements representing the black majority before significant progress could be made on the economic and social fronts.

It is much too soon to cry victory, even politically. South Africa has safely traversed two of the three precarious passages that, according to transition theory, are required in a transition from authoritarian rule to democracy. The first, the beginning of the transition phase, occurred under P. W. Botha, who tried to modernize apartheid, which only fueled opposition and a new United Democratic Front. Botha's successor, F. W. de Klerk, presided over the second stage during the 1980s and early 1990s, which culminated in the first universal franchise election on April 27, 1994. This "founding election" generally marks the second stage of progress towards democracy. The longer, less dramatic, but still essential third step of consolidating South Africa's new democratic institutions will probably last for another decade. The struggle to sustain and improve democracy in South Africa--as in any other nation--is a never-ending one.

The imperative of keeping the political process on track will determine what is possible, and necessary, on the economic and social fronts. Without sufficient political stability in South Africa, economic growth and social cohesion will remain elusive. Likewise, economic decline and social disintegration could derail the political process. In the political domain, three elements--leadership, the new constitution, and the role of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission--shed light on how South Africa contained the threat of mass violence and is creating the foundations for sustainable democracy.

Opening The Way To Reconciliation:
Leaders Matter

Each leader's decision to opt for negotiations rather than the use of force reflected both practical and moral imperatives. Several factors helped to put South Africa on the pathway to democratic peace²:

• Although de Klerk presided over a military that could prevail in the short run, and Mandela (or his successors) could reasonably expect to be able to overcome their military disadvantage in the long run, war at any time would surely wreck the South African economy, the most advanced in sub-Saharan Africa, leaving the victor with few spoils and no means to consolidate victory and to govern.

• Economically, South Africa was a much more integrated society than many other countries now beset by civil conflict. The economy was sufficiently developed to offer ambitious South Africans of all races a means other than the state to acquire wealth and respect. Despite huge economic disparities and the different economic experiences of black leaders returning from exile and the black majority forced to live under apartheid, a cross-racial consumer culture had begun to emerge by the late 1980s. Today this common consumer culture, which prizes pragmatism and deal making in order to reap economic benefits, helps hold the society together.

• Even though black South Africans lacked the military capability to overthrow the South African state, their political behavior made it obvious that they could be governed only through increasingly costly repression.

• The moral hazards of war were also very high for both sides. Defense of the status quo by force would be decried as genocide, while the use of force by blacks against a white minority that had vowed to reform risked alienating white majorities in the powerful Western nations.

• Common religious and moral beliefs have helped overcome racial and cultural distinctions between black and white South Africans: 78 percent of South Africans are Christian. The elaborate ideological theology of the Afrikaner Dutch Reformed Church had been used by whites to give apartheid a religious justification, but in the 1970s black leadership began to emerge in the Anglican, Catholic, and other sects with worldwide ties. These churches became, in the term of the day, a "site of struggle." Rather than fighting the government, progressive church leaders first sought an ecumenical religious accord to challenge the moral basis of apartheid. This culminated with the 1987 joint declaration by all the major denominations that condemned the apartheid regime as morally illegitimate. Although late in the apartheid era, the declaration was important because it was issued at a critical moment in the debate within the white community about the future of minority rule.

• With the passage of the 1979 labor legislation, which opened the way for collective bargaining, particularly in the vital mining sector, South Africans finally began substantive negotiations across the racial divide. This and other reforms did little to enhance the legitimacy of the South African state--internationally or for the country's alienated majority--but did give blacks real power and negotiation experience that contributed to the "bargaining culture" after 1990.

• During the 1970s and 1980s, the effectiveness of the state also had been eroding: demographic pressures rendered influx control unworkable; deteriorating fiscal health was evident in the government's increasing dependence on deficit financing; revelations of spreading corruption among public officials of the National Party began to weaken the government's standing among whites; and, most important, there was rising domestic and international support for the hundreds of independent groups that had come together in the anti-apartheid United Democratic Front.

• The white community also was becoming increasingly averse to making material sacrifices to preserve its political privileges and increasingly resigned to what was coming to be seen as an inevitable shift of political power to the black majority. Evasions of military conscription rose, emigration rates and capital flight increased, and polling data showed a growing alienation from hard-line pro-apartheid politicians.

• The South African government was confronted with the prospect of an economy that, without outside resources, would never be revitalized and that had no prospect of gaining the resources it needed--credit, investment, technology, or markets--unless it undertook major political reforms.

Several international factors also affected leadership calculations about what was possible and necessary:

• Foremost among these factors was the end of the Cold War. The 1984 summit between Presidents Reagan and Gorbachev in Reykjavik, Iceland, began a new era of U.S.-Soviet relations that had a major impact on the politics of Southern Africa, notably their joint efforts to facilitate the independence of Namibia. As the threat of international Communism faded, the National Party was robbed of a demon that it had long used to mobilize support at home and temper hostility abroad, especially among the Western powers. At the same time, the failure of Communism deprived the liberation forces of a traditional source of support and, ironically, allowed Nelson Mandela greater leeway to restrain the more radical elements within his own movement. By the early 1990s there was no ideological rallying point other than freedom and democracy to rally international support and mobilize internal forces.

• International efforts to resolve long-standing conflicts in Angola and Mozambique further isolated the South African government, which for years had helped fuel these conflicts, and encouraged more concerted diplomatic efforts to promote a negotiated end to apartheid. These wars had also greatly strained the South African security forces, which were deeply involved in supporting rebel movements in these countries while trying to quell unrest at home. Countering the Cubans in Angola had become especially costly in the 1980s.

• At the same time, the damage that civil war brought in Angola, Mozambique, and elsewhere in Africa--whatever the causes--is today cited by both black and white South Africans as justification for seeking a peaceful end to apartheid.

• Finally, a large number of foreign ngos, private foundations, trade unions, universities, and other educational and professional organizations were either active in South Africa or were helping to train and advise a wide diversity of South Africans abroad. Although they were not directly part of the political bargaining process, they helped to create an environment conducive to compromise, as well as building the human and institutional capacity to bargain effectively and to implement agreements.

Against this backdrop, Nelson Mandela and F. W. de Klerk have shown both "strategic" and "operational" leadership at critical stages in the transition process. These two sides of effective leadership are described by Mikhail Gorbachev in "Nonviolent Leadership," an essay prepared for the Carnegie Commission.⁵ Strategic leadership, according to Gorbachev, "paves society's path to the future . . . when the sources feeding the old system are exhausted and new activities, reforms or even revolutions are needed." Operational leadership, "the solution of daily and ongoing managerial tasks," requires a "timely response to the problems of domestic and international life . . . [including] the settlement of conflicts and interest collisions. The main objective of strategic leadership, however, is to prevent such problems from occurring in the first place. . . . Keeping a balance between the two is probably the highest art of policymakers. . . ."

In South Africa's political transition Nelson Mandela and F. W. de Klerk initially shared strategic leadership. But once Mandela left prison, de Klerk's role became largely operational until he relinquished power in 1994. De Klerk and Mandela were both trained in the law, and, although Mandela was unjustly held in prison for twenty-seven years, a sentence sanctioned by a legal system that was regarded by the vast majority of Mandela's followers as fundamentally illegitimate, the two leaders brokered a compromise that would reform, rather than abolish, the nation's basic legal and government structures and principles of due process. Since the April 1994 elections, the overwhelming burden of leadership--strategic and operational--has rested with President Mandela.

Mandela's first challenge at the start of the negotiating process was, in effect, to function as a national leader while still a prisoner of the state. The process by which he secured the trust and respect of his adversaries and renewed the faith of his followers has been described at length elsewhere.⁶ Mandela's approach to nation building deftly balanced the hopes and fears of those who stood to lose and those who would gain political power. He gave carefully considered and strong support for rights-based government, coalition politics, and civil society--a formula similar to the "Republican model of government" advocated by America's first president, George Washington.⁷

From the onset of negotiations in March 1989, the genius of Mandela's leadership has been to hold forth a vision of South African democracy that effectively has reassured the white minority that the deprivations they had so long imposed upon the black majority would not one day be imposed upon them, while reassuring the nonwhite majority that the abuse of power they had had to endure for so long would never happen again. "The individual rights and national self-determination of the South African people," he declared at the May 8, 1996, adoption of the new South African constitution, "Shall not be inhibited, but reinforced by the collective rights of communities."⁸

A successful balancing of individual and group rights will, however, depend on such factors as a healthy economy, which are largely beyond the control of political leaders and which will be especially problematic for South Africa. President Mandela has sought to temper the economic expectations of whites, who hope to retain the material fruits of entrenched economic privilege, and of the black majority that remains overwhelmingly poor and so eager for new opportunities for advancement. President Mandela has deftly sought to link economic opportunity and responsible self-government in ways that do not deny hard realities but that avoid a forced redistribution of wealth. As he noted in his address celebrating South Africa's new constitution:

The new constitution obliges us to strive to improve the quality of life of the people. In this sense, our national consensus recognizes that there is nothing else that can justify the existence of government but to redress the centuries of unspeakable privations, by striving to eliminate poverty, illiteracy, homelessness and disease. It obliges us too, to promote the development of independent civil society structures.

The reference to civil society is a reminder of a key element of Mandela's leadership, the belief that neither government nor a particular leader can guarantee the development and well-being of the nation. He returned to this theme and the responsibility of citizens in thanking

. . . the representatives of almost every organized sector of civil society which made their inputs into the process: the legal fraternity, women, local communities, traditional structures, and leaders of sectors of business, labor, land issues, the media, arts and culture, the disabled, children's rights and many more.

President Mandela's claim and approach to leadership were shaped during his twenty-seven years as a political prisoner. When he finally assumed power late in life, his ideas and moral authority, rather than the bargaining and coalition-building skills of a more coventional politician, have marked his brief but historic time as head of state. He has effectively established a founding myth for the post-apartheid nation, with the help of F. W. de Klerk, particularly during the critical period of March 1992. How his successors will choose to build on this legacy is difficult to predict, especially with all the uncertainties about the challenges of further consolidating democracy and dealing with South Africa's huge economic and social inequities. A few of the elements of good leadership are indisputable. First, leaders must avoid any hint of corruption or displays of arrogance that would undermine citizen trust and patience during the period of economic transformation. Second, no leader can act, or appear to act, in ways that are above the law or extraconstitutional. In a multiethnic state with wide disparities of wealth, such behavior can quickly polarize ethnic or racial groups and lead to government failure and mass violence. Mandela's strategic goal of building a secure democracy in which constitutional structures, processes, and principles ensure that any future conflict in South Africa will be settled through due process and the rule of law, rather than through the force of arms or in ways that favor one race or ethnic group above another, must remain paramount. Henceforth, South African politics must revolve around the policies of the state and not the color of those who run it.

Constitutional Framework for Democratic Peace

South African constitutional experts, jurists, and politicians studied and debated the successes and failures of other constitutional democracies, drawing most heavily on the experience of the Federal Republic of Germany. But the 137-page document they produced to guide their nation's development is uniquely South African. It does not fit into any classic constitutional mold. According to the leader of the Democratic Party and one of the constitution's many architects, Colin Eglin, "It is neither classically federal nor unitary, presidential nor parliamentary, liberal nor conservative. It does not embody a complete separation of powers, yet it avoids an excessive concentration of powers."⁹

The goal of the Constitutional Assembly was to produce a new order in South Africa that is truly democratic, not just representative but also transparent, responsive, and accountable. Complicating the construction of this new order was the need to accommodate South Africa's deep and sometimes dizzying diversity of language, culture, religion, and political persuasions. For a nation that was governed for over three centuries by authoritarian white minorities that practiced divide-and-rule policies, the great challenge was to find a formula that would guarantee rights for all and foster a greater sense of collective responsibility for the nation and its future.

In order to limit the excessive concentration of power and accommodate diversity within and among regions, the constitution provides for government to be structured at three levels: local government, known as municipalities; nine provinces, each with its own elected legislature and an executive; and a three-branch national structure. In addition, there is a lengthy bill of rights which covers a vast range of topics, from the most fundamental political rights (for instance, privacy and freedom of expression, religion, and association), to social and economic rights (access to education, employment, housing, food, and water, for example), to more specific rights of the person (for example, the right of a child to have a name or a woman to have an abortion).

The constitution accommodates cultural diversity but avoids granting formal standing or special rights to particular "cultural groups." It allows cultural diversity to be expressed in a voluntary, organic manner by securing the rights of citizens, either individually or collectively as communities, to "enjoy their culture, practice their religion and use their language" and to form "associations and other organs of civil society." The state is also prohibited from discriminating against its citizens on the grounds of such characteristics as ethnic or social origin, language, or religion.

The national parliament has two chambers, a National Assembly whose members are elected on proportional representation through a national common voters' roll, and a National Council of Provinces, composed of delegates elected by each of the nine provincial legislatures. The National Executive consists of the president, who is elected by the National Assembly, plus a cabinet, which he appoints. The president and his cabinet are directly accountable to the National Assembly and its committees. A majority vote of no confidence by the National Assembly requires a president to resign. An independent judiciary, including a Constitutional Court that is appointed by a Judicial Service Commission, upholds the constitution as the supreme law of the land.

At the provincial level there is also an elected legislature and an executive accountable to that legislature. Provincial governments have extensive legislative powers that are specified in the constitution. The constitution makes provision for the "equitable division of revenue raised nationally among the national, provincial and local spheres of government," although provincial governments (and local governments) have only limited powers of taxation.

At the local level, the constitution provides for the establishment of municipalities covering the entire territory of the Republic. The elected legislature (council) of a municipality and its executive "has the right to govern, on its own initiative, the local government affairs of its community, subject to national and provincial legislation, as provided for in the constitution. National and provincial government may not compromise or impede a municipality's ability or right to exercise its powers or perform its functions."

Three issues, which may be harbingers of tests of constitutionality in the years ahead, nearly derailed the constitution's adoption just hours before the Constitutional Assembly's deadline to adjourn. The first had to do with education and was brought to a head by Afrikaners, who succeeded at the last minute in including provisions requiring respect for differences of language and culture in the formulation of education policy. A second sticking point was property rights. Businesses feared the government might attempt to seize mineral rights, but this was resolved by dropping the word "mineral" from the property clause. And third, trade unions wanted to exclude a provision that would sustain the right of business to lock out striking employees; the Assembly agreed to this demand, but then reassured business by allowing existing legislation to stand. Despite these difficulties, constitution making in South Africa served the cause of national reconciliation in at least two important ways: it provided a nonviolent forum for conflict resolution; and the lengthy and far-reaching negotiations helped to educate the public about the rights and responsibilities inherent in a democracy.

When the constitution was finally adopted, the chair of the National Assembly, Cyril Ramaphosa, proudly declared it to be the "Mecca" of constitutions: "People would travel far to see how democracy has been enshrined in South Africa." He may be right, although the true strength and durability of any constitution can be determined only in practice, across many generations and changing national circumstances. In the case of South Africa, the constitution adopted in May and celebrated by Ramaphosa had to be approved by an eleven-member Constitutional Court before it could even take effect. And after three months of study, the Court ruled in September 1996 that the constitution must be amended to toughen the bill of rights, ensure the independence of "watchdog" agencies, and enhance the powers of provincial governments. The immediate reaction of President Mandela and other political leaders was acceptance of the Court's authority. The content of the Court's action was widely viewed as less important than the fact that by overruling proposals by the governing party it demonstrated its independence and marked another milestone in the development of constitutional democracy in South Africa. The new constitution was formally signed by President Mandela on December 6, 1996.

Looking farther ahead, the constitution could evolve into a document with provisions that no one currently envisions. The constitution can be amended by a two-thirds majority of the National Assembly, although the Constitutional Court has ruled that a stricter standard should apply for the bill of rights. However it evolves, it seems safe to conclude that the constitution provides a solid basis for representative, transparent, and accountable governance, with meaningful protection and promotion of fundamental rights. As such, it does hold promise as an inspiration for other countries in transition, particularly those that are attempting to build viable coalitions under conditions of diverse cultures, deep economic disparities, and limited political authority and financial resources.

At the heart of the South African constitution lie the same political ideals that motivated the drafters of the U.S. Constitution, despite the contradiction of slavery. The first concern in both cases was to ensure permanent liberation from any further oppression: The struggle for liberty, ultimately, is not about freedom from government but about building capacity for self-government, which alone makes the practice of freedom possible. The South African constitution, like the one drafted for America some 200 years ago, recognizes--if for somewhat different reasons--that sovereignty need not reside in a single place. The dispersal of sovereignty to provinces and local communities allows for multiple sites of civic engagement that is a necessary, if insufficient, condition for successful pluralistic democracy. It encourages citizen responsibility, on the one hand, and discourages coercion, on the other.

At this stage, South Africans understandably are still preoccupied with breaking free from the legacy of apartheid. But the government also recognizes that the new nation must become more than an escape from the past if it is to build a solid political foundation for the future. ANC leaders are therefore encouraging all citizens to think afresh--at a very personal level--about what it means to be South African. They are also encouraging the nation to come to terms collectively with the realities of South African history, primarily through the mechanism of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

Redefining and Reconciling National Identities

Mbeki's conception of being an African begins with the common ties all South Africans have to the nation's land and natural environment. He notes that at times he has wondered whether "I should concede equal citizenship of our country to the leopard and the lion, the elephant and the springbok, the hyena, the black mamba and the pestilential mosquito." But the heart of his statement deals with transforming cultural diversity from the basis of oppression to the basis of democracy that now defines -- South Africans as Africans. The following excerpts suggest the scope of his appeal to all citizens:

I owe my being to the Khoi and the San whose desolate souls haunt the great expanses of the beautiful Cape--they who fell victim to the most merciless genocide our native land has ever seen, they who were the first to lose their lives in the struggle to defend our freedom and [in]dependence and they who, as a people, perished in the result. . . . I am formed of the migrants who left Europe to find a new home on our native land. Whatever their own actions, they remain still, part of me.

In my veins course the blood of the Malay slaves who came from the East. Their proud dignity informs my bearing, their culture a part of my essence. The stripes they bore on their bodies from the lash of the slave master are a reminder embossed on my consciousness of what should not be done.

I am the grandchild of the warrior men and women that Hintsa and Sekhukhune led, the patriots that Cetshwayo and Mphephu took to battle, the soldiers Moshoeshoe and Ngungunyane taught never to dishonour the cause of freedom. . . .

I am the grandchild who lays fresh flowers on the Boer graves at St. Helena and the Bahamas, who sees in the mind's eye and suffers the suffering of a simple peasant folk, death, concentration camps, destroyed homesteads, a dream in ruins.

I am the child of Nonquause. I am he who made it possible to trade in the world markets in diamonds, in gold, in the same food for which my stomach yearns.

I come of those who were transported from India and China, whose being resided in the fact, solely, that they were able to provide physical labor, who taught me that we could both be at home and be foreign, who taught me that human existence itself demanded that freedom was a necessary condition for that human existence. . . .

I have seen what happens when one person has superiority of force over another, when the stronger appropriate to themselves the prerogative even to annul the injunction that God created all men and women in his image. . . .

The great masses who are our mother and father will not permit that the behavior of the few results in the description of our country and people as barbaric.

We are assembled here today to mark their victory in acquiring and exercising their right to formulate their own definition of what it means to be African. The constitution whose adoption we celebrate constitutes an unequivocal statement that we refuse to accept that our Africanness shall be defined by our race, colour, gender or historical origins. . . . It gives concrete expression to the sentiment we share as Africans . . . that the people shall govern.

This statement provides the rationale for a common South African national identity that would support and be supported by the new constitution. Barriers to implementing such a robust national allegiance remain, despite the success of the Constitutional Assembly and the broad support for President Mandela's leadership. To overcome the deeper concerns that could impede the development of democratic pluralism, the government is encouraging all South Africans to confront more openly the legacy of apartheid. The principal instrument for doing so has been the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (trc), a seventeen-member panel chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu; the commission was established by the government in December 1995 with a two-year life.

The purpose of the TRC is to heal old wounds, not reopen them. It is about forgiving, not forgetting, the deeds and misdeeds of the apartheid era. The TRC's main tasks are to apportion reparations to victims, to grant amnesty to perpetrators, and to compile an official history of the nation's transition from raw repression to majority rule. This has been a difficult and delicate balance to strike.

During the tense political negotiations to end apartheid, the ANC had to walk a tightrope, assuaging the fears of those who were giving up power while at the same time avoiding a perception among its own rank and file that elites were selling out. To gain agreement the ANC went a long way to contain the fears of the white minority. It offered as part of a general amnesty guarantees of nonretribution against those who had implemented or defended apartheid and pledged that state officials could keep their jobs and their pensions. The vast majority of ANC members who accepted the many concessions to the white minority risked a popular backlash among the new voting majority should they conclude that the perpetrators of crimes under apartheid were deemed more worthy of consideration than their victims. It was essential for the ANC to address these concerns.

The political process that led to the formation of the TRC provides another illustration of the new nation's commitment to democracy. Ironically, some suggest the precursor of the TRC was an internal ANC commission of inquiry that was established not to expose the crimes of apartheid but in response to accusations before the 1994 general election that the ANC itself had perpetrated human rights abuses in some of its exile camps. When the first report was criticized as biased, a second, more independent commission was named to look into the ANC's record, and a more general debate over how to come to grips with the nation's troubled past began to develop. Two major conferences were organized by nongovernmental organizations, with the participation of human rights experts from other countries in Eastern and Central Europe and Latin America that were in transition; the reports that they produced were widely discussed at workshops and meetings around the country. In addition, South Africans studied the experiences of the nineteen truth commissions that have operated since the 1970s, or are currently being formed, in sixteen other countries. Much of this research and deliberation informed the work and public hearings of the parliamentary standing committee on justice that was charged with preparing a bill for what became the TRC.

In July 1995 President Mandela assented to the Promotion of National Unity and Reconciliation Act that the Parliament had approved by an overwhelming majority. The Act was not, however, without its critics. Before the actual formation of the commission, F. W. de Klerk warned that it could become a one-sided witch hunt that could bring reconciliation to a standstill. The chief executive of the South African Institute for Race Relations rejected nomination to be a commissioner for similar reasons. More conservative whites expressed fears that the TRC might spark renewed racial conflict. On the other side, more radical elements in the ANC protested that the TRC would equate the relatively minor human rights violations by the ANC in its struggle against apartheid with the actions of those defending a system that the UN had declared to be a "crime against humanity." Some in the ANC also were unhappy that TRC terms of reference covered only the period 1960 to 1993, arguing that the period under review should go back at least to 1948, when the National Party came to power, if not all the way back to the arrival of the first white settlers in 1652.

The ANC minister for safety and security, Sydney Mufamadi, tried to assure the critics that the TRC's role was to facilitate reconciliation, that no one would be prosecuted as a result of coming forward, and that all the government wanted was to let people know what really happened. To imbue the TRC with further legitimacy, President Mandela appointed a multiracial and political diverse representative committee to solicit names from the public, hold hearings, vet the candidates, and then send him a list of twenty-five nominations from which he would pick seventeen commissioners. Nearly three hundred citizens applied and were considered.

The democratic approach to the formation of the TRC continues to characterize its operations; this distinguishes the South African experiment from the truth commissions of other countries.11 Hearings before the commission--testimony from the victims as well as those seeking amnesty--are conducted at locations throughout the country, and they are open to the media and to the general public. Managing this process has posed major logistical and legal problems, but the transparency has provided an important opportunity for public education, healing, and reconciliation that continues to gain support and national respect. Other factors that have contributed to its apparent success, and that differ from most other truth commissions, include powers of subpoena and of search and seizure, which gives the exercise teeth, and a strict focus on the role of individuals. There is no blanket amnesty, which has caused such disaffection in other countries, as the formerly oppressed conclude that general amnesty amounts to impunity.

To qualify for amnesty, applicants must first complete a prescribed form that requires details of human rights abuse that will be published in the Government Gazette; second, make a full disclosure of all human rights violations; and, third, in most cases appear in open session before the trc. Before amnesty can be granted, the TRC has to be satisfied that the criteria established by Parliament have been met. These have to do with motive, circumstances, chain of command, and other matters. Amnesty is allowed only for acts clearly associated with political objectives, not those motivated by personal gain or personal malice.

By ruling only on individual misdeeds, the TRC risks criticism that only token exposures will be possible. To accommodate these concerns, the life of the commission has been extended to allow more amnesty applications to be made. The TRC has also sought to win public support in three ways. First, commissioners frequently remind the public that the TRC is not a substitute for criminal justice. And as the government has continued to prosecute former military generals and police officials for specific crimes, such as murder, this claim has both insulated the TRC from criticism and encouraged more and more individuals who may fear prosecution to appeal for amnesty. Second, television and other media coverage of the testimony by hitherto unknown victims of apartheid appears to be serving a surrogate function for the millions of other victims who have not had the opportunity to come forward. And finally, more and more prominent individuals have come forward seeking amnesty. After several months of hearing only from a handful of low-ranking officers seeking amnesty, the commission was approached by a group of twenty-two senior police officers and seven generals, including a former law and order minister and a former police commissioner, who sought amnesty. F. W. de Klerk and Deputy President Mbeki also have made separate appearances before the TRC to apologize for past wrongdoings by the National Party and the ANC.

Naturally, not all the TRC's critics have been silenced. The fundamental tension remains between those committed to the politics of compromise and those with a strict notion of justice. In the latter camp are the thousands who suffered grievous personal, familial, and material harm under apartheid and who believe there ought to be no amnesty. Even among the less seriously affected a recurring question is whether the political compromise that produced the TRC can be morally justified. The commission's vice-chair, Alex Boraine, has a simple reply:

It is morally defensible to argue that amnesty is the price we had to pay for peace and stability. Whether in fact a military coup was a reality or not, one thing is certain. If negotiation politics had not succeeded the bitter conflict would have continued and many more human rights violations would have occurred and hundreds, and possibly thousands would have been killed.¹²

In addition to helping prevent deadly conflict, Boraine summarizes well the TRC's constructive contribution to building democratic peace:

Essentially the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is committed to the development of a human rights culture and a respect for the rule of law in South Africa. In attempting to do this, I believe that there is an irreducible minimum and that is a commitment to truth. As Roberto Canas of El Salvador puts it, "Unless a society exposes itself to the truth it can harbour no possibility of reconciliation, reunification and trust. For a peace settlement to be solid and durable it must be based on truth."¹²

Creating a new political and moral order in South Africa cannot be achieved and sustained, however, without an equally determined effort to transform the economic and social life of the majority of South Africa's recently liberated citizens. Previous chapter | Next chapter