Siphokazi Magadla, SACSIS
The 27th of January 2015
marked the 70th anniversary of the ‘liberation’ of Auschwitz-Birkenau. This is
the concentration camp in Poland where an estimated 1.1 million people were
killed by Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Germany during World War II. The victims of
Auschwitz-Birkenau were killed in masses in gas chambers while some were beaten
to death and others died of starvation, endured forced labour and suffered from
infectious diseases. Speaking in front of the International Auschwitz Committee
in Berlin, the German Chancellor Angela Merkel reminded the world that “crimes
against humanity are not time-barred” and challenged that “we will always have
the responsibility of ensuring that the knowledge about these atrocities is
passed on, and of keeping the memories alive.”
Watching the haunting
images of the camp and listening to the testimonies of the few remaining
survivors of the holocaust, I could not help but wonder about how South Africa
and the world will remember apartheid in 2064. The news that Justice Minister
Michael Masutha approved the parole application of Eugene de Kock, the former
commander of the apartheid counter insurgency unit Vlakplaas, after serving 20
years of his two life terms in addition to 212 years for the crimes he
committed, offers insights into the ways in which we can expect memory about
apartheid to be kept “alive” or to disappear into obliviousness at a high cost
for both the past and the future.
Like any other prisoner
in a constitutional democracy, de Kock has the right to use the law to make the
case that he has been a compliant and transformed prisoner who no longer
presents a danger to society. I defend de Kock’s right to apply for parole on
good behaviour, but I object to the claim, by Minister Masutha, that de Kock’s
release serves “nation building and reconciliation”. This form of rhetoric
silences rather than builds the nation.
The discourse of nation
building is employed with such abandon that it is unsurprising that Masutha did
not see it necessary to explain how, exactly, de Kock’s parole contributes to
nation building. The act of contributing to “nation building and
reconciliation” is treated as self-explanatory. At best we are told that de
Kock has made amends with some of his victims and that he remains the only
high-ranking apartheid security officer to cooperate with the state in
revealing the trail of apartheid secrecy in order to expose more of his
counterparts who remain in the shadows, unaccountable for their roles in the
decades of mass violence.
Professor Pumla
Gobodo-Madikezela has long countered the view that de Kock is the sole
embodiment of apartheid evil in our public imagination. She has made the case
that “releasing De Kock would open up the possibility of a movement towards a
new politics of remembrance, one that would help invigorate dialogue about the
kind of future we want and the future of young South Africans.”. In similar
vein, Jacob Dlamini has also argued, “We need him outside to help us come to
terms with the past.”
The danger of this logic
is that in the glare of history, the man formerly known as “Prime Evil” is
transformed and subsumed into the reconciliation narrative and comes out
looking like the lone killer with a conscience in a context where those who
were subjected to his violence are presently under pressure to suppress their
claim to a tragic past for purposes deemed to be more expedient for the
present.
For instance, while de
Kock transforms his image from evil to that of a complex figure, the victims of
apartheid violence are still waiting for Masutha’s Department of Justice to
distribute money to victims of apartheid brutality who were identified by the
TRC as qualifying to receive reparations from the state. These reparations were
allocated to assist them rebuild the lives that were destroyed at the hands of
de Kock and company. In 2014 activists drew attention to the department’s
threat to divert the victim’s compensation fund from the victims of apartheid
to municipal infrastructure projects that have no direct bearing on the lives
of those who participated in the TRC.
In the logic of “nation
building”, a figure like de Kock is transformed into a complicated creature and
room is made for him to recreate himself in ways that supposedly serve the
nation. It is striking, however, to observe that not much room has been made to
accommodate and expand the horizons of those whose wounded bodies offer the
most visible evidence of the trail of apartheid brutality. Instead, as a
service to “reconciliation” this poor majority is expected to express perpetual
gratitude for current partial freedoms in ways that suggest that to talk too
much about the past is to not fully appreciate how far the nation has come.
While liberal democracy
promises the civil liberties that should presumably allow for a robust and
complex engagement with memory, the reality is that many of the wounded are
currently experiencing what theorist Angela Davis defines as a “social and
civil death”, which makes the possibility of a “dialogue” about the past
unlikely. What becomes more likely is that the performance of “nation building”
benefits the perpetrator who emerges as more human in the eyes of future
generations.
The ability of white
males who have terrorized entire societies to escape history’s harsh judgment
is nothing new. In death, Chris Kyle, who is known to be the deadliest sniper
in American history, is hailed as an American hero with a movie that glorifies
his killing of over a hundred Iraqis in order to “protect” America. These
Iraqis that Kyle referred to as “savages”, are left to fend for themselves as
they quietly pick up the pieces of their lives in order to build a nation
destroyed by a mindless war. The price they pay is with their silence. While
Kyle’s crooked image is “made right” by the forces of a chauvinist nationalism.
Drawing lessons from Nazi
Germany for South Africa, Angelo Fick warns against the use of a “toxic mix of
nationalism disguised as patriotism”. While the words “holocaust” and
“apartheid” are particular to the brutalities of twentieth century war. I am not so certain that the weight of
apartheid will be remembered and “kept alive” in this context where memory is
subordinated on behalf of building the nation.
