The compelling story of the apartheid government’s secret attempts to wage a global propaganda war told in Selling Apartheid: South Africa’s Global Propaganda War by Ron Nixon:
“This is an important story that needs to be told about the apartheid government’s global lobbying effort …” – Eleanor Holmes Norton, US House of Representatives
“This is a tale of intrigue, rich characters and large chequebooks, played out in all the Western capitals. This book is for those who want to understand the full intricacies of the Washington–London–Bonn–Pretoria relationship during the years of white minority rule, and the tough strategic and moral questions it raised.” – Anton Harber, Caxton Professor of Journalism, Wits University
Selling Apartheid tells the story of the South African propaganda campaign, run with military precision, which involved a worldwide network of supporters, including global corporations with business operations in South Africa, conservative religious organisations and an unlikely coalition of liberal US black clergy and anti-communist black conservatives aligned with right-wing Cold War politicians. A large focus of the campaign was put on the United States because as its one-time coordinator, Eschel Rhoodie, wrote: “America dominates Western thought as far as Africa is concerned.” Not even the exposure of the programme by South African journalists in the late 1970s, which would bring down a president and send Rhoodie on the run, would stop the worldwide campaign. In fact, it would expand and morph into a much larger and subtler operation. It would end in the early 1990s, only after domestic problems caused the government to focus its energies on issues at home.
The book details interviews with many of the players, such as South African government ministers and civil servants, corporate leaders, anti-apartheid leaders and others, providing a behind-the-scenes look at the attempt to sell apartheid abroad. In addition, thousands of previously unreleased records from both the South African and the United States archives will help shed light on the scope of the campaign and reveal an astonishing story.
“During the course of writing this book, I have asked many people just how successful the efforts of the South African government were to try to influence world policy-makers and ward off the inevitable,” Nixon says.
“In other words, what did Pretoria accomplish by spending hundreds of millions of dollars over nearly five decades on its campaigns to win hearts and minds overseas?
“Neither the commissions set up by the South African government to investigate secret funding nor the Truth and Reconciliation Commission ever attempted to answer the question of what the apartheid government received for the billions it spent on lobbying, setting up front groups and companies, and buying off politicians and journalists. Part of the problem lies with the absence of records.
“It is common knowledge that the apartheid government deliberately and systematically destroyed thousands of pages of records related to its propaganda activities before the handover of power to the ANC in 1994.”
About the author
Ron Nixon is a Washington correspondent for The New York Times. He is a visiting associate in the Department of Media and Journalism Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand, where he teaches investigative reporting and data journalism. He has published an e-book, Operation Blackwash, and was a contributor to The Farrakhan Factor: African-American Writers on Leadership, Nationhood, and Minister Louis Farrakhan (Grover Press) and The American Civil Rights Movement.
» read article
16 June is celebrated as Youth Day in South Africa to memorialise the 1976 Soweto Uprising, which represented a real turning point in South Africa’s history.
Even to contemporaries it seemed to mark the beginning of the end of apartheid. It also brought into the political equation the role of youth, who were to play a vital part in the township revolts of the 1980s.
To commemorate the day, read an excerpt from The Soweto Uprising: A Jacana Pocket History by Noor Nieftagodien:
* * * * *
Causes and character
The student uprising of 16 June 1976 marked a decisive turning point in South Africa’s history. Together with the Durban strikes of 1973, it marked the end of the political quiescence that fell over South Africa in the wake of the Sharpeville massacre and inaugurated a reawakening of black resistance, which ultimately brought apartheid to its knees. On that historic day thousands of Soweto’s students marched behind a single demand – ‘Away with Afrikaans!’ Undoubtedly the immediate cause of the uprising was the state’s decision to impose Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in urban African schools. Students interpreted the policy as part of the government’s ideological assault with the intention of undermining black education yet further and entrenching the secondary status of black youth.
Helena Pohlandt-McCormick has argued that the imposition of Afrikaans ‘was an assertion of power whose structures and ideology would disempower and create perpetual minors of Africans’. Buoyed by apartheid’s success in the 1960s, the National Party became imbued with ideological arrogance, imagining it could impose its doctrinaire racist agenda on the black population with impunity. But, contrary to its intentions, ‘Afrikaans became the symbol of the state’s illegitimacy’. It was evident in the months before and subsequent to the historic march that the struggle against Afrikaans was not simply a problem about language. Encapsulated in the rejection of Afrikaans was a series of grievances about Bantu Education, the dire conditions in the townships, the suppression of black discontent and the denial of black aspirations. In other words, the system – apartheid – had become unbearable.
Despite growing dissatisfaction among black people, political mobilisation remained very limited in the townships during the late 1960s and early 1970s. But there were two parallel processes unfolding in this period that would converge and fundamentally alter black politics. Firstly, there was a sharp increase in the number of African students, especially in secondary schools. For the first time in the country’s history there were millions of black students at school, constituting an important social force. Secondly, Black Consciousness provided young black students with the political tools to understand the nature of their oppression and inculcated in them a spirit of defiance. It also provided political cohesion to what was initially fragmented and dispersed resistance and it openly challenged white hegemony. Black Consciousness had been developed by Steve Biko and his comrades at tertiary institutions, where it quickly gained widespread support. While black university students were to the fore in openly defying white minority rule, their small numbers nationally limited the broader impact of their action. By contrast, the significantly larger school student population possessed much greater potential to influence resistance politics. The 1976 uprising was characterised by the autonomous action of black school students, who mobilised on their own, built their own independent organisations, and crafted political programmes and tactics in the face of severe state repression.
Crisis of apartheid
The 1960s represented the golden age of apartheid: black resistance had been crushed, government policies were implemented largely in accordance with the ideological imperatives of apartheid, the economy experienced unprecedented growth, white prosperity scaled new heights and the ruling National Party consolidated its grip on state power. From the late 1950s the government began introducing changes to key aspects of its policies, inaugurating the phase of ‘high apartheid’, which sought to consolidate white minority rule. A central aim was to reverse African urbanisation, to reduce the African presence in ‘white’ urban areas and to bolster the African population of the ethnic ‘homelands’. The renewed emphasis on and politicisation of ethnicity were exemplified by the passing of the Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act in 1959, which signalled the government’s intention to attach all Africans to a ‘tribal’ community and authority. At the same time Africans were denied a permanent status in the urban areas. ‘Separate development’ became the principal ideological tool used to legitimise the continued disenfranchisement of black people.
A leading government minister, M.C. Botha, expressed the state’s policy in this way: ‘natives without work or who, as approved workers, have misbehaved, must disappear out of white South Africa, back to the reserves’. Pass controls were also stepped up, which caused the number of pass convictions to increase from close to 380,000 to about 693,000 between 1963 and 1968. Consequently, the number of Africans residing in white urban areas decreased by approximately 200,000, while the population of the homelands increased by nearly one million.
Control over the black population was, of course, also achieved through political repression, specifically the prohibition of black political organisations and the implementation of coercive laws that resulted in the detention, long-term imprisonment, banning or banishment of ‘troublesome’ individuals, as well as killings by judicial and extra-judicial means. Once political stability and control were achieved, foreign and local investors renewed their support for apartheid, with capital inflows reaching new heights: between 1965 and 1974 more than R3500 million was invested in the local economy. In the 1960s South Africa’s GDP increased by between 6 and 8 per cent a year (some suggest a figure of 9 per cent), making it one of the star performers of the global economy. Two noteworthy structural changes occurred at the time: a sharp increase in the monopolisation of the economy and a growth of capital-intensive production. Both processes created a demand for better-educated and skilled labour. While still dependent on and benefiting from relatively cheap labour, industrialists began to demand a steady supply of semi-skilled African labour, which would have far-reaching consequences for the state’s education policy for Africans.
From the vantage of the late 1960s it must have appeared to the state, capital and the white population generally that the system of apartheid – of white power and privilege – was secure and unchallenged. However, even at the height of apartheid’s success, there were already troubling signs on the horizon. A brief recession in 1968 was regarded as an aberration at the time, especially as the economy recovered reasonably quickly and positive growth ensued for a few years thereafter, albeit not at the same levels as before. But this apparent economic hiccup proved to be a harbinger of a much deeper crisis. In retrospect, the period from the late 1960s to the mid1970s could be viewed as a transition from stability to structural crisis affecting every aspect of society. As the multi-faceted crisis unfolded, contestations arose between different factions in the state and between the state and capital over crucial policy issues, relating particularly to the position of black labour in the industrial economy. The most important manifestation of the emerging crisis was the reawakening of black protest, dramatically represented by the 1973 Durban workers’ strikes and the 1976 students’ uprising.
As the economy slipped into crisis, the position of black workers came under serious threat. By the mid1970s the local economy was in the midst of a full-scale recession. As Dan O’Meara has shown, manufacturing output experienced a sharp decline of 6 per cent in the year 1974/75. Worse was to come the following year, when almost every sector of the industrial economy registered steep declines in production. The national economy stagnated in 1976 (showing 0 per cent growth) and over the next decade it grew at a pedestrian rate of only 1.9 per cent. With profit levels under pressure, foreign investment declined, while capital outflows accelerated: as a result, total investment fell precipitously by 13 per cent between 1975 and 1977. One crucial consequence of the economic crisis was a sharp rise in unemployment, especially among African workers. In 1962 the number of unemployed Africans stood at 582,000 but increased to one million in 1970, and more than doubled to reach 2.3 million in 1976. The cost of items on which the working class spent most of its income – food, clothing and transport – increased by 40 per cent between 1958 and 1971 and then, in the financial year 1972/73, by a staggering 30 per cent. The economic crisis affected black workers most severely, and from the late 1960s they began to be more vocal in demanding higher wages.
In January 1973 about 2000 African workers at Coronation Brick and Tile Company in Durban went on strike for a minimum wage of R30 a week. Soon, other workers in the city joined them, and by the end of March more than 160 strikes (involving approximately 60,000 workers) were recorded, easily eclipsing the number of strikes for the entire 1960s. The 1973 strike wave in Durban sparked a resurgence in black trade unions and for the first time in more than a decade black workers exhibited the collective will to challenge white baasskap (dominance) on the factory floor. Within a few years independent unions were launched in the major industrial centres and engaged in protracted struggles with employers over recognition and wages and against arbitrary dismissals. This reassertion of black workers’ militancy constituted the first part of the twin rebirth of black resistance. The second occurred in the townships and was led by students.
Demise of ‘model’ townships
From the mid-1950s the apartheid government systematically and often ruthlessly destroyed old locations, removing their residents to segregated ‘group areas’ and new townships. Hundreds of thousands of black people were dragooned into ‘properly planned’ or ‘model’ townships, which were designed to give expression to racial segregation and social control. Soweto was the exemplar of this process. It grew rapidly as a result of mass housing provision funded by the state and through a loan of R6 million from the Anglo American Corporation. In the decade from 1955 to 1965 approximately 4400 houses a year were built in Soweto. New areas such as Dlamini, Chiawelo, Emdeni, Phiri and Zola were created in this period, representing the most remarkable expansion of one township complex. It marked the emergence of Soweto as the largest African township in the country, with an estimated 87,500 houses in 1966. It was also the high point of housing provision for Africans living in urban areas in apartheid South Africa.
‘Model’ townships such as Soweto, Daveyton, Katlehong, KwaThema, Sebokeng and Atteridgeville were designed to maximise control over the African population. Their grid lay-out, controlled access points and mastlights aimed to ensure effective state surveillance. White administration of townships was augmented with the creation of Bantu Administration Boards in the early 1970s, which gave the central government direct control over the management of township matters. In addition, the police force, comprising a handful of white police, assisted by an army of notorious ‘blackjacks’ (black municipal police), enforced apartheid’s draconian policies in townships. There were 900 ‘blackjacks’ in Soweto alone 14 and they were particularly ruthless in policing pass laws. In 1976 approximately a quarter of a million African men and women were arrested on pass offences nationally.
The government’s decision to promote the ‘homelands’ resulted in a massive reallocation of resources away from black urban areas to the Bantustans. Between 1968 and 1975 expenditure on African housing in urban areas plummeted by 80 per cent: in 1967/68 the state spent R14.4 million on African housing, but three years later that figure was nearly halved to R7.7 million and by 1976/77 stood at a paltry R2.2 million. Between 1966 and 1969 the state built fewer than 2000 new houses in the entire Soweto. By the early 1970s the extent of the mounting housing crisis in Soweto became apparent. In 1970s the township’s official population figure was 597,390, although government statistics generally undercounted the real size of township populations. The Urban Foundation suggested that Soweto’s population in the late 1970s was likely to be closer to one million.
The decline in the construction of houses and the attendant increase in population caused a severe housing shortage in most townships across the country. In the mid-1970s there were slightly more than 100,000 dwellings in Soweto, accommodating an officially estimated population of approximately 600,000. But an industry survey in 1970 found an average of 13 people living in each ‘matchbox’ house in the township. Five years later that figure had increased to 17. Moreover, only 14 per cent of households had electricity and a meagre 3 per cent had access to hot water.
Frustration and anger mounted among township residents over the decline in their living standards as well as the state’s tight grip on their everyday lives. But the repression of the 1960s continued to hold the lid down on the boiling pot and the absence of organisations stymied the emergence of a concerted political response to the growing list of grievances. When the government decided to impose Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in schools, it inadvertently provided a central focus around which opposition to Bantu Education and the whole system of apartheid could coalesce.
The state’s language policy, particularly the use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in African schools, was an important pillar in the edifice of Bantu Education. Implemented in the early 1950s, Bantu Education was designed to keep African people permanently subjected at the lower levels of society. H.F. Verwoerd, the socalled architect of apartheid, explained the underlying objective of the system as follows: ‘There is no place for him [the Bantu] in the European community above the level of certain forms of labour.’ Bantu Education was therefore central to the maintenance of a racially segregated system and part of the state’s broader strategy to bring Africans under control. ‘The education system’, Jonathan Hyslop has argued, ‘was harnessed to the implementation of apartheid policy. In pursuit of the Nationalist government’s aim of uprooting the urban African working class, the development of secondary, technical and higher education for Africans in the urban areas was strangled, so as to drive young people to seek their educational future in the Bantustans.’
Besides being significantly inferior to the education provided for the white population, the problems attending Bantu Education were aggravated in Soweto in the 1960s when the state stopped building more schools. At the same time, between 1955 and 1969 the number of African pupils increased from about 1 million to 2.5 million, causing overcrowding to become endemic. The average pupil–teacher ratio grew to 58:1 in 1967 from an already high 46:1 at the time the system was introduced. The quality of education was also severely undermined by the large numbers of unqualified and underqualified teachers: between 1965 and 1976 the percentage of teachers in African secondary and high schools with university degrees hovered between 1.4% and 2.5%. Not surprisingly, the students suffered as a result; this was reflected in the decline of the matric pass rate from 54 to 33 per cent between 1948 and 1968. Despite these appalling conditions in township schools, Bantu Education did not face significant student challenges during the 1960s.
From the early 1970s, however, important changes began to be introduced in African schooling that would have far-reaching consequences. At the time the government was under increasing pressure from industrialists to respond to the dire lack of skilled African workers. Eventually the government decided to make central funds available for the construction of schools in urban townships, which opened the way for a massive expansion of African schooling. High school enrolment as a percentage of total enrolment among African students increased modestly from 3.5 to 4.5 per cent between 1955 and 1970. From 1965 to 1970 the number of African students in secondary schools registered reasonably steep increases, from 66,906 to 122,489. Over the next five years, that figure jumped to 318,568.
Despite 40 new schools being built in Soweto in the early 1970s, the rapid growth in student numbers aggravated overcrowding. But in response to the deepening economic crisis of the early 1970s, the state again drastically reduced its spending on African education. The problem was compounded by amendments to the structure of African schooling. The eight-year primary and five-year secondary model was abandoned in favour of an even split of six years of primary and six years of secondary. The new system was introduced at the beginning of 1976, which meant that all those who had passed Std 5 and Std 6 in 1975 would leave primary school, resulting in a massive bulge in the first year of secondary school.
Students: new force of change
A crucial consequence of these rapid changes in schooling in the early 1970s was the creation of a large population of African students. In 1976, there were 3.7 million young Africans in schools, of whom 389,000 were in secondary institutions. Across the country students faced similar experiences of overcrowding, poor teaching, and dismal prospects. The common awareness of the problems with Bantu Education was felt most profoundly in the urban townships, which had a high concentration of schools. In Soweto alone, the number of students nearly doubled from 90,000 at the end of the 1960s to 170,000 in 1976. In the brief period between 1972 and 1974, the number of secondary school students increased from 12,656 to 34,656. African students now constituted a significant social force, whose size was unparalleled in the country’s history. Ironically, Bantu Education had created its own gravediggers.
Inspired by Black Consciousness, students in Soweto began to turn to resistance politics well before June 1976. Initially their efforts were fragmented, small-scale and often ephemeral. Slowly but ineluctably a new cadre of young activists took shape. Groups of classmates, clusters of street friends, team mates in soccer clubs, members of debating societies or of cultural and religious groups began to engage in rudimentary resistance politics. This mainly took the form of reading radical literature, discussions and debates. Over time some of these groups became overtly political, while increasing contact (especially at schools) helped create informal networks of activists.
It was out of this process that the leadership of the Soweto uprising emerged. Students independently organised and led the struggles in each of the three major phases of the Soweto rebellion of 1976–7. In the first half of 1976 schools directly affected by the introduction of Afrikaans, mainly the junior secondary schools, mounted local demonstrations without support from existing student political organisations. The second phase, the uprising of June, was led by an Action Committee, comprising mostly political activists from SASM, who tended to be high school students. During the final phase, which commenced in August, the Soweto Students’ Representative Council led the mobilisation of students and the broader township community. In this movement, adults and established political organisations, both internal and external, were largely peripheral actors.
Narratives and claims of ownership
For many years after the eruption in 1976, two major narratives existed about the student uprising. At the time the apartheid government attempted to portray the students as a uniform mass of unruly and undisciplined militants. In its view, the students’ reaction to the new language policy was uninformed and irrational. The Cillie Commission of Inquiry, established by the government to investigate the ‘disturbances’ of 1976, unsurprisingly came to similar conclusions. It absolved the state, especially the police, of responsibility for the violence and accused students of instigating attacks on the police, whites and government property without good cause. Few people outside the laager of apartheid’s supporters gave any credence to this official narrative.
A second narrative, produced by the ANC, has attempted to claim ownership of the student uprising. Soon after the uprising, a leading ANC member, Alfred Nzo, averred: ‘some of these youths are long standing members of our Organisation who, consistent with revolutionary commitment of all members of our movement to the cause of our people, have actively participated from the beginning of the uprising, giving whatever leadership was possible under the exceptionally difficult circumstances.’ Especially since 1994, the ANC has actively produced a narrative promoting its leading position in the liberation struggle. In doing so, it has appropriated key events in that struggle for its own history. The Sharpeville massacre, the Soweto student rebellion and countless factory and township uprisings have been inserted as signposts on the ANC’s supposedly inevitable march to becoming the government of liberation. Constructing this dominant narrative of liberation history has involved the marginalisation of other actors, including other national liberation movements (for example, the Pan Africanist Congress and the Black Consciousness Movement), many local organisations and independent trade unions. Most importantly, as Gary Baines has argued in relation to the Soweto uprising, the agency of students has been airbrushed out in order to conform to an ANC-centric liberation history. In her perceptive study of the student rebellion, Pohlandt-McCormick argues that despite the fundamental incompatibility between the discourses of the apartheid government and of the ANC, both ‘tended to disregard or silence participants’ voices and deemphasise their conscious will, agency and reason’.
Perhaps the most frank reflection of the ANC’s capacity at the time was offered by its president in exile, O.R. Tambo. On the tenth anniversary of the rebellion, Tambo wrote: ‘Organisationally, in political and military terms, we were too weak to take advantage of the situation that crystallised from the first events of 16 June 1976. We had very few active ANC units inside the country. We had no military presence so to speak of. The communication links between ourselves outside the country and the masses of our people were still too slow and weak to meet the situation such as was posed by the Soweto uprising.’ Although the ANC was the main beneficiary of the movement of large numbers of black youth into exile, it did not play a significant role in the uprising itself.
Oral history and counter-narratives
In the aftermath of the uprising, scholars from diverse intellectual and ideological backgrounds sought to analyse the causes, character and consequences of the student movement. Baruch Hirson’s Year of Fire, Year of Ash. The Soweto Revolt: Roots of a Revolution? was a seminal radical analysis, while John Kane-Berman’s Soweto: Black Revolt – White Reaction became the standard liberal text on the historic events. In the pages of the journal Review of African Political Economy, the veteran intellectuals Ruth First and Archie Mafeje crossed swords with their different interpretation of the character of the youth uprising and its relationship to the broader class and national struggle. Largely missing from these analyses were the voices of the principal participants, the students.
From the mid-1990s there developed a new generation of studies that sought to place the voices, experiences and interpretations of students at the centre of new narratives. Among the most influential of these texts are Sifiso Ndlovu’s The Soweto Uprising: Counter-Memories of June 1976; Helena Pohlandt-McCormick’s doctoral thesis, ‘“I Saw a Nightmare …” Doing Violence to Memory: The Soweto Uprising, June 16, 1976’; Sibongile Mkhabela’s Open Earth and Black Roses: Remembering 16 June 1976; Philip Bonner and Lauren Segal’s Soweto: A History; the contributions in Ali Hlongwane’s edited collection, Footprints of the ‘Class of 76’: Commemoration, Memory, Mapping and Heritage; and Soweto 16 June 1976: Personal Accounts of the Uprising, compiled by Elsabe Brink, Steve Lebelo, Sue Krige and Dumisane Ntshangase. A salient feature of this diverse body of work is the reliance on oral testimonies from participants â€“ both leaders and rank-and-file members of the student movement. Ndlovu and Mkhabela were participants themselves, and Mkhabela the most senior female student leader. Participantsâ€™ voices and views have of course always been present and available, but were mostly omitted in published texts. Collectively, the works I have listed have produced multiple narratives, new insights and critical interpretations of the June uprising. In the process they have also generated counter-narratives to the versions produced by those in power. This pocketbook relies heavily on the oral testimonies and varied interpretations published in these texts.
Foregrounding the multiple voices of students has contributed to the development of new interpretations, which not only demonstrate the autonomy of students and their organisations, but also highlight their courage and political innovation. The student movement was diverse and complex. High school and junior school students were not initially united; divergent political views vied for supremacy; and student organisations were generally weak. Nonetheless, the movement achieved a remarkable degree of unity. Male and female students marched and died together. Although the leadership of the movement was dominated by young men, their female counterparts were active throughout, in meetings, on the streets and in detention. Students had to navigate all manner of political difficulties and their inexperience inevitably resulted in wrong turns and poor judgements. However, at the same time they demonstrated great political acuity in the face of state repression and scepticism from adults. By drawing on the rich archive of oral histories of the Soweto uprising, this book provides an interpretation of those historic events that places the myriad experiences of students at the centre and explains how they not only inaugurated a township revolution but also reconfigured black resistance politics in South Africa.
* * * * *
The new series of Jacana Pocket Guides is meant for those who are looking for a brief but lively introduction to a wide range of topics of South African history, politics and biography, written by some of the leading experts in their fields.
» read article