By Herbert Beukes
Parliament
Pik
Botha was seldom criticised for matters related to foreign affairs, but
although popular among the voters and even among segments of the
disenfranchised, he often gave the impression of not belonging in the Party
structures. Unlike some of his colleagues of the time, he could never relish
intra-Party squabbles across the aisle. To the observer in the gallery he
appeared ill-at-ease and uncomfortable in that role. The same could not be said
of Pik’s performance as a public speaker in parliament. Addressing the House on
a foreign policy matter, he was eloquent and skilled in delivery, particularly
when he was dealing with his budget vote.
In
defending his government against local critics and hoping to gain a receptive
ear, Pik Botha was fond of cataloguing his own exertions - his long and late
hours at work and frequent absences from home and family, being in the firing
line of the UN for his country’s sake, taking on the moribund Organisation of
African Unity in forceful reprimands, etc – and casting them as efforts
to fend off foreign hostility toward the South African nation and the country’s
interests. Whatever the intent, the outcome was mostly effective and because he
had always enjoyed a good relationship with the press, the public was kept
aware of these doings.
But,
alas, the Hansard editor! Pik was his annoyer-in-chief, a serial “infringer” of
Hansard protocol. Hansard was the official record of all verbal proceedings in
parliament. The way things worked was that the Hansard office would let the
speaker in a debate have a draft copy of the text within 48 hours of delivery,
as a courtesy for technical clean up, i.e. dotting i’s and crossing t’s. Unlike
newspaper copy, substantive changes to Hansard texts were not allowed lest the
meaning was changed, which would defeat the purpose of accurate record keeping.
Pik’s edited drafts were returned to the Hansard office as pieces worthy of poetry.
As accomplices in the editing, we viewed the sparring with the Hansard office
good naturally.
His
Party’s whips had their hands full in getting Pik Botha to grace the debating
chambers with his presence more regularly. He was spoiled with a cabinet portfolio
that provided good reasons for staying above the fray of Party politics and
attending to his primary functions of managing the country’s foreign relations.
Dealing with the affairs of State vis-à-vis foreign governments yielded
benefits of a different nature to the government than humdrum Party politics.
Ironically, parliament was also the arena where Pik was at his most vulnerable
because of the rigid system of seniority, hierarchy, its unending caucusing and
political and professional jealousies.
He experienced several low blows in the House but nothing as painful as when he
was forced by president PW Botha to apologise in a packed chamber, in the full
glare of the media, for a spontaneous and prescient statement that he would be
prepared to serve in a future government under a black president.
It was
customary for ministers to submit contributions for the president’s (formerly
the prime minister’s) annual statement at the opening of parliament. Between
assignments at the embassy in Washington during the late 70s and early 80s, I
caused some uncomfortable moments for Mr Botha with remarks that I prepared for
possible use by then prime minister PW Botha. One particular phrase had
unintended consequences when the leader of the Progressive Federal Party, Dr
Van Zyl Slabbert needled the prime minister because of its political ambiguity.
When
Pik got back from a “courtesy” session in parliament where he had listened to
the official Opposition’s opening salvo against the prime minister’s address,
he wanted to see me right away. PW Botha had used the phrase “participatory
democracy” as an idea for South Africa’s divided society and the PFP leader in
his rebuttal speech had put Mr Botha on the spot for his use and understanding
of the phrase. The sharp-witted Slabbert explained that he had done some
research on the phrase in context and found one of the earliest references
traceable to the Communist Party in France! This was a full-blooded quandary
and unforeseen. PW wanted to know from Pik how best to explain the dilemma.
Pik
Botha made for his office and summoned me. “ Kyk nou in watter gemors het jy die eerste minister laat beland!”
(See what a mess you have landed the prime minister in!) “By the way, what
exactly did you have in mind with ‘participatory democracy’?” I did the best I
could and even went back to my notes. Eventually it was not really a big
problem for the prime minister, although the moment understandably annoyed Pik.
It was
a continuing challenge to Pik’s conscience – of which he was often
reminded in and around his office – to respect Party loyalty and at the
same time not to compromise the belief in the principle of fairness which had
inspired so many of us when he took office. It was not always easy and
sometimes his complicity in failure was disappointing. I recall one such
incident with sadness for its ungenerous spirit.
The
topic was what was then commonly referred to as “the South West Africa case”
and it cropped up as part of the annual
department of foreign affairs budget vote. The debate soon lost its structure
and became something of a political brawl, but it was the means of combat that
was unfortunate. The two main combatants were Pik and Colin Eglin, the
principal spokesman on foreign affairs for the opposition Progressive Federal
Party. The contentious point related to criticism of the South African
government and its foreign minister by then US ambassador at the United
Nations, Don McHenry. In the debate Mr Eglin recounted this criticism. Now
there was nothing wrong with Mr Eglin bringing this to parliament’s attention
but the emphasis soon shifted to impugnment that lost touch with the logic of
the debate.
Relying
on his superior information resources – office staff at the UN – Pik
Botha was able to disclose to the House, with just a touch of hauteur, that
Colin Eglin had elicited the criticism from McHenry in a telephone call to the
ambassador, in order to use it against the government. Pik Botha was now more
interested in emphasising how Mr Eglin had acquired the criticism than what
McHenry had or had not said. The message was clear: a foreign government
official had been employed as an accomplice against his own government. Mr
Eglin’s motives and loyalties stood implicated as Pik Botha delivered to the
Party. He was clinical. He had the whip hand. Colin Eglin had been delivered for the fall.
But in the context of the minister’s signature
appeals for change and fairness, it was not a proud moment. This was not the same foreign minister who had chosen to save the black
man from extradition to the Matanzimas nor the Pik Botha who acknowledged the wrong in the justice system’s
conviction of John Matisson for speaking the truth in the To the Point scandal nor the man who would later stand up for
Beyers Naudé in a prejudiced political climate.
The best way of convincing men of
error is not so much to denounce the error as to proclaim the truth more
clearly. Anon
No comments:
Post a Comment