Slabbert: Man on a mission
Albert Grundlingh
Jonathan Ball Publishers: Johannesburg, Cape Town, London; 2021
ISBN: 9781776190379
Reviewed by Paul Murray
The established South African historian Albert Grundlingh explains his decision to pen the biography on Frederik van Zyl Slabbert (1940–2010). Primarily a “social historian”, Grundlingh nevertheless decided to take up the challenge as a biographer and write about Slabbert. As he was working on an article on him, so he gradually became intrigued by his subject, leading to this cradle-to-grave biography. The book explores Slabbert’s life in each of his designations – as an academic, as a politician, as a social activist and finally as a person engaged in business and entrepreneurship. He also gives an account of Slabbert’s youth and his family life at the start and end of the book, respectively, and examines the issue of Afrikaner identity in Slabbert (222–230). Albert Grundlingh’s biography on an incredibly significant person in white South African politics in the seventies and eighties, and on his life and legacy generally, will provide the reader with much thought on a chapter in South Africa’s complex and traumatic past.
The book is 303 pages long, and contains a short preface; nine chapters of on average of between 20 and 30 pages each; a conclusion of nine pages; footnotes (endnotes, in this case), which on average number approximately 100 per chapter; eight pages of relevant photographs, including of Slabbert’s 1974 election victory and images relating to the Dakar visit; and an index of seven pages. The content references significant archival material; over 30 interviews; secondary sources; journal articles; Slabbert’s autobiography, entitled The last white parliament (Johannesburg: Jonathan Ball Publishers, 1985); as well as Slabbert’s PhD thesis, entitled “Structural-functional analysis in theoretical sociology: A methodological enquiry” (Stellenbosch University, 1967). Out of the 11 and a half pages that make up the sources, three and a half of these have primary source references, which is tantamount to a third of the entire bibliography, showing that this historian is being true to his subject and to the profession. Hard and painstaking research such as this enables the subject of such a work to be seen very differently and perhaps more truly, than if the preponderance of sources were secondary, which is sometimes the case with biographers churning out books on people for commercialised reasons and who do not delve sufficiently deeply into the sources to bring the person’s life to life. In this way, the biographer has performed the task honourably!
The book starts with Slabbert’s youth, which for him and his twin sister, Marcia, was unsettled. The text then moves to the halls and corridors of the different universities at which Slabbert studied and taught: after getting his PhD from Stellenbosch University in 1967, he taught there, followed by Rhodes University, Cape Town University and the University of the Witwatersrand, all within a period of seven years. Next are the accounts of Slabbert the politician, from when he entered parliament in 1974 as the Progressive’s member for Rondebosch, until 12 years later when he left, to the dismay of many of his supporters. During this period, the Progressives showed rapid growth in the national and provincial elections of 1974, 1977 and 1981, with Slabbert at the helm of the Progressive Federal Party in 1979. Chapter five, aptly entitled “Turbulent times”, describes the “political convulsions” of the 1980s, with Slabbert “buffeted from all sides”. Grundlingh explains the complexities of the South African political landscape at this time, not least the diminishing role that the parliamentary opposition would play in the face of the growth of conservative white politics (and Slabbert’s difficult role in it). This necessitated Slabbert to look beyond parliament if he wanted to continue campaigning for a more inclusive constitutional dispensation for the country (1986).
Slabbert then briefly returned to academic work, followed by his “Dakar initiative”, a conference between the African National Congress (ANC) and prominent Afrikaners, held in July 1987 in Senegal’s capital city, Dakar (166 onwards). This was to be an event at a high level, the idea of which had emanated from the president of France, François Mitterrand, and his wife, Danielle. Involved in these deliberations was Slabbert’s close friend, the activist Breyten Breytenbach, who thought that the initiative could function as a trigger for South Africans to think differently about the situation in the country, and provide some “good hard debate” between Afrikaners and the ANC to clear the air and iron out any differences between them. When President FW de Klerk announced the country’s new dawn in 1989, which was to lead to its first full democracy in 1994, Slabbert is described as having played a significant role, not least through the close contacts he had with the ANC. Grundlingh assesses the “Legacy” of Dakar on pages 177 forward, saying among other things that “Slabbert’s name is indissolubly linked with the Dakar venture. It formed a high point in his career, even though he did not foresee its outcome” (181).
This “Dakar” period is followed by chapter eight, entitled “Transitions”, where Slabbert’s position as a white Afrikaner male was seen from some quarters to be problematic in negotiations and the nature of the work that was needed (195). One of these areas was the Electoral Task Team, which had to investigate an alternative electoral system for South Africa during the 2000s, the process of which eventually led to his disillusionment (198 onwards, particularly 205). This work brought Slabbert into closer contact with the ANC, and the section entitled “Slabbert and the ANC in post-apartheid South Africa” shows him to become even more disillusioned as he found the Africanist ideology and Mbeki to be exclusivist. There follows an account of Slabbert’s business ventures, of which several included philanthropic enterprises in collaboration with, among others, Breytenbach (206 onwards). The biography ends with chapter nine, with an account of “Van” – his public image versus his private life, and a discussion of the issue of his Afrikaner identity (222 onwards). Nine pages of concluding ideas (244 onwards) strengthen some of the propositions of the book, with ample scope for readers to make their own decisions. Most significantly, however, it should be argued that Grundlingh explores several initiatives undertaken by Slabbert as a way of hoping “to get democracy to work for all South Africans”.i This means that the biographer fully understands the judgement that his subject requires for the complex role that he would need to play in society, as that of an activist seeking to change civil society for the better. Not being a progressive gradualist, Slabbert wasted no time acting on what he thought to be necessary to achieve the outcome he wanted, which brought with it its own challenges – hence a man on a mission!
Because Grundlingh is essentially a social historian, it does not mean that he is not suitably qualified to write a biography. This point is underscored by Joanny Moulin, who says, “Historians, including social historians, literary scholars, journalists, novelists and medical doctors have written biographies of both great and everyday men and women.”ii Furthermore, it can be argued that in writing up this biography, Grundlingh answers the call from another established South African historian, FA Mouton, to make a study of persons who served in parliamentary politics between 1910 and 1990, to see how it “can throw light on political events and help to explain why the white minority, after decades of acquiescing in the abuse of South Africa’s limited democratic tradition, decided to peacefully surrender its political power”.iii It can be further argued that when, as Mouton states, “for decades it [the apartheid government] passed discriminatory and oppressive legislation designed to control the voiceless black majority”iv,Slabbert worked towards achieving precisely the opposite!
When South African historian Professor Ciraj Rassool of the University of the Western Cape explains how political biography (for which the Slabbert biography qualifies) “open[s] up analytical spaces in the academy and institutions of public history, for furthering biographic representation beyond modernism”,v Grundlingh in the biography “breach[es] the divide between the public and the private, the political and the personal, and [reflects] on the individual in a more complex way.”vi For example, how does one examine the role of someone such as Slabbert in one of the most complex eras in South Africa’s past, the period of the eighties, when he was in parliament? Slabbert is not then viewed as a product of a biography, but rather as a participating agent in relationships (at university, where he worked; in parliament; in the later 1980s, once he had left parliament; and in his work in the corporate world). The biographer brings us closer to the person this way, with close-ups of his relationships with his family, friends, colleagues and adversaries, in his work and at home, giving an account of him, “warts and all” (itinerant, making quick decisions, exiting parliament).
Slabbert’s fractious, itinerant and restless youth – covered in the first chapter of the book – might well have been a determining factor for the several changes that he made in his career, although this point can only be speculative. Some might argue that this led to him not being grounded enough as a person, and that he did not have enough grit (for instance, changing his teaching positions so quickly and leaving parliament, among the other changes he made in his career). To understand this kind of action and behaviour, the words of John Keats (1795–1821), the English apothecary and surgeon-cum-poet, are quoted:
Environment in relation to its influence on the mind is not only interesting from a purely psychological point of view: it is equally instructive to the literary student who wishes to know the forces which molded the thought, the impressions which stamped themselves indelibly on the memory of the master, and the associations which modified or broadened his views or cramped and stultified his methods of expression.vii
With the main areas in Grundlingh’s biography having been explained thus far, some further thoughts about Slabbert might be shared. I would like to look at Slabbert as a person of substance. Three main areas for this stand out. Firstly, one might turn to his glowing and stellar academic career, for which the basis is his PhD thesis on structural functionalism. The examiner commenting on it, noted that Slabbert had rigorously argued the material and that he had risen above it and developed his own perspectives. His work in the field enabled him to see past grand theories and, perhaps most of all, apply his theories to the situation in South Africa – “a solid family life, a growing economy, a fair legal system and the maintenance of social order by the state” (42–43). Grundlingh comments that while these ideas may appear as self-evident, such views were radical for that time (the 1980s). It can further be argued that Slabbert’s academic studies made up the theory against which he could work out practical measures. It is as if he was the helmsman of a vessel with a very sturdy keel, and up there somewhere in the universe was a guiding star, his thesis for his PhD. He stuck to the ideas he had formulated in the thesis and measured all action (his ideals) against its principles. If the situation he found himself would not lead to the change in society he wanted to see, then he would make the necessary move(s). For this, he certainly covered a great deal of ground in his career – as an academic, politician, social activist and entrepreneur/philanthropist: a man on the move with a mission.
Grundlingh describes how Slabbert soon realised that parliament was a boring institution and that he looked to change “the grammar” of it by making it talk about “things like the possibility of a new constitution” (he was not the first to do so – many Afrikaners before him had already done this). This brings one to the second situation which shows Frederik van Zyl Slabbert as a person of substance. When he entered parliament in 1974 as the MP for the Progressive Party for Rondebosch, he was looked to as being a kind of saviour of the Afrikaner’s political destiny (against the evil system of apartheid). After 12 years, however, he found that the institution of parliament could no longer serve as the place to execute political and constitutional change as he had thought it would be able to. An example is the Tricameral Parliament with its limited “democratic” ideals, which he saw as perpetuating the system by not admitting all races. As the leader of the Progressives between 1979 and 1986, he came to see it as pointless continuing opposing the ruling party (National Party), leading him to believe that he would need to achieve his goals and ideals for a constitutionally equal country by means of an extra-parliamentary situation. His actions were vindicated the year after his departure from parliament, in May 1987, when the country’s general elections saw the National Party returned to power with a firm majority, with a reduced number of seats for the Progressives (they lost seven seats) and a resounding victory for the Conservative Party. The Conservative Party had gained ground in reaction to the government’s new constitutional policies, and the Progressives suffered because of their liberalisation policies. Furthermore, the Conservatives were the new opposition, having to contest the Nationalists on their policy of “reform” based on “security”. They identified the ANC (the very organisation that Slabbert had hoped would be the vehicle to facilitate constitutional change) as the major threat to stability in South Africa. It was the time following hot on the heels of the state of emergency imposed in June 1986 and again in June 1987.viii The chapter “Turbulent times” (104) explains Slabbert caught up in the situation and in the crossfire of white and black politics.
Slabbert’s departure from parliament is still within the second point; as a person of substance, he ventured “Into a brave new world” (chapter 7). Here he had to be vigilant of what Grundlingh describes on page 156, namely that (in South Africa) “majoritarianism could turn democracy into a liberal veneer for racial domination”. According to Grundlingh, Slabbert “seems to have thought that a strong constitution and entrenched human rights would be a sufficient antidote to the abuse of power”. This point ties in with the fact that at this time (October 1986) he founded the Institute for Democracy in South Africa (Idasa). Its main purpose was to create an environment for white South Africans to hold talks with the banned liberation movement that was still in exile, the ANC. After South Africa became a full democracy in 1994, Idasa worked towards establishing democratic institutions, political transparency and good governance. (The global financial crisis of 2008, however, took its toll on the institute, forcing it to close its doors in 2013.) Slabbert’s actions once he had left parliament continued to be those of a person of substance working towards a more democratic country in this institute and in other ventures subsequently.
The third situation from which it is argued that Slabbert was a person of substance, was when he initiated the Dakar Initiative/Dialogue/Conference (already discussed) held in the city of Dakar in Senegal between 9 July and 12 July 1987. For this, he was termed by some as a “new Voortrekker”, underscoring his Afrikaner identity. Some might view this venture as not all that significant (perhaps they wanted to see more tangible results), but it would still be hard to argue away its milestone status because of the position the country found itself in at that time, with little dialogue between black and white South Africans happening then. One of the aims was to engage Afrikaners, who were generally known to have closed ideas towards change. Among the items that featured on the agenda for the conference were change, national unity and the future of the South African economy. Idasa participated in the conference, but would nevertheless be condemned by the South African government for going off to meet an organisation that was still banned (the ANC). Back at home, Idasa held public lectures and workshops attended by people of all races. Slabbert regarded a democratic constitution as an essential political prerequisite for peace – which Idasa could educate people on – and part of this was that white South Africans should learn about the need for change (162). Especially politically aware Afrikaners could be informed of these alternative options. Grundlingh makes a thorough analysis of the dynamics of Idasa, concluding that it was an organisation ahead of its time, and for this one must recognise the efforts of Slabbert and his colleagues such as Alex Boraine, a South African cleric activist. The above are three areas where one might regard Slabbert as a man of substance, a social activist wanting to see constitutional change come to his country, which was fraught with inequality.
Not all Slabbert’s initiatives went according to plan, partially because of his position, partially because of circumstances. Chapter 8, entitled “Transitions”, starts uncovering his diminishing role in the political landscape, which came as something of a surprise to Slabbert. The question must be asked, why did this happen to someone who seemingly had such high stature in public circles? Here one needs to look at Slabbert’s relationship with the leading political figures – Nelson Mandela, FW de Klerk and Thabo Mbeki – in the 1990s. Apart from reading about these points and issues in the biography, one can find information on them elsewhere. One such place is in the Daily Maverick, for which associate editor Marianne Thamm interviewed Albert Grundlingh. There is also a write-up from 25 February 2021 by Rebecca Davis, entitled, “Frederik van Zyl Slabbert: A man of his time, still missed in ours”. Thamm, like Grundlingh, sees Slabbert as an intriguing figure, one who occupied an “insider/outsider” space even from a young age. Grundlingh further explains Slabbert as an “old soul” by the time he arrived at Stellenbosch University, making a “name for himself as a charismatic Afrikaner intellectual”. Perhaps he had had an early start growing up in his fractious home surroundings, having to actualise early on in his life. A considerable amount of time in the online seminar explains Slabbert’s failure to achieve his goals of constitutional inclusivism. Grundlingh and Thamm discuss the resignation from parliament saga, explaining the “furore” it caused. Further discussions centre on Slabbert’s failed space with Mbeki, saying that he would never have become a compliant ANC member. Slabbert’s misgivings about President Nelson Mandela were also discussed.
Alex Mouton of the History Department at Unisa has other views about Slabbert. In an article entitled, “‘Had it too easy?’ Frederik van Zyl Slabbert’s resignation as leader of the official parliamentary opposition”, Mouton addresses Slabbert’s resignation on 7 February 1986 as the leader of the Progressive Federal Party and the official parliamentary opposition. He argues that his resignation as “a principled, self-sacrificing political statement, an act of political courage to alert whites to the harsh reality that South Africa was on the verge of a race revolution, and that parliament had entrenched apartheid and could not be used to get rid of it” is a question and issue that is complex and ambiguous.ix Mouton refers to liberal South African political journalist Ken Owen, who did not react kindly to Slabbert’s departure from parliament, saying he was “self-indulgent and politically indefensible” and referring to it further as “a political betrayal of epic proportions”. Owen absolves parliament and apportions the blame to Slabbert for his later views – one able to deal with success but incapable of handling defeat, perhaps “because he had risen too far too fast in politics”. This introduces the question of Slabbert’s actual “constituency”. Where was it? Whom did it consist of? Mouton also addresses the potential role that Slabbert could have played with Mbeki and the ANC at the time – that it could have been a greater role than it ended up being while the two drifted apart.
With such an outstanding and analytical mind (seen from the various appointments he got at four South African universities – Stellenbosch, Rhodes, Cape Town and then Wits), someone such as Van Zyl Slabbert might be expected to have towered in the political world as well. His glowing career is documented by Grundlingh and Mouton, and added by them are the views of others, such as Professor Milton Shain of the University of Cape Town, who explains that Slabbert “developed an aversion to all closed philosophies, rejecting any form of social engineering, or final answers for political challenges. For him, apartheid and Marxism suffered from this hubris.”x Slabbert, writing in his autobiography, explains that he “loathed apartheid because it dehumanised those who suffered from its disadvantages and brutalised the humanity of those who enjoyed its privileges”.xi Against all of this, Mouton writes: “Slabbert’s “shining armour” had a number of chinks.” As we have said a few times now, one was his attitude to the status of parliament. According to Mouton, in January 1977 he contemptuously referred to the House of Assembly as “die goor ou pot” (the rancid old pot). Mouton further argues that “the smooth and rapid upward mobility of Slabbert’s academic and political career encouraged a lack of loyalty to state institutions and a low boredom threshold, because there was always something new and exciting awaiting him”. The question is, why then did he go to parliament in the first place, just a few months after his new appointment as a professor at Wits (1973)? He seemed to be frustrated with the administrative work there, as well as with several other issues, “scared to become a second-rate academic housekeeper for the rest of my life”. Furthermore, his meteoric rise in politics coincided (dovetailed) with the so-called golden era for the Progressives, which Mouton explains as “a period of unbroken electoral growth in parliamentary, provincial and municipal elections”.
However, at the time he was in parliament, Slabbert built the strongest possible political opposition. In addition, he worked assiduously for a more democratic South Africa, even while he was in business through philanthropic ventures (206). If biography is to tell both sides of a person’s life, the successes and the situations less successful, Grundlingh has hit the nail on the head. One can only wish that we ourselves, if the subject of biography, would be treated so fairly by someone choosing to write up our past lives – that is, if we were intriguing enough to a biographer for her/him to want to document our past.
Endnotes:
i Sunday Times, 16 November 1986.
ii Joanny Moulin, On biography: Critical essays (Ferney-Voltaire: Honoré Champion, 2021).
iii Alex Mouton, “‘The good, the bad and the ugly’: Professional historians and political biography of South African parliamentary politics, 1910–1990”, Journal for Contemporary History 36(1):59, 2011.
iv Ibid, 58.
v Ciraj Rassool, “Rethinking documentary history and South African political biography”, South African Review of Sociology 41(1), 2010.
vi Ibid.
vii C Louis Leipoldt, “John Keats, medical student”, Westminster Review (April 1907), in JC Kannemeyer, Leipoldt, ’n Lewensverhaal (Kaapstad: Tafelberg, 1999), unnumbered page preceding the table of contents (“Inhoudsopgawe”).
viii Carole Cooper, A survey of race relations in South Africa, 1987/88 (Johannesburg: South African Institute of Race Relations, 1988), XXXI–XL.
ix Alex Mouton, “‘Had it too easy?’ Frederik van Zyl Slabbert’s resignation as leader of the official parliamentary opposition”, Historia 60(2), November 2015, 7 February 1986.
x Ibid.
xi F van Zyl Slabbert, The last white parliament (Jonathan Ball Publishers, Johannesburg, 1985), 83.
Lees ook:
Slabbert: Man on a mission. A biography deur Albert Grundlingh: ’n resensie
Kommentaar
Ai ai ai. Disillusioned. Slabbert, Breytenbach, Max du Preez, Roelf Meyer, FW de Klerk en ’n kaboedel ander wit mans wat so kortsigtig en liggelowig was. Hulle het seker nou al agtergekom dat sommige groepe meer gelyk as ander is, nè? In die annale van die geskiedenis sal daardie hele groep se nalatenskap kortsigtige, politiek onvolwasse goedgelowigheid wees. Dis about dit.