Colin Eglin: Opposition leader and key player in constitutional talks
1925-2013
COLIN Eglin, who has died at the age of 88, epitomised the best of South African politics.
The former leader of the Progressive Federal Party was that rare breed — a politician of honour and integrity who was not in politics for money, personal power or self-aggrandisement, but to make South Africa a better place for everyone.
He was part of a small group that broke away from the United Party in 1959 to form the Progressive Party, knowing full well that by doing so he was probably kissing goodbye a career in parliament that had begun when he became an MP in 1958.
Helen Suzman was the only one of that intrepid band who retained her seat (Houghton) after the 1961 elections. Eglin and the others were demolished, but never lost their principles or their faith. For the next 13 years he, more than anyone else, made it possible for Suzman to play the role she did as the Progressive Party’s lone voice in parliament and sharpest thorn in the apartheid government’s side.
Because hers was the more visible role, she scored most of the media attention. But it was Eglin who kept her going with his unwavering moral, intellectual and administrative support. They formed a formidable political partnership that laid the groundwork for what is today the Democratic Alliance.
In the context of white politics back then, theirs seemed an utterly hopeless cause. But in 1974, the Progs made an exhilarating breakthrough when they won seven seats. Eglin became the member of parliament for Sea Point.
Eglin formed alliances with breakaway factions from the dying United Party, and by the time the Information Scandal exploded the Progressive Federal Party, as it had become known, was the official opposition. As such, it was Eglin’s job to lead the no-confidence debate against PW Botha’s government — and it must be said that he fluffed it.
An intellectual heavyweight he may have been, brilliant organiser and negotiator, but in the seething cauldron that was the House during that debate in 1979 it became painfully clear that Eglin had neither the voice nor the presence to be the really effective leader the PFP needed.
He was treated brutally and with savage contempt, and his efforts to fight back were so ineffectual that it made his supporters in the public gallery squirm.
He took even more of a drub- bing shortly afterwards at the hands of foreign affairs minister Pik Botha, who delivered what must be one of the most scathing attacks any leader of the official opposition has ever suffered in the House, for supposedly passing on to the US ambassador at the United Nations, Don McHenry, details of a confidential briefing Botha had given him.
Botha basically called Eglin a traitor and ended his tirade by advising him to “crawl into a hole in the ground and stay there”.
This was clearly an attempt by the government to deflect attention away from the Info scandal, and Eglin’s defensive, almost apologetic, response played right into its hands and drew some criticism from his own ranks.
Not long after this humiliation, Eglin received a call saying he would be dealt with like the left-wing academic Rick Turner, who had recently been fatally shot when he opened his front door. Despite a police guard being posted at his Clifton apartment, shots were fired through his front door at head height late one night.
Coming together, these blows made him look like a bit of a victim and signalled the end of his leadership. Anglo American executive and PFP MP Gordon Waddell led a move to have him replaced by Frederick van Zyl Slabbert and a motion was passed that he should step down. Eglin saw it as a betrayal and was quite bitter about it, as was his wife Joyce, who, when Eglin invited Slabbert to supper, said she would not have him in her house.
Eglin put his resentment aside and agreed to step down. He became party chairman.
Seven years later, Slabbert resigned and Eglin agreed to resume the leadership, which he subsequently handed over to his friend, Zach de Beer.
Eglin played a key role in the negotiations that led to South Africa’s world-class constitution. His success was based on a willingness to allow the two big players, the ANC and the National Party government, to take the credit for much of his work. It was another example of Eglin’s readiness to put his own ego aside for the greater good.
Eglin was born on April 14 1925 in Cape Town and went to school in Villiersdorp. He went
Despite a police guard being posted at his Clifton apartment, shots were fired through his front door at head height late one night
to the University of Cape Town to study quantity surveying, but interrupted his studies when he turned 18 in 1943 to fight in World War 2. He was 19 when he took part in one of the last great battles of the war at Monte Sole in Italy.
After the war, he graduated and established a quantity surveying practice in Cape Town. He got involved in municipal politics in 1951 and became the United Party member of parliament for the Peninsula constituency in 1958.
Eglin was famously grumpy, but this hid a dry sense of humour and a deep sense of compassion.
He is survived by his second wife, Raili, and three daughters. His first wife, Joyce, died of cancer in 1997. — Chris Barron