A heroine in the belly of the beast

THIS account of Helen Suzman’s contribution to the struggle for racial justice in South Africa is unsparing in its praise. The author is Robin Renwick, appointed by Margaret Thatcher as ambassador to South Africa in 1987, just as the relationship between the ANC and the apartheid administration was beginning.

Renwick saw in Suzman a politician with a strong anti-apartheid track record but also a strong dislike for the “anti-liberal” ANC — views that chimed with those of his boss. It was by now unfashionable for Thatcher to continue her flirtation with PW Botha, whom she had infamously entertained at Chequers in 1984 — the first time a South African leader had been hosted by a prime minister since 1961.

This was the same PW Botha, then minister of defence, who had rounded on Suzman in the parliamentary chamber when Verwoerd was stabbed to death. He stood in front of her bench, with his finger poking: “It’s you, you and the liberalists — you are responsible for this. You are inciting them. You.”

Suzman responded: “Control yourself; stop being hysterical. What nonsense are you talking? What have I got to do with this? You must be mad.”

It is anecdotes such as these, as well as a summary of Suzman’s record as a fighter for detainees and political prisoners, that make Renwick’s book compelling reading. He lays to rest any argument that she did not contribute significantly to the anti-apartheid struggle while an MP in the white parliament.

For 13 years, Suzman was the lone voice on human rights in the debating chamber, surrounded by National Party MPs and the United Party, which she had left over its toadying attitude towards those in power.

The book gets its title from praise she received from ANC leader Chief Albert Luthuli. After expressing his “deep appreciation and admiration for your heroic and lone stand against a most reactionary parliament”, he said, “remember you are a bright star in a dark chamber, where lights of liberty of what is left, are going out one by one.”

Her courage was considerable. It was quite something for an MP to stand up before the apartheid hierarchy and quote Mandela to them. This is what she did when she warned that their outlawing of legal protest would lead to violent opposition.

When Rhodesia declared unilateral independence from Britain to extend white rule under Ian Smith, she condemned this in parliament, earning Verwoerd’s ire. He remarked that he had written her off. She replied: “And the whole world has written you off.”

Suzman’s parliamentary record — she asked 200 uncomfortable questions a year — is well documented, but the book falters in the fluid politics of the ’80s and ’90s, when negotiations over a new democratic constitution began.

To properly evaluate Suzman’s contribution, Renwick ought to have questioned why she did not join the growing extra-parliamentary movement at a time when the irrelevance of a white-dominated parliament was becoming apparent, even to the NP.

This and Renwick’s use of “non-white” as a description for black South Africans weakens the impact of the work. It’s a pity, because it is time that the bickering over the Suzman legacy ended in consensus that she belongs among the heroes of the anti-apartheid struggle. —