Against all the odds, Dawie left a legacy
Dawie De Villiers passed away last week, aged 81, after a long fight with cancer and outside the world of South African rugby that might be a name the modern-day fan only vaguely remembers. South African scrum-half and skipper back in the day, turned politician, and I’m guessing that would be about it.
De Villiers, christened David Jacobus, in fact lead an extraordinary life, one of that generation of privileged white mainly Afrikaners rugby players who proudly wore the Springbok jersey while also being forced to confront the sheer awfulness of their country’s apartheid system. Decades down the line we can condemn and criticise, but these guys had to live with that in real time and make their own choices.
Many – most – ignored it because they knew no different and no better, a small minority spoke out but after retiring De Villiers chose to fight the abhorrence from within because that's the only way he could see change coming short of a full-scale Civil War. He didn’t disown his Afrikaans heritage or the ruling National Party, in which his father Coenie had risen to high office, but he worked within to make it and South Africa better
By the end of his considerable political career De Villiers had spent two years in President Mandela’s first cabinet and before that he was the man who legislated against segregation in South Africa’s bars and restaurants while De Villiers also sat on vital commission which concluded that the South African government must seek a negotiated settlement with the ANC that has hitherto been considered a terrorist organisation.
De Villiers the rugby player is often underrated. He was a smallish, slight, incredibly quick and tenacious scrum half. A bloody nuisance to play against – think Rob Howley or Dave Kirk perhaps – he was also very much a favourite son of another tenacious scrum half, Danie Craven, who ran South African rugby. They shared much - Stellenbosch University, doctorates in divinity, pastors in the Dutch Reformed church - and Craven supported his man all the way.
De Villiers ‘only’ won 25 caps in nine seasons with the Boks mainly because there were so few internationals in the 60s and a couple of untimely injuries. But 22 of those caps were as skipper and it was a tumultuous mainly successful roller-coaster ride. Generally speaking, he had the golden touch.
He was triumphant in two series against the Lions - 1962 and 1968 - while he led South Africa to a 2-1 series win over France in 1967 with one game drawn, a titanic clash that has been largely forgotten, possibly because apartheid was at its most abhorrent and the rugby world was looking away shame faced. A year later that French team marched to their first ever Grand slam but that didn’t stop De Villiers taking a Springboks team to France that autumn and beating Les Blues 2-0 on their own patch
There were home series wins over Australia in 1969 and a glorious 3-0 series win over the All Blacks in 1970, with one game drawn, after which he retired.
The two big setbacks to his career was when he made his debut as captain in 1965 and South Africa lost a close series 2-1 in New Zealand and of course the infamous tour to Britain and Ireland in the winter of 1969-70 when they were followed by antiapartheid protesters wherever they travelled. It was a distinctly unpleasant experience, although nowhere near as unpleasant as being a black living in their own nation back home.
Unsurprisingly, the Boks struggled losing Tests to Scotland and England and drawing against Wales and Ireland. De Villiers and manager Craven put up a united front on tour but it was a chastening, formulative, experience for both, particularly De Villiers the younger politically minded man who might one day be in a position to enact real change.
How to go about it? With his public profile as a popular winning Boks captain, the slayer of the All Blacks, and considerable academic qualifications a political career was there for the taking. Furthermore, armed with that background and his family connections he could be expected to rise high, and quickly, in the National Party which dictated the apartheid system. There was the prospect of proximity to power and the possibility to argue for change from within – or he could become an outspoken and admired liberal with virtually no power or influence.
So, he became a National party MP and then the South African ambassador to the UK between 1979 and 1980 – when the Lions tour was one of the burning topics of the day – and finally became an almost permanent member of the Cabinet in the 1980s.
He was treading a difficult line. De Villiers now became known as a bloody nuisance off the field, a rogue liberal voice within the National Party always arguing for reform of the apartheid laws and normalisation of society. His rugby kudos and the fact that he was eloquent and very good at his ministerial jobs made him difficult to shout down and gradually he bore some influence.
He was Minister of Trade and Industry for seven years and in charge of Energy and Mineral affairs for four. It was his liquor act which enabled blacks citizens to eat and drink at the same establishments as white South Africans, at the discretion of the landlord or restaurant owner.
His monopolies commission penalised white-run cabals and enabled small business in the townships and homelands to open up. Perhaps most importantly he was a liberal minded member of the National Party delegation in May 1990 at the CODESA talks with the ANC which came up with the Groote Schuur accord which committed both sides to coming up with a negotiated settlement, arguably the key moment in the modern history of South Africa. Or at least the catalyst
So, something of an unsung hero on and off the field although Mandela’s endorsement and his two-year spell in the new President’s first cabinet as Minister of the Environment and Tourism tells its own tale. All in all, that’s a pretty decent legacy batting against the odds in such difficult times. In the final reckoning, De Villiers was on the right side of history.