Mandela

by Anthony Sampson

  The prosecution’s star witness was publicly referred to only as “Mr. X,” but was in fact Bruno Mtolo, the shrewd saboteur who had been at Mandela’s meeting in Durban shortly before his arrest, and who had visited Rivonia. He had now turned state’s evidence. “I could not believe my eyes when I saw him take the witness stand,” wrote Mandela afterward.44 Mtolo, who had an excellent memory, was the first witness to directly connect Mandela with MK, by giving his account of what Mandela had told the saboteurs at their meeting in Durban: how African leaders had promised him military training and funds, how the campaign in South Africa would extend to guerrilla warfare and how communists should conceal their true beliefs because they were unpopular in Africa. Mtolo insisted that the ANC was completely dominated by communists.45

  It was devastating testimony. “Once my notes were handed in I realised that the state would be able to secure a conviction against me,” Mandela wrote in jail. “The evidence of Mtolo made this a certainty.”46 Mandela would not deny his leadership of MK, nor his talk with the saboteurs in Durban: he would only deny that the communists had concealed their beliefs. The defense lawyers warned him that his admissions could cost him his life, but Mandela told them that he must accept responsibility for his leadership; and he wanted the truth to come out. He had, he said, to “explain to the country and the world where Umkhonto we Sizwe stood, and why; to clarify its aims and policy, to reveal the true facts from the half-truths and distortions of the state case. If in doing this his life should be at stake, so be it.” He was now clearly determined to represent the struggle in his own person.

  It was a tough position for his lawyers to defend. When Berrangé cross-examined Mtolo he was able to knock some holes in his evidence—for example pointing out that in Durban Mandela had said that communists who went abroad for MK should not try to advance the Party’s cause or make communist propaganda, which would discredit MK. But the judge still seemed impressed by Mtolo, and in the meantime, as Joel Joffe commented: “Our chief accused, Nelson Mandela, had admitted the main burden of the charge.”

  The discussions between the accused and their lawyers were crucial, but were constrained by the conditions. The prison commander had built a special room, where the accused were lined up in front of a grating, facing their lawyers, seated on high stools like customers at a milk bar: when the lawyers first arrived, Mandela stood up smiling, and said: “What will it be today, gentlemen? Chocolate or ice-cream soda?”47 The lawyers got to know the accused intimately, and to feel the full strength of Mandela’s personality. George Bizos was amazed at how he refused to be intimidated by the warders: one day he complained to the commanding officer about the rickety desk on which he had to write notes for his lawyers. Aucamp let fly: “You’re no longer an attorney, you’re a prisoner! … You can’t give orders.” Mandela coolly replied, “Have you finished, Colonel? Then I will return to my work with the lawyers.” The next day, a marvelous table arrived.48

  Joel Joffe reckoned that Mandela and Sisulu were the most at risk, with a fifty-fifty chance of hanging. But he found that Mandela’s courage never wavered: “It was quite different from courage in the field of battle, when you can be brave without thinking.” In Joffe’s opinion, “Nelson Mandela emerged quite naturally as the leader. He has, in my view, all the attributes of a leader—the engaging personality, the ability, the stature, the calm, the diplomacy, the tact and the conviction. When I first met him, I found him attractive and interesting. By the time the case finished I regarded him as a really great man. I began to notice how his personality and stature impressed itself not just on the group of the accused, but on the prison and the prison staff themselves.”

  The principal accused had already admitted their involvement in sabotage and the planning of MK, and were determined to make a political justification for it. But the most serious charge—which the prosecutor, Percy Yutar, called “the cornerstone of the state case”—was that they had approved Operation Mayibuye, which called for a nationwide guerrilla war assisted by foreign troops and arms. Mandela and Sisulu explained to the defense lawyers that the ANC had not yet approved the plan at the time of the police raid on Rivonia, though it might have become necessary if all other means failed. But Govan Mbeki, the oldest and most dogmatic of the accused, insisted that Operation Mayibuye provided the basis of all MK activities, and had been approved by the ANC as well as MK. His insistence could have sent him and his friends to the gallows. “If it was proved that they had embarked on an armed revolution,” said Joffe afterward, “it would have been difficult under the Sabotage Act for the judge not to sentence them to death.”

  But Mandela was now preoccupied with his political argument. He was determined, as in his previous trial, to make a final speech about his political ideals, which he could do only through a statement from the dock. This could not be cross-examined, and would therefore carry less weight with the judge. But he did not want to appear under cross-examination to be going back on his basic convictions—like the movie mogul Sam Goldwyn (he suggested) saying, “These are my principles, gentlemen; but if you don’t like them, I’ve got others.”49 Mandela spent many evenings in his cell working on the speech with the help of his colleagues, lawyers and others. He was influenced by earlier great revolutionary speeches, such as Castro’s “History will absolve me,” and particularly wanted to make a powerful impact overseas.50 He produced an eloquent statement in his own hand which clearly explained his political development. But the lawyers were worried by its defiant candor, which might provoke the judge to hang Mandela—particularly as it ended with the words: “it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”* Mandela refused to leave them out, but eventually agreed to insert the words: “if needs be.”52

  The defense case began with Mandela’s long speech from the dock, which could not be interrupted, to the dismay of Yutar, who had been preparing for days to cross-examine him. For four hours Mandela explained his beliefs and political ideas, retracing his tribal background and early nationalism, and his conversion to multiracialism. He admitted that he was the leader of MK and had planned sabotage; but he insisted again that nonviolence had proved powerless to prevent the country from drifting into civil war. Sabotage, he claimed, offered the best hope for future race relations.

  He compared his cooperation with communists to Churchill’s cooperation with Stalin; but he also gave a more personal explanation, recalling how communists were the only political group who were prepared to treat Africans as human beings and equals. He admitted he had been influenced by Marxist thought, but denied that he was a communist, and praised the British and American parliamentary systems, which the communists regarded as reactionary. He stressed the Africans’ lack of human dignity and rights, and the destruction of black family life, which was breaking down moral standards and fomenting violence: “Africans want a just share in the whole of South Africa; they want security and a stake in society.” The ANC, he said, was engaged in “a struggle for the right to live.”

  He finished with his own apologia: “During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony with equal opportunities.” He paused and looked at the judge: “It is an ideal which I hope to live for and achieve.” Then, dropping his voice, he concluded: “But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”53 There was thirty seconds’ silence, which seemed to Mandela like many minutes. To Joel Joffe it seemed like the silence after a play, before thunderous applause—but without the applause.54

  The speech was the most effective of Mandela’s whole political career. It identified him clearly as the leader not just of the ANC, but of the multiracial opposition to apartheid. The anticolonial clichés of his earlier speeches had given way to a much more thoughtful and personal analysis. His words reverberated around the world, providing a mani
festo for antiapartheid campaigners everywhere. Some Western diplomats even began to change their view of Mandela as being dominated by communists. “The reasons he sets out for collaboration with the communists are very difficult to answer,” commented John Wilson in the Foreign Office, while John Ure of the Information Research Department (used by MI6 to provide anticommunist propaganda) felt that Britain was losing ground with black South Africans as a price of its cautious policies: Mandela, he said, was “going to be a popular figure over the whole continent whether we like it or not,” and the secret service (“our friends”) should take note of his admissions about collaborating with communists. Britain could make some propaganda from the message that “Mandela and Co do not really like communism so they should be wary of playing along with it.”55

  The accused had been buoyed up by the growing support from abroad, not only from many African countries but also, more to Mandela’s surprise, from Britain. Halfway through the trial he had been elected President of the Students’ Union of London University, “an institution he had never attended,” Joffe said, “by people he did not know.”56 The British government was now being pressed to intervene to prevent Mandela from being hanged. David Astor of the Observer wrote to the Foreign Secretary, R. A. Butler, to say that Mandela was “one of the most impressive of all the African leaders.”57 Butler was sympathetic, but worried that any British attempts at intervention might prove counterproductive.58 Leon Brittan, the Chairman of the Conservative Bow Group, warned that a dead Mandela would become a martyr, making a solution to South Africa’s problems even less likely.59 A delegation from the antiapartheid movement, including the Labour M.P. Barbara Castle and the future Lord Chancellor Lord Gardiner, visited the Foreign Office, but were told that any representations could damage Mandela’s prospects.60 On May 7, 1964, the Prime Minister, Alec Douglas-Home, offered to send a private message to Verwoerd about the trial. But Sir Hugh Stephenson recommended that “no more pressure should be exerted,” and contrary to some published reports there is no evidence that the message was sent.61 When the South African Ambassador called on the Foreign Office that month he was told that the government was now under less pressure to take a stronger line against South Africa, though death sentences would bring the matter to a head again.62 The British Embassy in Pretoria reported to London that Major General Hendrik van den Bergh, the head of the South African Special Branch (who would later become head of the secret service BOSS), did not expect death sentences, and that Yutar would not ask for them.63 But it was not until early June, a week before the verdict was delivered, that George Bizos was told by the inebriated British Consul-General, Leslie Minford, who was thought to have intelligence links: “George, there won’t be a death sentence.”64

  After Mandela’s speech, Walter Sisulu had to face the more testing ordeal of cross-examination by Yutar. It had worried his lawyers beforehand, as they would not be able to help him, but they were aware that Sisulu, despite his lack of formal education, had a powerful intellect. “He had an amazing knack of asking a simple question and demanding an answer,” said Bizos. “The answer became self-evident, and was the solution to the problem.”65 In the event Sisulu survived five days of questioning by Yutar, and many interjections from the judge, with coolness and shrewdness, and refused to incriminate any of the other conspirators. “To sentence such a man to death,” thought Joffe, “would not be easy for any judge.”66

  Soon after Sisulu had given his evidence, his wife, Albertina, was invited by the British Consul, with a few other black guests, to the Queen’s Birthday party in Johannesburg: when they arrived, five of the white catering staff walked out. The Rivonia prisoners were encouraged by the British invitation—the first to anyone openly associated with the ANC—but a Consulate spokesman explained that Albertina had been invited solely “as a person well-known for her social work and charitable activities.”67

  Sisulu was followed in the witness box by Kathrada and Raymond Mhlaba, two other Rivonia conspirators against whom the prosecutor’s case was much weaker; then by Rusty Bernstein, against whom it was the weakest of all. Govan Mbeki came next; he was undeniably at the heart of the conspiracy, but did not defend Operation Mayibuye in court, and gave nothing away that was not already in evidence. He was followed by Dennis Goldberg, Elias Motsoaledi and Andrew Mlangeni, also Rivonia conspirators. Then Percy Yutar delivered his final address—including extravagant accusations, some of which were punctured by the judge, but which still provided deadly ammunition—before Chaskalson and Fischer gave their final defense.

  Judge Quartus de Wet adjourned for three weeks to consider his verdict, which he pronounced on June 11. He accepted that the accused had not authorized Operation Mayibuye: “It had not been proved that the plan had progressed beyond the preparation stage, and I adhere to this view.” But he judged that the ANC was a “communist-dominated organization,” quoting Mandela’s own account of the views of other African leaders. And he found all the accused, with the exception of Bernstein, guilty of sabotage.68 Mandela was angry that Kathrada and Mhlaba had not also been acquitted, but he was not surprised by the verdict on himself. His only uncertainty was about the sentence, which would be delivered the next day. He was prepared for death, and thought of the words from Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure:

  Be absolute for death; either death or life

  Shall thereby be the sweeter.69

  If he was sentenced to death he had decided he would make a defiant statement, for which he wrote some very brief notes:

  1 Statement from dock.

  2 I meant everything I said.

  3 The blood of many patriots in this country has been shed for demanding treatment in conformity with civilised standards.

  4 *

  5 If I must die, let me declare for all to know that I will meet my fate like a man.70

  Mandela, Mbeki and Sisulu had all decided early in the trial that whatever the sentence, they would not appeal for mercy: since this was a political trial, an appeal would be an anticlimax, and they wanted to convey the message, Mandela said, that “no sacrifice was too great in the struggle for freedom.” He was convinced that the Appeal Court would not reverse the judgment anyway.71 The defense lawyers were dismayed by the prisoners’ refusal to appeal, and also stunned by their courage: “The decision was politically unassailable,” Bram Fischer wrote to a young friend in exile, after describing the prisoners’ discussion. “I want you to know what incredibly brave men you and others will have to be to be their successors.”72 But after the verdict the lawyers made a plea for mitigation, which was supported in court the next morning by the liberal novelist Alan Paton, who stressed the ANC leaders’ sincerity and the importance of clemency for future peace, in spite of his worries about communism. “I had no doubt that Bram Fischer was ‘using’ me,” Paton wrote afterward, “and I had no objection to being used for a purpose of this kind.”73

  When de Wet came to give sentence, Mandela was heartened to notice that “it was not the accused in the dock who were visibly nervous but the judge himself.”74 The judge said he had decided not to impose the supreme penalty—there was a gasp of relief in the courtroom—but that was the only leniency he could show. He then sentenced eight of them to life imprisonment. Mandela actually smiled; Sisulu was so relieved that he felt almost as if he’d been discharged.75

  Mandela’s notes for the statement he intended to make from the dock if he was sentenced to death.

  There was confusion in the courtroom as spectators rushed out with the news. Mandela could not even gesture to Winnie and his mother, the bent and bewildered figure beside her, before the police bore down on him and the other prisoners to take them to the cells below. After half an hour they were driven away in a police van—avoiding the crowd, who could see only Mandela’s hand saluting through the bars—to Pretoria Local prison, where the gates clanged behind them.76

  The press reaction to the sentence revealed the gap between opinion in white South Africa and in the
West. In London, the right-wing papers were almost as critical of the Pretoria government as was the liberal press: the Daily Telegraph editorial was headed “South Africa on Trial,” the Guardian’s “South Africa in the Dock,” The Times’s “Siege Law.”77 But the leader in the Johannesburg Sunday Times warned blacks that the verdict showed that “the answer to their problem does not lie in violence and subversion,” while its front page splashed with “RIVONIA: THE INSIDE STORY.” It was described as “a story of intrigue, treason, muddle, money-fiddling, betrayal and brilliant detective work,” as revealed by Major General van den Bergh.78 The Star was glad that the conspirators would not be hanged, but relieved that they were out of the way: “Their plot was foolhardy in the extreme, and might have had disastrous results for many besides themselves if it had not been nipped in the bud. They have reason to be thankful that it ended as it did—and so have we all.”79

  The British and American governments both considered bringing pressure on South Africa to reduce the sentences, but the American Ambassador agreed with Sir Hugh Stephenson, who thought that any intervention would “produce the most strongly adverse reaction.”80 The Foreign Office found the argument “not wholly convincing,” and looked for some American support. The Foreign Secretary, Rab Butler, wanted Stephenson to meet the South African Foreign Minister, Dr. Muller, to “express views in favour of abatement,” but no such talk is recorded.81