Africanism in the Postapartheid Era

Analysts of black politics are currently puzzled by the dispute between the two main black groups that oppose negotiations and seem ideologically so close together, Azapo and the PAC. At the beginning of the 1990s, both groups have been marginalized by their opposition to the Charterist power-sharing project, and they appear to have escalated their bickering. According to Patrick Lawrence, a journalist: “Given the convergence between their ideological positions, including their insistence on black leadership and their commitment to socialism, Azapo and PAC were strongly hostile to one another. Azapo accused the PAC of intolerance, of forcing Azapo members to wear their T-shirts inside out at a Sharpeville Day commemorative service instead of welcoming them as brothers-in-the-struggle, and of belatedly pressing for a constituent assembly, an idea first promoted by Azapo in 1984.”^[27] Behind the quarreling, however, lies a class difference that often is overlooked.

The PAC speaks on behalf of some of the least-privileged and least-educated members of the oppressed majority. With a reservoir of Africanist sentiment in some rural areas and among recent migrants, the social base of the PAC resembles that of Inkatha rather than the more professionally led, urban-oriented ANC. On the other hand, Azapo has always attracted a better-educated elite, being particularly popular among university staff, clergy, journalists, and other professionals. Owing in part to its sprinkling of Indians in prominent leadership positions, Azapo continues to be resented by some Africanists—just as the PAC initially objected to the perceived inordinate influence of Indians and white communists in the ANC. Azapo leader Gomolemo Mokae seems to have succumbed to this anti-Indianism in 1992, when he accused BC of having “molly-coddled the Indian component of the black community”: “Given that this component has yet to show, across the ideological spectrum of the liberation movements, much passion and willingness to engage in the struggle at grassroots level, is it not incongruous that they command such considerable power within all sections of the liberation movement?” he asks in an apartheid-like mode (Work in Progress 85, October 1992). Although the PAC also has a few prominent non-African members, it offers essentially a very down-to-earth articulation of diverse grass-roots sentiments. To oversimplify: Azapo constitutes a sophisticated intellectual elite in search of a constituency, while the PAC’s potentially powerful army has been poorly served by its disorganized, quarreling generals.

The PAC’s repeated internecine conflicts and petty ideological disputes stand out especially in comparison with the united ANC. The ANC has also had the advantage of much wider international recognition, diplomatic support, and a sympathetic international press (which has virtually ignored the PAC). Moreover, the ANC has benefited from a wider pool of experience and expertise in resistance politics. The popular symbols of resistance—the toyi-toyi dance, songs, and colors—are all associated with the ANC tradition, and they are also used by Inkatha. Contrary to expectations that an Africanist cultural revival would engender strong political emotions, these emotions originated from the internationalist-oriented ANC.

In terms of external support, the Soviet bloc’s preference for the ANC far outweighed China’s initial support for the PAC in the intersocialist rivalry. Only in a few China-aligned Frontline States, such as Zimbabwe and Tanzania, did the PAC receive some external support. But this rapidly evaporated after Mandela’s release. The PAC’s ambiguous stance toward negotiations and the joining of a short-lived “patriotic front” with the ANC in 1991 further illustrates the lack of cohesiveness among its constituency.^[28]

In defining who is an African, PAC General Secretary Benny Alexander distinguishes “two strains.” The first consists of indigenous people “who historically cannot be traced out of Africa.” Whites and Asians whose only home and sole allegiance is to Africa constitute the second strain.^[29] For the PAC this formula amounts to a nonracial concept that defines the nation. It accepts self-declarations of allegiance, so that those who define themselves as non-African do so by choice. “Settlers” applies only to those whites who oppress indigenous people.^[30]

Oscar Dhlomo has rightly stressed that the PAC’s position that anyone can be an African by choice, regardless of color, “will only become meaningful the moment the movement begins to admit nonblack members” (Sunday Times, September 1, 1991). At present, the absence of whites in the PAC implies that this group does not identify with its own commendable nonracial postulate about Africans.

Another contradiction lies in the PAC’s insistence on armed struggle even as it enters negotiations with the government. The PAC’s policy is to attack security forces only, and it has not renounced armed struggle as the principal method to bring about liberation. The Azanian People’s Liberation Army (Apla), the armed wing of the PAC, has generally concentrated on the assassinations of policemen. The few Apla guerrillas convicted in South African courts, even after the suspension of armed struggle by the ANC, had mostly received training in Tanzania and Libya. According to estimates by the International Institute for Strategic Studies, the PAC commands about 350 trained operatives. The ANC and PAC ridicule each other’s claims of military confrontations with the enemy as fantasies, with the PAC pointing to the “random terror” of the ANC. The PAC does not disclose any information about incidents involving its combatants unless it loses people.

Benny Alexander also claims that at the end of 1990 “our membership was bigger than theirs [ANC’s]” and that the PAC has “the support of most of the oppressed intelligentsia.” Few would view these claims as accurate in the light of attendance figures at rallies and surveys that generally indicate three to four times greater support for the ANC. However, if negotiations fail or turn out to be too compromising, the PAC and Azapo could potentially regain mass support and again eclipse the ANC. Yet by beginning to negotiate with the government in 1992, the PAC has lost its radical image and adopted a posture closer to that of the ANC. This leaves Azapo as the sole proponent of the purist stance.

Azapo now portrays itself as the vanguard for the struggle for socialism in “occupied Azania.” The SACP is viewed as having betrayed the struggle for socialism “by riding the ANC towards a negotiated settlement of compromise with the de Klerk regime, which has the potential to set back socialist transformation by many decades” (Work in Progress 73, March–April 1991). Both Azapo and the PAC are vague when pressed to describe their vision of “scientific socialism” more concretely. A forty-one-page official booklet published by the PAC, “Towards a Democratic Economic Order,” concludes that the “political and economic mission shall be: redistributive, development, reproductive, accumulative, restorative, entrepreneurial-supportive, human needs’ oriented and equi-beneficial.” If the ANC needs to strengthen and update its economic research capacities, the other anti-apartheid movements are in even weaker positions.

In 1991 Azapo made a tactical error that undermined its influence and public profile. It withdrew from the Patriotic Front that it initially convened together with the ANC and PAC. The contentious issue was the participation of fourteen homeland parties in the tricameral parliament that, together with seventy other organizations, was invited to form a united front for the forthcoming constitutional negotiations. Two weeks before the conference, Azapo General Secretary Don Nkadimeng unilaterally wrote to the homeland parties demanding that they resign from “system-oriented structures” before they “sit with patriots.” With the ANC eager to have the widest possible representation, including particularly the Democratic Party, it could hardly give in to the unrealistic Azapo demand. Azapo thereby missed the chance to present itself with twenty delegates as equal to the ANC and PAC at the founding conference. ANC-oriented observers commented that “it was a suicidal move by an organisation which has been steadily losing influence for the past 15 years” (South Scan, October 25, 1991). However, Azapo can claim that it had never engaged in false compromises in the interests of controversial negotiations.

In conclusion, in the 1990s the BCM and the PAC-aligned Africanists, though outmaneuvered by the ANC, continue to spread their message through community development programs, health awareness projects, and women’s organizations. These groups have left an indelible mark on the discourse in black politics, although they have been overshadowed by the publicity, diplomatic success, and organizational clout of the ANC. Compared to the ANC, Azapo remains primarily an intellectual force. Supported by a number of influential opinion-makers in the universities, as well as by some clerics and trade union leaders, Black Consciousness endures, though more as an alternative vision than an active political movement. Its success and failure lie in the extent to which its ideas have shaped the attitudes of political actors and some of the organizational rivalries—physical clashes between ANC and Azapo supporters notwithstanding.

The historic highpoint of the BCM, the 1976 Soweto uprising, and that of the PAC in 1960 were eclipsed by the subsequent rise of the Charterist hegemony, in which many of the exiled Africanists and Black Consciousness supporters were absorbed. Although the BCM continued as a third exiled liberation movement, separate from the ANC and PAC and without the sponsorship of a major world power, many of its members found their home abroad in the ANC, which in turn benefited from the influx of committed students. Without this infusion of a new generation of young radicals, the subsequent rise and renewal of the Charterist tradition would have been inconceivable. In shedding both the internalized colonial mentality and liberal tutelage, Black Consciousness laid the ground for a self-confident challenge of the apartheid state, whether through negotiations or refusals of co-optation.

A number of observers have stressed the transitional character of the movement; David Hirschmann concludes that the BCM was “ultimately a victim of its own success.”^[31] To be sure, many of its promoters found their home in the ANC and the current numerical support for Azapo’s strategies remains small, according to all surveys. However, the situation might change if the ANC is perceived as too moderate and accommodating. The continued significance of Black Consciousness as well as Africanism lies in their potential. That the ANC leadership feels obliged to use strident language and ultimatums in the negotiations testifies to the latent impact of the more radical alternative.