South Africa: Crisis of Confidence

By Scott MacLeod/Johannesburg

Every few months, President F.W. de Klerk gathers his Cabinet colleagues together and heads for the bushveld. In a camp in the Transvaal province near the Botswana border, they thrash out political strategy, yet find time to sit around a fire and eat wild game. The idea is to work, but also to relax under the wide African sky.

Last week that sky seemed to be falling in on De Klerk, who returned from his latest two-day retreat to face a credibility crisis that is growing with bush-fire speed. Exposes in the Johannesburg Weekly Mail showed that the ( government, despite repeated denials and stonewalling, had provided covert funds via the South African police to underwrite Inkatha, a group battling the African National Congress for the support of the country's nearly 29 million blacks. By Pretoria's admission, Inkatha and an allied labor union received at least $600,000.

The scandal widened days later, when Foreign Minister Roelof ("Pik") Botha admitted that contrary to previous denials, South Africa had secretly spent more than $36 million to keep the leftist South West Africa People's Organization from winning a commanding victory in pre-independence elections in neighboring Namibia in 1989. Pretoria's support of at least seven parties opposed to SWAPO may have prevented the organization from gaining the two- thirds majority it needed to introduce a socialist constitution.

The disclosures of secrecy and subterfuge undermined De Klerk's credibility at a critical moment. After destroying the pillars of apartheid and persuading the U.S. and other countries to drop their sanctions against South Africa, De Klerk must try to get the A.N.C. and other black groups to the negotiating table to write a new constitution that would extend voting rights to the black majority. "Inkathagate," as the press dubbed the affair, may delay the start of an all-party conference, originally planned as early as September, where the major political groups will decide how to structure negotiations. Use of secret funds by Pretoria also raised suspicions that it was employing below- the-belt tactics to weaken the A.N.C., widely considered the most likely group to win the country's first free elections.

As disturbing, the scandal lent credence to charges that security forces have aided armed attacks by Inkatha supporters on A.N.C. members. Since 1986 more than 6,000 people have been killed in black-vs.-black clashes, giving comfort to those who argue that inherent tribalism renders blacks unfit to be stewards of democracy. A.N.C. president Nelson Mandela has warned that power- sharing talks could founder unless the government can ensure the impartiality of the security forces, a notion Inkathagate now puts in serious doubt.

Mandela, who often described De Klerk as a man of integrity, is now clearly suspicious of his intentions. The A.N.C. demanded a full inquiry and called for a freeze on the $132 million earmarked for secret projects in this year's government budget. As details of covert funding trickled out, politicians -- white and black -- and newspapers across the ideological spectrum demanded quick action to salvage the government's relationship with the A.N.C., including the resignations of the three Cabinet ministers who have been linked to the scandal so far. "De Klerk has blown a good deal of credibility at home and abroad," said Democratic Party M.P. Tony Leon. "He must act swiftly to restore it if he is to retain people's trust."

De Klerk insisted that funds funneled to Inkatha were for the organization's anti-sanctions efforts, not political work. During a photo opportunity with a visiting official, the usually amiable President rebuffed reporters by saying that he would hold off all further comment for another week. The delay led to opposite lines of speculation: either De Klerk was fumbling badly or he was taking time to organize a major shake-up of his security establishment.

The biggest attempt to contain the political fallout from Inkathagate came from the Zulu-based movement itself. Claiming he never knew about Pretoria's $87,500 donation to his organization for two rallies in 1989 and 1990, Inkatha leader Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi repaid the amount to the government; his assistant, M.Z. Khumalo, took responsibility for the transaction and resigned.

Even if De Klerk were to sack the Cabinet members involved in the payment scheme, it would probably be too little, too late. Inkathagate has seriously eroded trust in Pretoria and bolstered suspicions that the President and his National Party colleagues intend to remain in power if they can, and on their own terms. Ironically, Foreign Minister Botha admitted last week that the government's illegal spending "probably" strengthened the A.N.C.'s long- standing demand for a new interim government that includes itself and other black parties.

Freeing Mandela and scrapping the apartheid laws were, in retrospect, simple tasks compared with what must come next. A watching world still has high hopes for a peaceful transition to multiracial democracy in South Africa. But as the Inkatha affair shows, the President is not exactly the smooth agent of political change suggested by his carefully crafted public image.

With reporting by Peter Hawthorne/Cape Town