Paul van Zyl
One of the many remarkable things about “The Arch” (as he was affectionately referred to by those who knew him) was his unfailing ability to provide ethical clarity when the right answer wasn’t always obvious.
I served as the Executive Secretary of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission and observed first-hand how The Arch made difficult decisions that were almost always right.
When PW Botha, South Africa’s notoriously unrepentant Apartheid President, was due to appear before the Truth Commission to answer questions I was preparing, The Arch called me the night before to privately warn me “not to humiliate the old man”.
When I gently reminded him that we had evidence implicating Botha in the authorisation and condonation of torture and assassination, and that a tough approach was justified, The Arch agreed but insisted we conduct the questioning in a manner that upheld Botha’s dignity.
At the time this seemed like an extremely generous way to treat a leader who had imposed enormous suffering on the country.
Botha went on to defy the Truth Commission and refused to subject himself to even a minimal level of accountability. When prosecuted for contempt several months later, Botha justified his refusal with a simple defence: the Truth Commission was a witch-hunt intended not to gather evidence but solely focused on one goal – the humiliation of the former president.
The Arch could not have known when he made that call that Botha would not show up. Nor could he have known that his justification would rest on a claim that he’d be treated in a way that he’d specifically prohibited.
As it turned out Botha appeared petty and insecure and Tutu’s reputation as a magnanimous statesman was reinforced.
It would be tempting to argue that The Arch’s call was informed by a divine premonition. I prefer a more secular explanation. Treating your adversaries with dignity not only increases the chances that conflict will be halted, and a reconciliation begun, but is also in your own self-interest.
The Arch consistently demonstrated that generosity and forgiveness are more powerful forces – when properly deployed – than the defaults of divisiveness and dehumanisation used by weaker leaders.
The Arch also taught us about the danger of believing that people (particularly your friends) who have fought for righteous causes should be governed by a different moral code. He correctly insisted that Apartheid was the original sin, and that the crimes committed defending the regime should not be evaluated in the same way as the conduct of the liberation movement. But at the same time he also insisted that the leadership of the ANC properly account for their shortcomings.
I remember during one specific hearing how he stopped a senior ANC leader mid-testimony as he started to justify the torture of suspected spies. “You will ruin everything if you go down this path,” he scolded. “Freedom fighters bear a special responsibility to uphold our most fundamental freedoms.”
These words, like so many others, proved prescient. At great personal cost, The Arch became a reluctant but forthright critic of the failures and corruption of successive post-Apartheid governments. It is a tribute to the leadership of Cyril Ramaphosa that he has embraced The Arch both personally and politically.
With his mischievous humour and trademark giggle, The Arch constantly offered a kinder, more hopeful and more joyful approach to life.
Paul van Zyl is Co-founder and Chief Creative Officer at The Conduit. He served as the Executive Secretary of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission from 1995 to 1998. A longer version of this article is published in Daily Maverick.
Photo: Desmond & Leah Tutu Legacy Foundation
