South Africa

The jailing of former President Jacob Zuma has exposed both the strengths and the shortcomings of the system of governance put in place following South Africa's 1994 transition from apartheid to non-racial democracy.

South Africa's Constitutional Court has sentenced former President Jacob Zuma to fifteen months in prison for defying a court order to appear before the Zondo Commission, which is investigating charges of corruption during Zuma’s 2009-2018 presidency. As the court is the highest in the land, Zuma cannot appeal. Nine justices ruled. All agreed that Zuma was guilty; seven favored imprisonment, while two favored a suspended sentence. This is the first time a former chief of state in South Africa has been sentenced to prison. Zuma has five days to turn himself in to the authorities in Johannesburg or Nkandla, his home in KwaZulu-Natal. If he fails to do so, the court has ordered the commissioner of police to arrest him within three days. Holding accountable a former chief of state through a domestic legal and judicial process in Africa appears to be without precedent. Some chiefs of state have been toppled through coups; others removed from office have been tried by international tribunals. In Zuma's case, he was tried and convicted under South African law and by the South African judicial system through an utterly transparent process. Zuma's conviction underscores that South Africa has the continent's strongest culture of the rule of law and independence of the judiciary, both of which underpin a strong democratic trajectory. Zuma retains political support, especially in his home province of KwaZulu-Natal. There could be some concern that his supporters might demonstrate or even try to block his arrest. However, South Africa is under a strict lockdown because of the resurgence of COVID-19, making it difficult to assemble a mob. In 2016, the Public Protector—an office established by the constitution to investigate and remedy improper behavior by government officials—recommended the establishment of a commission to consider allegations of corruption by the Zuma presidency. With no choice, Zuma established the Commission of Inquiry into Allegations of State Capture, headed by Deputy Chief Justice Raymond Zondo. Zuma has persistently stonewalled the work of the commission and refused to appear before it, even when the court ordered him to do so. That is the immediate background to the most recent ruling. President Cyril Ramaphosa defeated Zuma for the leadership of the governing African National Congress and subsequently for the presidency of South Africa in part because Zuma and his administration were seen as corrupt. But, Zuma, a populist in style, has retained significant support in the country and the party, especially among the poor and marginalized and among his fellow Zulus, the largest ethnic group in the country. Zuma and his supporters have sought to thwart Ramaphosa's efforts at state reform. Zuma's conviction and jailing by an independent judiciary is likely to strengthen Ramaphosa's hand as he goes about implementing reforms. The bottom line, however, is that Zuma's conviction and jailing provides a powerful example to other African states of holding their rulers to account. This publication is part of the Diamonstein-Spielvogel Project on the Future of Democracy.

South Africa is a democracy conducted according to the rule of law with a genuinely independent judiciary. While post-apartheid South Africa has made progress in addressing extreme poverty among the black majority, the white minority (just under 8 percent of the population) dominates the economy and enjoys a first-world standard of living, while that of the black majority has been compared to Cameroon. The African National Congress (ANC), the party which has dominated government since the end of apartheid in 1994, is a mélange of democratic and "liberation" assumptions and procedures. Once multiracial, the ANC is now largely a Black political party. During the 2009–2018 presidency of Jacob Zuma, it became deeply ensnarled in corruption and steadily lost the support of the electorate. Zuma is widely regarded as personally corrupt. Cyril Ramaphosa, a close associate of Nelson Mandela, campaigned within the party to unseat Zuma and clean up the corruption, not least to stimulate foreign and domestic investment in the economy. Ramaphosa only narrowly won, and Zuma retains considerable influence. Nevertheless, Ramaphosa's victory was the occasion for the longstanding criminal proceedings to go forward against Zuma for corruption, specifically involving bribes paid by a French company to secure defense contracts more than a decade ago. There have since been many courtroom dramas: the latest is that Zuma's trial has been postponed until July 19. In effect, Zuma and his lawyers have sought to make the case a political rather than judicial one. If convicted, Zuma would likely go to jail. As part of his ANC cleanup, Ramaphosa has also suspended Ace Magashule—a close Zuma ally also credibly accused of corruption—from his position as the ANC secretary-general. Zuma, Magashule, and others are seeking to recapture somehow the ANC and ultimately force out Ramaphosa. For the time being, Ramaphosa has the upper hand. The backstory is that the ANC is deeply divided. One wing, associated with Zuma, sees Black poverty as best addressed through vast expansion of the state in the economy, with it becoming an employer of last resort, and massive programs of transfer payments for the redistribution of wealth. It is often impatient with constitutional and legal provisions that protect private property and limit what the state can do. Similarly, it sometimes resents the independence of the judiciary. This wing is "populist," and has been associated with the Zulu ethnic group, which makes up about a quarter of the population. It is often conservative on social issues, disliking, for example, gay marriage. On the other hand, it is home to many female politicians. The other wing, now associated with Ramaphosa, seeks to address poverty by diversifying the economy, largely through private investment, to spur growth. That wing sees corruption as a significant bar to the investment the economy needs if it is to grow fast enough to reduce poverty. On social issues, it is broadly progressive and seeks to downplay ethnic identities. As with democratic politics anywhere, numerous other factors shape the ANC, including personalities and personal ambition. For example, in the 2018 contest to lead the party, Ramaphosa's chief opponent was Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, an ex-wife of Jacob Zuma but a formidable politician in her own right. The business community generally favors the Ramaphosa wing, with its greater openness to international trade and investment. But the Zuma wing remains in many ways the voice of the townships and rural dwellers left behind in post-apartheid South Africa.

President Cyril Ramaphosa of South Africa has an extraordinarily tough job. He leads a country reeling from a series of corruption scandals and a party at war with itself.

Jihadi attacks in Mozambique’s Cabo Delgado province are accelerating, with heavy fighting breaking out around the town of Palma. In response, South Africa’s President Cyril Ramaphosa sent South African troops to evacuate South African nationals. The French oil and gas company Total has evacuated its employees from its Afungi gas facility and suspended construction on a $20 billion project. The Maputo government has, for much of the insurgency, routinely declined international help. But with the jihadi group Ansar al Sunna (ASWJ) increasing in strength, international assistance is now being accepted with greater regularity. Thus far, the Biden administration has sent a special forces detachment to provide counterinsurgency training to Mozambican forces. Portugal and the European Union are offering assistance as well. Maputo has requested military assistance from South Africa, but Ramaphosa declined on the basis that the insurgency is too big for a bilateral response. Meanwhile, the contract with South African private military contractor Dyck Advisory Group will not be renewed. The relevant multilateral security pact in the region is the Southern African Development Community (SADC), which will meet on Thursday to discuss the situation in northern Mozambique but apparently lacks the necessary funding to provide significant assistance. Further potential outside financial assistance from the European Union, South Africa, or the United States should not be ruled out, though it is unclear at present what the method of providing such assistance would be. SADC has not been particularly successful at conflict resolution and donors may well seek a different vehicle for providing their assistance.

The Africa Centres for Disease Control and Prevention (Africa CDC) has announced that the COVID-19 case fatality rate in Africa is now 2.5 percent, higher than the worldwide level of 2.2 percent. (According to Johns Hopkins University, in the United States the rate is 1.7 percent; in New Zealand, 1.1 percent.) In twenty-one countries on the continent the case fatality rate is 3 percent or higher. Africa CDC announced that there were 207,000 new cases the week of January 18, of which 100,000 were in South Africa. African statistics with respect to COVID should be treated with caution. Most African countries have poorly developed public health infrastructures and testing for COVID is not as widespread as in other parts of the world. South Africa in general has the continent's best official statistics, and it has implemented a vigorous COVID testing regime. Hence, it is not surprising that the South African percentage of reported African COVID-19 cases is high—though a new variant of the disease driving explosive growth in South African case numbers also explains some of the country's disproportionate affliction. Overall, African mortality statistics are probably better than those measuring specific diseases but vary considerably from one country to another. For example, a much higher percentage of deaths are officially recorded in South African than in Nigeria. Africa has a heavy disease burden, food insecurity is widespread, and medical infrastructure is often poor. Up to now, it had been thought the COVID case fatality rate in Africa was less than in other parts of the world. Explanations included that its population is more youthful [PDF] and could have acquired some immunity because of exposure to other diseases. Even with those caveats in mind, the clear takeaway from the recent announcement is that the case fatality rate from COVID-19 in Africa is going up.

When COVID-19 struck, public health experts predicted that it would be particularly devastating in sub-Saharan Africa. A UN agency estimated that, in the worst case scenario, 3.3 million Africans would die from the disease. In a region that is poor, often with weak governments, and at best rudimentary health systems, the disease seemed to portend a disaster. In response, South Africa and Nigeria shut down their economies—as did most other African countries, to a greater or lesser extent. In general, African governments instituted the international public health recommendations of social distancing, handwashing, and mask wearing. The economic impact on the poor has been severe, but the lockdown measures seemed to work. Sub-Saharan Africa appeared to have a significantly smaller COVID-19 burden than other parts of the world. With much head scratching, observers cited the continent's relatively young population and the effectiveness of public health measures taken by governments. However, in many, perhaps most, parts of Africa those public health measures were of limited duration—when they were followed at all. A large part of the population does not have ready access to hand-washing facilities, social distancing is impossible in the packed slums that most urban Africans live, and face-to-face interchange is central to traditional African economies. Face-covering seemed no more popular than elsewhere.  Perhaps South Africa provides insight as to the extent of the disease across the continent. South Africa has by far the most modern economy in Africa and has a strong government that implemented all of the recommended public health measures. The rate of compliance with them appears to have been high—in part due to heavy-handed enforcement of stringent protocols. Yet South Africa has nonetheless become ground zero for the disease: over 40 percent of sub-Saharan Africa's COVID-19 deaths are in the Rainbow Nation.  South Africa also has the best national statistics of any large African country. Deaths and their cause are compiled, registered, and published. Not so elsewhere on the continent. Ruth Maclean, writing in the New York Times, has looked at COVID-19 and African statistics. She finds that in most sub-Saharan countries, most deaths are never registered. Making reliable data on causes of death depends on anecdotal reports by grave diggers, funeral directors, and family members. In 2017, only 10 percent of deaths in Nigeria were registered. Khartoum has a rudimentary death registration system. But there, she cites a highly sophisticated study that credibly argues that COVID killed more than 16,000, rather than the 477 cited in official statistics. A hypothesis is that COVID-19 deaths in sub-Saharan Africa are significantly underreported—even in South Africa. If so, the list of unknowns ranges from how many Africans contracted the disease, how many died, and how effective (or not) were the internally public health recommendations that governments tried to institute.

It was long expected that Africa, with its weak public health infrastructure and the impoverishment of its population, would face particular disaster with the outbreak of COVID-19. It arrived later than in other parts of the world, apparently mostly from Europe. The disease's earliest, high-profile victims were among those able to travel abroad, and South Africa—the country with probably the most extensive links to the rest of the world—early became the epicenter of the disease. Of the big African countries, it has the best public health infrastructure and the best statistics. Hence, there can be greater confidence in official statements about how pervasive the disease has become. South Africa is once again the epicenter of the current wave of infections, driven, apparently, by a mutant strain of the virus. According to health experts cited by Western media, South Africa now accounts for an estimated 40 percent of COVID-19 cases in all of Africa. South African hospitals are overwhelmed. President Cyril Ramaphosa has responded by re-imposing strict restrictions on public behavior in an effort to "flatten the curve" of new infections. Supported by a population terrified by what had happened elsewhere, when the first wave of the disease arrived, African governments moved quickly to apply the conventional methods to control the disease: closed borders, lockdowns, exhortations for mask wearing and hand washing, and social distancing. Economic ruin, however, led African governments to abandon most of the more draconian steps. Nevertheless, the disease appeared less deadly than elsewhere. That led to some research and more speculation about why Africa was doing better. Hypotheses included the swift action taken by African governments to the young population (COVID-19 is particularly fatal among the elderly) to speculation about the impact of earlier vaccination campaigns for other diseases might have had.  But now the disease appears to be roaring back, with South Africa particularly hard-hit. But media treatment continues to be largely anecdotal, heart-rending stories of deaths caused by equipment shortages in overburdened public hospitals. There is new speculation that COVID-19 may be just as bad in Africa as it has been in the rest of the world. Lack of hard information makes it hard to generalize about COVID-19 in Africa, nevertheless, here goes. There is significant variation from one country to another on a huge continent with more than fifty countries. For example, South Africa has the highest level of social and economic development in Africa. It also has a larger percentage of elderly people vulnerable to the disease. It also has a good statistics service. Both factors contribute to the country seeming to have a much higher level of infection than the rest of the continent. On the other hand, it is difficult to estimate the pervasiveness of the disease in countries such as the Democratic Republic of Congo that lack a strong statistics office and where the public health infrastructure is less developed. Even in good times and before COVID-19 arrived, the disease burden in Africa is heavier than in other parts of the world. Weak statistics make it hard to determine actual mortality rates and, not least, in some African cultures, people return home to die and their deaths are not counted officially. As elsewhere in the world, the poor are most of the victims. It remains to be seen when the coronavirus vaccine will become available. South Africa’s Ramaphosa says the government is negotiating with pharmaceutical companies. That said, it also still appears likely that mortality rates from the disease are lower than in other parts of the world: for example, new, mass grave sites visible from the air are rare. Hence, the question remains: even if the disease in Africa is terrible, it appears less terrible than elsewhere. Why? The answer to that question is important, but it will require hard research and analysis rather than anecdotes.

Jacob Ware is a research associate for counterterrorism and the Studies program at the Council on Foreign Relations. His research focuses on global far-right terrorism and countering violent extremism, and his work has appeared in the Wall Street Journal, CNN, War on the Rocks, and in the academic journal Studies in Conflict & Terrorism. As white supremacist militancy has raced across the Western world, it has not spared South Africa from being swept up in the chaos. Domestic South African white supremacist movements both inform white supremacist movements elsewhere, and at the same time are influenced by global trends on the extreme right. South Africa, of course, has its own long—and painful—history of white supremacism. The formal apartheid system, which governed the country for over 40 years, institutionally oppressed the Black population, concentrating political, economic, and judicial power exclusively in white hands. Since the 1990s, when apartheid finally collapsed, race relations have remained raw, and the white population still holds much of the economic capital. The country remains one of the world's premier examples of the postcolonial challenges in managing racial tensions and promoting a sustainable national identity in a democratic context with the rule of law. Accordingly, South Africa still inflames the passions of white supremacists around the world. Dylann Roof, murderer of nine African Americans at Bible study at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina in June 2015, was in no small part inspired by white supremacism in southern Africa—his Facebook profile picture showed him in a jacket emblazoned with the flags of Rhodesia, a bastion of white supremacy before it achieved independence as Zimbabwe, and apartheid-era South Africa, and his manifesto was published on a personal website titled “The Last Rhodesian.” The centrality of South Africa to the white supremacist struggle around the world has been summarized by the radical website American Renaissance in March 2018: “the fate of white people around the world is linked to that of the Afrikaners.” Within South Africa, there are periodic reminders of the enduring threat of white supremacist violence. In 2019, for instance, four members of the “Crusaders,” a white supremacist group, were arrested for plotting attacks against Black targets. The Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (Afrikaner Resistance Movement), founded in 1973 by noted white supremacist Eugène Terre'Blanche, also remains active today. The group apparently boasts around 5,000 members, and in 2010, members of the group were arrested for plans to attack Black townships in the wake of the murder of Terre'Blanche—which some claimed was racially motivated. The plotters, based in Pretoria, had also threatened foreigners and players traveling to the country for the 2010 World Cup. And in 2002, a far-right group calling itself the “Warriors of the Boer Nation” claimed responsibility for a series of blasts targeting the township of Soweto, in which one woman was killed. The transnational white supremacist threat has manifested itself in devastating attacks in the U.S., Europe (especially Norway and Germany), and New Zealand, where an extremist murdered 51 in twin attacks at two mosques in Christchurch in March 2019. And the same networks responsible for violence elsewhere have reached Africa's southernmost state. The Base, a neo-Nazi organization whose members have been arrested for major plots in Maryland and Georgia, had recruited in South Africa. And Simon Roche, a senior figure in the Suidlanders, an Afrikaner survivalist group, marched with other white supremacists at the Charlottesville Unite the Right rally in August 2017—an event at which a young woman was killed in a far-right car ramming attack. One is always tempted to dismiss such activism if it hasn't yet manifested in violence—but as one Cape Town-based journalist recently wrote, “We laugh at the far right because it makes them seem less frightening, but it doesn't make them any less dangerous.” After all, in the age of social media radicalization and lone actor terrorism, all it takes is one. As the threat remains contained, South Africa's counterterrorism measures should surgically target more extreme fringes. Confronting race-based conspiracy theories—such as the false claim that Black South Africans were killing white farmers that was infamously tweeted by President Trump in August 2018—is essential. It can be pursed both through promoting truthfulness online and marginalizing proponents of hate speech. South Africa's intelligence agencies, meanwhile, should be aware of international networks' and groups' efforts to recruit and radicalize within the country, while continuing to maintain vigilance over groups active in South Africa itself. 

Anthony Carroll is founding director of Acorus Capital, a private equity fund investing in Africa, and a vice president of Manchester Trade Limited, an international business advisory firm. He has over forty years of experience working with Africa and is an adjunct professor at Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. As a part of its series "Those We've Lost," the New York Times last week published the obituary of Dirk Mudge, who died of COVID-19 in Windhoek, Namibia on August 26, which was, fittingly, Namibia's Heroes Day. While Mr. Mudge had retired from politics in 1993, he played a crucial role in Namibia's independence and, as a result, in ending apartheid in neighboring South Africa. I first heard the unforgettable name Dirk Mudge in 1977 while serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in neighboring Botswana. Mudge's ancestors were Afrikaner farmers who trekked northward from South Africa in the 18th century. Their descendants are still very influential in the beef industries of both Namibia and Botswana. These Afrikaner settlers later came under the colonial rule of Germany during the late 19th century’s "scramble for Africa." That scramble created South West Africa, where German colonial rulers perpetrated the first genocide of the 20th century, mostly against the Herero people. After Germany's defeat in World War I, Namibia was placed under South African administration, a rule that continued in contravention of international law until 1990. (Actually 1994, with the handover of the port of Walvis Bay – the last "vestige" of that ruinous treaty, according to Namibia's first chief justice Hans Berker).   After the 1948 election, South Africa came under the governance of the National Party, which instituted the odious system of apartheid. As its de facto "Fifth Province," South West Africa was subjected to the same legal regime based upon exclusion and enforced by terror. By the 1970s, South Africa was embroiled in a costly and unpopular "border" war with Angola and fighters from the South West Africa People's Organization (SWAPO). SWAPO has been Namibia's ruling party since independence. By the mid-1980s, it became clear that a military solution to South Africa's continued illegal rule of Namibia was not viable. The U.S. government under the guidance of Assistant Secretary Chester A. Crocker played an important facilitating role in ending the Angolan war as did the UN special representative and Finnish Nobel Laureate Martti Ahtisaari.  However, no amount of external pressure would have worked without an insider to show South Africa the door. Dirk Mudge provided the needed "nudge."  While serving in the country's All White Executive Committee, in 1977 he abandoned the National Party and formed a multiracial party, the Democratic Turnhalle Alliance (DTA). Despite the enmity of White Namibians and the historic mistrust of Black Namibians, Mudge played a pivotal role in disengaging South Africa (without the help of its administrator Louis Pienaar and South African intelligence and its "Third Force") and began the negotiations for independence in 1990 and the drafting of a model democratic constitution. His "inside" role was similar to that of the UDF and DP in South Africa and perhaps provided a road map for the winding down of apartheid in South Africa. Conversely, had things gone badly in Namibia, resistance by conservative "verkramp" Afrikaner elements could have led to a different outcome. Upon learning of his death, Secretary Crocker paid tribute to this vital contribution, describing Mr. Mudge as "a serious and committed person who played a key transitional role in the country he cared deeply about." After independence, the formation of a new constitution, and the conclusion of negotiations on the reintegration of Walvis Bay, Mr. Mudge returned to his "cattle post" in 1993 and raised champion Brahmin cattle. Even with the challenges of corruption and weak opposition to the ruling party, many observers still believe that Namibia has been the most successful nation in southern Africa to emerge from a protracted and violent armed struggle. While there are many heroes who contributed to that success, including some who paid with their lives, Dirk Mudge certainly deserves recognition for his commitment to bringing democracy and majority rule to his country.

South Africans have long feared that corruption would move from "retail," small-scale and individualistic, to "structural," as it is in some other African countries, where corruption infuses the political economy. Those fears accelerated during the 2009-2018 presidency of Jacob Zuma, which was characterized by nepotism, cronyism, and patronage networks, altogether labeled "state capture," and blatant corruption within some state-owned enterprises fully reported by the media. Corruption also fueled Zuma's efforts to remain in power and to undermine South African institutions that limited what he could do, which were established during the transition from apartheid to "non-racial" democracy. Those institutions, supported by freedom of the press, a strong parliamentary opposition, a growing democratic culture, and operating within Africa's most developed economy, were strong enough to survive Zuma. Since the first "non-racial" elections in 1994, South Africa has been governed by the African National Congress (ANC), by origin an anti-apartheid liberation movement that has always been "big tent" and multi-racial. It was the party of national icon Nelson Mandela. Especially under Zuma, it became less multi-racial, was widely accused of corruption, and its popular support has steadily eroded. The country's economy severely contracted in the aftermath of the 2008 world-wide financial crisis, and recovery was slow. With declining popular support, the stage was set for Cyril Ramaphosa's successful challenge of Zuma within the ANC for party leadership and the national presidency in 2018. However, bolstered by his extensive patronage network, Zuma and his allies retained significant power within the party. Since 2018, Ramaphosa has moved slowly and carefully to sideline Zuma's supporters, reform the economy, and tackle corruption. Ramaphosa's popularity owes much to his perceived competency and his opposition to corruption.  Reformers often accuse Ramaphosa of moving too slowly against corruption. However, over the last weekend in August, the ANC's National Executive Council, the supreme leadership organ between national conventions, determined that all ANC government and party officials accused of corruption must be suspended from office pending investigation and resolution of the charges. No doubt the NEC was moved by, among other factors, public outrage over the perceived corruption of some ANC personalities with respect to disbursement of COVID-19 relief. (South Africa has by far the largest COVID-19 caseload in Africa.) Though some of the party leaders affected by the new policy are allies of Ramaphosa, far more are associated with Zuma. Hence, the NEC, led by Ramaphosa, appears to have taken meaningful steps against corruption while at the same time strengthening the president's position within the party.   

In the United States and other developed countries in the Northern Hemisphere, there has been anxiety about the consequences of the COVID-19 caseload overlapping with seasonal influenza (flu) in the autumn and winter (2020-2021). There have been alarming projections that hospitals and other medical facilities could be overwhelmed. In response, there are already public campaigns underway urging Americans to get their seasonal flu shots. In South Africa, already with the highest COVID-19 caseload in Africa with over 600,000 cases, seasonal flu most years kills some 12,000 South Africans. Late August, the end of winter in the Southern Hemisphere, is the end of the flu season. This year, however, there have been almost no cases of seasonal influenza in South Africa. According to American media, flu has also largely passed by other Southern Hemisphere countries, such as Argentina, Australia, and New Zealand. South African experts attribute the steps taken against coronavirus as stopping flu in its tracks. Shutting down schools (where flu incubates frequently), wearing masks, and social distancing have proven highly effective in stopping flu. Faced with the COVID-19 pandemic, many more South Africans than usual have availed themselves of flu shots. Why are those steps so much more successful against flu than COVID-19? Those same experts note that COVID-19 is much more lethal and spreads more easily and quickly than flu. Measures strong enough to stop flu are not strong enough alone to stop COVID-19. Nevertheless, the news from South Africa and the Southern Hemisphere is promising. Maybe the Northern Hemisphere will be spared the misery of flu in the upcoming autumn and winter flu season.  A side note: COVID-19 also seems to be on the retreat in South Africa, with the caseload declining. President Cyril Ramaphosa has reduced the lockdown, though mask wearing and social distancing remain mandatory. 

Anthony Carroll is founding director of Acorus Capital, a private equity fund investing in Africa, and a vice president of Manchester Trade Limited, an international business advisory firm. He has over forty years of experience working with Africa and is an adjunct professor at Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies. Andrew Mlangeni’s death last week represents something of a passing of the guard for South Africa’s liberation struggle. Andrew was the last living defendant of the 1963 Rivonia trial, which resulted in the sentencing of Andrew and ten others, among them, Ahmed Kathrada, Walter Sisulu, Govan Mbeki and, most famously, Nelson Mandela. In a highly publicized trial, the defendants were found guilty of sedition and conspiracy. The Rivonia trial and the Sharpeville massacre, which occurred three years earlier, were turning points in the world’s view of apartheid South Africa. The images of unarmed protesters being shot in the back and the regal presence of Nelson Mandela in a Pretoria dock shouting “Amandla” were indelible. Andrew and seven co-conspirators were arrested in 1963 at Denis Goldberg’s Lilliesleaf Farm in Rivonia, a suburb of Johannesburg. Goldberg, who died a few weeks ago, was a fellow member of the uMkhonto we Sizwe (UK), the armed wing of the African National Congress (ANC). Denis was arrested along with Rusty Berstein, Bob Hippler, Arthur Goldreich, and later Harold Wolpe. All were members of the Jewish left that supported the ANC by offering legal counsel, modest shelter, and even more modest finances to a movement always on the run.  At the time, the only unknown outcome of the Riovonia trial was whether the key defendants would be sentenced to death. Perhaps due to the international attention of trial, a sympathetic judge, and an all-star defense team, Andrew and his co-defendants were spared the death penalty, but received life sentences. What always struck me about Andrew Mlangeni was his humility and integrity. Unlike Govan Mbeki, Walter Sisulu, and Nelson Mandela, Mlangeni was from the Orange Free State and later moved to Soweto with his widowed mother. Owing to poverty, he dropped out of school to help support his mother by working as a golf caddie, factory worker, and bus driver. He became active in the labor movement, but his frustration with the oppression of apartheid and the horror of Sharpeville caused him to be among the first members of the UK. Andrew was trained in China and later secreted back into South Africa. Two years later, he began a life sentence on Robben Island following the Rivonia verdict.  For over twenty years, Andrew Mlangeni occupied the cell next to Nelson Mandela on Robben Island. Like Mandela, he generally lacked bitterness and was optimistic about the peaceful evolution of a democratic and non-racial South Africa. In 1994, he was elected to serve in South Africa’s first multi-racial parliament and remained an icon of the liberation struggle without ever intending to be so. His autobiography is entitled “Backroom Boy.” About four years ago, I had the opportunity to meet Ahmed Kathrada at the Lilliesleaf Farm at an event honoring the contributions of the Norwegian people to the anti-apartheid struggle. Just months before, Ahmed had openly criticized the administration of Jacob Zuma and the diversion of some ANC leaders from serving the people of South Africa to serving themselves. Andrew also found the courage to speak out against the predatory nature of the Zuma presidency and ANC leadership, who, he said, ”were no longer interested in improving the lives of our people.” It was again the courage of Kathrada and Mlangeni that helped South Africa to bring down a corrupt regime, this time that of Jacob Zuma, and bring to power credible leadership that they had long fought and suffered for.