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A truly South African plan

It is to the credit of the South African negotiation process that it developed a unique procedure and set of measures that are still unequalled in the modern world. A good example of this was the executive transitional councils that made provision for participatory management by all parties during the last phase of the settlement process.

We developed systems, processes and procedures that were as uniquely South African as biltong, boerewors, putu porridge, chakalaka, snoek and biryani.

Europe’s classic textbooks may have given us something of a guide, but we gradually developed our own, often unique, negotiation philosophy and structures. It was better this way: in South Africa, we could not simply accept as gospel what had developed elsewhere over the centuries.

On the one hand, we had to rule the country and keep it as stable as we could so that peaceful negotiations would be possible. On the other hand, an existing government had to negotiate with parties who were actively engaged in undermining this very stability – and who regarded this capacity as their most important means of putting pressure on the process.

Furthermore, support for some of the big parties had not yet been determined democratically, which meant that it was no easy task to gauge their relative weight – and to handle them accordingly. The negotiations had to be fully representative and transparent, too – in the struggle ranks in particular, American president Woodrow Wilson’s ‘open covenants of peace openly arrived at’1 was followed with almost religious fervour.

Nevertheless, the secrecy in all parties’ inner circles was maintained and became progressively more important. Negotiations without secrecy are futile. No negotiator can afford to place his critical aims – and, particularly, the concessions that must, of necessity, be made – before his sometimes fickle and unyielding supporters for approval.

It stands to reason, then, that the core negotiating group could not only include the doves and soft-hearted peacemakers of the various parties. Unless each group included the hawks and the hardened toughies as well, negotiators could forget about getting their message accepted by their sceptical supporters. When it came to reporting back to their respective parties, the words of the hawks were inevitably more credible to party members than those of the doves.

Throughout, the negotiating processes were conducted in many different forums and were often held simultaneously. The opportunity was afforded to hold confidential talks and arrangements were made for leaders at the highest level to conduct special discussions to iron out any problems and to place their seal of approval on developments. Mass conferences were also held so that politicians could have their say and media coverage could stroke their egos. In addition, there were bilateral and multilateral discussions on mutual problems and, last but not least, highly confidential talks with radical groups who wanted to throw their hat into the ring but did not want it known that they were negotiating with a government that they had openly declared they did not recognise as legitimate.

Some negotiations happened in writing, especially when parties wanted to take out insurance policies so they could show their supporters how astute and persuasive they had been in stating the party’s case.

There was also the opportunity for confidential whispers to test the water. Thereafter, everyone would naturally deny, to the death, that such discussions had ever taken place. Sometimes it was a wish list, or a subtle suggestion of the underlying dilemmas in a party’s own ranks. On other occasions, it was perhaps an indication that taking certain steps or making headway was impossible at the time, but might be considered later.

The fact is that no single blueprint applies to all constitutional negotiations, but they may contain guidelines that, through experience, expertise and initiative, could successfully defuse revolutions.

Talk about Greek! This is more than likely what an outside observer would have thought of the government’s negotiation structures.

The AK11 (Civil Servants’ Committee comprising 11 officials) reported to the Core Group for Negotiation. This core group had replaced the Policy Group for Negotiation and reported to the Policy Group for Reform. The latter in turn referred policy matters to the Extended Cabinet, while off on a side track were the Working Committee for Security and Security-Related Matters and the Security Information Committee, which had their own agendas and gave scant attention to co-­ordination. Over this complex web, the Cabinet, in theory at least, kept an eagle eye.

Initially, the Policy Group for Negotiation was responsible for managing the government’s negotiations. Later, after Codesa 1, it was replaced by the Policy Group for Reform. The Core Group was set up to handle day-to-day management and to keep the Policy Group for Reform informed of all developments, because it was in the latter that policy matters and the way forward were decided. These structures all comprised government officials.

The Policy Group for Negotiation was the government’s strategic planning team; it was here that the real process of constitutional negotiations kicked off. Well-known heavyweights served in this group, including Pik Botha, Gerrit Viljoen, Dawie de Villiers, Kobie Coetsee, Barend du Plessis, George Bartlett, Hernus Kriel, Roelf Meyer and Tertius Delport. Later, Leon Wessels, Sam de Beer, Jac Rabie and others were included from time to time if the agenda called for it.

In its turn, the Policy Group for Reform had to report to the Extended Cabinet, chaired by De Klerk. This gave the president the opportunity to confer with politicians and officials alike. Naturally, the Cabinet had the final say.

To co-ordinate the efforts of the civil service, an officials’ committee – the Civil Servants’ Committee – was set up. This normally comprised two departmental heads from the five state departments that were involved in each of the Codesa working groups. I served as chairman of this committee; together, we were eleven members (hence the name AK11). The committee met as regularly as clockwork. Later, its activities would change drastically.

Two more committees were formed under Coetsee’s leadership: the Working Committee for Security and Security-Related Matters and the Security Information Committee. The designation ‘security and security-related matters’ in the full name of the former was significant – clearly a veiled attempt by Coetsee and the security forces to become directly involved in the negotiations. It remains a mystery why the president allowed Coetsee to build his own empire alongside the existing structures.

Further, dozens of ad hoc committees were formed from time to time. They advised various negotiators and colleagues on a wide range of topics, such as the Interim Constitution; executive transitional councils; the use of traditional weapons during demonstrations; the possibility of including the TBVC states (Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda and Ciskei) in the negotiations; new heraldic symbols for the country; and official language/s.

The government’s management mechanisms for the negotiations arose, in part, from De Klerk’s obsession with keeping officials in their place and maintaining the politicians’ sovereign power. From the officials’ side, however, we always ‘knew our place’; but, we also had enough cynical insight into politicians’ weaknesses not to be intimidated by them.

There may have been very little wrong with the government’s planning structures for its negotiation effort, but the same could not be said of its implementation, decision-making and execution.

Unlike the ANC and other parties, the government had a unique asset at its disposal: an elite corps of officials. The ANC relied largely on foreign bedfellows, influence peddlers and planted ‘state administration experts’ to help it along; a large number of their officials had, apparently, already worked for the ANC as sympathisers, secret supporters or paid lobbyists.

On the whole, however, the state officials were of sterner stuff. In management ranks, many top officials had roots in the culture of the poor white question and had imbibed hard work, loyalty and determination with their mothers’ milk. In many departments, the cream of the younger guard came from recent university graduates, and consisted of enthusiastic officials who were inspired to make the bureaucracy an innovative and powerful mechanism for the country’s administration. Of course, there were also the usual shirkers and, here and there, an obdurate, dyed-­in-the-wool manager who did not meet the demands of modern public management.

Years later, when I was part of the government’s attempt to broker peace between the Israelis and Palestine, I thought back with pride and gratitude on the role that the Civil Servants’ Com­mittee played. Unlike the people of the Middle East, we did not preach about peace while at the same time looking for reasons why the negotiations should be suspended.

We of the Civil Servants’ Committee also stared apparently insurmountable problems in the face, but our approach was different. We tackled our problems head-on, seeking solutions, not excuses. In its contribution to this endeavour, and the guarantee of an orderly negotiation process, the AK11 set a unique and valuable example.

1 FL Schuman, International Politics (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1958), pp. 211–226.