reflection essay on apartheid

Apartheid in South Africa Essay

Introduction.

South Africa is one of the countries with rich and fascinating history in the world. It is regarded as the most developed state in Africa and among the last to have an elected black president towards the end of the 20 th century. Besides its rich history, the South African state has abundant natural resources, fertile farms and a wide range of minerals including gold.

The country is the world’s leading miner of diamonds and gold with several metal ores distributed around the country like platinum (Rosmarin & Rissik, 2004). South Africa experiences a mild climate that resembles that of San Francisco bay.

With its geographical location and development, South Africa is one of the most accessible African countries. All these factors contribute to South Africa’s global prominence, especially before and after the reign of its first black President, Nelson Mandela in 1994.

However, these alone do not add up to what the country’s history. In fact, South Africa’s history sounds incomplete without the mention of Apartheid, a system that significantly shaped and transformed the country in what it is today.

Without apartheid, many argue that South Africa would have probably been a different country with unique ideologies, politics and overall identity. In other words, apartheid greatly affected South Africa in all spheres of a country’s operation. From segregation to all forms of unfairness, apartheid system negatively affected South Africans and the entire country (Pfister, 2005).

On the other hand, some people argue that apartheid positively affected South Africa in countless ways. This essay gives a detailed coverage of the issue of apartheid in South Africa and its impact to the economy, politics and social life of South Africans.

To achieve this task, the analysis is divided into useful sections, which give concise and authentic information concerning the topic. Up to date sources were consulted in researching the topic to ensure that data and information used in describing the concept is up to date, from reputable and recommended authors.

Among important segments of the essay include but not limited to the literature review, history, background information and recommendations.

Research questions

In addressing the issue of Apartheid in South Africa, this essay intends to provide answers to the following questions:

• What was apartheid system?
• What are the factors that led to the apartheid system?
• What were the negative effects of the apartheid system?
• What were the positive effects of the apartheid system?
• Why was it necessary to end apartheid in South Africa?

Literature Review

Apartheid in South Africa is one of the topics which have received massive literature coverage even after the end of the regime. Most of the documented information describes life before 1994 and what transpired after Nelson Mandela took leadership as the first black African President of the state.

This segment, therefore, explores the concept concerning what authors, scholars and researchers have recorded in books, journals and on websites as expounded in the following analytical sections.

Apartheid in South Africa

Apartheid refers to a South African system that propagated racial discrimination imposed between 1948 and 1994 by National Party regimes. During this period of decades, the rights of the majority “blacks” were undermined as white minority settlers maintained their supremacy and rule through suppressive tactics.

Apartheid was primarily developed after the Second World War by the Broederbond and Afrikaner organizations and was extended to other parts of South West Africa, currently known as Namibia until it became an independent state four years before the end of apartheid.

According to Allen 2005, discrimination of black people in South Africa began long before apartheid was born during the colonial era. In his survey, Allen noted that apartheid was ratified after the general election which was held in 1948.

The new legislation that the governments adopted classified all South African inhabitants into four groups based on their racial identity (Allen, 2005). These groups were Asians, whites, natives and colored. This led to all manners of segregation that ensured complete distinction among these groups, achieved through forced displacement of the oppressed groups without necessarily thinking about their rights.

The practice continued throughout the period, reaching heightened moments when non-whites were deprived of political representation in 1970, the year when blacks were denied citizenship right causing them to become members of Bantustans who belonged to self-governing homes (Allen, 2005).

Besides residential removal and displacement, other forms of discrimination dominated in public institutions like education centers, hospitals and beaches among other places which were legally meant for everybody regardless of their skin color, gender or country of origin.

In rare cases where black accessed these services, they were provided with inferior options as compared to what whites received (Allen, 2005). As a result, there was significant violence witnessed across the country, accompanied by internal resistance from people who believed that they were being exploited and languishing in poverty at the expense of white minorities.

Consequently, the country suffered trade embargoes as other countries around the world distanced themselves from South African rule as a way of condemning it and raising their voices in support for those who were considered less human in their own country.

Overwhelmed by the desire for equality, South Africa witnessed countless uprisings and revolts, which were welcomed with imprisoning of political and human rights activists who were strongly opposed to the apartheid rule.

Banning of opposition politics was also adopted in order to suppress leaders who believed in justice for humanity (Edwards & Hecht, 2010). As violence escalated around the country, several state organizations responded by sponsoring violence and increasing the intensity of oppression.

The peak of apartheid opposition was in 1980s when attempts to amend apartheid legislation failed to calm black people forcing President Frederik Willem de Klerk to enter into negotiations with black leaders to end apartheid in 1990.

The culmination of the negotiations was in 1994 when a multi-racial and democratic election was held with Nelson Mandela of African National Congress emerging the winner and the first black president in South Africa (Edwards & Hecht, 2010). Although apartheid ended more than a decade ago, it is important to note its impact and ruins are still evident in South Africa.

Background Information

Segregation took shape in the Union of South Africa in order to suppress the black people’s participation in politics and economic life. White rulers believed that the only way of maintaining their rule was to ensure that black people do not have opportunities to organize themselves into groups that would augment their ability to systematize themselves and fight back for their rights.

However, despite these efforts, black people in South Africa became integrated into the economic and industrial society than any other group of people in Africa during the 20 th century (Edwards & Hecht, 2010).

Clerics, educations and other professionals grew up to be key players as the influence of blacks sprouted with Mission Christianity significantly influencing the political landscape of the union. Studying in abroad also played a major role as blacks gained the momentum to fight for their rights as the move received support from other parts of the world (Burger, 2011).

There were continuous attempts from the government to control and manipulate black people through skewed policies, which were aimed at benefiting whites at the expense of the majority. The year 1902 saw the formation of the first political organization by Dr Abdurrahman which was mainly based in Cape Province.

However, the formation of the African National Congress in 1912 was a milestone as it brought together traditional authorities, educationists and Christian leaders (Burger, 2011). Its initial concern was defined by constitutional protests as its leaders demanded recognition and representation of the blacks.

Efforts by union workers to form organizations for the purpose of voicing their concerns were short-lived as their efforts were short down by white authorities. This led to strikes and militancy, which was experienced throughout 1920s. The formation of the Communist Party proved to be a force to last as it united workers’ organizations and non-racialism individuals (Beinart & Dubow, 1995).

Segregation of blacks was also witnessed in job regulations as skilled job opportunities remained reserved for white people. The introduction of pass-laws further aimed at restricting African mobility thus limiting their chances of getting organized.

These laws were also designed to have all blacks participate in forced labor as they did not have a clear channel to air their views. According to historic findings, all these efforts were inclined towards laying the foundation for apartheid in later years.

Noteworthy, there were divisions among whites as they differed with regard to certain ideologies and stances. For instance, they could not agree on their involvement in First World War I as the National Party dislodged from the South African Party (Beinart & Dubow, 1995). Conversely, allocation of skilled jobs to whites targeted high productivity from people who had experience while pass-laws prevented aimless movement.

Labor issues continued to emerge through organized strikes though these efforts were constantly thwarted by the government using brutal and inhumane ways like seclusion of migrant residential houses using compounds.

Miners also protested against low payment and poor living standards, conditions which promoted hostility between black and white labor forces, culminating into a bloody rebellion in 1922 (Beinart & Dubow, 1995).

Intensified discrimination against blacks mounted to serve the interests of white rulers through reinforcement of the unfair government policies and employment bar in certain areas like the railway and postal service to address the infamous “poor-white problem”.

The world depression of early 1930s led to the union of major white parties which was closely followed by the breakaway by a new Afrikaner led by Dr. DF Malan. The entrenchment of the white domination led to the elimination of Africans from the voters’ role in 1936 (Burger, 2011).

These continued up to the end of the Second World War when the government intensified segregation rules in 1948 that led to the conception and birth of Apartheid in South Africa.

Desmond Tutu against Apartheid

As mentioned above, Mission Christianity played a major role in the fight against apartheid and restoration of justice in South Africa. This saw several leaders rise to the limelight as they emerged to be the voice of the voiceless in the South African State.

One of these Christian leaders was Archbishop Desmond Tutu who has remained in the history of South Africa, featuring prominently in the reign of apartheid (BBC, 2010). He is well known worldwide for his anti-apartheid role and for boldly speaking for the blacks.

He served a very important role, especially during the entire time when Nelson Mandela was serving his prison term making him nominated for the highly coveted and prestigious Nobel Peace Prize award in 1984 for his relentless anti-apartheid efforts.

This was a real implication that the world had not only observed Tutu’s efforts but also raised its voice against the discriminatory rule in South Africa.

After Nelson Mandela was elected democratically in 1984, he appointed Archbishop Desmond Tutu to steer the South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission which was mandated to investigate all forms of crimes committed by blacks and whites during the whole period of apartheid.

Although Tutu was a teacher by training, he dropped the career after the adoption of the Bantu Education Act in 1953 (BBC, 2010). The act was meant to extend apartheid to black schools around the country, causing several schools to close down due to lack of finances after the government discontinued subsidized programs for those that did not comply.

To confirm and affirm that apartheid was not the best regime option in South Africa, Desmond Tutu was highly influenced by white clergymen like Bishop Trevor Huddleston, who strongly opposed the idea of racial discrimination that was being propagated by the white government (BBC, 2010).

Although he was closely involved in active politics, he remained focused on religious motivation, arguing that racialism was not the will of God, and that it was not to live forever. His appointment as the head of the Anglican church in 1986 did not deter him from fighting apartheid as he risked being jailed after he called the public to boycott municipal elections that were held in 1988.

He welcomed President FW De Klerk’s reforms in 1989, which included the release of the one who was later to become the first black president of South Africa, Nelson Mandela and the reinstatement of the African National Congress (BBC, 2010).

Nelson Mandela against Apartheid

Nelson Mandela is regarded as a key player in the fight against apartheid in South Africa as he led black people together with other activists to publicly denounce and condemn the discriminatory regimes of the time. As a way of demonstrating his dissatisfaction and criticism of apartheid, Mandela publicly burnt his “pass”.

All blacks were required to carry their passes as the government prohibited the movement of people to other districts (Atlas College, 2011). While working with ANC, Mandela’s involvement in anti-apartheid efforts was increased as he realized the need to have active resistance in dealing with apartheid.

He was severally charged with treason and acquitted although in 1964, Mandela was life imprisoned a move that was considered to be ill-motivated to maintain the white rule supremacy. He continued his fight while in prison as his message penetrated every village and district in the country.

Although he acted together with like-minded people, Nelson Mandela’s name stands high as the leader of the anti-apartheid campaign which culminated in his election as the first black president of South Africa in 1994 (Atlas College, 2011).

Opposing opinion

Although apartheid was highly condemned and still receives high-charged criticism, some people view it from a different perspective. Did apartheid have any benefit to the people of South Africa and to the nation at large?

Apart from propagating injustices across the country, apartheid is one of the economic drivers of South Africa with some of the policies and strategies used during that time still under active implementation by the government.

For instance, the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) was orchestrated by ANC and served as the core platform during the elections that were held in 1994 (Lundahl & Petersson, 2009). The programme focused on improvement of infrastructure, improvement of housing facilities, free schooling, sharing of land to the landless, clean water and affordable health facilities among others.

This led to the improvement of social amenities in the country. RDP also continued financing the budget revenue. It therefore suffices to mention that those who support apartheid base their argument on the status of the country after 1994 when subsequent governments chose to adopt some strategies from apartheid to drive the reconstruction agenda (Lundahl & Petersson, 2009).

As one of the leading economies in Africa, some of the institutions, factories and companies which were established during apartheid significantly contribute to development in the country. Even though new plans have been adopted, majority have their foundations rocked on apartheid.

As a result of these development initiatives, a lot has changed in South Africa. There has been substantive economic growth augmented by several factors which relate to apartheid (Lundahl & Petersson, 2009). Improved living standards among South Africans cannot also be ignored in any discussion of apartheid.

Many jobs have been created for the skilled people who never found an opportunity to work when the regime was at its operational peak. South Africa also prides on some of the most prestigious learning institutions in the region which are highly ranked on the world list. It therefore suffices to mention that apartheid had several advantages which cannot be overshadowed by its disadvantages.

Against Apartheid

Despite the advantages of apartheid discussed above, there is no doubt that the system negatively impacted South Africans in a myriad of ways. From undermining of human rights to promotion of hostility and violence among residents, there is enough evidence to condemn the regime. It affected several social structures people were not allowed to freely intermarry and interact.

This was coupled with limited expression rights as they were believed not to have rights. Movement was highly restricted as black people were to walk with passes and restricted to move within one district. Additionally, forceful evacuation was a norm as black people never owned land and houses permanently (Burger, 2011). What about employment?

Many skilled jobs were strictly reserved for whites as black people survived on manual duties with little or no pay. This contributed to low living standards and inability to meet their needs, manifested through labor strikes which were continuously witnessed in several organizations.

Consequently, violence escalated with police brutality hitting high levels and several people losing their lives as others spent the rest of their lives in jail. It was a system that needed more condemnation than just protesting in order to allow justice to prevail (Pfister, 2005).

Apartheid in South Africa is one of the most outstanding in the history of the country with millions of people with painful and remarkable memories.

With its culmination in 1994 democratic elections which saw Nelson Mandela rise to power, the regime had severe negative effects, which necessitated the need to end it and pave the way for a fair nation that respects humanity regardless of skin color, ethnicity, country of origin and gender (Pfister, 2005).

Based on the above analysis, it is important for a number of lessons to be learnt from it. World leaders need to establish and implement leadership mechanisms that would prevent recurrence of apartheid in South Africa or in other parts of the world.

To the millions who suffered under rule, reconciliation efforts are essential in allowing them to accept themselves and move on with life as they mingle with thousands of white settlers who continue owning parcels of land in the country. It should however to be forgotten that apartheid was important in transforming South Africa into what it is today. From factories and infrastructure to a stable economy, it had lifetime merits that ought to be acknowledged throughout in history.

Allen, J. (2005). Apartheid South Africa: An Insider’s Overview of the Origin and Effects of Separate Development . Bloomington, Indiana: iUniverse.

Atlas College. (2011). Nelson Mandela and Apartheid. Atlas College . Web.

BBC. (2010). Profile: Archbishop Desmond Tutu . BBC News . Web.

Beinart, W., & Dubow, S. (1995). Segregation and apartheid in twentieth-century South Africa . London: Routledge.

Burger, D. (2011). History. South African Government Information . Web.

Edwards, P., & Hecht, G. (2010). History and the Techno politics of Identity: The Case of Apartheid South Africa. Journal of Southern African Studies, 36 (3), p. 619-639.

Lundahl, M., & Petersson, L. (2009). Post-Apartheid South Africa; an Economic Success Story? United Nations University . Web.

Pfister, R. (2005). Apartheid South Africa and African states: from pariah to middle power, 1961-1994 . London: I.B.Tauris.

Rosmarin, I., & Rissik, D. (2004). South Africa. Singapore: Marshall Cavendish.

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IvyPanda. (2019, March 27). Apartheid in South Africa. https://ivypanda.com/essays/apartheid-in-south-africa/

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IvyPanda . 2019. "Apartheid in South Africa." March 27, 2019. https://ivypanda.com/essays/apartheid-in-south-africa/.

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Bibliography

IvyPanda . "Apartheid in South Africa." March 27, 2019. https://ivypanda.com/essays/apartheid-in-south-africa/.

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Apartheid South Africa 1940s to 1960s Essay for Grade 11

On this page, we guide grade 11 student on how to write “Apartheid South Africa 1940s to 1960s Essay”.

Apartheid in South Africa was a system of institutionalised racial segregation and discrimination that existed from the late 1940s until the early 1990s. This period in South African history is marked by the enforcement of legal policies and practices aimed at separating the races and maintaining white dominance in all aspects of life. The years between the 1940s and the 1960s were critical in laying the foundations and entrenching the policies that would define this era. This essay will explore the implementation of apartheid laws , resistance movements , and international reactions to apartheid from the 1940s to the 1960s.

Implementation of Apartheid Laws

The formal introduction of apartheid can be traced back to the National Party’s victory in the 1948 elections . The party, which represented the Afrikaner nationalist interest, institutionalised apartheid as a means of securing white dominance. Key legislation enacted during this period included:

• The Population Registration Act (1950): This act classified all South Africans into racial groups – ‘white’, ‘black’, ‘coloured’, and ‘Indian’. This classification was a prerequisite for the implementation of other apartheid laws.
• The Group Areas Act (1950): This law geographically segregated South Africans by race , determining where different racial groups could live, work, and own property.
• The Suppression of Communism Act (1950): Though ostensibly aimed at combating communism , this act was frequently used to silence critics of apartheid, including non-communists.

Resistance Movements

Resistance against apartheid came from various quarters, including political parties, trade unions, and individual activists. The most prominent of these movements included:

• The African National Congress (ANC): Initially adopting a policy of peaceful protest, the ANC organised strikes, boycotts, and civil disobedience campaigns. Following the Sharpeville Massacre in 1960, the ANC shifted to a strategy of armed struggle .
• The Pan Africanist Congress (PAC): A breakaway from the ANC, the PAC also played a significant role in organising protests against apartheid, notably the anti-Pass Laws protest that led to the Sharpeville Massacre.
• Sharpeville Massacre (1960): A turning point in the resistance against apartheid, where a peaceful protest against pass laws in Sharpeville turned deadly, with police opening fire on demonstrators, resulting in 69 deaths.

International Reactions to Apartheid

The international community’s response to apartheid was initially muted, but as the realities of apartheid became more widely known, international condemnation grew. Significant aspects of the international reaction included:

• United Nations Condemnation: The UN General Assembly adopted a resolution in 1962 calling for sanctions against South Africa, urging member states to cease military and economic relations with the apartheid regime.
• Isolation in Sports: South Africa was banned from the Olympic Games and other international sporting events, highlighting the growing international isolation of the apartheid government.

Student Guide

When writing an essay on Apartheid in South Africa from the 1940s to the 1960s, focusing on clarity, depth, and evidence-based arguments is crucial. Here are some useful tips to enhance your essay writing:

• Start with a Strong Thesis Statement:
• Clearly state your essay’s main argument or analysis point at the end of your introduction. This sets the direction and tone of your essay. For example, “This essay argues that the apartheid laws enacted between the 1940s and 1960s not only institutionalised racial segregation but also laid the foundation for the resistance movements that eventually led to apartheid’s downfall.”
• Organise Your Essay Logically:
• Use subheadings to divide your essay into manageable sections, such as the implementation of apartheid laws, resistance movements, and international reactions. This helps readers follow your argument more easily.
• Use Evidence to Support Your Points:
• Incorporate specific examples and quotes from primary and secondary sources to back up your statements. For instance, reference the Population Registration Act when discussing racial classification or cite international condemnation from United Nations resolutions.
• Analyse, Don’t Just Describe:
• Go beyond simply describing events by analysing their impact and significance . For example, when discussing the Sharpeville Massacre, explore its effect on both the apartheid government’s policies and the tactics of resistance movements.
• Acknowledge Different Perspectives:
• While focusing on the factual history of apartheid, also acknowledge the various perspectives on apartheid policies and resistance efforts, including those of the government, opposition movements, and international bodies.
• Conclude Effectively:
• Summarise the main points of your essay and reiterate your thesis in the context of the information discussed. Offer a concluding thought that encourages further reflection, such as the legacy of apartheid in contemporary South Africa.
• Reference Accurately:
• Ensure all sources are accurately cited in your essay to avoid plagiarism and to lend credibility to your arguments. Follow the specific referencing style required by your teacher or educational institution.
• Proofread and Revise:
• Check your essay for spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors. Also, ensure that your argument flows logically and that each section supports your thesis statement.
• Seek Feedback:
• Before final submission, consider getting feedback from teachers, peers, or tutors. Fresh eyes can offer valuable insights and identify areas for improvement.

By incorporating these tips, you can create a well-argued, informative, and engaging essay on Apartheid in South Africa that meets the expectations of a Grade 11 history assignment.

The period from the 1940s to the 1960s was pivotal in the establishment and consolidation of the apartheid system in South Africa. Through the enactment of draconian laws, the apartheid government institutionalised racial discrimination, which led to widespread resistance within the country and condemnation from the international community. This era laid the groundwork for the struggles and transformations that would eventually lead to the end of apartheid.

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Uncovering Apartheid: The Conclusion

Disclaimer: The following blog post is not a reflection of the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s opinion on the below topics.

Content Warning: This blog post contains an image of a mortally wounded child. 

By  Ian Cata

This article is the third of a three-part series that dives deep into the nearly five decades of Apartheid in South Africa and the movements of non-violence that impacted it. If you have not already read the first two articles, I suggest exiting this article and doing so as it will provide additional context and clarity.

Steve Biko and the Black Consciousness Movement

As the 1960s were coming to an end, the anti-apartheid movement was in bad shape. After the events of Sharpeville, the leading resistance groups, the ANC and PAC, decided to create paramilitary wings to physically fight against the government. This decision was ultimately disastrous as it led to the arrest of several leaders of the movement such as Nelson Mandela and led the government to effectively ban the ANC and PAC altogether. [1] The anti-apartheid movement was in desperate need of a new direction and a new leader. Enter Steve Biko, a university student who saw that anti-apartheid organizations were dominated by white students. Biko sought to form a new group outside of the conventional organizations. In 1969, he founded the South African Students Organization (SASO), a group that sought to welcome all students classified as non-white by the South African government. Within SASO, Biko coined a new concept, “Black consciousness”, which he defined as an awakening of self-worth in Black populations. Biko and other leaders of the movement sought to encourage members of the Black community to no longer view their race as an obstacle or burden but as a positive unifying trait. Biko and the Black Consciousness Movement (BCM) soon spread to universities across South Africa. In 1972, the Black People’s Convention (BPC) was launched with the goal of spreading the BCM to workers’ unions. Over the next few years, the BCM spread even further and Steve Biko was cemented as the new face of the anti-apartheid movement. [2]

The Soweto Uprising

In 1975, the South African government decreed that African schools must begin teaching classes in Afrikaans. Influenced by the BCM and SASO3, students began mobilizing in protest as many were taught subjects in English and saw Afrikaans as the language of the oppressor. [3][4] On June 16th, 1976, in Soweto, over 20,000 students, consisting mostly of children and teenagers, marched peacefully down the street, protesting against the government. [5] They were soon met with heavily armed police officers who began firing tear gas and live munitions into the crowd. [6] As students fled in every direction, photographer Sam Nzima saw a teenager running for help carrying a young boy in his arms, he quickly snapped a picture. The boy was Hector Pieterson, the youngest killed at 13 years old. [7] At the end of the day, the official tally was 23 dead, most were shot in the back and younger than 23. [8] The public responded with rage and fury as riots ravaged the nation for ten days with a final tally of 176 dead, and thousands injured. [9] Unrest continued throughout the year and by the end of the year, police had killed over 450 people. [10] The image Sam Nzima took on that first day was soon splashed across front pages across the globe. The world could no longer turn a blind eye to Apartheid. Activists across the world began to lobby for instituting economic sanctions on South Africa. [11]

The Beginning of the End

The South African government responded to the uprising by arresting and killing BCM leaders who they believed were responsible for the uprising. On August 17, 1977, Steve Biko was arrested and for the next 25 days was tortured by police until he passed away on September 12th from a brain hemorrhage. [13] His death drew further protests and global attention. His funeral was attended by over 15,000 people including the American ambassador as well as other diplomats. The South African government responded by banning open-air gatherings, arresting members of BCM-adjacent organizations, banning 18 different organizations, and instituting further restrictions on newspapers requiring they follow a strict code of conduct. [14] On November 4th, 1977, the United Nations Security Council unanimously adopted a resolution that instituted a mandatory embargo on South Africa. [15] Isolated by the international community and economically flailing, the South African government needed to make some changes.

Cosmetic Reforms

In the 1980s, Prime Minister and then Executive President, P.W. Botha instituted a series of reforms aimed at breaking up the anti-apartheid movement through small concessions. [16] They included legalizing interracial relations, allowing a small number of Blacks into the middle class, and creating a new tri-cameral system where Indians and other minorities had limited representation, excluding Blacks. [17] The Botha Reforms as they soon were called, were seen as largely cosmetic by the populace as the Black population continued to be oppressed. The shallow reforms did not convince the international community either, the mandatory embargo continued and was strengthened to close up any loopholes. [18] In response to the Botha reforms, over 500 community groups merged to form the United Democratic Front. [19] They began a campaign of protests, boycotts, and strikes, and in 1985 conducted a boycott of white-owned businesses in Port Elizabeth. The boycott was so effective that the government instituted a state of emergency and began a three-year campaign of oppression on Black communities, patrolling neighborhoods in armed cars beating, detaining, and killing thousands. [20] However, the government’s attempts at halting the apartheid resistance did little to deter the movement. In 1988, a three-day strike of over three million Black workers and students economically paralyzed the nation. [21][22]

Return of The Defiance

In 1989, the South African government had completely isolated itself and was experiencing severe economic troubles as well as constant unrest. The government had completely exhausted its resources attempting to oppress the majority Black population and yet they refused to submit, it soon became clear that Apartheid had failed. The resistance effectively ended in 1989 with multiracial peace marches held across the country. White business leaders as well as the mayor of Cape Town joined in on the movement as well. [23]

The End of Apartheid

Recently elected F.W. de Klerk saw that for South Africa to move forward as a nation, Apartheid must end. In his opening speech to parliament in February 1990, he announced the lifting of the ban on the ANC and other Black liberation parties, the return of freedom of speech, and the release of all political prisoners. [24] After 27 years, Nelson Mandela walked out of prison on February 11th, 1990. de Klerk spent his term rolling back Apartheid laws, repairing relations with the rest of the world, and instituting true democratic elections where everyone is represented. In 1994, the first openly democratic elections were held, the once-banned ANC won a majority of seats in the parliament and Nelson Mandela was elected president. [25]

The ultimate end of Apartheid one could argue was nothing more than an inevitability. The Soviet Union was collapsing, colonization was over, and globalization was increasing; one could say that with all of these factors in mind de Klerk had no choice but to end Apartheid. I would vehemently deny this argument, yes all of the above served as factors in the ending of Apartheid, but there would never have been an end if it weren’t for the brave men, women, and children who refused to be treated less than the human beings they are. Over 50 years, time and time again when beaten down by the government, military, and police they kept getting back up and not with hate in their hearts but hope and faith in a better future. The Apartheid and the long battle against it serve as an important case study of how responding to violent regimes with nonviolent tactics works.

[1] “ RESISTANCE TO APARTHEID ,” Apartheid Museum .

[2] Roland Martin, “ Black Consciousness Movement (BCM) | Steve Biko, Anti-Apartheid, Aims, & Impact ,” Britannica , 2023.

[3] “ The June 16 Soweto Youth Uprising ,” South African History Online , 2013.

[4] Aryn Baker, “ Soweto Uprising: How a Photo Helped End Apartheid ,” Time , 2016.

[6] Mary Alexander, “ The 16 June 1976 Soweto students’ uprising – as it happened ,” South Africa Gateway , 2022.

[7] Baker, “ Soweto Uprising .”

[8] Alexander, “ The 16 June 1976 Soweto students’ uprising .”

[9] “ The Soweto Uprising leaves 174 blacks and two whites dead following 10 days of rioting ,” South African History Online , 2012.

[10] Alexander, “ The 16 June 1976 Soweto students’ uprising .”

[11] Baker, “ Soweto Uprising .”

[12] Sam Nzima. June 16, 1976.

[13] “ Black Consciousness Movement (BCM) ,” South African History Online, 2011.

[14] Ibid .

[15] United Nations Security Council Resolution 418.

[16] “ South Africa – Apartheid, Democracy, Equality ,” Britannica .

[17] “ Apartheid – The early 1980s ,” South African History Online , 2019.

[18] “ The United Nations in South Africa ,” United Nations in South Africa .

[19] “ Apartheid – The early 1980s .”

[20] Lester Kurtz, “ The Anti-Apartheid Struggle in South Africa (1912-1992) | ICNC ,” International Center on Nonviolent Conflict , 2010.

[21] Ibid .

[22] John D Battersby, “ WIDE DISRUPTION IN SOUTH AFRICA STRIKE ,” The New York Times , 1988.

[23] Kurtz, “ The Anti-Apartheid Struggle in South Africa (1912-1992) .”

[24] “ Milestones: 1989–1992 – Office of the Historian ,” Office Of The Historian .

[25] Ibid .

[26] “ (1994) Nelson Mandela’s Inaugural Address as President of South Africa ,” Blackpast , 2009.

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Women and apartheid.

• Meghan Healy-Clancy Meghan Healy-Clancy Department of History, Bridgewater State University
• https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277734.013.184
• Published online: 28 June 2017

Apartheid, the system of racial and ethnic separation introduced in South Africa in 1948, was a gendered project. The immediate goal of the white Afrikaner men who led the apartheid state was to control black men: to turn black men from perceived political and criminal threats into compliant workers. Under apartheid, African men would travel to work for whites in towns and on mines, but their homes would be in rural ethnic “reserves,” known as “homelands” or “Bantustans.” This vision depended on the labors of African women: while their men migrated to work, women were to maintain their families in the increasingly overcrowded and desolate countryside, reproducing the workforce cheaply while instilling a sense of ethnic difference in their children. “Coloured” (mixed-race) and Indian women were similarly charged with social reproduction on a shoestring, in segregated rural and urban areas. White women uniquely had the franchise and freedom of movement, but they were also constrained by sexually repressive laws.

Apartheid’s gendered vision of production and social reproduction faced continual resistance, and it ultimately failed. First, it failed because African women increasingly moved from rural areas to urban centers, despite laws limiting their mobility. Second, it failed because some women organized across ethnic and racial lines. They often organized as mothers, demanding a better world for a new generation. Both their nationally and internationally resonant campaigns—against pass laws, educational and health care inequities, police brutality, and military conscription—and the fact of their collective organization gradually undermined apartheid. Officials generally underestimated the power of women, and their contributions have continued to be under-appreciated since apartheid ended in 1994, because women’s political style emphasized personal and familial concerns. But because apartheid was premised on transforming how families lived, actions of women in fact undermined the system from its core.

• South Africa

State interventions into the formation and lives of families were central to apartheid: the legal regime of racial and ethnic division that ruled South Africa between the election of Daniel Malan in 1948 and the election of Nelson Mandela in 1994 , with legacies enduring through the present. From the regime’s inception under the leadership of Dutch Reformed Church (DRC) minister Malan, ideas of racial purity, sexual restraint, and patriarchy were intertwined. Apartheid’s immediate goal was to control black men—turning them from political threats into compliant workers, to ensure South Africa’s development into an industrialized state in which whites would enjoy growing wealth and political hegemony. But apartheid could only work by also controlling women. Apartheid leaders were concerned with black women (a category that includes women classified as African, Indian, or “Coloured”), as well as with white women (both Afrikaners like apartheid leaders, and women from British and other European backgrounds). Officials saw women as central to creating properly ethnicized and racialized subjects, who would fill their prescribed niches in an economy and polity controlled by white men.

Black women undermined the visions of apartheid from its onset. First, many black women refused to be held in place. African women were supposed to remain confined to rural ethnic “reserves” (known as “homelands” or “Bantustans”), cheaply raising compliant workers and ethnic subjects there while their husbands labored for low wages for whites in towns and on the mines. But from apartheid’s start, women increasingly went to town. African women who stayed on the reserves did not all submit quietly to apartheid’s demands, either. Rural women’s organized resistance—in both political organizations and religious groups—was formidable, attracting both state oppression and gradual reforms. As key urban women activists were forced to the countryside in line with apartheid’s strategies of banning activists, the liveliness of rural resistance only grew.

Across South Africa, across lines of race and class, activist women came together to resist apartheid. While they also worked with men, women particularly organized as mothers—a fitting riposte to a regime rooted in restructuring families. Even as their campaigns attracted national and international support, apartheid officials underestimated their impact, generally seeing women as less threatening political actors than men. Since apartheid ended in 1994 , women’s contributions to the regime’s collapse have continued to attract less popular and scholarly attention than men’s contributions. Yet controlling personal lives and transforming families were core objectives of apartheid policies. Through both individual and collective action, the gendered life choices of many diverse women therefore undermined apartheid from within.

Male-Led Nationalist Movements and the Roots of Apartheid

In May 1948 , the National Party (NP) won the South African general election, inaugurating the era of apartheid: “apartness” in Afrikaans, the Dutch-derived language of the NP’s Afrikaner leaders. The National Party heightened the segregationist policies that had ruled the Union of South Africa since its 1910 formation as a British dominion, ruled by an alliance of British and Afrikaner men. Apartheid added an ideological emphasis on the development of Afrikaners and South Africa’s other ethnic groups, each as a separate volk (people) with distinct racial destinies. 1 Very few black men, and no black women, had the franchise in 1948 . Whites, who then made up about a quarter of South Africa’s population, therefore determined this election: they included both men and women, as white women had the franchise since 1930 , as part of a state strategy to diminish the influence of the small number of black men with the vote. 2

Women as well as men generated the ideas that animated Afrikaner nationalism. They highlighted the historical role of Afrikaners—mostly descendants of 17th-century Dutch settlers in the Cape—in bringing Christianity and European civilization to southern Africa. They mourned Afrikaners’ history of oppression on the frontiers of a growing British Empire, particularly Britain’s brutal treatment of women and children in the South African War a half century before. They called for the urgent uplift of poor Afrikaners, to advance their “race”—against the threat posed by the British-descended South Africans who had for the past century and a half exercised influence in politics and the economy on one hand, and against the increasing threats from politically assertive black South Africans on the other. 3

The black South Africans who so alarmed Afrikaner nationalists included men and women in the African National Congress (ANC) and similar organizations advocating rights for indigenous Africans, as well as other black people known as “Coloureds” (mixed-race) and Indians (descended from the indentured workers and immigrants who came to Natal from the 19th century ). Women played key ideological roles in these groups, stressing their history of protecting their families against the depravities of colonialism and calling for black people to end white domination. But women also struggled against dismissal of their voices by the activist men who led these groups. Women, both black and white, similarly asserted themselves in the male-led Communist Party (CP), which increasingly supported movements for racial equality in South Africa from the mid-1920s through its banning in 1950 . 4

It was important to the formation of apartheid policies that, despite the role of women at the grassroots of both Afrikaner and black movements, the leaders of the NP and its rivals in 1948 were all men. 5 The specter of black men unwilling to submit to white authority, and the inability of the ruling United Party (UP) to make them submit, loomed large in the NP’s 1948 campaign. While the NP achieved its narrow victory with strong support from rural whites, it appealed to white fears of black men in cities. In South Africa, as across the continent in the wake of the Second World War, urban black men were at the helm of organizations that launched boycotts and strikes demanding their rights against white male leaders. The NP particularly feared the potential of activists to spread communism, destroying what they saw as Afrikaner Christian civilization. 6 The NP’s solution was to develop a “white man’s country,” headed by Afrikaner patriarchs. 7

Legislating Sex and Family: The Foundations of Apartheid

Foundational pieces of apartheid legislation tellingly targeted love and sex—demonstrating how control over sex was critical to the production and maintenance of racial difference. 8 In 1949 , the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act barred marriage between “Europeans” (white South Africans, including Afrikaners, British, and other immigrants from Europe) and “non-Europeans” (African, Coloured, and Indian South Africans). 9 It was followed by the Immorality Amendment Act of 1950 , which prohibited sex between whites and all blacks. This extended the 1927 Immorality Act, which had already restricted sex outside of marriage between whites and Africans: the word “native” in the original act was replaced by the more encompassing “non-European” here. 10 These broadening and hardening restrictions on intimacy revealed officials’ sense that “European civilization” in southern Africa was under siege, and the first place to shore it up was the family home. Interracial sex and marriage would remain illegal until 1985 . 11

Controlling intimacy entailed categorizing people. In the Immorality Amendment Act, the terms “European” and “non-European” were defined culturally: “‘European’ means a person who in appearance obviously is, or who by general acceptance and repute is a European,” and vice versa. 12 Soon after, the Population Registration Act of 1950 established a national register, to categorize each South African more bindingly by race and ethnicity. 13 The accompanying Group Areas Act established the country’s firm segregation along racial and ethnic lines, with specific “groups” restricted to specific regions and neighborhoods; black married women’s ethnicity followed that of their husbands. 14 This legislation displaced black families from their homes and communities, as mixed neighborhoods such as Johannesburg’s Sophiatown and Cape Town’s District Six were declared “white areas.” Ultimately, some 3.5 million black South Africans would be forced to move under apartheid. 15 Families could also be separated when the race of their children fell into doubt. 16

The apartheid state’s struggle for control over racial reproduction manifested in family-planning policies that urged white women to have children while encouraging black women to limit family size. Puritanical, DRC-influenced ideas of women’s chastity discouraged the pursuit of sexual pleasure and agency for all women. While abortion was illegal for all South African women, spectacular court cases concerned white rather than black women. Intrusive policies, supported by many employers and the state, required black women to have contraceptive injections to keep their jobs; doctors employed sterilization far more readily for black women than for whites throughout the apartheid years. Black women’s primary modes of employment—domestic service, farm labor, factory work, teaching, nursing, and clerical work—were not conductive to pregnancy, forcing many mothers to send their children to live with distant relatives. Due to black men’s low wages, black women were much more likely to need to work than white women, connecting reproductive rights to labor issues. 17

Gendered labor policies were at the heart of apartheid, in intersection with marriage and housing policies. To secure the labor of black men while limiting their presence in towns and cities declared to be predominantly white areas, an existing system of male migrant labor was further entrenched. This system had emerged with the development of diamond and gold mining over the latter half of the 19th century : labor recruiters, chiefs, and rural African families sent young men to work in distant towns, while African women were to support rural families, leading to growing domestic tensions. 18 From 1952 , African men aged sixteen or older legally had to carry identity documents called passes with them, to justify their presence outside of the rural ethnic “reserves” to which officials consigned Africans. 19 As the land in these reserves was insufficient in size and quality, men needed to work in urban areas to support themselves and their families, and to pay taxes. They could generally only reside in urban areas as long as their passes attested to employment by whites, staying in hostels intended for temporary sojourns in segregated areas called “townships.” Exceptions were those who had been born in the urban area where they lived, who had lived in that area legally for fifteen years, or who had worked for the same employer in that area for a decade: such men and their dependents had “Section Ten” rights to live in urban townships as a family, as long as they were not deemed “idle” or “undesirable.” 20 Most urban housing was deliberately unwelcoming to families, who were supposed to remain in the countryside, eking out a living by women’s farming, to supplement the low wages received by migrant men. 21

In rural areas filled increasingly with African women and children, the authority of male chiefs—both hereditary and appointed—reigned supreme. The Bantu Authorities Act of 1951 entrenched chiefly authority to administer “customary law,” a patriarchal system under which African women remained legal minors throughout their lives. Legal minor status meant that African women could not enter into contracts or own homes or other property in their own right; children legally belonged to their fathers or male kin. Customary law collapsed and distorted diverse precolonial African legal systems in which women had generally held more authority, especially as they aged. 22 The distorted power of “traditional” chiefs deepened in the 1960s. The Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act of 1959 provided the legal basis for the “gradual development of self-governing Bantu national units” out of the ethnic reserves to which Africans were consigned. 23 Ten rural ethnic reserves formed: officials called them “homelands” or “Bantustans,” and in 1970 , the Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act declared Africans “citizens” of their homelands, not of South Africa. 24 Reforms in the 1980s allowed for African women’s growing emancipation from customary law: for instance, in 1981 the KwaZulu Bantustan introduced reforms so that adult women, married or unmarried, could legally own property and make other legal decisions, following popular pressure. 25 But African women continued to struggle against chiefly authority that privileged men.

As wives, women were generally subject to their husband’s authority. This was true not only for African women, but also for other black and white women; unless they secured a prenuptial contract, the default through most of apartheid was that even privileged white women lost power to make legal decisions upon marriage. 26 As mothers, however, women were charged with the critical responsibility of raising a new generation of workers and ethnic patriots. For Africans, this new generation was supposed to see their political futures not in “white South Africa” but in their rural ethnic reserves. African mothers were to send their children to new state schools, in an ethnically differentiated system called Bantu Education, while Indian, Coloured, and white women were to send their children to distinct schools. 27

At the crux of apartheid production and social reproduction therefore stood women, whom officials intended to be compliant wives and mothers in a segregated society. But increasing numbers of women refused to stand in their imposed places.

Black Women’s Urban Mobility Challenges Apartheid

Black women had lived in towns and cities long before apartheid, attracted to urban life both by a desire to escape rural familial tensions and by economic necessity. African access to land had been severely restricted since the Natives Land Act of 1913 , with clearly declining land productivity by the 1920s, and the rural reserves grew more stressed with apartheid’s forced relocations. Women’s options for formal urban employment were limited, with most consigned to domestic service. But women had long been developing a vibrant informal urban sector: they brewed and sold beer and other foods to male migrant workers and operated bars called “shebeens,” among other jobs. By the early 1950s, more than a fifth of African women were urban, and many of these women lived in ethnically mixed neighborhoods. 28

While black women’s urbanity concerned officials before apartheid—especially when they worked as prostitutes—officials had never been sure what to do about it. African men in major cities had been required to carry individual passes before apartheid, although laws varied by municipality. 29 But officials had rarely imposed individual passes on women. This was, first, because attempts to do so had engendered resistance, as seen in Bloemfontein in 1913 , when hundreds marched against pass laws for black women. 30 At a deeper level, officials expected African women to be governed through their men. When laws referred to “natives,” they usually meant African men; African women were seldom singled out as political subjects, as they were legal minors under customary law and thus not proper “persons” in their own rights. 31 The language of 1952 pass-law legislation was characteristically vague—first stating that pass laws would apply to “every native” aged sixteen or older, but then shifting to masculine pronouns. 32

Officials prevaricated about when and how pass laws would be extended to African women under the terms of the 1952 legislation, facing public outrage about this intrusion into family life. 33 Then, in 1955 , officials announced that individual passes would soon be issued to African women; women’s organized resistance, discussed in the next section, delayed full implementation of this requirement until 1963 .

Yet women kept moving to cities, whether or not they could claim Section Ten rights or passes testifying to their legal right to be there temporarily. Many lived covertly in “informal settlements” of shacks, or with men in migrant labor hostels. They faced frequent prosecution for breaking the law and forced deportations to Bantustans: this risk was especially pronounced for Africans in Cape Town, where most working-class jobs were reserved for “Coloured” men, and where African women had access to few formal jobs outside of low-paid domestic service. 34 But women often turned right around after their deportations to catch the next bus into town, despite feeling “like a hare being chased around, hunted.” 35 The everyday presence of black families—in urban spaces legally defined as white, where black people were only supposed to appear as necessary to meet white labor needs—powerfully challenged core tenets of apartheid. 36 Ultimately, the expense of combatting this unstoppable movement of black families to cities forced apartheid officials to end pass laws in 1986 . 37 African women’s migration then accelerated, with continually rising numbers of female-headed households. 38 Black women’s defiant mobility thus worked to renegotiate relationships between genders and generations.

Amidst this insistent mobility, growing numbers of women in rural reserves were also not fulfilling the roles that officials envisioned. Resistance to the Bantu Authorities Act of 1951 surged quickly, and women played key roles in rejecting the cooption of chiefly authority and implementation of new agricultural policies, with organized protests in places including the Western Transvaal area of Zeerust ( 1957 ) and the Natal countryside ( 1959 ). The latter protests significantly linked urban and rural issues, as women protested both apartheid removals from the interracial urban community of Cato Manor in Durban and intrusive “betterment schemes” and taxes in the rural reserves surrounding the city. 39 While the ANC did not initiate these protests, its members were involved in them, and ANC membership increased in their aftermath. Rural women’s engagement in religious groups such as mothers’ prayer unions ( manyano ), which also boasted linked urban branches, provided another font for growing anti-apartheid organization. Cyclical migration—driven by forced removals and by women’s decisions to return to rural areas after periods of work in cities—kept urban and rural communities linked. 40

Anti-apartheid linkages between towns and countryside would only accelerate as apartheid officials increasingly “banned” political leaders to remote districts, to try to eliminate them as national leaders amidst surging protests from the 1950s. This strategy could backfire, as banned leaders connected with people in these rural districts whom they would not otherwise have met. Women often made these connections by engaging in social-welfare work, which seemed less objectionable to officials than overt political organizing. Most famously, during their bannings in the 1970s and 1980s, the Black Consciousness movement activist Mamphela Ramphele and the ANC activist Winnie Mandela organized health clinics, which became centers for spreading anti-apartheid ideas. 41 The politicizing role of health care speaks to women’s broader sociocultural style of anti-apartheid organization.

Women’s Collective Organization Challenges Apartheid

The pattern of male leadership of political movements, and women’s influence at movements’ grassroots, persisted through the apartheid years, with women tending to play influential roles in sociocultural wings of the anti-apartheid movement. In the 1950s, women first organized against apartheid as mothers, uniting across lines of race and class. Both the achievements and limits of their foundational strategies set a pattern, which would emerge vividly in the 1960s and 1970s. The pattern was that women would organize most effectively by using discourses of family. But when women raised sensitive issues pertaining to their own family lives that did not fit within activist campaigns, men often dismissed these issues as ancillary to immediate political struggles. Many women would come to share male leaders’ emphasis on family as a strategic political discourse more than an immediate site of political struggle. This was so especially in the 1960s and 1970s, when major liberation movements were forced into exile and key male and female leaders banned, heightening the stakes of eliminating anything deemed a “distraction.” Finally, in the 1980s and during the transition to democracy in the 1990s, women increasingly challenged activists’ sublimation of personal issues in political arenas, using indigenous and international forms of feminist critique.

The Congress Alliance and Federation of South African Women in the 1950s: The Foundational Period

In the 1950s, opposition to apartheid centered in the Congress Alliance: a front of anti-apartheid movements in which the ANC played a predominant role, in partnership with the South African Indian Congress, the Coloured People’s Congress, and the white leftist Congress of Democrats. The Congress Alliance was a “multiracial” organization because it comprised those racially distinct affiliate organizations. In the mid-1950s, two major nonracial member organizations—comprising both black and white members—joined the Congress Alliance: the South African Congress of Trade Unions (SACTU) and the Federation of South African Women (FEDSAW). Women played important roles in the SACTU, as unions provided a distinctive forum in which women could unite as workers across racial lines. 42 And female trade unionists played central roles in the 1954 launching of FEDSAW—as did women from the ANC.

FEDSAW’s first president was Ida Mtwana, former president of the ANC Women’s League (ANCWL); her better-known successor as FEDSAW’s leader, Lilian Ngoyi, also served as president of the ANCWL. Both women worked in the garment industry, and their activism characteristically emphasized issues of work and family. On one hand, the women often spoke of women’s commitment to anti-apartheid struggle as necessitating that they move away from domestic responsibilities. For instance, Mtwana declared at FEDSAW’s founding meeting, “Gone are the days when the place of women was in the kitchen and looking after the children. Today, they are marching side by side with men in the road to freedom,” in political meetings and in trade unions. But Mtwana went on to stress that women’s public activism was rooted in their responsibilities as mothers: “We cannot sit down and fold our arms when attempts are being made to hold our progress and that of our children . . . If we do not fight now, it will be too late, and our children will curse us for our callousness.” 43

Such invocations of familial responsibilities should not be taken narrowly as statements about individual women’s lives, but broadly as skillful public discourse. Several key FEDSAW leaders—including Miss Ida Mtwana—were unmarried or childless themselves. Black women drew upon the public leadership they exercised as mothers in their communities to forge ties across racial lines, appealing to white women through appeals to a shared moral economy of motherhood. Discourses of motherhood therefore demonstrated black women’s rejection of apartheid ideas of white women as “empire builders” and black mothers as social problems, and reflected black women’s bold political imagination of a shared community of mothers with a responsibility for creating an anti-racist world. 44

Unifying maternal discourses were an achievement, because divisions between black and white women ran deep. After all, the major space of interracial encounter was domestic service, where black women tended intimately to the needs of white “madams” and their children for low pay, often living away from their own children to stay in the backyards of their employers. 45 Moreover, white women had won suffrage in 1930 at the expense of black men’s loss of their limited franchise, something that black activists did not forget. 46 Making connections across racial lines—including among African, Coloured, and Indian women, who increasingly lived in separate communities—was a great challenge.

Despite tensions, FEDSAW succeeded in uniting women as mothers against apartheid policies that divided black families and communities: centrally, against pass laws and Bantu Education. In June 1955 , FEDSAW participated in the Congress Alliance’s Congress of the People in Kliptown, Johannesburg, where FEDSAW issued a list of “What Women Demand,” beginning with claims to rights such as paid maternity leave, child care, and contraception “FOR ALL MOTHERS OF ALL RACES.” 47 Famously, FEDSAW then organized multiracial delegations of women to march on the seat of the apartheid government, the Union Buildings in Pretoria. FEDSAW and COD member Helen Joseph was inspired by a liberal white women’s organization, Black Sash, which had been “haunting” apartheid officials by surrounding them with groups of women wearing the eponymous black sashes, signs of mourning against apartheid policies. 48 With her comrades in FEDSAW, Joseph incited more powerful, multiracial activism.

On October 27, 1955 , two thousand women followed the symbolic quartet of Joseph, ANCWL president Lilian Ngoyi, Coloured People’s Congress activist Sophie Williams, and the heavily pregnant South African Indian Congress activist Rahima Moosa, bearing petitions to leave for cabinet ministers. On August 9, 1956 , a day now celebrated as Women’s Day, twenty thousand women marched with FEDSAW on the Union Buildings, coming from as far away as Cape Town, and leaving thick stacks of individual petitions protesting the extension of passes to women on the doorstep of the prime minister’s office. 49 The women, many with children, sang the ANC’s anthem and taunting anti-apartheid songs, then gathered for a half hour of stunning silence, richly documented by journalists and photographers. Such iconic activism delayed implementation of pass laws for women until 1963 , but it also led to deepening state repression against FEDSAW activists that made the organization effectively moribund by the early 1960s.

FEDSAW members struggled not only with divisions among anti-apartheid women but also with struggles between these women and officials. They also confronted tensions with anti-apartheid men—tensions amplified by the ANC’s dominance in the Congress Alliance. Men had consistently served as ANC presidents from its 1912 founding, even though women had been full members of the ANC and leaders of the ANCWL since 1943 . Significantly, as scholar Shireen Hassim has described, the early ANC “was a political family and it replicated the hierarchical form of a patriarchal institution.” 50 The ANCWL’s founding president, Madie Hall Xuma, was the wife of the ANC’s president, Dr. A. B. Xuma. The National Executive Committee (NEC) was all male prior to Lilian Ngoyi’s election to it in late 1956 , recognizing her impressive work in FEDSAW. The NEC mediated between the party’s membership and the state, while the ANCWL focused on the everyday social and economic needs of its membership; both oversaw the ANC Youth League, which pushed party elders leftward. Women in both the Youth League and Women’s League often chafed against the restrictions of male party leaders, who encouraged women to engage in educational campaigns rather than confronting authorities with further protests after 1956 . 51 Men’s attitudes reflected both a protective impulse, and patriarchal assumptions that women should remain marginal to politics. 52 Above all, Congress Alliance men often failed to see women’s discussions of family issues that did not fit into the central activist platform as matters of politics. For instance, they responded to FEDSAW women’s discussions of family planning with what scholar Cherryl Walker has characterized as “jocular dismissal.” 53

Anti-apartheid men’s dismissal of women’s discussions of family planning was profoundly ironic, for two reasons. First, intimate issues of family were actually central to issues of apartheid governance, which hinged on control of racialized bodies and homes. Second, activist men relied upon women’s deft public rhetoric of motherhood to bring more activists into the anti-apartheid movement; they acknowledged anti-pass issues as central to the movement. 54 Yet most activists were no more ready for open discussions about real tensions of sexuality and family than were puritanical apartheid officials. Other matters of oppression loomed too large. Reticence about public discussion of sexuality applied to both male and female activists. Most had been raised in religiously conservative homes and schools where intimate matters were treated delicately, were Communists who saw gender issues as subordinate to class issues, or were both Communists and Christians. Anti-apartheid activists’ reliance on rallying familial discourses, but discomfort talking about family tensions that did not fit within the central anti-apartheid platform, would deepen with state repression in the 1960s and 1970s, as the need for activist discipline (already significant in the 1950s) grew.

Navigating the Personal and the Political, at the Height of the Anti-apartheid Movement

In April 1960 , officials banned the ANC and a rival organization, the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC), after women and men’s rising anti-pass activism and escalating police violence against protestors. From this point until February 1990 , the major liberation movements went underground, with key leaders in exile, imprisoned, repeatedly detained, or personally banned. All of these assaults on leaders were profoundly disruptive to family life. 55 Women lost organizational autonomy in the interest of streamlining underground operations: in 1969 , the ANCWL was replaced by the ANC Women’s Section, which Hassim describes as turning into “the movement’s social worker.” 56

Iconography of women and families played an integral role in an increasingly global anti-apartheid movement. This movement was shaped both by new armed wings of the ANC and PAC launched in 1961 , and by a transnational civil-societal campaign encouraging boycotts and diplomatic pressure on the apartheid regime that grew stronger after South Africa left the British Commonwealth in 1961 . Within South Africa, women’s social and cultural work fueled a new movement called Black Consciousness, rooted among students and workers across the country from the late 1960s. Black Consciousness activism would explode in a wave of student protests against Bantu Education in 1976 , which began in the Johannesburg township of Soweto but turned into a national schools boycott after police massacred student protestors. After 1976 , new waves of activists—especially youth—fled South Africa, and the country’s international pariah status worsened.

Women were a minority of armed combatants plotting sabotage from across South Africa’s borders, but both the iconography and presence of women has attracted attention—particularly from scholars of the ANC’s armed wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK, or Spear of the Nation). Conspicuous in MK’s propaganda were images of what scholar Kim Miller has called “moms with guns”: women with babies on their backs, weapons in hand, and fury in their eyes. 57 Female MK members could experience a thrilling sense of equality with men, particularly in cases where women held rank, and women performed critical roles smuggling weapons into South Africa. But women were also confronted with sexism and harassment from their comrades, the product of the very male-dominated atmosphere of MK camps.

Most troubling for many MK women were the ANC’s policies on pregnancy and childrearing, which reflect the essential contradictions between discourses and realities of family in the anti-apartheid struggle. Pregnancy was supposed to be forbidden for MK women, with some forcibly fitted with IUDs. MK women did inevitably become pregnant, however, especially after new waves of young activists flocked into MK camps from 1976 , and as the camps faced prolonged periods of minimal activity, plotting and training for many military expeditions that never occurred. Pregnant women would be sent to the ANC’s Charlotte Maxeke Mother and Child Centre in Morogoro, Tanzania—which they understood as a punishment, as this remote exile-within-exile took them away from camps in the frontline states. By the late 1980s, the Women’s Section complained to the party officials of years of demanding day-care facilities near MK camps so that women could be mothers while preparing as soldiers, without result: “We seem to travel in a dead end street with marriage and babies being at the end of the street. There is not and can never be a contradiction between marriage and having babies on one hand and fighting on the other.” 58 Yet MK women could only be “moms with guns” in propaganda.

Women had more space in the cultural wings of the global anti-apartheid movement, as ANC president O. R. Tambo particularly supported the deployment of eloquent and engaging women in exile: women were central to the Mayibuye Cultural Ensemble in London, and Barbara Masekela led the ANC’s Arts and Culture wing in the 1980s, for instance. South Africa’s most prolific, globally influential anti-apartheid novelist was a middle-class white woman in suburban Johannesburg, Nadine Gordimer. Black woman artists in exile, like Miriam Makeba and Lauretta Ngcobo, generated support for the anti-apartheid movement in the United States and Europe.

Within South Africa, educational institutions became important sites for young women’s anti-apartheid thought and organizing. Inanda Seminary, a high school drawing some of the brightest African girls from around the country to its campus near Durban, was an especially lively site during the 1970s. There young women met visiting activists like Steve Biko, a radical medical student at the nearby University of Natal, and Fatima Meer, an Indian academic-activist based at that university. While black women remained severely underrepresented in higher education compared to black men or whites, black girls’ high school attendance was rising dramatically during the apartheid years, such that by the early 1980s more black girls than black boys would be in high school. This was an outcome of apartheid policies promoting the education of black female teachers and nurses to work in new Bantustan schools and clinics, as officials saw women as both cheaper to employ and more politically tractable. 59 As the cases of banned activists setting up politically vibrant rural clinics make clear, women’s work in social professions could give them an entrée to anti-apartheid organizing. Such work could be particularly politicizing as women were confronted directly with apartheid’s violence, especially in clinics and social work. 60

The Black Consciousness (BC) movement, while helmed by men like Steve Biko, was undergirded by the work of young women in clinics, schools, and journalism, working to unite black women and men—African, Indian, and Coloured—to end apartheid. 61 Yet women in BC, like women in the liberation movements in exile, ran up against frustrating gendered limitations. As Mamphela Ramphele notes of her time as a leader in the South African Students’ Organisation, the key BC group until its 1977 banning: “I became quite an aggressive debater and was known for not suffering fools gladly. Moreover, I intimidated men who did not expect aggression from women. Soon a group of similarly inclined women, Vuyelwa Mashalaba, Nomsisi Kraai, Deborah Matshoba and Thenjiwe Mthintso, became a force to be reckoned with at annual SASO meetings. Ours was not a feminist cause at that time—feminism was a later development in my political consciousness—but an insistence on being taken seriously as activists in our own right amongst our peers.” 62 Attempts at organizing BC women, such as Fatima Meer and Winnie Mandela’s Black Women’s Federation in 1975 , similarly attempted to develop women’s self-assertion while shying away from the label “feminism.” 63

Hassim’s Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa has most vividly shown how often anti-apartheid activists—particularly women of color—resisted calling themselves feminists, or discussing issues of gender inequity within their movements in public from the 1970s. It was not only that feminism was often rejected as an imported, “white” ideology without indigenous roots. That critique reflected the overrepresentation of white academics in South Africa’s second-wave feminist groups, the dramatic differences between the conditions of white and black women’s lives, and global moves of African American and “Third World” women toward less individualistic ideologies like “womanism.” As state oppression grew more pervasive in the 1980s—with prolonged “states of emergency” of military rule by mid-decade—feminism could seem a divisive distraction that activists should not indulge.

Yet Hassim has also shown how individual women’s connections of their experiences with those of other women could lead them, like Mamphele, to feminist consciousness. This happened as women grew involved in a resurgent wave of grassroots organizations—called township “civics”—as part of the United Democratic Front (UDF), a new, aboveground coalition of anti-apartheid groups stressing non-racialism and democracy from 1983 . Three major regional women’s groups formed: the United Women’s Organisation in the Western Cape (UWO), the Federation of Transvaal Women (FEDTRAW), and the Natal Organisation of Women (NOW). These groups were inspired by FEDSAW, which ANC activists were then trying to reestablish within South Africa. An emerging challenge facing women in these movements was how to connect personal issues with the political system that shaped them and that they shaped—against many activist men and women’s tendencies to sublimate intimate issues. Activist Phumelele Ntombela-Nzimande recalled, “NOW comrades were asking, ‘Why write about rape all the time?’ These were seen as weird issues to focus on. They said people should speak about the state of emergency, not about wife battering . . . Even I don’t remember once challenging a NOW meeting to speak about these issues. I just felt overwhelmed by the fact that it wasn’t appropriate.” 64 In Natal in particular, the brewing civil war between UDF activists and the Zulu nationalist group Inkatha (sponsored by the apartheid government) put discussion of such issues on the backburner for many activists in the 1980s. But growing sexual violence was a significant part of Natal’s political violence, laying the groundwork for the province’s high rates of HIV/AIDS after the democratic transition.

Throughout the anti-apartheid struggle, women were routinely underestimated and ignored as political actors. Officials’ underestimation of women could open up valuable political space. Women running politically lively clinics and schools, for instance, were not seen as threatening, while male-led political groups attracted more censure. 65 Yet the neglect of core issues of gendered inequality as apolitical—by many male and female activists—left lingering contradictions after apartheid’s end. The democratic transition in 1994 was in some respects remarkably progressive on gender and sexuality, with a constitution enshrining equality and unprecedented rights for LGBTQ citizens; but ANC leaders’ compromises with chiefs meant that women living under customary law could not realize this equality. Moreover, everyday gendered inequities—in issues from employment, to pervasive sexual violence—plague post-apartheid society. While South African women undermined apartheid from its gendered core, they have yet to realize core rights of gendered citizenship.

Discussion of the Literature

Work in this field began to emerge in the 1980s. Scholars, many of whom were also activists, began to develop an anti-apartheid feminism that acknowledged the harm done by a national liberation movement that could not fully grapple with gendered oppression during its long struggle. Marxism was influential in this early work. Scholars working during the late apartheid years were therefore concerned with (1) how gendered oppression had been integral to the racial capitalism that anti-apartheid activists were fighting, and (2) how feminism and nationalism were linked. The second theme will be explored in detail here, as it has recently been attracting more attention from a new wave of scholars.

On the first point, Belinda Bozzoli’s 1983 essay, “Marxism, Feminism and South African Studies,” examined the “patchwork quilt of patriarchies” through which the migrant labor system foundational to apartheid had developed. 66 Probing gendered histories of domestic service, factory work, nursing, and mining followed. 67

Walker’s Women and Resistance in South Africa , first published in 1982 with a second edition in 1991 , was the germinal study connecting the gendered foundations of apartheid rule with women’s development of strategies of collective resistance. The book emerged from Walker’s University of Cape Town thesis, drawing upon archives, activist memoirs, and interviews about the Federation of South African Women. But it also offers a deeper history of women’s urban migration, rural struggles, and links with male-led organizations, extending far beyond FEDSAW. Walker raised two central questions that shaped subsequent scholarship. First was the question of how apartheid-era South African women’s organizing was both emboldened and constrained by the movement for national liberation out of which it emerged. Second was the question of how, why, and to what consequences motherhood has united South African women.

In the first edition, Walker contended that both FEDSAW women’s lack of organizational autonomy and tendency to unite as mothers limited their feminism, seeing women as bound to both patriarchal politics and patriarchal homes. In the preface to the second edition, she backed away from seeing maternal appeals as primarily conservative, following pointed critiques of this approach as reductive and predicated on Western understandings of family life as a refuge from the public sphere. Hassim’s 2006 Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa: Contesting Authority pursued the question of women’s organizational autonomy more fully, extending her examination to the ANC in exile, women’s grassroots organizations in the 1980s, and the democratic transition. Like Walker, Hassim adjudged that the subordination of South African women’s organizations to the increasingly pressing needs of its national liberation movement ultimately constrained the gender-transformational potential of the democratic transition.

Nomboniso Gasa’s essay on 1950s women’s organizing in her 2007 edited volume, Women in South African History , challenged the theoretical premises of both of Walker’s central questions, as well as Julia Wells’s maintenance of the position that the “motherist” politics driving anti-pass protests were fundamentally conservative. 68 “At the heart of the earlier struggles is the fact that African women were homeless by state design,” Gasa argued. “Their struggle against the pass laws, which were a tangible way of infringing their rights, was, in fact a struggle to be in the public domain at the same time as a struggle for free movement.” 69 Building on Gasa’s intervention—and on the questions about motherhood Walker posited in her own auto-critique—scholars have begun to address the histories of motherhood in southern Africa that gave maternal politics very different meanings for black and white women, and to examine how family tensions played out politically during the liberation struggle. 70

The most important counterpoint to Walker’s and Hassim’s argument that female activists’ lack of autonomy from that national liberation movement limited their feminism remains Zine Magubane’s extensive 2010 essay, “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990 : A Theoretical Re-interpretation,” in the Road to Democracy series. Revisiting Walker’s and Hassim’s sources and examining additional interviews, activist memoirs, and archives of FEDSAW and the ANC, Magubane argues that autonomy was not a viable option: groups like FEDSAW derived strength from their roots in political groups and trade unions. 71 Further, she contends that black women’s emphasis on motherhood did not entrench patriarchy, but rather asserted black women’s moral leadership over white women in a growing popular struggle. Drawing on women’s own conceptions of their activism, she shows how political motherhood in FEDSAW, and in subsequent movements influenced by FEDSAW, was an ideology rooted in black women’s experiences of not only caring for their own children, but also taking community leadership roles on the basis of their maternal authority. 72 New scholarship is only beginning to grapple with the challenges and opportunities that transformations in the political meanings and everyday experiences of family brought to women, and to men, during apartheid and in the transition to democracy. 73

Primary Sources

National and provincial archives, with a searchable online database , contain information on both foundational gendered legislation and protests against key policies such as pass laws. The most revealing archives document anti-apartheid resistance, however. Compared to anti-apartheid men, relatively few women have extensive personal archives. The University of the Witwatersrand’s Historical Papers do contain some (such as those of Helen Joseph, Lilian Ngoyi, and Hilda Bernstein of FEDSAW) and FEDSAW’s organizational archives; key sources, including the FEDSAW papers, have been digitized . Other major collections include the ANCWL papers housed at the Mayibuye Archive , at the University of the Western Cape, and the central ANC Archives at the University of Fort Hare; both of these collections regrettably lack complete, searchable online databases at the time of writing. Campbell Collections at the University of KwaZulu-Natal contains archives for women’s organizations such as the Natal Organization of Women. Many women have published memoirs of their anti-apartheid activism and imprisonment, 74 and extensive oral histories have been collected on women’s experiences of exile. 75 Prominent women have also authored collections of essays and creative writing reflecting critically on the apartheid years. 76 Other published primary sources include Shula Marks’ collection of letters between a troubled schoolgirl and her benefactors in apartheid’s early years, and an anthology of regional writing. 77 Key feminist anti-apartheid periodicals may be found in JSTOR’s Struggles for Freedom: Southern Africa collection.

Further Reading

• Berger, Iris . Threads of Solidarity: Women in South African Industry, 1900–1980 . Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992.
• Bernstein, Hilda . For Their Triumphs and Their Tears: Women in Apartheid South Africa . London: International Defence and Aid Fund for Southern Africa, 1978.
• Bozzoli, Belinda . “Marxism, Feminism and South African Studies.” Journal of Southern African Studies 9.2 (April 1983): 139–171.
• Bozzoli, Belinda , and Mmantho Nkotsoe . Women of Phokeng: Consciousness, Life Strategy, and Migration in South Africa, 1900–1983 . Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1991.
• Cock, Jacklyn . Maids and Madams: A Study in the Politics of Exploitation . Johannesburg: Ravan, 1980.
• Gasa, Nomboniso , ed. Women in South African History: Basus’iimbokodo, bawel’imilambo/They Remove Boulders and Cross Rivers . Cape Town: Human Sciences Research Council Press, 2007.
• Hassim, Shireen . Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa: Contesting Authority . Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006.
• Hassim, Shireen . The ANC Women’s League: Sex, Gender and Politics . Athens: Ohio University Press, 2015.
• Healy-Clancy, Meghan . A World of Their Own: A History of South African Women’s Education . Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2014.
• Hunter, Mark . Love in the Time of AIDS: Inequality, Gender, and Rights in South Africa . Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 2010.
• Joseph, Helen . Tomorrow’s Sun: A Smuggled Journal from South Africa . London: Hutchinson, 1966.
• Klausen, Susanne M. Abortion under Apartheid: Nationalism, Sexuality, and Women’s Reproductive Rights in South Africa . New York: Oxford University Press, 2015.
• Kuzwayo, Ellen . Call Me Woman . London: The Women’s Press, 1985.
• Lee, Rebekah . African Women and Apartheid: Migration and Settlement in Urban South Africa . New York: I.B. Tauris, 2009.
• Mager, Anne . Gender and the Making of a South African Bantustan: A Social History of the Ciskei, 1945–1959 . Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1999.
• Magubane, Zine . “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990: A Theoretical Re-interpretation.” In The Road to Democracy in South Africa , vol. 4. Edited by South African Democracy Education Trust , 975–1036. Pretoria: University of South Africa Press, 2010.
• Mandela, Winnie . 91 Days: Prisoner Number 1323/69 . Athens: Ohio University Press, 2013.
• Marks, Shula . Not Either an Experimental Doll: The Separate Worlds of Three South African Women . Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987.
• Marks, Shula . Divided Sisterhood: Race, Class, and Gender in the South African Nursing Profession . Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press, 1994.
• Mashinini, Emma . Strikes Have Followed Me All My Life . New York: Routledge, 1991.
• Ngcobo, Lauretta , ed. Prodigal Daughters: Stories of South African Women in Exile . Pietermaritzburg: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2012.
• Ramphele, Mamphela . A Bed Called Home: Life in the Migrant Labour Hostels of Cape Town . Athens: Ohio University Press, 1993.
• Ramphele, Mamphela . Across Boundaries: The Journey of a South African Woman Leader . New York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 1996.
• Walker, Cherryl . Women and Resistance in South Africa . Cape Town: David Philip, 1982.
• Wells, Julia C. We Now Demand! The History of Women’s Resistance to Pass Laws in South Africa . Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press, 1993.

1. Saul Dubow , Apartheid, 1948–1994 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 10–13.

2. Cherryl Walker , Women and Resistance in South Africa (Cape Town: David Philip, 1991), 23.

3. Marijke Du Toit , “The Domesticity of Afrikaner Nationalism: Volksmoeders and the ACVV, 1904–1929,” Journal of Southern African Studies 29.1 (2003): 155–176.

4. Meghan Healy-Clancy , “Women and the Problem of Family in Early African Nationalist History and Historiography,” South African Historical Journal 64.3 (2012): 450–471.

5. Natasha Erlank , “Gender and Masculinity in South African Nationalist Discourse, 1912–1950,” Feminist Studies 29.3 (2003): 653–671.

6. Dubow, Apartheid , 7–8.

7. Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds , Drawing the Global Colour Line: White Men’s Countries and the International Challenge of Racial Equality (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 354.

8. See also Ann Laura Stoler , Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002; 2010).

9. Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act , Act No. 55 of 1949. An amendment in 1968 further prohibited marriages between South African men and foreign women of other races.

10. Immorality Amendment Act , Act No. 21 of 1950.

11. Immorality and Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Amendment Act , Act No. 72 of 1985.

12. Immorality Amendment Act , Act No. 21 of 1950, Section 3.

13. Population Registration Act , Act No. 30 of 1950.

14. Group Areas Act , Act No. 41 of 1950, Section 2 (b) (ii).

15. Laurine Platsky and Cherryl Walker , The Surplus People: Forced Removals in South Africa (Johannesburg: Ravan Press, 1985).

16. As in the famous case of Sandra Laing in the 1960s: Judith Stone , When She Was White: The True Story of a Family Divided by Race (New York: Hyperion, 2007).

17. Barbara B. Brown , “Facing the ‘Black Peril’: The Politics of Population Control in South Africa,” Journal of Southern African Studies 13.2 (1987): 256–273; Zine Magubane , “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990: A Theoretical Re-interpretation,” in The Road to Democracy in South Africa , vol. 4, ed. South African Democracy Education Trust (Pretoria: UNISA Press, 2010), 975–1036, 1025–1026; and Susanne M. Klausen , Abortion under Apartheid: Nationalism, Sexuality, and Women’s Reproductive Rights in South Africa (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015).

18. Belinda Bozzoli , “Marxism, Feminism and South African Studies,” Journal of Southern African Studies 9.2 (April 1983): 139–171.

19. Natives (Abolition of Passes and Co-ordination of Documents) Act , Act of No. 67 of 1952.

20. These were known as “Section Ten” rights, because the Native Laws Amendment Act modified Section Ten of the Natives (Urban Areas) Consolidation Act of 1945. See Native Laws Amendment Act , Act No. 54 of 1952, Section 27.

21. Harold Wolpe , “Capitalism and Cheap Labour-Power in South Africa: From Segregation to Apartheid,” Economy and Society 1.4 (1972): 425–456; and T. Dunbar Moodie and Vivienne Ndatshe , Going for Gold: Men, Mines, and Migration (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994).

22. Bantu Authorities Act , Act No. 68 of 1951; Harold Jack Simons , African Women: Their Legal Status in South Africa (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1968); and Hilda Bernstein , For Their Triumphs and Their Tears: Women in Apartheid South Africa (London: International Defense and Aid Fund for Southern Africa, 1985), 28–30.

23. Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act , Act No. 46 of 1959.

24. Bantu Homelands Citizenship Act , Act No. 26 of 1970.

25. KwaZulu Act on the Code of Zulu Law , 1981, Section 16.

26. Matrimonial Property Act , Act No. 88 of 1984.

27. Bantu Education Act , Act No. 47 of 1953.

28. Walker, Women and Resistance , 128.

29. Thus the Orwellian name for the 1952 Natives (Abolition of Passes and Co-ordination of Documents) Act: it sought to extend uniform laws about identity documents across the country.

30. Julia C. Wells , We Now Demand! The History of Women’s Resistance to Pass Laws in South Africa (Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press, 1993); and Nomboniso Gasa , ‘‘Let Them Build More Gaols,’’ in Women in South African History , ed. Gasa (Cape Town: Human Sciences Research Council Press, 2007), 129–152.

31. Linzi Manicom , “Ruling Relations: Rethinking State and Gender in South African History,” Journal of African History 33.3 (1992): 441–465.

32. Natives (Abolition of Passes and Co-ordination of Documents) Act , Section 2.

33. Walker, Women and Resistance , 126–130.

34. Rebekah Lee , African Women and Apartheid: Migration and Settlement in Urban South Africa (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2009).

35. Zodwa from Cape Town, quoted in Mamphela Ramphele , A Bed Called Home: Life in the Migrant Labour Hostels of Cape Town (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1993), 18.

36. Anne-Maria Makhulu , Making Freedom: Apartheid, Squatter Politics, and the Struggle for Home (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2015).

37. Abolition of Influx Control Act , Act No. 68 of 1986.

38. Mark Hunter , Love in the Time of AIDS: Inequality, Gender, and Rights in South Africa (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 2010), 84–102.

39. Walker, Women and Resistance , 230–235.

40. Belinda Bozzoli and Mmantho Nkotsoe , Women of Phokeng: Consciousness, Life Strategy, and Migration in South Africa, 1900–1983 (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1991); and Luli Callinicos , “Testimonies and Transitions: Women Negotiating the Rural and Urban in the Mid-20th Century,” in Women in South African History , ed. Gasa , 153–184.

41. Saleem Badat , The Forgotten People: Political Banishment under Apartheid (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2013), 204–215.

42. Iris Berger , Threads of Solidarity: Women in South African Industry, 1900–1980 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992), 153–169.

43. “ Report of the First National Congress of Women, Held in the Trades Hall, Johannesburg, South Africa, April 17th 1954 ,” Federation of South African Women Papers, Historical Papers, Cullen Library, University of the Witwatersrand, File AD1137-Ac1.6.2.

44. Magubane, “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990,” 1020.

45. Jacklyn Cock , Maids and Madams: A Study in the Politics of Exploitation (Johannesburg: Ravan, 1980).

46. Magubane, “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990,” 984–985.

47. “ What Women Demand ,” Federation of South African Women Papers, Historical Papers, Cullen Library, University of the Witwatersrand, File AD1137-Ea2-001.

48. Mary Ingouville Burton , The Black Sash: Women for Justice and Peace (Auckland Park: Jacana, 2015). White women would later organize influentially as mothers fighting their sons’ forced conscription into the apartheid military: Jacklyn Cock , “‘Another Mother for Peace’: Women and Peace Building in South Africa, 1983–2003,” in Women in South African History , ed. Gasa , 257–280.

49. Helen Joseph , Tomorrow’s Sun: A Smuggled Journal from South Africa (London: Hutchinson, 1966), 63–85. The multiracial delegation was captured in an iconic photograph by Jurgen Schadeberg.

50. Shireen Hassim , The ANC Women’s League: Sex, Gender and Politics (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 2015), 29.

51. Shireen Hassim , Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa: Contesting Authority (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006), 26–27; and Wells, We Now Demand! 117.

52. Nomboniso Gasa , “Feminisms, Motherisms, Patriarchies and Women’s Voices in the 1950s,” in Women in South African History , ed. Gasa , 207–229.

53. Walker, Women and Resistance , 260.

54. Magubane, “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990,” 999–1000.

55. Hilda Bernstein , ed., The Rift: The Exile Experience of South Africans (London: Jonathan Cape, 1994); and Lauretta Ngcobo , ed., Prodigal Daughters: Stories of South African Women in Exile (Pietermaritzburg: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press, 2012).

56. Hassim, Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa , 87.

57. Kim Miller , “Moms with Guns: Political Agency in Anti-apartheid Visual Culture,” African Arts (Summer 2009): 68–75.

58. Hassim, Women’s Organizations and Democracy , 90; Raymond Suttner , “Women in the ANC-Led Underground,” in Women in South African History , ed. Gasa , 233–255; and Rachel Sandwell , “‘Love I Cannot Begin to Explain’: The Politics of Reproduction in the ANC in Exile, 1976–1990,” Journal of Southern African Studies 41.1 (2015): 63–81.

59. Anne Mager , Gender and the Making of a South African Bantustan: A Social History of the Ciskei, 1945–1959 (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1999); and Meghan Healy-Clancy , A World of Their Own: A History of South African Women’s Education (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2014), 120–190.

60. Shula Marks , Divided Sisterhood: Race, Class, and Gender in the South African Nursing Profession (Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press, 1994); Simonne Horwitz , Baragwanath Hospital, Soweto: A History of Medical Care, 1941–1990 (Wits University Press, 2013); and Ellen Kuzwayo , Call Me Woman (Johannesburg: Picador, 1985).

61. Leslie Hadfield , Liberation and Development: Black Consciousness Community Programs in South Africa (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2016).

62. Mamphela Ramphele , Across Boundaries: The Journey of a South African Woman Leader (New York: The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, 1996).

63. Hassim, Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa , 61.

64. Hassim, Women’s Organizations and Democracy in South Africa , 58.

65. Healy-Clancy, A World of Their Own .

66. Bozzoli, “Marxism, Feminism and South African Studies.” This was developed further in Women of Phokeng .

67. Cock, Maids and Madams ; Berger, Threads of Solidarity ; Marks, Divided Sisterhood ; and Moodie and Ndatshe, Going for Gold .

68. Wells, We Now Demand!

69. Gasa, “Feminism, Motherisms, Patriarchies,” 214.

70. Cherryl Walker , “Conceptualising Motherhood in Twentieth Century South Africa,” Journal of Southern African Studies 21.3 (September 1995): 417–437; Judith Stevenson , “‘The Mamas Were Ripe’: Ideologies of Motherhood and Resistance in a South African Township,” Feminist Formations 23.2 (2011): 132–163; Healy-Clancy, “Women and the Problem of Family”; Arianna Lissoni and Maria Suriano , “Married to the ANC: Tanzanian Women’s Entanglement in South Africa’s Liberation Struggle,” Journal of Southern African Studies 40.1 (2014): 129–150; and Sandwell, “‘Love I Cannot Begin to Explain.’”

71. Magubane, “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990,” 979–1004.

72. Magubane, “Attitudes Towards Feminism among Women in the ANC, 1950–1990,” 1009–1036.

73. Mark Hunter, Love in the Time of AIDS .

74. Including Joseph, Tomorrow’s Sun ; Kuzwayo, Call Me Woman ; Ramphele, Across Boundaries ; Emma Mashinini , Strikes Have Followed Me All My Life (New York: Routledge, 1991); and Winnie Mandela , 91 Days: Prisoner Number 1323/69 (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2013).

75. Bernstein, ed., The Rift ; Ngcobo, ed., Prodigal Daughters .

76. See, for instance, Nadine Gordimer , Living in Hope and History (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999).

77. Shula Marks , Not Either an Experimental Doll: The Separate Worlds of Three South African Women (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987).

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Welcome to the United Nations

30 years on, South Africa still dismantling racism and apartheid’s legacy

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Rethabile Ratsomo said it’s the little things that remind her of her perceived “place” in South African society.

There are the verbal slights and side-eye in workspaces, where she’s been viewed as a B-BBEE hire (The Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment programme in South African that seeks to advance and transform the participation of black people in the country’s economy) and therefore not capable of doing the work. There are the passive-aggressive comments from colleagues, constantly complimenting her on how well she speaks English. She has lived through the daily microaggressions that form part of her life.

“I am a born-free and despite being born after the advent of democracy in South Africa, my race continues to play a huge role in my being, as a South African,” Ratsomo said, 29, who currently works at the Anti-Racism Network and the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation. “Many people continue to normalise racial discrimination and perpetuate harmful behaviours. Racism remains rife.”

Thirty years since the end of Apartheid, South Africa still grapples with its legacy. Unequal access to education, unequal pay, segregated communities and massive economic disparities persists, much of it is reinforced by existing institutions and attitudes. How is it that racism and its accompanying discrimination continues to hold such sway in this, majority Black populated and Black governed nation?

Racism has deep roots in the economic, spatial and social fabric of this country. It reflects the legacy of oppression and subjugation from apartheid and colonialism. While progress has been made to eliminate the scourge of racism it requires everyone to do their part for it be eliminated, said Abigail Noko, Representative for UN Human Rights Regional Office of Southern Africa (OHCHR ROSA)

“Dismantling such entrenched racist and discriminatory systems requires commitment, leadership, dialogue and advocacy to put in place anti-racist policies that implement human rights norms and provide a framework to help address and rectify these injustices and promote equality,” she added.

Free your mind and the rest will follow

The project of dismantling racist systems in a place like South Africa, must go hand in hand with the process of decolonization – both at an institutional and an individual level, said Professor Tshepo Madlingozi, a Commissioner at the South African Human Rights Commission (SAHRC).

“History has shown that unless you have decolonized your mind, you are going to step into the shoes of the oppressor and oppress other people over and over again,” he said.

Madlingozi’s comments were part of a panel discussion on dismantling racist systems in South Africa, which took place during the Human Rights Festival in Johannesburg in March, which aligns with national Human Rights Day and the International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination. The discussion, sponsored by OHCHR ROSA, had three panellists providing their answers to the overarching question, how can racism present in the “rainbow nation” be dismantled to bring about freedom, equality, and justice for all?

Samkelo Mkhomi, a social justice and equality activist in her 20s, agreed that an internal mindset change was needed, especially among young people. She said she noticed that many of her born-free peers, i.e., someone who was born after the advent of democracy in South Africa, harbour suspicious and distrustful attitudes toward other races. She mentioned a friend who has a distrust of all white people. When Mkhomi asked why, he told her “because of what they did in the past.” She called this deliberate lack of understanding among her peers as hereditary and a big stumbling block in moving forward.

“We have set perceptions and stereotypes that we've inherited from family, from social experiences, experiences that are not our own,” Mkhomi said. “And we've used that as a blueprint to view other people. Once you can get rid of that as young people, I feel like we can start moving on and dismantling racism.”

Madlingozi suggested one way to do this could be to not only focus on individual racist incidences, but also to bring more awareness, and push for policies in institutions that deconstruct current ways of working.

“What matters is, have we dismantled the institutions, the cultures that perpetuate racism,” he said. “Because unless you do that, you’ll have Black people, you will have a Black government that will continue to perpetuate racism because that is the nature of institutionalised racism. So yes, let’s focus on individual human rights. Let’s focus on social justice, but where it matters the most is structural institutionalized oppression.”

Casting a long shadow

The scars of Apartheid run deep, leaving a legacy of segregation, discrimination and inequality. This is evidenced by the stark economic disparities in the country. A 2022  World Bank report on inequality in southern Africa  gave South Africa the unfortunate distinction of being the most unequal country in the world.

The report stated that 80 percent of the country’s wealth was in the hands of 10 percent of the population. And it is the Black population who factor the most into the poorest category. The report places the blame for the income disparities directly on race.

“The legacy of colonialism and Apartheid rooted in racial and spatial segregation continues to reinforce inequality,” the report states.

The spatial divide mirrors the economic one.

The evil genius of Apartheid was the segregation project, as it allowed the Government to not only separate people based on arbitrary categorisations, but through this create material differences between the communities to reinforce the idea of actual racial differences, said Tessa Dooms. These racial classifications also encouraged the idea that the different groups needed to compete for basic human rights, dignity and economic opportunities, she added.

“The Apartheid government didn’t just give people categories, they gave real live material meaning to those categories,” said Dooms, Director of Programmes for Rivonia Circle during the panel discussion. “As long as those categories mean something in the world, we still have work to do, to undo Apartheid, to undo colonialism, to decolonize.”

To do this, Dooms recommended practical vision as to what a decolonized South Africa would look like, being very specific about the results wanted. She also called on the privileged groups to do the heavy lifting of helping to create more equality. Until those with privileges work to broaden access to them, the cycle will continue, Dooms added.

“We cannot leave creating a more just world to the people who are most affected by injustice,” she said. “It’s not fair, it’s not right and it won’t work.”

Taking concrete action

Globally, South Africa’s post-Apartheid long walk to freedom has garnered an international reputation as a leader in global efforts to combat racism. In 2001, South Africa hosted the World Conference Against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance (WCAR), which resulted in the Durban Declaration and Programme of Action (DDPA). The DDPA is a roadmap, providing concrete measures for States to combat racism, discrimination and xenophobia and related intolerance.

One of the big recommendations was to have each country create its own National Action Plan (NAP). The plan is a means through which governments locally codify their commitment to taking action, with concrete steps on how they will combat racism. South Africa launched its plan in 2019, with OHCHR ROSA providing technical assistance. This assistance took many forms including participation in the consultations that led up to the final NAP and helping to set up support structures for its implementation, and support for research and other work to help develop systems for data collection on issues related to the NAP.

“Human rights play crucial role in dismantling racism by providing a framework for addressing and rectifying historical injustices, promoting equality, and ensuring that all individuals are treated fairly and with dignity,” Noko said

Various other sectors have pioneered innovative approaches to chip away at Apartheid’s remnants. Corporate and governmental diversity programmes, such as B-BBEE, and the Employment Equity Amendment Bill of 2020, aim to promote diversity and equity in the workplace.

Ratsomo of the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation said these and other efforts to address the underlying issue of what to do about that still exists in the country are key to taking it down. Everyone must  learn, speak up, and act on racism, racial discrimination and related intolerances, she said.

“The beginning point to tackle and dismantle systemic racism is to understand that being anti-racist does not only mean being against racism,” she said. “It also means being active and speaking out against racism whenever you see it happen. The more we understand racism, the easier it becomes to identify when it happens, which allows us to speak out and act against it when we see it happening.”

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South Africa's successful struggle for freedom and democracy is one of the most dramatic stories of our time. The racial tyranny of apartheid ended with a negotiated transition to a non-racial democracy, but not without considerable personal cost to thousands of men, women, and young people who were involved.

South Africa: Overcoming Apartheid, Building Democracy presents first-hand accounts of this important political movement. Interviews with South African activists, raw video footage documenting mass resistance and police repression, historical documents, rare photographs, and original narratives tell this remarkable story.

Watch three-minute preview video. Explore South Africa's history through unique Interviews , chronological Units , in-depth Essays , or collections of Media on key events in the struggle against apartheid. Curricular materials are in the For Educators section.

The story of a working man who lived through apartheid – and his struggles after it ended

Associate Professor in Sociology, University of Zululand

Distinguished Reserach Professor, Southern Centre for Inequality Studies, University of the Witwatersrand

Disclosure statement

Edward Webster receives funding from the Ford Foundation and the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung. He is affiliated to the Southern Centre for Inequality Studies, University of the Witwatersrand.

Paul Stewart does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

University of the Witwatersrand provides support as a hosting partner of The Conversation AFRICA.

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On 25 June, Mandlenkosi Makhoba, one of the last of a generation of grassroots worker leaders of the Federation of South African Trade Unions ( Fosatu ), was laid to rest above the majestic Mahlabathini plain in KwaZulu-Natal. He was 78.

Industrial workers such as Makhoba formed the basis of Fosatu, established in 1979 when democratic workers’ organisations forced the apartheid system to recognise their trade unions . This federation went on to win rights for black workers, contributed to a new workplace order and the establishment of national collective bargaining, while challenging racism and inequality in the workplace. It laid the basis for the formation of the Congress of South African Trade Unions (Cosatu) in 1985 with organised labour proving decisive in the transition to democracy.

Makhoba was, therefore, one of the “agents of change” who gave birth to South Africa’s modern labour movement. But he was not one of its beneficiaries. His death marks the passing of the era of the ‘labouring man’ – those industrial workers who were involved largely in manual labour, denied much formal education but stood for worker solidarity.

A working man’s life under apartheid

Makhoba’s life story illustrates the transition of established organised labour, from the voice of the dispossessed production worker struggling for recognition, to the relatively well protected suburban worker of today. He also represents the losers in the new South Africa, showing how inequality is consistently produced and reproduced. It tells the story of dreams lost and the need to recover the vision of a disappearing generation.

The stories of these working men and women has long been overshadowed by the big men and women of the successful struggle for democracy. Fortunately Makhoba lived to see the republication, in 2018, of his autobiography, The Story of One Tells the Struggle of All: Metalworkers under Apartheid . His story prefigures what has happened both locally and globally, namely how organised factory- and mine-based manual labour became sidelined by both advances in technology and the rise of neoliberalism.

We first met Makhoba, a foundry worker on the East Rand, now Ekhuruleni, nearly 40 years ago while researching the changing world of work in the metal industry. This archetypal, barrel-chested ‘labouring man’ poured molten metal to mould machine parts long before health and safety was taken seriously.

Alongside so many of his compatriots, he had migrated from his rural home in the “ Bantustan ” of KwaZulu to perform the toughest jobs that demanded physical strength and industrial discipline. “Bantustans” were the then mainly rural, undeveloped areas were black people were required to live under apartheid.

Seen as an unskilled “cast boy” under apartheid, Makhoba was paid considerably less than the white “supervisors” he had trained. “That made me angry,” he said at the time.

I don’t get the money he is getting, but I am supposed to be his teacher! How can a clever man be taught by a stupid man like myself?

Throughout his working life Makhoba oscillated between town and countryside. He lived in the sprawling single sex hostel complex for black male migrant workers in Vosloorus, to the east of Johannesburg, a bus drive from his workplace. He was deeply dissatisfied with the filthy conditions in the hostel and the lack of privacy, with 16 men to a room and not much better than the mine compounds and concrete bunks these hostels had replaced. Men had to cook after a long day’s work and travel. Theft was rife and excessive drinking and violent assaults marked the weekends.

Accompanying this sense of deprivation was the resigned acceptance of being unable to live a normal social life. Of greatest concern for Makhoba was going home to Mahlabathini, only to find the decline of parental authority. This affected him deeply.

When a man comes home there is no respect for him anymore, because he has been away from home for such a long time.

It is not surprising then that in July 1979 Makhoba joined a fledgling metal union at the time, later to become the National Union of Metal Workers of South Africa . He said:

I joined the union because workers are not treated like human beings by management, but like animals.

The men who joined the union came from similar districts in KwaZulu and elsewhere and shared the rigours of hostel life. They were, in other words, rooted in networks of mutual support.

Although Makhoba had been working in the city intermittently for 20 years when we first met him, his cultural world was shaped by his rural values:

I work here, but my spirit is in Mahlabathini. My spirit is there because I come from the countryside. I was born there and my father was born there.

In 1983 he was dismissed from the foundry for participating in an illegal strike. Following episodic periods of temporary employment, he returned home permanently.

Deprivations of rural life

In 1991 we tracked him down to his homestead on a mountain top in Mahlabathini. He had acquired 15 head of cattle, ten from the ilobolo (bride price) of his two oldest daughters.

Fifteen people – his wife and 14 children – lived with him in the six rondavels of his neatly swept homestead where he had access to land on which he grew maize and some vegetables.

But a closer examination of this household revealed a sad reality: Mandlenkosi’s home was a picturesque version of a rural slum. The children spent their days doing household chores, chopping firewood and collecting water twice daily from the local stream half a kilometre away. Their diet, except on special occasions, was confined to mealie meal and they often faced hunger.

As the children matured and moved away, Makhoba suffered increasingly poor health. Unable to continue working at a local store, the lack of food intensified. As he drifted into the long autumn of his life, suffering with Parkinson’s disease, the family had become too poor to farm their land. The hopes of yesteryear, of a new start and a new, better society, had become “a dream”.

The inequality in life-chances that shaped Mandlenkosi’s life continues as his children are part of the growing millions of marginalised workers eking out an existence in the rural slums and informal settlements of our urban areas.

Meanwhile, today Cosatu is largely a home for relatively privileged public sector workers, a third of whom have post high school qualifications and 40% have professional jobs . Production in the foundry where Makhoba once worked is now largely robotised.

With many of the manual jobs disappearing, it is farewell to the traditional labouring man as the precarious worker of the digital age is ushered in.

• Neoliberalism
• Trade unions
• inequality in South Africa
• Digital era
• wage discrimination
• Labour reform
• Workers' rights
• Manual work
• Urban informal settlements

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Reflections on the black consciousness movement and the South African revolution - Selby Semela, Sam Thompson and Norman Abraham

A situationist-influenced text decribing how a protest by Soweto school students in 1976 spread and became a country-wide revolt - involving mass workers' strikes and violent confrontations that shook the foundations of white South Africa. Written as a collaboration between an American and two South Africans, the text also deals with the rise and fall of the Black Consciousness Movement.

Originally published in August 1979 c/o p.o. box 4644, Berkeley, CA 94704, USA [address presumably obsolete]

From the endangeredphoenix.com website

=============

Reflections on the Black Consciousness Movement and the South African Revolution

by Selby Semela, Sam Thompson & Norman Abraham

[b]The 1976/77 Insurrection[/b]

“The school for the oppressed is a revolution!” - Soweto pamphlet, 1976

The manner in which the violent uprisings that swept South Africa in 1976/77 have been defined by the international spectacular society and its pseudo-opposition exposes their willful determination to misinterpret, misrepresent, and misunderstand what was a decisive event in the history of proletarian struggle in that country. Everything emanating from established circles - from the Nat regime in South Africa to the racist white man or woman on a Johannesburg street and from the African National Congress and the Pan Africanist Congress (ANC and PAC) to pseudo-oppositional leftists the world over - has not only undermined but also distorted the events that occurred in South Africa. For a start; what happened in South Africa cannot be encapsulated in alienated notions of time and space. It was not isolated to June of 1976. It was not restricted to Soweto. It was not merely the act of students. Nor was it simply a revolt, rebellion or unrest. It was creative revolution in the making, in the desperately clear moment of confrontation.

The events that shook the entire edifice of white South Africa, and threw into stark relief the notion of total revolution, began with relative inconspicuousness. A group of Soweto junior high school students at a single school protested the use of Afrikaans (the official language of the oppressors) as a medium of instruction. The revolt of high school students against the enforcement of learning in the Boer language was significant in itself. It marked, from the outset, a highly advanced struggle to the extent that it was a rejection of the colonisation of consciousness which triggered off the insurrection, even when so many other material reasons for resistance existed.

Initially, however, the Soweto student protest followed the traditional defeatist lines of oppositional politics: the students boycotted classes. But in a community such as Soweto, where any contestation immediately brings down upon itself the entire repressive apparatus, symbolic protest cannot be contained to the symbol, but must overflow into the realm of real struggle. For a community that is all too well acquainted with lumpen criminality and with unrelenting brutality on a daily basis, violence is always a ready-at-hand implement to pit against the contradictions of daily life. The striking students were no exception. Not for them the “ponderous” problem of morality and constraint. A teacher who ignored student demands was stabbed by screwdriver-wielding youths. Police were stoned. Two government officials were killed by a young man from Soweto.

In a matter of days the students had gained the support of their parents, and had coerced the teachers into backing their demands. The authorities still refused to concede. Afrikaans remained as a medium of instruction.

At this point the confrontation between the students and the state (in the institutionalised form of the school) was contained to, at the most, a handful of campuses. How was the transformation made so that these grievances ignited the fury of all black South Africa? Those who sought the answer in the form of an effective and extensive centralised organization - be they the South African state on the search for scapegoats, or the international humanitarian conscience on the search for superstars - were in for a rude surprise. (Eventually the South African state was able to fabricate its scapegoats whom the international opposition were then able to turn into superstars. Thus symbiotically, the state and its pseudo-opposition succeeded in fooling themselves and almost everybody else except the real participants in the struggle, by recreating the events that began on June 16, in their own image.)

But there were no leaders - only a handful of militant individuals (prior to June 16), inspired by their frustration in the face of unyielding authority, who with the help of friends set out to organise something, the content of which, let alone the consequences, they were in no position to anticipate.

A group of students from Orlando West Junior High School - the first school to boycott classes - and some of their friends from other schools such as Morris Isaacson High School - as yet unaffected by the Afrikaans issue - arranged a general demonstration in protest of the state’s design to use the language of the oppressor as a language of instruction.

Once again the tactics, the form of protest - a demonstration - was a symbolic one, albeit more dangerous, since demonstrations of any kind in South Africa are, by statute, punishable offences. The organisers of the demonstration - the embryo of a later-to-be self-proclaimed leadership - proceeded to visit all local schools to gather support.

The response of the Soweto students who attended that demon­stration on June 16 far exceeded the expectations of the organisers. As opposed to the anticipated couple of thousand demonstrators expected by the organisers, about 30,000 students gathered at Orlando West High School.

The placards carried by those gathered already portended things to come. There were slogans not only denouncing Afrikaans and Bantu Education, but such slogans as: “Power”, “Smash the system,” “Away with Vorster”, “We’ll fight until total liberation.”

In festive mood the students took their protest to the streets. Inevitably they were confronted by the brute force of the South African state, who, by ruse of history, understood the implications of the students’ actions even more clearly than most of the students themselves were able to at that time. Without warning the police opened fire on the singing and marching students. The students at the front of the procession began to retreat, but their flight was halted by the act of one person. One young woman stood her ground, then defiantly walked towards the police shouting: “Shoot me!” Inspired by this incredible act - so incredible that the police did not shoot—the students’ retreat turned into a regroupment and frenzied counterattack. Rocks were torn from the ground and hurled at the police. After a second volley of shots had left more students dead and wounded, the leadership suddenly reappeared, in the form of one Tsietsi Mashinini, who stood up on an overturned vehicle and exhorted his fellow students to disperse. He was promptly forced to scuttle when the students turned their rocks on him. While the leadership was thus “left in the bush part three,” so was their newfound style of contestation—demonstration; for the students did disperse, not to seek refuge at home from “inevitable” suicide, as the self-proclaimed leadership had urged, but to rampage through the streets of Soweto in a potlatch of destruction.

Within days spontaneous rioting had broken out in every major area of the country. The South African blacks launched a vicious attack on apartheid, commodities and state power. The original grievance was quickly superseded, not because it was insignificant, but because the extremity of the insurrection put everything else in question along with it.

By August 1976, the white state was being forced to retreat on all fronts.

• Almost all schools had been attacked and many had been burnt down. The students were in almost daily confrontation with the police.

• Almost every beerhall in the black townships had been razed to the ground.

• Collaborators within the townships had been severely attacked. Not a single “respectable” black community figure was able to come forward as mediator.

• High school students and young “ex-thugs” prevented workers from going to work in Johannesburg, threatening taxi-drivers, blocking trains and sabotaging railroads. Workers quickly responded, and even after coercion had abated, strikes in Johannesburg and in Cape Town were 80 - 100% effective. Some of the workers who went to work went, not because they were intimidated by the system, but in order to sabotage white-owned technology and commodities.

• Coloureds and Indians had been drawn into the struggle, thus bridging an historical gap among the oppressed that had existed for generations.

• The Bophutatswana (a government-created black “homeland”) houses of parliament had been razed to the ground. All government appointed black leaders were in danger of losing their lives. Many lost their houses.

• Numerous black policemen had fled the townships. Several were killed. After nightfall one-time “lumpen criminals” joined with students and workers to attend to community needs.

• The worker stay-aways drew the adult population into the struggle. Before then they would leave to work in the white cities in the early morning and return after nightfall, while the students squared off against the state. During the stay-aways, the workers were drawn into the confrontation, being forced by the sheer magnitude of the bitter struggle to join the youth in their battle against the system.

For the remainder of 1976 and through to June of 1977, violence continued across the country. Within four months of June 16, about two hundred black communities had been swept along by the tide of revolution. Major areas like Soweto, Guguletu, New Brighton, etc, are still shaken at times by new revolts.

Let the moralists and the humanitarians pretend the students were always peace-loving, and mere victims of the violence. The events in South Africa have exploded that insipid myth. In a situation in which state violence is institutionalised on such an overwhelming scale, one affirms one’s humanity not by “turning the other cheek” and suffering with dignity, but by willfully and consciously accepting one’s share of violence and by understanding that brute systematic force can only be destroyed by the creative violence of the masses.

In June 1977 the executive of a student organisation, whose credibility as a vanguard emerged out of the hero and/or agitator seeking of the South African press, was detained by the South African police. The recent trial of these individuals along with a great many others of the same type are important to note, for by means of these sham efforts of justice the South African state has attempted to delineate in time a quasi-official ending to the period of open class struggle in South Africa. The logic is: arrest the leaders, arrest the revolution . This official self-delusion of the state is mimicked by many of its opponents in exile. The exile’s lament, in spite of his real anguish and homesickness, his glum belief that “the revolution has been suppressed again,” is pitifully vacuous. It is designed only to convince his listeners that despite his present passivity he remains committed to a struggle in which his past participation is often very dubious anyway.

But the struggle has not been suppressed as is witnessed by the consistent reports of unrest and sporadic violence in the South African press. Such events underline the ongoing ferment that sustains the revolutionary spirit from day to day throughout South Africa.

The Soweto Students Representative Council

“The repulsive absurdity of certain hierarchies and the fact that the whole strength of commodities is directed blindly and automatically towards their protection, leads us to see that every hierarchy is absurd.” - Situationist International, The Decline and Fall of the Spectacular Commodity Economy (1965)

If any organisation had grounds on which to ascribe itself a vanguard role in the 1976/77 period of the struggle, it was the Soweto Students Representative Council (SSRC). The SSRC, which emerged from the zealous superstar scouting of the South African press more than anything else, has since then laid firm claim to the dubious honour of the avant-garde party. Internationally this claim has been contested by the old spinster/huckster organisations: the African National Congress (ANC), the Communist Party of South Africa (CPSA), and the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC). At home in South Africa, and among exiles in Botswana, Lesotho and Swaziland, the bidding of the old league nationalist-Stalinists have largely fallen on deaf ears. Unfortunately not so the pretensions of the careerists who were one-time leaders of the SSRC and who now parade under the title of the “Third Force”. There are many exiled students who seem quite contented to submit to the spectacle of their self-styled leadership and titillate themselves with the memory of their past participation in the struggle. Too bad for those in search of a shepherd that the hunt for a vanguard party will only find a fleeting shadow.

As for the leadership of the “Third Force,” it is one of the most hideous hierarchical freaks ever spawned by revolutionary experience, and history has never been lacking in grotesque examples. Concocted in the fashion of a passively consumable item, at a time when its later consumers were far from idle, it had to wait for exile before it could raise its ugly head. From outside South Africa the “Third Force” has joined the ANC and PAC in perpetuating the self-same myths that have always crippled proletarian struggle, and even indulges in the same ruthless and coercive tactics when it comes to dealing with others who do not subscribe to its own stupidity, and when it comes to expanding its tiny ranks.

The SSRC grew out of an organisation known as the South African Students Movement (SASM), although its relation to that organisation was extremely dubious. In the heat of the first week of the uprisings, a number of the earlier coordinators of the June 16 demonstration, wanting to lend legitimacy to their claims of leadership, hijacked the controls of the Black Consciousness Movement (BCM) organisation, SASM, from its elected executives who were based in Cape Town.

How could an open struggle that raged for almost two years, and spread the length and breadth of the country, involving at least two hundred cities or towns and hundreds of thousands of active participants, have been under the control of an ad hoc committee that only emerged full-fledged in August, almost two months after June 16, and a fortnight or so before its first self-appointed leadership went into exile?

All revolutionary history shows the part played in the defeat of popular struggle by the appearance of an ideology advocating popular struggle. Within the BCM the ideology of “mass action” lay latent almost from the start. With the uprisings that began in Soweto, the ideology of “mass action” found the SSRC as its vehicle and came to the fore. The black proletariat’s spontaneous organisation of its struggle assured its early successes; but this gave way to a second phase in which the “fifth column” worked from the inside in the form of the SSRC as the vanguard movement. The mass movement sacrificed its reality for the shadow of its defeat.

Even though the SSRC did have widespread support amongst the Soweto high school students and gained international recognition, to justify it on the strength of its allegiance is to miss the point. Popularity of a hierarchical organisation does not condone the organisation, but exposes the degree to which the consciousness of its supporters has been colonised.

The most important point to recognise is that the SSRC owed its reputation to the very organisation of South African daily life, to institutions compatible with apartheid and the white state, which the proletariat in action was out to destroy. It was the press that gave it a name both literally and metaphorically. It was an intellectually intimidated community both at home and abroad which was highly susceptible to advertisable commodities that gave it pride of place on the stage of revolution.

Inside Soweto the SSRC’s ability to stabilise itself and to advance its vanguard aspirations at the very time that the struggle intensified, and when all other organisations were key Black Consciousness organisations (ANC and PAC having all but disappeared), is not testimony to its indispensability. On the contrary in Soweto the SSRC enjoyed a deep degree of very bourgeois respectability, being recognised by moderates (who highly condemned the folly of the struggle), as the only visible and legal organ still operable, and which seemed to be the only possible starting point for some sort of detente. High ranking officials in the South African Police shared the same opinion.

A concrete example of the SSRC’s moderation is to be found in one of its press releases in October, 1976. In this statement the SSRC leadership condemned anonymous leaflefts which had been circulated in Soweto and which incited people to violence. Small wonder that as a result senior police officers in Johannesburg as much as thanked the SSRC for its collaboration, when the police issued a press statement immediately afterwards, in which they said that they felt that the township would be peaceful and law-abiding because the SSRC had repudiated the leaflets.

In acknowledging its authority, the police confirmed the SSRC’s legitimacy. To be legitimised by one’s immediate enemy is a sure sign of one’s fundamental conciliation.

A look at the organisational structure of the SSRC is helpful in that it exposes with clarity the alienated and stultified social relations that characterised the “vanguard of Soweto.” The self-appointed executive, dictatorially controlled by its chairman, deliberately distanced itself from its supporters until a group of several students under the chairman’s direct control were elevated to the position of national leaders. The more their reputation grew, even amongst the students themselves, the less they participated in the struggle. Their activities revolved around the traditional and banal specialisations of the administrative and the propagandistic, while the masses they pretended to lead were out on the streets in their thousands. Where the leadership avoids the line of battle, its claim as supreme leaders rebounds invariably upon itself in the form of ridicule at its own cowardice. Not surprising then that the great SSRC leadership steers its bastard “party” from the safe helm of the Nigerian state.

In exile there are a barrage of students who in many cases have fled hot from the struggle at home. Everywhere they are captives of the ideologies of the world their revolution has demanded they destroy. There are those who have joined the old liberation organisations and sit in army camps in Stalinist countries throughout the world, being fed the cynical lie of a victorious return. There are those who still pay obeisance to the superficial power of the SSRC. They are merely museum pieces in different museums, all marked “revolutionary.” Everywhere revolutionaries, but what has happened to the revolution? Everywhere the same alienation is preponderate, everywhere the spectacular consumption of ideology, everywhere obedience to hierarchy and the veneration of the past. To hell with the ideological variations, and the different names and faces. Under all the rhetoric there is nothing.

For those students who have evaded the pitfalls of those of their peers who have made their unhappy ways into the voracious jaws of either ANC, PAC, or Third Force, there awaits another odious misconception—the pitiful glorification and mimicry of the defeated revolutionary projects of the past. Once courageous participants in their own revolutionary history, they now content themselves with being dazzled by the pseudo-revolutionary glitter of the revolutions that have been lost, invariably in dedication to the solid temple of names radical—Lenin, Trotsky, Mao, Guevara, Cabral and all the rest.

Black Consciousness and the Black Consciousness Movement

Ever since June, 1976, much has been said of the Black Consciousness Movement (BCM).

The more perceptive, less dogmatic cretins of the left, who ever-predictably impute vanguard explanations to every struggle, have used BCM as a surrogate vanguard to explain the events of 1976/77, seeing that there is not a single established party which could credibly fit the bill. Some even go so far as to blame the continued existence of the whole South African state on the fact that BCM was not sufficiently elitist, professional, organised: bureaucratic. Some take the opposite tack, and announce the BCM’s vagueness as its greatest virtue: it is promoted in the image of a non-sectarian proletarian base up for grabs on the market of international constituencies.

It is high time that the miserable use to which the BCM has been put ever since 1976/77 be put to an end, that justice be done to its achievements. Which is to say, the BCM’s shortcomings must now be criticized pitilessly . Its principal contribution to the struggle in South Africa is, at this point in time, mere dead weight; the more it is eulogised, the more a critical analysis of an experience laden with revolutionary lessons is suppressed. It is not enough to heap shit on the self-serving actions of those who praise it and of the exiles who continue to act in its name: the ideas and the activities that gave Black Consciousness and the BCM their life must be held responsible for allowing room for all the post-1977 BCM bullshit.

The main accomplishment of Black Consciousness had very little to do with elaborating the necessary goals and methods of the South African revolution; its main accomplishment was much more to leave in the dust the false goals and methods of the struggles of the forties and fifties, and at the same time to expose the ineefectual strategies of the traditional “liberation” organisations.

Because of the conditions forced upon it by the state, Black Consciousness deliberately side-stepped the whole question of what in fact its goals were. Pronouncing itself as revolutionary could serve no purpose other than to bring down the wrath of the police. To openly favour violence, or to attempt to lead people into any direct confrontation with the state could only have led to failure. On the other hand, although BCM claimed itself to be non­violent, it did not engage in the impotent acts of civil disobedience practiced in a previous generation by the ANC and PAC (as well as by the American civil rights movement). “Non-violence” was simply a means of self-defence; it certainly was not a strategy, as is shown by any perusal of Black Consciousness literature, which constantly stresses the absurdity of expecting any significant changes by the state in response to moral pressure.

Organisationally, Black Consciousness took the entire logic of Leninism - the “enlightened” party (“theory”) and the passive base (“practice”) - and turned it upside-down. Everything was staked on the activity of the masses at the level of their everyday life. This was extremely ingenious and absolutely necessary: not only as a means of self-defence against the State, which would, as a matter of course, seek out and destroy the leadership of any “revolutionary” group, but for the advance of the struggle itself.

As an organisational framework, the BCM had only one practical goal: the popularisation of the philosophy of Black Consciousness, either by word or by practical example. What is at the core of this philosophy? That the individual black man must recognise clearly his situation, overcome his intimidation, and decide upon his own solution . That in other words he put himself in a position where he has no need for an organisation.

The political groups that came into being out of Black Consciousness—most significantly the Black People’s Convention (BPC), South African Students Organisation (SASO), South Afri­can Students Movement (SASM), Black Allied Workers Union (BAWU), Black Community Programmes (BCP)—expressed the fundamental absurdity of vanguard organisation in South Africa—and in fact are a concrete case of the reality of avant-garde organisations in general. As organisations, these groups had no reason for existence other than to exist. They had no role to play as mediators between the masses and Power (the South African white rulers don’t negotiate with blacks), and in any case rejected that role. They had no role as mediators between theory and practice because they did not really have a theory—or, if you will, their theory was that the theory of struggle is made by those in struggle, not by a leadership elite. They took up the role of mediators against mediation.

The BCM did not really break with the logic of an hierarchical, avant-garde type organisation, but simply put off the question because of national circumstances. This is evident in the umbrella structure of the Black Consciousness Movement. While dealing with the “unorganised” blacks, the BCM heralded the individual ; but when dealing in organisational terms, it put forward the ideology of the federation of autonomous organisations . A distinct hierarchy of those “organised” and those unorganised is implied. For those who are unorganised, the essential referent is “the system’ But when one becomes organised, the referent becomes a matter of building the organisation. The organisation does not spring from a determined agreement of individuals on common activity, from defining what is really organizable in their activity, but rather acts to publicise itself—the organisation.

Black Consciousness, defined in as really broad and really vague terms as it was, had run, from the start, the risk of becoming an apologist for all the actions taken by those who claimed to be a part of it: stooges like Nthatho Motlana and Gatsha Buthelezi still pose as Black Consciousness advocates to legitimise their cam­paigns for better scraps at the white man’s trough. At the time when the best of Black Consciousness theory was put into practice in the streets (and when the BCM organisations were left in the dust) - 1976/77 - the use of Black Consciousness as an apologia for specialists became the rule rather than the exception. The movement which claimed to have “analysed, assessed and defined the black community’s needs, aspirations, ideals and goals” was never so stagnant as in the period when the black South African community was starting to do these things for itself .

Certainly, the point is not - according to the faded leninist dream - that the BCM was not there in 1976/77 to “lead” the struggle. Nor is the point that certain BCM members did not make important contributions in the struggle itself: some undeniably did (though one has seen in this and the preceding chapter the quality of the contributions made by others!) The point is rather that when it came to analysis, the remaining spokesmen of the BCM showed themselves capable of originality only in the sense of choosing which clichés most gloriously describe the struggle and their own participation in it. Nationalism re-emerged, less as a developed ideology, than out of wholesale approval of everything done by their black countrymen. Criticism of all but the most obvious targets — whites and sell-outs — became scarcer than three-­legged dogs.

The conspicuous decline of the BCM into isolated groups of radical cheerleaders did not stem from a sudden eclipse of intelligence, and even less from the absence of things to criticize, analyse and precise. Rather, it stemmed from the fact that a radical analysis of conditions by the black proletariat in action necessarily implied the correction of numerous aspects—theoretical as well as practical — of Black Consciousness itself ; and it was precisely before the critique of its own house that Black Consciousness trembled.

With the visible return of open struggle to South Africa, Black Consciousness was confronted with the choice of either shattering its entire petrified organisational edifice or of denying that this organisational edifice was both an edifice and was petrified. Faced with the amazing capacity of the masses for spontaneous organisation the BCM chose the alternative of presenting the movement in the streets as though it was simply an adjunct to the Black Consciousness Movement, with a capital “M” for movement. The distinction between BCM leaders and the masses—a distinction made in practice by the BCM leaders—was concealed by pretending that everyone who acted intelligently in struggle was an honorary leader of a “movement” which had been left behind. The real history made by the masses was hierarchically accorded a substitute history — the history of mass support for the BCM; and it was this substitute history that the partisans of BCM proclaimed as the black proletariat’s essence and truth. “Mass support,” the BCM’s own corrective to hierarchical leadership, in fact became a rubric by which the really hierarchical leaders of the BCM affirmed their success and their authority in just about everything. This “success” and “authority” became an abstract standard for measuring all struggle .

Thus the Black Consciousness Movement found a refuge in the myth of its power, which was inversely proportional to its practical effectiveness. The further it became separated from practical contestation, the more important the myth became. The BCM never claimed to be a monolithic organisation; in actuality it was premised on the fact that it was not a monolithic organisation. The myth that Black Consciousness incorporated the activity of every rebellious black South African was exactly what became the semantic substitute for the monolithic organisation toward which the BCM logically tended, but whose inevitable symptoms of stultification the BCM leadership was sophisticated enough to want to avoid for as long as possible.

In mid-1979, however, the tireless bureaucratic work-mules in various BCM bureaucracies, realising that the ideology of mass support could no longer suffice now that the organisations were banned in South Africa and visibly decaying in exile, steered the BCM to its logical conclusion. The reality of organisation as a substitute for real struggle could no longer be diffused, and instead was affirmed openly. The BCM was made into an official liberation movement, with headquarters in Gaberones, and chapters in London, Bonn and New York. And the ideological raison d’etre for its existence? To mediate, but not in a traditional leninist style, but rather in the wishy-washy fashion of a UN peace-keeping force. To mediate not between theory and practice, or between the masses and power, but to mediate between the ANC and the PAC. From the sublime to the most absolute form of cretinism! All the worms have crawled out of the corpse. The BCM’s official proclamation as an organisation spells out unfailingly that in its true colours as ideology and hierarchy, it is an enemy of real black proletarian struggle in South Africa.

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After Apartheid: Reflecting on South Africa 20 Years Later

Per-Anders Pettersson began documenting South Africa in 1994 when the country entered its first free elections that made Nelson Mandela its president. His Latest book Rainbow Transit (Dewi Lewis, 2013) looks back at the hopeful yet turbulent times of a country undergoing an epic transition. Pettersson’s work will appear in TIME’s commemorative edition celebrating Mandela and here, the photographer shares about the work in his own words:

For South Africa, democracy was a hard-won freedom. Its rewards came alongside a soaring violent-crime rate, disease, poverty and massive unemployment. I first went to South Africa in the spring of 1994 to cover the election won by Nelson Mandela; I stayed for two decades to document a nation in transition.

Places like Soweto are changing rapidly because of massive investments through private and public funding. Its residents travel to and from work via upgraded taxi stations. They shop in upmarket malls, go to the movies, visit world-class theaters. South Africa’s policies of black economic empowerment reaped astonishing wealth for a new black elite and saw the rapid emergence of a black middle class.

But during the second decade, greed and disillusion began to smother this hope. In these photographs, I sought to portray the heady sense I felt of a latter-day gold rush, the energy and the optimism often forgotten.

Per-Anders Pettersson , born in Sweden, is an award-winning photojournalist based in South Africa.

Rainbow Transit was published by Dewi Lewis .

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Home — Essay Samples — History — Contemporary History — Apartheid

Essays on Apartheid

Choosing apartheid essay topics.

When it comes to writing an essay on Apartheid, choosing the right topic is crucial. Apartheid was a dark period in South Africa's history, and there are numerous aspects of this topic that can be explored in an essay. Whether you are a history student, a social science student, or simply interested in learning more about this important part of history, choosing the right essay topic is essential for a successful and engaging piece of writing.

The Importance of the Topic

Understanding the impact and legacy of Apartheid is crucial for anyone seeking to understand not only the history of South Africa, but also the ongoing struggle for equality and justice around the world. Apartheid was a system of institutionalized racial segregation and discrimination that had far-reaching effects on the people of South Africa and beyond. Exploring Apartheid in an essay can help shed light on the historical, social, and political complexities of this era, and help foster a deeper understanding of the ongoing fight for racial equality and social justice.

Choosing a Topic

When choosing a topic for your Apartheid essay, it is important to consider both your interests and the specific requirements of your assignment. You may want to focus on a particular aspect of Apartheid, such as its impact on education, healthcare, politics, or culture. Alternatively, you could explore the legacy of Apartheid and its impact on contemporary South Africa. No matter what topic you choose, be sure to conduct thorough research and consider different perspectives to provide a comprehensive analysis of the subject.

Recommended Essay Topics

Impacts of apartheid.

• The impact of Apartheid on education in South Africa
• The effects of Apartheid on healthcare and public health in South Africa
• The role of Apartheid in shaping the political landscape of South Africa

Legacy of Apartheid

• The ongoing effects of Apartheid on contemporary South Africa
• The role of Apartheid in shaping race relations in South Africa today
• The impact of Apartheid on South African culture and identity
• Examining the Lasting Effects of Apartheid in South Africa
• The Economic Ramifications of Apartheid in South Africa
• The Psychological Impact of Apartheid on South Africa

Resistance and Activism

• The role of key figures in the resistance against Apartheid
• The impact of international activism and solidarity in the fight against Apartheid
• The legacy of Apartheid-era activism in contemporary social justice movements

Comparative Analysis

• Comparing Apartheid to other forms of institutionalized discrimination and segregation
• Analyzing the similarities and differences between Apartheid and other historical instances of racial oppression
• Exploring the global impact of Apartheid and its connections to other movements for social justice

These are just a few examples of the many directions you can take when writing an essay on Apartheid. No matter which topic you choose, be sure to approach it with sensitivity, respect, and a commitment to understanding and addressing the complex historical and social issues at hand.

Remember to engage with a variety of sources, including academic articles, primary documents, and personal narratives, to provide a well-rounded and comprehensive analysis of your chosen topic. By choosing a topic that is both meaningful to you and relevant to the broader historical and social context, you can create a compelling and informative Apartheid essay that contributes to a deeper understanding of this important period in history.

The Way Apartheid Affected South Africa

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The Role of Nelson Mandela in The Fight Against Apartheid

Apartheid as a racial socialism in south africa, the influence of colonisation and apartheid on black african communities, opposition to apartheid in the years 1948-1959 was unsuccessful, let us write you an essay from scratch.

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Opportunity to Lead in World of No Conflict

Comparative analysis of gaza and south african apartheid, depiction of south africa during apartheid in master harold and the boys by athol fugard, memories about apartheid in native nostalgia by jacob dlamini, apartheid's policy regarding the language issue in african education.

1948 - early 1990s

South Africa, South West Africa (Namibia)

Apartheid is an Afrikaans word meaning "separateness." Apartheid was a system sanctioned by law, of racial segregation in South Africa and South West Africa (Namibia) from 1948 until the early 1990s.

Sanctioned racial segregation was widely practiced in South Africa before 1948. In 1948, the Afrikaner National Party won the general election and extended the policy that called "apartheid." As result, non-white South Africans would be forced to live in separate areas from whites and use separate public facilities. Apartheid laws remained in effect for the better part of 50 years.

Through the Population Registration Act of 1950, South African population was classified as either Bantu (all Black Africans), Coloured (those of mixed race), or white and a fourth category, Asian which was added later.

The Promotion of Bantu Self-Government Act of 1959 created 10 Bantu homelands known as Bantustans, that were designated by the white-dominated government of South Africa as pseudo-national homelands for the country’s Black African population during the 20th century. From 1961 to 1994, more than 3.5 million people were transfered in the Bantustans.

One of the first and most violent demonstrations against apartheid happened in Sharpeville on March 21, 1960. The police opened fire on a group of unarmed blacks and killed about 69 Black Africans and wounded many more.

Nelson Mandela, leader of the movement to end South African apartheid. In 1944, Mandela joined the African National Congress (ANC) and became a leader of Johannesburg’s youth wing of the ANC. In 1961, he was arrested for treason, and although acquitted he was arrested again in 1962. In June 1964, he was sentenced to life in prison. F.W. de Klerk freed Nelson Mandela on February 11, 1990. A few years later, Mandela was elected South Africa’s president.

The United Nations General Assembly had denounced apartheid in 1973. In 1985, the United Kingdom and United States imposed economic sanctions on the country. De Klerk’s government repealed the Population Registration Act and the other legislation that formed the legal basis for apartheid.

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Antisemitism Accusations Against Staff Pose Dilemma for School Leaders

Republicans have pressed educators to fire employees who they say crossed lines. But school leaders say that legal, political and union considerations complicate matters.

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By Troy Closson

Throughout a series of congressional hearings about what public schools and universities are doing to combat antisemitism, Republicans keep hammering school leaders on one question.

Why haven’t they fired educators accused of antisemitism?

The accusations have come during a wave of demonstrations and discussions about the Israel-Hamas war on the campuses of public schools and universities. The Republicans leading the hearings have argued that school administrators have not done enough to discipline employees whose behavior they say has crossed from protected free speech into antisemitic hate speech and harassment.

But even defining what sorts of activities and speech are antisemitic is also hotly debated, including among Jewish families and organizations.

School leaders have had a variety of responses. Some have promised to crack down on individuals, by name, while others have refused to provide any information about employee discipline.

At one of the hearings at the Capitol this month, the New York City schools chief repeatedly leaned on one legal phrase: due process.

“We do not have the authority — just because I disagree — to just terminate someone,” the chancellor, David C. Banks, said. “That’s not the way it works in our school system.”

The different approaches by public school and college administrators, both to congressional questioning and to the discipline itself, are a reflection of how discipline has become one of the thorniest challenges for schools trying to navigate tensions over the Israel-Hamas war.

As complaints rack up over teachers who promote protests or professors who spar with students online, leaders have been thrust into a deeply charged issue touching on a complex web of concerns. Among them are gray areas of free speech rules, employees’ union rights and heated debates over contested phrases like “from the river to the sea.”

To some Jewish students and parents, administrators are not doing enough to reprimand or even get rid of employees who they say are allowing hostile views toward Jews to fester in classrooms and lecture halls. Yet to some Arab and Muslim families, many leaders have gone too far, infringing on educators’ rights and unevenly enforcing the rules about what warrants discipline.

The tension over discipline is likely to re-emerge on the national stage later this month, when the presidents of three more universities, Rutgers, Northwestern and the University of California, Los Angeles, become the next to testify in Washington.

When asked by Republicans about individual professors at a hearing last month, Columbia University’s president, Nemat Shafik, divulged that two were under investigation for making “discriminatory remarks.”

One of them, who described the Hamas-led attack on Israel as a “resistance offensive” in an article, would never work at the school again, she said.

Nine days later, the university’s senate accused the administration of having breached professors’ due process rights and their privacy.

“These actions show little respect for clearly established protocols,” read a resolution approved by the senate.

The Columbia leader’s approach before Congress stood in stark contrast to the testimony of public school leaders at a separate hearing. The Berkeley Unified School District superintendent, Enikia Ford Morthel, repeatedly declined to share even broad details of punitive measures taken against district employees, noting that California has strict confidentiality rules that govern personnel details.

The contrasting playbooks were in part a reflection of the chasm between the legal and professional standards for public school districts and higher education institutions. While most professors are granted broad rights to academic freedom, schoolteachers are far more constrained in their choice of lessons, as well as in their speech as public employees.

Some episodes have centered on clearer cases of explicit hate speech or antisemitic tropes . But many revolve around more nuanced situations, such as how teachers have discussed the war in history and social studies courses, or how their political behavior — such as helping to organize a walkout to call for a cease-fire in Gaza — may influence students’ views.

In Berkeley, for example, the Brandeis Center, a Jewish civil rights group, filed a complaint earlier this year, arguing in part that the district had “refused” to discipline teachers, including some who framed the Hamas attack as “resistance” or called Israel an “apartheid state” in their classrooms.

Rachel Lerman, the center’s vice chair and general counsel, said that many Jewish families feel like if another group were to face similar targeting in schools, “we would see results.”

“It’s not about silencing speech,” Ms. Lerman said. “It’s about what’s appropriate in the classroom under the school’s own rules and California’s own laws.”

A confrontation over similar issues unfolded last week when Republicans questioned Mr. Banks, New York City’s schools chief, over why he had reassigned, but not fired, the principal of a high school where students raucously protested a Jewish educator who posted support for Israel on social media.

Mr. Banks repeated that every school employee is entitled to due process. In a strong union town like New York, most teachers and principals are entitled to hearings where they can respond to accusations of misconduct before officials impose discipline, including firing them.

On an issue as sensitive as the Israel-Hamas war, it may be no surprise that some families “may not ever feel the sanction was appropriate,” said Cheryl Logan, a former superintendent in Omaha and expert in educational leadership.

District leaders, though, must strike a delicate balance. “People have private lives,” she said, “and they work in public schools.”

Some states like Massachusetts broadly restrict all public employees from political behavior during work time. A teacher would not be allowed to print pamphlets for a pro-Palestinian demonstration on a school computer, for example, or seek to advance pro-Israel views during class time.

Still, experts said the rules can be murkier for a teacher’s speech online or out of school hours. Many districts have also previously given educators leeway to show support for certain political or social causes, like Black Lives Matter or Ukraine in its war with Russia.

Those issues of what’s permitted merged in a recent dispute in Montgomery County, Md., where the district was sued after it suspended three teachers who used contested language to describe the war in Gaza.

One of the teachers often wore “Free Palestine” buttons to school, and was put on leave after a staff member complained that she had put the contested phrase “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” in the signature of her internal emails to colleagues, according to the suit . Some Jews see the phrase as antisemitic . The teacher viewed it as an “aspirational call to freedom and dignity for the Palestinian people,” the suit said.

Zainab Chaudry, the Maryland director for the Council on American-Islamic Relations, said she worried about a “clear double standard,” in which teachers who support the Palestinian cause do not receive the same due process rights as those who back Israel.

“We’ve never seen this level of suppression of free speech,” she said, adding that one major challenge “is that there are no clear-cut guidelines in terms of what’s acceptable and what’s not.”

Mr. Banks told a congressional subcommittee on education last week that the phrase “from the river to the sea” was not allowed in New York City schools. The New York Civil Liberties Union later said that many educators were unaware of the rule and that it believed a strict ban would most likely be unconstitutional.

As the chancellor testified in Washington, a group of pro-Palestinian teachers held a demonstration on the steps of the city’s Education Department headquarters. Among them was Pam Sporn, a retired teacher in the Bronx who said her mission as an educator was to expose her students to the world.

Ms. Sporn said she often dug “into controversial historical and current issues” in her classroom, and was fortunate to work in schools “where we had that freedom.”

Today, though, she said, “I would be in so much trouble.”

Olivia Bensimon contributed reporting.

Troy Closson reports on K-12 schools in New York City for The Times. More about Troy Closson