Now that the War is Over
Ex-combatants Transition and the Question of Violence:
A literature review

by

Sasha Gear

Violence and Transition Series, 2002.

Sasha Gear is a Researcher in the Criminal Justice Programme at the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation.

Contents Acknowledgements Introduction Chapter One: South Africa's Conflict – Who are the Combatants? Chapter Two: Demobilisation Chapter Three: Militarised Youth: Integration and (lack of) Demobilisation Initiatives for Self-Defence Structures Chapter Four: Demobilisation, Conflict and Related Instabilities Chapter Five: War-generated Identities as a Potential Source of Conflict and Violence Chapter Six: War Trauma as Potential for Violence Conclusion Notes References

Acknowledgements

Thank you to the following people: Piers Pigou and Craig Higson-Smith for supervision and editing assistance. Barbara English for editing and to Bronwyn Harris, David Macfarlane and Amanda Dissel for your support.

Sally Sealy, Jenny Irish, Tsepe Motumi, Jabu Dada, Kees Kingma, Martinho Chachiua, Jacklyn Cock, Mafole Mokalobe, Pops Mashike, Guy Lamb, Michelle Parlevliet, Ntombi Mosikare, Thandi Shezi, Trudy de Ridder, Janet Cherry and Mikki van Zyl for generously sharing your knowledge in the area.

Colleagues at the CSVR particularly David Bruce, Nokothula Skhosana, Tebogo Mafokoane, Lazarus Kgalema.

Brandon Hamber and Wardie Leppan for your support of the project.

We gratefully acknowledge the International Development Research Centre (IDRC) for the funding that made the study possible.

Introduction

Ex-combatants are often considered to pose a threat to peace and security in countries emerging from extensive violent conflict. Concerns relating to this perception together with fluctuating media attention given to the involvement of individual ex-combatants in violent crime brought about the inclusion of 'ex-combatants' as social category for consideration in the Violence and Transition Project. Despite the haste with which 'ex-combatants' tend to be linked with violence, there is little research in South Africa that sets out to specifically explore either the current situations of the armed actors of our recent history, or their relation to continuing violence. Through a survey of available and related literature this report has attempted to investigate these issues in more depth.

The investigation is structured under the following chapter themes:

South Africa's Conflict – Who are the Combatants?
The violent conflict of South Africa's past gave rise to a large and diverse collection of armed protagonists. This chapter briefly outlines the context in which they took up arms, highlighting some of the key aspects of conflict and the ways in which it has been portrayed. This is followed by a discussion raising the complexities involved in defining precisely who constitutes the 'combatants' of the conflict, and subsequently, its 'ex-combatants'. The heterogeneity of South Africa's militarized actors is then illustrated, and background is provided into some of the armed structures through which they participated in the conflict.

Demobilisation
'Demobilisation' refers to the significant reduction of people employed by military forces and is a key process through which combatants become 'ex-combatants'. It is in relation to demobilisation programmes, that ex-combatants as a social category have received most research attention. This chapter sets out the steps typically involved in the demobilisation of soldiers and explores the related challenge of their 'reintegration' into civilian life. The unfolding of South Africa's formal processes of integrating eight armed forces into a new national defence force, and the demobilisation of thousands of soldiers from this force are outlined.

Militarised Youth: Integration and (Lack) of Demobilisation Initiatives
A minority of the (predominantly young) people who participated in violent conflict through locally based self-defence structures were included in the SANDF integration and demobilisation processes, but most were not. Indeed one of the greatest demobilisation challenges facing South Africa is that of 'militarized youth'. This chapter considers some of the few initiatives that have taken place in attempt to address this challenge. In outlining different approaches, key issues relating to the reintegration of militarized young people are raised. The appropriateness, or not, of their potential integration into local policing structures is also explored.

Demobilisation, Conflict and Violence
Drawing mainly on international literature, this chapter brings together existing analyses of ex-combatants potential for ongoing involvement in violence as well as accounts of the circumstances and manifestations in contexts where this has been reported. The influence on these dynamics of the continued operation of social and economic systems that are generated through the experience of conflict are given particular attention.

War-generated Identities as a Potential Source of Future Conflict and Violence
Studies that focus on the 'making of soldiers' suggest that issues of identity require further investigation, especially in relation to questions of ex-combatant reintegration and participation in future violence. Building on the previous theme, the socialisation of combatants within military structures, the gendered identities developed in these environments and the discourses that support these processes are examined as contributing factors to the potential involvement of ex-combatants in violence.

War Trauma as a Potential Source of Future Violence
Overlapping with the issue of war-generated identities, is war-trauma as a factor in future violence. Increasing evidence suggests that many of South Africa's ex-combatants continue to suffer as a result of their militarized histories and involvement in violent conflict. This chapter outlines some of the trauma-related challenges faced by such ex-combatants as well as reported violent manifestations of unaddressed trauma.

Chapter One: South Africa's Conflict – Who are the Combatants?

The Conflict

That South Africa was in a state of war during the 1980s is no longer contested (Cock, 1991; Ellis, 1998). This was not, however, always the case. Publicly, the apartheid state oscillated in its definitions of the conflict. From the late 1970s the state argued that it was facing a 'total onslaught', masquerading as an anti-apartheid struggle but that was, in reality, masterminded by international communists. For the liberation movement, the conflict arose from a just struggle against a racist and illegitimate minority government. In the context of the 2^nd Cold War and the fact that the liberation movement had indeed turned to the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe and the People's Republic of China for help, the state's depiction of a communist threat provided no more than a veneer of legitimacy to the repressive actions undertaken by the apartheid regime (Ellis, 1998; Steytler, 1990).

In addition, the state criminalised the conflict, describing it as the product of the African National Congress's (ANC's) "terrorist" activities. "Unrest does not make a war. There is a definite difference between terror and war" (Brigadier Stadler in The Star cited in Cock, 1989, p. 16). In 1985 an intelligence document approved by the State Security Council (SSC) found that "there is a consensus over the view that the unrest has developed into a revolutionary struggle". The Council nevertheless agreed that it was not recommended for government to use this language in public (Ellis, 1998, pp. 264, 273). The choice to define the conflict as unrest or terrorism as opposed to "war" meant that liberation movement fighters were denied the prisoner-of-war status granted by the Geneva Protocols of 1977 to those engaged in war against colonial powers (Cock in Cock " Nathan, 1989). Consequently, many captured combatants who could have received prisoner-of-war status and its concomitant protections were tried as ordinary criminals, and/or executed.

South Africans were divided, primarily along racial lines, over the nature of the conflict. White South Africans were generally compliant and seemingly accepted the explanations provided by the state, returning the National Party to power with ever-enlarging parliamentary majorities. Black South Africans, on the other hand, were increasingly the targets of the repressive state machinery and only a handful believed the anti-communist rhetoric and explanations from Pretoria. Interviews conducted between 1986 and 1990 revealed that all black informants considered themselves to be involved in a war, and that most white informants (many of whom were part of the state's security apparatus) did not (Cock, 1991). The failure of white informants to recognise the conflict as war is not surprising, not least because the conflict was largely hidden from them, physically as well as discursively through censorship and propaganda.

Conversely, urban blacks resided in cordoned-off "zones of terror" (Walzer in Cock, 1991, p. 12). It is reasonable to assume that such polarised views existed even more acutely between members of the opposing armed formations.

But the situation was not static, and when it suited the apartheid security forces to describe the conflict as a war, they did so (and this was certainly the case during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission¹). As Cock puts it, during the 1980s, "clearly one of the sites of struggle in South Africa … was the definition of the struggle itself" (Cock, 1991, p. 7).

In this study Cock's definition of war as, "intense, widespread conflict that involves organised, collective, socially-sanctioned violence" has been adopted (Cock, 1991, p. 7).

War is understood here as a continuum ranging from "low intensity conflict, through conventional war to nuclear, or high intensity war" (Cock, 1989, CSVR). Conflict in Southern Africa (and often where South African security forces were engaged) has involved both low-intensity conflict, and full-scale conventional fighting. In the late 1980s Cock described the conflict within South Africa as a 'low-level civil war' (Cock, 1989). Importantly however, the term 'low-intensity conflict' also specifically refers to a counter-insurgency strategy adopted to defeat liberation forces without engaging in a full-blown conventional war.

Despite their differences, both the apartheid state and the ANC defined the conflict in terms of its 'totalness', its all-encompassing nature – something that affected the entire population. The state had embarked upon its "Total Strategy", a counter-insurgency strategy that ultimately resulted in unprecedented military influence in all spheres of national, regional and local government decision making. In 1985 the ANC called for a "People's War", a strategy to bring about "ungovernability" and "people's power". Both state and liberation-movement strategies brought about the increasing militarisation of South African society throughout the 1980s (see Cock, 1989). Neither the state nor the liberation movements considered violence the sole element of this war. Rather, the fight for and against democratic governance reached beyond military matters and was fought on a number of terrains (Ellis, 1998).

The battlefields of this 'total' war were not restricted to South Africa. "Total Strategy" intruded into neighbouring countries where the South African Defence Force (SADF) was involved in undeclared and devastating wars of destabilisation (Hanlon, 1986; Cock, 1991). Indeed, the TRC "believes that the number of people killed inside the borders of the country in the course of the liberation struggle was considerably lower than those who died outside" (TRC Report Vol. 2, Ch. 4 & 11). These wars were also carried out in an attempt to maintain and bolster the power of the apartheid state in the country and in the region.

By 1980, Zimbabwean independence and the collapse of Portuguese colonialism had created a serious security threat for the South African government. Neighbouring states were increasingly vocal in their opposition to apartheid and supportive of its opponents, particularly the ANC, whose ranks had swollen with the influx of youth from the post–1976 uprisings. South Africa's response took various forms. In addition to economic destabilisation by direct sabotage and control over supply routes, South Africa carried out military operations in most frontline states, sponsored proxy armies in Angola and Mozambique, and provided military backing to rebel groups in Lesotho and Zimbabwe. While some of these attacks targeted the ANC and Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) specifically, destabilisation was widespread and indiscriminate, costing the region over $30 billion. The strategy was designed to secure the obedience of hostile neighbours, which in turn was meant to cut off support for the ANC.² Throughout the 1980s a combination of carrot and stick brought about an uneasy compliance,³ forcing the ANC further away from its operational focus. By 1990, the closest ANC military training base to South Africa was in Uganda.

At the risk of oversimplification, the singular "war", as used here, encompasses those conflicts conducted in neighbouring countries that, to differing degrees, were also wars in their own right. Although Pretoria's external security strategy focused on regional destabilisation, where possible it sought to exacerbate existing tensions and disagreements. A similar strategy was used inside South Africa's borders. Relations between the ANC and Inkatha had steadily deteriorated in the late 1970s and early 1980s. The state saw an opportunity to exploit these divisions and did so effectively throughout the 1980s and early 1990s. Its relationship with Inkatha, however, was not a simple patron-client arrangement, but much more complex and contentious.

The intricacies and dynamics of the different causes, provocations, and manifestations of violent conflict, as well as the motivations of the diverse range of protagonists who participated in collective violence, cannot always be described within the parameters of the bi-polar conflict between the forces for and against apartheid. South Africa's conflicts also manifested in violence between those claiming to fight for the same ends – namely, a democratic dispensation. Issues of cause and responsibility remain contested. Inkatha, for example, rejected armed struggle yet engaged in a prolonged violent conflict with ANC and United Democratic Front (UDF) supporters. It consistently depicted its role in the violence as "defensive" and claimed that the ANC sought to destroy Inkatha and that this was in line with the ANC's own history of intolerance.⁴ Conversely, the ANC accused Inkatha and its leader, Chief Buthelezi, of being a stooge of the apartheid government, and consequently an integral component of Pretoria's counter-revolutionary arsenal.⁵ The conflict between UDF and Azanian Peoples Organisation (AZAPO) supporters during the mid-to-late 1980s is also illustrative of tension among the liberation movements, with allegations of intolerance and collaboration with the apartheid state levelled at each other's supporters.

The dynamics of conflict also differed from locality to locality, often informed more by local situations than by any grand design. In both examples above however, the state is either known or believed to have played a 'guiding role' in exacerbating and manipulating the conflict. As such, it could be argued that the bi-polar conflict was, in essence, superimposed on other sites of discord and divergence. Certainly, central to the counter-insurgency strategies implemented by the state from the mid 1980s was the galvanising of local, seemingly unrelated, community-dividing conflict. Part of the power too, of the pro-ANC UDF was "providing a national focus to various local conflicts" (Ellis, 1998, p. 272). At the same time, the over-arching conflict and, importantly, the context of this conflict, spawned a diverse range of other 'smaller' conflicts, which then developed their own unique momentums.

The problem of defining the war and its constituent parts becomes increasingly complex in relation to the unprecedented levels of violence witnessed during the negotiation period of the early 1990s. Officially, the main protagonists - the ANC and South African government - were negotiating the country's future. At the local level, manifestations of conflict "at times became subsumed in the national narrative of negotiation, and at other times became disconnected from it" (Ellis, 1998, p. 297). Violence during this period appeared to become an integral component of negotiation and the strategies around negotiations that evolved among a number of key players. While the ANC officially suspended its armed struggle, ANC-aligned Self Defence Units (SDUs) and some MK members actively engaged the security forces and Inkatha supporters on the ground. This was also the most active period of the Pan African Congress's (PAC) armed wing. In addition, various right-wing organisations engaged in a concerted effort to prevent a political agreement. The situation was complicated further by rapidly shifting political allegiances, which made chains of command and accountability difficult to disaggregate and identify.

The violence of the negotiations period, Ellis (1998, p. 286) maintains, "is best understood as an intensification of the existing campaign of low-intensity warfare. Here, Ellis is referring to what became known as a "Third Force". He shows the extent to which the apartheid state's counter-insurgency strategy continued to be applied during this period, linking the 1980s with the 1990s. Initially this was formally sanctioned by government officials in the highest echelons of the security establishment. But increasingly this became less formal and coordinated and resembled more the turning of a blind eye on the part of the state.⁶ In this context, covert units were relatively free to use their own initiative which they did, both to further the counter insurgency strategy which had been at the centre of the state's approach to the war, and for their own personal gain. It was only at the end of 1992 that meaningful steps were taken by De Klerk to halt this violent activity at which point the Third Force effectively became "privatised" (Ellis, 1998, p. 293).

The extent to which covert state and/or security force involvement is responsible for the bloodshed of the early 1990s remains unclear. Former political and security chiefs have denied such a strategy was in place, and have claimed that if there was evidence of covert action or collusion (in either the 1980s or 1990s) this was the work of a maverick element. The unprecedented levels of violence and the seeming inability or lack of will to put a stop to it, however, suggested that other issues were at play. Lethal covert operations had been intensified at the same time that secret negotiations had been evolving with the ANC in exile during the late 1980s. Was this dual-track strategy now abandoned during the post-1990 negotiations? If this was so, the policy shift had certainly not percolated down to operatives on the ground. As Ellis explains:

Seasoned covert operatives had seen enough twists and turns not to be surprised by anything which came their way … . They had understood that ministers are sometimes obliged to say what they do not mean, and to will what they cannot say … having been trained to fight the ANC and SACP enemy, [they] assumed that they would continue to do this unless explicitly told by their commanders to do otherwise in terms which brooked no misunderstanding or evasion. Politics was not their business, and middle-level operatives appear to have believed that, if the rhetoric of the government had changed under De Klerk, this was simply in keeping with the current phase of the struggle (Ellis, 1998, p. 281, 284).

Understanding the rapidly deteriorating situation in the early 1990s demands an appreciation of both national and local-level developments and dynamics. That the conflict became more fractured and intense is clear. The primary protagonists, at least in terms of casualties, became supporters of the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) and ANC.⁷ The reasons for the conflict, and the extent to which any of the armed formations had control or influence over these developments are less apparent. As Steinberg argued in relation to the violence that gripped the East Rand (Gauteng)⁸ in the early 1990s, "To see the violence as a simple tabula rasa on which national party political agendas [IFP/ANC] are inscribed, is to miss the specificities of what it means to fight a political war in South Africa at the local level" (Steinberg, 1994, p. 2).⁹

Both Ellis's analysis of the Third Force (1998), which illustrates the gradual erosion of co-ordination and control of the South African Police's and SADF's covert units, and Steinberg's of the violence in the East Rand, point to a reduction in the containment capabilities of organisations over their armed protagonists. During this period especially, notions of an all-powerful and co-ordinated state and a homogeneous and disciplined liberation movement were, more than ever before, thrown into question. Paradoxically, this was largely as a result of the 'totalness' of the strategies both had employed (the state in its implementation of counter-insurgency "Total Strategy", and the ANC/UDF in its broad-based mobilisation for "People's War"). The state appeared unable even to contain the violence, something it had successfully achieved during the 1980s. While allegations of covert complicity raged, concerns of capacity and competency also arose. During the 1980s the liberation movement had papered over the divisions and differences between variously placed actors to mobilise them in, "the most compelling and urgent politics of the day [which] was the construction of black unity in the struggle to end apartheid" (Steinberg, 1994, p. 10).¹⁰ Conflict between UDF affiliates and Inkatha worsened during this period. While the conflict had previously mainly taken place in KwaZulu and Natal, during the early 1990s, in the context of 'free political activity' it intensified in KwaZulu and spilled onto the Witwatersrand. In addition, the liberation movement's own constituency began to disaggregate, sometimes manifesting in highly fractured conflict within "ANC communities" themselves (Steinberg, 1994, p. 10).

The violent conflict of South Africa's recent past gave rise to a large and diverse collection of armed actors. This section has attempted to broadly outline the conflict so as to prepare the way for a more detailed look at some of the key categories of soldier and their particular roles in it. The views and experiences of combatants who were caught up at different times and in different situations throughout the conflict period under review are, to a significant extent, informed by the nature of these conflicts and how they developed over time.

What are Combatants?

Defining who one considers as 'combatants' (and subsequently, when the war is over, 'ex-combatants') is not always straightforward. This is typical of conflict involving widespread civil strife. Not only is the notion of 'combat' itself problematic, but definitions of its protagonists, the 'combatants', are also contested.

Traditionally 'combat' refers to the activity of armed military engagement with an enemy. But combat is not a homogeneous experience. Arguably, 'combatants' also include those who are not on the 'frontline', but who, for example, are located at base camps and study intelligence reports used to deploy troops for the purpose of engagement. In addition, advances in military technologies have, in some situations, put a physical distance between protagonists. This can also be the case for reasons other than military technologies. Many of those who belonged to the formal military structures, most notably MK, for example, were never actually involved in armed action with the enemy (although the experience of enemy violence was often the motivation for joining.)

One of Cock's (1992) interviewees points to a broader definition of 'combat' in addition to the traditional understanding: "There is both a broad and a narrow aspect of combat. First of all it involves building all forces that will be involved in implementing armed action. Then there is the narrow aspect involving military action, shoot outs, attacks and so on." (MK soldier in Cock, 1992, p. 12). This wider definition suggests that those with experience of combat training, or involved in logistics and other support, should also be considered as combatants.

Our interest here includes the preparation for 'contact' or 'combat' i.e. military training. There are a number of specific motivations for this. Experiences of violence, for example, are not restricted to those at the hands of the enemy, but are also frequently central to the process of constructing the 'soldier identities'. It is also often military training that distinguishes soldiers from civilians. Furthermore, much of the interest in 'ex-combatants' as a social category derives from the fact that they possess military skills and have, for significant periods of time, led a 'military life' whether or not this included combat experiences.

'Combat' is a highly gendered notion. It is constructed as a distinctly male affair, in which masculinity is solidified and reified. It depends on a division between the 'protector' (men) and the 'protected' (women), and the soldier's masculinity is defined in relation to his ability to perform in a combat situation. As a result, women are kept well away from the 'combat' terrain. The gendered construction of combat is particularly true of conventional armed formations. In the SADF, for example, where women were increasingly employed, "there [was] a rigid sexual division of labour both in training and deployment" (Cock, 1992) and women were never deployed in (narrowly defined) combat situations. Liberation forces have tended, however, to adopt a more progressive approach to the inclusion of women in their ranks, and to a limited extent within the command structure. Despite some radical differences with the SADF though, MK also excluded women from combat roles (Cock, 1992, p. 6).

Noteworthy too is that the term 'ex-combatants', in some contexts, is associated specifically with liberation fighters, and does not serve as a blanket term for all the former soldiers who participated in a conflict. In Mozambique, for instance, the term 'ex-combatants' refers to veterans of the liberation war and excludes former RENAMO soldiers (Kingma, 2000).

The all-encompassing nature of South Africa's conflict has implications for defining precisely who constituted its combatants. This study does not undertake a comprehensive exploration of all the armed formations that have participated in the multifarious conflicts of South Africa's recent history, but also attempts to avoid defining combatants as only those who were mobilised in the formal formations of the SADF and MK and APLA. Ex-combatants in South Africa also include groupings that were involved in quasi-military structures, such as self-defence and self-protection units, or right-wing paramilitary formations.

Moreover, as is frequently the case in civil wars, both the state and the liberation movement sought to mobilise the entire population in furthering their war interests. The ANC's strategy of "People's War" highlights the problem of a clear differentiation between 'combatants' and 'non-combatants' that "rests on a precise demarcation of the battlefield" (Cock, 1989), p. 2). Similarly, the vast military network developed by the state and its inclusion of various civilian structures meant that white "civil" society also became highly militarised and security-orientated. For the PAC's armed wing, APLA, this rendered white 'civilians' legitimate military targets. In its submission to the TRC, APLA argued that, "military trained and armed civilians defy the definition of civilians".¹¹

For the purposes of this study, 'combatants' are defined in relation to their proximity to acts of, and possibilities for, collective physical violence. The focus is not, for example, on the securocrats who worked within the state's security system although they were central to the conception and furthering of the state's war activities. The scientists whose military contribution was to develop deadly potions to be used against the enemy in warfare, and the military psychologists, some of whom attempted to lead resistant or traumatised national service men on the 'right' road back to war, are similarly not those under consideration, despite their significant contributions to the war aims of the state.

Turning to the liberation movements, combatants functioned within both guerrilla formations and street militias. Neither operated as discrete structures, and both relied heavily on civilian communities for support and cover. This further blurs the lines between civil and military functions and responsibilities, and expands the pool of men and women who may consider themselves to have been 'combatants'. The tasks of some who worked with militia and defence-unit structures for example included intelligence gathering, courier work, safe-house provision, and the smuggling, storage and maintenance of weapons. In addition, some of those who received military training from MK members inside the country, and described themselves as MK members before the TRC, are believed not to have appeared on the official Certified Personnel Register.¹²

Neither the state's nor the liberation movement's combatants were restricted to members of their formal military structures, the SADF, MK and APLA. Furthermore, a wide range of other armed actors who may, to differing degrees, have been broadly affiliated with either the state or the liberation movement were situated in the collective violence of South Africa's recent history. The outline presented below does not pretend to exhaust the list of the country's militarised actors. Notable omissions include, for example, the Askaris, various right-wing paramilitaries and the Azanian National Liberation Army (AZANLA - AZAPO's armed wing). This section aims instead to illustrate the heterogeneous nature of, and provide some background to, the militarised formations considered in this study.

State Combatants and their Allies

South African Police

The South African Police (SAP) were integrally involved in counter-insurgency efforts both within and outside the South African borders. After a period of unprecedented influence during the 1960s and 1970s, under the auspices of the "Total Strategy" the SAP was given primary responsibility for internal operations against the liberation movement and its allies. As such, policing efforts were focused much more on suppressing resistance than on solving crimes (Cawthra, 1986, p. 134), a fact reflected in the extent to which counter-insurgency training was "built into the making of a South African policeman" (Servamus, 1981, cited in Steytler, 1990, p. 116).

Between 1984 and 1986, township streets across the country became a key site of conflict. Armed with counter-insurgency training provided by the military, the police were, in effect, the initial and primary combatants on these internal battlefields. The SAP's Riot Squads and the attached Reaction Units (usually only 12 – 18 men strong), for example, were specially trained by the SADF's Special Task Force (an elite anti-terrorist unit established in 1975) and were main players in the suppression of demonstrations and strikes. Other activities of these units included the manning of roadblocks and assault-type operations (Cawthra, 1986). The SAP's ability to contain burgeoning resistance, however, became increasingly stretched, and in 1985 the SADF were deployed to assist the police in suppressing mounting opposition. From this point on, the SADF were more and more deployed for internal security. Consequently, during the apartheid era, the actions of the police and those of the SADF became indistinguishable to many township residents, "as they fused together in a pattern of indiscriminate violence" (Cock in Cock & Nathan, 1989).¹³

It was the SAP that, in Rhodesia in 1967, alongside the Rhodesian Security Forces, squashed the MK/ZIPRA campaign to establish an infiltration route to South Africa. They remained a presence in Rhodesia until 1975 (TRC Report, Vol. 2; Ellis, 1998). It was also the SAP, and not the SADF, that was first deployed in Namibia with the primary responsibility for counter-insurgency initiatives. The war activities of the SAP in neighbouring countries prior to the 1980s had serious consequences for the modus operandi of South African counter-insurgency strategy. It was largely their interaction and (military) training with Rhodesia's security forces that informed some of the particularly brutal elements of this strategy, as well as the emergence of some of the war's most notorious personalities and units:

Among the South Africans who served in Rhodesia was Eugene de Kock¹⁴ … . It is notable that, whereas a policeman is in theory employed to uphold the law of the land with the minimum use of force, De Kock was partly trained [in Rhodesia] by a military unit specialised in long-range reconnaissance, sabotage and fighting behind enemy lines … . Like De Kock, many of the policemen who were to emerge at the heart of the underground war against subversion in South Africa served in Rhodesia (Ellis,1998, p. 268).

The practice of "turning" guerrillas to serve both an intelligence and offensive capacity can be traced to the Rhodesian experience: "Battle-hardened, psychologically and socially divorced from their communities of origin and compromised by their treachery, askaris were well-suited to the grisliest acts of war" (Ellis, 1998, p. 269). In addition, within South Africa these strategies were employed as a response to the lack of support for the SAP amongst the local population (Ellis, 1998). They made use of informers, repression and from the mid 1980s, surrogate and proxy forces.

The Special Branch (later named the Security Police), referred to by one of its former members, Dirk Coetzee, as the "murder squad" (Steytler, 1990, p. 112), was at the forefront of the SAP's political activities (Cawthra, 1986). Operating separately from the uniformed and detective branches of the SAP and with a parallel command structure but personnel placed at various SAP headquarters, it infiltrated and attempted to destroy anti-apartheid organisations (Resister, 1990; Cawthra, 1986). On occasion, members were deployed to both police and military bases in Namibia and, in the late1980s, worked alongside the Civil Co-operation Bureau (CCB), a special unit of the SADF (Resister,1990).

The security "C Section" of the Security Police was responsible for counter-insurgency and C10 - or Vlakplaas, as it is more commonly known - was home to the majority of South African "askaris". Here, "turned" ANC and PAC activists were organised into groups, each under the control of a white policeman (TRC Report, Vol. 2, p. 30). The Vlakplaas unit became a "general-purpose death squad which would be handed instructions to kill specific individuals who had been identified by the Security Branch in various parts of the country, as well as act on the initiative of its commander, who had an effective power of life and death'' (Ellis, 1998, p. 269).¹⁵

Another specialist SAP counter-insurgency unit was Koevoet ("Crowbar"), which was renamed the South West African Counter-Insurgency Unit in 1985. General Hans Dreyer, the founding head of the unit, had, like De Kock (who was also a founder member) served with the Rhodesian Special Forces. Established in 1979 and disbanded in 1989, it operated in Namibia and the border areas of Angola. Its command structure included SAP personnel and former members of the Rhodesian Selous Scouts. Rank-and-file membership however, was constituted mainly of black South West African policemen and, later, former fighters of UNITA and FNLA, as well as "turned" SWAPO members (Cawthra, 1986, p. 124). Regarded as one of the most notorious, yet effective, counter-insurgency units, approximately 80% of "kills" in the operational area were attributed to Koevoet (Cawthra, 1986). Members were encouraged in their work by monetary reward for killings (TRC Report, Vol. 2, p. 75). Known for its extreme and brutal methods and reluctance to take prisoners, in its first year of operation it lost 23 of its members and killed 511 "insurgents" (TRC Report Vol. 2, p. 77).

Two other groupings within the ranks of the police and deserving of specific attention were the Municipal Police and Special Constables. Municipal police (also known as "greenflies", "greenbeans" or "ama Tshaka") were attached to the Black Local Authorities and their numbers have been estimated as reaching 14 000 in the late 1980s (TRC Report Vol. 2, p. 183). Municipal police were deployed to protect council facilities and staff, which increasingly became targeted by anti-apartheid activists.

Special constables (known as "kitskonstabels", "blue lines" or "bloupakke") were largely drawn from the ranks of uneducated and unemployed African men, including some with criminal records. They were recruited from both urban and rural areas, and given "perfunctory" training by the SAP (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 183). In the Western Cape, most special constables were recruited from the pro-government "witdoeke" camps (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 184). The numbers of special constables¹⁶ deployed has been estimated as at 8 000 by the end of the 1980s (TRC, Vol. 2). Even within security circles, the introduction of special constables was controversial.¹⁷ They soon developed a reputation for being "out of hand": "High levels of excessive and inappropriate use of violence, often arising out of drunken behaviour, ill-discipline and personal vendettas, were reported. They retained the use of shotguns even off duty" (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 184) and members were accused of involvement in murder, beatings, torture, robbery, assault, theft and rape. In some circumstances they were also very directly involved in political violence. In KwaZulu and Natal, for example, special constables were inserted into the IFP/ANC conflict to augment the IFP's position (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 186). During the post-1990 period unsubstantiated allegations were made that former and serving special constables were recruited into hit squads in the Western Cape and involved in "balaclava killings" at the behest of town councillors (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 186). Elsewhere, they were retrenched or drawn into the ranks of the formal policing structures.

The SADF
The South African Defence Force (SADF) was broadly structured around two main bodies, the "full-time" force and the "part-time" reserve force. The "full-time" force included "the Permanent Force" (PF) (full-time members of the military) and conscripted National Service men,¹⁸ while the "part-time" force consisted of the Citizen Force (CF) and the Commandos¹⁹ (Phillips, 1989). The relationship and interaction between the part-time and full-time forces:

can best be understood in terms of the typical Defence Force career of a white male. All white men must register for military service at 16 … . They are then liable for service in the full-time force. Those who do not make a career in the permanent force are required … to render two years of national service in one of the five arms of the Defence Force. After this they are placed in the part time citizen force for twelve years, during which time they must serve up to 720 days in annual 30-, 60- or 90-day 'camps'. Then they are placed in the active citizen force reserve for five years and may be required to serve 12 days a year in a local commando until the age of 55. Finally, they are placed on the national reserve until they are 65 (Phillips, 1989, p. 17).

When the conscription system was finally abolished in 1994, approximately 428 774 white men had, since 1960, reported for military service (TRC Report, Vol. 4, p. 224). This accounts for a huge number of the adult white male population, many of whom could therefore appropriately be defined as 'ex-combatants'.

South African army units were divided into a Conventional Force and a Territorial Force. The latter and largest element was focused on internal counter-insurgency warfare or "area defence"²⁰ (Cawthra, 1986; Phillips, 1989). Through the use, primarily, of the citizen force and the commandos (the most common of these being rural commandos who were organised locally to monitor their areas), a far-reaching security network, known as the Area Defence System, was established to fight this particular arm of the war. This complemented the lead role played by the military in the National Security Management System.

In addition, SADF troops became increasingly involved with internal security. In 1985, over 35 000 soldiers were deployed in townships across the country as part of the state's strategy to suppress internal resistance. At the sharp end of counter-insurgency operations, SADF Special Force members were also engaged in several assassinations.²¹ The extent of their involvement in such operations, however, remains unclear.

With regard to external operations, the SADF's elite reaction force initially consisted of the Parachute Battalions or "parabats". Parabats were rigorously selected and very highly trained (Cawthra, 1986). However, in 1974, the Reconnaissance ("Recce") commandos were established, falling under their own Special Forces command (Cawthra, 1986). Although the parabats remained intact and active, SADF's Recce Units became the force's new elite. Specialising in "unconventional" warfare (often involving false flag operations) and shrouded in secrecy, the Recces were at the forefront of most attacks on neighbouring states, and involved in the deployment and training of proxy forces (Phillips, 1989; Stiff, 1999).

SADF's Directorate of Special Tasks (DST), which fell under the Chief of Staff Intelligence (CSI), was central to the running of proxy forces in neighbouring states and an integral component of SADF's covert structures (Ellis, 1998). CSI, which worked closely with Special Forces, became "the richest and most influential of all covert units, with an awesome offensive ability and experience in destabilisation, as well as an intelligence-gathering network at home and abroad" (Ellis, 1998, p. 287). Many ex-Rhodesian security force members were recruited into its ranks.

Another unit at the heart of covert operations, and also falling under CSI in Military Intelligence was the Directorate of Covert Collection (DCC). During a raid on the DCC offices by the Goldstone Commission in late 1992, investigators stumbled across incriminating evidence about SADF involvement in covert operations and dirty tricks. SADF's General Pierre Steyn drew up a report for former State President De Klerk in which detailed allegations were listed including:

• that SADF's Recce regiments, with the help of Spoornet's intelligence agency were involved in train massacres that wreaked havoc on the Witwatersrand in the early 1990s;

• that SADF's 7^th Medical Division supplied poison to assassins from army hit squads and was involved in a chemical bomb attack on FRELIMO troops in Mozambique in the late 1980s; and

• that RENAMO and Inkatha operatives were armed and trained by DCC operatives up until the early 1990s

According to the media, General Steyn regarded many of the clandestine operations in his report to have been "corroborated" or "probably true".²² De Klerk immediately suspended and forcibly retired a number of military officers, several of whom vehemently denied any wrongdoing. De Klerk's prompt action was nevertheless seen as a decisive turning point in the evolution of state dirty tricks (Ellis, 1998). Subsequent investigations cleared a number of the 23 officers who had been dismissed. It is not clear how thorough those investigations were, although aspects were evidently used in subsequent investigations and the prosecution of Brigadier Wouter Basson, the former head of SADF's chemical and biological warfare programme. Former military leaders have continued to deny involvement in such activities, claiming that investigations had cleared them of any wrongdoing, and depicting the allegations as insubstantial and the mischievous work of the National Intelligence Service (NIS).²³

These were not the first claims of SADF involvement in underhand covert operations. In 1991, Judge Louis Harms was appointed to investigate allegations of security force hit squads, following revelations by former SAP Vlakplaas commander, Dirk Coetzee. Although Harms controversially dismissed the allegations against the police, he found that there was prima facie evidence of SADF dirty tricks, and pointed to a unit within the military known as the Civil Co-operation Bureau or CCB (Independent Board of Inquiry, 1991).

Established in 1986 to provide additional counter-insurgency capacity to the Special Forces, the CCB was, in the words of its former "Managing Director", Joe Verster, intended to be, "a covert force to counter the covert operations of the ANC" (TRC Report, Vol. 2, pp. 135-136). CCB activities included assassinations, cross-border raids, the setting up of front and regular companies, disinformation campaigns, sanctions busting and intelligence collection (TRC Report, Vol. 2, pp. 141–143). While the CCB is thought to have been responsible for relatively few deaths within South Africa's borders (Ellis, 1998), there is not much clarity on exactly what it was responsible for. Moreover, despite being part of Special Forces, it was structured and operated as if it did not officially exist (TRC Report, Vol. 2, p. 136).²⁴ Its operatives were drawn from the ranks of the SADF and the SAP (including the notorious Brixton Murder and Robbery Squad) and also, according to former operative Christo Nel, included a network of "international criminals … people who were usable for the type of work that was planned". There were 'aware' members (numbering approximately 100) and 'unaware' members (approximately 150). The latter did not know that they were in fact part of the CCB (TRC Vol. 2, pp. 139-140). The long-term aim of the CCB was to:

create a global subterranean network of companies that would be both legitimate businesses as well as fronts for operational intelligence. The companies would be headed by businessmen who were well integrated into their communities but remained skilled covert operatives able both to run successful firms and to collect intelligence and act on it where instructed (TRC Vol. 2, p. 137).

This aim was never realised and the CCB was disbanded following the damaging findings of the Harms Commission. At this point, many of its operatives are believed to have moved into other covert units (Ellis, 1998).

Although the SADF relied primarily on the white population for its personnel requirements, with the exception of a small Indian and Black component drawn into the commando system (Phillips, 1989),²⁵ a number of special SADF units, which were almost exclusively black, were established.²⁶ These units were based in the neighbouring states and their personnel were comprised mainly of former members of other non-South African armed formations.

32 Battalion, which came to number 9 000 (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 22), was made up primarily of black Portuguese-speaking mercenary troops who had previously served in the defeated Angolan FNLA, and was frequently deployed with or on behalf of UNITA in Angola (Phillips, 1989). In other incidents, members used "false flag" operations posing as Angolan troops (Grundy, 1983). Designed specifically for "cross-border" operations, they did not wear SADF uniforms or use SADF equipment, and were allegedly also paid cash in reward for their killings (Phillips, 1989; TRC, Vol. 2; Grundy, 1983). 32 Battalion members were relocated to South Africa following Namibia's independence, and were used in certain internal operations during the pre-1994 era. The unit was disbanded in 2000.

31 Battalion (which later became 201 Battalion) was another specialist unit established by the SADF using indigenous Namibians. According to testimony at the TRC,²⁷ large numbers of the few remaining !Kung "Bushmen" and Ju/Wasi (Namibia's San people) were forcibly recruited. "Either join the army or we'll bomb your villages", they were told (TRC, Vol. 2, pp. 22-23). The San were recruited or abducted into the SADF, at first mainly as trackers, but later were trained in combat and deployed as units (Grundy, 1983).²⁸ 31 Battalion operated out of Camp Omega, a "total institution", which by 1981 housed 850 soldiers, 900 women and 1 500 children (Weaver, 1989). Commentators in the mid-1980s expressed grave concern as to what would happen to these soldiers and their families following independence: "The !Kung not only will have no occupation other than that of soldier, but potentially face the wrath of a nation they have fought against and helped subjugate" (Weaver, 1989).

Proxy Forces
South Africa's wars in neighbouring countries resulted in the emergence of many non-South African combatants who served in full, or in part, the interests of the SADF and the apartheid state. The SADF's special indigenous units, among which were 31 and 32 Battalions, as well as the SAP's Koevoet, were an integral component of apartheid's formal security apparatus. In addition, South Africa relied in differing degrees on proxy forces such as UNITA in Angola, RENAMO in Mozambique, the Lesotho Liberation Army, and Super-Zapu (in Zimbabwe) to bolster its regional destabilisation policies.

South Africa therefore sponsored several insurgencies in neighbouring countries and, by so doing, avoided direct military intervention while at the same time creating the necessary conditions for weakening hostile neighbours and their ability to support South Africa's own liberation movements. The seemingly contradictory phenomenon of foreign combatants doing South Africa's bidding was commonplace and an integral component of Pretoria's divide-and-rule policies. Before independence in Namibia, for example, the South West Africa Territory Force was formed in 1980 from the SADF's SWA regional command. The introduction of conscription for all Namibians provided the required personnel. In effect, the Namibians themselves increasingly fought South Africa's war with SWAPO, in what has been described as the "Namibianisation of the conflict" (Phillips, 1989, p. 26).

Outside of the country, the shapes of the conflict and the combatants involved were not always clearly distinguished from those inside. Some Mozambicans who had come into South Africa illegally in search of work, for instance, were forcibly recruited into RENAMO by the SADF (Davies, 1989). RENAMO combatants were also reportedly used for certain operations inside South Africa. According to the investigative newspaper, 'Weekly Mail', "MNR bandits in camps in South Africa were sent into action against members of the Northern Transvaal Youth Congress in Venda in 1986 (cited in Davies, 1989). While such incidents seem to have been very limited during the 1980s, it is interesting to note the deployment of former members of foreign South African units within South Africa in the early and mid 1990s. Former members of 32 Battalion, for example, approached the TRC in connection with their role in train violence during this period (Ellis, 1998, p. 285). Ultimately, no detail of their involvement was disclosed in this matter, which in turn underscores how limited disclosures have been. Little is publicly known about the role of the military in covert operations.²⁹

Surrogate Forces
From the mid 1980s onwards, and in response to growing levels of resistance and insurgency, the state's proxy forces in the front-line states were complemented internally by surrogate forces in the form of 'vigilantes'³⁰ and other groups (Davies, 1989). In 1985 right-wing vigilante groups across the country, often linked to illegitimate local black authorities, began targeting members and supporters of UDF affiliates, prompting fierce resistance, particularly from youth groups. The security forces turned a blind-eye to the vigilantes' excesses and on occasion were directly implicated in attacks and playing a supporting role (Haysom, 1986). The use of surrogate forces reflected a tangible shift from a primary dependency on the SADF and SAP to suppress internal black resistance, to a policy of divide and rule, in which the security forces would play both a 'hands off' and co-ordinating role. As such, the strategy based on supporting conservative political and social forces, was designed to create new tensions, exacerbate existing ones and exploit the fault lines within black South Africa.

In April 1986 the State Security Council (SSC) emphasised that the task of countering the revolutionaries should be expanded to include the work of "anti-revolutionary groups such as Inkatha … or the ZCC [Zion Christian Church] as well as the ethnic factor in South African society" (Ellis, 1998, p. 274). Members of criminal networks were also incorporated into vigilante groups (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 312). Auxiliary forces functioned in the communities from which they were recruited in line with the strategy of countering the revolution from within (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 182). In both the use of proxy forces in neighbouring countries and vigilantes in South Africa, the role played by the state was hidden. These forces functioned to disrupt and fracture democratic organisations and spread intense and widespread fear through increasingly arbitrary attacks (Cock, 1991).

For the state, this strategy had several advantages: "The deployment of force is cheap in terms of both direct SADF casualties and resources; and the level of violence and brutality can be raised at a lower diplomatic and ideological cost than would be the case if the state's regular security forces were directly involved" (Davies, 1989, p. 103). In addition, the use of surrogate forces fostered perceptions of "black-on-black" violence, and maintained a distance between those who were physically involved in the fighting and those who ultimately benefited.

The role of the state and its security forces ranged from endorsement and support to management and even formation of the vigilante groupings. There was no blue print. In Port Elizabeth and Uitenhage, for example, vigilantes were utilised to exacerbate tensions that existed between the local UDF and AZAPO structures. Similarly, security force interventions (and their failure to avert violence) fed into "Witdoeke" actions against UDF supporters in the Western Cape (TRC Report, Vol. 2, p. 308). In these cases, the security forces tapped into existing struggles and agendas. Elsewhere, groupings such as the Anti-Comrades and The Eagles (both in the Orange Free State) were allegedly the direct creation of the security forces (TRC Report, Vol. 2, pp. 310-311). Others seemingly operated more on a part-time basis. The Three Million Gang, a gangster outfit based in Brandfort,

was called by Sergeant or the SB [Special Branch] whenever there was need to reinforce the prevailing structures of gangsters in Brandfort. Co-ordination meetings were held at [the] police station, where leaders of the gangsters met with members of the SB to receive attacking strategies from the SB, weapons, money and material sponsors like beers and tobacco (Testimony to TRC Report, Vol. 2, p. 311).³¹

Bantustan / Homeland Forces

Bantustan security forces served as an important link to apartheid South Africa's security system: "Military agreements are entered into with these States when they attain their independence. This led to the creation of a joint management body to coordinate co-operation. The SADF recognises the supportive capabilities of the Independent States and encourages their participation in an overall Southern African military treaty against a common enemy" (1982 Defence White Paper in Phillips,1989; Cooper, 1989).

This brief outline of the bantustan security forces concentrates on their military components but their police forces were also integral to homeland security. Indeed, they played a role similar to that of their South African counterparts, with a primary focus on counter insurgency rather than combating crime. In addition, they played a pivotal role in protecting the interests of ruling homeland elites. Consequently, and as in South Africa, they lacked legitimacy and were disliked by the communities they 'served' (TRC Report, Vol. 2, p. 412).

While the "independent" bantustans – Transkei, Bophuthatswana, Venda and Ciskei - had their 'own' forces, regional battalions of the SADF were established in the non-independent bantustans. These military forces (non-independent and "independent") were integrated into South Africa's area defence plan³² (in the case of the "independent" bantustans however, this was not publicly acknowledged) and were used by South Africa both for counter-insurgency operations, and to maintain internal "law and order" in quelling domestic unrest (Cooper, 1989, p. 178). They were also used in the Namibian conflict.

Apart from formal military agreements between South Africa and the "independent" bantustans, SADF's relationship with bantustan forces was entrenched through its provision of counter–insurgency training to bantustan soldiers (Cooper, 1989). In addition, white SADF officers were seconded to Bantustan forces where they held positions of authority, and the homeland military were also dependent on South Africa for the supply of finances, bases, military equipment and intelligence. This dependence enabled the South African government to prevent any of the homelands pursuing a truly independent defence policy (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 413).

Despite South Africa's intentions, the link between the SADF and bantustan forces was often weak, with the bantustan armies themselves, at times, a key source of instability. They were, "sometimes being used by (ruling bantustan) elites to further their own aims, and at other times, acting independently against them" (Cooper, 1989, p. 174).³³ This was certainly the case in the military coups in the Transkei and Bophuthatswana, which some analysts understood as illustrative of the military's desire to have "a share in the spoils" (Cooper, 1989, p. 185). Mills & Wood (1992) have suggested otherwise in the case of the Bophuthatswana coup, where internal resentment within the Bophuthatswana Defence Force (BDF) likely arose out of corruption and the favouring of South Africans for senior posts in the force. In this instance, the SADF intervened to put down the coup, thereby keeping their ally and incumbent homeland leader, Lucas Mangope, in power, and preventing Bophuthatswana from becoming a springboard for ANC attacks on South Africa's industrial heartland in the PWV. This attempted coup, however, involved only certain sections of the BDF. Consequently, Mills & Wood shared the position that, "it is difficult to view the BDF as an independent unit … [it] is best seen as part of the SADF" (Mills & Wood, 1992, p. 5).

The situation varied from homeland to homeland. The Transkei Defence Force (TDF) was to experience a profound reorientation when a military officer, Bantu Holomisa, took power in the late 1980s. Holomisa, who considered the ANC an ally and joined forces with it during the pre-1994 negotiation process, allowed Transkeian territory to be used by liberation armies for training and safe havens. Such was the break with the South African military that, in 1993, the SADF and the SAP prepared detailed plans to topple Holomisa in a coup. In neighbouring Ciskei, the military also took over nominal control of government. Here, the "head of state", Brigadier Oupa Gqozo, continued to work closely with the South African military and intelligence agents. In September 1992, Ciskei Defence Force (CDF) members opened fire on ANC marchers near Bisho, killing 19.

Inkatha and the Inkatha Freedom Party

Inkatha and its successor the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) have consistently claimed that they were opposed to apartheid, but that they sought a democratic dispensation by means of negotiation and not armed struggle. After several years of collaboration with the ANC, Inkatha's relationship soured dramatically following an historic meeting in London in 1979. Inkatha's leader, Chief Buthelezi alleged that the ANC leader, Oliver Tambo, had lost control of "militant" elements within the ANC and was even publicly criticising Inkatha: "He had sided with those in his ranks who saw Inkatha as a threat and who wanted no evidence that black democratic opposition and black non-violent tactics and strategies were powerful forces for bringing about change" ('The London Meeting', IFP Website).³⁴

The relationship between Inkatha and the ANC continued to deteriorate in the early 1980s, with increasing violent conflict between supporters in KwaZulu and Natal. Much of this violence revolved around local battles for resources, control and patronage of Inkatha officials (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 340). Inkatha and Buthelezi continued to portray themselves as opposed to violence, but consistently evoked their "right" to defend themselves. Indeed, such was the all-encompassing notion of "self-defence", that attacking one's opponents was also construed as "defensive."

The complex reasons for what became referred to as "civil war", and what motivated the protagonists' and combatants' participation in the conflict, fall beyond the scope of this study. Instead, a very brief description of some of the key categories of combatants follows.

Inkatha's combatants have been described in a number of ways. In early years those involved in the fighting were referred to as "men" and sometimes merely "residents" organised in "impis". Alternatively they have been depicted as "Zulu warriors" or Inkatha supporters armed with sticks and assegais. From 1986, members of the Inkatha Youth Brigade were also increasingly associated with the violence (Jeffrey, 1997, pp. 47-55). Inkatha's victims and enemies referred to them as "amabutho"³⁵ or "inkatha vigilantes" led by "warlords": "These Inkatha leaders are generally known as warlords because they command armies of men and extract allegiance and obedience on roughly feudal lines: in return for military loyalty the warlords provide their men with money, food, drink, and some political assistance, such as the granting of licences and favourable allocation of land" as one commentator³⁶ defined "war lords" (in Jeffrey, 1997).

Despite Inkatha's opposition to Pretoria, Inkatha's relationship with the apartheid state and its security agencies suggests that the organisation and its leader were prepared to 'dance with the devil' if it believed it was in its interests to do so. According to former Inkatha member and Buthelezi confidante, Walter Felgate, Buthelezi held meetings with the Bureau of State Security (BOSS) operatives on a regular monthly basis from the early 1970s.³⁷

As the security situation in KwaZulu deteriorated in the early 1980s, Buthelezi accused the ANC and UDF of trying to destroy him and Inkatha. Indeed, Inkatha officials and bantustan leaders were defined as collaborators and as such were prime targets of the ANC's call for ungovernability (Jeffrey, 1997).³⁸ In an address to the KwaZulu Legislative Assembly in 1984, Buthelezi called for the development of a homeland paramilitary capacity that would tackle opponents. "I believe that we must prepare ourselves not only to defend property and life, but to go beyond that and prepare ourselves to hit back with devastating force at those who destroy and kill" (Buthelezi cited in Varney, 1997, p. 8).

During 1986, 200 Inkatha supporters received six months' military training from the SADF's Special Forces in the Caprivi Strip, as part of "Operation Marion". Upon their return, the "Caprivi Trainees" were deployed around KwaZulu-Natal, some joining the homeland police force (The KwaZulu Police – KZP), some guarding the homes of chiefs and Inkatha officials, and others training youths in their local areas (TRC Report, Vol. 3, p. 220). In early 1994, a task-team report commissioned by the Transitional Executive Council³⁹ found that various hit-squad activities were traceable to Caprivi Trainees. Contrary to official claims, it found that that the training received from the SADF, "had little to do with the stated purpose of VIP protection, but had in fact equipped the trainees with a deadly repertoire of skills in offensive military techniques and guerrilla warfare". Testimony provided at the TRC by some former trainees has confirmed these findings (TRC, Vol. 3, p. 223; Varney, 1997, p. 23). Inkatha and former SADF commanders however, continue to deny that the trainees received training or instruction for offensive operations. Nevertheless, "Operation Marion" should be seen within the broader ambit of the state's counter-insurgency efforts and Inkatha as a critical ally in the fight against the ANC and its fellow travellers.

Inkatha's dominance in the KwaZulu homeland ensured that the KZP played a partisan role in the unfolding conflict during the 1980s and early 1990s. Collusion and collaboration resulted in some members of the KZP providing transport, weapons and training to other combatants, as well as participating directly in the conflict against ANC/UDF supporters (TRC, Vol. 3, p. 251). Collaboration with the SAP and its security police component was illustrated by the appointment of one of the security police's top counter-insurgency experts, Brigadier Jac Buchner, as Commissioner of the KZP.

Conflict between Inkatha and UDF affiliates continued throughout the 1980s and, following the unbanning of the ANC and other parties, spread to the townships of the PWV. Under the banner of the IFP, many Zulu-speaking migrants became embroiled in a conflict that resulted in unprecedented levels of violence.

In some of the townships around Johannesburg's sprawling conurbation the IFP's combatants, organised into Self Protection Units (SPUs), operated largely from the hostels and were primarily engaged in fighting ANC-aligned Self Defence Units (SDUs). There is, however, relatively little information on the Self Protection Structures and their relationship with the IFP, as research has focussed on SDU structures.⁴⁰ Furthermore, commentators noted the 'invisibility' of those structures linked to Inkatha, and the concomitant limitations to depth of understanding:

In the East Rand, SPUs are present in hostels. It is difficult, however, to assess their role because they are not visible. They do not even patrol the parameters of the hostels but appear to stay inside the hostels. This increases the perception that they operate as "hit squads" (Gillespie & Radipole, 1994, p. 16)

Noteworthy too, is that while commentators tend to refer to the 1990-1994 violence between Inkatha supporters and other township residents as a conflict between the SPUs and SDUs, it was not until 1993 that Buthelezi called for the establishment of Self Protection Units (SPUs) to defend "Zulu areas" from attack (Jeffrey, 1997, p. 390). Before this call, SPU trainees had already gained considerable fighting experience in the preceding years of conflict.

Following Buthelezi's call for the establishment of SPUs, Zulus living in IFP-controlled areas (both in KwaZulu-Natal and on the Reef) were asked to contribute R5.00 towards the forming and arming of the protection units. Between October 1993 and April 1994, shortly before the first democratic elections, approximately 5 000 recruits were provided with SPU training mainly at the Mlaba camp in KwaZulu-Natal. (Other camps where training took place were Emandleni-Matleng and Dinizulu.) Training was carried out under the command of Phillip Powell, a former security policeman, and involved members of the KZP, the Caprivi Trainees and Vlakplaas operatives, including Eugene de Kock (TRCt, Vol. 3, p. 319). The latter also organised for Powell to be supplied with large quantities of weapons. In addition, some SPU training in the early 1990s was facilitated by right-wing organisations such as the Afrikaanse Weerstandsbeweging (AWB). This took place mostly on white farms and KwaZulu-Natal nature reserves such as Umfolozi (TRC, Vol. 3; IBI, 1993). In the context of the IFP's opposition to participation in the negotiations, military training of this nature was understandably construed as somewhat sinister. 'Official' training was also necessary, however, if the IFP were to argue for the incorporation of their combatants into the post-apartheid security structures.

Liberation Movement Forces

Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK)

When it was launched on 16 December 1961, MK had fewer than 250 members. Armed actions at the time took the form of sabotage of state infrastructure. New recruits were generally sent abroad for training but were not able to infiltrate back into the country as had been intended. Following the arrest of MK's High Command in Rivonia and the squashing of attempts to regroup inside the country, MK had little choice but to operate from outside SA, and its headquarters were subsequently established in Tanzania.⁴¹ It was to be more than a decade before MK activity was again registered inside South African territory. MK's activities and the development of its structures during this period were largely shaped by its exile circumstances, primarily its geographical isolation and related capacity problems.⁴²

Numerous efforts to develop an underground presence in South Africa were hindered by a limited support structure for the infiltration of cadres. This resulted in the capture, interrogation and abuse of infiltrating cadres, many of whom survived back in South Africa for only very short periods. This situation improved significantly following the collapse of Portuguese colonialism, but stemming potential points of infiltration remained a key priority in Pretoria's counter-insurgency strategy. Faced with an ever-present threat of attack in the forward areas, death-squad activities, abductions and arrests, effective infiltration continued to be a problem for the ANC (Barrell, 1990).

The process of building the internal underground was therefore slow, and even after internal structures were established, particularly from the mid 1980s, they suffered from their isolation from other ANC and MK structures. The gap between the military and political operations of the ANC generally, with the "right hand not knowing what the left hand was doing", had for long dogged the armed struggle (Motumi, 1994, p. 5) In these circumstances, inadequate planning for the reception, support and guidance of infiltrating cadres contributed to the alarming number of arrests, injuries and deaths at the hand of the state security forces (Barrell, 1990; Motumi, 1994). In many instances cadres were simply left to fend for themselves.

Command structures and operational planning were influenced by these circumstances, resulting in the devolution of decision making to individual commanders and operatives on the ground. This is emphasised, for example, in the ANC's second submission to the TRC in considerations of civilian casualties as a result of MK operations:

When unexpected difficulties arose, cadres had to decide on their feet: and sometimes they made wrong decisions … . In contrast with a conventional military force, in which virtually all planning takes place at HQ level by experienced officers, in guerrilla warfare most of the initiative is with the unit, and detailed planning takes place at the lowest level. Each cadre has to be trusted to make decisions with regard to choice of target within ANC policy, whilst keeping a close eye on developments and feelings among the people in his/her community – a responsibility which no soldier in a conventional force ever has to face … . There were long and insecure lines of communication, command and control. There was no "hotline" to higher structures to ask for guidance … (ANC 2^nd submission, TRC Report, p. 15)

The ANC was unable to track accurately what happened to its operatives and, as a result, what operations it was responsible for. This was evidenced in their submission to the TRC, where it provided two lists of military operations: those it was sure it was responsible for, and those it may have been responsible for. While the ANC maintains that some of the operations on the latter list were "false-flags", others may well have been bona fide MK members, "interpreting ANC policy in a certain way" (TRC, Vol. 2, p. 339).

Some cadres did manage to link up with local anti-apartheid structures and "hand-grenades began to replace stones and petrol bombs in the hands of the comrades" (Barrel, 1990, p. 60).⁴³ Further efforts to improve co-ordination and communication were made. In 1986, Operation Vula was launched as an attempt to increase the internal presence in a more co-ordinated manner (including the infiltration of senior political and military leadership into the country), in line with the strategy of "People's War" (Motumi, 1995; ANC 2^nd submission to TRC).

While initially MK activity focused on the sabotage of economic infrastructure and state installations, SAP and SADF personnel were increasingly targeted during the 1970s (Motumi 1994, ANC 2^nd submission to TRC). The strategy of "armed propaganda" was largely symbolic, and aimed at raising consciousness within the country and making MK's presence felt during this period. Throughout the 1980s however, attacks became more aggressive, significantly increasing in number, and focused on destroying enemy personnel (Motumi, 1995; Barrell, 1990; ANC 2^nd submission to TRC).⁴⁴

In the tradition of Communist insurgencies in China and Vietnam, the ANC and MK extolled the strategy of "People's War", which relied on the involvement of the broader population in the fight against apartheid (Motumi, 1995). MK cadres were to link up with local street committees and train and organise "comrades" into combat units. Where possible, they did so, but as Barrell (1990) points out, comrades had often already formed their own combat units armed with stones, petrol bombs and innovative tactics.

Following the Kabwe Conference in 1985, where the strategy of "People's War" was reappraised, there was a perceptible shift in the nature of MK's armed activities. The ANC relaxed its "single-minded preoccupation with avoiding civilian casualties in the course of armed actions against legitimate targets" (ANC 2^nd submission to TRC, p. 16). From late 1985 a landmine campaign targeting white farmers in selected border areas was launched. According to the ANC, the farmers' participation in the state's security networks rendered them "legitimate targets", but because black farm workers too often also became victims, along with women and children, the ANC put a halt to the campaign in 1987 (Barrell, 1990; ANC 2^nd submission to TRC).

Despite the harsh implementation of the state of emergency declared mid-1986, MK's armed operations intensified, at the same time that elements of the ANC's leadership began to secretly negotiate with Pretoria. Incidences of armed operations rose steadily from 1986, peaking in 1988 (during which time one in three attacks were directed at the security forces) and continuing in 1989 (Barrell, 1990).

In August 1990 the ANC announced the suspension of its armed struggle. MK activities nevertheless continued. These included the recruitment and training of new cadres in preparation for a new South African defence force. Other selected returned MK operatives, together with underground operatives, were also involved in organising, training and arming Self Defence Units.

The ANC (and MK Military HQ) felt that the negotiations could be jeopardised should MK become formally involved in attempts to defend people from these attacks [which exploded on the Reef in July 1990], but approved the involvement of MK members based in communities under threat in SDU structures … . Various clandestine units for the training and organisation of the various SDUs were set up, and some cadres were tasked to provide weaponry where possible. We do not have records of MK's role in SDUs since they were not HQ-controlled structures" (The ANC's 2^nd submission to the TRC REPORT, 1997, pp. 35-36).

For MK soldiers, experiences of conflict and violence were not restricted to operational activities. Life in the military camps was particularly difficult and dangerous, especially in Angola. Inadequate supplies of water, food, and medical assistance were compounded by the realities of a country in the midst of civil war. Tropical diseases were rife and camps and cadres were under constant threat from the SADF-supported UNITA (ANC 2^nd submission to TRC). Indeed, a number of MK cadres were killed in action, fighting with Angolan government troops against UNITA.

Cadres were often also deeply frustrated as "many recruits wanted desperately to just go home and fight" (ANC 2^nd submission to TRC, 1997, p. 22). Combined with considerable leadership problems,⁴⁵ and increasing paranoia about enemy infiltration, these conditions contributed directly to two camp mutinies in the mid-1980s that claimed a number of lives.⁴⁶ The ANC's treatment of imprisoned cadres has been the subject of much criticism, prompting the establishment of several internal commissions of inquiry. One of them, the Stuart Commission, noted that:

since 1979 nearly all petty offences had been dealt with in a destructive manner 'as distinct from the earlier revolutionary constructive punishment' which sought essentially to rehabilitate offenders rather than crush them. The report … notes that the 'tragic fact is that it was at its worst in the training camps' (in ANC 2^nd submission to TRC, p. 24).

Recruitment

Exactly how many people were involved with MK has never been accurately established. Many people claim MK status although there may be no official record confirming this. Given the nature of the conflict, and given the fact that many MK cells were established internally with no channel of communication to external structures, this lack of clarity is not surprising. In 1990, it was estimated that MK members numbered 12 000 (Barrell, 1990). At this time, women constituted approximately 20% of MK cadres (Cock, 1992). The Certified Personnel Register compiled for the purpose of SANDF integration included 28 000 names from the ANC (Frankel, 2000, p. 58). The discrepancy could be explained by the fact that Barrell's figures were based only on those who had received training in exile before 1990, and did not take into account recruitments in the early 1990s, or internal recruitment.

MK was a volunteer army and members had only "to be against apartheid and have enough courage to take up arms" to qualify for entry (Motumi, 1995, p. 89). Ill health and age were the sole grounds for exclusion, alongside checks conducted by ANC intelligence to guard against infiltration (Motumi, 1995; ANC 2^nd submission to TRC). Although MK received a steady trickle of recruits throughout its history, recruitment ebbed and flowed in accordance with political events in South Africa. Early recruits who were not arrested and were able to leave South Africa included members of the Luthuli Detachment who fought with the Zimbabwean People's Revolutionary Army (ZIPRA) in Rhodesia during the Wankie campaign of 1967. In their attempt to gain an access route into South Africa, both ZIPRA and MK suffered significant casualties in conflict with Rhodesian and South African security forces (Barrell, 1990). Recruitment in the late 1960s and early 1970s remained relatively low. The period following the 1976 uprisings however, saw an exodus of young people from South Africa, many of whom left with the singular objective of joining MK. In the wake of popular uprisings in the mid-1980s, a more politically astute youth, "baptised in the struggles of the mass democratic organisations" (Motumi, 1995, p. 87) left to join MK. While the majority of cadres reportedly joined at this time (Motumi, 1995) the early 1990s also saw significant numbers of new recruits who left for training in Tanzania and Uganda and elsewhere.

Training

In addition to the training received in guerrilla warfare, cadres were given classes in literacy and political education (which focused on the history of the ANC and South Africa, international politics and aspects of Marxist-Leninism) (Motumi, 1995, p. 90). From 1986 onwards, training procedures began, to a greater degree, to reflect the requisite preparations for a future national defence force. Some recruits were sent to the USSR to be trained in conventional warfare. MK cadres were unaware of the secret negotiations between their leadership and representatives of Pretoria and may have wondered what purpose there was in learning conventional warfare methods when the situation clearly demanded increased capacity in terms of insurgency needs.

At the same time, cadres who had managed to enter South Africa conducted crash courses for volunteers inside the country. This resulted in some fundamental qualitative distinctions between those who had been trained in exile and those recruited internally. Issues around authority and control plagued some of these groupings: "Some of these recruits had sketchy political understanding of the nature of the struggle in comparison with those cadres who had gone through the intensive political and military training offered in camps in exile. Some supporters drifted in and out of structures, were never thoroughly under the discipline of the ANC and MK, yet commanders on the ground sometimes found their contributions indispensable" (ANC 2^nd submission to TRC, 1997, p. 66). Training continued until the beginning of the 1990s but also following the unbanning of the ANC, when, predominantly new recruits were sent for training in conventional warfare (Motumi, 1995, p. 91). Apparently this excluded women (Cock, 1992). Some recruits, who were to subsequently swell the ranks of the SDUs, received crash courses in the Transkei homeland.

Overall, combat roles and experiences varied considerably amongst the differently placed people who fought for the ANC. Cock categorises MK into four broad groupings, "(T)hose who left the country, were trained externally for long periods of time and remained in the camps; those who trained internally for shorter periods, which may have included one or two weeks training in Swaziland or Botswana; those who assisted and provided support for MK in the form of safe houses, courier work and reconnaissance; and those who did non-military tasks such as building underground structures" (Cock, cited in Motumi & MacKenzie, 1998).

The last two categories of combatants highlight the extent to which the notion of a clear separation between 'non-combatants' or 'civilians', and 'combatants' is often blurred in revolutionary situations (Cock, 1991, p. 4). But, even if one excludes the less action-orientated categories and focuses on those who trained for, or were directly involved in, violent conflict it was clearly not trained MK guerrillas alone who were engaged against the apartheid forces, but also local township residents – and, overwhelmingly young people.

These youth perceived themselves as frontline soldiers in the struggle for social and political change, and therefore, as defenders of their communities. In fighting against the system with their stones and home-made weapons, they became the army for liberation. (Dissel, 1997).

Militarised youth: "Comrades" and Self Defence Units

During the 1980s, the urban terrain became a key site of struggle. The state's violent suppression of protests by township residents, who rejected the imposition of illegitimate black local authorities, led protest actions to become increasingly violent and confrontational (Marks & McKenzie, 1995). One of the two "main agencies of 'resistance violence' in the 1980s were the "comrades" who were largely unemployed township youth" (Cock, 1991, p. 13).

At the 1985 Kabwe Conference the ANC had responded to intensifying state repression by calling for renewed efforts to render South Africa ungovernable. Under the banner of a "People's War", the ANC now sought to further energise efforts to mobilise the masses. In an interview broadcast in 1986, Oliver Tambo called on the people to "multiply the formation of people's defence militias everywhere, so as to meet more effectively the assault by the enemy's armed forces and the treacherous vigilantes and impis … which they employ. Our people's army, strengthened by the emerging popular militia, must intensify and spread its armed actions across the country" (ANC 1^st submission to the TRC).⁴⁷

With a limited military infrastructure, the ANC encouraged township communities to take the initiative. These calls (together with peoples' own experiences of state violence and repression) led township residents to confront the state with their own forms of violence (Marks & McKenzie, 1995). Identifying themselves as "comrades", youth were at the frontlines of the People's War against the state. "Legitimate" targets included all individuals and institutions believed to be undermining the goals of the liberation struggle, and viewed as allied to "the state". In addition to the security forces, councillors, alleged informers and other perceived collaborators were also targeted by comrades.

Problems of violence in many townships were compounded by the absence of legitimate policing, which provided space for criminal elements to operate with increasing impunity. Township combatants stepped in to fill this gap, taking on policing and adjudicating roles against common criminals, for example, those accused of theft or rape. (They also intervened in other issues such as domestic disputes). On the one hand, there was an acute lack of policing for township residents. On the other, criminals were perceived of politically - as threatening the unity of the liberation movement.

There were varying degrees of communication and support between these youths and the formal structures of MK. From the mid-1980s onwards, a growing number of MK operatives succeeded in infiltrating South Africa and set about developing, arming and training local combat units across the country. Some "comrades" were closely associated with MK cells. Many others however, were not, and while these youth combatants were powerfully influenced by the UDF, ANC and its armed wing, they nevertheless constituted a powerful and distinct phenomenon. Often without any formal training, the "comrades" identified their own enemies and employed their own methodologies, wielding increasing and, at times, terrifying power.

Forms of violence included "necklace murders" and stoning to death, in contrast to the concentration on sabotage of military and collaborationist targets by MK (Motumi, 1995, p. 88). The UDF strongly disapproved of the "necklace" method employed by the local activists, but "had very little direct control over the development of this phenomenon" (UDF Submission to TRC, p. 11). Their interventions were often ineffective. The ANC also publicly disapproved, although statements from some senior leadership figures, including Winnie Madikizela-Mandela and Alfred Nzo, reflected a degree of support for these measures, or at least an understanding of why some resorted to them. The TRC found that the leadership structures "were unable to control the youth militia – the amabutho and those running the 'people's courts' at all times, and sometimes came under threat when they tried to do so." (TRC Report, Vol. 2, Ch. 4, p. 97). The ANC however stated that it, "will always refuse to condemn those who believed they were part of the struggle for liberation … and were making their contribution by ridding communities of informers" (ANC 2^nd submission to TRC, p. 11).

Self Defence Units

The term "Self Defence Unit" (SDU) was created in, and is associated with, the conflicts of early 1990s, primarily in and around black urban residential areas. Problems of definition arise here, as community-based defence structures, in which the "comrades" played a leading role, were also an important feature of the township terrain of the 1980s. Schärf (1997) describes the "first phase" of SDUs as occurring in the late 1980s "when the youth were both part of the struggle organisations and defended their communities. Their structures were not necessarily called SDUs, but were part of street committees or youth organisations. Many youths also took part in people's courts" (Schärf, 1997).

In the 1990s the nature of these structures shifted, as did the nature of the conflict and the context in which violence manifested. These circumstances were particularly acute in the townships and informal settlements of Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal. In response to the massive upsurge in conflict, depicted both as ethnic and political, between Xhosa and Zulu, ANC and IFP, it was clear that the violence was largely random and indiscriminate, and designed to sow widespread fear and terror. This situation was exacerbated by the security forces, which, at best were seen as ignoring the plight of township residents, and at worst, as deliberately stoking the violence and directly participating in it.

In the absence of legitimate policing communities sought to defend themselves. Towards the end of 1990, in response to intense grassroots pressure and demands for protection, the ANC called for local communities to establish SDUs, and deployed certain MK and intelligence components to facilitate the process. Again, it was primarily the youth (many of whom had fought on the battlegrounds of the township streets in the 1980s) who responded to the call.⁴⁸

SDUs were theoretically envisaged as a disciplined paramilitary force, supervised by MK, guided by political leadership and accountable to the local community (Rakgoadi, 1995). In practice however, SDUs seldom functioned in this way, although the situation varied significantly from area to area.⁴⁹ Especially in the very early period, it is clear that numerous SDUs did provide very valuable protection to members of their communities.⁵⁰ In many areas, however, the situation deteriorated. The ANC struggled to control SDU structures, and in many areas was unable to openly facilitate MK management of the structures. Both the UDF and ANC emphasised community-based control and accountability,⁵¹ but in reality this did not often materialise: "The units should have been controlled by the communities in which they operated, but many communities were entirely destabilised by low-intensity violence, and organised structures at grassroots levels were almost non-existent."⁵² Constraints on leadership and processes of accountability were exacerbated by violent power struggles within and between SDUs, as well as involvement in criminal activities. In some communities, SDUs were allegedly often responsible for terrorising rather than protecting their communities (Thulare, 1997, p. 10). These aberrations, which at times appeared systemic, were attributed both to police infiltration of their structures and, more generally, to a misdirection of anger from SDUs towards elements within their own communities (Rakgoadi, 1995). This was further compounded by a lack of political control and direction. In some areas SDUs emerged that had little or no connection to the ANC or MK, despite claims to the contrary. Even in ANC-aligned units, members did not necessarily belong to or even support the ANC (Gillespie & Raditapole, 1994, p. 15).

According to the ANC, "before long there were two kinds of SDUs in existence: genuine community defence groups, and violent gangs presenting themselves as ANC-aligned SDUs" (ANC 1^st Submission to TRC). These represented two extremes of a continuum along which most SDUs fell. Revelations before the amnesty committee of the TRC illustrated the range of political and criminal matters in which the SDUs became embroiled. In some instances it was impossible to disentangle the criminal from the political: "The fact that several (SDU members) were granted amnesty for what would otherwise have been criminal acts demonstrates that the TRC also viewed their actions in the light of politically motivated crimes." (Schärf, 1997)

The central unifying factor that emerges from existing studies about SDUs is the way in which members of these structures perceived themselves as "defenders of the community" although the nature and experiences of 'defence structures' which sprung up during the early 1990s varied dramatically, and were informed by particular local conditions. Members were often involved in violence as victims or perpetrators, or as both. Some areas, especially those fending off attacks from IFP- aligned hostel residents, bore the brunt of the violence. SDUs in these areas carried specific responsibilities and suffered numerous casualties. Many SDU formations actively engaged their (real or perceived) enemies. In a few instances, hostels were attacked with mortars and hand-held rocket launchers. Some SDUs also became embroiled in the ethnic dimension of the conflict. In sections of Katlehong and Sharpeville, for example, Zulu speakers were targeted by SDU members. Elsewhere, Zulu speakers held command positions in the SDUs.

The situation was not uniform, making generalisations often impossible. Many SDUs did what they were set up to do, namely to protect their communities against aggressors, whether they be security forces, hostel residents or common criminals. The activities of other SDUs, however, were informed less by these issues and more by contestation over resources and power. A further complicating factor is that there were significant numbers of armed youths who participated in what they believed to be the defence of their communities, although they were not organised into identifiable defence structures (Marks & McKenzie, 1995; Khalane & Parlevliet, 1998).

Azanian People's Liberation Army (APLA)⁵³

As with MK, members of APLA were volunteers in a political army. Most were trained and based in exile, mainly in Tanzania. Unlike MK, APLA was active in South Africa only from the late 1980s, and intensified its operations during the 1990s, at the same time MK had officially suspended its armed struggle. Available literature suggests that by the 1990s a significant part of APLA's command structures was moved to within South Africa, predominantly to the Transkei. Operations also involved internally based cadres, drawn mainly from the ranks of the Pan Africanist Student Organisation (PASO), who had undergone a rudimentary one-week weapons-handling training course conducted by APLA in either the Transkei or Botswana. By the beginning of 1993, APLA claimed it had 10 000 soldiers, including those trained internally. The list of members submitted to the SANDF in 1994, however, consisted of 6 000 names (Lodge, 1995, pp. 108-110).

APLA has been described as a relatively disciplined force,⁵⁴ with police commenting frequently on the sophistication of its operations. Unlike MK, APLA did not differentiate between 'hard' (military) and 'soft' (civilian) targets, but regarded all white South Africans as the enemy and as part of the apartheid state's security establishment.⁵⁵ While members of the state's security forces were the main targets of APLA's earlier operations, civilians were increasingly targeted. Its preferred weapons, in contrast to MK who mainly utilised (the more impersonal) limpet mines when attacking civilians, were grenades and automatic weapons, which required "direct engagement with their targets" (Lodge, 1995, p. 113).

By the end of the 1980s APLA's reported presence in South Africa's conflicts began to be felt with attacks attributed to APLA being reported from 1986. This was a sharp departure from the first half of the 1980s when no APLA attacks were reported (Lodge, 1995, p. 107). In its submission to the TRC, the PAC stated that its performance was hindered during the early 1980s because of its "unstable" existence as a result of internal conflicts between both members of leadership, and between leadership and cadres.⁵⁶ Control (or attempts to reassert it) sometimes resulted in harsh "disciplinary" measures, particularly against cadres in the military camps and included extra-judicial executions and floggings (TRC Report, Vol. 2, Ch. 4, pp. 210-225). There is little clarity however on the extent and nature of these problems.⁵⁷

The first confirmed APLA actions were attributed to the "Scorpion Gang" from Alexandra Township in Johannesburg, who, between December 1986 and February 1987, shot dead two policemen, two soldiers and a café owner (TRC Vol. 2, Ch. 4, p. 205). Indeed, operations during this period appear to have mainly targeted policemen and soldiers. Most attacks took place in the townships around Johannesburg, but later spread to smaller towns in the Western Transvaal. In the Western Cape during 1987, APLA also formed a loose alliance with QIBLA, an Islamic fundamentalist grouping (Lodge, 1995, p. 108).

A "robbery unit" (later also referred to as a "repossession unit") was established in the late 1980s to fund the armed wing. APLA cadres acknowledged that armed robberies had increasingly become part of the modus operandi, and that it had become necessary to establish a formal unit with these responsibilities. This was justified as "repossession" of the land and its resources, which had been usurped from the people through the force of arms (APLA submission to TRC). APLA units were also encouraged to obtain weapons and other requirements through robbery if necessary. One APLA commander explained to the TRC some of the motivations behind this strategy:

[The family sheltering the APLA cadre] thought we were being paid like the SADF soldiers and we had to be explaining things. When they learnt we were not going to resolve their economic problems they then started to advise us on the targets, which were butcheries, grocery shop, and so on. In the mid and late 80s we lost more comrades in armed robberies than in actual armed confrontation with the enemy forces. Under the circumstances we just had to establish a unit that was going to specialise on robberies – even though we know we were not getting all the loot but at least we managed to operate effectively. The rest of the cadres would engage in fighting because it had become clear we could no longer expect those who were making money, mainly for themselves and partly for the struggle, to want to die in operation that did not involve "repossession" … (Vol. 2, Ch. 4, p. 208).

Unsurprisingly, theory was not always translated into practice, and the lines between the political and criminal were frequently blurred. At the same time, a number of PAC/APLA members were killed or arrested during "repossession" efforts. This was, according to APLA's High Command, a central reason for participating in the TRC: "Our major goal is to highlight the plight of hundreds of APLA/PAC members who are still languishing in prison while their pleas for release fall on deaf ears" (APLA submission to TRC). Of the 133 known applications for amnesty from affiliates of the PAC and APLA, 100 were granted.⁵⁸ It is however suspected that hundreds of other APLA cadres remain behind bars.

It was in the early 1990s that APLA was most active. After much political wrangling, and relatively late in the day, the PAC joined the formal negotiation process, while simultaneously refusing to suspend its armed struggle. APLA took advantage of the more 'liberal' conditions and the fact that access into South Africa had become far easier. The situation also enabled APLA to conduct training locally, especially in the Transkei (Lodge, 1995, p. 110). APLA attacks stood out from other manifestations of political violence at the time, as most of its victims were White. A series of assaults on white teachers working in the townships conducted by the Pan-Africanist Student Organisation (PASO) also took place. In 1992 APLA operations "more than quadrupled" (Lodge, 1995, p. 112). The following year, APLA publicly launched an intensification of armed actions under the banner of "The Year of the Great Storm". It was during this year that APLA committed some of its most infamous attacks (e.g. the Heidelberg Tavern massacre, and the St James' Church massacre). Most of these were concentrated, although not exclusively, in the Eastern and Western Cape, and generally in rural areas. Farmers and civilians were targeted, as were recreational and religious facilities frequented by white South Africans. In January 1994 APLA announced the suspension of its armed struggle.

Chapter Two: Demobilisation

Defining Demobilisation and Reintegration

Broadly defined, 'demobilisation' refers to the significant reduction of people employed by the regular military (including civilian personnel), and/or by opposition or paramilitary forces. Consequently, demobilisation is a key process whereby combatants become ex-combatants. Demobilisation generally follows a cessation of conflict with the signing of a peace accord, or the defeat of one of the fighting parties. Alternatively, it may take place for a variety of other reasons such as disarmament agreements, financial shortages, or shifts in military strategies (Motumi & McKenzie, 1998). Although demobilisation is often a key facet of demilitarisation and disarmament strategies, it can occur in contexts where the military is being strengthened, through the introduction of more high-tech strategies, for example (Motumi & Kingma lecture, 1999). Over the last decade all demobilisation processes in Africa have followed the end of a conflict (Kingma, 1996).

Although the term is used to describe mass retrenchments from the military (as effected by the SADF in the early 1990s), it has come to be more commonly associated with specific programmes created to effect and facilitate (with varying levels of attention and success) the transposition of military personnel into civil society. Mass retrenchments might then be defined as processes of 'informal demobilisation' whereby large numbers of combatants become ex-combatants without a demobilisation programme in place to address this transition (Cock, 1993, p. 1).

Demobilisation programmes usually involve the physical discharge of the soldier from the military with some short-term social reintegration assistance. This typically involves the congregation of soldiers at assembly points, disarmament and administration. Short-term social reintegration in the form of 'demobilisation packages' may include financial or educational assistance, health care, psychological counselling and/or assistance in securing accommodation or employment (Cilliers, 1996, p. 95; Motumi & McKenzie, 1998, p. 183).

The extent to which demobilisation programmes include support for social reintegration varies from country to country. Reintegration, however, poses a number of critical challenges, and fundamentally informs the success of any demobilisation process (Williams, 1998, p. 221). Ex-combatants who have spent much of their lives in a military environment, must in many cases, find alternative employment, a place to live, adapt to a civilian mind-set, and be accepted by the communities into which they are integrating (Kingma & Motumi lecture, 1999). As such, this is a complex process, which involves social, material and psychological aspects (Motumi & McKenzie, 1998, p. 183). Aptly defined by the Uganda Veterans' Assistance Board, reintegration can be understood as the, "sum total of processes by means of which the veteran is helped to become an acclimatised member of the community. It also refers to the actual state of feeling part of and being accepted by the members of the community belonging to the resettlement area" (Mondo, 1996, p 92). As a result, civil society has a fundamental role to play in all facets of the reintegration process. Often the social and cultural dimensions of reintegration are left entirely to local communities while formal programmes tend to focus on economic issues (Coelho & Vines, 1995 cited in Taju, 1998).

Why are Demobilisation and Reintegration Programmes Important?

"For every country that embarks on a demobilisation and reintegration process, the foremost aim is to avoid or minimise the security threat posed by ex-combatants" (Mokalobe, 1999, p. 23). With few skills beyond those in the 'instruments of war', it is feared that unemployed ex-combatants could become disaffected and turn to crime or political insurrection; threaten national reconciliation efforts and/or, indirectly, economic reconstruction (World Bank, 1996). Consequently, there is general agreement that demobilisation and reintegration are critical processes necessary to avert possible threats to security and stability, and are motivated as such in a context of limited resources and competing societal needs.

Over the last 20 years, ex-combatants have frequently been cited as one of the main threats to post-war stability in African countries that have undergone demobilisation processes following the cessation of conflicts. The term 'post-war stability' is somewhat misleading however, as societies in transition are typically beset by a variety of problems, frequently involving violence. Southern Africa is no exception. "The widespread proliferation of violent crime, banditry, illicit trading in arms and drugs, and the privatisation of security functions, particularly in the form of mercenaries and vigilante groups, have accelerated since the outbreak of formal peace within the region" (Willet, 1998, p. 410). The extent to which these countries can be regarded as post-conflict is therefore questionable. Equally, the extent to which ex-combatants are involved in, and responsible for, these problems is unclear and contested. While anecdotal evidence clearly suggests some level of involvement, no statistical data or detailed overview of the situation is available.

Demobilisation processes in the region face considerable challenges, both in terms of the contextual environment and the specific needs of the ex-combatants themselves. Research conducted in countries such as Mozambique, Uganda, Angola, Chad and Zimbabwe has found that ex-combatants often have limited education, lack basic marketable job skills and, sometimes, the social skills necessary for economic and social reintegration (World Bank, 1996, p. 18).

The effects of inadequate demobilisation processes can take years to materialise. In 1998, eight years after demobilisation in Namibia, ex-combatants from both the South West African Territorial Force (SWATF) and People's Liberation Army of Namibia (PLAN) launched protest marches and sit-in strikes, demanding jobs and pensions (Kingma, 2000). Recent events in Zimbabwe have demonstrated the potency of disaffected ex-combatant elements.⁵⁹ Indeed, "the ways ex-combatants were treated in their desire to return to civilian life has been one of the most controversial issues in post-independence Zimbabwe" (Oloa cited in Cock, 1993, p. 13). Both cases illustrate that even when demobilisation programmes are implemented, the threat is not automatically averted. South Africa's own history provides a telling example of why governments may consider it important to appease ex-combatants. Disillusioned veterans of the First World War "contributed significantly to the defeat of Smuts's South African Party in 1924" (Gibbs cited in Cock, 1993). In this instance, demobilisation involved little more than the disbanding of troops.

"The state has to take responsibility for its soldiers after a war" argued Cock (1993), in favour of a demobilisation programme for former MK soldiers in South Africa. Indeed, the overall responsibility of the state is keenly felt by academics and organisations participating in or writing about demobilisation and reintegration programmes. "The ultimate objective of all demobilisation and reintegration efforts should be to improve the welfare of people" (Nubler, 1997, p. 1). In South Africa it was argued that MK soldiers should be granted demobilisation support on the basis of the hardships they endured during the conflict and on returning to the country; their particularly vulnerable status in civil society, and as a gesture of reconciliation (Cock, 1993). The extent to which this humanitarian aspect forms a primary motivation for governments, however, is unclear. 'Efforts' targeting demobilised combatants in Namibia, for example, have been described merely as "containment strategies" to minimise unrest (Preston, 1997, p. 463).⁶⁰

Because war is such a patriotic affair, those who have fought in it require recognition at a national level when it is over. A central component to the humanitarian way of thinking about demobilisation and reintegration in post conflict situations is a "debt of gratitude" for the sacrifices that fighters have made. In South Africa, both those fighting against, and for, the apartheid government claimed moral justifications for their involvement. Liberation movements extolled the virtues of those who fought against oppressive political and economic systems. White South Africa, on the other hand, was inculcated with propaganda of their own historical mission. Indeed, getting soldiers to fight wars usually involves persuading them that doing so is in the best interests of the nation.

Most ex-conscripts report that they, their peers and their community saw service in the SADF as a natural part of growing up and "becoming a man" … . The national education system consistently presented military training as a given part of the rites of passage of white men and the moral duty of anyone concerned with defending order and morality (Christianity) against the forces of evil and chaos (Soviet - inspired Communism) (De Ridder in TRC Vol 4, p. 224).

These soldiers are likely to feel betrayed, albeit for different reasons to their liberation fighter counterparts, if their contribution to what many of them fully believed was in the best interests of their country (or alternatively, were conscripted into against their will) goes unrecognised.

Obstacles and Challenges to Reintegration

The success of demobilisation and reintegration programmes depends on adequately addressing the problems that ex-combatants encounter in the often stressful process of moving from military to civilian life. With little experience outside of the military and limited skills suitable to civilian work, they are handicapped when competing in (often already saturated) labour markets (Cock, 1993; Motumi & McKenzie, 1998). Furthermore, they frequently suffer from psycho-social problems as a result of their exposure to, and participation in, violent conflict (Motumi & McKenzie, 1998).

Although there are a number of thematic concerns that affect all reintegration processes (such as the need to establish alternative income-generating opportunities and to deal with war trauma) different contexts, needs, and opportunities necessitate different approaches. In Uganda, for example, access to land was central in framing the reintegration experiences of former guerrillas. The landless, along with the disabled, were reported to be exceptional in their negative experience of the demobilisation process (Collier, 1996). In South Africa, ex-combatants have had a variety of experiences. The needs of former SDU members (whose operations may have been based entirely in the local community) or former MK and APLA cadres (who were in exile) are likely to vary considerably with one another, as well as with, for example, former SADF Permanent Force members who received retrenchment packages.

Cock's 1993 survey investigating the situations of 180 MK cadres returning to South Africa as "unarmed civilians" illustrates the multifaceted challenges that face combatants as they attempt to reintegrate, economically and socially, into civilian life. The bulk of respondents were unemployed and experienced difficulties securing accommodation. Many were reliant on their families for support, which contributed to considerable levels of tension and frustration. These problems were compounded by the disorientation and alienation they experienced on arriving home. Many of them were suffering from emotional or health complaints and displaying symptoms of trauma. The ANC had suspended the armed struggle, but despite an ongoing negotiation process, to all intents and purposes South Africa remained in a state of civil war. Cadres often felt helpless in the face of ongoing violence that terrorised the communities they had returned to. Many of the problems identified coincide with the reported experiences of former combatants in other countries. These and other problems are discussed below in more detail.

Although Cock's study (1993) was conducted prior to the implementation of the formal demobilisation process, more recent research suggests that many ex-combatants continue to experience a number of these difficulties (Motumi & McKenzie,1998; Mokalobe, 1999; Mashike, 1999⁶¹).

Unemployment, poverty and dashed expectations

Instead of coming home with pride they came home to destitution and joined the unemployed masses of our society (Mashike, 1999, p. 4).

Hostile economic circumstances typically await ex-combatants returning from war. Physical infrastructure and the environment have often been damaged or destroyed during the conflict. This can have severe implications, especially for the agricultural sector on which many developing countries rely to feed their populations.

Angola, once self-sufficient in food production, now relies on food aid to feed its urban population while agricultural exports have all but collapsed (Berdal, 1996, p. 46).

The situation is exacerbated by limited economic options, and governments faced with substantial debt, must make difficult decisions (on issues such as privatisation and Structural Adjustment Programmes) in return for economic assistance (Kingma, 2000). These processes invariably result in job losses in contexts where job creation remains the priority concern. In addition, protracted conflict and instability has usually encouraged skills' flight (Berdal, 1996). The economics of societies in transition seriously curtail the reintegration possibilities available to ex-combatants.

Compared with other countries in the region, South Africa is markedly better off with a relatively strong economy that provides policy options not necessarily available to others. The low-intensity nature of the internal conflict did not result in the devastation of infrastructure and natural resources. Nor must South Africa deal with the legacy of landmines, which continue to frustrate reconstruction in other countries, such as Mozambique. Despite these advantages, the economic implications of apartheid's history pose enormous challenges to reconstruction, reconciliation and development. And issues around the reintegration of ex-combatants in South Africa are complicated precisely because of the more sophisticated economy. Here, subsistence farming, often considered a key reintegration strategy in less developed countries, does not provide a viable means of production for ex-combatants (Cilliers, 1996, p. 11). This places a heavier reliance on employment within the formal urban sector. To a certain extent this was expected, as evidenced by the working class rhetoric of the liberation movement. A U-turn in economic policy by the ANC and adherence to conservative macro-economic policies, however, have been criticised for facilitating the loss of over half a million jobs in the formal sector alone since 1994. Economic opportunities for former combatants and others have been squeezed even further.

Although employment in the formal economy remains a possibility for some, the stereotyping of ex-combatants can, and does, militate against securing this employment. In Mozambique for example, "employers, including the government and its local departments, tend to look at ex-combatants as potentially violent people who would be likely to disrupt the workplace" (Vines, 1998, p. 6). A similar stigmatisation of ex-combatants by the private sector took place following demobilisation in Zimbabwe (Musemwa 1996).

Most of the 180 MK exiles participating in the 1993 survey (Cock's, referred to above) were unemployed, living in poverty, and dependent on their families for basic support. Although similar circumstances are faced by numerous South Africans, ex-combatants tend to be a particularly vulnerable group by virtue of their disrupted education, their limited experience in civil society (and often in their home countries), and their lack of marketable skills (Cock, 1993).

Expectations regularly run high following the termination of conflict, as the cessation of hostilities and broad-based agreements are translated as a panacea for political and economic challenges. As negotiation unfolded in South Africa, some commentators warned that the struggle was not over. "The very first obstacle to establishing democracy may well be the assumption that it will be easy to attain, and that the hard part of the exercise will be the abolition of apartheid. In other words, the struggle for democracy will scarcely have begun when the actual liberation struggle is over" (Southall, 1992, p. 30).

Generally, the material situations of former combatants from the statutory forces seems to better than their counterparts. But this is not always the case, with some groups, particularly those drawn from foreign components, struggling to cope in the new dispensation.⁶²

The poverty to which many ex-combatants returned confounded their expectations of what peace would hold for them. A 1998 study (Skinner) of returned exiles in the Western Cape found that, "most (had) expected to come into a situation where they could at least obtain housing and employment". MK cadres expected a hero's welcome and special treatment in recognition of the sacrifices they had made (Skinner, 1998; Cock, 1993). But when, for many, their homecoming was characterised by poverty and unemployment, resentments surfaced. These remain and are often directed at those who are perceived as not having contributed to the struggle, yet are beneficiaries of transition in the "new" South Africa.

I am very bitter … what makes it worse is to see people who have never gone to exile, some of whom never even cared about the ANC or were interested in the revolution but today they are holding jobs in the organisation and are driving smart cars. At the same time those of us who have fought for the liberation have to start from scratch (in Cock, 1993, p. 4).

Disillusionment and resentment both towards those who are perceived as not having made any sacrifices, and/or towards former leaders (who have often become present leaders) are not uncommon among former combatants,⁶³ especially in the context of liberation politics (as in Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Namibia, and South Africa). In Zimbabwe, for example, a central motivation for the organisation of ex-combatants into the Zimbabwe War Veterans' Association (ZWVA) was their sense that, "most of them were not benefiting from the struggle that they fought – and many of their friends died in … many disappointed demobilised ex-fighters see how their leaders are running the country into economic and political crisis – [but] are meanwhile living the good-life" (Kingma, 2000).⁶⁴

Family tensions and pressures

For MK returnees, material needs often contributed to family tensions and psychological pressures. Families of exiles had often experienced financial and emotional crises, as well as physical harassment, detention, or worse as a result of their relationships with exiles. Returning family members could place additional pressures on already overstretched domestic resources and many returnees reported feelings of being a burden on relatives, or having had this conveyed by family members. In addition drops in living standards sometimes accompanied the return of the soldier / exile. As one of Mokalobe's interviewees explained,

I was staying with family but because of problems I decided to