Constitutional Charade

CHANGE FOR THE BETTER doesn't come quickly: It look the Allies five long years to defeat the Nazis. Senator Joe McCarthy lasted almost as long before getting the boot. Vietnam dragged on--and on--for a decade. And the Watergate crowd clung gamely to the reins of control until they were ousted three years after the investigation of their activities began. But in some places, the concept of even grudging positive change doesn't seem to exist.

It's been 35 years since apartheid became law for South Africans, and during that time, maintenance of the status quo--and even out-right regression--has often been masked by a show of reform. The latest such charade is a new constitution. Proposed by Prime Minister P.W. Botha, the plan calls for the creation of a three-chamber legislature, with separate representative houses for the country's five million whites, two and a half million coloreds and nearly one million Indians. But it excludes representation for the nation's 23 million Blacks.

The Botha constitution--adopted by the white parliament and awaiting approval of the electorate by referendum on November 2--is ingenious because it not only serves to keep Blacks "in their place" but effectively pushes them back a step as well by injecting more antagonism into their relationship with the Indians and coloreds. The major parties of the latter two groups have accepted the plan because it makes them feel a legitimate part of the system: Their espousal of the constitution is, they claim, based on the belief that it will allow them to push for change from the inside--change not just for themselves but for Blacks too.

Yet the Indians and coloreds are being given absolutely no real power. And Blacks perceive their willingness to go along with Botha as a poorly disguised sell-out, a "take-whatever-we-can-get-forget-the-other-fellow" attitude. Botha has been quite open in declaring that Blacks will not have representation during his lifetime, nor for that matter during his children's lifetime. So it's easy to empathize with the Black view that they have been the victims of the ultimate divide-and-conquer strategy.

Paradoxically, Botha's plan may not win white approval in the referendum. The small group of progressive whites that continues to fight for a semblance of equality sees through the initiative and wants to nix it. More important, the ultra-conservative whites--Botha, believe it or not, has somehow become a "moderate"--are afraid the constitution will give too much power to the Indians and coloreds and will pave the way for eventual Black representation.

No matter what the outcome of the referendum is, the present debate perfectly illustrates the pernicious nature of "reform" in South Africa. And coupled with the success of the homelands policy--which so far has displaced 15 million Blacks to the worst land in the country--it serves to underline the dilemma faced by Western leaders in formulating an approach to dealing with the apartheid regime.

THERE ARE, in essence, two broad options for our South Africa policy. If we believe that reform of the system is possible, we should stay in and use whatever leverage, we can acquire to direct that reform. If, however, we believe that the situation in South Africa shows signs of stagnating, and holds no promise for positive change, then pulling out and letting events run their course would be the logical move.

Conservatives in the West have tended to support the first option, liberals the second. Given this fact, you might say that neither group deserves high marks for consistency. Indeed, these same conservatives dismiss increased contact with the Soviet Union as a viable foreign policy tool, and these same liberals push detente as a solution to easing East-West tension and making the USSR a nicer place.

The liberals, at least, have some good arguments to use in their own defense. The Soviet government's constituency is, ultimately, the Soviet people. In the long run, the interests of these people will have to be taken into account if the Soviet leaders wish to remain in power. Advocates of detente see their policy as a means for showing the Soviets the benefits contained in economic--and by implication socio-political--reform.

In South Africa, though, the government's constituency consists in reality of a fraction of the population: South African whites. This constituency has no desire for change; in fact, its fear or reform borders on paranoia. More important still, whites in South Africa perceive the system of separation they have set up to be divinely ordained--the will of God. White South Africans are a deeply religious people: an overwhelming majority attend church regularly. And the notion of the separation of church and state is unknown. Religious--and hence ideological--beliefs are passed down in the schools.

So thoroughly has ideology taken over that the possibility of reasonable change that comes from young people succeeding their elders is faint. This deep-seated ideology, combined with the perception on the part of whites that Black, majority rule would mean their peril, makes the odds for peaceful reform slim indeed.

And yet, should the West pull out of South Africa by ending economic and military support for the government in Pretoria, cutting off ties with the business community, and curtailing cultural, educational and scientific exchange, the siege mentality already in the air would become still stronger. Violent conflict would be precipitated. And the results of such a confrontation could prove even more disastrous for South African Blacks than the present barely tolerable situation. Should Blacks be forced to take power through violent means, the prospects for a democratic, Black-ruled South Africa are not encouraging. An entire generation of Blacks is already being schooled in violence. As one South African liberal in exile in this country says, violence "cannot simply be thrown off like an overcoat with the job is done."

IDEALLY, a way out of the South African mess does exist. Power sharing with a gradual evolution toward majority rule would allow Blacks to learn the skills necessary to run a country and perhaps build up a modicum of trust between Blacks and whites that would ease the latter's paranoia. Realistically, though, such a change is simply not forthcoming. The situation is already too polarized to allow a meeting of interests on a common ground. And the West is left with the choice between two singularly unattractive policy options.

Maybe, though, a middle line between two extremes should be tried. Maintaining cultural, educational and scientific ties within a framework of strictly adhered-to non-racist guidelines would benefit the South African population as a whole. Continuing business contacts based on more carefully defined "Sullivan principles" might get the all-important business community involved in reform--indeed, it is from this very community, whose bottom line is profit and therefore a stable, efficient, economic system, that some real attempts at liberalization have come. And cutting off economic and military aid to the regime itself would get the message across that we will have nothing to do with a racist state. And yet maintaining non-governmental ties would avoid the outright isolation that breeds paranoia among whites.

Such a scenario presupposes cooperation among the Western allies, a phenomenon that has been markedly absent from the realm of international relations of late. And it necessitates the acquiescence of the Black ruled states in Africa like Zimbabwe, states that depend on trade with South Africa to such an extent that they may not be able to forego economic relations with Pretoria. Still, policy options being what they are, we shouldn't be afraid to grab at straws in a violent wind. It's possible that the one we latch onto might provide the foundation for real, positive change.