Anne Klein Women's Award 2017: Laudatory Speech by Ulrike Poppe

Dear Nomarussia Bonase, dear friends, distinguished guests,

It is a great honor for me to participate in this tribute to a woman as courageous and deserving as Nomarussia Bonase by delivering this laudatory speech. Through her tireless struggle for justice and truth, Nomarussia is committed to overcoming all forms of discrimination that persist even after the end of the apartheid regime.

“Look to South Africa!” was a refrain heard in Germany in the mid-1990s in all forums dealing with how to address the GDR’s past. The victims of apartheid can forgive; the country is on the path to reconciliation, which frees both perpetrators and victims and heals the wounds. This call came primarily from those who wanted to keep the Stasi files sealed and demanded a general amnesty. But it wasn’t that simple in Germany, and it isn’t in South Africa either.

Without a doubt, the work of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) deserves great respect. It seemed to chart a course toward overcoming the deep divisions in society. In fact, it was established to “overcomethe divisions and struggles of the past that led to grave human rights violations … and left a legacy of hatred, fear, guilt, and feelings of revenge”—as the commission stated.

A look at South Africa today, however, raises doubts about the success of the commission’s two-and-a-half-year effort. It has become clear that coming to terms with the past is a long, complicated process that cannot be wrapped up within 30 months. While the crimes of the apartheid era can no longer be denied—after victims and survivors recounted their experiences of suffering and perpetrators confessed to their crimes— Yet, in the end, the former rulers and their henchmen have largely gotten off scot-free. The white beneficiaries of apartheid were able to return to their positions of power without remorse.

This has left a bitter taste in the mouths of those who had so fervently hoped for just redress. For the sake of the truth, justice was sacrificed, say those who are disappointed. But with the end of the commission, the door to the past was far from being closed. Forgetting cannot be mandated. The victims of apartheid organized themselves into “Khulumani” and stood firm in their demands: the legal and social reckoning must continue.

The “Khulumani Support Group” was founded as early as 1995. Initially a women’s self-help group, it advocated for truth-seeking and compensation. It has since grown—with 104,000 members—into South Africa’s largest grassroots movement. “Khulumani” gives a voice to all those who continue to suffer from the legacy of the apartheid era to this day and demands state reparations on their behalf. It is suing former supporters of apartheid, as well as numerous companies and banks, for reparations.

I share a lot in common with Nomarussia Bonase. We are both dealing with the legacy of our respective previous regimes. We help ensure that the injustices of the past are acknowledged and that the suffering of those affected is recognized. And we advocate for the consequences of repression to be mitigated through compensation and assistance. But there are also very significant differences: The rehabilitation laws in Germany guarantee a legal entitlement (even if this is not satisfactory for all victim groups). My staff and I are paid by the state, and we have a budget at our disposal that allows us to support other initiatives for coming to terms with the past. Nomarussia and “Khulumani” are on their own. They have to fight to make their voices heard; they complain that the reparations once promised by those in power still have not materialized.

Nomarussia is the National Coordinator at “Khulumani.” “Khulumani” means: to speak out loud, to speak up, to take the floor. The TRC had begun to break the silence. But this process will not be complete as long as apartheid victims continue to face discrimination, as long as not all crimes have been acknowledged, and as long as so many are still forced to live in social hardship. The ongoing—and apparently intensifying—polarization of South African society has stalled the long-awaited healing process.

Through “Khulumani,” Nomarussia Bonase advocates for political recognition of the injustices perpetrated particularly against women. She has experienced firsthand what hardship and oppression mean. When her mother was heavily pregnant with her, she was raped by apartheid henchmen. Her father, a miner, found her lying in a pool of blood and was able to save the lives of both mother and child at the last minute. That was in 1966.

As a result, Nomarussia was born prematurely. Even as a child, she realized that her life would require a constant struggle. Her struggle began with her refusal to accept the inferior Bantu education system for Black Africans. She managed to start school earlier than other Black children and completed two grades per school year. In high school, she became politically active, encouraging her female classmates to protest against injustice. How she would have loved to attend university, but her parents could not afford to pay for such an education. She found a job at a transportation company, where, true to her convictions, she worked to organize the workers into a union.

During the violent crackdown on Johannesburg’s miners in 1993, before the onset of democratization, her brother was killed. According to African culture, women were not allowed to search for family members in the morgues. She mustered all her courage and prevailed. Amid all the bodies—men, women, and children—she finally found her brother. In this way, she was able to prevent him from disappearing into a mass grave, unidentified.

Nomarussia was disappointed by the TRC—despite her initial hopes. Sexual violence against women was not addressed. Rape was swept under the rug. The TRC’s recommendations to the government—particularly regarding compensation payments—were scarcely implemented. It is evident that massive pressure from civil society is needed to remind those currently in power of their promises and obligations. “Khulumani” calls for adequate support for the affected groups. It advocates for recognition of the suffering caused by racial fanaticism and for the commemoration of the victims.

Here in Europe, we can hardly imagine how much courage, strength, and perseverance it takes to push forward with these demands against all those who sit in the upper echelons of society, and who, as the township poet James Matthews puts it,“don’t give a damn about the poor, unemployed, and homeless masses.”

But Nomarussia is a fighter. She has been her whole life. She raised four children. She lost her husband. She never gave up.

She sees the root cause of the 2012 massacre of the Marikana Mine strikers in the persistent inequality of living conditions. Thirty-four miners were shot dead by the police. They left behind families in dire straits. “Khulumani” gave them a space to articulate their pain, their grief, and their despair. It enabled them to participate in the commission of inquiry established by the government. And it offered them trauma-healing workshops in which they could express their experiences of suffering through art. In their interpretations of the images, they described their fears for the future and their expectations of the government.“The pain runs deep and burns, and it just won’t go away,” reads one of these accounts.“All the promises that the government and Lonmin made to the families of the men who died in the massacre—they haven’t kept them to me or my children. …Still, I won’t give up,” the text continues . “I will ask ‘Khulumani’ and my lawyers to present my demands… I will put on my husband’s boots and fight for my human rights.” “I hate the South African police , ” writes another bereaved family member. “I will never forgive Lonmin and the mining industry for impoverishing us and deliberately taking our loved ones away from us. … We will make our voices heard.”

That sounds unforgiving. Anyone who reads these stories can easily understand why there can be no talk of reconciliation here. Reconciliation requires an admission of guilt and a process of coming to terms with it. And coming to terms with the past does not merely mean finding out what happened; it must always be linked to the goal of freeing our shared future from this burden. The word “reconciliation” has its biblical origin in atonement. Reconciliation means: to atone for guilt. The best way to atone for guilt is by helping the families who have suffered, enabling them to continue living a dignified and socially integrated life despite their painful loss. The majority of South Africans are still waiting for a better life.

With the social upheaval of 1994—the beginning of democratic reforms—racist ways of thinking and inhumane behaviors did not disappear overnight. We know this from Germany after the end of the Nazi era and after the Autumn Revolution in the GDR: the legacy of authoritarian regimes lingers for a long time—and, incidentally, not only among those who profited from the former system.

This makes it all the more necessary to make patient efforts and take a variety of small steps to draw attention to ongoing injustices and to uphold human rights standards. As long as discrimination and a lack of prospects persist, the idea of reconciliation remains largely abstract.

Nomarussia especially encourages women not to simply accept their situation, to raise their voices against the denial of their rights, and to break the silence. Interest in the apartheid past is waning in society. Nomarussia works with Khulumani to combat this forgetting and calls on the government and the public to confront the legacy of the past. Her colleague at “Khulumani,” Marjorie Jobson, describes her this way: “Nomarussia is a person with a deep sense of justice and the conviction that the struggle for justice will ultimately bear fruit. A woman who points the way toward a future of equality… who listens with such intensity that she empowers people to find their voice.”

Nomarussia helps other women move beyond the role of victim, take action themselves, and take control of their own lives. She leads an organization that helps heal the wounds inflicted by the apartheid regime. South Africa under apartheid had supporters in large parts of the Western world. This should compel us to play our part in alleviating the resulting damage. The West, too, has a duty to make amends here.

I hope that this award ceremony will bring greater public attention to the remarkable work of Nomarussia Bonase and “Khulumani,” thereby garnering sympathy and support.

I am delighted, dear Nomarussia, and I thank you for being here and for giving us all, through your life and your work, courage and confidence that the world can be changed for the better. I wish you continued strength, good health, steadfast allies, and a fulfilling life in every way. And I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart.