
Eugene Terre'blanche, leader of the far-right/Neo-Nazi group, the Afrikanerweerstands Beweeging in South Africa during his hey-day. Addressing his followers in the former Pietersberg in the old Northern Transvaal, May 1985. ilagardien©l'engagé
The gruesome murder of Eugene Terreblanche, the leader of the Far-Right/Neo-Nazi Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweeging (AWB) movement in South Africa has produced another episode that is reflective of the tense race relations in this beleaguered country. Perhaps understandably, it has evoked much hysteria among South Africans at home and abroad. As with most horrific events, especially those that touch a raw nerve of society, the hysteria has blurred the boundaries between sense and nonsense. There is a multiplicity of contexts that provide the basis for the crime; at least four stand out and can help provide clarity on the event and that require some examination: the historical exploitation of farm workers; the gruesome nature of the crime; the propaganda windfall for racists and white supremacists, and the Malema Factor. When considered jointly these contexts place the murder into a clearer picture than those that evoke claims of a simple “political murder”.
Historical Exploitation of Farm Workers
One known fact is that Terre’blanche was killed following an argument with two employees on his farm. The South African police confirmed that the alleged killers were 21-year-old man and 15-year-old boy who allegedly killed Terre’blanche because “they were not paid for the work they did on the farm”. This non-payment of workers is consistent with the long history of white farmers in South Africa exploiting indigenous African. From exploiting the !Kung San as part of South Africa’s regional migrant worker system, to the veritable servitude into which indigenous Africans were forced as farm labourers – it is impossible to consider the murder of Terre’blanche outside this context.
Notwithstanding significant gains of the Basic Conditions of Employment Act 75 of 1997 (BCEA), most farm labourers in South Africa often live their entire lives on a farm. Like much of the injustice and inequality that emerged since 1994, apartheid’s legal order of farm work was transformed to serfdom under present conditions. The pass laws have been removed, but farm workers under the new dispensation have few options of leaving the farms where they may have spent all their lives – or seek work elsewhere. Indeed one of the key components of the system is that many workers not only work on the farms, but also live there as part of their payment and/or contract.
For many workers, therefore, the loss of their job may mean the loss of their house and home and the farm owner is able to exercise profound control over the workers’ daily lives and their very material existence, resulting in a critical imbalance of power between employer and employee. This is one context that provides some clarity on the brutal murder of Terre’blanche (the farm owner), by two of his workers in the most gruesome nature.

A supporter of the old National Party who was was attacked by Eugene Terreblanche's followers at a meeting in former Pietersberg in the old Northern Transvaal in May 1985. ilagardien©l'engagé
Brutality of the Crime
It is one thing to make the obvious statement that the nature of the crime or that the bludgeoning to death of a man in his sleep was brutal. If, however, we want a better explanation, one that would help establish a more appropriate context for crimes of this nature we may want to look at two causative/explanatory issues: the violence with which the crime was committed and the means used. We can dispense with the latter, first. Let us take a step back to a remark by Winnie Mandela several years ago, when she provided what became known as a cryptic defence for the gruesome “necklace” method of murder, where a car tyre filled with petrol is place around the victim’s neck and set alight. The horrendous nature of the method has been discussed exhaustively; in March 1985, Ms Mandela was reported to have said: “with our boxes of matches and our necklaces we shall liberate this country”.
One other way of looking at this statement – and there is no getting away from its brutality – is that if the activists had conventional weapons they might have employed those. Yet another, and this brings us back to the Terre’blanche murder is to consider the concept of “rebounding” of colonial violence. So, we may say that the people who murdered Terre’blanche were strategic in their deed, in the sense that they attacked the victim when they felt safe enough to do so, they used the means at hand (as opposed to conventional small arms), and given the long history of violence and injustice against indigenous Africans by whites in Southern Africa, they imagined that brutality was the only effective way of expressing their anger against their employer. This tendency to “rebound” is as complex as it is pervasive.
Wendy Hamblet, a scholar who has done extensive research into the “philosophy of evil” and on holocaust, genocide studies, human nature/nurture and violence in general, explained this rebounding most pithily in the following manner:
“Suffering teaches its victims that brutality is the only effective defence against a threatening world. It further teaches that violence is legitimate in the hands of ‘righful’ powers. The vicitimised therefore often continue forth from their cruel histories locked psychically within a dialectical identity, trapped within the violence-legitimating myths of domination, and enamoroured of the methodologies of cruelty bequeathed them by their oppressors. … victims can turn to the pitiless practices of their oppressors to seek re-empowerment [and] construct their identities and establish a secure place in their worlds by aggressively expressing their strength against proximate powers. In the worst cases of historical abuse, violence rebounds in frightening force from oppressor to victim populations”
In short, it may be stated that a group of people (as an historical and inter-generational phenomenon) who have experienced unspeakable cruelty, physical and structural violence, such as indigenous Africans at the hands of colonial and white settlers, might show a tendency towards cruelty and brutality that is a rebound from that which they experienced over an extended period. To be sure, one need to only consider the mutilation of indigenous Africans in the Congo region during Belgian rule, where violent amputations were the preferred method of Europeans as a way of inflicting wounds that won’t disappear.

Victims of King Leopold of Belgium's policy of amputations - the wounds that won't go away - against indigenous Africans in the Congo region
So, we can not dismiss the brutality of the crime against Terre’blanche, but should at least try to understand it in its broader context, and not simply in terms of what it means for white people in South Africa.
A Propaganda Windfall for the Far Right and for Whites, in General
It is impossible to avoid cynical exploitation of Terre’blanche’s murder by whites to make claims of “political murder” or of renewed contentions about “African savagery” or “brutality”. Over the past 100 years we, humans, have napalmed groups of people, and carpet-bombed societies in South East Asia, inflicted a near mass-extinction of Jewish people during the Second World War and funded human rights abuses in the oil fields of Nigeria. There is no getting away from our penchant for cruelty. What seems to have happened in South Africa is a veritable rise of white anger over the murder of a white supremacist who often vowed to start a race war.
There really is no evidence to suggest that whites have become an oppressed group in South Africa; they are, undoubtedly, among the victims of crime in the country. Indeed, much of the wealthy elite in the country continue to paddle complacently in the pool of white hegemony. What Terre’blanche’s murder seems to have done is galvanise a small group of right-wingers who have been unable to accept indigenous African leadership (their opposition is often couched in comfortable discourse on crime or affirmative action) and now conceive of the event as evidence of a political killing.
Let us consider this carefully. We can not say with absolute certainty that the alleged murderers killed Terre’blanche for his political beliefs. They reportedly killed him because of a labour dispute; it has been suggested that he failed to or refused to pay them for their labour. To exploit the situation by using it as evidence that black people in South Africa hate white people is nonsense; at the extreme, black people are quite angry that, in general, most of their lives have not improved and consider their erstwhile oppressors to be at least partially to blame for this.
It is, of course, tragic for Terre’blanche’s family, but it is an indictment on society when people are forced to address their labour disputes through brutal physical violence. It does not help, of course, that a few political leaders in South Africa have encouraged the tendency to apply murderous violence against their compatriots.
The Malema Factor
In a society where marginalised people feel they have no access to resources or the law, or where they continue to live under oppressive conditions, there is invariably an increased tendency towards seeking forms of justice through violence. Political leaders are often expected to deal with these tendencies in a way that placates the economically dominant in society. For instance (this is a very simple example) if car hijacking is rampant, the wealthy, who drive more expensive cars tend to feel more aggrieved than people without cars or those whose cars are, well, close to being sent to the scrapyard. In most societies it is the middle classes and the wealthy who are among the more prominent victims of crime. What is dangerous, though, is for political leaders to create an environment in which the recourse to violence is considered to be permissible. Enter Julius Malema (which is not to say that Terre’blanche himself has not delivered subtle and insidious exhortations for violence).
From a distance Malema seems to be an odious character. In the US and Europe we read mainly the news produced by newspapers owned by vested corporate interests and information on social networking sites. It is safe to say that in South Africa social networking sites are dominated by the middle classes and the affluent. Among this group of people Malema is the devil incarnate – I do not, for a minute, suggest that he does not hold toxic views or that his incendiary “messages” to kill farmers do not make him a thoroughly dangerous person. His conduct has come under criticism from some of the most intelligent and reasonable people in the country. From a litany of nastiness and insensitivity, Malema’s comments on date rape, more than a year ago was criticised by Kumi Naidoo, an activist and honorary president of Civicus in the following manner:
As a South African man I hope that all South Africans are ashamed that our leaders feel comfortable expressing such atrocious views of women. It is up to our country’s leadership to make sure that Julius Malema and others know that these views are unacceptable. It is not only degrading, but it reveals a shocking insensitivity towards the issue of rape and gender-based violence that is so sadly prevalent throughout South African society.
On the same matter, Lisa Vetten, a researcher and policy analyst associated at the time with the Tshwaranang Legal Advocacy Centre to End Violence Against Women said:
What do the women’s rights’ activists in the ANC think when Jacob Zuma and his acolyte Julius Malema call for the internment of pregnant teenage girls in education camps? Were all those conceptions the result of parthenogenesis, with no male involvement or responsibility? Do they – like Malema – think Zuma’s accuser had a “nice time”? And how do they uphold a man whose trial for rape was a textbook illustration of legal sexism?
There can be no doubt that Malema is a problematic figure; that he taps the basest sentiments among us and directs them at others through acts of abuse and violence. It is, however, his “song” to kill farmers, which may be added to the contexts that shaped Terre’blance’s murder. What we know about the murder, based on police statements, is that the motive of the alleged killers was a labour dispute. What may be said, based on the evidence, is that the killers used the means at their disposal. What is clear, in a more general sense, is that the crime was enabled, as it were, by a set of historical conditions stemming from years of oppression and abuse, continued marginalisation of poor indigenous Africans who may well believe that rebounded violence was a way of expressing their anger and disillusionment at their plight.
This violent crime took place in an environment shaped by a multiplicity of contexts, one of the most pronounced is without a doubt the sanctification, as it were, by Malema of killing farmers. It would appear that Malema represents an especially reckless and an almost uncouth new breed of political leadership that shows little evidence of introspection and reflexivity – in the sense that he does not seem aware of the impact of his words and deeds, and how they influence the way people respond to them.
When the Dutch politician Pym Fortuyn was killed in 2002, I was briefly stunned by the murder, thinking that “that was not the way the Dutch go about justice in their county”. Indeed, Fortuyn was a nasty bigoted man – but murder was not the way to address one’s political differences where there are the means to legally sorting out differences. His was a political murder; the assassin Volkert van der Graaf explained that he killed Fortuyn to stop him from exploiting Muslims as “scapegoats” and targeting “the weak parts of society to score points”. The evidence before us shows that Terre’blanche was killed over a labour dispute – not for his political exhortations for a race war.