Inviting Trouble

South Africa waited uneasily last week for the trouble that seemed to be heading its way. Thwarted by the supreme court in his attempt to disfranchise 50,000 Cape colored voters (TIME, March 31), Prime Minister Malan declared that the court is no more than "a few judges, appointed and paid by the government." He added: "The struggle for [Boer] freedom has been reopened ... No compromise is possible."

Malan's outburst confirmed what many South Africans had long feared: blocked by law, the Nationalists might use force. At 78-year-old Premier Malan's side last week were two hotheads. They were Johannes Gerhardus Strydom, 58, Minister of Lands, and Charles Robberts Swart, 58, Minister of Justice. Strydom, onetime Transvaal ostrich farmer, has one consuming ambition: to become the first president of an Afrikaner republic wh:ch is outside the British Commonwealth. "Britain," he says, "stands for equal rights for everyone, irrespective of color or smell." A rabid racialist, he runs thq National Party machine.

His ally and possible rival, Lawyer Swart, once tr'ed--and failed--to make his fortune in Hollywood (he played a bit part as a giant). A strident anti-Semite ("No Jewish votes are wanted"), he shares Strydom's Anglophobia, but reserves his bitterest contempt for the native four-fifths of South Africa's population. Swart once dramatized his plans to get tough with the Negroes by appearing in Parliament with a cat-o'-nine-tails tucked under his arm.

Who Is the Boss? Egged on by such fanatic lieutenants, aging Pastor Malan sought to silence the opposition. In Parliament last week, Jacobus Gideon Nel Strauss, 51, heir to the late great Field Marshal Jan Christian Smuts as leader of the United Party, tried to attack government policy. Nationalist backbenchers shouted him down. Unable to make himself heard, Strauss appealed to the Speaker of the House, an ardent Malanite. The Speaker's only comment: "Resume your seat. I think you have said enough." Slumped on the front bench opposite, Prime Minister Malan chuckled in derision.

Next day in the Senate, white-haired Senator George Heaton Nicholls, one of the Union's founding fathers, bluntly said: "Malan threatens us with revolution by defying the rule of law. This is Naziism . . ." Nicholls' protest got nowhere. "The only question," replied a Nationalist opponent, "is who is ... the boss." By 22 votes to 14, the Senate made it plain that Malan is.

Black Man's Wrath. In an angry, divided nation, mass meetings of protest demanded a "return to the rule of law." In Pretoria's Church Square an anti-Malan demonstration exploded into an ugly free-for-all when pro-Nationalist students bombarded supporters of the "Torch Commando" with stink bombs and rotten eggs.

More dangerous to Malan--and to every white man in South Africa was the threat of race war. In the teeming slums of Johannesburg, in crime-infested Durban, the slow wrath of the black man rose against apartheid (segregation). African leaders announced that they would "court arrest until the jails are full." A nationwide civil disobedience campaign by black, brown and half-whites was set for April 6, South Africa's national holiday. The organizers said they would stick to passive resistance, and would start no trouble. But in South Africa's present mood, they were inviting it.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.