Rocking the Cradle of the Volk

By Bruce W. Nelan/Stellenbosch

The University of Stellenbosch is the oldest Afrikaans-language university in South Africa and by far the most prestigious. Six of the country's eight Prime Ministers were graduates. One of them, Daniel Malan, was a university chancellor and another, Hendrik F. Verwoerd, the architect of apartheid, was a professor in the sociology department. The university's present chancellor is State President P.W. Botha, though he did not attend Stellenbosch.

Since 1948, when the Afrikaner-dominated National Party came to power, Stellenbosch has been the government's think tank. Its academic stars have provided the theoretical framework for apartheid, philosophical defenses for social engineering and, more recently, treatises on political "power sharing." Stellenbosch has been called the cradle of Afrikanerdom.

Situated 25 miles from Cape Town on the banks of the meandering Eerste River and surrounded by a rich valley filled with lush vineyards, the university enjoys one of the most beautiful settings in the world. It was this natural beauty that led Governor Simon van der Stel to set up a holiday camp there in 1679. The university started in 1866 as the Stellenbosch Gymnasium, or high school. Today its low-slung buildings, white with red tile roofs, are thickly shaded by ancient oaks and framed by cerise bougainvillea. Even the trees are considered national monuments. When one of the giant oaks along Dorp Street dies, tree surgeons quickly operate and fill it with cement to keep it standing. The whole town testifies to a deep concern with preserving buildings, traditions and ideas.

Part of Stellenbosch's appeal comes from its isolation. The 14,000 students usually dress as if they were attending classes at a seaside resort: men in shorts or jeans and running shoes, women in white or pastel-colored blouses and slacks. They stroll hand in hand with bookbags over their shoulders, loll on the steps of lecture halls, hop into their cars for a trip to one of the 47 restaurants catering to Maties, the nickname for U. of S. students that had its origin in the tomato-color blazers students used to wear. The Maties have long been politically apathetic. In 1986 Jannie Gagiano, a lecturer in political science, carried out studies on student attitudes. The results, he says, "show an amazingly high degree of attachment to the system and a high regard for it."

The initial impression is one of supreme tranquillity. Only when the Maties turn out to play or watch intramural rugby games on Fridays does the campus really seem to stir. Yet beneath the surface, political turmoil is rocking Stellenbosch. The traditional relationship between the university and the ruling Afrikaner establishment has been shattered. The faculty is in intellectual rebellion against the state, and students have been discussing much more than rugby since March 6, when 27 professors and senior lecturers denounced Botha's reforms as a sham and resigned from the National Party.

Economics Professor Sampie Terreblanche, one of the leaders of the campus revolt, says a deep split has taken place between the university and the country's ruling elite. "At Stellenbosch," he says, "we have reached the point that if a man is willing to defend the government, he has no standing in academic circles. This will have important effects. No government faced with these problems can afford to lose its academic contacts."

Though concern over apartheid among the faculty had been growing, gradually but steadily, for some time, Botha's announcement of the whites-only election on May 6 was the immediate catalyst for change at Stellenbosch. It precipitated the rebellion of the professors, who demanded that real reform take place. This challenge shocked students into attention. "Politics has passed rugby as the main interest on campus since the election was announced," confirms Philip Nel, director of the Institute of Soviet Studies.

During a teatime discussion group at a professor's house, Stefan Malherbe, editor of the student newspaper Die Matie, jumps to his feet. "There has been a great change in the past six months," he says. "The most apathetic student now realizes that he must take part in politics. For the first time, students are taking a critical look at the government."

"Youth is becoming more politically involved," agrees Emile Wessels, campus chairman of the Conservative Party. "Now they say what they want for the future and how to get there. There is more criticism of the government."

Anton Steenkamp, a former editor of Die Matie, a year ago led an attempt by Stellenbosch students to visit the headquarters of the outlawed African National Congress in Lusaka, but the government refused to issue them passports. He says he finds more dissatisfaction than ever before. "There has been a shift to the left on campus, especially since the independent candidates have emerged."

Gagiano is planning some new polls to gauge the effects of the professors' shifting views on their students. Says he: "If the dissidents in the faculty set out to persuade the students to re-examine their political opinions, they will be able to move many of them."

Phillip Myburgh, a law student who drafted a denunciation of all remaining apartheid laws that 800 legal scholars approved last month, thinks this is already happening. "What is going on here," he says, "is the incubation of Afrikanerdom's future thought." If he is right, the government's think tank could one day be better known as the place that played a decisive role in the transformation of Afrikanerdom.