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Freedom Collection

Interviews with Max du Preez

Interviewed November 26, 2024

We were sitting in Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, during this trip when we got the first information on what the South African media was saying about our trip, which was a great symbolic value [referring to a delegation of the United Democratic Front that traveled out of South Africa to meet with representatives of the banned African National Congress (ANC) in 1987].

I mean, something like that had never happened before, I mean, mostly Afrikaners meeting the ANC, the enemy, the big communist, terrorist threat. And I knew in my heart that this was a very positive thing. It was a very important thing symbolically. We had no mandate to talk to—I mean, I didn’t represent anybody, but just as a symbolic gesture and to break the ice and to tell people on all sides, “You actually can talk with—you know, negotiations, politics is the future.”

[The United Democratic Front was a multiracial anti-apartheid coalition. The African National Congress (ANC) is a political party that served as the most prominent resistance movement against South Africa’s apartheid system, at times resorting to violence through its military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe. It was officially banned by the South African government from 1960 to 1990. As apartheid collapsed, the ANC’s leader, Nelson Mandela, was elected President of South Africa in 1994 and established a democratic government.]

And I sat there and looked at what the newspapers were saying, and it was an absolute shock. Even the sort of critical English-language newspapers were, like, absolutely condemning what we were doing.

And I was sitting there and I remember clearly, next to the swimming pool with Beyers Naude, who was like an old anti-apartheid figure here, and Breyten Breytenbach, who was a poet and an anti-apartheid figure of quite some importance, symbolic figure, and van Zyl Slabbert. And I said, you know, “What the hell is this? I mean, what do we do? How do we fix this? How do—if this is what people back home are being fed, how will we ever get any kind of movement towards a settlement of our problem?”

[Christiaan Frederick Beyers Naude (1915 – 2004) was a South African minister, theologian and Afrikaner anti-apartheid activist. Breyten Breytenbach (1939 – ) is one of South Africa’s most prominent Afrikaner poets and artists. He was anti-apartheid activist. Frederik van Zyl Slabbert (1940 – 2010) was a South African politician who led the Progressive Reform Party and opposed apartheid.]

And then Beyers Naude challenged me. He said, “Well, you’re a journalist. If this is the way you feel, if you’re not a EXPLETIVE, then you will go back home and start a newspaper that will reflect the new reality. And you will do it in Afrikaans, because if it’s in English it doesn’t have an effect. People—white Afrikaans people would reject a message that doesn’t come in their own language,” and that’s—I don’t know if it’s unique to Afrikaners, but if you—at least at that point you had to speak to them in their own language. Otherwise, you know, we can just write you off—‘cause that’s what we expect.

I suppose it’s a bit of a hangover of the Anglo-Boer War and what happened after.

[The Boer Wars of 1880-1881 and 1899-1902 were fought between the British Empire and the Dutch settlers (Afrikaners) of the Transvaal and Orange Free State located in Africa’s Cape of Good Hope. The British were ultimately victorious and established the autonomous Union of South Africa in 1910, including the Afrikaner territories.]

And that’s what I did. I came back and had a few colleagues, four of them brave enough to do this thing. And we launched a newspaper in 1987 called Vrye Weekblad, which means Free and Independent Weekly, which was the first anti-apartheid Afrikaans publication in this country, and took quite a radical position. And we would—you know, there were a lot of sort of liberal Afrikaners who still now said we were mad to do it, because what you really needed to do was to sugarcoat the pill, gently start telling people apartheid is not such a nice idea, and I said, “Well, it’s either you tell them exactly what is going on— ‘cause it’s too late for that kind of soft treatment; it’s too late for sugarcoating the pills.

Our first headline, our first front page lead was on Nelson Mandela, saying, “Here’s this man,” and we had an illegal drawing of him, a painting of him as our front cover, saying, “We should pin our hopes on the release of this man because he has the capacity, the charisma, the experience, and the credibility all around to help break this logjam. So we should start campaigning for him to be released because he is our best chance of a peaceful transition.”

[Nelson Mandela (1918 – 2013) was a South African anti-apartheid revolutionary and politician who served as the first post-apartheid President of South Africa from 1994-1999.]

And we were met with a great amount of shock by the Afrikaans community. The government would’ve loved to have closed us down, but the mere fact that I was an Afrikaner made it much easier—made it much more difficult to them, because they did close some of the other alternative newspapers at the time down. I mean, New Nation was closed down for a month and so was the Weekly Mail, which is now the Mail and Guardian.

So they did another tactic and they just—they knew that we didn’t have money. I mean, literally the first few months of this newspaper were financed by my pension money and I sold my art collection, all my policies, and we scraped together here and there, and we didn’t get salaries and stuff. The paper was owned by the staff. And they started bombarding us with court cases. I had—I forget the exact amount—about 11 defamation cases against me, all from politicians and generals, and I won all of them but one. But it exhausted our—I spent more time in court than in my newsroom, and it exhausted our money.

I have—as I sit here I have a very long criminal record of breaking the communist—the Suppression of Communism Act, the Internal Security Act, the Internal Safety Act, the you know, and it goes on and on and on, for quoting banned people, reporting from a township where there’s a state of emergency, exposing an agent of—a secret agent of the state, all those kind of things.

But again, you know, this—now you’re in the open and you’re associated with the ANC and the UDF, and then that emboldens you and that’s what you become.

[Banning was a legal process during apartheid enabled primarily by the Suppression of Communism Act, where individuals were prohibited from communicating with more than one person at a time and from traveling domestically or internationally without permission. Organizations were also banned by the government. The media was restricted in covering banned individuals. Under apartheid, townships were residential areas designated for non-white groups. Non-whites were prohibited from living in areas reserved for whites.]