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Toward Robben Island: The Rivonia Trial

20 July 1997


The Rivonia raid of July 11, 1963, was followed by an anti-climax: a trial in
which Nelson Mandela, who was brought out of prison to become one of the
accused, Walter Sisulu, Govan Mbeki, and others admitted that they were guilty
of sabotage and preparation for guerrilla war. They denied, however, that a
decision had been made to begin guerrilla activity. For eleven months after the
raid, the underlying question in the trial was whether or not they would be
hanged, which would have transformed them, as heroes of the African opposition,
into martyrs.

Mandela, Sisulu, and Mbeki, the most prominent leaders of the ANC (other than
Lutuli) who were still inside the country, were members of the National High
Command of Umkhonto. Hundreds of documents and other evidence of subversion were
found at Rivonia and at two other sites, both used as hide-outs and one used as
an arsenal. Many of the documents were in the handwriting of the accused,
including a diary of Mandela. For him and the others, the trial was an
opportunity to set the record straight and a platform from which to reach a
worldwide audience as well as their own followers within South Africa. The trial
was similarly an opportunity for the government to win support, especially (it
thought) because white and Indian Communists were among the accused and alleged
co-conspirators. Anti-apartheid groups succeeded in focusing unprecedented
international attention on the trial and in generating pressures to end it or at
least to save the defendants from the death penalty. On June 11, 1964, Judge
Quartus de Wet found Mandela, Sisulu, Mbeki, and others guilty, and on June 12,
1964, he sentenced them to prison for life.

For nearly ninety days, the men arrested in the Rivonia cottage had been
interrogated and detained in solitary confinement. Among others detained under
the 90-day law who became defendants the trial were Dennis Goldberg, a Cape Town
engineer and leader of the Congress of Democrats who had been in the main
Rivonia house at the time of the raid; Elias Motsoaledi and Andrew Mlangeni,
minor figures in Umkhonto who had been arrested some weeks earlier; Arthur
Goldreich, the tenant at Rivonia, an industrial designer who had learned
guerrilla tactics in Israel; Harold Wolpe, a lawyer involved in handling the
Communist Party's money for purchase of the Rivonia property; and James Kantor,
who was not involved in Umkhonto or in politics but was a legal colleague and
brother-in-law of Wolpe. Kantor was discharged at the end of the prosecution's
case.

Meanwhile, Goldreich, Wolpe, and two Indian detainees, Moosa Moolla and A.
Jassat, bribed a young guard and escaped from jail on August 11, eventually
making their way to Swaziland and then to Tanzania. Probably the most dramatic
escape in South African history, their exit from the country infuriated the
prosecutors and police who considered Goldreich to be "the
arch-conspirator."

The far-reaching effects of the 90-day law were only partly evident after the
Rivonia raid. Both high officials and the press spoke vividly of the culpability
of the men under detention. Because technically they were not yet charged with
an offense, the tradition of no public comment on a pending case could be
ignored. What could not be known fully with regard to this and other pending
cases was the treatment of persons who were being held incommunicado. During the
ten months after May 11, 1963, 682 persons were detained, 61 of them for more
than 90 days. Some complained of assault, electric shock, and suffocation within
plastic bags.

White prisoners were apparently not tortured, although some white members of
ARM were beaten up; solitary confinement for long periods, however, was
described by critics as a form of mental torture. Mandela himself was treated by
his jailers with some respect and restraint, but Mlangeni, complaining that he
had been tortured with electric shocks, displayed burns and scars after his
detention. Motsoaledi complained of assault. More subtle were the psychological
consequences of solitary confinement and relentless questioning. These practices
posed a problem for the judge regarding the reliability of prosecution witnesses
in the Rivonia trial, some of whom were Africans sympathetic to Umkhonto who had
been persuaded to testify for the state.

Lawyers were unable to see the accused until two days before indictment on
October 9. Leading the defense team was Bram Fischer, the distinguished lawyer,
Afrikaner, and veteran Communist (at that time, secretly a member of the
underground party). Two days later, after appeals abroad by Oliver Tambo, the
United Nations General Assembly voted 106 to 1, with only South Africa in
opposition, in criticism of South African political trials; but the United
States, Britain, France, and Australia abstained on the operative paragraph,
which called for an end to "the arbitrary trial now in progress." At
the end of October, Hepple was able to leave the dock because he had agreed to
testify for the prosecution; later he managed to flee the country. After
dismissal of the first indictment as inadequate, the trial finally got under way
on December 3 with an expanded indictment. Each of the ten accused pleaded not
guilty, all of them except Kantor in words similar to those of Mandela: "My
lord, it is not I, but the Government that should be in the dock today. I plead
not guilty."

In addition to the ten defendants, the indictment listed twenty-four alleged
co-conspirators, including Tambo, Nokwe, Resha, Kotane, Marks, Dr. Arthur
Letele, and Tennyson Makiwane. Surprisingly, Lutuli's name was not listed. One
defense attorney thought the exclusion was designed to drive a wedge between
Lutuli and the accused. The prosecutor, however, repeatedly brought Lutuli into
the case as an accomplice, and it was the accused who firmly refused to say
anything that might incriminate him. Also listed as co-conspirators were the
Communist Party, the ANC (which the prosecutor claimed was "completely
dominated" by the Communist Party), and Umkhonto.

The offenses alleged were: (1) recruiting persons for training in the
preparation and use of explosives and in guerrilla warfare for the purpose of
violent revolution and committing acts of sabotage, (2) conspiring to commit the
aforementioned acts and to aid foreign military units when they invaded the
Republic, (3) acting in these ways to further the objects of communism, and (4)
soliciting and receiving money for these purposes from sympathizers in Algeria,
Ethiopia, Liberia, Nigeria, Tunisia, and elsewhere. "Production
requirements" for munitions for a six-month period were sufficient, the
prosecutor said in his opening address, to blow up a city the size of
Johannesburg.

The chief prosecutor was Dr. Percy Yutar, deputy attorney-general of the
Transvaal, a Jew whose intense emotional involvement in the case was said to be
due, in part, to his animus toward Jews who were Communists. He also shared the
prevailing assumption of other white South Africans that "the rank and file
of the Bantu in this country were faithful and loyal." In his opening
address, he said:

The planned purpose ... was to bring about in the Republic of South Africa
chaos, disorder and turmoil, which would be aggravated, according to their
plan, by the operation of thousands of trained guerrilla warfare units
deployed throughout the country at various vantage points. These would be
joined in the various areas by local inhabitants, as well as specially
selected men posted to such areas. Their combined operations were planned to
lead to confusion, violent insurrection and rebellion, followed at the
appropriate juncture by an armed invasion of the country by military units of
foreign powers. In the midst of the resulting chaos, turmoil and disorder it
was planned by the accused to set up a Provisional Revolutionary Government to
take over the administration and control of this country.

He concluded (perhaps confusing the ANC with the PAC) by alleging that the
accused and their organizations "had so planned their campaign that the
present year - 1963 - was to be the year of their liberation from the so-called
yoke of the white man's domination." In his final speech, Yutar declared
for the first time that "the day of the mass uprising in connection with
the launching of guerrilla warfare was to have been the 26th May 1963."
Choice of this date, six weeks before the Rivonia raid and a time when Umkhonto
possessed only an air rifle with which Mandela had once tried target practice,
mystified the accused and their lawyers.

Yutar's summary of " the planned purpose" was a summary of
"Operation Mayibuye," the draft memorandum found at Rivonia, which
was, for Yutar, "the corner-stone of the State case." Whether or not
this plan for guerrilla war and foreign intervention had been accepted was, in
the minds of the defense, the crucial question affecting sentences. Sisulu
testified that the plan had been prepared by a group that included Arthur
Goldreich. Some members of the National High Command favored it very strongly,
he said; others (himself included) opposed it very strongly; and many were
undecided and wanted further discussion. Preparations for the eventuality of
guerrilla warfare were made, he said, but no decision to launch it was taken.
The judge agreed. (Bram Fischer is reputed to have killed the plan. In his own
trial later, he described Operation Mayibuye as "an entirely unrealistic
brainchild of some youthful and adventurous imagination .... If ever there was a
plan which a Marxist could not approve in the then prevailing circumstances,
this was such a one .... if any part of it at all could be put into operation,
it could achieve nothing but disaster.")

Yutar described the Rivonia trial as "a classical case of high treason
par excellence." The accused were not charged under the common law of high
treason, however, but under the Sabotage Act, which also carried the death
penalty. Prosecution for treason would have required a preparatory examination,
useful to the defense, with two witnesses to every overt act, and proof beyond a
reasonable doubt. Dr. Yutar, privately recalling the abortive Treason Trial of
1956-1961, chose to proceed under the Sabotage Act, which shifted much of the
onus of proof from the prosecution to the defense.91 In his final judgment, the
judge agreed that the case was essentially one of high treason; but, perhaps
ironically, he found in the fact that treason had not been charged a basis for
deciding not to impose the death penalty "the only leniency" he could
show. Afterwards, Sir de Villiers Graaff, leader of the United Party, said that
his "only regret- with the verdict was that Mandela and others had not been
charged with high treason. because then "the world would have understood
the outcome of this case very much better than it does at this moment."

In a manner similar to that adopted by the defense in the Treason Trial,
which sought to dismiss all expressions of violent intent as outside ANC policy,
the defense in the Rivonia trial argued that even acts by Umkhonto members could
not be ascribed to the accused if the members had violated instructions against
endangering human life. Although witnesses for the prosecution testified to such
instructions, Yutar talked of murder and attempted murder. The defense reacted
with outrage because no specific allegations were made. The judge agreed that
other organizations as well as Umkhonto were committing sabotage, sometimes on
the same targets, and that only a small proportion of the 193 acts of sabotage
(none of which had resulted in loss of life) had been proved to be the
responsibility of Umkhonto.

Potentially more important was the judge's agreement that the ANC and
Umkhonto were two separate though overlapping organizations, despite a
governmental proclamation during the trial that the ANC was the same as Umkhonto.
The distinction between the two organizations was important for every ANC member
who might be charged in the future, because the maximum penalty for membership
in an unlawful organization was ten years in prison, whereas the penalty for
sabotage could be death.

These gratifying gains hardly compensated, however, for the shattering effect
on all the accused (except Kantor) of the detailed testimony of "Mr. X,"
who was Bruno Mtolo, the most active saboteur in Natal. He was the leading
witness among 173 witnesses for the prosecution. Mtolo, a member both of the ANC
and of the Communist Party, had become disaffected with Umkhonto, claiming that
its leaders pursued selfish interests and disregarded the welfare of their
followers. The judge considered him a reliable witness, and the defense, an
extraordinarily impressive witness of phenomenal memory and very quick mind. The
defense also insisted, however, that his testimony was a distorted mixture of
fact and fiction, and Mandela expressed to his lawyers anger at Mtolo's smearing
of the ANC and Umkhonto as Communist.

Most distressing, however, was Mtolo's readiness to "go out of his way
to implicate people who were not even suspected by the police ... [and his
volunteering of] an enormous amount of information." After his release, an
Afrikaans publisher brought out an autobiography in which Mtolo suggested that
"there must be some higher reason" for the presence of whites and
other races in South Africa and concluded with an appeal to Lutuli as the leader
of "the Zulu nation" to draft a new ANC policy "acceptable to the
people but also to the white Government."

Mandela in the Dock

To sympathizers with the African opposition, there was the sharpest contrast
between Mtolo, the traitor, and Mandela, the hero. Mtolo had never been the
victim of banning orders; his only experience of prison was for theft;
politically he had proved to be an opportunist. On the other hand, Mandela's
stature as a steadfast African nationalist who had suffered repeated
restrictions had been growing. Although deliberate efforts had been made to
exalt his reputation, it Is not surprising that a man of his ability, character,
and flair for leadership should by 1964 have surpassed the rusticated Lutuli as
the pre-eminent ANC leader. In his personal relations, the respect and affection
of those who knew him was extraordinary. During the trial, his dignified bearing
and unyielding attitude enhanced his reputation. He was also a physically
impressive man, over six feet tall, at that time in his middle forties.
Characteristically. on his first entrance into the courtroom, he faced the
packed nonwhite gallery and raised his clenched fist, mouthing the word "Amandla
[power]"; many Africans in the audience replied "Ngawethu! [to
the people!]." African attendance at the trial, initially high, soon
dwindled. The Special Branch took the name and address of every spectator, and a
police photographer took pictures as they left.

When opening the defense case on April 20, 1964, however, Mandela spoke
without apparent emotion. Slowly and quietly, he read a statement from the dock,
as he had in 1962. The accused had agreed that instead of taking the witness
stand, where his position could be expressed only in piecemeal fashion, Mandela
should provide a framework for the testimony to follow and at the same time use
the dock to present to the widest possible audience a coherent and enduring
rationale for the actions of Umkhonto and the ANC. With assistance from
colleagues and counsel, he prepared the speech, fully conscious of its historic
importance.

Mandela concluded with the following words:

During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African
people. I have fought against White domination, and I have fought against
Black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society
in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It
is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an
ideal for which I am prepared to die.

"... for perhaps thirty seconds," one of his lawyers has written,
"there was silence. One could hear people on the public benches release
their breath with a deep sigh as the moment of tension passed. Some women in the
gallery burst into tears. We sat like that for perhaps a minute before the
tension ebbed."

Mandela had been in prison almost the entire period since passage of the
Sabotage Act and Dr. Yutar might well have expected him to take the stand to
seek exoneration on the ground that his culpability was minimal. But Mandela
affirmed that he was a leader both of the ANC and of Umkhonto, and in effect
(despite his plea), guilty on all counts. He fully expected the death sentence
to be handed down, inasmuch as twenty-year sentences had already been meted out
for relatively minor offenses. Along with others, he had planned what he would
say on that occasion. Outside, clandestine flyers were circulated during the
trial, warning in lurid terms about the consequences of imposing the death
penalty. An ANC flyer at the beginning of the trial had said, with a new and,
for the ANC, uncharacteristic, emphasis on the whiteness of the enemy, "If
these leaders die in Vorster's hands - you, White man, and all your family,
stand in mortal danger". Following Dr. Yutar's opening speech, another
flyer warned that if the accused were made scapegoats, they would" only
become imperishable symbols of our resistance".

In presenting a case that would appeal to the widest public, Mandela had to
deal with the question of the role and influence of the Communist Party.
Although the government's understanding of who was a Communist was notoriously
sophisticated, the fact was that among the accused there were three Africans
(Mbeki, Mhlaba, and Motsoaledi), one white (Bernstein), and an Indian (Kathrada)
who were or had been members of the Communist Party. The government's
misperceptions had been on display earlier during the debate on the 90-day bill,
April 24, 1963, when Vorster attempted to provide what he evidently thought was
a sophisticated review of the "long history" of African politics.
"any of the files I am working with today," he said, "date from
the 'twenties." J.B. Marks (who had indeed been a member both of the
Communist Party and of the ANC) had become secretary-general of the ANC in 1936,
he declared (an assertion that was untrue); and "from that moment Communism
took over the ANC hand over hand and made it its tool" (an assertion
equally untrue).

In court, Mandela denied that the ANC had ever been a Communist organization;
its "ideological creed," he said, was "African Nationalism."
In setting forth distinctions between the policies of the two organizations, he
referred to the Freedom Charter, for example, which Vorster saw as "nothing
else but the communistic blueprint for Southern Africa." Yet the Freedom
Charter, as Mandela accurately observed, was "by no means a blueprint for a
socialist State."

Speaking more personally, Mandela explained "why experienced African
politicians so readily accept Communists as their friends.... for many decades
Communists were the only political group in South Africa who were prepared to
treat Africans as human beings and their equals; who were prepared to eat with
us; talk with us, live with us and work with us. -- He welcomed the Communist
Party's assistance; nevertheless, he had never personally joined it. He was, he
said, "an African patriot," a socialist who had been influenced by
Marxist thought, but not a Marxist. Furthermore, unlike the Communists, he
admired Western parliamentary systems and, in particular, had "great
respect" for British and American political and judicial institutions.
Sisulu, who was under cross-examination for some six days, also denied that he
was a Communist and presented a similar description of the relationship between
the ANC and the Communist Party.

The intimacy of relations between non-Communist African nationalists and
Communists, in South Africa and in exile, made it difficult for many
anti-Communist observers to recognize that African nationalists could hold their
own. This was especially true for white analysts who assumed that in any such
collaboration Communists - particularly white Communists - would dominate.
Sisulu would say to friends: cannot these people see that it we might be using
the Communists? Communists did, nonetheless, have an importance that was vastly
disproportionate to their numbers, which was not surprising, given their ability
and dedication and the philosophical certitude that underpinned their sense of
inevitable victory.

Expert students of Communist political behavior might suggest that Sisulu and
Mandela were clandestine Communists whose denials both of party membership and
of adherence to party doctrine were calculated to preserve for the ANC a
respectable facade among non-Communist and anti-Communist sympathizers. Such a
supposition was as difficult to prove as to disprove. Although they may have
sought to appeal to the widest possible spectrum of opinion, the judgment of
many who knew Mandela and Sisulu well was a simple one: they were pre-eminently
independent minded African patriots. Among the exiles, the judgment was notably
true for Tambo. Despite the ANC's growing reliance on aid from Communist
countries, the position of such men was strengthened by the fact that African
Communists like Kotane and Marks were to an important extent also nationalists.

International Pressures

The day of Mandela's speech was also a notable occasion at the United
Nations. A special group of experts on South Africa issued a report that was
part utopian and part realistic. The appointment of this group had been one
event in the series of international appeals and warnings made in reaction to
the tightening of controls and police crackdowns within the Republic. Many of
the appeals were directed at South Africa's major trading partners, especially
Britain and the United States. A year after the two-thirds vote in the General
Assembly calling for sanctions, Scandinavian initiative led to the unanimous
passage by the Security Council on December 4, 1963, of a resolution to appoint
a small group of experts "to examine methods of resolving the present
situation in South Africa through full, peaceful and orderly application of
human rights and fundamental freedoms to all inhabitants of the territory as a
whole...."

The secretary-general appointed Mrs. Gunnar Myrdal, a Swedish diplomat, to
chair the group and other diplomats from Britain, Morocco, Ghana, and Yugoslavia
as members. South Africa refused entry to the group, which proceeded
nevertheless to hear recommendations from South African exiles, among others. On
April 20, 1964, the group (except for the Yugoslav, who had resigned because of
the others' relative moderation) issued its report, ahead of schedule because it
believed that South Africa was rapidly approaching the point of
"explosion." It proposed a "course of reason and justice ... the
only way and the last chance to avoid ... a vast tragedy."

The group resuscitated the idea of a national convention and suggested that w
Ith UN help such a convention might lead to a constituent assembly, a detailed
constitution, and the election of a representative parliament. Lutuli, Mandela,
and Sobukwe were praised as non-racialists and men of -outstanding political
responsibility." Not only they but also "all representative
leaders" should be able to participate freely in planning the convention.
Therefore, the report described as essential "an amnesty for all opponents
to apartheid, whether they are under trial or in prison or under restriction or
in exile."

This stunning unreality, which Die Burger felt confirmed "the
cynical statement that there are no greater fools upon earth than a collection
of experts," was balanced by the report's recognition of South Africa's
"wave of economic prosperity," the sharp increase in white
immigration, and the dramatic increase in British and American investment.
Pending a final reply from the South African government, the group proposed an
expert examination of the economic and strategic aspects of sanctions and
emphasized the crucial importance of American and British cooperation. An
ultimatum was then proposed: if South Africa did not reply satisfactorily by a
date to be set by the Security Council, the Council should impose sanctions.

The ulterior motive of the proposal for more expert study may have been a
realistic one: to involve the United States and Britain in movement toward
mandatory sanctions. If so, the effort was partly successful; both governments
participated in the expert committee that was subsequently established. But U.S.
policy toward South Africa continued to be ambivalent. The United States was
hardly disposed to embark on an uncertain course, unsupported by American public
opinion, against a currently stable and profitable system. By the end of 1965,
the drive for sanctions had evaporated.

The Trial Ends: June 12, 1964

As the Rivonia trial neared its end, the world-wide campaign of protests and
appeals for clemency was stepped up. Its culmination came on June 9 with action
by the United Nations Security Council two days before the judge rendered his
decision. The Council, with four abstentions, urged the South African government
to end the trial, to grant amnesty to the defendants and to all others who were
imprisoned or restricted "for opposing apartheid," and to renounce the
execution of persons already sentenced to death "for acts resulting from-
such opposition. The U.S. representative, who abstained along with the
representatives of Britain, France, and Brazil, emphasized that Washington
shared the Council's concern (American diplomats had, indeed, expressed such
feelings privately to South African officials), but was opposed to interference
with a trial in progress.

Foreign reporters, photographers, and diplomats gathered in Pretoria on June
11, when the judge rendered his decision, and on June 12, when he announced
sentences. There was no surprise in the fact that Mandela, Sisulu, Mbeki,
Motsoaledi, Mlangeni, and Goldberg were found guilty on all four counts. The
defense had hoped that Mhlaba, Kathrada, and Bernstein might escape conviction
because of the skimpiness of evidence that they were parties to the conspiracy,
although undoubtedly they could be prosecuted on other charges. But Mhlaba too
was found guilty on all counts, and Kathrada, on one charge of conspiracy.
Bernstein, however, was found not guilty. He was rearrested, released on bail,
and placed under house arrest. Later he fled the country.

In pursuing their main aim, to save the accused from death, the defense
called upon Harry Hanson, an eloquent lawyer who had not taken part in the
trial, to argue in mitigation. He compared the African struggle for rights to
the earlier and somewhat comparable Afrikaner struggle and cited South African
precedents for temperate sentencing, even in cases of treason. One witness was
called: Alan Paton, national president of the Liberal Party, who was a devout
Christian and opponent of violence. Paton agreed that Communists held high
positions in the ANC but denied that the ANC was dominated by the Communist
Party. He praised the sincerity of Mandela, Sisulu, and Mbeki, their lack of
desire for vengeance. and asked "for clemency because of the future of this
country." Hanson and Paton were making political appeals in a trial of
politically inspired offenses. Dr. Yutar also responded politically. He conceded
that questioning a witness in mitigation was unusual,"but I do so in order
to unmask this gentleman, he said of Paton. "His only purpose is to make
political capital."

Justice de Wet sentenced all defendants found guilty to life imprisonment.
"Most of the world," said the New York Times, "regards the
convicted men as ... the George Washingtons and Benjamin Franklins of South
Africa, not criminals deserving punishment." There was a great gap between
this perception and the more cynical and limited perception of de Wet. "I
am by no means convinced," he said, "that the motives of the accused
were as altruistic as they wish the court to believe. People who organize a
revolution usually take over the government, and personal ambition cannot be
excluded as a motive."

The accused waved to the audience as they descended below the dock. Outside,
as on the preceding day, large numbers of police, some with dogs, stood ready to
control the crowds and avoid any embarrassing incidents or disorder. Among some
2,000 people present there were only a few hundred Africans who showed their
emotions. They responded to news of the verdict with shouts of Amandla
Ngawethu!
and the clenched fist and upright thumb of the ANC. Some unfurled
banners-"We Are Proud of Our Leaders"-which the police seized. Many
sang the African anthem. On the preceding day, the singing of Nkosi Sikelel'
iAfrika
had been led by Mrs. Albertina Sisulu, resplendent in a Xhosa robe
and headdress. When Mandela and the others were finally driven away, the crowd
again shouted and saluted as the convicted men thrust their fists through the
bars and shouted back: "Amandla!" On the same day, all except
Goldberg, the one white, were flown to Robben Island, the maximum security
prison some seven miles from the shores of Cape Town.

The ending of the Rivonia trial did not appear to stir white public opinion.
The press praised the police, the prosecutor, and the judge, and evidence of
effective security contributed to growing white complacency and support for the
government. Within a week of the sentencing, four incidents of sabotage were
reported, probably the work of the mainly white African Resistance Movement.
Within a month or so, the police had smashed this idealistic and heroic but
ineffectual group. Most devastating, however, was the political blow to Alan
Paton and the Liberal Party when it was discovered that Liberals were among the
members of ARM. On July 24 whites reacted with horror to the news that a bomb
had exploded in the white section of the Johannesburg railroad station, killing
one old woman and injuring some two dozen others. John Harris, a Liberal who had
joined ARM but had broken its basic rule against injuring human beings, was
found guilty of the bombing. He became the first white man among some 45 persons
hanged for politically inspired acts of violence since 1960.

Such violence was a last flickering of protest. White South Africa, confident
that it faced no dangerous challenge from the United States or other Western
states, was facing a period in which white strength was to be consolidated
rather than undermined and white initiatives to enlist black collaboration and
compliance were to be accelerated. Meanwhile, Lutuli's bitter verdict on Rivonia
stood: sentencing "brave just men ... to he shut away for long years in the
brutal and degrading prisons of South Africa ... will leave a vacuum in
leadership," he said. "With them will be interred this country's hopes
for racial co-operation."