Reclaiming Humanity: A Review of A Human Being Died that Night by Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela

On Friday 30^th January 2015, it was announced that Eugene de Kock, the former head of covert operations and death squad unit of the South African Apartheid Police popularly referred to as “Prime Evil” had been given parole. Eugene has been granted parole on what the judge refers to as in the interest of forgiveness, national healing and reconciliation. Furthermore, the judge notes that the next of kin of the victims of “Prime Evil” were consulted in arriving at this decision; also, Eugene has to abide by certain conditions set by the court upon his release.

Image courtesy of Google images

Eugene de Kock, mispronounced as Dikoko by black guards in prison as noted by Pumla, was sentenced to two life terms plus 212 years in prison for his activities as head of the infamous Vlakplaas police death squad targeting anti-apartheid activists. The highly decorated former colonel confessed to more than 100 acts of murder, torture and fraud before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which was established in 1995 to consider amnesty for those who confessed their crimes during apartheid. He was granted amnesty for most offences — including the 1982 bombing of the ANC's London offices — but was jailed for six murders that were found to have lacked direct political motivation.

The discussions around his imprisonment and possible parole have been characterized by divergent views. Some have considered his crimes against humanity too heinous to be forgiven whereas others have looked at Eugene as a symbolically repentant prisoner who is serving a term in prison on behalf of leaders who have refused to own up and take responsibility for the crimes committed by the likes of Eugene at their command. Pumla’s interviews with him led her to conclude that “de Kock was clearly angry that he had been made a scapegoat – that while he had been sought after as a master counterinsurgency strategist and treated like a hero under apartheid, he had become the most despised white person in post-apartheid South Africa.”

 Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela’s text A Human Being Died that Night is a true testimony of Malusi Mpumlwana’s prayer that what we need as human beings is forgiveness and healing because that is the only thing that can redeem us from dehumanisation. During the Truth and Reconciliation process in South Africa, he said: “When they torture you, you look on them and you say, ‘By the way, these are Gods children,’... and you know they need you to help them recover the humanity they are losing.” Although Pumla does not directly prescribe for de Kock to be paroled, her psychological insights gathered from her interactions with him whilst interviewing him in prison attest to these words by Malusi. Besides, Njabulo Ndebele argues that for South Africa to become free from the scars of apartheid, it must engage in the recovery of humans. Read about Pumla here: http://www.pumlagobodom.co.za/

This recovery of humanity can only be possible through forgiveness which Pumla defines as being characterised by supernatural powers: “There seems to be something spiritual, even sacramental, about forgiveness – a sign that moves and touches those who are witnesses to its enactment” (95). It is possible to argue that through forgiveness, the victim releases not just the resentment and anger but also the burden of carrying hatred and being weighed down by the feeling of vulnerability and hopelessness. The victim sets both the oppressor and himself/herself free from the bondage of emotional scars and trauma caused by crimes against humanity. Thus, s/he reclaims humanity and regains power by taking control of his/her traumatic past.

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Indeed, Pumla describes de Kock as a man who is paradoxically dead. She notes that “As behind-the-scenes engineer of apartheid’s murderous operations, he had been faceless and nameless. Now that he was exposed, his name was unpronounceable – as unspeakable – as his deeds [de Kock being referred to as Dikoko]. Using her skills as a trained clinical psychologist, Pumla sets out to hold a series of sessions with de Kock that are characterised by trepidation on her part. However, she eventually discovers that de Kock has a side of him that might be unknown to the rest of the world – the fact that he is human just like the rest of us. But, for de Kock “A human being died [one particular] night [when he got involved in a] murder operation” (51). The guilty conscience of the killing was so overwhelming that he had to discard his clothes and towels because he felt that death was clinging to him by way of a pungent smell that he couldn’t wash away.

Pumla’s interview sessions with de Kock help her to unearth how the latter is progressively sucked into the bitterness of the apartheid regime and subsequently he becomes their death machine, a highly feared man who spells doom for his victims. The conversations reveal that de Kock looks back with hindsight and regrets his involvement in the torture and murder of blacks. Although religion had taught them that they were fighting for what is right for the whites, de Kock gets shocked to discover a copy of a well-read bible, same as the one he uses, in the hands of a black man. Thereafter, he reckons that “We fought for nothing, we fought each other basically for nothing. We could all have been alive having a beer. And the politicians? If we could put all politicians in the front lines with their families, and grandparents, and grandchildren – if they are in the frontline, I don’t think we will ever have a war again” (78).

Eugene de Kock loses not only his innocence but his sense of self-worth as a human being. It is as a result of this that Pumla considers de Kock a dead man. When you lose your conscience as a human being and begin to rationalise your murderous acts towards fellow human beings, then you cease to exist by the mere fact that you cease to value human life. Unless the perpetrator of crimes against humanity owns up to his/her acts, then s/he remains in a state of limbo of denial and may never be redeemed from their evil acts. Pumla posits that “Typically, the perpetrator starts off with rationalization, to convince himself of the legitimacy of his acts, then he begins to communicate his rationalization to others. At this point it is no longer a rationalization but a “truth” that releases the perpetrator from any sense of guilt he may still feel about the evil deeds. If the enemy is doing the same thing he himself is engaged in, then he can’t be that bad” (23).

Eugene de Kock: Image courtesy of Google images

Part of de Kock’s redemption emanates from the fact that he was a crusader for the protection of children. He argues that his conscience would not have allowed him to see children suffering. Also, Pumla’s touch of his trigger hand helps him to connect with humanity by the mere fact that the gesture demonstrates empathy for his lost soul. His cry for a human touch to help rescue his dead soul from the evil that has swallowed it demonstrates his desire to recant his evil past. Besides, during the Truth and Reconciliation sessions, he notes that his confession helped him to shed off the burden of crimes he had committed that were weighing heavily on his shoulders. Indeed, his meeting with mothers and widows of victims he had tortured and killed not only brings closure to the women, but it also helps position them in a state of power over de Kock. Eventually when they choose to forgive him it is because they connect with de Kock as a human being. One woman says that she had forgiven de Kock owing to the empathy she felt for him and she hoped that when de Kock saw their tears he would realise it was not just for their husbands but also for him – that he can change and rediscover his humanity.

A Human Being Died that Night reveals the power of confession, forgiveness and reconciliation. Although there are many issues that require reparation for the South African nation to heal and forge forward in unity, a lot of sacrifice is required from both the victims and perpetrators of crimes against humanity. Full disclosure accompanied by genuine remorse and desire for forgiveness will help give impetus to the process of healing. Pumla notes that although it cannot provide solutions for all problems facing humankind, “dialogue does create avenues for broadening our models of justice and for healing deep fractures in a nation by unearthing, acknowledging, and recording what has been done. It humanizes the dehumanized and confronts perpetrators with their humanity. Through dialogue, victims as well as the greater society come to recognize perpetrators as human beings who failed morally, whether through coercion, the perverted convictions of a warped mind, or fear” (119). It is a text that provides a wealth of knowledge for communities and nations grappling with deep-seated decades of trauma and hatred to seek for a redemptive process hinged on forgiveness and reconciliation. Read about de Kock here: https://www.google.co.za/url?