‘The apartheid society I lived in was of fensive to the core of my being’
PETER HATHORN, 63CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA
The society I grew up in was one of the most bizarre and institutionally racist environments ever to exist. Every aspect of life was stratified along racial lines, puritanical and repressive. Our Durban suburb was all white, save for domestic workers. I went to a whites-only school. At the liberally minded University of Cape Town in the late 70s, barely a single academic or student was a person of colour. Sexual relations across the colour line were prohibited, punishable by jail time.
At that time the African National Congress was a banned organisation, engaged in an armed struggle. Nelson Mandela was imprisoned. South Africa’s army was fighting a war in the north of Namibia and southern Angola, and was integral to maintaining the apartheid state, long before it was deployed in Black townships in South Africa to quell uprisings. It was largely a conscript army of white men called up at 16. Failure to comply came with a prison sentence of up to two years, after which you could be enlisted again.
I went to university to defer military service, then decided to refuse it. From the late 70s, a small number of conscientious objectors in mainstream churches had voiced strong objections to apartheid and resisted participating in an unjust war. They had a profound impact on many of us. My opposition to serving was purely political: the apartheid society I lived in was offensive to the core of my being, and after graduation in 1983 I wrote to my prospective unit informing them of my decision.
After my court martial date was set, I spoke to students, other conscripts, campaigners and church groups, explaining my stand. I was sentenced to two years in prison and dishonourably discharged from the army.
Stepping through the wooden doors of Pretoria’s notorious “hanging prison” was daunting. It’s where people were brought to be executed, including many apartheid opponents. The warders were racist towards Black inmates and hostile to me. I felt fortunate when, after three months, a judge halved my sentence. I was released in early 1984, as the End Conscription Campaign was spreading and increasing numbers of conscripts were refusing to join up.
