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Freedom Collection

Interviews with Max du Preez

Interviewed May 20, 2024

In the early ‘90s—well, ’91, it was getting quite heated. You know, apart from being charged with all these court cases and stuff, they bombed our offices [of the anti-apartheid newspaper Vrye Weekblad] and they sabotaged some of our cars and stuff like that, which was quite ugly. But I was never hurt. Nobody was ever hurt in the explosions, because also we knew that it was gonna happen so we were very careful. And they caught the guys who planted the bombs.

The security police caught them because the bombers were from the military—this was the story being put to us. This was ’91 now. And so the guy who actually planted the bomb confessed to the security police, and the security police officer came to me and he said, “This guy confessed.” And I said, “Why would he do that?” And he said, “Because we tortured the hell out of him.” And I said, “Well, why do you tell me that? You know how we feel about torture.” He says, “Yeah, but now I did it for you. You should be happy with that.” And that was kind of the shocking thing. He was never charged, of course. It was denied up to the end, but we know exactly who did it.

Yeah, so a lot of little sabotage going on: the wheel nuts of the cars would be—of my car would be loosened and you would drive off in the morning and your wheels fall of, or you would have no brakes, and stuff like that. But, you know, not—nothing—it could’ve been much more serious, because afterwards, after 1994—a lot of the information that we have on those dire days came from after 1994, when a lot of these people who—the security policemen and the military intelligence people and so on who tried to kill us and sabotage us came to us and told us the stories, because now we’re all on the same side, because now we’re a democracy, which I found very bizarre. And they tried to pretend that we were now friends.

So in this vein—and they suggested this kind of intimacy, which I think is universally true. If you torture a guy, there’s an intimacy between you afterwards, because you had seen each other. And they suspected—they wanted to impose that intimacy upon me because they’d be listening to every conversation I’d make. They were in my bedroom. They knew everything about me. They knew everything about my children and my girlfriends and whatever. And they thought there was an intimacy. I never knew them, and I certainly wouldn’t want an intimate relationship with anybody like that.

But one of these guys, a colonel, actually came to me after 1994, with me and some of my colleagues, invited us for lunch, and then he told me the story of how he was given the job to assassinate me on a piece of land in the eastern Free State, where I was visiting. And to him this was a wonderful story to tell, and there was a lot of back-slapping and drinking of beer and eating of steaks. And he told how he was sent and that he brought a Russian Dragunov assassination rifle and he was sitting there and my neighbor had told him where I’d be, and the first time he couldn’t shoot me because there was a young blonde woman next to me and he couldn’t get a clean shot. And he says, “And I’m not an animal. I wouldn’t shoot you in front of a young woman.” And the second time my daughter was with me and he couldn’t kill me, and the third time I didn’t pitch. And he says, “Well, and now it’s a good thing I didn’t kill you, because here we’re having a nice steak.”

You know, so those—there was a lot of that stuff that went on, but clearly they didn’t succeed in shooting me. But we hear still a lot of that, and I think a lot of ANC [African National Congress] people and a lot of anti-apartheid activists could tell you the same story of after ’94, people coming and saying, “Well, you remember that happening to you? It was me,” sort of, you know, we were in a nice little war together, which I find fascinating, that people would think that.

[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.]