Kill the Boer

by Ernst Roets

  HATE CRIME

  Hate crimes (also known as bias crimes) are prejudice-motivated crimes, usually violent by nature, that occur when a victim was targeted due to his or her membership (or perceived membership) of a particular social group. It is defined by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) as a ‘criminal offense committed against a person or property which is motivated, in whole or in part, by the offender’s bias against race, religion, disability, ethnic/national origin group, or sexual orientation group.’60 If a person is thus attacked, assaulted, raped, murdered or targeted for any other criminal offence based on his or her identity as belonging to a particular race or ethnicity, for example, that would constitute a hate crime. Usually that crime would then be punished more severely than if the crime had been committed for reasons that had nothing to do with the victim’s membership of a particular group. This would depend on the relevant legislation. Note, however, that at the time of writing, South Africa does not have hate crime laws in place, which renders the discussion on hate crimes with reference to farm murders partially irrelevant. It is helpful, though, to briefly discuss farm murders within the context of hate crimes, as it is a topic that is frequently discussed and may become more relevant in future.

  Arguably the greatest problem with regard to hate crimes is what to do when various motives are (or may be) present. This would certainly be a major factor in terms of farm murders, given that more than 90% of perpetrators have indicated that they were motivated by greed.61 As was already mentioned, a perpetrator can certainly have multiple motives when committing a crime. This reality is, however, severely downplayed when discussing farm murders, with a conclusion often being drawn that more than 90% were ‘only’ motivated by greed. A study of hate crimes in the United States of America (USA) has also found that where multiple motives are (or may be) present, law enforcers usually opt for whatever explanation eliminates the possibility of a hate crime.

  Take the case of Arthur ‘JR’ Warren, a 26-year-old gay black man from Grant Town, West Virginia. In July 2000, Warren was murdered by two white teenagers. He was beaten until unconscious and believed to be dead. $20 (R250) was taken from his wallet. Warren was then put in the trunk of a Camaro and driven to a remote area to be dumped. While en route to the dump site, the teenagers discovered that Warren was still alive. They stopped the car, dragged Warren’s body out of the trunk, and while he was still conscious, they repeatedly drove their vehicle over his body, crushing him to death. The case was popularly considered to be a hate crime in minority communities and in the media. This is because all the right elements were present: the victim was black and openly gay, while the perpetrators were young white males from a rural southern town. However, the police refused to recognise the crime as a hate crime because there was also another explanation for the crime that had nothing to do with the above-mentioned: the perpetrators had been under the influence of drugs.62

  It turns out Warren’s case was not isolated, but merely one in a long list of ambiguous cases that could possibly be described as hate crimes, but possibly not. Upon analysing various cases it becomes clear that in the majority of ambiguous cases like that of Warren, law enforcers tend to side with whatever explanation excludes hate crime. This is largely due to a lack of clarity in the relevant legislation that directs law enforcers to deal with hate crimes.63

  If (or when) South Africa enacts hate crime legislation, we can reasonably expect that this will also be the case in South Africa.

  A BETTER STRATEGY

  Combating the scourge of farm murders by attempting to have such murders recognised as genocide is an unwise strategy. To engage with the concept of genocide is to engage with a highly controversial, hotly-debated, technical legal definition, where the tendency is almost always to interpret whatever is happening as not complying with the definition. Other than the fact that the crime of genocide does not extend to occupational or economic groups, and given that insufficient evidence exists of a coordinated campaign to destroy the group, the term genocide remains arguable. The link between hate speech against farmers and acts of violence against farmers is not sufficient to prove genocide, as the evidence that these acts of violence are an immediate consequence of the incitement that was committed remains a vague science. Also, being proved wrong on the question of genocide tends to create an impression that farm murders are not really a crisis.

  On the other hand, it appears that the argument that a process of ethnic cleansing might be happening in South Africa is becoming increasingly stronger, particularly with reference to white landowners. A variety of factors have to be considered in conjunction with the stark reality of farm murders – matters that have all been touched on in this book. These include:

  The destruction or removal of Afrikaner statues and monuments.64

  Hate speech by some of the most influential political leaders, including Julius Malema, members of Parliament, members of Cabinet and even former President Jacob Zuma.65

  The comment by President Cyril Ramaphosa that Julius Malema has a ‘home’ in the ANC,66 shortly after Malema’s comments that he intends to ‘slit the throat of whiteness’ and that white people could be happy that he was not calling for genocide.67

  The as yet undenied comment by Cyril Ramaphosa that white people have to be dealt with like ‘boiling a frog alive, which is done by raising the temperature very slowly’.68

  Negative stereotyping of white farmers by influential political leaders, including members of Parliament, members of Cabinet and even by President Cyril Ramaphosa.69

  The notion that minorities ‘have less rights’ because they are fewer in number, as purported by former President Jacob Zuma, and the statement by the ruling party’s spokesperson that angry and disillusioned members of the coloured community ‘shouldn’t feel as if they have been reduced to the status of a minority community’.70

  Refusal to publicly reprimand those who commit hate speech towards white farmers in particular, and both the ANC and the EFF’s willingness to go to court to protect their so-called right to sing songs in which the murder of Boers and white farmers in particular is encouraged.71

  The refusal to prioritise farm murders, despite all the evidence that prioritisation would be the most reasonable government response.72

  The scorning and ridiculing of those who call for the prioritising of farm attacks, including even the victims of farm attacks and those whose loved ones have been murdered.73

  The claim that white farmers are ‘land thieves’ and that they should be treated as criminals by senior members of the ruling party.74

  Disproportionate media reporting of incidents of violent crime where farmers are perpetrators, and severe under-reporting in the media of incidents of violence where farmers are victims. This is particularly evident in the reporting of the state broadcaster.75

  The motion adopted in Parliament to review section 25 of the Constitution (the property rights clause), and other clauses where necessary, to make it possible for the state to expropriate land without compensation and that this has to be done because ‘whites stole the land’, in spite of the historical inaccuracy of this comment.76

  The most effective strategy against farm attacks would be to campaign against farm killings with the necessary vigour, without making statements that are impossible to prove. In adopting this approach, we maintain our credibility in speaking about a crisis that is very real and that has far-reaching consequences. On the other hand, as long as the South African government refuses to decisively deal with these 12 issues, it is safe to argue – even if a motive of genocide or ethnic cleansing is hard to prove – that the South African government is at least complicit in an extremely alarming crisis developing in their midst.

  Robert Lynn (66) in his living room holding the blowtorch with which he was tortured on 19 February 2017. The blowtorch was never confiscated by die police for forensic evidence.

  Photo: Ernst Roets

  ‘We were then rushed by ambulance to Mi
ddelburg – about a 45 minute drive.

  ‘I only remember waking up at 21:30 that evening. They said that they weren’t going to operate on me, as the bullet was too close to my brain. Sue never regained consciousness and her life support was eventually switched off.’

  CHAPTER 23

  It’s not over

  ROBERT LYNN

  The attack on Robert Lynn and his wife, Sue Howarth, received international press coverage due to the fact that they were British nationals.

  The stolen pickup truck was found soon after the attack, deserted. The attackers had taken R320 ($26), two cellphones and a small video camera.

  When my colleague Nantes Kelder and I sat down with Lynn in the living room where he had been tortured, I asked him what he thought about the South African Police Service (SAPS).

  ‘Pathetic!’ said Lynn. ‘They don’t tell you anything.’

  Four months after the incident, the SAPS found his video camera in the bushes at the house of a girlfriend of one of the attackers. Instead of keeping the camera as evidence, they just gave it back to him. ‘Try getting your car back from the police,’ he exclaimed. ‘Administrative-wise they are absolutely inept. It cost me R3 000 ($240) to get my car back. And that was just for the key.’

  Lynn pointed to the coffee table. ‘There it is. That’s the blowtorch that I was tortured with. They didn’t even take it as evidence. It’s still here. They never even looked at it.’

  By the time this book was published, the case had been postponed ‘probably about eight times’ already. ‘Actually I’m not sure,’ said Lynn. ‘I lost count.’

  Howarth and Lynn’s docket was destroyed because the building in which it was stored had been burned down. It had been stored in an empty building beside the post office. They had more than 90 police files in there. Lynn was told that a criminal who was awaiting trial knew where the files were and so he went and burned down the building.

  ‘How could a common criminal know that the files were in that place?’ asked Lynn ‘Conspiracy theories are quite rife in this place.’

  ‘The trust between the police and myself is gone. I don’t care what they do for me now. They can kiss my feet. They crossed the bridge with me. There is no trust left.’

  Part of Lynn’s frustration is with the fact that the SAPS regard the crime merely as opportunism and as ‘robbery gone wrong’.

  ‘It’s clear that they went there to assassinate Susan. How can you go through a window at 02:10 in the morning and start shooting? And you don’t even know where the money is. They went there to kill Susan. I was just collateral damage.’

  HENK GREYLING

  Henk Greyling (pseudomyn) and his family rushed to the hospital. Greyling had had his teeth bashed out, his ribs cracked and his spine twisted. He had been shot four times and he had a big flesh wound beneath his lower jaw from when his attackers tried to slit his throat. His brother, Stefan (pseudonym), had been shot through his collar bone and his lung had been perforated. His uncle was a bleeder, and had been bleeding excessively from where his ear had been cut open with a side cutter. His aunt seemed not to have sustained serious injuries, although she had been traumatised by the attack.

  Greyling still did not know what had happened to the five children who had been in the house when he arrived on the scene.

  Upon arrival at the hospital, the doctor seemed to be slow in responding to his brother, so Greyling tried to attack him. ‘The doctor was black. I had just been attacked by eight black people, who tried to slit my throat,’ explained Greyling ashamedly. ‘Suddenly I saw another black man who knew how to help my brother, but who didn’t bother to do so. I went for him. I shouldn’t have.’ At that moment, the five children arrived at the hospital – all were unharmed. When Greyling saw the children, he collapsed. ‘It’s only then that they realised that I had been shot,’ he said.

  ‘Their plan was to kill us,’ said Greyling. ‘They immediately tried to kill me. The most distressing of it all, said Greyling, was that at least two of the attackers had been SAPS officers. ‘We know they were police,’ he said. They had firearms like the SAPS have. They moved like the SAPS. At least one was wearing a bulletproof vest. He carried his gun on his chest. They were even wearing SAPS boots – at least two of them were.

  MARIANDRA HEUNIS

  ‘When they left the house, a sense of logic was knocked into me that could only have been sent from God,’ recalled Mariandra Heunis. Her husband, Johann (43), had just been shot in front of her and her six- year-old daughter, Mieke. The last time she had seen Mischa (4) and Majandré (2) was when she had tucked them into their beds downstairs earlier that night. She was 36 weeks pregnant.

  ‘I knew that Johann was dead, because Mieke and I saw them shoot him in the head. But I kept hoping that maybe there was a chance. I checked if he was breathing. He wasn’t. I realised that I had to check that the doors were locked. I ran downstairs, locked the door and ran back upstairs to Johann again.’

  ‘I saw that the phones were gone. For a moment I thought that I had to send an email for help.’ The thought of her sending an email to get help made her smile, slightly embarrassed. Amid what she had been sharing with me for the past 30 minutes, Mariandra’s smile shook me back to reality. It was 2018, almost a year and a half since that night. We were sitting in the boardroom of Sonja Smith Funeral Group, where Mariandra had started working after they had assisted with Johann’s funeral. She had been a stay-at-home mom and they did not have life insurance. Other than dealing with Johann’s passing, getting a job was just one of the many obstacles that she had had to overcome.

  ‘But who’s going to check their emails at 02:30 in the morning? That’s not going to work.’ She shook her head.

  ‘I just knew that I had to get the children out of here. I didn’t know if they were coming back. I didn’t know if they were waiting for us. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know how they got in.’

  ‘The hardest decision of my life was to leave Johann there.’

  The fleeting smile on Mariandra’s face was quickly replaced by a tear running down her cheek. She stared at the table with both her hands covering her mouth.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, bitterly self-conscious about the fact that she would not have been crying if I had not asked all these questions.

  ‘No,’ she said. I could see that she wanted to push through, so I asked another question. ‘When the shots started firing, did you hear the other two children?’

  ‘No, they were just silent. When I turned Johann around and I saw his face, I knew that there was no way that he was still alive. Then I ran down to the other girls. I ran to Mischa. She was wide awake, just lying there under her blanket. She asked me: “Mommy, who is dead?” I just said “Mischa we need to go. Grab a blanket and come.” Both Misha and Mieke then ran after me to Majandré’s room. She was also awake. The relief I felt at seeing them unharmed was indescribable. I picked up Majandré and I had the girls stand at the back door. I said to them: “Mommy is going to open this door now. When it’s open just big enough for you to fit through, I need you to run to the car as fast as you can. Jump in the car and lie down.” ’

  ‘Somehow I managed to fasten Majandré in her baby seat. I then rushed to the nearest petrol station. The road to the gate was a narrow, curvy dirt road. I rushed down the road with the lights off, because I didn’t want them to see us. I don’t know how I managed to do that.’

  ‘Mieke asked me why are we leaving without daddy. I said to her that we had to go and that daddy was “oorlede” [English: deceased]. But she didn’t know what that meant.’ Only later, when Mieke heard the police officer tell Mariandra that Johann was dead, did she understand.

  IT GETS WORSE

  As we were having these conversations, there were (and still are) people who actively argue that farm attacks are ‘just crime’, that these attacks do not occur in disproportionate numbers, that they are not extraordinarily brutal and that farmers and their families a
re ‘not deserving of special treatment’. But it gets worse. It is not ordinary people who argue this. They are some of the most influential people on the African continent, let alone South Africa. It is the President, it is his Cabinet, it is the Minister of Police, the National Police Commissioner. It is even opposition parties and, to a large degree, also the media.

  But yet again, it gets worse.

  Not only are we confronted by these arguments. Not only have I personally been told by a member of the ruling African National Congress’s (ANC’s) youth league that I need to bear in mind that little Wilmien Potgieter deserved what had happened to her and her family, because she was ‘guilty by association’, despite the fact that she was two years old ...

  We have to switch on our televisions in the morning, open the newspaper, tune in on the radio, to hear the most influential people in our country sing songs about how we should be murdered. ‘Kill the Boer, kill the farmer,’ we hear. ‘Shoot the Boer, they are rapists,’ we hear. ‘One bullet, one settler,’ we hear. ‘White man, you must die,’ we hear. ‘Shoot to kill the Boere,’ we hear.

  Despite the fact that farmers are attacked and killed in completely disproportionate numbers, despite the fact that many of these people are murdered with the most horrifying methods of torture imaginable, despite the fact that farmers are expected to feed a nation and instructed to create more jobs, and despite the fact that farmers live in remote areas where they are far away from their neighbours and far away from the SAPS, we are told that there should not be a counter-strategy to curb these attacks. We are told that doing so would amount to discrimination against people who are not farmers, because it would create the impression that farmers are special.