And Justice For All. Stephen Ellmann
himself did not testify but rather, like Nelson Mandela at the Rivonia trial, he made an unsworn statement from the dock. In it he declared:
I accept, my Lord, the general rule that for the protection of a society laws should be obeyed. But when the laws themselves become immoral, and require the citizen to take part in an organised system of oppression – if only by his silence and apathy – then I believe that a higher duty arises. This compels one to refuse to recognise such laws …
My conscience, my Lord, does not permit me to afford these laws such recognition as even a plea of guilty would involve. Hence, though I shall be convicted by this Court, I cannot plead guilty. I believe that the future may well say that I acted correctly.
Now he spoke without ambivalence of the necessity for his having gone underground:
My Lord, it was to keep faith with all those dispossessed by apartheid that I broke my undertaking to the Court, that I separated myself from my family, pretended I was someone else, and accepted the life of a fugitive. I owed it to the political prisoners, to the banished, to the silenced and to those under house arrest not to remain a spectator, but to act. I knew what they expected of me, and I did it. I felt responsible, not to those who are indifferent to the sufferings of others, but to those who are concerned. I knew, my Lord, that by valuing above all their judgement, I would be condemned by people who are content to see themselves as respectable and loyal citizens. I cannot regret any such condemnation that may follow me.38
His words did not change the result (nor did he expect they would – he had expressly declined to ask for forgiveness or plead for mercy). He was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. He would never be free again.
Meanwhile, life went on, and Arthur’s connections with the Fischer family remained and even deepened. The families grew to be social friends and more than that – Bram’s daughter Ruth felt the Chaskalsons had become part of her extended family, always welcoming and always ready to do whatever they could for her.39 One of the ways that Arthur could help was with his professional skill. Bram’s daughter Ilse had been directly involved in helping him to go underground without being stopped by the security police, and she had resumed contact with him during his time in hiding. Bram had also brought her onto the Central Committee of the illegal Communist Party, and she would be officially listed by the government as a Communist within a week of Bram’s trial. She was, in other words, seriously vulnerable herself. Perhaps while Bram was underground, Ilse went to Arthur to discuss what she should do. For the first time she laid out to him all the facts about her own involvement. He was unfazed. With her he considered her circumstances, took into account her goal of remaining in the country, and came to a conclusion: he advised her to stay out of sight for a while.40 As he had with his friend Toni Shimoni in earlier and more innocent times, Arthur showed his ability to take a situation in hand and guide someone he cared about in negotiating it. He would advise Ilse’s sister Ruth as well, and she too remembered him always being incisive and clear.41
Fischer’s son Paul, who had cystic fibrosis, earned an honours degree at the University of Cape Town and returned to Johannesburg. He and his sister Ilse regularly had dinner at the Chaskalsons’ home.42 But Paul succumbed to his illness. The government refused Fischer permission to attend his son’s funeral. The family felt that Arthur, their friend, was the natural person to give the funeral eulogy.43 The strength of Arthur’s feeling for Paul, and for his father, was evident in his words. Saying that ‘Paul had the same integrity and commitment “which made Bram the great man that he is”’, Arthur continued: ‘He was Paul Fischer; a boy who grew into a young man, who lived fully, and was loved by all who knew him … He would not have wanted us to gather here today to pay tribute to him; but that is our right and he is not here to prevent it, nor to prevent our saying that we are glad that he lived and that we knew him.’44
At least once Arthur provided legal advice to Fischer while he was imprisoned. We know this from the memoir of the Rivonia trialist Denis Goldberg, who writes:
Bram, through his daughter Ilse, asked Arthur Chaskalson if there was an arguable case to put to a court to win the right of access to news [for the political prisoners at Pretoria Central]. He replied that there was a very weak case. Bram did not want to embarrass his fellow advocate by asking him to argue a weak case and allowed the matter to drop.45
Fischer’s respect for Arthur’s legal judgement is evident here, as is his consideration for Arthur’s standing as an advocate.46 But apparently Arthur was in touch with Bram about this matter only through Ilse. While George Bizos, as Bram’s counsel, was able to visit him regularly in prison, Arthur, for these purposes evidently treated as just a friend, could not visit because only family members could have social visits with prisoners.47
While Bram was in prison, Ilse and her future husband Tim Wilson decided to get married. They wanted to marry in the prison, with Bram, but prison rules prevented him from meeting with more than two people at once, and the minister would have been one person too many. So they were married in a small chapel, with only a few guests, who included the Chaskalsons and the Bizoses. Lorraine Chaskalson was much involved with the planning of the ceremony and may have cooked for it.
Fischer, in prison, developed prostate cancer. Prison authorities grossly neglected his care, though perhaps with no ‘malicious’ intent; at one point, Denis Goldberg, one of the Rivonia accused now serving his life sentence, nursed Bram through painful nights. The family pressed for Fischer’s compassionate release, and consulted with Arthur about how to accomplish this.48 Ultimately Fischer was transferred to his brother’s house, suitably far from Johannesburg and any conceivable political impact this dying man could have had. His brother’s house was re-designated as a prison and there he died. The Prisons Department claimed his ashes.
Arthur spoke at the funeral, held on 12 May 1975. It hadn’t been planned that he would speak. The leading Afrikaans writer André Brink had become deeply attached to Bram and asked to speak – but then the day before the funeral he backed out, citing pressure from his own father. Thirty years later, when Brink encountered Fischer’s daughter Ilse at a party, he was still embarrassed by this. Arthur agreed to read Brink’s statement, thus taking on whatever risk there was of attracting the security police’s attention. He also read messages from five other people – messages from three more people ‘could not be read because the senders were banned’. He was the only speaker. (A few other Johannesburg lawyers, including George Bizos, attended.49) For Brink, Arthur reportedly said, ‘Fischer had proved that “Afrikaner” meant infinitely more than someone identified with a narrow ideology. “If Afrikanerdom is to survive,” [Brink] went on, “it may well be as a result of the broadening and liberating influence of men like Bram Fischer.”’50
Arthur also spoke for himself, but because that hadn’t been planned, he didn’t write his remarks down.51 However, according to one newspaper report, he pulled no punches in what he said: ‘Mr Chaskalson said Bram engaged in a struggle for equality, for freedom from domination, freedom from control by imperial powers, for an end to racialism and for the building of socialism.’ Arthur went on to say: ‘His decision to remain was made in the full knowledge that few of his comrades remained, who were not in prison, and there was little hope of any immediate success. His arrest, trial and the many years of imprisonment that followed, he saw as a continuation of the struggle to which he had committed himself.’52
The link between the Chaskalsons and the Fischers continued. Years later, in the 1980s, Ilse Fischer Wilson, Bram’s older daughter, would work as a librarian and then a paralegal at the Legal Resources Centre. When Ilse and her husband Tim finally received passports in the mid-1980s, after decades of trying, Arthur happened to be in her office and she told him the news. He was carrying a pile of papers of some sort, and he was so happy that he threw everything in his arms to the ceiling. Ilse and Tim remained friends of Arthur and Lorraine’s for life, and were among the guests at Lorraine’s 70th birthday party, which Arthur and his daughter-in-law Susie organised just months before he died.53 Ruth Fischer Rice and her husband were part of the Cape Town branch of this multi-stage party.54
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