DF Malan and the Rise of Afrikaner Nationalism. Lindie Koorts
but independently next to each other. You would have noticed that I distinguish between Afrikaners and South Africans.[110]
The last statement, that there was a difference between Afrikaners and South Africans, is of great significance. Malan used the term in an exclusivist sense – only Afrikaans speakers could be called Afrikaners. The concept ‘South African’ was a broader one, and it was here that Afrikaans and English speakers could meet. This was in contrast to the ideas expressed by General J.B.M. Hertzog, the man who was to establish the National Party. Hertzog often caused confusion, as he never made it clear what precisely the term ‘Afrikaner’ entailed. At times he used it in such a manner that it included English speakers who were loyal to South Africa, rather than to Britain.[111] While Hertzog was vague and ambiguous in his use of the term, Malan’s meaning was plain.
Malan had yet to meet Hertzog – the man under whom he would serve a large portion of his political career – but they were already bound together by a mutual friendship: that of the former president of the Orange Free State, M.T. Steyn. In the aftermath of the war, Steyn’s ailing health forced him to seek treatment in Europe. Accompanied by his family, he spent the summer of 1903 at Reichenhall in Germany. By that time, Malan, desperate to make some progress with his thesis, decided to find a quiet place to work.[112] He chose to return to Reichenhall, where he knew he would meet the Steyns. They, in turn, promptly incorporated him into their large and extended family.[113] He gushed about his first encounter in a letter to Nettie:
I visited President Steyn and his family and was received very warmly … Their house is just like any other Afrikaans home. With family members and friends, the family numbers about fifteen. The Pres. said that I should just walk in and out of his house, in true Afrikaner fashion, so that I won’t have any shortage of company … He is cheerful and full of jokes.[114]
A few days later, he wrote to his father with delight:
Pres. Steyn is looking very well. He and his family are very friendly. I visit their house quite often. I ate there today. He is in every respect a great man. Tomorrow (God willing) I will go on an outing in the neighbourhood with some of his companions. Mrs Steyn is a very friendly and modest Afrikaans woman and the President himself is exactly like one of our typical Afrikaner farmers. There is as little formality with him as with the most humble Afrikaner. It is so wonderful to see an Afrikaner family again. I believe it is the first time since I left Africa.[115]
Compared to the strict Dutch social etiquette, the informality of the Steyn family was not only a breath of fresh air, but also like a breeze from home. Malan, true to form, would have talked politics with the elder statesman. Steyn was one of the Bittereinders, a leader who had urged his generals to stay in the field as long as possible and exhorted them to the very last not to sacrifice the Republics’ independence.[116] The friendship that was formed during the summer of 1903 would last for the rest of their lifetimes, and the Steyns would remain a source of encouragement to Malan throughout his political career.
As the summer drew to a close, Malan returned to Utrecht to evacuate his room. He had decided to spend the next few months working in Edinburgh and he could not expect Professor Valeton to keep it for him during his extended absence. By the end of September Malan arrived in Edinburgh,[117] where he buried himself in his work. It was not without its frustrations. By January 1904, he lamented to Nettie that he still did not have a single word on paper.[118] By March, however, having settled back into Utrecht – this time in new lodgings – his writing was well under way.[119] He found most of the work intensely boring – ‘as dry as a piece of cork’[120] – but there were at least moments when it lightened up and became interesting.[121]
Malan’s study dealt with the philosophy of the Irish bishop George Berkeley. Berkeley’s idealism – or immaterialism, as it is otherwise known – was very abstract and difficult to grasp. His most controversial and notorious assertion was that matter did not exist – which prompted the illustrious Samuel Johnson to kick a stone with all his might, thundering: ‘I refute it thus.’[122] According to Berkeley, one perceived an object only through one’s senses and since one’s senses were rooted in one’s mind, it was impossible to perceive – or ascertain the existence of – anything without the use of a mind. Therefore all existence was by virtue of the mind and nothing could exist independently of the mind. Esse est percipi: to be is to be perceived, was Berkeley’s grounding principle. This did not mean that an object ceased to exist when one was no longer engaged in perceiving it – in order for it to exist, it was only necessary that some mind perceived it. God’s perception guaranteed the continued existence of all objects.
God was central to Berkeley’s philosophy. At a time when rapid advances in science made atheism all the more attractive, Berkeley tried to emphasise the world’s dependence on God.[123] He argued that all perceptions or ideas originated in God’s mind. Malan absorbed many of Berkeley’s ideas. Years later, he would refer to God as ‘an Omnipotent Brain’, a great Engineer who had designed the road on which the Afrikaner nation travelled.[124]
In the meantime, Malan felt overwhelmed by all the reading that he had to do. To Nettie he complained that all the ‘isms’ were enough to make anyone dizzy – idealism, realism, immaterialism, nominalism – there seemed to be no end.[125] It forced him to make his grudging peace with the fact that his stay in the Netherlands would have to be longer than he had initially hoped.[126]
Unlike his relationship with Valeton, Malan did not have a close relationship with his supervisor, Hugo Visscher, a political appointment whom Abraham Kuyper had foisted on the university’s theological faculty in 1904.[127] He was probably appointed as Malan’s promoter shortly after his return from Edinburgh – after Malan had already formulated his thesis topic and conducted most of his research.
Malan found the writing process arduous and the topic so tricky and extensive that he struggled to keep all the loose ends together.[128] In the spring weather he kept his windows open as wide as possible,[129] but the clarity in the air did not give him the same clarity of thought. He was never satisfied by the amount of work that he had completed, and at times found himself struggling to concentrate and unable to get anything done, which made the situation even worse.[130] By the time summer arrived, Malan decided not to go anywhere, but instead to finish his thesis.[131] He simply wanted to go home.
The strain began to take its toll. His handwriting became unshapely and difficult to read. In a letter to Nettie, he was unable to write in proper paragraphs, but merely wrote a list of his main points. One of the points simply read: ‘Fifthly: it is hot here.’[132]
His parents were worried about him, but he tried to dismiss their concerns in a letter in which his characters were noticeably misshaped – a far cry from his usual legible handwriting that is such a pleasure to read, and surely a sign to his parents of his mental state:
You should not think that I am at death’s door. I believe that if I had written that I am deadly ill, you immediately would have said: No, nonsense, it cannot be that bad, it is only idle talk. However, now that I write to you saying that I need a bit of rest and want to forget about a long and monotonous labour for a week or so, now you suddenly think: the man is close to death. Well, luckily there is no reason to be concerned. I went to the doctor for safety’s sake and he said that there is nothing radically wrong with me. The only thing is that my nervous system is a bit out of sorts, which, with a bit of care and carefulness and a change, will repair itself. He advised me to go and work outside the city for a while at a place where I can also undergo a cold water cure.[133]
Malan followed the doctor’s orders, and booked himself into a sanatorium near Arnhem for about six weeks. Here he obeyed his caretakers’ instructions to get a certain amount of sleep and to go for long walks in the scenic surroundings. He was told what to eat, and was only allowed to work for four hours a day. Malan now realised that his obsession to complete his thesis as quickly as possible had driven him to this point.[134] His stay at the sanatorium helped, and by early October most of his thesis had gone to the press. In a letter to his parents – in a much calmer tone than the one before, with his characters back to their old, legible shape – Malan expressed his newly acquired wisdom that ‘it is much easier to prophesy that one will write a thesis within a particular time span than to actually do it’.[135]