The message, which arrived early on Thursday morning, was brief and simple: “His family and the Denis Goldberg Legacy Foundation Trust are very sad to announce that Denis Goldberg passed away just before midnight on Wednesday 29 April 2020. His was a life well lived in the struggle for freedom in South Africa. We will miss him.”
This message signified the kind of man that Denis Theodore Goldberg was: humble and grounded. He did not take himself seriously, but he did take seriously his lifetime of service to the people of South Africa, without ever seeking personal acknowledgement and plaudits. It was a service he would continue until the end.
Goldberg, who was 87, was one of the legends of our struggle. He was the only white person convicted and sentenced to life in prison for treason with Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu and five others in the Rivonia Trial in 1964. The only remaining Rivonia Trialist is Andrew Mlangeni, who is 94. Mlangeni turns 95 on 6 June this year.
Goldberg was sent to Pretoria Central Prison while his seven comrades were sent to Robben Island. He spent a lonely 22 years in prison, being joined occasionally in prison by a handful of other white anti-apartheid activists. He was released in 1985 and immediately left for London to become a spokesperson for the ANC in exile.
I was fortunate to have known Goldberg for most of the past 20 years. I conducted many interviews with him, in order to record our struggle history.
Goldberg was one of the founder members of the ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe, and, as an engineer, he was responsible for explosives. On the day he and others were arrested at Liliesleaf farm in Rivonia, Johannesburg, on 11 July 1963, he was busy planning where to buy weapons for Operation Mayibuye, an underground campaign of MK.
“When the security police came into the house, I tried to flush my notes down the toilet but I was caught red-handed because there were cops at the door of the toilet,” he told me in one of our interviews.
He said that his involvement in struggle started at an early age. “We grew up in Slat River, Woodstock and Observatory. As a ten-year-old in the war, I sold the Guardian newspaper. Every Friday I used to sell dozens of copies at the clothing factories of Salt River.
“But I also knew about the war; I also knew about the racism of the Nazis; I knew it was not just about the holocaust, but about all opposition to oppression; about the link between communism and other doctrines. I could not express it so articulately, but I knew.
“For me, if we fought racism in Europe, Japan and the Far East, why did we have racism in our country? A child observes and hears things and discussions. My parents were communists and we had people of all races and classes in our houses. Workers, professors and factory owners all came to our house.
“When I became independent as an adult, I joined the Modern Youth Society, a non-racial youth movement, and later the Congress of Democrats and the Congress Alliance. I was part of the joint Congress executive in Cape Town.
“I also joined the Communist Party and later argued for the formation of Umkhonto we Sizwe and joined Umkhonto after its formation. There was no hesitation to join because I had been arguing for its formation for a long time.”
After he returned from exile, Goldberg spent a while working as an adviser to the Minister of Water Affairs and Forestry before he retired in 2006. In 2009, he received the Order of Luthuli (Silver) from President Kgalema Motlanthe.
Goldberg had a huge art collection at his house in Hout Bay which looked like an art gallery. He was passionate about supporting local artists, and this will be a major focus of the project that he leaves unfinished in his legacy foundation: the “House of Hope” which they plan to build in Hout Bay soon.
Despite being diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, struggling with a heart condition and not being able to move around freely, Goldberg worked tirelessly to ensure the building of this project, where they want to teach various art forms to the young people of Hout Bay. He negotiated support from various sources and was personally involved in securing a piece of land where the House of Hope will be built.
It is on a disused tennis court and we were privileged to attend a function there in February where he spoke passionately about his plans. Despite being in a wheelchair, he insisted on standing while he spoke and at some point, he had to be helped when he became dizzy.
He had used every occasion over the past few years, including his birthdays, as fundraisers for his foundation and the House of Hope project.
I was privileged to be among a reasonably small group of people celebrating his 80th birthday seven years ago and what struck me was that it was attended mainly by what some people would call “ordinary” people. The only politicians in attendance were fellow struggle veterans Pallo Jordan and Ben Turok (who passed away last year). His birthday party was devoid of political speeches, which I realised was because Goldberg did not go around wearing his struggle credentials on his sleeves.
Goldberg found reason to laugh at just about everything. He even laughed when he spoke about how the judge in the Rivonia Trial sentenced them to life in prison.
“I’m really glad he did not sentence us to death,” he laughed when I interviewed him a few years ago.
But the one time he did not laugh was when he spoke about how the ANC had become corrupted under former president Jacob Zuma. Goldberg said Zuma was “dishonest”.
“I am very angry, but this is painful, sad stuff. It is very sad, but I have to call on people to speak up,” he told me.
In a piece I wrote for a book to mark his 80th birthday, I said: “The best way to pay tribute to someone such as Goldberg is to make sure that his legacy lives on way beyond his 80th birthday.” His legacy should live forever. Rest in peace, comrade.
(First published as a Thinking Allowed column in the Weekend Argus on Saturday, 2 May 2020)
