(Author: Benji Shulman, Vol. 65, No. 3, Chanukah 2010)
Comrade Goldberg is a documentary currently doing the alternative film circuit telling the story of one of South Africa’s less well-known struggle heroes. It looks at the life and times of Dennis Goldberg who, like Nelson Mandela and a number of other activists, was charged with sabotage following the police raid on Lilliesleaf Farm in Rivonia. He was tried, found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment, because he was white to be served at Pretoria State Prison. His comrades were sent Robben Island.
Unfortunately, from the outset the film suffers from poor directing. It is clearly made for a German viewership, has a German director and features Goldberg speaking the language fluently for much of the film. As a result, it follows a simplistic linear anti-apartheid narrative designed for an audience that has little knowledge of the topic. It starts out with the evils of apartheid, looks briefly at Goldberg’s early life, goes on to chronicle his involvement with subversive activities and then his arrest, trial and eventual imprisonment. It concludes with the triumphant victory of the ANC and a bit of lamenting over the state of the post-apartheid regime, along with some of Goldberg’s retirement activities. The capitalist West German government and its multinational organisations also come under close scrutiny for their support of the old South Africa. In many ways, the film represents the genre of the standard anti-apartheid story.
The problem is that Goldberg’s story is far from standard. For example, unlike many other apartheid prisoners much of Goldberg’s resistance came in the jails where he was held. Goldberg led a very active existence for a prisoner, organising and participating in numerous escape bids. These were audacious actions, almost James Bond-like in their execution, and yet the audience sees nothing of them at all. There is also nothing about his exile roles for the ANC or governmental positions post-release.
Thus, Comrade Goldberg is an interesting film not so much in what it says but rather in what it ignores, as well as in the cuddly yet quietly sad figure of Goldberg himself. Take, for example, a poignant scene when he walks through Robben Island with his comrade, Ahmed Kathrada. It does not take long before Kathrada is instantly recognised by some passing school children and their tour guide. Goldberg, however, has to wait in the shadows until almost apologetically being introduced at a later point. The reason for this apparent slight we only see later.
In the early 1980s, political prisoners were offered the opportunity to be released if they renounced the armed struggle. Most refused, but Goldberg took the offer. It is clear that many in the ANC that felt that this was a betrayal. However, instead of integrating the reasons for the decision or issues it raises, the film takes on a confessional tone.
Interviews with his friends try to defend his actions or show that he is now a forgiven member of the ANC. There is an embarrassing sequence where Kathrada tries to argue that prison was harder for white political prisoners than those of other races. This is something that has been flatly contradicted even by those who were serving with Goldberg at the time. It is also clear that resentment still lingers in the ANC. Pallo Jordan and Jeremy Cronin were the only other personalities of a high profile interviewed for the making of the film.
It would seem that the other reason that Goldberg’s decision was controversial was that he was released to the care of Israel. Goldberg explains that this was done because it was where members of his family lived. However, Goldberg is as virulent an anti-Zionist as any you are ever likely to meet. During the interview, he spends a little time on a cute story involving an El AL air hostess before launching into an anti-Israel tirade (lest anyone get the wrong idea about his ideological thinking). He also makes sure to point out that he left the country as soon possible.
I asked Goldberg, who was at the film’s screening, about the incident. It occurred to me that if the ANC had been angry at Goldberg for being released to Israel, what did they think of fellow Rivonia arrestee Arthur Goldreich, who had actually gone to live there? His answer was startling. He said when he eventually arrived in England after his release, he found that the ANC had completely excluded Goldreich from the organisation. They would not even send him anti-apartheid literature. Goldberg had had to intervene personally to remedy this. He then confided to me that he found this behaviour rather strange. Both England and America had supported apartheid, yet going into exile in those countries never meant you were shunned. To explain this, he proffered the predictable mantra that it must be on account of Israel’s similarity to apartheid.
This is an interesting response in that it is an explicit acknowledgment that the ANC holds a double standard when it comes to Israel, one coming straight from a Jewish, anti-Zionist member of the party. It is also interesting because Nelson Mandela, of the same era, has made a rather sound assessment of Goldreich and the Zionist enterprise in general. It has been thought that ANC hostility towards Israel only started in the 1970s, in line with rest of the African continent. This might point to a much longer resentment against the Jewish state than was previously thought.
In the end, Comrade Goldberg comes across as a wasted opportunity. What we should have seen was a remarkable man telling a remarkable story. Instead, we get a half-baked cinema experience that seeks to rehabilitate Goldberg’s public image by conforming to party discipline and international ignorance. It is a pity; one gets the feeling that Goldberg deserved more.
Benji Shulman is currently doing his masters in Geography at Wits University. He is a former National Chairperson of the South African Union of Jewish Students.
