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WHAT THE MOVEMENT FOR PALESTINE CAN LEARN FROM THE FIGHT AGAINST
APARTHEID  
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Waleed Shahid
October 18, 2024
The Nation
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_ The successful push to change US policy toward South Africa
provides a useful blueprint for our current moment. _

Ron Dellums speaks against apartheid on the floor of the U.S. House
of Representatives, photo: screen grab

 

The US anti-apartheid movement of the 1970s and ’80s offers a useful
blueprint for today’s movements to follow—especially those working
to end American support for Israel’s military rule over
Palestinians. There are valuable lessons for activists to learn from
the way the anti-apartheid movement transformed grassroots energy into
political power. 

US foreign policy toward South Africa did not change overnight; it was
the product of sustained organizing, strategic alliances, and deep
moral clarity, culminating in the passage of the Comprehensive
Anti-Apartheid Act of 1986. But its success showed that you need all
of those elements, not just some, to win.

The key players in the movement challenging Washington on the inside,
like Representative Ron Dellums of California, Representative William
Gray of Pennsylvania and Randall Robinson of TransAfrica, understood
that protests and boycotts, though essential, were not enough. To
force change, they needed to navigate Washington’s corridors of
power.

Dellums, who represented the East Bay in the House for nearly 30
years, was committed to the anti-apartheid fight from early on in his
tenure. In 1972, he introduced his first disinvestment bill, calling
for a complete boycott of South Africa. Although initially
unsuccessful, the bill became a powerful organizing tool for activists
and raised awareness about apartheid on Capitol Hill. Dellums’s
approach to politics was deeply rooted in his radical beliefs,
reflecting the progressive movement in Berkeley that brought him to
Washington. As Dellums said, “I had not gone to Congress in 1971 to
take up the banner of ending apartheid, but I had been swept into the
fight.”

Dellums’s radical stance often faced political challenges,
especially in Congress, where his uncompromising approach was viewed
as too extreme.”When certain political leaders and much of the
establishment press looked at me, they did not see Ron Dellums, a
member of Congress equal to all others under our system, where
districts grant mandates to representatives through the ballot—they
saw Ron Dellums, representative of that ‘commie-pinko left-wing
community of Berzerkely,’ and a person whose ideas belonged outside
the legislative chamber, if anywhere.”

Dellums was undeterred. He kept the fight against apartheid in the
public eye, using his platform to continually push for sanctions, even
as his bills repeatedly failed to pass. In _Race for Sanctions:
African Americans Against Apartheid, 1946-1994_, Francis Njubi Nesbitt
explores the pivotal relationship between Dellums, TransAfrica, and
Capitol Hill. Led by Randall Robinson, TransAfrica worked closely with
Dellums, forming strategic alliances with civil rights groups, labor
unions, Black churches, and student activists. Nesbitt details how
these coalitions applied grassroots pressure on Congress, overcoming
opposition and shaping US anti-apartheid policy. At the same time,
TransAfrica organized protests and sit-ins at the South African
embassy. Robinson’s leadership helped to turn apartheid into a
national issue, galvanizing a multiracial movement that drove media
attention and increased support from Black lawmakers.

The anti-apartheid movement had to contend with Cold War geopolitics.
Throughout the 1970s and ’80s, US foreign policy was dominated by
fears of communist expansion, particularly in Africa, where liberation
movements often received support from the Soviet Union. The apartheid
regime skillfully exploited these fears, presenting itself as a
xxxxxx against communism in southern Africa. President Ronald Reagan
justified continued US support for apartheid by framing South Africa
as strategically essential to the West. His policy of “constructive
engagement” argued that isolating South Africa would drive it toward
the Soviet sphere of influence, and that maintaining friendly
relations with the apartheid government was a more effective way to
bring about reform.

Dellums, Gray, and Robinson worked to dismantle this narrative.
Robinson, in particular, reframed the debate by arguing that apartheid
was not only a moral issue but also a destabilizing force in southern
Africa. Supporting the apartheid regime, Robinson contended, only
fueled anti-American sentiment across the continent, weakening US
influence and credibility. Similarly, Senator Edward Kennedy argued
that US foreign policy should reflect American democratic values, and
that supporting liberation, not repression, was the best way to
counter Soviet influence in the region. By focusing on the human
rights violations of apartheid, these activists sidestepped
accusations of aiding communism and made arguments rooted in American
values and national security interests, allowing them to advocate for
sanctions without being dismissed as Soviet sympathizers.

The fight reached a climax in the 1985–86 legislative session.
Dellums and the CBC were gearing up for a significant fight over the
“Dellums bill,” which called for the United States to sever all
ties with South Africa’s apartheid regime. This bill was driven by
demands from South African leaders like Bishop Desmond Tutu and
members of the African National Congress, reflecting the broader
anti-apartheid movement’s insistence on sweeping US disengagement
from the apartheid system. The Reagan administration was staunchly
opposed to the measure.

The movement wasn’t without internal friction. William Gray, another
prominent Black representative, introduced a more moderate bill that
sought to prohibit only new investments in South Africa, reflecting a
more pragmatic approach to winning broader support. The CBC,
navigating the need for both progress and principle, cosponsored both
bills, ensuring that the issue remained alive in Congress while
striking a balance between radicalism and pragmatism.

Dellums, despite his hesitations, understood that his radical bill
could exert pressure from the left, even if it wasn’t likely to
pass. When the Gray bill came to the floor for a vote as an amendment
on June 19, 1986, Dellums seized the opportunity to present his more
radical bill as an alternative.

Although it was only allotted one hour of debate in the 10-hour period
set for Gray’s legislation, Dellums saw this as a crucial opening.
Although expectations for the Dellums bill were low, it passed during
a voice vote, catching Republicans off guard. They believed the
radical nature of Dellums’s bill would lead to its failure in the
Senate. Yet this initial victory sent a strong signal to the Senate
that the House was serious about imposing significant sanctions on
South Africa.

Dellums famously remarked that “nothing would be the same again”
after the House vote, signaling a fundamental shift in the political
landscape. He noted that neither Democrats nor Republicans wanted to
be seen supporting apartheid, and this vote set a new standard below
which the House would not fall.

The Senate responded with a more moderate sanctions bill, spearheaded
by Richard Lugar, which passed with bipartisan support. Dellums and
the Congressional Black Caucus (CBC), though disappointed, agreed to
the compromise. They understood that pushing through the Senate’s
version, even if watered down, was a necessary step toward legislative
victory. Compromise, they believed, would still move the needle
against apartheid.

The compromise was bitter. Dellums’s vision for sweeping sanctions
was reduced, but he and his allies saw the writing on the wall—this
was the only path forward. The Senate bill would restrict new
investments and impose limited trade sanctions, a far cry from
Dellums’s radical call for total divestment. But in Washington,
compromise often means sacrificing ideals for incremental progress.
Dellums accepted that enacting imperfect legislation was better than
holding out for a purer, doomed alternative, and he ensured that key
provisions—such as bans on nuclear and computer technology
transfers—were integrated into the final legislation.

In the end, the strategy worked. President Reagan’s veto of the bill
was overridden by a Republican-controlled Senate—a stunning defeat
for the administration. Dellums had introduced the first sanctions
bill in 1971, and after nearly two decades of struggle, he witnessed a
historic turning point. While the final bill did not live up to his
full vision, it marked a profound moral and political victory in the
fight against apartheid. The balance between radicalism and compromise
had paid off.

And Dellums wasn’t done. In 1988, he presented a revised sanctions
bill, which gained significant support from the House Foreign
Relations Committee despite fierce opposition from Republicans and
business interests. The bill mandated US corporations to divest from
South Africa and imposed a ban on both direct and indirect trade,
marking a sharp escalation in US opposition to apartheid. While
critics, including Lugar, called the bill too radical, Democrats
rallied behind it, with the House passing it in August. Dellums
received a standing ovation for his impassioned speech, cementing his
role as a leading voice in the anti-apartheid movement.

Just as Reagan’s constructive engagement was rooted in Cold War
fears, today’s US foreign policy in the Middle East is shaped by
concerns over Iran and China. Much like the anti-apartheid movement
had to challenge the DC political establishment’s narrative that
apartheid was necessary for Cold War stability, today’s Palestinian
rights movement faces the task of dismantling the assumption that
unconditional US support for Israel is required to counterbalance Iran
and China. By doing what the anti-apartheid movement did, and
reframing the issue as one of human rights and in the self-interest of
US national security concerns, Palestinian human rights advocates can
challenge the status quo and push for a more just US foreign policy.

Apartheid in South Africa and Israel’s military rule over
Palestinians aren’t identical. Unlike its role in the devastation of
Gaza, the United States didn’t back a massive assault on Black South
Africans with military aid. Plus, the end of Jim Crow in the US
fostered sympathy for South Africa’s struggle, especially among a
key Democratic voting bloc and the Congressional Black Caucus. Yet,
the lesson remains: Protests alone don’t shift US foreign policy. It
takes strategic legislative moves, coalition building, and inside
engagement. The Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Act evinced more than
moral clarity—it came from years of pressure, careful planning, and
political maneuvering. The anti-war and Palestinian rights movements
can draw from these strategies to reshape US policy on Israel.

_WALEED SHAHID [[link removed]] IS
THE DIRECTOR OF THE BLOC [[link removed]] AND THE FORMER
SPOKESPERSON FOR JUSTICE DEMOCRATS. HE HAS SERVED AS A SENIOR ADVISER
FOR THE UNCOMMITTED CAMPAIGN, ALEXANDRIA OCASIO-CORTEZ, AND JAMAAL
BOWMAN. HE IS A MEMBER OF THE NATION’S EDITORIAL BOARD._

_Copyright c 2024 The Nation. Reprinted with permission. May not be
reprinted without permission
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* Palestine solidarity
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* Anti-apartheid
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* Ron Dellums
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