South Africa and a toast to democracy

Not everything in the entire world is going to hell in a half-track. A few days ago, I tasted some South African wines. Although there are many reasons for a gloomy appraisal of South Africa’s prospects, wine is not among them. The industry is benefitting from new investment, encouraged by easier export markets made possible by political change.

Even under the previous dispensation, there were excellent vine-yards in the Cape, the product of a fruitful racial compact. When the Huguenot refugees arrived at Table Bay, they brought their oenophile lore and rapidly assimilated with the Dutch settlers who were already establishing themselves. The name Franschhoek survives, as do many French surnames, although the language largely disappeared. If only it had been as easy to bridge other South African divisions.

It helped that the 18th-century Cape was fertile and peaceful. Pauline Smith’s largely forgotten novel The Beadle evokes an almost pre-lapsarian way of life, with the generosity of nature allowing the locals a serene exemption from conflict and history.

That could only be temporary. But it enabled a wine industry to emerge, though latterly there was an interchange with politics, if only as a means of stimulating discussion.

The beautiful university town of Stellenbosch lies in the vinous heartland. I remember many evenings and many bottles in Stellenbosch gardens as we tried to foresee the route of change. Everyone agreed that it should be radical. The black population must have a full ration of human dignity, immediately. They must also have full rights in local government, immediately, and there should be as large a programme of educational uplift as the country could afford.

State power? Silence. My friends were in no way racialists.