Unrest In Mandela's Ranks

For years, they were the guerrillas who fought against apartheid in the military wing of the African National Congress. Then apartheid collapsed, and the soldiers of Umkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation) were supposed to be integrated into South Africa's regular armed forces. But last week, for the second time in a month, thousands of them went absent without leave from an army base north of Pretoria. Some handed in their recently issued equipment and ID cards. Others told their superiors they were going ""shopping'' in the capital. By the end of the week, about 5,000 soldiers of the MK, as the guerrilla army is known for short, were still absent, nursing grievances that ranged from bad food to charges of racism in the predominantly white high command. ""We feel like second-class soldiers,'' complained a 19-year-old recruit.

The MK deserters are part of a larger problem facing the six-month-old government of President Nelson Mandela. His biggest challenge so far has not come from enemies of long standing, such as right-wing whites or his political opponents in the mainly Zulu Inkatha Freedom Party. Instead, it is Mandela's own supporters who are giving him trouble. They want jobs and housing, and they have been stirred up, in part, by Mandela's own promises of quicker results than he has been able to deliver. Trade unions that nominally support his ANC are stepping up strike activity across the country. In black townships, neighborhood ""self defense'' units are refusing to disband and hand in their AK-47 assault rifles. Tenants of state-owned housing who gladly withheld their rent during the apartheid era still refuse to pay in the new South Africa. ""Who are they really knocking?'' asks Housing Minister Joe Slovo. ""Apartheid is history. I'll tell you who they are knocking -- Nelson Mandela.''

After the first walkout, in early October, Mandela, who commanded the MK at the time of his arrest and imprisonment in 1962, tried to crack down, warning his former comrades that further insubordination would lead to dismissal. ""I am determined to get discipline and respect for authority,'' he said during a visit to the base at Wallmannsthal. About 200 absentees refused to come back and were thrown out of the army. The others returned, but they stayed just long enough to collect their $210 monthly pay before going AWOL again.

As guerrilla armies go, Umkhonto we Sizwe was a ragtag outfit that never posed a serious threat to the white minority regime in Pretoria during its 29-year armed struggle. That campaign officially ended in 1990. Under the interim constitution that took effect last year, about 22,000 MK cadres are to be absorbed into the 90,000-strong South African National Defense Force. Some MK officers have been given high rank in the armed forces; the former chief of staff, Siphiwe Nyanda, is now a lieutenant general.

But the integration process never went smoothly. Mandela chose an ineffectual crony, MK commander Joe Modise, to become defense minister. MK veterans charged that the terms for their absorption into the army were set by the still overwhelmingly white top brass. They complained about unequal pay and poor medical facilities. At least some of the gripes seem to have been justified; a preliminary report by Parliament's defense committee described living conditions at Wallmannsthal as ""appalling'' and charged that racial discrimination was rife at the base. Mandela himself told former MK soldiers at the base last month that it ""will take years'' to address their grievances. ""We have in the military the same problem that we have in the broader society,'' says analyst Jakkie Cilliers of the Johannesburg-based Institute for Defense Policy. ""It is a culture of entitlement, of people feeling they should get a payback.'' The feeling is understandable, but Mandela knows that it is no way to run an army.