Joe Dwyer (who runs Sinn Fein’s London office) reviews Bob Newland’s Wherever the Struggle Is: A life of international solidarity.
For thirty-five years, Bob Newland did not speak about his direct involvement in South Africa’s anti-apartheid struggle in the early 1970s. As he acknowledges himself, keeping such a significant experience secret was a heavy burden to carry. It was, however, fundamental to the safety of others engaged in such revolutionary activity.
This picture of Stephen Biko (standing) and SALO’s chairperson Bishop Rubin Phillip (far right) was taken in 1971 at the Alan Taylor Residence hall in Durban.
It is welcome that Newland is finally receiving the space to tell his own part—in his own words. The final product, Wherever the Struggle Is: a life of international solidarity, is a humble—and honest—summation of a life in struggle. Nonetheless, his is an example that is every bit as admirable and commendable as those who later went on to occupy high office and receive international acclaim.
At the age of just twenty-one, Newland was recruited by Ronnie Kasrils, the celebrated anti-apartheid guerrilla commander, to carry out clandestine activity in support of the ANC and its military-wing Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK). He would become one of sixty so-called ‘London Recruits’, a group of young, mostly white, volunteers recruited from London’s communist and socialist networks. A collection of individuals personally selected to carry-out dangerous undercover operations, often behind enemy lines in apartheid South Africa.
Newland credits his enlistment to a combination of the naivety and the courage of youth. Indeed, before departing for Johannesburg, the young communist activist had never even stayed in a hotel room, let alone navigated international travel.
The younger Newland was part of an operation to detonate ‘leaflet bombs’ beneath the nose of the apartheid regime. These devices, conceived by the MK’s Ronnie Press, succeeded in providing a harmless but effective means of spreading the ANC’s message to ordinary black South Africans.
Once exploded, the devices would disperse thousands of leaflets, printed on airmail paper, upwards of sixty feet into the air, leaving anti-apartheid propaganda scattered and strewn across a considerable distance.
The leaflets—smuggled into the country by Newland and other British comrades in false bottomed suitcases—carried messages from ANC activists urging resistance and reporting news that the authorities sought to suppress. In Newland’s words, such ‘leaflet bombs’ provided proof to ordinary black South Africans that the ANC was ‘alive and kicking’, providing hope that the struggle against apartheid was ultimately winning. Although he did not know it at the time, Newland was part of a wider military-operation that saw the coordinated detonation of eleven such devices across five cities.
Such action was not without its own risks. Possession of such leaflets could lead to up to five years’ imprisonment and, besides this, Newland was left in little doubt that if captured he would likely be tortured at the hands of South Africa’s state forces.
A twenty-one-year-old’s psychological preparation for such capture is among the most sobering parts of the older Newland’s reflections. But, despite his fear, he was not deterred. Indeed, Newland would later return to active service in South Africa to lead a reception party for a landing vessel of guerrilla fighters off the South African coast.
As a memoir, Bob Newland provided good company over the Easter break. His writing style is charming and conversational. His account of himself and his actions are modest but wholly political. As Peter Hain writes in his foreword: ‘I have a steadfast image of him at the back of meetings, helping out in whatever way necessary, never seeking platform, nor concerned about self-promotion—always putting the cause he was supporting first.’ This shines through in Newland’s own words.
The author is quick to credit those who guided and helped to form his worldview. From his grandmother, to his head teacher, to a friendly Liberal councillor, to the chair of his local Communist Party branch. He provides ample space to those who mentored his politics, including Don O’Hanrahan, Jimmy Jancovich, and Ronnie Kasrils himself. In this respect, his is a very selfless memoir. While Newland is the lynchpin of his own story, he does not seek centre stage. He acknowledges and underscores throughout his account that the main brunt of the anti-apartheid struggle was borne by the people of South Africa, first and foremost.
Nonetheless, even beyond his covert anti-apartheid activities, his is a life of political struggle. As a self-confessed mod/hippy/communist in his youth, he discovered more reward in intergenerational dialogue than performative youth revolt. Upon joining the British Communist Party, he discovered a world totally at odds with his stifling grammar school. He reflects: ‘in all the different meetings and discussions, I was treated as an adult. My views were often challenged but were always received with respect.’
Student politics, including a brief foray with the Angry Brigade, rapidly brought him into the wider world of international politics. His becomes a story of lively political meetings, shared-out bottles of red wine, and late-night debates. In an era when it is easy to be radical in front of a computer screen, Newland reminds the reader of the importance of study groups, branch meetings, and steering committees. The necessity of political organising.
Over time, the intrusion of state surveillance, the realities of individual exhaustion and frailties, and the broader ideological schisms of international communism in the late-1980s and early-1990s, each take their toll on Newland’s personal activism. But as he eruditely concludes: ‘real activism is neither neat nor easy.’
For Irish readers, Newland’s support for a united Ireland is commendable. A visit to Letterkenny in his youth converted him to the cause of Irish republicanism and brought him to recognise the legitimacy of the IRA’s war of liberation. Later in life, an older Newland encounters Martin McGuinness outside the General Post Office in Dublin, during the 1916 Easter Centenary Commemoration. In his account of the meeting with the republican leader, he ably captures the relaxed nature of Martin’s genuine smile and warm handshake. The encounter leads him to reflect on the interconnectedness of political struggle, as he details the cooperation that existed between MK and the IRA, and Sinn Féin and the ANC. As he notes: ‘I believe that transitioning from armed struggle to political engagement can be highly effective. Other movements might learn that while armed resistance can be a catalyst, lasting change often requires political participation.’
Bob with the late Martin McGuinness
In summing up his contribution to the anti-apartheid struggle, Newland writes: ‘It’s important to stress that our contribution, which we discovered much later was critical, was nevertheless a small one. The vast majority of us did our bit, came home, and got on with our lives.’
It is a universal truth that genuine political change only ever comes about due to the incremental work and sacrifice of those willing to ‘do their bit’. Such work is often carried out behind the scenes, over many years, away from the speaker’s podium or media glare. It comes with little fanfare or favour. But it is nonetheless vital because such sacrifice is the ultimate cost of final victory. As Bobby Sands once put it: ‘Everyone, republican or otherwise has their own particular part to play. No part is too great or too small, no one is too old or too young to do something.’
Bob Newland is a testament to that truth.