Subscribe to our Newsletter


click to dowload our latest edition

The murder of Ashley Kriel

Published

on

OP-EDS

Forensic investigator David Klatzow, who for three decades campaigned to reopen the investigation into the death of anti-apartheid activist Ashley Kriel in 1987, welcomes the news that the case is being reinvestigated. He gives his opinion.

There were many crimes committed by the police in the 1980s which cry out for justice. Some made it into the headlines, but none resulted in the prosecution of the policemen who committed these crimes. Not even in the case of Steve Biko were the police sanctioned for his death. It took years to get Biko’s doctors Benjamin Tucker and Ivor Lang to be censured by the deeply apartheid medical council.

The case of Ashley Kriel is no exception to this toxic and melancholy state of affairs. Ashley was an effective political organiser in the Cape, and his activities brought him to the attention of the security police. He was a wanted man.

One day in 1987, the police received information that Kriel was hiding in a house in Athlone, and they sent Sergeant Anthony Abels and Warrant Officer Jeff Benzien to survey the house, but not to take any further action. Disobeying their orders, they knocked at the door, and when Kriel opened it, a struggle allegedly ensued.

During that struggle, according to the police, Kriel produced a firearm and, in the process of subduing him, a shot was discharged and Kriel was fatally wounded. So much for the police version.

I gave evidence at the inquest. On the bench was inquest Magistrate G Hoffman and sitting as an assessor was Theo Schwër, who was the head of forensic medicine at Stellenbosch.

Crucial to the case was the fact that there appeared to be a contact wound on Ashley’s back just alongside his shoulder blade. However, there was also a hole in the tracksuit top he was wearing. Herein lay the problem. The hole in the clothing was small, about three millimetres. Tests done by me with the same weapon and the same type of clothing using a dead pig as a backdrop, produced a significantly larger hole, about 30 millimetres in size.

Thus, the hole in the clothing didn’t match up with the alleged contact shot that was central to the police version. The police brought in their ballistics “expert”, one Willie Visser, who essentially found that a contact shot with pig skin as a backdrop produced the massive hole. This was no problem for Visser. He went about manipulating his results until, by using a sandbag as a backdrop, he could achieve the size hole in the clothing that he desired.

My comment to the court was that the only thing that this proved was that the deceased was a sandbag – the so-called reductio ad absurdum argument (a method to disprove an argument by illustrating how it leads to absurd consequences). The state pathologist, the late Deon Knobel, was no better. He performed equally fatuous and scientifically illiterate experiments to prove the police version.

What actually happened was that Kriel was shot from some distance away and Benzien, realising that this would be difficult to explain, pulled up Kriel’s tracksuit top and fired a second shot through the same entrance wound. This is the only explanation which can explain the discrepancy in the bullet-hole size in the tracksuit.

Of great sadness to me was the assessor. He should have known better. He sat through this parade of scientific nonsense without raising a question.

The failure to act fairly and to see to it that justice was administered will stand for evermore against the name of Theo Schwër, and rightly so. The magistrate, Hoffman, was typical of the apartheid apparatchiks who were all too common on the bench at the time.

Thus, the take-home message of this whole parody of an inquest was that Ashley Kriel was murdered by Benzien and Abel, and the justice system let him down.

The application by Benzien at the amnesty hearings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission was similarly a travesty as far as the truth was concerned. The person who represented the family never thought to properly prepare any cross examination for Benzien.

The result was that Benzien continued with his false narrative, and got away with it again. That lawyer now inhabits the Cape Bench.

The climate of our courts has changed, and the re-opening if the Ahmed Timol inquest and the inquest into the death of Dr Neil Aggett have set the scene for more investigation to find the truth and punish the wrongdoers. It would be a good example to set for the current crew of corrupt policemen.

  • David Klatzow was one of South Africa’s first private forensic scientists and was involved in most of the high profile cases of the 80s and early 90s, including the Helderberg plane crash, the attempted murder of Dr Frank Chikane and the murder of the Gugulethu 7.

Continue Reading
Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

OP-EDS

How to create room to breathe while being constricted

Published

on

There is no doubt that our community and wider country are starting 2021 in a meitzar, a narrow place, filled with fear and anxiety. Caught in a second wave which we hoped would never come, we are waiting with trepidation for schools to start, for numbers to drop, for vaccines to arrive. Would it help us to reflect that in Parshat Vayeira this week, we find the Israelites caught in their narrow place, the slavery of Egypt, Mitzrayim!

While the parsha this week describes the unfolding of the larger-scale events of the plagues, it opens with insight into the state of mind of “the people”, b’nei Yisrael. Hashem asks Moshe to reassure enslaved people by telling them that He has heard their cries, and is going to save them. The people will be taken out of Mitzrayim, and will be allowed to pursue their destiny. Moshe brings this message of comfort and hope to the people. And we are told, “The people of Israel would not listen to Moses, from shortness of breath and cruel bondage. (Ex, ch. 6, v 9).” Commenting on the words “they would not listen”, Rashi creates an equivalence between “to listen” and “to receive”, saying, lo kiblu tanchumin (the people weren’t able to receive words of comfort). It’s a deep place of despair where a person isn’t able to receive words of soothing and hope.

What stopped people from being able to be comforted? The avodah kashah describes the cruel bondage of slavery in which our people’s individual liberties and freedom were removed. Indeed, it may feel as if there is little agency or room to move when large forces of power are manipulating one’s life, such as in a pandemic.

However, we are also told that the people weren’t able to listen because of kotzer ru’ach (shortness of breath). The Midrash Aggadah plays on the words kotzer ru’ach, and claims that the people were “short on spirit” meaning emunah, and thus became involved in idol worship.

The Sefat Emet makes a startling interpretation of this midrash, suggesting that the Israelites weren’t actually worshipping idols, but rather were so distanced from themselves and filled with the vanities of the world that they had no inner space to receive this message of hope. Rashi observes that both Mitzrayim and kotzer contain the root “tzar”. He links the two, saying anyone who is in constriction (meitzar), will experience shortness (katzar) of breath. We might understand Rashi’s meitzar or constriction as anxiety, a state of constriction that freezes a person, conjuring up Edvard Munch’s terror-laden image of The Scream. When we are put under undue stress and pressure, we lose our capacity to take deep, long breaths. Thus, two factors prevent the people from receiving Moshe’s tanchumim: external factors linked to oppression and enslavement (avodah kashah); and an inner state of mind linked to alienation, distancing from G-d, and distressing anxiety (kotzer ru’ach).

Like b’nei Yisrael, we find ourselves caught in the powerful currents of history, political power-plays, pandemics, and all sorts of circumstances over which we have very little control. This is our avodah kashah, the larger forces which play out across our world. However, according to the parsha, our constriction and redemption depend not only on external factors but also on the way in which we work with our own kotzer ru’ach. As we begin 2021 gripped by second waves of COVID-19 in many parts of the world, we might be inclined to feel hopeless. This can lead to filling our minds and hearts with pessimism, negative projections onto the year, and anticipatory anxieties about what will be. If our mind is filled with kotzer ru’ach, it won’t have the emptiness to be open to receive the whispers and ripples of hope when they come our way.

In the words of the Sefat Emet, “Hearing requires being empty of everything so that we can hear the voice of G-d.” In times like these, if we are sufficiently attuned, we might be able to receive comfort, connect to feelings of hope, or even feel moments of faith and upliftment. These moments may come as calm, as perspective, as wisdom, as kindness, in the form of poetry, Torah learning, or prayer. Perhaps, quite simply, we will feel less constricted by “shortness of breath”, and more open to neshimah, breath, and expansiveness.

This is a hard time in our world, but we have a tradition of people going through very difficult times and being redeemed from them. We learn from b’nei Yisrael that any redemption requires waiting and is subject to forces beyond our control. However, we aren’t mere victims of circumstance. By working to heal our kotzer ru’ach, we create room for agency in our own narrow places. It might even be that our expanded ability to receive can help usher in the larger-scale transformation and redemption for which we hope and pray.

  • Adina Roth is a Jewish educator at B’tocham Education, and a clinical psychologist in private practice in Johannesburg. She is studying online at Yeshivat Maharat in New York.

Continue Reading

OP-EDS

Second wave like a tsunami

Published

on

We have emerged from the eye of the storm to confront a second wave that is significantly worse than we anticipated. It feels like a tsunami.

Once again, SARS CoV2 has proven to be unpredictable, and has mutated to a new strain which is more contagious, involves a higher number of people, and is less discriminating. We have easily slid back into our roles in a well-remembered dance.

Once again, we are working long hours and spending a lot of time on our feet. Stress levels are very high again, and there is a constant feeling of anxiety as one waits for the next crisis.

Last time, the patients were older, and it was easier to be more philosophical in accepting their deaths. In a complete deviation from pattern, this wave of COVID-19 has affected younger people to a much greater extent. They are often younger than us, and we all know a lot of people who have COVID-19.

As with the first wave, there are more men in hospital than women, with 60% of the patients being male and 40% female. This time, however, all population groups seem to be represented.

When looking at intensive-care units (ICUs), which are a critical resource under huge pressure, it’s startlingly obvious that not only have we had to accommodate more patients in ICU, but that they are significantly younger and much sicker this time. Fifty percent of the ICU cohort are under the age of 60, and 80% are on more than usual oxygen therapy.

Our ICU is full, and we are using all our ventilators for one form of ventilatory support or another. It is a surreal experience to look around and see the vast majority of our patients with masks of various shapes and sizes strapped tightly to their faces in an attempt to keep their blood oxygen levels adequate. It’s difficult to communicate, and all one sees are the eyes looking at you with fear, anxiety, distress, and sometimes calm acceptance.

The mood is sombre, and there’s little humour this time around. Patients with comorbidities still raise a red flag in that they are more likely to have severe COVID-19 with a higher mortality rate, but this time around, there are significant numbers of young, fit, healthy individuals with no comorbidities who are desperately ill. The staff are more fearful because of this. After all, you can’t allay your anxiety by listing the patient’s comorbidities which have resulted in severe COVID-19 if there are none.

Another unique feature is the number of young individuals presenting with severe cardiac disease that has proven to be rapidly fatal. There are also a few confirmed cases of reinfection now, some far more severe than the initial episode of COVID-19.

In addition, we are called for far more acute deteriorations in clinical condition, and seem to be running to many more resuscitations than we ever dreamt we would be. Often, patients have young families, and a desperate desire to live for their children.

There is definitely a higher number of patients who require mechanical ventilation and as such, there is enormous pressure on ICU beds. We are contacted on a daily basis by hospitals looking for ICU beds for young patients with severe COVID-19 pneumonia.

It’s not only the beds that are under pressure, but the units are often understaffed as the healthcare workers contract COVID-19 themselves or simply burn out.

This past weekend, I was told of a physician who contracted COVID-19 and landed up on a ventilator in his own unit and was cared for by his friend and colleague. This is all very hard to deal with.

The fact that many of the patients in hospital are well into the pulmonary phase with significant inflammatory changes in their lungs means that it’s a juggling act, with ICU beds being filled as soon as they are emptied and patients yo-yoing between ICU and the wards, and back to ICU.

There are times when ambulances wait patiently to offload their patients while space is made in emergency, or they are diverted to another hospital.

We are aware of private hospitals which have actually run out of oxygen for a time period. We are aware of hospitals in which they have started using anaesthetic machines to ventilate patients in their theatres.

We have seen photos from a hospital in Gauteng which has set up tents in its parking lot to treat patients with COVID-19.

Resources are limited, and a strict criteria for ICU admission will have to be implemented, a task we are dreading.

In the meantime, as we deal with this unprecedented surge in numbers, elective surgery has been cancelled and, other than COVID-19 cases, we are admitting emergencies only. People are scared to come to hospital and as such, are waiting until they can’t wait anymore, being admitted in extreme conditions.

Our physical discomfort is worse with long hours in personal protective equipment in the summer heat with no air conditioning in the wards. Our fingers are cracking open again, and the emotional toll is huge.

This past weekend, we witnessed the compassion with which our staff cared for a patient with Down’s Syndrome and how happy they were when it seemed that she would survive. We have taken wives to say goodbye to their husbands who are dying of COVID-19. We had to tell five patients that their parent/spouse had died of COVID-19 while they were lying in a hospital bed. I also had to call a lady who was isolating at home with COVID-19 to inform her that her husband had passed away on their 56th wedding anniversary. We also celebrated two birthdays here.

We are familiar with the vagaries of this disease, and write the treatment charts by rote, monitoring individuals intensively. We make therapeutic adjustments according to various clinical and blood parameters, desperate to prevent severe pneumonia or the cytokine storm.

We feel enormous relief if it looks as if the inflammatory process is reversing. And yet, in spite of all the knowledge gained over the past few months, there are patients who you know cannot pull through. At those times, kindness and compassion are all we can offer.

The stories are familiar. A minority of our patients (often the elderly) contracted COVID-19 through no fault of their own. But the vast majority know exactly where they picked it up – a dinner party, a function, on holiday, at a picnic, in a friend’s home, etc. The equation is simple to me: socialising without respecting the COVID-19 rules of social engagement = COVID-19 (for yourself or some unlucky individual that you come into contact with).

If you’re lucky, you get away lightly, and if you’re unlucky, you become critically ill (with the attendant risk of dying) or you develop long COVID-19 or one of the unusual late complications.

It’s going to get a lot worse, and we are going to run out of hospital beds, medication, and potentially oxygen. There’s no magic cure, and the vaccine is on the horizon. It behoves everyone to be respectful of COVID-19 and behave responsibly, respecting the sanctity of life.

  • Dr Carron Zinman is a pulmonologist at the Linksfield Clinic.

Continue Reading

OP-EDS

Why it must be cool to be a Jew on campus

Published

on

My first year at the University of the Witwatersrand was in 2017 and it was a strange year.

There was no Jewish establishment. Each student came with a radically different background and perspective, almost none of them had ever met a Jew, seen a Jew, or even heard of a Jew. But many had heard of “apartheid in Israel”.

I remember how 500 people filled the lecture hall. There I was, a naïve 18-year-old Jewish guy sitting with my new Muslim friends. The professor was running 15 minutes late. We were all chatting until one girl, Akeela, came to the topic of Israel, and that’s when things start getting heated. With a slight hiss in her voice she whispered, “You’re not a Zionist, are you?”

Shocked and intimidated, I looked away and didn’t know what to say. She pressed me, and repeated “Are you?” Without thinking, I quickly mumbled ”no” just as the lecturer walked in and began the class. I begin questioning who I was, and what I believed.

I can tell you countless stories of antisemitic/anti-Israel attacks, but this vignette sums up what Jews are dealing with on campus in some shape or form. Students feel unsafe to express themselves. There is no sense of pride in being a Jew, only fear or even shame. Like a friend of mine in her Philosophy 101 module who was literally laughed out of the class when she said, “Of course I believe in G-d! I’m a Jew”.

Internationally, Jewish students and their leaders are insecure about what they stand for, be it their unique cultural values or their indigenous homeland. At every corner, there is external pressure, which has created a deep sense of doubt about who we are and what we represent.

Throughout the Book of Kings, the g-d Ba’al plays the foil of the Jewish nation. King after king, they each fall to this Ba’al. It’s like a cycle. A new king of Shomron (modern-day Samaria) takes over, he is fair and good, next he gets too close to Ba’al, and loses everything. His throne, friends, family, and eventually his life. Out of the 19 rulers of Shomron, this sequence happens a lot. What does this mean?

The simple understanding is that the leaders at that time were serving the idol Ba’al. But our sages saw a more relatable message, and explain that translated literally, the name Ba’al means master. So the problem was that those generations were allowing a Ba’al-master, in other words a force other than their own internal set of ethical guidelines, to dictate their actions. Or it could be thought of as external pressure – this “master” was forcing a foreign lifestyle on the kings.

It was only when the leaders of the time rejected the false g-d and embraced their natural moral compass that they succeeded in ruling.

A similar idea might be applied today. It’s unpopular to be a Jew/Zionist. It’s hard to stand your ground when the world is blaming and shaming you. And it’s easy to give in to all the negative rhetoric which is thrown at you. But we cannot compromise our moral and ethical high ground to please the external pressures of pop culture.

We must fortify ourselves by embracing what makes us unique – our Jewish heritage. Students shouldn’t feel ashamed to say they are a Zionist or believe in G-d. We should be confident in who we are and what we represent.

We must empower the global student community by reminding it that it’s cool to be a Jew and do Jewish things, to stand out as a proud member of our supernatural nation.

That’s a future worth fighting for.

There couldn’t have been a better place for this work than the 47th annual World Union of Jewish Student (WUJS) Congress that took place in the last week of December as we said goodbye to 2020. No flights necessary, no headaches or hotels, we simply signed up on the website and were amazed by the inspiring sessions, broad networking capability, and a fair dose of fun. WUJS Congress 2020 – “inside your home & outside the box”.

  • Shimshon Fisher is the vice president of the South African Union of Jewish Students.

Continue Reading

Trending