a taste of justice

South African Supreme Court judge = Justice=20 Edwin Cameron stunned Africa when, five years ago, he publicly=20 disclosed he was living with Aids. PN caught up with this inspiring = activist at=20 the launch of his candid new book

Words David G=20 Taylor
Images Piers Allardyce

For three years you lived with your HIV = diagnosis=20 without confiding in anyone. What was that like professionally and=20 personally?
It was one of the worst periods of my life = because it=20 was a time of intense professional pressure. The time of the riots in = South=20 Africa in the late 80s was challenging and exhilarating, but quite = difficult. I=20 think most people who receive an HIV diagnosis even now experience a = terrible=20 shock and sense of personal depression and contamination. I always think = that=20 what it was for me then, in 1986, it still is for most Africans now: a = death=20 sentence, because treatment isn=92t fully available. It was a time of = intense=20 loneliness, isolation, almost a physiological depression; the worst = I=92ve had in=20 my life. Work was a kind of escape. I managed to stay functional through = it all=20 and just
suppress the HIV diagnosis.

In your book = Witness To=20 Aids you say you initially felt =93tainted, soiled and polluted=94 by = the virus. Do=20 you still feel that way?
Not at all, but I say that with = great=20 confidence years on. It=92s been a 20-year struggle. To get to the point = where you=20 truly believe that this is just a viral particle, and the fact that its = sexual=20 transmission is incidental, is very difficult. The notion of a sexually=20 transmitted disease still has great stigma attached. It isn=92t about = homosexual=20 transmission, because in Africa it=92s an overwhelmingly heterosexual = disease and=20 there=92s the same stigma. The turning point for me was the success of = treatment.=20 I knew within two weeks of starting that some physiological miracle was=20 happening. Once I knew the virus was suppressed, I felt totally = different about=20 my life and that=92s what gave me the courage to speak out. =

Was=20 there a particular catalyst which made you break your = silence?
The=20 trigger was the death of a young woman called Gugu Dlamini in a Durban = township.=20 She spoke publicly about her HIV status just before Christmas in 1998, = and was=20 killed for it. Members of her own community stoned and stabbed her to = death=20 because of her speaking out. I thought, =91I=92m living with the = professional and=20 middle-class protections, surrounded by caring friends and family, and = I=92m not=20 speaking, but this woman did=92. That=92s what compelled me to speak. I = also knew=20 that I had to confront the dichotomy of my life. I was well known in = Aids=20 circles as someone involved in Aids policy and human rights as a lawyer = and=20 later a judge, and yet I was also someone living with HIV. I hadn=92t = integrated=20 those two things, and speaking out enabled me to do = so.

Were=20 their repercussions in your professional life?
Not at all. I = was=20 greeted with an absolute deluge of affection, love and praise. People = still stop=20 me on the street. What=92s puzzling is that other people holding public = office in=20 South Africa haven=92t felt able to follow suit.

Why do = you think=20 your disclosure was so well received?
In South Africa more = than one=20 in ten of all people have Aids or HIV, and it=92s an
epidemic of = silence. Most=20 of us who went to Aids conferences in the late 80s and early 90s were = aware of=20 angry gay men from England, Western Europe and North America giving = voice to the=20 epidemic, but that hasn=92t been the case in South Africa. = Paradoxically, I was a=20 very atypical voice.
I was a judge, a white man and a gay man in an = epidemic=20 which overwhelmingly affects poor heterosexual woman and men in black = Africa.=20 Even though I was so atypical, people were looking for a voice, and I = think that=20 was part of the positive reaction.

Was it harder = disclosing your=20 status to family or going public to the nation?
The public=20 statement was unquestioningly the hardest, but family was very = difficult. It=92s=20 almost inconceivable as someone who=92s living openly with HIV to = re-imagine the=20 inhibition that you feel. One has to do it because those inhibitions are = life-threateningly real. As we speak, people in Africa feel that sense = of=20 terror, that sense of self-disentitlement, that sense of contamination. = I=92m very=20 close to my sister and I felt I couldn=92t talk to her about it for = three years. I=20 just couldn=92t. Most people, when I eventually told them, said: = =93Well, why didn=92t=20 you tell us earlier?=94 But part of the problem with being HIV positive = is there=20 are two dimensions to the stigma. One is the external dimension, the = fear of=20 discrimination which is very real, but I think the more important = dimension is=20 the internal: how bad you feel about yourself and within yourself. = That=92s what=20 makes it so difficult to talk to family.

In a country = where=20 millions do not have support from their family or employers, or even the = ability=20 to afford treatment, did you feel any guilt about your=20 position?
Yes, emphatically, and rightly so. In a world = skewed by=20 disproportion one should feel guilty about having so much more, often=20 grotesquely so. The question is not whether you feel guilt, but what you = do with=20 it. You can transmute it into positive action, and that=92s what I=92m = trying to do.=20 I think all of us who have relatively affluent lives have to ask = ourselves what=20 we=92re doing in relation to the guilt that we might feel about our=20
disproportionate privilege.
3D"Justice
The book mentions Aids-denialists = within the=20 South African government. Is that still the case?
We still = don=92t=20 have a heart-felt, single-voiced national response to the epidemic. = There still=20 seems to be some measure of ambivalence among some of the top structures = of=20 government. However, and this is the rosy side of things, about two = years ago=20 the government did commit itself to provision of antiretrovirals and = that=92s=20 happening. It=92s real, not just a bureaucrat=92s phantasm. So, while = the Minister=20 for Health still says things for which she=92s attacked by the media = which seem to=20 indicate ambivalence about Aids, public provision of antiretroviral = treatments=20 is happening on an increasingly large scale in South Africa and that=92s = the=20 important message.

But although there=92s free = treatment, many are=20 still not coming forward?
In my book I tell the story of a = man who=20 worked in my garden twice a week. He knew I was living with HIV, knew = that I=20 could help him get access to the drugs and that I=92d been saved by = them. I=20 suspected he had Aids, but he went back to his country of origin and = died. I=20 blame myself in the book for not being more interventionist in my = approach to=20 him. It=92s happening less because the social nature of the disease is = changing,=20 but it=92s still a profound problem throughout central and southern = Africa: that=20 people are unwilling to acknowledge their diagnosis.

Is = it simply=20 fear of stigma?
It=92s too easy to say it=92s stigma. There = is=20 discrimination and fear of discrimination. Women diagnosed with HIV do = get=20 thrown out of their homes; people still do lose their jobs, and = they=92re=20 disadvantaged. So there definitely is stigma. I think more important is = the=20 internal dimension. People with HIV feel a sense of self-disentitlement, = which=20 prevents them from seeking access to treatment, even when it=92s = available. That=20 has to be addressed as well.

=95 Witness To Aids, by Edwin = Cameron, is out=20 now (=A312.99, I.B. Tauris). Available from http://www.ibtauris.com/ and all good book=20 stores

bac= k to=20 contents - Issue 115

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