Tribute from Peter Cruse

A Celebration of the Life and Legacy
of Professor JP van Niekerk
A man who was both witty and wise, and who was unafraid to think and act differently.

It is a privilege and with sadness that I speak of JP, the man who stood at the heart of South African medicine and of this Probus Club. JP served as a leader of SA’s medical profession, he was the conscience of its SA’s medical ethics, he challenged its norms and politics without fear. JP always made time for others and for many good causes; and yet he still somehow found time to captain squash teams, to run marathons, lead hikes up  mountains, and to raise a family with love, kindness, and humour,

Today, our hearts and our condolences go out to his beloved wife, Annette, and to his two sons, Gerrie and Jo. 

JP’s early life was shaped by movement. Born into a family which was frequently transferred by the Land Bank, his schooling traced the geography—and the contradictions—of South Africa itself. He skipped grades, he switched languages, and, characteristically, he drew lasting conclusions from these experiences: that racial classification was absurd, and that bilingualism widened one’s view of the world—or at the very least, improved one’s chances in a good argument.

Though small in stature, the young rugby-playing, marathon-running, squash-playing gymnastics-half-blue possessed an outsized courage. From resisting segregationist church student groups at UCT to marching on Parliament against racially discriminatory university legislation, JP showed from an early age that he would not be told where to sit, whom to accept, or how to think.

In Welkom—where he intended to stay a year but remained for five—JP controversially opened South Africa’s first birth control clinic using the contraceptive pill. He publicly debated the Catholic Church’s moral adviser. “Abstinence is unnatural,” he famously remarked. “And the rhythm method doesn’t work.” It was his first encounter with national controversy in healthcare, but it would not be his last.

A brilliant diagnostician and an early advocate of interventional radiology, JP rose through the academic ranks to become Dean of the UCT Medical Faculty. He led during the turbulent decades of the 1980s and 1990s with humour, grit, and moral clarity. He helped reshape Groote Schuur Hospital into a non-racial institution before the law allowed it, and he championed admissions policies that opened the doors of medicine to black South Africans despite the devastation wrought by Bantu Education. His legacy at UCT and GSH remains in all the many centres of excellence that he helped to create -The UCT Private Academic hospital, The Sports science Institute of South Africa, The UCT Lung Institute, The Institute for Diabetes and Molecular Medicine and so on. You will not find his name engraved on any plaques on their walls, but JP was there to found, fund and drive them.

When others resigned from compromised Apartheid-era medical bodies in protest, JP chose a more difficult path: he stayed, and he subverted and transformed them from within. Where others whispered, he spoke out plainly. From confronting Adriaan Vlok over hunger strikers to demanding accountability from doctors implicated in the death of Steve Biko, JP consistently spoke truth to power—armed with evidence, principle, and an unmistakable edge of sarcasm.

As an editor of the South African Medical Journal, JP’s pen was as incisive as any scalpel. He cut through denialism, pseudoscience, and bureaucratic evasion with fearless clarity. His editorials on HIV/AIDS, political interference in medicine, drug policy, and assisted dying were uncompromising, often very funny, and always principled. The cartoons they inspired delighted him—it showed he had struck exactly the right nerve.

Yet behind the formidable intellect and sharp prose was a man of deep humanity. JP was a devoted leader, a teacher, a mentor, a loyal friend, and a committed family man. 

In sport, JP was relentless and strategic, reaching the national level in squash and captaining South Africa’s first veterans’ team. When his body eventually protested, he simply changed course—leading Saturday mountain hikes for more than thirty years. Even failing hips could not halt his forward motion, though they did, eventually, receive modern replacements.

Until the end of his life, JP continued to shape minds and values: through his work with St. Luke's in hospice care and for dying with dignity, his contribution to international medical education standards, his concern for penal reform in the prison system, his working for Ballet, for the Botanical Society, The Owl Club and Duncan has already outlined his invaluable contributions to Probus.

In JP’s world, laughter was never far away—but neither was principle. He embodied that rare combination of scientist and satirist, healer, and heretic, academic and activist, all expressed with a gentleman’s wit and an unyielding moral compass.

But if there is one quality which stood out, it was JP’s modesty. For example, I only found out last Friday, when Jo located a copy of JP’s CV, that JP had been promoted on academic merit to full professor at UCT , that he had earned an MD research degree and published over 130 peer-reviewed papers.

JP was intellectually very quick, witty, and humorous; he had a wicked, impish sense of humour as three quick personal anecdotes illustrated.

We thank you, JP, for your wisdom, for your courage, for your warmth, for your rebellious spirit, for your mentorship, and for your example of a life very well lived. You leave behind a legacy that will endure in the lives of the many people you taught, challenged, protected, and inspired.

You told Annette that you wanted to leave the world a better place. And you did, JP, by touching and improving the lives of countless people who loved and admired you. 

You may be gone JP,  but you will never be forgotten.

Prepared for Probus by Peter Cruse, 12th January 2026