The years he spent in
the belly of the apartheid beast deepened his compassion and capacity for
empathy
Desmond Tutu Guardian/UK 8 December 2013
Never before in history was one human being so universally
acknowledged in his lifetime as the embodiment of magnanimity and
reconciliation as Nelson Mandela was. He set aside the bitterness of enduring 27
years in apartheid prisons – and the weight of centuries of colonial division,
subjugation and repression – to personify the spirit and practice of Ubuntu. He
perfectly understood that people are dependent on other people in order for
individuals and society to prosper. That
was his dream for South Africa and the hope that
he represented the world over. If it was possible in South Africa, it was
possible in Ireland, it was possible in Bosnia and Rwanda, it was possible in
Colombia. It is possible in Israel and Palestine.
In
the spirit of Ubuntu, Madiba was quick to point out that he alone could not
take credit for the many accolades that came his way; that he was surrounded by
people of integrity who were brighter and more youthful than himself. That is
only partially true. The truth is that
the 27 years Madiba spent in the belly of the apartheid beast deepened his
compassion and capacity to empathise with others. On top of the lessons about
leadership and culture to which he was exposed growing up, and the experiences
of developing a voice for young people in anti-apartheid politics, and
physically prosecuting the struggle – prison seemed to add an understanding of
the human condition.
He embodied what he proclaimed – he walked the talk. He
invited his former jailer to attend his presidential inauguration as a VIP
guest and he invited the man who led the state's case against him at the Rivonia trial, calling for the imposition of the death
penalty, to lunch at the presidency. He visited the widow of the high priest of
apartheid, Mrs Betsy Verwoerd, in the white Afrikaner-only enclave of Orania.
He had a unique flair for spectacular, hugely symbolic acts of human greatness
that would be gauche carried out by most others. Who will forget the
electrifying moment in the 1995 rugby World Cup final when he stepped out on the
Ellis Park pitch with captain Francois Pienaar's No 6 on the Springbok jersey
he was wearing? It was a gesture that
did more for nation building and reconciliation than any number of preacher's
sermons or politician's speeches.
When th Truth and
Reconciliation Commission published its findings, some of which
the ANC strongly opposed, Madiba had the grace to accept the report publicly.
Another example was the establishment of South Africa's first rural Aids
treatment site, by his foundation, at a time when the South African government
was dithering and obfuscating in response to the pandemic.
When
one of the TRC commissioners was accused in an amnesty hearing of being
involved in the case before the commission, President Mandela appointed a
judicial commission to investigate. Later, the president's secretary called me
to get the contact details of the commissioner. I realised that the president
wanted to put him at ease, but I told the secretary that as the chairperson of
the commission I should know the findings of the judicial commission first.
Within minutes, the president himself was on the line saying: "Yes, Mpilo,
you're quite right. I'm sorry." Politicians find it almost impossible to
apologise. Only truly great persons apologise easily; they are not insecure.
Can you imagine what would have happened to us had Nelson Mandela emerged
from prison in 1990 bristling with resentment at the gross miscarriage of
justice that had occurred in the Rivonia trial? Can you imagine where South
Africa would be today had he been consumed by a lust for revenge, to want to
pay back for all the humiliations and all the agony that he and his people had
suffered at the hands of their white oppressors? Instead, the world was amazed
by the unexpectedly peaceful transition of 1994, followed not by an orgy of
revenge but by the wonder of forgiveness and reconciliation epitomised in the
processes of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Was
he a saint? Not if a saint is entirely flawless. I believe he was saintly
because he inspired others powerfully and revealed in his character,
transparently, many of God's attributes of goodness: compassion, concern for others,
desire for peace, forgiveness and reconciliation. Thank God for this remarkable
gift to South Africa and the world.
May
he rest in peace and rise in glory.
Desmond
Tutu is an archbishop emeritus and human rights activist
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