Nelson Mandela has died. A giant among men, he has left an indelible mark on human history. Madiba, as many call Mandela, is an inspiration to me. He was “prepared to die” for a “free society” and spent nearly 28 years in prison for his beliefs. Yet when he was unconditionally released from prison, he made peace with the very people who had taken away his liberty.

Those of us who were born in former European colonies have memories of our struggles for freedom seared into our souls. Just as Madiba heard the tales of “Dingane and Bambata, Hintsa and Makana, Squngthi and Dalasile, Moshoeshoe and Sekhukhuni,” fighting for their fatherland, I grew up with stories of the colonized who battled their masters and often lost their lives in the process. Madiba was spoken of in the same breath as Mahatma Gandhi.

Madiba continued the struggle that, as perhaps few know, Gandhi began in South Africa. Gandhi was thrown out of a train by a white ticket collector in Pietermaritzburg on June 7, 1893, for having the temerity to travel in a carriage meant only for whites. The Indian barrister spent the night shivering in the train station and proceeded to launch nonviolent civil resistance movements against the South African government for the next 22 years. It was in South Africa that Gandhi began the work of dismantling the British Empire, and it was here that Madiba finished the job by destroying its last vestige — apartheid.

Colonization was inhuman. Those who were conquered lost their land, liberty and lives. Their dignity and identity were taken away from them. Madiba was Mandela’s Xhosa clan name, by which his countrymen know him. During colonization, natives frequently lost their language as well and, with time, their narratives. Christian missionaries worked hard to civilize natives, giving them names like Nelson.

The so-called rule of law imposed by Europeans was, in reality, a system that institutionalized inequity and made people slaves in their own homes. Native institutions such as the Thembu court of village elders that Madiba referred to as “democracy in its purest form,” were ripped apart and replaced by rapacious bureaucracies characterized by oppression and corruption. Apartheid was the last surviving example of colonization.

The memories of colonization and the struggle for freedom ran strong in my family. Even as a child, I grew up listening to stories about Gandhi. The fact that he eschewed violence and office, dressed in a homespun loincloth and died a martyr at the hands of a fanatic made Gandhi an iconic figure for my father’s generation.

In fact, my father’s first memory as a child is the day Gandhi died. It was the first day he went hungry. His mother was too distraught to cook. He was two days short of his fourth birthday, and even then, he realized that something momentous had happened.

I grew up watching Madiba and reading not only about his great achievements but also about his mistakes. Now that he is dead at 95, it seems the end of an era, and I have struggled to pen down my thoughts.

The era of independence

After World War II, one colony after another gained independence. It began with India under Gandhi in 1947 and intensified after the Anglo-French 1956 misadventure. The French tried to cling to their colonies more tenaciously than the British. France failed to realize that just as it did not like living under German rule, Algeria and Vietnam might have similar aspirations for independence. Britain kept playing up close trade ties and the security provided by its control of the seas to keep the colonies loyal to the Queen.

Still, it proved less sentimental about cutting them loose and initiated a massive wave of decolonization. In February 1960, British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan gave a historic speech in Cape Town, South Africa, where he spoke about “the wind of change blowing through this continent.”As the 1960s saw a massive wave of decolonization, South Africa slipped into the pernicious system of apartheid, a system of racial segregation enforced through legislation by its white minority.

By this time, the free-market model had been discredited in former colonies. In the past, this model included the freedom to trade slaves and the subjugation of the non-white world. In truth, under colonial masters such as the British and the French, free markets were hardly free — or even markets at all.

The colonies had experienced this policy and were now seeking alternative economic systems to address their deep problems of poverty and inequality. Even if they did not embrace communism, they were attracted by leftist ideas because they wanted to create more egalitarian societies after years of deep inequity.

The US did not quite understand these aspirations across Latin America, Africa and Asia. In 1953, it overthrew the first democratically elected government of Iran on the behest of the British. Iranian Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddegh had wanted 50 cents on every dollar paid to the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company, the forerunner of BP. It was the same deal that Saudi Arabia had with the American company, Aramco, but the British wanted colonial-era exploitation to continue. By backing the British, the US established itself as the new imperial power that wanted freedom for white Europeans but enslavement for non-whites around the world.

In Africa, the US supported the interests of its imperial European allies. It backed the brutal British repression of the Mau Mau Revolt in Kenya. Over 1 million Kenyans were herded into detention camps known as Britain’s Gulag, and more than 100,000 of them died. The eight-year campaign of terror in the 1950s included beatings, torture and sexual abuse.

In the Congo, the US went further. In 1960, it actively connived with Belgium and the UK to engender the murder of Patrice Lumumba, the prime minister who had just led Congo to independence. Joseph Mobutu, the man whom the US backed, went on to rule Congo for over three decades, murdering his opponents, looting the country and establishing a personality cult that rivaled that of North Korea.

The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) of the US also went on to play a key role in the 1962 arrest of Madiba. Henceforth, many saw the US as a white supremacist power and the CIA as an organization specializing in murder, torture and coup d’états.

The free-market model the US had been touting was now morally tainted. Washington was simply perceived as old European wine in a new American bottle, and the vast majority of former colonies were unwilling to drink it.

Coming of age 

The young Madiba was coming of age in the 1940s. As the rest of the world seemed to be marching to freedom, South Africa was turning back the clock. After the 1948 election, in which only whites were allowed to vote, long-standing discrimination was expanded and codified into legislation, inaugurating the apartheid era.

Madiba threw himself into the struggle to overthrow apartheid and embraced Marxism, partly influenced by friends and partly because the Soviet Union was supporting wars of independence in Latin America, Africa and Asia.

The apartheid government cloaked its suppression of the black majority in the garb of an anticommunist struggle. The Suppression of Communism Act of 1950 led to the creation of a brutal police state where suppression became the norm.

In February 1955, Madiba participated in the protest that failed to prevent the demolition of the all-black Sophiatown suburb of Johannesburg. This proved to be a turning point. He declared that the African National Congress (ANC) “had no alternative to armed and violent resistance” because “the attacks of the wild beast cannot be averted with only bare hands.”

After the Sharpeville massacre on March 21, 1960, Madiba cofounded the ANC’s armed wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe, or “Spear of the Nation,” which began guerrilla attacks against the apartheid government. On August 5, 1962, he was captured. Madiba’s conduct during the trial that followed made him a hero. Instead of defending himself, he set out to make a case for the moral bankruptcy of apartheid.

On October 15, he turned up in traditional garb, a kaross made of leopard skin because, as he told his white legal adviser, “I want our people to see me as a black man in the white man’s court.” He did that and more. In the years to come, the subsequent Rivonia Trial, named after the farmhouse where a number of ANC leaders were apprehended, would stand as a symbol of injustice throughout the world.

Madiba’s closing speech in the Rivonia Trial questioned the legitimacy of the court that was sentencing him. The trial had attracted enormous international attention, which might be the reason why Madiba was not sentenced to death. Instead, he was imprisoned for life, but only after his speech exposed the toxic nature of apartheid. 

He pointed out the terrible human and moral cost of white supremacy. He gave a harrowing account of how black Africans were denied schooling, jobs, liberty, the right to buy land and fundamental human rights. He pointed out how whites had dehumanized blacks by treating them as an inferior race. He called for equal political rights and declared that he was ready to die to achieve “the ideal of democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities.”

On June 12, 1964, Madiba was sent off to prison. He spent the next 18 years as Prisoner 466/64 on Robben Island, a South African version of Alcatraz. On this cold and windy island, Madiba lived in a damp cell measuring eight by seven feet and slept on a straw mat. He suffered verbal and physical abuse. He was not allowed to use sunglasses in the lime quarry where prisoners were forced to break stones in blinding sunlight, permanently damaging his eyesight.

It was in prison that Madiba grew to greatness. He began the “University of Robben Island,” an informal school where prisoners lectured on their areas of expertise and debated contentious topics. He grew eggplants, tomatoes and strawberries.

Even in captivity, he continued to fight on. He insisted that prisoners be treated with dignity. He refused privileges that were not offered to fellow prisoners. He hated shorts but continued to wear them until other prisoners were allowed to wear trousers too.

It was at Robben Island that Madiba started learning Afrikaans in an effort to reach out to his captors and to win their respect. It was here that this hot-tempered former boxer learnt self-restraint and patience. Even when he was not allowed to attend the funerals of his mother and his firstborn son, he behaved with extraordinary dignity. In April 1982, he was transferred to Pollsmoor Prison, where he created a roof garden and shared what he grew with his prison warders.

As South Africa erupted in turmoil and international pressure mounted in February 1985, PW Botha, the apartheid leader known as “the crocodile,” offered to release Madiba if he renounced violence and other illegal activity. The offer was a ruse to discredit the ANC and paint it as a terrorist organization. Madiba rose to the occasion and asked Botha to renounce violence, dismantle apartheid and unban the ANC. He demanded freedom for the people and declared that he could not “sell the birthright of the people to be free.”

At Pollsmoor, Madiba contracted tuberculosis because of dank conditions. Whilst he was recovering, the government moved him to Victor Verster Prison in December 1988. By this time, negotiations had begun between Madiba and the government, which decided that he should be moved to a closer location. Finally, at 70, he had some comfort in the form of a warder’s cottage and a personal cook.

As the Cold War was ending and communism collapsed in Europe, apartheid started coming apart. After years of rebuffing Madiba, Botha invited him for tea. FW de Klerk, his successor, released all ANC prisoners except Madiba. When the Berlin Wall fell, de Klerk realized that the game was up and met Madiba in December.

On February 2, 1990, Mandela was pardoned unconditionally, and all formerly banned political parties were legalized. On February 11, Madiba walked out of prison after spending nearly 28 years in captivity.

Reconciliation, not revenge

When Madiba was released, South Africa was a tinderbox waiting to explode. Not only was there tension between the white minority and the black majority, but there was also tension between the ANC and the Inkatha party. For a long time, funded by the apartheid regime, it was led by Chief Mangosuthu Buthulezi, who tried his best to derail the process to build a new democratic South Africa.

Despite having spent years in prison, Madiba acted with incredible astuteness to navigate the tricky post-apartheid process. Although he clashed with de Klerk and even called for a UN peacekeeping force in South Africa to stop state terrorism, he was nimble enough to reach a compromise.

It is easy to forget how explosive the situation was during the negotiations. Even before talks began, de Klerk asked Madiba not to include Joe Slovo, the Jewish leader of the South African Communist Party, in his delegation. Madiba slapped de Klerk down. He told de Klerk that both of them could choose anyone for their delegations, and that de Klerk had no right to tell him who to include or exclude.

Madiba turned up with a multiracial delegation that included Slovo, while de Klerk’s crew consisted of 11 Afrikaner men. Negotiations were testy and were frequently in danger of breaking down. The combination of various parties and factions within them, tribal rivalries and a resentful white minority threatened to explode into a cornucopia of violence.

As de Klerk and Madiba clashed, violence did break out. Far-right Afrikaner parties and black ethnic-secessionist groups like Inkatha made common cause. More people died between 1990 and 1994 than in the thirty years before. One by one, all sticking points were addressed. It was the much reviled Slovo who came up with the idea of the “sunset clause.” This led to the breakthrough of 1992, when both sides agreed to a five-year coalition government following the first election. All sides agreed upon guarantees and concessions.

Today, de Klerk and his team pay tribute to Slovo, who would not have been at the negotiating table if they had their way. The Record of Understanding was signed on September 26, 1992, by the government and the ANC. Next year, Madiba and de Klerk were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

The next phase of negotiations continued to be tough, and violence continued. When ANC leader Chris Hani was murdered in April 1993 by a far-right white immigrant, it seemed that the country was headed for disaster. Hani was second only to Madiba in popularity. A member of parliament who opposed dismantling apartheid had lent his pistol to the murderer.

Madiba was also dealing with personal tragedy. The ailing Oliver Tambo, his closest friend who had carried the torch as president of the ANC when Madiba was in prison, died on April 24, 1993. Speaking at Tambo’s funeral, Madiba appealed for calm. He asked all South Africans to stand together for “the freedom of all of us” and pointed out that it was a white Afrikaner woman who called the police and identified the assassin. Madiba’s handling of the situation was one of his finest moments and contributed significantly to the successful conclusion of the negotiations.

Historic presidency: Truth and Reconciliation Commission

The 1994 elections led to an ANC victory, and Mandela became the first president of post-apartheid South Africa. He graciously allowed de Klerk to retain the presidential residence, which he called Genadendal, an Afrikaans word meaning “the valley of mercy”. It was an extraordinary gesture, and the years that Madiba spent learning Afrikaans came to good use to empathize with the white elite that felt insecure in the new Rainbow Nation, a term coined by Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

Madiba showed tremendous magnanimity in meeting senior figures of the apartheid regime, declaring that “courageous people do not fear forgiving, for the sake of peace.” He even met the widow of Hendrik Verwoerd, the architect of apartheid.

Perhaps his most symbolic act as president was supporting the Springboks, the much-reviled national rugby team. Black South Africans loved football — or soccer, as the Americans would say. Cricket and rugby were white sports. Rugby, in particular, was like religion for Afrikaans: a game of muscular, masculine camaraderie in which they excelled. Much to the discomfort of many of his supporters, Madiba threw his support behind the all-white Springboks team that won the World Cup at home, forging a new identity for the country.

As president, Madiba shepherded the young nation through the drafting of a new constitution. It came into effect on February 4, 1997, and has been widely regarded as one of the finest constitutions in the world. It guarantees civil liberties for everyone, minority protection, separation of powers and an independent judiciary. 

The beauty of the Constitution is that it involved massive public participation. People shared their views and sent suggestions that were incorporated into the document. It includes a famous Bill of Rights that promises the right to equality before the law and freedom from discrimination, prohibiting discrimination on the basis of race, gender, sex, pregnancy, marital status, ethnic or social origin, color, sexual orientation, age, disability, religion, conscience, belief, culture, language and birth. Kader Asmal and Albie Sachs, two noted jurists of Indian and Jewish origin, respectively, authored the bill, demonstrating the diversity and inclusivity of the new South Africa.

Madiba’s greatest achievement as president was the creation of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). Headed by Archbishop Tutu, its goal was to investigate crimes under apartheid by both the government and the ANC. It was highly controversial. Many believed that it allowed people to get away with murder and more.

The premise behind the TRC was exceedingly simple: the new nation had to forgive the sins of the past to forge a more harmonious future. For two years starting February 1996, the TRC conducted hearings of rapes, torture, bombings and murder.

The TRC remains controversial to this day. Many believe that it allowed the perpetrators of injustice to get off scot-free and that South Africa ought to have had trials as were conducted in Nuremberg.

The reality is that the TRC could never have achieved racial reconciliation or pleased everyone. It did achieve its purpose of finding out the truth about the crimes of the apartheid era and certainly contributed to a peaceful transition of power.

Tryst with greatness but feet of clay

A true test of greatness is whether a person can walk away from power. George Washington could have died in office, but chose to retire to his plantation. Gandhi had a near-divine status in India and chose his simple abode over the trappings of power.

In a continent first ravaged by colonization and then by “big men” who clung to power until they died, Madiba set a glorious example by leaving office after a single term. He could have easily stayed on for another term — even for life — but he retired to a life of simplicity and discouraged the development of a personality cult. He started spending his holidays in Qunu, the place where he spent his childhood. The house that he built there was based on the same cottage where he spent his last days in prison.

Like all great men, Madiba had his flaws. Like Gandhi, he was not the best father and had strained relations with his children. His marital problems are well-chronicled, as is his reputation as a ladies’ man. His second marriage to Winnie Madikizela was tumultuous. She was a feisty opponent of apartheid, but the struggle took a toll on her soul. She turned violent and vindictive, was convicted of kidnapping and fraud, and after their divorce, she lashed out against him for letting “blacks down.”

Mandela’s fondness for fine scarves, beautiful ties, flamboyant shirts and well-cut suits made him a dandy. Many joked about the number of times he would change his clothes throughout the day. His hobnobbing with celebrities was at times excessive.

Other mistakes had greater consequences. He admitted that, as president, he could have done more to combat the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV). In the past, his abandonment of nonviolence gave the apartheid government an excuse to intensify its oppression. They shrewdly painted Madiba as a communist, and both the US and UK backed the apartheid regime until its last days.

In fact, it was only in 2008 that the US took Madiba off its list of terrorists. The armed struggle of the ANC was ineffectual and put no pressure on the apartheid government. Gandhian civil disobedience would have served the ANC much better. The ANC needed to focus on its internal organization and plan its next mass movement instead of launching ill-conceived guerrilla attacks.

After Gandhi’s first movement ended in 1922, he patiently focused on preparing his next move, which he only launched in 1930. In an act of breathtaking symbolism, Gandhi conducted an epic march to the sea to break oppressive salt laws. This triggered a movement of civil disobedience that captured the imagination of the country and did much to propel India towards independence.

Gandhi had studied law in England, earned his spurs in South Africa, corresponded with Russian writer and religious thinker Leo Tolstoy, had a mentor like Gopal Krishna Gokhale and was a deeply spiritual man. 

Madiba was a different kettle of fish. A former boxer, he was more impulsive and lacked the international exposure of Gandhi. Madiba was also a product of his time when the US and the UK stood discredited and communism and socialism held sway. He was unable to realize that the Soviet Union was a brutal totalitarian state and that communism was doomed to failure. To his credit, though, in later life he would prove non-dogmatic and abandon his Marxist ideas for pluralist democracy.

Africa’s greatest son

Just as Gandhi did not singlehandedly win independence for India, Madiba did not demolish apartheid alone. A range of reasons, such as the end of the Cold War, increasing unrest, international sanctions and exhaustion of the ruling elite, combined to bring down apartheid. Others like Tambo, Tutu and de Klerk played their part. Yet, it was Madiba’s magnanimity, empathy and vision that led to the birth of the Rainbow Nation. 

South Africa still has a multitude of problems. After more than a century of oppression, the country’s problems were never going to be solved in less than two decades. Poverty is rife, crime is rampant and corruption is endemic. The current president is building a private mansion worth an estimated $20 million and has tried to stop the press from talking about it.

The country is an ongoing experiment in democracy, and it is because of Madiba that it has been able to embark on such a journey. After nearly three decades in prison, a lesser man might have come out bitter or broken. Madiba came out of the fire as tempered steel.

Even in prison, he initiated a meeting in 1985 with the then minister of justice, Kobie Coetsee. He did not inform anyone in the ANC about it, and he did so because he believed that at times “a leader must move ahead of his flock.”

As a free man, he behaved in a Gandhian manner, urging forgiveness and reconciliation. The Afrikaans that he learned in prison charmed sworn enemies such as Botha. Without Madiba, the post-apartheid negotiations would not have been successful, and the subsequent elections would not have been largely peaceful.

He had the magnanimity to praise former US President Ronald Reagan and former UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, two leaders who were the strongest supporters of apartheid. When he went to prison, he was influenced by socialist economic ideas. When he came out and saw the collapse of the Soviet system, he was willing to embrace the free market and build bridges with the business community. Most importantly, Madiba exchanged the trappings of power for a life of simplicity, setting a new example for Africa.

What he means to us

I have spent the past couple of days reading every obituary of Madiba, and it made me realize why I do what I do. I found much of the coverage about the man superficial. Most writers refused to delve deeper into the complexity of Madiba’s life and the context in which he operated. Too many conveniently put him on a pedestal and refused to engage with his legacy. The Economist, to its credit, produced an over 3,000-word obituary written with its customary panache. Yet, as I read it, I could not help but wince.

Earlier this year, when Margaret Thatcher died, this 1843 publication titled its obituary, “Freedom fighter”, and declared that “the world needs to hold fast to Margaret Thatcher’s principles.” No mention was made of Thatcher’s support of apartheid. Bobby Sands, the member of the Irish Republican Army who died of a hunger strike in prison, was forgotten. He died because Thatcher would not countenance demands such as the right of free association with other prisoners and to organize educational and recreational pursuits.

The Economist has been a brilliant voice, but it is the voice of the Empire, and a strong British leader like Thatcher evokes subliminal nostalgia. The newspaper tries to condone her support for apartheid by blaming Madiba’s commitment to armed struggle, conveniently ignoring that she had no objections to the violence unleashed by the apartheid regime. 

When Ruth First, the wife of Joe Slovo, was killed by a parcel bomb in Mozambique, Thatcher said nothing. She had no objection to the attempted murder of Albie Sachs by a car bomb that left him without an arm and an eye. For those of us who come from the erstwhile colonies, Gandhi and Madiba are freedom fighters, and it is their principles instead of Thatcher’s that the world needs to hold fast to.

The point that I am making is about narratives. All of history is mythology, and all of the news is fiction. For too long, the colonizers have told the story of the world. A look at the past issues of The Economist reveals that it never examined apartheid or condemned it in the same way as it deplored communism.

Even when talking of Madiba, it patronizes his “sub-Marxist drivel” whilst ignoring the ignominious record of the British government in supporting apartheid. It mentions Madiba and Gandhi in the same breath as Winston Churchill, Franklin Roosevelt, Charles de Gaulle and Jack Kennedy when enumerating the greatest statesmen of the 20th century.

From my point of view, only Roosevelt can be compared to Gandhi and Madiba. Although indubitably brilliant, Churchill was an imperial racist. He believed that if granted independence, Indians would slip “into the barbarism and privations of the Middle Ages.” De Gaulle was far too authoritarian, capricious and selfish. He withdrew from the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), plunged the European Economic Community (EEC) into crisis, tried to maintain France’s imperial role, treated student uprisings brutally and resigned only after losing a referendum. Kennedy does not have any substantial achievements to even merit consideration. Glamor alone does not make a man great. Roosevelt, with his New Deal, Atlantic Charter and support for the creation of the United Nations, is the only one who makes the cut.

I am making a simple point: the work of Gandhi and Madiba stands unfinished. The quest for freedom includes the expression of one’s narrative. The story of the world, which has long been told by a chosen few, now needs to be told by the world itself. In a 1994 interview, the legendary African writer Chinua Achebe quoted a proverb — “that until lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunter.” Through Fair Observer, we are setting out to ensure that “the story of the hunt will also reflect the agony, the travail—the bravery, even, of the lions.”

 Madiba, we owe this to you!

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.