Mandela Can’t Do It All

I am South African. Nelson Mandela was also South African. Since his death, there has been a lot of emotion poured out by my countrymen.

People wept. Eulogies flowed. Facebook grieved. Flags hung limply at half-mast.

Everyone referred to him by using his intimate family names — Madiba and Tata. It felt like everyone in South Africa had lost a relative.

World leaders paid homage. The man-in-the-street gave honour. You must be some kind of a legend to make the entire world pause and lament.

What's not to pay tribute to? Jailed for 27 years in a tiny cell. Sentenced to hard labour in Robben Island prison quarry. Tortured by racists for being anti-racist.

And then to be released and actively promote love for the enemy. All the while selflessly handing over power to a successor.

He disarmed everybody — literally. He charmed everybody — universally. He loved everybody — equally. He unified everybody — charismatically.

Instead of a Nuremburg trial, the oppressor got a Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearing: "If you honestly narrate your crimes, we'll give you amnesty." His aim was to liberate both the oppressor and the oppressed.

"For to be free," he famously said, "is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."

He was the Doyen of Forgiveness. "No one is born hating another person," he said. "People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love."

Forgiveness is the ability to treat an unworthy person as if they were altogether worthy. It is the planet's most urgent need, for we all require it.

Contradiction

Mourn the great man by all means. But why not also mourn the ways we do not forgive? We are in contradiction if we mourn the one but not the other.

Nelson Mandela can't do all the forgiving.

The world needs a hero. The hero needs the world to be heroic.

We don't have to be sentenced to hard labour on Robben Island to get an opportunity to forgive. We just need a boss, a spouse, a friend, a fellow train commuter, members of another race group in our community, or 20 minutes in rush hour.

If we think we are superior, we'll never forgive anyone. Mandela thought the interests of others were superior to his own. It promoted a unique brand of kindness.

The problem is not that we can't be kind; it's that we think we are superior and therefore have no need to be kind.

Sometimes I think people deify a hero in exchange for not having to act like the hero. ItÕs a transaction to ease the conscience.

Opportunities for forgiveness are rife. They accost us every day.

And heroes aren't determined by the size of the audience. They are determined by the quality of their actions.

We can forgive those who injure us.

It's just the sort of thing Mandela would do.