Nicholas Haysom
Writes an appreciation of Nelson Mandela on the eve of his 95th birthday
LIKE many other South Africans, I have recently been considering the vast debt that South Africa — and the world — owes to Nelson Mandela. Here in Kabul, Afghanistan, where I am now based, his health is closely followed. I am frequently asked with real concern about his recovery by international diplomats, politicians and ordinary Afghans. It is a reminder that Madiba holds a special place in the hearts and minds of people all over the world.
I have also been thinking about Madiba because war-torn Afghanistan is preparing for a presidential election, its first democratic transfer of power. There has been intense debate regarding the attributes of a candidate capable of leading this divided country through its transition. More than a few Afghans have confided that “our problem is we have no Mandela”.
This has been a common lament in other conflict-afflicted countries in which I have worked — Sudan, Sri Lanka, Iraq and Burundi. They mean that they lack a leader who is bigger than the divisions that have torn their communities apart. They need a “Mandela” uniquely capable of speaking for those that demand change and simultaneously addressing those that fear it.
This has brought home to me a real appreciation of the national asset that Mandela constitutes. His varied and lifelong contribution to the emancipation of South Africa from apartheid is well recorded. His transformation from political prisoner to the country’s first democratically elected leader is remarkable. What is extraordinary is that he has become our universally beloved national icon, a condition for healing our bitter divisions and even, perhaps, a collective father figure. Although he certainly left his mark on the stage of international politics, his universally acclaimed stature derives from his inspirational role as the political leader in South Africa who endured 27 years of imprisonment and emerged without rancour to become its first democratically elected president.
I am only qualified to share insights into this great South African gained while he was president. The particular challenge he faced during that time was to create from his divided country a united nonracial democracy. This challenge reminds me of the statement erroneously attributed to Italian nationalist Giuseppe Garibaldi after the final battlefield victory that unified Italy. “Now that we have created Italy, let us create Italians.”
If this understanding — t hat sharing a geographical space does not create a nation — applied in a country that had a common race, language, history and religion, imagine then the task facing Mandela of creating “South Africans”. Failure might have meant a debilitating civil war, or the steady erosion of the country’s material and social capital.
Throughout his tenure, Mandela insisted that the policies of the government respect that the country belonged to all who lived in it. I remember being collectively chided by him for not singing the last two verses of the national anthem ( Die Stem). Nothing gave him as much satisfaction as seeing South Africans in their full diversity brought together in common purpose. This did not mean he was not pained by the obvious disparity be- tween rich and poor — the visible conditions of poverty many black South Africans continue to live in. He believed that its comprehensive treatment would require a concerted national effort that would take time and sacrifice and outlast his period as president. Although he dedicated considerable personal time and money towards educational and related philanthropic projects, his task as president was to put South Africa in the best possible position to take on this challenge.
In service of his broader goal, Madiba would bring a single-minded determination, conviction and self-discipline to bear. His ability to put behind him the indignities and humiliations of racist practices that black South Africans had endured was not because he did not remember them, or often trenchantly related them to me with full moral disgust. His commitment to rec-
Madiba could also be a flagrant public charmer. He could win over hardened politicians, flatter celebrities, joke with giggling schoolchildren
onciliation is all the more remarkable once one grasps that Madiba imposed on himself this discipline: to forge a nonracial democratic South Africa, he would refuse himself the licence to be bitter.
Determination and discipline would make him learn Afrikaans in prison so that, at the right place and time, he would be better equipped to negotiate a transition to a nonracial democracy. He would impose on himself a punishing social and political schedule. He was fastidiously punctual. Self-discipline informed his daily habits. In the years following his release from prison, Mandela would rise at 5am or earlier. He would make his bed as neatly as any soldier at boot camp — a phenomenon that quite disturbed the housekeeping staff at many of the world’s leading hotels — and exercise before indulging in reading his many newspapers.
Madiba employed his gracious charm in service of his higher goal. He treated all who came into contact with him with equal and generous attentiveness and appreciation. It came easily to him. He was comfortable with people, whether one on one or in a crowd. His insistence on personally greeting the staff who served him at hotels, banquets and restaurants took precedence over the demands of protocol. He preferred informality and was uncomfortable with protocol and ostentatious motorcades.
Madiba’s starting point was to believe in the integrity of all those he engaged with. This was not naiveté. He was, I believe, aware that it brought out the best in his allies, foes and colleagues. The downside of starting with the “glass full” was his disappointment should one fall short of the trust he had given.
Madiba could be a flagrant public charmer. He could win over hardened politicians, flatter celebrities, joke with giggling schoolchildren. He told the Spice Girls when he met them that he had been so beside himself with excitement that he had not been able to sleep the night before — and they believed him.
None of this is to suggest that Madiba be viewed simply as a kindly uncle figure. He was capable of a resolute, steely toughness — as many found out. He shared with me that toughness was a necessary part of leadership and unless one was prepared to be “brutally tough” in service of one’s convictions, one should not aspire to leadership.
In spite of his aristocratic origins, Madiba was inherently a democrat and it showed in his political actions and his practice of leadership. He readily accepted that he was not bigger than his own party, the ANC. He would insist on robust intraparty democracy, and this indeed was the text of his final presidential address to his party’s congress. When he stepped down in 1999 despite pleas to remain, he was responding to one of his most strongly held beliefs — presidents should not stay in office for long. Beyond one, perhaps two terms, cronyism would become entrenched.
Mandela himself would display that rare political virtue — a willingness to admit a mistake, even publicly apologise to an adversary. In his case, it seemed to increase his stature. Mandela’s instinctual desire to level himself was evident in his style of leadership. He often referred to his mistakes to illustrate a better way of doing things.
He still refuses to accept accolades showered on him as the man responsible for South Africa’s peaceful transition. On introducing my then-boss, UN secretary-gen-
On important issues, he took an active role in debates. He would sometimes fail to carry the floor — and would always accept the result
eral Ban Ki-moon, to my previous boss, Mandela, Ban quite naturally began to express his appreciation for Mandela’s contribution not only to South Africa, but, by his example, to the world. Madiba interrupted twice to insist that he had a small part in the drama — that the transition was the work of “millions of men and women, South African and non-South African”.
As president, Madiba was keenly aware of the example he needed to set to promote a culture of democracy and respect for the rule of law. He was quick to publicise his intention to respect court rulings that overturned his government’s decisions. He is the only head of state I know who, while in office, agreed to submit himself to aggressive crossexamination in a court of law regarding a political (discretionary) decision. He surprised his cabinet by referring a law passed by parliament to the Constitutional Court to confirm its constitutionality before signing it. Even though he supported the law, it was the higher duty of the president to ensure that doubts regarding constitutionality be clarified.
Despite his sensitivity to democratic practice, Madiba argued that leaders had to lead. On important issues he took an active, even forceful role in debates in his party and in the cabinet. He would sometimes fail to carry the floor — and would always accept the result.
One such issue, on which history should record the correctness of his position, was the strong stand he took against the Nigerian military junta after the execution of Ken Saro-Wiwa. Another issue on which he would lead — the use of sport to unify the nation, specifically his support for the 1995 World Cup Springboks — demonstrated not only leadership, but political savvy. The donning of the No 6 jersey at the finals would be his most effective evisceration of the white right wing, a political masterstroke.
The five years that Madiba was president have been referred to as the “Camelot” period. To be sure, he enjoyed the benefit of a national spirit of renewal and huge international well-meaning. When he stood down, he had stocked the country with a reservoir of goodwill both internally and externally. This was a social capital it could draw on as it faced new and difficult challenges — the mountains ahead that Mandela refers to in the last pages of his biography, No Easy Walk to Freedom. Only history can judge whether we have used that capital well.
Haysom was legal adviser to Mandela during his presidency and now serves as the deputy special representative of the UN secretarygeneral in Afghanistan