In a historic passing that went largely unrecognized in the Yeshiva University community, Nelson Mandela, the revered South African anti-apartheid icon, died on Thursday, December 5th at age 95.
Mandela leaves behind a legacy of heroism in the face of tremendous adversity. In 1962, he was arrested for his militant sabotage campaign against the apartheid government. Convicted of conspiracy to overthrow the state, he was sentenced to life imprisonment and sent to Robben Island. As inmate No. 466/64, he slept on the floor of a six-foot-wide cell for 27 years. While incarcerated, Mandela earned a law degree via correspondence.
During those two-plus decades, the global anti-apartheid movement gained traction. His incarceration began to draw the world’s attention. Songs were dedicated to him, and 600 million people watched the Free Mandela concert at London’s Wembley Stadium in 1988.
In 1985, Mandela refused the government’s offer to free him if he renounced armed struggle against apartheid. It wasn’t until South African President P.W. Botha had a stroke and was replaced by F.W. de Klerk in 1989 that the world finally prepared for Mandela’s imminent release. On February 11th, 1990, an aged Mandela closed his cell door for the last time. He was met on the other side by an exuberant crowd.
Directly after his release, Mandela joined negotiations with President F. W. de Klerk to abolish apartheid and establish multiracial elections in 1994, in which he led the African National Congress (ANC) to victory and became South Africa’s first black president. He and de Klerk were honored with the 1993 Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts. Mandela published his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom, in 1995.
A democratic hero. An idealist. A visionary. It is difficult not to marvel at the accomplishments and progress brought about by this one man.
Yet, in the Jewish community, there is a feeling of unease with indiscriminately venerating Mandela. He openly supported and aligned himself with the Palestinian cause, viewing them as fellow “freedom fighters.” He is critiqued time and again for his embrace of Yasir Arafat, calling him a “brother” and a “comrade in arms.” He did not reject the PLO, stating in 1990, “We do not reject the PLO as a terrorist organization.” In 2000, Mandela defended Iran’s false conviction of 13 Iranian Jews for espionage, calling the trail “free and fair.” He encouraged Israel to give over the West Bank to a Palestinian state, though qualifying that the Arabs must first recognize Israel “under secure boarders.”
However, though Mandela never evaded accusations of being anti-Israel, and despite the fact that he allied himself with parties who denied Israel’s right to exist, Mandela forged close ties with South Africa’s Jewish community. He notably reached out to the country’s late Chief Rabbi, Cyril Harris, and appeared at many Jewish events.
Yet, Mandela additionally failed to challenge the violent regimes of tyrants like Kaddafy in Libya and Mugabe in Zimbabwe. While he himself renounced a regime of violence, he understood and sympathized with the effectiveness of militant action, even terrorism.
With so many seeming stains on his record, how are we supposed to remember this great man? A degree of ambivalence is understandable. Must his imperfections detract from his legacy?
I argue to the contrary. Appreciating a holistic and realistic picture of Mandela’s life need not diminish from our reverence. Can we say he did not sympathize with terrorists? No. But does he remain a model of democracy, a shining example of the powers of reconciliation and forgiveness? Absolutely.
History often has the tendency to whitewash the legacies of its most beloved heroes. Those who throw dirt on pristine portraits are labeled as conspirators and muckrakers, disrupting an otherwise perfect memory.
But history need not idealize its heroes. Mandela need not be absolved of his mistakes in order to be remembered as a luminary. After all, our own tradition and texts make a point of documenting the missteps and oversights of our greatest biblical heroes. They remain heroes nonetheless.
Here’s to one dignified, imperfect hero. Thank you for giving the world hope. Thank you, Nelson Mandela, for teaching us about the power for good nestled in every beating human heart.