Remarks of the United States of America President Barack Obama –
As Prepared for Delivery Remembering
Nelson Mandela
Johannesburg, South Africa on Tuesday, December 10, 2013.
To
Graça Machel and the Mandela family;
to President Zuma and members of the
government;
to heads of state and government, past and present;
distinguished
guests -
It is a singular honor to be with you today, to celebrate a life
unlike any other. To the people of South Africa - people of every race and walk
of life - the world thanks you for sharing Nelson Mandela with us. His struggle
was your struggle. His triumph was your triumph. Your dignity and hope found
expression in his life, and your freedom, your democracy is his cherished
legacy.
It
is hard to eulogize any man - to capture in words not just the facts and the
dates that make a life, but the essential truth of a person - their private
joys and sorrows; the quiet moments and unique qualities that illuminate
someone’s soul. How much harder to do so for a giant of history, who moved a nation
toward justice, and in the process moved billions around the world.
Born
during World War I, far from the corridors of power, a boy raised herding
cattle and tutored by elders of his Thembu tribe - Madiba would emerge as the
last great liberator of the 20th century. Like Gandhi, he would lead a
resistance movement - a movement that at its start held little prospect of
success. Like King, he would give potent voice to the claims of the oppressed,
and the moral necessity of racial justice. He would endure a brutal
imprisonment that began in the time of Kennedy and Khrushchev, and reached the
final days of the Cold War. Emerging from prison, without force of arms, he
would - like Lincoln - hold his country together when it threatened to break
apart. Like America’s founding fathers, he would erect a constitutional order to preserve
freedom for future generations - a commitment to democracy and rule of law
ratified not only by his election, but by his willingness to step down from
power.
Given
the sweep of his life, and the adoration that he so rightly earned, it is
tempting then to remember Nelson Mandela as an icon, smiling and serene,
detached from the tawdry affairs of lesser men. But Madiba himself strongly resisted such a lifeless
portrait. Instead, he insisted on sharing with us his doubts and fears;
his miscalculations along with his victories. “I’m not a saint,” he said, “unless you think of a saint
as a sinner who keeps on trying.”
It
was precisely because he could admit to imperfection - because he could be so
full of good humor, even
mischief, despite the heavy burdens he carried - that we loved him so.
He was not a bust made of
marble; he was a man of flesh and blood - a son and husband, a father
and a friend. That is why we learned so much from him; that is why we can learn
from him still. For nothing he achieved was inevitable. In the arc of his life,
we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness;
persistence and faith. He tells us what’s possible not just in the pages of dusty history books,
but in our own lives as well.
Mandela
showed us the power of action; of taking risks on behalf of our ideals. Perhaps Madiba was
right that he inherited, “a
proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” from his father.
Certainly he shared with millions of black and colored South Africans the anger
born of, “a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered
moments…a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people.”
But
like other early giants of
the ANC - the Sisulus and Tambos - Madiba disciplined his anger; and
channeled his desire to fight into organization, and platforms, and strategies
for action, so men and women could stand-up for their dignity. Moreover, he
accepted the consequences of his actions, knowing that standing up to powerful interests and injustice
carries a price. “I have fought against white domination and I have fought
against black domination,” he said at his 1964 trial. “I’ve cherished the ideal of a democratic
and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal
opportunities. It is an
ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an
ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
Mandela
taught us the power of action, but also ideas; the importance of reason and
arguments; the need to
study not only those you agree with, but those who you don’t. He
understood that ideas cannot be contained by prison walls, or extinguished by a sniper’s
bullet. He turned his trial into an indictment of apartheid because of
his eloquence and
passion, but also his training as an advocate. He used decades in prison to
sharpen his arguments, but also to spread his thirst for knowledge to others in
the movement. And he learned the language and customs of his oppressor so that
one day he might better convey to them how their own freedom depended upon his.
Mandela
demonstrated that action and ideas are not enough; no matter how right, they
must be chiseled into laws and institutions. He was practical, testing his
beliefs against the hard surface of circumstance and history. On core
principles he was unyielding, which is why he could rebuff offers of
conditional release, reminding the Apartheid regime that, “prisoners cannot enter into
contracts.” But as he showed in painstaking negotiations to transfer
power and draft new laws, he was not afraid to compromise for the sake of a
larger goal. And because he was not only a leader of a movement, but a skillful
politician, the Constitution that emerged was worthy of this multiracial
democracy; true to his vision of laws that protect minority as well as majority
rights, and the precious freedoms of every South African.
Finally,
Mandela understood the ties that bind the human spirit. There is a word in
South Africa- Ubuntu - that describes his greatest gift: his recognition that
we are all bound together in ways that can be invisible to the eye; that there
is a oneness to humanity; that we achieve ourselves by sharing ourselves with
others, and caring for those around us. We can never know how much of this was
innate in him, or how much of was shaped and burnished in a dark, solitary
cell. But we remember the gestures, large and small - introducing his jailors
as honored guests at his inauguration; taking the pitch in a Springbok uniform;
turning his family’s heartbreak into a call to confront HIV/AIDS - that
revealed the depth of his empathy and understanding. He not only embodied
Ubuntu; he taught millions to find that truth within themselves. It took a man
like Madiba to free not just the prisoner, but the jailor as well; to show that
you must trust others so that they may trust you; to teach that reconciliation
is not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with
inclusion, generosity and truth. He changed laws, but also hearts.
For
the people of South Africa, for those he inspired around the globe - Madiba’s
passing is rightly a time of mourning, and a time to celebrate his heroic life.
But I believe it should also prompt in each of us a time for self-reflection. With
honesty, regardless of our station or circumstance, we must ask: how well have
I applied his lessons in my own life?
It
is a question I ask myself - as a man and as a President. We know that like
South Africa, the United States had to overcome centuries of racial
subjugation. As was true here, it took the sacrifice of countless people -
known and unknown - to see the dawn of a new day. Michelle and I are the
beneficiaries of that struggle. But in America and South Africa, and countries
around the globe, we cannot allow our progress to cloud the fact that our work
is not done. The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality and
universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those
that came before, but they are no less important. For around the world today,
we still see children suffering from hunger, and disease; run-down schools, and
few prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still
imprisoned for their political beliefs; and are still persecuted for what they
look like, or how they worship, or who they love.
We,
too, must act on behalf of justice. We, too, must act on behalf of peace. There
are too many of us who happily embrace Madiba’s legacy of racial
reconciliation, but passionately resist even modest reforms that would
challenge chronic poverty and growing inequality. There are too many leaders who claim solidarity with
Madiba’s struggle for freedom, but do not tolerate dissent from their own
people. And there are too many of us who stand on the sidelines,
comfortable in complacency or cynicism when our voices must be heard.
The
questions we face today - how to promote equality and justice; to uphold
freedom and human rights; to end conflict and sectarian war - do not have easy
answers. But there were no easy answers in front of that child in Qunu. Nelson
Mandela reminds us that it always seems impossible until it is done. South
Africa shows us that is true. South Africa shows us we can change. We can choose
to live in a world defined not by our differences, but by our common hopes. We
can choose a world defined not by conflict, but by peace and justice and
opportunity.
We
will never see the likes of Nelson Mandela again. But let me say to the young
people of Africa, and young people around the world - you can make his life’s work your own.
Over thirty years ago, while still a student, I learned of Mandela and the
struggles in this land. It stirred something in me. It woke me up to my
responsibilities - to others, and to myself - and set me on an improbable
journey that finds me here today. And while I will always fall short of
Madiba’s example, he makes me want to be better. He speaks to what is best
inside us. After this great liberator is laid to rest; when we have returned to
our cities and villages, and rejoined our daily routines, let us search then
for his strength - for his largeness of spirit - somewhere inside ourselves.
And when the night grows dark, when injustice weighs heavy on our hearts, or
our best laid plans seem beyond our reach - think of Madiba, and the words that
brought him comfort within the four walls of a cell:
“It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.”
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.”
What
a great soul it was. We will miss him deeply. May God bless the memory of
Nelson Mandela. May God bless the people of South Africa.
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