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This real Man of the 20^th century was the inspiration for my character, the U.N. Secretary General, in the book Survivors of the Chaos.  I know that sounds self-serving and maybe diminishes Mandela’s greatness, but it’s a fact nonetheless.  He was a larger-than-life icon of South Africa’s struggle against Apartheid—he changed his country forever.  Moreover, he served and continues to serve as an inspiration for many who struggle against social and racial injustice everywhere, an inspiration that travels far beyond the small thoughts of an insignificant and unknown writer looking for a powerful character model.

There are forces for evil in this world like Franco and Hitler.  Mandela was a huge force for good.  But he just didn’t mouth the words—he lived them and suffered and gave dignity to his suffering.  He was not a perfect man—is anyone perfect?  I can’t speak for persons of antiquity.  I’m told that Buddha and Christ and Mohammed were perfect.  Didn’t know them.  Never saw their faces on TV.  Never listened to them vocalizing their words of wisdom.  But I, and countless others, listened to Mandela.  We experienced his goodness.  We heard his words of wisdom.  We saw him unite a country when he could have torn it apart.

I’m not trying to deify the real Man.  While larger than life in many ways (most great men are, even the evil ones), he was just a man.  But he was an unselfish man, a person thrust into leadership.  He was a revolutionary who worked within a corrupt system and brought it to its knees.  It took a long time.  And the revolution still goes on—in South Africa and many other places in the world, even here in the U.S.  Sometimes it’s bloody and violent, and the revolutionaries just change one oppression for another.  The calmer ones seem to last longer because they focus on logical arguments that eventually convince the naysayers.  Moving progressive thought forward in a slow, non-violent fashion requires patience.  Mandela had it—many people don’t.

I don’t know what South Africa’s future will be.  Like many other countries, the potential is great.  But I think the real Man, like my fictional character, would rather we work not just to bring our countries together internally and give all our people opportunity but also to forge a new world where people from different countries live together in peace.  Mandela eschewed fundamentalism and violence in his own country when it was most important to do so.  He didn’t live long enough to put a dent in them outside his country.

Indeed, is it fair to ask anyone to go beyond the problems of his own country?  Humanity is vast.  The most we can hope for is that someone’s stand for moral integrity serves as a role model far beyond that person’s country.  Mandela accomplished this—in spades.  But he also showed the importance of family, from his own to his wider family, his nation.  He knew that they were all in the same boat lost in stormy seas and that it would capsize and sink unless everyone pitched in to bail it out.  He called upon his greater family—white and black alike—to grab a bucket and start bailing.

Some people compare Mr. Obama with Mr. Mandela—both were their country’s first black president, for example.  To his credit, Mr. Obama will have none of this.  He compares Mr. Mandela to Washington because, in many ways, Mandela is the father of his nation.  I’d say more: Mandela is Washington, Lincoln, and King all rolled into one.  He worked before, during, and after his presidency to keep the bucket brigade going, to keep the South African ship of state afloat on those stormy seas.  He not only had King’s dream for South Africa—he made their extended sense of family a reality.  In doing so, he offered us a microscope to study the petri dish of our own body politic.

I probably didn’t develop enough of that part of my fictional character’s persona.  At the time, I simply admired the real Man enough to use him as a character model.  The real Man faced a nation in chaos.  The fictional Man of my novel faced a world in chaos.  I couldn’t do justice to the real Man—not then and not now, writing to celebrate his life.  My failure is a testimony to Mandela’s greatness.  On a personal level, I suppose that’s a downer.  But, in a wider sense, it makes me smile.  Truth is stranger than fiction sometimes—and it’s often larger as well.

“Overcoming poverty is not a task of charity, it is an act of justice.  Like Slavery and Apartheid, poverty is not natural.  It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by the action of human beings.”—Nelson Mandela

And so it goes…

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