Can the entire spectrum of Nelson Mandela’s life be reduced to one meaning? Mcebisi Ndletyana doesn’t think so.
Johannesburg - What becomes of the memory of an iconic leader? Now that Nelson Mandela has died and been buried in his remote ancestral village of Qunu, he has become a memory.
But his isn’t just any other, to be invoked privately, for Mandela was not a private citizen. He was the founding father of the democratic republic.
The man surrendered his person – lidini lesizwe – as a foundation upon which to construct a new nation and attracted immeasurable adulation.
That his birthday – July 18 – is celebrated across the world is a mark of his distinction in history.
And so, two weeks ago for the first time since his death, together with the rest of the world, we invoked his memory – a national practice that has become a ritual for introspection and renewal.
We probe whether the republic remains true to his meaning and recommit to staying the course.
We have obviously deduced meaning from Mandela’s life. But can the entire spectrum of the man’s life be reduced to one meaning? And, if it lends itself to multiple meanings, which one do we exult and why that over others?
Indeed Malaika wa Azania and Mzwanele Mayekiso, in their insightful analyses last week, raised these necessary questions.
Though both writing on the meaning of Mandela, their different focal points – one berates overemphasis on reconciliation, and the other decries his removal from an organisational collective – is revealing.
This affirms the contentious nature of memory and that our interpretations are selective and subjective.
For starters, Mandela’s memory is a source of legitimacy. His iconic stature is the barometer by which we measure what is permissible in our society. Any activity or cause that accords with what he symbolises gains credibility.
Because of the value that accrues from that association, inevitably there are competing claims to Mandela’s memory. The claimants are multiple, ranging from politicians, to interest groups and individuals. The assortment of claimants doesn’t reflect only the variety of interests that make up society, but is also a function of the several layers that constituted the man’s identity. He was modern and traditional; an atheist, yet spiritual; and a warrior that never shied away from making peace.
For its part, the Nelson Mandela Foundation chose to hold him up as an epitome of activism. The plea has since received official backing and is now a ritual, which may even become a public holiday. Although the call implores us to live up to Mandela’s meaning, it nonetheless leaves it to individuals to define the exact nature and purpose of that activism. The activism doesn’t make any specific demands.
And so, because we’re a society of multiple interests, we have chosen to interpret that activism in a way that accords with our individual interests.
To some degree, it’s less about Mandela’s memory, but more about us appropriating his symbolism for our own interests. Thus we’ve come to have many competing interpretations of what Mandela represents and this involves an array of actors.
Some of those that purport to promote reconciliation, for instance, claim to be advancing Mandela’s legacy. Yet, their version of reconciliation eschews social justice. They define the two as binary opposites. Apparently pursuing social justice would go against Mandela’s memory.
This is disingenuous. It accents one of Mandela’s values to the exclusion of others and gives it permanency. Accentuating reconciliation over social justice was necessitated by the demands of the time – to consolidate peace in a country that had just emerged from decades of hatred, pain and killings. And reconciliatory efforts do not rule out social justice as a route towards reconciling society.
Among the claimants of Mandela’s memory, one also finds traditional leaders. Chieftaincy is not synonymous with progressiveness. Yet, these folks lay claim over a leader that presided over the writing of the most enlightened constitution in the world.
Because Mandela embraced them and was himself an active royalty, chiefs feel emboldened to demand more powers and resources. It does not even matter that some of them are less than honourable. They have Mandela’s memory in their corner, and that’s enough to demand largesse and honour. If Mandela respected the institution, to the point of even reviving the Mandela chieftaincy, why shouldn’t chiefs receive treatment befitting of that stature, they reason.
The chiefs’ claim over Mandela is not without merit. The man himself revelled in being royalty. This illustrates the multiple layers that define one’s identity. The chiefly part of his memory may even receive a boost now that he’s buried in Qunu. Visitors to the graveyard are most likely treated to the narrative of Mandela, the Thembu Prince. The surrounding lends itself to that sort of narrative.
To be sure, Mandela is not the only historical figure whose memory is contested.
The memory of America’s Abraham Lincoln is subject to similar contestation. Officialdom and white America, for instance, prefer that Lincoln is remembered as the “great unifier”, who saved the Union.
African-Americans, however, remember him differently. Descendants of slaves, they insist on celebrating Lincoln as the “great emancipator” whose founding constitution freed their ancestors from slavery. In other words, African-Americans use Lincoln’s memory to remind officialdom of their sin of slavery, for which they claim reparations. Because it reminds them of their debt, officialdom eschews Lincoln’s memory as the “great emancipator”. Each party remembers Lincoln in a way that validates their interests.
Most important to note here is that officialdom can never dictate how the republic remembers its iconic leaders.
People have their own memories, especially because leaders play out their lives in public. They know best what made those individual leaders, because they consented to their leadership. You’ll remember back to the Mandela memorial at FNB Stadium. People booed President Jacob Zuma, because they thought him unworthy to speak over Mandela’s body.
Ngangomhlaba Matanzima, the chief who spoke on behalf of the family at the funeral, expressed disapproval about the booing. Claiming Mandela as a Xhosa chief (!Dalibhunga), and speaking in isiXhosa before an international audience without translation, Matanzima said: “What we saw poured dirty water over what Dalibhunga had achieved over years… It’s as if people, who had been freed because of his sacrifices, did not appreciate the pain he had endured.”
As the chief that he is, Matanzima clearly didn’t appreciate that people expressed themselves as citizens about their own president. It was obviously lost to the chief that citizens are not subjects. Unlike subjects, and because of their sovereignty, citizens speak freely without seeking permission or approval of their views. They do so because it is their entitlement. Matanzima was clearly burying a Thembu chief, not a revolutionary.
Memory is contested. Some interpretations may even be malicious, intended to achieve aims that violate the essence of Mandela’s meaning. Whichever way some might choose to remember Mandela, they will not erase how others remember him. And, each will insist on their way of remembering.
What counts above all, however, is how the masses remember Mandela.
They recall him as a transformative and ethical leader. Because of that memory, the people of South Africa will never accept anything less.
* Mcebisi Ndletyana is head of the Political Economy Faculty at MISTRA.
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Newspapers.
Sunday Independent