The violence of Mandela

In the hour after hour of coverage given by the BBC and other mainstream news channels to the late Nelson Mandela, we have seen a certain image unrolled before us. In it, Mandela is equated with the great men of ‘non violent’ struggle of our time – Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. Many of the pictures show Mandela after he was released from jail in 1990 having served 27 years behind bars. For the most part, they depict a gentle if determined man, in his later years waving benevolently out from cars or smilingly posing with children.

This of course was one part of Nelson Mandela’s extraordinary life; a life that makes him undoubtedly one of the most influential people of our century, one of its greatest heroes. But what we have been shown for the most part and what we have heard in tribute depicts only a part of the truth. Partial truth is in many ways not all that different to lies.

The same major news channels that have been paying their tributes to Mandela forget that they at one time were among those who demonised him and termed him a terrorist and communist. It has been forgotten that this media, along with leaders from much of the west, long played their part in propping up the apartheid regime in South Africa and allowing it to remain in place. Russian, Cuban and Chinese news channels have been quick to point this out – but then who listens to broadcasts from such sources, or accepts that as part of a repainting of history, Mandela has been altered and disguised.

The real questions we should be asking are whether, without the violent struggle against an evil, unrelenting and armed force that he stood for, South Africa would ever have achieved freedom. We should also ask if the high levels of poverty in South Africa, the creation of a new ‘black’ elite alongside the old ‘white’, may have been better resolved had he stuck to his socialist ideals. This aspect of Mandela’s life, his belief, has largely been glossed over – but it is very real, very significant and extremely important to history. We were not told that, following his release from jail, one of his first trip overseas was to meet Fidel Castro in Havana.

Since the mid-1950s, Mandela had held that, without a violent struggle, without the taking up of arms – which were obtained from mainly communist countries – freedom was simply not a possibility. He was backed in this line by South African Communist Party leader, Joe Slovo, after years of dithering on the point by previous CP leaders. Mandela’s speeches at the time reflected a call to take to arms, and he became more convinced of this after March 1960 when dozens of black protesters were mowed down by the police in the Transvaal township of Sharpeville.

The armed wing of the African National Congress, ‘Umkhonto we Sizwe’ (literally meaning ‘Spear of the Nation’ and often shortened to MK) was formed soon afterwards, and continued its actions through Mandela’s imprisonment from 1964 to 1990. It was only after 1990 that Mandela was ‘re-invented’ in the est, the violent struggle which had by then gripped South Africa persuading the world that action was needed.

All this is in some ways history. Nelson Mandela’s greatness largely lies in his willingness to use force – when it was required – and perhaps most crucially of all to ensure that arms were put away at the right time. This won for South Africa the international backing it needed. Few men would have the ability he displayed after 1994 and in the run-up to his country’s first multiracial election, to put hatred and anger aside, persuade others to do the same and build unity in a deeply divided land.

But the story of Mandela’s life, incompletely told in so many places with few images even in existence of his fiery, furious speeches of the 1950s and 1960s, raise important questions about violence and its necessity in certain situations. Others, including that essentially gentle man of medicine, Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara, best known as a revolutionary fighter, have written about this dilemma. The question that arises is when, and at what point, force becomes the only way to deal with evil, and if without it achieving a goal is even possible. The idea is something that needs to be thought about.

Mandela’s portrayal as an entirely passive man is in so many ways skewed, and it takes away from us vital elements of historic truth, as we become wrapped up in whatever reality the BBC and others create for their audiences. Instead we should consider if there are times when there is no option but to turn to arms as a means to deal with evil. Obviously, this should be the last resort. It is a credit to men like Gandhi and King that they led their struggles without turning to it. But this is not always possible. The discussions on the point held within the South Africa of the 1950s and in other places around the world are extremely relevant. These are discussions we should be thinking about as well.

Needless to say, no one wants conflict within a country; no one wants gunfire, bomb blasts or rocket attacks. But is it true that in some cases these may be the only way to escape tyranny and evil? Is this something we need to think about with respect to events in our tribal areas and elsewhere? Are the Taliban militants a force that can really be talked to? Just like the leaders of the ‘old’ South Africa, ruled by prejudice, it seems that logic or rationality does not always penetrate deeply held ideological beliefs, whether they pertain to the colour of skin or a particular system of belief.

The argument that violence is not always bad can be a dangerous one. But most people in, say, the Cuba of today would argue that the armed struggle begun there in 1956 and the overthrow of Batista regime three years later is a crucial chapter in their history. South Africans would take much the same line with respect to the sometimes violent events that mark their past and the eventual raising of the tri-colour of freedom over their nation. There are many other examples in history.

It is important to look at history as a whole, not dissect it and put forward only certain portions as has been happening in the case of Nelson Mandela. Mandela’s greatness lies in all that he did, and all that he refused to do. We must understand the full story and not just an abbreviated, censored or manipulated version of it if we are to gain any real comprehension of why certain figures are crucial to countries and to the making of the world we live in today.

Mandela of course stands out as one such figure – but not necessarily because of the manner in which his image is being held up before the world. There is much more to the man than that. South Africans themselves are aware of this, and it is easy to see that in many ways the recreation of Mandela as a kind of peaceful hero is intended to appease the conscience of a world that did too little to come to his aid when he needed such help most, to battle one of the most brutal regimes known in the modern age.

The writer is a freelance columnist and former newspaper editor.Email: kamilahyat@hotmail.com