Nelson Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom

The historic inauguration ceremony

The chapter opens on a bright, clear autumn day — 10 May 1994. Nelson Mandela is being sworn in as the first black President of South Africa. The ceremony takes place in the lovely sandstone amphitheatre formed by the Union Buildings in Pretoria. For decades these very buildings had been the seat of white domination; now, for the first time, they host a rainbow gathering of people of all colours and nations. More than the usual handful of dignitaries attend — political leaders and statesmen from over 140 countries fly in to witness the birth of a new democracy. Mandela calls it “the largest gathering ever of international leaders on South African soil.” This single image — the old fortress of oppression filled with free people — captures the whole meaning of the day.

The oaths and the new beginning

Mr de Klerk, the outgoing State President, is sworn in first as second deputy president. Then Thabo Mbeki is sworn in as first deputy president. Finally Mandela himself takes the oath. He pledges to obey and uphold the Constitution and to devote himself to the well-being of the republic and its people. In his speech he says that the time for the healing of wounds has come, and that “never, never and never again” shall this beautiful land suffer the oppression of one by another. He promises that South Africa has achieved its political emancipation and pledges to free all his people from the bondage of poverty, deprivation, suffering and discrimination.

The military salute — a powerful symbol

A moving moment follows. A spectacular array of South African jets, helicopters and troop carriers roars over the Union Buildings in a display of perfect precision. This is not merely a show of military might — it is a demonstration of the military’s loyalty to democracy and to a government that had been freely and fairly elected. Mandela notes the irony: the same generals whose chests are decorated with medals salute him, a man who only a short while earlier would have been arrested by them. The highest-ranking generals of the South African defence force and police, their chests bedecked with ribbons, salute and pledge their loyalty to the new constitutional order.

Two national anthems

The ceremony closes with the singing of two national anthems. The whites sing “Nkosi Sikelel-iAfrika” (the old anthem of the freedom movement) and the blacks sing “Die Stem” (the old anthem of the Republic). Neither group knows the words of the anthem they once despised, yet both join in. This beautiful exchange shows the spirit of reconciliation that Mandela wanted for the new South Africa — old enemies now sharing each other’s songs.

Mandela reflects on the cost of freedom

On this day of triumph, Mandela’s thoughts turn to history. He remembers the countless people who sacrificed their lives so that this day could come. He says he is simply the sum of all those African patriots who had gone before him — he is the product of their struggle. He grieves that he cannot thank them, and that they cannot see what their sacrifices had won. The policy of apartheid, he says, created a deep and lasting wound in his country, but the decades of oppression also produced extraordinary heroes — men of such depth of character, wisdom and generosity that their like may never be seen again.

Two kinds of courage — what prison taught him

Mandela explains what he learned about courage during his long imprisonment. He saw men risk their lives for an idea, and he learned that courage is not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. The brave man, he says, is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear. He also reflects on the nature of hatred. He came to believe that no one is born hating another person because of his skin, background or religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love — for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite. Even in the grimmest prison moments, a flash of humanity in a warder reassured him that man’s goodness can be hidden but never extinguished.

The twin obligations — and the meaning of freedom

Mandela describes how his idea of freedom changed and grew over his life. As a boy in the countryside, freedom simply meant running freely in the fields, swimming in the stream and riding the bulls — freedom seemed to belong to him as long as he obeyed his father and the customs of his tribe. As a young man in Johannesburg, freedom meant the right to achieve his own potential, to earn a living, to marry and have a family. But he slowly realised it was not just his own freedom that was being denied — it was the freedom of all his people. He explains that every man has twin obligations: to his family, parents and wife and children; and to his people, his community and his country. In a civil and humane society a man can meet both. But in South Africa a man of his colour was punished and isolated if he tried to live as a human being. It was this realisation that turned a frightened young man into a bold one, that drove a law-abiding attorney to become a criminal, and that transformed a family-loving husband into a man without a home. He found he could not enjoy the poor and limited freedoms he was allowed when he knew his people were not free.

The oppressor is not free either

Mandela ends with one of his deepest insights. The chains on any of his people are the chains on all of them, and the chains on all his people are the chains on him. He goes further: a man who takes away another man’s freedom is a prisoner of hatred, locked behind the bars of prejudice and narrow-mindedness. The oppressor and the oppressed alike are robbed of their humanity. True freedom, he concludes, means that the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed. A man who takes away another’s freedom is not truly free himself. To be free is not merely to cast off one’s own chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. He says his long walk is not yet over — he has taken only the first steps on a longer road, for with freedom come responsibilities.