Mandela: more earthly than heavenly

Masi Noor, a psychologist researching forgiveness, considers the nature of  Nelson Mandela’s main achievement and argues that it is something to which we can all aspire.

Love your enemy? Easier said than done.
Photo: World Economic Forum

Death unites people. Mandela’s departure has certainly done so. In the wake of the storm of the public messages, obituaries, tweets and blogs I wonder though, if something profound may be missing and potentially trivialising of Mandela’s character and legacy.

The dominant theme is one of veneration. This is unsurprising given Mandela’s achievements. But to canonise him as a super-human is to close the door to him as a source of inspiration to us and in the realm of the small and the ordinary. History is full of such deified Mandelas. Sometimes they are called Buddha, Jesus, Einstein, Mary, Mohammed or Maslow. Whatever the name, they remain inaccessible to most of us, so that their lifetime achievements eventually dissolve into mystery. The possibility of emulation becomes extinct.  This would be tragically counter-Mandelan.

By his own admission, Mandela never had an epiphany moment. Instead, he was ordinary, struggled to sustain romantic love and to find ways to remain human within Apartheid’s dehumanising context (and almost 30 years in prison). At times he was angry, stubborn, fragile and unsuccessful in his pursuits of his academic studies. At other times, he was a shrewd strategist who knew when to boycott, when to use threat of militancy and when to offer personal forgiveness. And sometimes he got all of them wrong. I’d suggest that this not only made him the Mandela we idolise, but more importantly someone we can emulate.

A just world

John McGowan

Make sure you get the pieces the same size.
Photo: Klipy Design

‘Daaaaaaad! You let Sam on the computer. IT’S NOT FAIR!’

So goes the soundtrack to the summer holidays. Rather than scrambling to put dinner on the table, get in the washing and manage my job (in half the usual time and without the aid of school) my top priority is to ensure parity between my children. How could I have possibly forgotten? There shouldn’t be a cigarette paper of difference in terms of equality; activities must be balanced for treat-magnitude with the judgement of Solomon. Other than of course the finely calibrated extra privileges that accrue to the my older one as a result of seniority and long service. Long service, you understand, consists of having been demanding for longer and it all counts in the great ledger that I clearly failed to check.

The importance of fairness seems to trump all other considerations, including self-interest. Give Child 1 £1 and she’ll be happy. But if she finds out Child 2 has £1.50 she’ll be angry. Take the money away from both and she’ll be satisfied. Child 1 has lost out but Child 2 has lost more so all’s right with the world. In my frazzled state it can feel like my kids are simply brats who live to make my life difficult. A more considered look at the evidence however tells a different story. Other people’s kids do the same. Always a relief. In fact research suggests that, though they may be more obvious about it, it’s not just children who have a profound (and sometimes self-injurious) aversion to unfairness. Behavioural economists Fehr and Schmidt (1999) have gone as far as to suggest that ‘willingness to sacrifice potential gain to block another individual from receiving a superior reward’ is basic to the human condition.