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First Edition
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Contents
A Complex Man . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1
2 Be Measured . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37
Contents
Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .241
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Preface
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W
e long for heroes but have too few.
Nelson Mandela is perhaps the last pure
hero on the planet. He is the smiling sym-
bol of sacrifice and rectitude, revered by millions as a liv-
ing saint. But this image is one-dimensional. He would
be the first to tell you that he is far from a saint—and
that is not false modesty.
Nelson Mandela is a man of many contradictions.
He is thick-skinned but easily wounded. He is sensitive
to how others feel but often ignores those closest to him.
He is generous with money but counts his pennies when
giving a tip. He will not step on a cricket or spider but
was the first commander of the African National Con-
gress’s military wing. He is a man of the people but rev-
els in the company of celebrities. He is eager to please
but not afraid to say no. He doesn’t like to take credit,
but will let you know when he should get it. He shakes
the hands of everyone in the kitchen but doesn’t know
all of his bodyguards’ names.
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days, and state trips. I spent hours with him at his home
in Houghton, I traveled with him to his country home
in the Transkei, and went with him to America and Eu-
rope and elsewhere in Africa. I campaigned with him, I
went to negotiation sessions with him, I became, as
much as I could, his shadow. I kept a diary of my time
with him that eventually grew to 120,000 words. Much
of this book comes from those notes.
Anyone who has spent much time with Nelson
Mandela knows that it is not only a great privilege but a
great pleasure. His presence is golden, luminous. You
feel a little taller, a little finer. Most of the time, he is up-
beat, confident, generous, fun. Even when the weight of
the world was on his shoulders, he would wear it lightly.
When you are with him, you feel you are living history
as it is being made. He let me inside much of his life,
some of his thoughts, and a little bit of his heart. He be-
came the man who urged me to marry the South
African woman who became my wife, and he eventually
became godfather to my first son. I loved him. He was
the cause of so many of the best things that have hap-
pened in my own life. When I left his side when the
book was finally completed, it was like the sun going out
of my life. We have seen each other many times over
the years, and he has spent time with my two boys, who
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past, but he rarely talks about it. There was only one mo-
ment of self-pity I ever saw. We were talking about his
childhood, and he looked off into the distance and said,
“I am an old man who can only live in the past.” And this
was at a time when he was getting ready to be president
of the new South Africa and create a new nation—the
moment of his greatest triumph.
Over and over, though, I used to ask him how prison
had changed him. How was the man who came out in
1990 different from the man who entered in 1962?
This question annoyed him. He either ignored it, went
straight to a policy answer, or denied the premise. Fi-
nally, one day, he said to me in exasperation, “I came out
mature.”
I came out mature.
What did he mean by those words? André Malraux
wrote in his memoirs that the rarest thing in the world is
a mature man. Mandela would agree with him. To me,
those four words are the deepest clue to who Nelson
Mandela is and what he learned. Because that sensitive,
emotional young man did not go away. He is still inside
the Nelson Mandela we see today. By maturity, he meant
that he learned to control those more youthful impulses,
not that he was no longer stung or hurt or angry. It is not
that you always know what to do or how to do it, it is
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that you are able to tamp down the emotions and anxi-
eties that get in the way of seeing the world as it is. You
can see through them, and that will see you through.
At the same time, he realized that not everyone can
be Nelson Mandela. Prison steeled him but it broke
many others. Understanding that made him more empa-
thetic, not less. He never lorded it over those who could
not take it. He never blamed anyone for giving in. Sur-
rendering was only human. Over the years, he developed
a radar and a deep sympathy for human frailty. In some
way, he was fighting for the right of every human being
not to be treated the way he had been. He never lost that
young man’s softness or sensitivity; he just developed a
harder and more invulnerable shell to protect it.
It is impossible to write about Nelson Mandela
these days and not compare him to another potentially
transformational black leader, Barack Obama. The par-
allels are many. I went to see Mandela during the Demo-
cratic presidential primaries in 2008 and asked him
whom he preferred, Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama.
He smiled and then waved a finger at me in the univer-
sal gesture of, You’re trying to get me in trouble. He
would not answer. His restraint was characteristic.
That self-control, that omnipresent filter, is some-
thing the two men share. And while it took twenty-
seven years in prison to mold the Nelson Mandela we
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