Desmond Tutu -- archbishop sans frontieres

Two recent events have drawn my attention to Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu. Did I say two? Maybe three. Or four. The first was his announcement that he would retire after his looming 79th birthday — on October 7. The second is linked with an excellent doctoral thesis — based on virtually everything ever published by or on Tutu — exploring his understanding of community, which I read recently. Did you see him clad in Bafana colours having a ball at the opening match of the Fifa 2010 World Cup? Much has been written and said about Tutu. What more can be said, we may wonder? A lot more can and should be said about this special person.

Mark Gevisser — the Mbeki biographer — once called Tutu the nation’s “naughty uncle”. In the instance in question, Gevisser was contrasting the stern demeanour of Nelson Mandela with what he characterised as the “naughtiness” of Tutu. But naughtiness and mischief are not the character traits I would associate with Desmond Tutu — even in jest and even with the benefit of poetic licence. Before Tutu was Tutu (as he has come to be known today) he was in the business of serving the poor, promoting justice, defending the marginalised and struggling for the restoration of human dignity to all.

Several things characterise Tutu for me.

He is a staunch believer in and defender of the humanity of humans. If ever someone tries always to reach out to the human core in the perpetrator and victim, the insider and outsider, men and women, black and white — that person is Desmond Tutu. Apparently in a meeting with apartheid leader PW Botha, Tutu to the surprise of members of his delegation, switched from political speak and spoke to Botha not merely as president of an illegitimate and increasingly violent apartheid state, but as a father, husband and a grandfather. Similarly, when the hideous and reprehensible practice of “necklacing” sell-outs reared its ugly head, Tutu appealed to the humanity of victims turned into perpetrators. This same belief in the human core inside every human being will help us understand (not necessarily accept) some of the controversial recommendations and actions of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission which Tutu headed.

I want to suggest that his brilliant story-telling techniques and his legendary sense of humour are part of his relentless pursuit of the human core hidden inside the souls of members of his audience. Tutu is no frivolous stand-up comedian, he is a dead-serious teacher, preacher and advocate seeking to influence the behaviour of his audience, not merely to make them laugh. All his jokes and all his stories have the proverbial “sting in the tail”. Indeed, most of the jokes are about Tutu himself — showing us just how human he is and inviting us to join him in being human. But behind the legendary performances of Tutu, there is more than an activist. There is a radical thinker, theologian and an engaging social theorist.

But Tutu is neither a “softy” nor an arm-chair philosopher. The South Africa of the 70s and 80s was no place for sissies. This was the South Africa that slaughtered Steve Biko and dozens others. It was the South Africa of the endless string of “state of emergency” declarations. In the face of very real death threats and in the face of a hostile local media, Tutu spoke out in defence of the black poor. He became the most effective and most well-known sanctions campaigner against the apartheid regime — at a time when it was most unpopular to do this.

Inspired by his faith, Tutu has always emphasised the need for the liberation struggle to be waged on moral principles, using moral methods for equally moral ends. For this reason he navigated the seemingly contradictory positions of supporting the liberation movements while condemning the use of violence in pursuit of liberation. Believing politics to be too important to be left to politicians, he has nevertheless eschewed becoming a politician himself.

A gifted orator, and a fierce debater, the sheer force and confidence with which he expresses his convictions and views, has often lead, from detractors and colleagues alike, to mistakenly accuse Tutu of arrogance and showmanship. Combined with his penchant to be afraid of no one has led Tutu to cross swords with powerful people and institutions at home and abroad, both during and after apartheid. When Nelson Mandela and Graça Machel became an item but apparently in no real hurry to tie the knot — Desmond came out and urged them to do the honourable thing. Thabo Mbeki often resorted to reminding Tutu that he was not a member of the ANC — as if that would be reason enough for Tutu to stop speaking out on the wrongs he saw.

One of the proudest moments in my life, was when I was asked to deliver the Annual Desmond Tutu Memorial Lecture at the University of Western Cape, two years ago. The real reason I agreed to do it was to spend an evening with Tutu. And what an evening it was!

Yet it would be wrong to portray Tutu as a latter-day “action hero” who single-handedly and heroically defeated the “forces of darkness”. The truth is that Tutu is a product of a heroic and resilient people. He is born out of the South African struggle of liberation. He is a product of the church — local and global. Without the people, the struggle and the church there would be no Desmond Tutu as we have come to know him. His story cannot be only about him as an individual. Indeed his story is the story of his immediate family, especially his wife and children.

Another grievous mistake would be to pretend that Tutu is only and merely a South African. He is the definitive global citizen who has tirelessly fought for the powerless and excluded not just in South Africa but everywhere. Name a worthy cause from anywhere in the world, Desmond Tutu has been there to support it. He was and remains the archbishop without province, without diocese and without borders. Retirement is something he has been threatening for the past 15 years. Will he really retire this time around? For his and our sake, I hope he does.