In history there is the truth and then there is the story. And rarely are they the same thing. But does the truth really matter? Does it matter that this man or that man was fallible? That he made loads of mistakes and was always scared. Or that he went to his grave pissing and shitting himself, his mind gone, his body broken. No, it doesn’t matter an inch. Because the story is where the power lies, where the inspiration comes from.

The story of Nelson Mandela will always be far more powerful than the truth of Nelson Mandela. Of course, like Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, we can poke holes in it. We can find mistakes. We can find human error, selfishness and idiocy. But to do so is to miss the point. In 50 years’ time, when he is gone and many of us are gone, and a kid is wearing a T-shirt with Madiba’s face on it, it will no longer matter. All these spats about whether he did this or that, let this person down or that person down will count for nought. What will matter is the inspiration he gives to that kid. The lessons he teaches future generations. The same as Che. He could have been a prick for all I know but he teaches me that a man with a vision and a couple of friends can achieve a world of change. Done. End of the story.

It is a real post-modern trend to re-examine historical figures and say; ooh, look he was a just person, he made mistakes or was horrible to his wife or nasty to his subordinates or whatever. But so what? I don’t care if Captain Cook went to sea because he didn’t like his missus or Thomas Becket stuttered or that Alexander the Great was gay. They were human, big deal, that is NOT a particularly big insight. All I want is their story. I want the moral of it and how that will improve my life. The rest of it, the so-called truth is the same as every human’s story. They came into this world insecure, slightly bent, slightly twisted, a bit shit at some things and better at other things.

Some will argue that by reducing our heroes to mere mortals we are somehow making them greater men. That by reminding ourselves they are human they will become better heroes. But the problem is that when we set out to make them human, we do just that. We remove the magic. We take away all the shine and make them just another schmo stumbling through the dark. Well I, for one, don’t want Nelson Mandela the man. I want Madiba the story.

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  • David Smith is a world famous artist and a British Olympic hammer thrower. He is a curler for Scotland and Manitoba. A pro wrestler fondly known as the British Bulldog. A Canadian economist and a Mormon missionary they call the Sweet Singer of Israel. He is a British historian and a bishop. David Smith is the biographer of HG Wells, a professor of physics, a composer and a music teacher at Yale. He played rugby for Samoa, England and New Zealand. He created the Melissa worm, a deadly computer virus. He is the Guardian's man in Africa, he starred in a reality TV show and shot his way to silver in the 600m military rifle prone position at the 1920 Summer Olympics in Antwerp. But this isn't that David Smith. This is the blog of the other David Smith. David J Smith. The one from Durban by the Sea. The one who lives in Amsterdam. Yes, him. The David Smith who likes to write about himself in the third person. To learn about all the other David Smiths: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Smith To contact this David Smith: [email protected]

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David J Smith

David Smith is a world famous artist and a British Olympic hammer thrower. He is a curler for Scotland and Manitoba. A pro wrestler fondly known as the British Bulldog. A Canadian economist and a Mormon...

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