§ 4 The Laws of Reflection:

Nelson Mandela, in Admiration

Admirable Mandela. Period, no exclamation. I am not using this punctuation to moderate

my enthusiasm or to quell my fervor. Instead of speaking only in honor of Nelson Mandela, I will say something about his honor without succumb­ing, if this is possible, to loftiness, without proclaiming or acclaiming.

The homage will perhaps be more just, as will its tone, if it seems to surrender its impatience-without which there would be no question of admiring-to the coldness of an analysis. Admiration reasons, despite whar people say; it works things out with reason; it astonishes and inter­rogates: how can one be Mandela? Why does he seem exemplary-and admirable in what he thinks and says, in what he does or in what he suf­fers? Admirable in himself. as well as for what he conveys in his testimony,

another word for marryrdom, namely, the experience of his people? "My people and I," he always says, without speaking like a king. Why does he also force one to admire him? This word presupposes some

resistance, for his enemies admire him without admitting it. Unlike those who love him among his people and along with his inseparable Winnie, from whom they have always kept him separated in vain, these enemies

This essay was firs< published in POllr Nelson Mandtla ("Quinze ccrivains sal,,­rill Nelson Mandela or Ie combar dont sa vie porre ",moignage [Fifreen wrirers A"llIll' Nelson Mandela and rhe fight to which his life bears witness]" (Paris: GaI­lilllard. I'JH6) . I thank Antoine Gallimard for permission to reprint it here.

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fea r him. If his mast hateful persecutors secredy admi re him, this proves Ihat, as one says, he compels ad miration.

So, this is the question: where does this force come from ? Where does it lead? For what is it used, Or to what is it applied? Or rather: what does it cause to fold' What form is to be recognized in this fold? W hat line?

First of all we wi U see there, and let us say ir withour further premise, the line of a reflection. It is first of all a force of reflection. What is obvi­OliS right away is that Mandela's political experience o r passion can never he separated fro m a theoretical reflection: on history, culture, and above all, law. An unremitting analysis enlightens the rationality of his acts, his demonstrations, his speeches, his strategy. Even before being constra ined to withdraw (au repl,] by prison-and during a quarter century of incar­ceration, he has not ceased to act and direcr the struggle-Mandela has always been a man of reflecrion. Like all great politicians.

But in "force of reflection" there is somerhing else that can be heard , something that signals toward the li terality of the mirror and the scene of speculation. Not so much toward the physical laws of reflection as toward specular paradoxes in the experience of rhe law. There is no law without mirror. And in this properly reversible structure, we will never avoid the moment of admiration.

Admiration, as its name indicates, one will say, and so on. No, no mat­tcr whar irs name or the fact thar it always enables us ro see, admi ration tloc., not only belong to sight. It translates emotion , asto nishmenr, sur­prise, interrogation in the face of what oversteps Ihe measure: in the face of the "exrraordinary," says Descanes, and he considers it a passion, the lim of the six primitive passions, before love, hare, desire, joy, and sad­neSS. It enables understanding. Outside of it, there is only ignorance, he ~dds, and in it resides "a great deal of force" of "surprise" or of "sudden 'lI'rivallflrrivement mbitl ." The admiring look is astonished; ir questions it., illluilin,,; ir opens ilself to the light of a question, but of a question rcaived "n less rhan asked. This experience lets irself be traversed by rhe ray or a tl"esrion, which in no way prevents its reflection. The ray comes fronl Iht· very thing that forces admiration; it thus splits admiration into ~ ' I"'ndar Illowmenr that seems srrangely fascina ring.

Mandda hecomes admirable for baving known bow to admire. And whal Itt' Itas leartll·d, he has lea rned in admiration. He fascinales toO, as WI' .hall "'t', Ii' r having heen r:lscinaled.

III a 'tTlain way Ihal Wt' will have In undersrand , he sap this. He say.

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what he does and what has happened to him . Such a ligh t, its reRected passage, experience as the departure- return of a question, would thus also be the eruption [kim] o f a voice.

Nelson Mandela's voice- what does it evoke, ask, enjoin? What would it have to do with sight, reRection, admiration, I mean the energy of this voice bur also of what sings in its name? (hear the clamor of his people when this people demonstrates in his name: Man-de-la!).

Admiration of Nclson Mandela, as we might say the passion of Nclson Mandela. Admiration of Mandela, a double genitive: the one he inspires and the one he feels. The tWO have the same foc us, they arc reRected in it. I have already stated my hypothes is: he becomes admirable for having admired , with all his st rength , and for having made a force of his admira­tion-an inAexible and irreducible fi ghting power. T he law itself, the law above o ther laws.

For in fac t what has he admired? [n o ne word: the Law. And what inscribes it in d iscourse, in history, in the instiwtion, namely,

Right. A first quotarion-a lawyer is speaking, d uring a trial, his trial, the one

where he is also prosecuting, the one in which he prosecutes those who accuse him, in the name of the law:

The basic task at the presenr mo menc is the removal of race discrimination and the attai nmem of democraric rights on the basis of the [o reedom Char­ter . . .. From my readi ng of Marx ist lirera<ure and from conversations with Marx ists, [ have gained the impression rhat communists rega rd the parlia­mentary system of rhe Wesr as undemocratic and reactionary. But, on the contrary, I tim an admirer of such a system.

T he Maglla Carta, the Perit ion of Rights, and the Bill of Rights arc docu­ments which arc held in veneration by democrats throughout the world.

I bave [,elll mp"t fo r Bri tish political institu tions, and for the country's system of justice. I regard the British Parliament as the most democratic in ­stitut ion in the world, and the independence and impartial ity of its judiciary never fail ro Ilrous~ Illy admiration. '

He adm ires the law, he says it clearly, but is this law, which com mands wnsriturions and declarations, essentially a th ing of the West? Does its formal universali ty retain some irred ucible link with European or even An!\lo-Amcrican hisro ry? If it were so, we would of course still have to "lInsider Ihis strange I'0ss ihili ty: that irs fo rmal cha racter would be as es­.<clllia l lO till' 1IIliv"rsa liIY of th,' law as Ihe ,'v,' Il ! of irs presenrarion in a

66 The Laws of Reflection

determined moment and place in hisrory. How could we conceive of such a hisrory? The Struggle against apartheid, wherever it takes place and such as Mandela carries it on and reHects it, would this remain a sort of specu­lar opposition, an internal war (har rhe West would maintain in irself, in its own name? An internal comrad icrion thar would suffer neirher radical alrcriry nor rrue dissymmetry?

In this form , such a hypothesis still implies roo many indistincr presup­posirions. We will try to identifY them later on. For rhe moment, let us retain an obvious, more limired but also morc certain fact: whar Mandela admires and says he admires is the tradition inaugurated by rhe Magna Carta. rhe Universal Declaration of the Righrs of Man in irs different limns (he frequendy appeals ro "me digniry of man." ro man "worthy of Ihe name"); it is also parliamentary democracy and, srill more precisely. Ihe doctrine of me separation of powers, (he independence of justice.

Bur if he admires this rradition , does ir mean rhat he is irs heir, its .~imple heir? Yes and no, depending on whar is meant here by inherirance. One can recognize an authentic heir in the one who conserves and repro­duces. but also in the one who respects the logic of the legacy even to the poilll of turning it on occasion against those who claim ro be its guard­ians. ro the poine of reveal ing. against the usurpers, what has never been ~Wl in the inheritance: ro the point of giving birth, by me unheard-of act "f ;1 reRection, to what had never seen the light of day.

2.

This inAexible logic of re.flection was also Mandela's practice. Here are ~I leasl IWo signs of it.

I . first sil('l. The African National Congress, of which he was one of the leaders afler having joined it in 1944, succeeded the South African Na-1i"";11 ( :ungrcss. Now, the structure of the latter already reRected mat of Ihe AI11l'CiCII1 Congress and the House of Lords. Ir included in particular .1 lligh (:hamber. The paradigm was thus already the parliamentary de­IllIllTa,"y Iha! Mandela admired. The Freedom Charter, which he promul­galed in 195\. also enunciates those democratic principles inspired by the llnivt"rsal /)" ci:t rmion of the Rights of Man. And yet, with an exemplary rigur. Mandda none!heless refuses a pure and simple alliance with the Iilwral whilt·, who want to mailllain the struggle within the constitutional franl(·wllrk. '1I,'h OIl lea.'! as il was established then. Indeed. Mandela re-

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calls a [ruth: the establishment of this constitutional law had not only, in fact and as always, taken the form of a singular coup de force, the violent acr rhar both produces and presupposes the unity of a nation. In this case, the coup de force remailled a coup de force, thus, a bad blow [coup)-the failure of a law that is unable to esrablish itself. Irs authors and beneficia­ries were only rhe particular wills of a part of the population, a limited number of private interests, those of rhe white minority. The latter be­comes the privileged subject, indeed rhe only subject of this amiconstiru­tional constitution. In facr. one might say that such a coup de force always marks the advent of a nation. state, or nation-state. The properly pl1jiJr­malive act of such an institution must in effect produce (proclaim) that which it claims. declares. assures it is describing according to a comtative act. The simulacrum or fiction then consists in bringing to the lighr of day. in giving birth to. that which one daims to reflect so as to take nore of it [en prendre acre), as though ir were a matter of recording whar will have been there. the unity of a narion. the founding of a stare. whereas one is in the act of producing that event. But legirimacy. indeed legality, becomes permanently installed; it recovers its originary violence. and is forgotten only on certain condirions. Not all performatives. a theoretician of speech acts would say, are "felicitous." That depends on a great number of condi­tions and conventions thar form rhe context of such events. In rhe case of South Africa. certain "conventions" were not respected, the violence was too great, visibly too great. at a moment when rhis visibility extended to a new internarional scene. and so on. The white community was too much in the minority. the disproportion of wealth too Aagranr. From then on this violence remains borh excessive and powerless. insufficient in itS resulr, lost in its own contradiction. It cannot be forgotten. as in the case of srates founded on genocide or quasi-extermination. Here. the violence of origin must repeat itself indefinircly and imitare right in a legislative apparatus whose monsrrosity fails to allay suspicion: a pathological prolif­eration of juridical prostheses (laws. actS. amendments) destined to legal­ize down to the smallest derail rhe most everyday effecrs of fundamental racism. of a srare racism. rhe only and lasr state racism in the world.

The consri£l1tion of such a state cannot. then. refer to the popular will with enough verisimilitude. As the Freedom Chaner recalls: "South Africa helongs to all its inhabitants. black and white. No government can prevail nvt'r an aurhority that is nOt founded on the will of the entire nation." Rcf':rring to tht' gt'ncral will. which .:;mnnt be reduced to the sum of the

68 Th( Laws of Reflection

wills of me "entire nation," Mandela often reminds us of Rousseau , even if he never quotes him. And he thus contests the authority, the legali ty, the constitutional ity of me constitution. He refuses the proposal of-and the alliance wim-me white libetals who would struggle against apartheid and yet claim to respect the legal framework: "The credo of the liber­als consists in 'the use of democratic and constitutional means, rejecting the different forms of totali tarianism: fascism and communism.' Only a people already enjoying democratic and constitutional rights has any grounds for speaking of democratic and constitutional means. This makes no sense for those who do not benefit from them. "2

What does Mandela oppose to me coup d( force of me white minority that has instituted a supposedly democratic law to the advantage of a sin­gle ethnonarional entity? T he "entire narion," that is to say, another eth-1I0national entity, another popular collectivity formed of all the groups, including the white minority, that inhabits the territoty named South Africa. This other entity could not have instituted nor in the future will it he able to institute itself as the subject of the state or of rhe consritution of "Soum Africa" except by a performative act . And the latter will not ap­pear to refer to any prior, fundamental law, but only to the "convention" of a geographic and demographic division [dicoupageJ effected, in large measure, by white colonization. This fact cannot be erased. T he will of the "entire nation ," or at least the general wi ll , should of course exclude all empirica l determination. Such is at leasr its regulative ideal. And it ~eellls no more attainable here than elsewhere. The definition of the "en­I ire lIation" registers-and thus seems to reRect- rhe event of the coup de lim', that was white occupation, followed by the founding of the Soum Afri,an Republic. Wimout this event, how could we see even the slightest rel ,"ionship between a general will and what the Freedom Charter calls dIe "will of the entire nation"? T he latter finds irself paradoxically united hy dIe violence done to it, which tends to disintegrate or to desrructure it lim'vl'r, down to its most vinual identity. T his phenomenon marks the es­lahlishment of almosr all states after decolonization. Mande.la knows thar: 11 11 mattcr how democratic it is, and even if it seems to conform to the prilll'iplc of the equality of all before the law, the absolute establishment Ill' aSia", " "11101 presuppose the previously legitimized existence of a na­lillllal entilY. Thc samc is true for a first constitution. T he total unity of a prlll'll' l'all ollly he ilk,ntilied for the lirst time by contract-whether for-111011 or lUll , Wl'iliCII or lIol-that institutes somc fundamental law. Now

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this contract is never signed, in fact, except by the supposed represen­tatives of the supposedly "entire" people. This fundamental law cannot, either by right or in fact, simply precede that which at once institutes it and yet presupposes it: projects it and reflects ir! lr can in no way precede this extraordinary performative by which a signature authorizes itself to sign , in a word, legalizes itsel f on irs own initiarive [de son propre cbif) without the guarantee of a preexisting law. This aurographic violence and fiction are to be found at work just as surely in what we call individual autobiography as in the "histo rical" origin of states. In the case of South Africa, the fi ctio n lies in this-and it is fiction against fiction: the uniry of the "entire nation" could not correspond to the division effected by the white minority. It should now constitute a whole (the white minority + all the inhabitants of "South Africa") whose configuration was only estab­lished, or in any case identified, on the basis of minority violence. That such a unity might then oppose this vio lence changes nothing about this implacable contradiction. The "entire nation," a unity of "all the national groups," will grant itself existence and legal force on ly by the very same act to which the Freedom Charter appeals. This Charter speaks in the present, a present that one supposes to be founded on the description of

a past given that should be recognized in the future; and it also speaks in the future, a future that has the value of a prescription:

South Africa belongs to all its inhabitants, black and white. No government can prevai l over an authority that is nOt founded on the will of the entire na­[ion. - The people will govern. - All the national groups will enjoy equal rights . .. . - All will be equal before the law.'

The Charter docs not annul the founding act of the law, an act that is necessarily a-legal in itself, which finally institutes South Africa and can only become legal afterward, in particular if it is ratified by the law of the international community. No, the C harter refounds it, or in any case in­tends to refound it, by reflecting, against the white minority, the principles hy which it claimed to be inspired , whereas in foct it never ceased to be­[ray [hem. Democracy, yes, South Africa yes, but this time, says the Char­[cr. [he "entire nation" must include all the national groups, such is the very logic of the law to which the white minority claimed to appeal. On [he l~rrilUry thus delimited , all human hcings, all human beings "worthy lit" tiw 1I:1I1W ."· will tiWII dl"niveiy b~U)lllC thc suhjccts of law.

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2. Second sign. The declared "admiration" for the model of parliamen­tary democracy of the Anglo-American kind and for rhe separari on of powers, me fa ithfulness of the C harrer co all the principles of such a de­mocracy, the logic of a radicalization that oppo es m ese very principles co me Western defenders of apartheid, all of this migh r seem co resemble rhe coup de force of a simple specular inversion: thc srruggle of the "black" communiry (of non-"whire" communiries) would be undertaken in rhe name of an imporred law and model-a law and model thar were be­rrayed, in rhe firsr place, by rheir firsr imporrers. A rerri fyi ng dissymme­rry. Bur ir seems co reduce irself, or rarher co reRecr irself co rhe poinr of withdrawing from every objecrive represenration: neimer sym merry nor dissymmerry. This is because rhere would be no imporration, no simply assignable origin for rhe hiscory of law, only a reHecring apparatus, wirh projecrions of images, inversions of rrajeccories, mises en abfme, effecrs of hisrory for a law whose srructure and whose "hiscory" consisr in carrying off [emporurl rhe origin. Such an apparatus- and by rhis word I only mean rhar mis X is nor narural (which does nor necessarily define ir as an artifacr broughr forrh by human hands)-cannot be represenred in oojecrive space. For at least two reasons rhar I will relate co rhe case thar concerns us here.

A. The first reason concerns rhe SfIuCture of the law, of the principle, or the model being considered. Whatever the hiscorical place of irs forma­tillll nr formulation, of its revelation or presenration, a structure of rhis kind tends coward universaliry. Here we have, as ir were, irs inrenrional nlntt'nr : its meaning requires rhar it immediarely exceed the hiscorical, national . geographical, linguistic, and culturallimi rs of irs phenomenal mil(in . Everything should begin wirh uprooring. The limi rs would rhen "1'1'~ar til be empirical conringencies. T hey mighr even dissimulate what, it St·<"IllS. they let appear. Thus one might think that the "white minoriry" III" SlIuth Africa occults me essence of rhe principles co which it claims co "1'1',.,,1; it privarizes rhem, parricularizes mem, appropriates them, and in this w"y subjects rhem co rhe inspecrion of reason [les arraisonnel againsr rlwir vt'ry reason for being, against reason irsclf. Whereas, in the suuggle ,,!(ainst apartheid, rhe "reRecrion" of which we are speaking here makes visihit· what was no longer even visible in me political phenomenality c1ol1linatnl hy whites. Ir obliges us co see whar was no longer seen or was 11111 y,·t to Ill" St·cn. It tries ro open the eyes of whires; it does not repro­<111"" rI,,' visihlt-. it produ(,"s it. T his reRection makes visihle a law that

The Laws of Reflection 71

in truth it does more than reflect, because this law, in its phenomenon, was invisible: had become invisible or was still invisible. By bringing the invisible into the visible, this reflection does nOt proceed from the visible; rather it passes through understanding. More precisely, it gives us ro un­derstand what exceeds understanding and accords only with reason. This was a first reason, reason itself.

B. The second reason seems more problematic. It concerns precisely this phenomenal apparition, the historical constitution of the law, of democratic principles, and of the democratic model. H ere again, the ex­perience of declared admiration, this time of an admiration that is also said to be foscinated, follows the fold of a reAection. Always a reAection on the law: Mandela perceives, he sees, others might say that he projects and reflects without seeing, the very ptesence of this law inside African society. Even before "the arrival of the white man ."

In what he himself says about this subject, I will underline three mo­tifs:

(a) that of fascination: fixed attention of the gaze rransfixed, as if perri­fied by something that, without being sim ply a visible object, looks at you, already concerns you, understands you, and orders you to continue to observe, to respond , to make yourself responsible for the gaze that gazes at you and calls you beyo nd the visible: neither perception nor hal ­lucination;

(b) that of the seed: it furnishes an indispensable schema for interprera­tion. It is o n account of its vircualiry that the democrati c model would have been present in the sociery of ancestors, even if ir was nor to be revealed, developed as such (or reAection , until afterward, after the violent irruption of the "white man," the bearer of the same model ;

(c) that of the South African homeland [patrie], the birthplace of all the national groups called upon to live under the law of the new South Afri­can Republic. This homeland is nOf to be confused either with the state nr with the nation:

Many years ago, when I was a boy brought up in my village in the Transkei, I listened to the elders of the tribe tel ling stories abour the good old days, I,,!orr tb, arriv/II of ,b, white man. Then our people lived peacefully, under I he "mwemtic rule of thei r kings and thei r amapakati, and moved freely and wllfidclltly lip and down rhe COll ntry without let or hindrance. Then the rtHlIHI')' wa." ours . . . . I hoped and vowed rhen that. amo ng [he treasures [hat

72 The Laws of Reflection

life might offer me, would be the opportunity to serve my people and make my own humble contribution to their freedom struggles.

The structure and organization of early African societies in this coulllry fascinated me very much and greatly inAuenccd the evolution of my politi­cal outlook. The land, then the main means of production, belonged to the whole tribe, and there was no individual ownership whatsoever. There were no classes, no rich or poor, and no exploitation of man by man. All men were free and equal and this was the foundation of government. Recognition of this general principle found expression in the consrirution of the council. . . .

There was much in such a society that was primitive and insecure and it certainly could never measure up to the demands of the present epoch. But in such a society are contained th.IUds of a Y(Vo/utioflary demorral)' in which none will be held in slavery or servitude, and in which poverty, want, and insecurity shall be no more. (149-50)

It is common knowledge that the conference decided that, in place of the IInilateral proclamation of a republic by the white minority of South Africans nnly, it would demand in the name of the African people the calling of a truly national convention representative of all South Africans, irrespective of their <nlor, black and white, to sit amicably round a table, to debate a new conSti­nllion for South Africa, which was in essence what the government was doing hy the proclamation of a republic, and furthermore, to press on behalf of the African people, that such a new constitution should differ from the consti­IlItion of the proposed South African Republic by guaranteeing democratic rilllllS on a basis of full equality to all SOUlh Africans of adult age. (148)

What fascination seems to bri ng into view here, what mobilizes and

illllllllhilizcs Mandela's anention, is nO! o nly parliam entary democracy,

whlls,' principle presents itSelf for example but not exemplarily in the West.

h is dll" IIlready virtually accomplished passage, if one can say this, from plirlialllcnrary democracy to revolutionary democracy: a sociery without

d 'lss alld without private property. We have just encountered, then, a

.'lIpl'lclllentary paradox: the effictive accomplishmem, the fulfillment of die dl"ll\()ctoltic form , the real determination of the formality, will only hl/llr II/lim piau in th e past of this non-Western society, in the form [SOItS

IrsphrJ "f virtualiry, in other words, of "seeds." Mandela lets himself be

/Ii.rrilltllrtlhy what he sees being reRected in advance, by what is not yet to

he seell, wh,\! he fore-sees: the properly revolutionary democracy of which

Ihe Allf;lo-Alllericall West, in sum, would have delivered only an incom-

1'1"1", lim11a!. 1/fIt! Ihlls IIU" potential image. Potentiality against po temial­

ilY. I'nwn allaillSl I'"Wl"f. For if he "admires" the parliamentary systems

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of the mOSt Western West, he also declares his "admiration," and this is still his word , always the same word, for the "structure and organization of early African societ ies in this country." It is a question of "seed" and of preformation, accordi ng to the same logic or rhe same rhetoric, a sort of genoptics. The figures of African society prefigute; they give one to see in advance what st ill remains invisible in its histotical phenomenon, that is to say, the "classless" society and the end of the "exploitation of man by man": "Today I am attracted by the idea of a classless society, an at­(raction that springs in part from Marxist reading and, in part, from my admiration of the structure and organization of early African societies in this country. The land, then the main means of production, belonged to the tribe. There were no rich or poor, and there was no exploitation of ma.n by man" (150).

3

I n all the senses of this term, Mandela remains, then, a man of law. He has always appealed to right even if, in appearance, he had to oppose him­self to this or that determinate legality, and even if certain judges made of him, at certai n moments, an outlaw.

A man oflaw, he was this first by vocation. On the one hand. he always appeals to tl,e law. On the other hand, he was always attracted. caJIed by the law befo re which he was asked to appear. He accepted moreover to appear before the law, even if he was also forced to do so. He seized the occasion. not to say the chance. Why chance? Let us reread his "defense," wh ich is in truth an indictment. We will find in it a political autobiogra­phy. his own and that of his people. indissociably. The "I" of this auto­biography founds itself and justifies itsel f, reasons and signs in (he name of "we." H e always says "my people," as we have already noted. especiaUy when he raises the question of the subject responsible before the law:

1 am charged with inciting people to commit an offence by way of protest agai nst the law. a law that neilher I nor any of my people had any say in preparing. T he law against which the protest was directed is the law which established a republic in lhe Union of Soulh Africa . . .. Bur in weighing up the decision as to the senlence which is to be imposed for such an offence. Chl' court must take in ro accounr lhe question of responsibility, whether it is I who 3m fl·sponsihle or whether. in fac r. a large measure of the rcsponsibiliry dOt'S 110t lil' on lilt., ,11OlIlc.lc.:rs of (he govc,,'rnl11cnr which promulga[cd thar law,

74 The Laws of Reflection

knowing that my people. who constitute the majority of the population of this countty. were opposed to that law. and knowing further that every legal means of demonstrating that opposition had been closed to them by prior legislation. and by government admi nistrative action. (148)

Thus he himself presenrs himself. He presents himself, himself in his people. before the law. Before a law he impugns. cenainly. bur rhar he impugns in rhe name of a higher law. rhe one he declares ro admire and hefore which he agrees to appMr. In such a presenrarion of self, he jusrifies himself by gathering his hisrory-thar he reflecrs in a single focal point. a ~ingle and double focal po inr. his hisrory and rhar of his people. Ap­pearance: they appear rogerher. he gathers himself by appearing before Ihe law that he summons as much as he is summoned by ir. Bur he does nor presenr himself in view of a jusrificarion that would follow. The self­presenration is not in the service of law; ir is nor a means. The unfolding of rhis history is a Justification; ir is possible and has meaning only before Ihe law. He only is whar he is, Nelson Mandela. he and his people. he has presence only in this movement of justice.

Memories and confessions of an atrorney-advocate. The advocate "avows" a fault from rhe poinr of view of legality. even as he justifies it.

~ven [() the poinr of assuming it proudly. Taking as his witness humanity ~N " whole. he addresses himself ro the universal justice over rhe heads of thCls~ who are but his judges for a day. Whence this paradox: one can per­l'("iv~ a sort of joyous trembling in the narrarive of this martyrdom. And "I limeN one can make our the inflexion of Rousseau in these confessions. ~ v"kc Ihat never ceases ro appeal ro the voice of conscience. ro rhe imme­"i"l~ and unfailing fecling of jusrice. ro rh is law of laws that speaks in us hdi,r,· us hecause ir is inscribed in our heart. In the same tradirion . ir is "I", Ih,· place of a caregorical imperative. of a morality incommensurate wilh Ih,' hyporheses and condirional srraregies of inreresr. as ir is wi rh rhe lil\lII"cs "f Ihis or rh ar civil law:

I "" nlll believe. Your Worsh ip. that this COUrt . in inAicting penalries on me Ii" .h,· crime, for which I am convicted. should be moved by the belief rhar p<"nalc i,'" J"lt'r men from rhe course thaI they believe is right. Hisroty shows Ihall'wald,'s do 11m J eter men when their conscitnuis aroused, (158)

Wh;Hl'Vl"r Sl'ntt'lll'f,,' Your Worship sees fir ro impose upon me for rhe crime li.r whit-I. I haV<' bt" 'n cullvi"eJ before this COUrt. may it rest assured thaI wl,,'n Illy ," 'nll'lln' has bn'n mmpk.eu, I wili sti li be moved, as men are al-

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ways moved, by their comcienw; I will still be moved by my dislike of the race discrimination against my people when I come OUt fro m serving my sentence, to rake Up again, as besr I can, the srruggle for the removal of those injustices until they are finally abolished once and for all. (159)

It was an act of defiance of the law. We were aware thar it was, but, never­theless, rhar act had been forced on us against our wishes, and we could do no other than to choose between compliance with the law and compliance with our conscimctJ. (15 1)

[We] were faced with this conflict b~tUJten th~ lAw and ollr conscience. In the face of rhe complete fai lure of the government to heed, to consider, or even to

respond to our seriously proposed objections and our solutions to the forrh­coming republic, what were we to do? Were we to allow the law, which States that you shall not commit an offence by way of protest, to rake irs course and thus betray our conscience? ... [II n such a dilemma, men of honesty, men of purpose, and men of public morality and of conscience can only have one answer. They must follow rhe dictate o/their comcience irrespective of the con­sequences which might overrake them for it. We of the Action Council, and I particularl y, as Secretary, followed Ollr conscimce. (153-54)

Conscience and consciousness of the law, these two make only one. Presentation of oneself and presentation of one's people, these two make only a single history in a single reAection . In both cases, as we have said, a single and double focus . And it is that of admiration, si nce this con­science presents itsel f, gathers itself, collects itself by reRecting itself before the law. That is to say, let us not forget, before what is admirable.

The experience of admiration is also doubly internal. It reAects reflec­tion and draws from it all the strength that it turns against its Western judges. For it proceeds, dramatically, from a double internalization . Man­dela first internalizes, he takes into himself an ideal thought of the law that may appea r to come from the West. Mandela also interiorizes, at the same time, the principle of interiority in the figure that the ChriStian West has given to it. All its traits are to be found in the philosophy, the politics, the right and morality that dominate in Europe: the law of laws resides in the most intimate conscience; we must in the final inStance judge the intention, goodwill, and so on. Before any juridical or political discourse, hefore the texts of positive law, the law speaks in the voice of conscience or is insaibed in the furthest reaches of the heart.

A 111;\11 oflaw by vocation, then , Mandela was also a man oftaw by pro­f~ssion . We know that he firs! studied law on the advice of Walter Sisulu,

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the then secretary of the African National Congress. In particular. it was a

matter of mastering Western law. this weapon to turn against the oppres­sors. The laner misrecognize. in the end. in spite of all their legal ruses.

the true fo rce of a law that they manipulate. violate. and betray. To inscribe himself in the system. and above all in the fac ulty of law.

Mandela takes courses by correspondence. He wants to obtain first a de­

I\ree in lecters. Let us Stress this episode. Since he cannot have immedi­

ale access to direct. "live" exchanges. he has to begin by correspondence. Mandela will complain about this later on. The context will certainly be

different. but it will always be abOUt a politics of voice and writing. of the difT~rence between what is said "aloud" and what is wrinen . between the

"live voice" and "correspondence."

We have been conditioned by the history of White governments in this coun­try to accept the fact that Africans. when they make their demands strongly and powerfully enough to have some chance of success. will be met by force ,md terror on the part of the government. T his is not something we have taught the African people. this is something the African people have learned from their own bilter experience .... Already [1921-231 there are indications in this country that people. my people. Africans. are turning to deliberate acts "f violence and of force against the government. in order to persuade the gov­crnment. in the only language which this government shows. by its behavior. Ihal il understands.

Elsewhere in the world. a court would say co me. "You should have made f<l'rcSl·Ilta<ions to the government.» Th is Court, I am confident. will not say '". n"pfCsentations have been made. by people who have gone before me. dint' and time again. Representations were made in this case by mCj I do Hot Wolll1 agrtin to repeat the experience of those represenrations. The (oun "UHUH l'xpccr a respect for (he process of representation and negoriarion ro ~"'w an"lIlgst the African people. when lhe government shows every day. hy ils .... ,,<lU([. that it despises such processes and frowns upon them and will 11111 illdulge in them. Nor will the court. I bel ieve, say lhat. under the ,iOllllll>lances. my people are condemned forever to say nothing and to do 11I1lhilll\. (oSS-56)

1111 )[(1<- .. 1I0( to hear. nOt to understand. the white government requires tloal ellll" wrill' to ir. But it intends thereby nOt to answer and first of all

l10t III ,,·ad . Mandd. reminds us of the lener that Albert Luthuli . then

thl' p"'si,kllt of th,· ANC, addressed to Prime Minisrer ] . G. Strijdom .

It was .1 1"nl\lhy analysis of Ihe s iruation . accompanied by a req uest for

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a consultatio n. Not the sligh test response. "The standard of behavior of the South African government towards my people, and its aspirations, has not always been what it should have been, and is not always the standard which is to be expected in serious high-level dealings between civilized peoples. C hief Luthuli 's letter was not even favo red wi th the courtesy of an acknowledgment from the Prime M inister's offi ce" (153).

W hi te power does nOt th ink it has to respond , does not hold itself responsible to the black people. The latter can nOt even assure itself, by return mail, by an exchange of words, looks or signs, that any image of it has been formed on the o ther side, an image that might then return to it in some way. For white power does not COntent itself with not answering. It does worse: it does nOt even acknowledge teceipt. After Lu thuli, Man­dela experiences it himsel f. H e has just written to Verwoerd to in fo rm him of a resolution voted on by the Na tional Action Council, of which he is then the secretary. He also requests that a national convention be convoked befo re the deadline determined by the resolution. No answer, no acknowledgment of receipt:

In a civilized counuy one would be ou traged by the fa ilure of the head of government even to tlckllow/,dge ""ipt oj a lefter, or to consider such a rea­sonable request put to him by a broadly reptesentative collection of importan t personali ties and leaders of the most important communi ty of the country. O nce again , government standards in dealing with my people fell below what [he civilized lIIorld would ex peer. No reply, no response whatsoever, was re­ceived to our letter. no indication was even given that ir had received any consideration wha[soever. Here we, the Afri can people, and especially we of [he National Action Council , who had been entrusted with the tremendous mpomibility of safeguarding the interests of the African people, were faced with this cOIlf/ict bttween the law fwd Ollr comcience. (153)

Not to acknowledge rece ipt is to betray the laws of civili ty but first of all those of civilizarion: a primitive behavior, a retu rn to the state of na­ture, a presocial phase, before the law. Why does the government return to th is noncivi lized practice? Because it considers the majori ty of the people, rhe "most important com muni ty," to be noncivilized, before or outside the law. By acting in th is way, by interrupting the correspondence in a lInilat~ ra l fash ion , the wh ite man is no lo nger respecting his own law. He is hl ind to the evidence: a letter received signifies rhat the o ther is appeal-

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ing [0 the law of the community. By scorning his own law, the white man makes law contemptib le:

Perhaps the court will say that despite our human rights to protest. to object. to make ourselves heard, we should stay within the lencr of the law. ) would say. Sir. that it is rhe government, its administration of the law. which brings the inw into such comonpt lind disrepttu that one is no longer concerned in this countty to stay with in the letter of the law. I will illustrate this from my own experience. The Government has used the process oflaw to handicap me, in my personal life. in my career, and in my political work, in a way which is calculated. in my opinion, to bring about comonpt ofth, inw. (156)

This contempt for the law (the symmetrical inverse of the respect for the moral law, as Kant would say: Achtung/Verllchtllll~ is not his, is not Mandela's. By accusing, by responding, by acknowledging receipt, he re­flects . in a sense, the contempt of the whites for their own law. It is always a reAection . Those who, one day, made him an outlaw simply did not have the right: they had already placed themselves outside the law. By Jcscribing his own outlaw condition, Mandela analyzes and reAects the hcing-outside-the-Iaw of the law in the name of which he will have been

nO! judged but persecured, prejudged, taken for a criminal beforehand, as if: in this endless trial , the trial had already taken place, before the investi­j(:Hinn. whereas it is being endlessly adjourned:

I was made, by the law, a criminal. not because of what I had done, but hecause of what I stood for. because of what I thought. because of my con­"iencc. Can it be any wonder to anybody that such conditions make a man OIn olltlaw of sociery? Can it be wondered that such a man , having been ollll:lw,'u by the government, should be prepared to lead the life of an out-1:IW. as I have led for some months. according to the evidence before this rUllrt? .. . Bur there comes a time, as it came in my life, when a man is denied Ihe ril\11I (() live a normal li fe. when he can only live the life of an ouclaw hn',HISl' the government has so decreed [Q use the law to impose a state of

outlawry "pon him. (t 57)

ManJd" th us accuses white governments of never answering. while at Ihe sam,' lillle demanding that blacks be quiet and make written rep­reselll :llions: resign yourself to correspondence and to corresponding all alone.

'1'1,,· .,illislt·r irony of counterpoint: after his conviction. Mandela is

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kept in solitary confinement (Wenty-three hours a day in Pretoria Central Prison. He is employed in sewing mailbags.

4

A man oflaw by vocation, Mandela submits the laws of his profession, the professional code of ethics, its essence and its contradictions, to the same reflection. This lawyer, enjoined by that code of ethics "to observe the laws of this country and to respect its traditions," how could he have conducted a campaign and incited others to strike against mc politics of this same country? Hc himself raises this question before his judges. The answer requires nothing less than the story of his life. The decision to conform or not to conform to a code of ethics does nor depend on emics as SIIch. The question of what to do about the professional code of ethics, "should one respect it or not?" is not of a professional order. The response is a dccision that engages onc's whole existence in its moral, political, and historical dimensions. In a way, one has to recount one's life to explain or rathcr to justify the transgression of a professional rule; "In order that the court shall understand the frame of mind which leads me to action such as this, it is necessary for me to explain the background to my own politi­cal development and to try to make this court aware of me factors which influenced me in deciding to act as I did. Many years ago, when I was a boy brought up in my village in the Transkei ... " (149).

Is Mandela treating his professional obligations lightly? No, he is trying to mink his profession, which is not just one profession among others. He reflects the deontology of deontology, the deep meaning and me spirit of deontologicallaws. And once again , our of admiring respect, he decides to come down on the side of a deontology of deontology that is also a deontology beyond [au-dela] deontology, a law beyond (par-dela] legality. But the paradox of mis reflection (me deontology o/deontology) , which carries bryondwhat it reflects, is that responsibility takes its meaning again from insidethc professional apparatus. It is reinscribed wimin it, for Man­dela decides, to all appearances against the code, to exercise his profession exactly when they Want to Stop him from doing so. As an "acrorney worm his salt," he sets himself against the code in the code, by reflecting me code, and thereby making visible what thc code in force makes unteadable. Once again his reflection exhibits what phenomenality still dissimulates. It dOl's IHlI tl'-I'rodun', il prodllces the visihle. This production oflight

80 The Laws of Reflection

is justice-moral or political. For phenomenal dissimulation must nOt be confused with a natural process; [here is nothing neutral abour it, nothing innocent or fatal. Ir rranslates here the political violence of the whites; it holds to their interpretation of the laws, to char proliferation of juridi­~al purviews whose letter is destined to contradict the spirit of the law. ror example, because of the color of his skin and his membership in the ANC, Mandela cannot occupy any professional premises in the ciry. He must therefore, unlike any white lawyer, have a special authori7.ation from I he government, in accordance with the Urban Areas Act. Authorization refused. And then a waiver that is not renewed. Mandela must from then on practice in a "native location," accessible only with difliculry to chose who need his counsel in the ciry:

This was tantamount to asking us to abandon our legal practice, to give up the legal service of our people, for which we had spent many years rraining. No attorney worth his salt will agree easily [0 do so. For some ycars, [herefore, we continued to occupy premises in the ciry, illegally. The [hrea, of prosecu­rion and ejection hung menacingly over us throughout [hal period. It was an act of dtfianu of tilt law. We were aware ,hal i[ was , but, never[heless, that act had been forced on us against our wishes, and we could do no other [han III choose berween compliance with ,he law and compliance with our con­sdences .. . . [ regarded i[ as a dury which lowed. nor JUSt [0 my people. bur alsn to my profession, [0 [he practice of law, and to justice for all mankind, [0

rry nUl against this discri mination which is essentially unjust and opposed [0

Ihc whole basis of [he attitude towards justice which is part of the [radi,ion of ICI4:01 ,raining in this country. (' 51)

A 111:111 of the law by vocation: i[ would be greaely simplifying things 10 ,:IY that he places respect for the law and a cerrain categorical impera­livr a"ow professional ethics. The "profession of attorney" is not JUSt any jo". It profcsses, one might say, [hal to which we are all bound, even Olll,idl' Ihc profession. An attorney is an expert in respect or admiration; he jlldf:cs himself or subm its to judgment wi th added rigor. Or in any ,'as(' hl' .,Iwuld. Mandela must [hen find, inside professional deontology, Ihr "cSI rcason for failing a legisla[ive code rhat was already betraying the I'ri""il'it-s of every good professional deontology. As if, through reAection . he al", had 10 rcpair. supplement, reconstruct. add someth ing [0 a deon ­wIClf:Y whnc Ihl' whilcs in f.1Ct showed themselves to be deficient.

·lwi'T. tlwn. Iw confcsscs to a certai n "contempt for the law" (this is

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always his expression) in order to hold out to his adversaries the mirror in which they will have to recognize and see their own scorn for the law reRected. But with this supplementary inversion: on Mandela's side, the apparen t contempt signifies an added respect [un surcroft de respect] for the law.

And yet he does not accuse his judges, not immediately, at least not at the moment he appears before rhem. Certainly, he will have begun by challenging them: on the one hand , there was not a single black on the court and rhus the court could not guarantee the necessary impartialiry ("T he South African Government affi rms that the Universal Declaration of the Rights of Man is applied in this country but, in truth , equaliry before the law in no way exists in relat.ion to the concerns of OUf people"); on the other hand , the presiding judge remained, between sessions, in contact with the political police. Bur once in front of his judges, these objections nOt having been sustained, of course, Mandela no longer ac­cuses the tribunal. First, he con tinues to observe his deeply respectful admiration for those who exercise a function that is exemplary in his eyes and for the digniry of a tribunal. Moreover, the respect for the rules al ­lows him to confirm the ideal legitimacy of an instance before which he also must appear. He wants to seize the occasion, and I dare not say once again the chance, of this trial in order to speak, to give to his wo rd a space of public and virtually universal resonance. His judges must indeed rep­resent a universal instance. He will thus be able to speak to them, while speaking over their heads. This double opportuniry permits him to gather together the meaning of his history, his and that of his people, in order to articulate it in a coherent narrative. The image of what ties his story to that of his people must be formed in this double focal point, which at the same rime welcomes [accueille] it, takes it in [recl/eille] by gathering it, and preserves [garde] it, yes, preserves it above all: the judges here present who are listening to Mandcla, and behind them, rising high and fa r above them, [he universal court. And in a moment we will rediscover the man and the philosopher of this tribunal . For once, then, [here will have been the spoken discourse and the correspondence, the written text of his plea, which is also an indictment: it has come down to us, here it is, we are reading it at this very moment.

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This text is both unique and exemplary. Is it a testament? What has be­come of it in the past twenry years? What has hislOry done, what will his­lOry do with it? What will become of the example? And Nelson Mandela himself? H is jailers dare speak of exchanging him, of negotiating for his freedom! Of bargaining for his freedom and that ofSakhalOv!

There are at least twO ways of receiving a testament-and twO mean­ings of the word, two ways, in short, of acknowledging receipt. One can inRect it toward what bears wit1less only 10 a past and knows itself con­demned to reRecti ng that which will not return: a kind of West in gen­eral , the end of a race that is also the trajeclOry fro m a luminous source, the close of an epoch, for example that of the Ch ristian West (Mandela speaks its language, he is also an English Ch ristian). But, another inRec­tion , if the testament is always made in front of witnesses, a witness in front of witnesses, it is also so as 10 open and to enjoin , it is 10 confide in mhers the responsibi li ty of a fut ure. To testily, ro test, 10 attest, ro COntest, to present oneself before witnesses-for Mandcla, it was not o nly ro show himself. ro give himself 10 be known, himself and his people, it was also to re-institute the law for the future, as if, at botrom, the law had never raken place. As if, havi ng never been respected, it had remained, this arch­ancien! thing that had never been present, the future itse.lf-s till invisible. ' Ib he reinvented.

These two inRections of the testament are not opposed: they meet in I h~ "x,'mplarity of the example when it concerns respect for the law. Re­~I'~"I li,r a person, Kant tells us, is fi rs t addressed to the law of which this I'~rsnn ollly gives us the example. Strictly speaking, respect is o nly due Ih~ law, which is its sole cause. And yet, it is the law, we must respect the olher fi,r himself, in his irreplaceable singularity. It is true that, as a per­son or a reasonable being, the other always tesrifies, in his very singularity, 10 Ih~ respect for the law. He is exemplary in this sense. And still reRect­inj.\ - ;t(wrding ro the same optic, that of admiration and respect-these lij.\IIf'·s of (he gaze. Some might be tempted ro see in Mandela the witness or til" 111artyr of the past. He let himself be captured (literally, impris-011",1) ill the perspective [oplique] of the West, as in the machination of its l'db·';nj.\ apparatus; he nOt only internalized the law, as we were saying, h .. illl",";.Ii1."d th,· principle of interiority in its testamentary tradition ( :hl'i"ian , ROI1.,s,·a ll i", Kanlian, ctc).

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But one could say the opposite: his reflection lets liS see- in the most singular geopolitical situation, in this exueme concenuation of all human history that are today the places or the stakes called "South Africa," or "Is­rael," for example--the promise of what has never yet been seen or heard, in a law that only presented itself in the West, at the Western border, in order to disappear immediately. Whar will be decided in these so-called "places"-which are also formidable metonymies-would decide every­thing, if there were srill that; they would decide the whole.

Thus the exemplary witnesses are often those who distinguish berween the law and laws, berween the respect for the law that speaks immediately to conscience and submission to positive law (historical , national, insti­tuted). Conscience is nor only memory but promise. The exemplary wit­nesses who make us think abour the law they reflect arc those who, in cer­tain situations, do not respect the laws. They are sometimes torn berween their conscience and the laws; ar times they let themselves be condemned by the tribunals of their country. And there arc witnesses of this kind ill every country, which proves that the place of appearance or formulation is for the law also the place of the first uprooting. III every country, thus, for example, yet again , in Eutope, for example in England, for example, among philosophers. The example chosen by Mandela, the most exem­plary of the witnesses he seems to call to the bar is an English philosopher, a peer of the realm (still this admiration for the most elevated forms of parliamentary democracy), the "most respected philosopher in the West­ern world" who knew how, in certain situations, nOt to respect the law, how to put "conscience," "duty," "belief in the morality of the essential rightness of the cause" before the "respect for the law." It is out of respect that he did not show respect: (no) more respect. Respect for the sake of respect. Can we regulate some oprical model on what such a possibility promises? Admiration of Mandela-for Bertrand Russell:

Your Worship, I would say that the whole life of any thinking African in this country drives him continuollsly [Q a conRicr bcrween his conscience on the one hand and the law on the mher. This is not a conRict peculiar to this country. The conRict arises for men of conscience, for men who think and who feel deeply in every COUntry. Recently in Britain. a peer of the rcalm. Earl RlIs.ell. probably t/" mOIt mptCled philosopher of ,he Western world, was sentenced. convicted for precisely ,he type of activities for which [ stand be­li>« YOli today. fnr following his conscience in defiance of ,he law, as a protest :lJ!.aill!-o1 :1 1H1c.:lc:ar-Wt:;lpnns polic.:y hring fullowco hy his own government. For

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him, his dury to the public, his belief in the moraliry of the essential rightness of the cause for which he stood, rose superior to his high mptet for the law. He could nOt do other than to oppose the law and [0 suffer the consequences for it. Nor can I. Nor can many Mricans in this country. The law as it is applied, the law as it has been developed over a long period of history, and especially the law as it is written and designed by the Nationalis< government, is a law which. in OUf view, is immoral, unjust, and inrolerable. OUf consciences dic­tate chat we must protest againsr irJ thar we must oppose it, and that we must attempt to alter it. (152)

' Ii> oppose the law, to then try and transform it: once the decision is lIIade, the recourse to violence should not take place without measure and without rule. Mandela explains in minute detail the strategy, the limits, Ihe progress reRected upon and observed. First, there was a phase during Ihe course of which, all legal opposition being forbidden, the infraction had nevertheless to remain nonviolent: "All lawful modes of expressing opposition to th is principle had been closed by legislation, and we were placed in a position in which we had either to accept a permanent state of inferiority or to defy the government. We chose to defy the law. We first broke Ihe law in a way which avoided any recourse to violence" (162.).

The infraction still manifests the absolute respect for the supposed spirit of the law. But it was impossible to scop there. For the government invelHcd new legal devices co repress these nonviolent challenges. To this vinlelH response, which was also a nontesponse, the transition co violence was in its turn the only possible response. Response co the nonresponse: "When this form was legislated agai nst, and then the government resorted In a show of force ro crush opposition to its policies, only then did we .JcdJc to answer violence with violence" (162.) .

11111 there again, the violence remains subject to a rigorous law, "a "rktly controlled violence." Mandela insists, he underlines these words ;11 Ihe poil)( where he explains the genesis of Umkonco we Sizwe (Spear of til<" Nation) in November 1961. In founding that combat organization, he illl""d, to suhmit it co the political directives of the ANe, whose stat­IIlcs I""'scrihc lion violence. In front of his judges, Mandela describes in .Jelaillile rules of actioll, rhe strategy, the tacties, and above all the limits illlpos"d nil lil,' militants charged with sabotage: co wound or kill no Olle, eilh"r ill Ihe prel'ar;lIiOIl or the execu tion of the operations. The militants 11111S1 "01 h"ar arlllS. Irhe recognizes "having prepared a plan of saborage,"

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it was neither through "adventurism" nor through any "love of violence in itself." On the contrary, he wanted (0 interrupr whar is so oddly called the cycle of violence, one entailing rhe other because firsr of all ir answers, reAecrs, sends it back irs image. Mandela meant (0 limir the risks of explo­sion by controlling rhe actions of the militants and by constantly devoting himself (0 what he calls a "reAective" analysis of the situation.

He was arrested four months after the crearion of Umkonto, in August 1962. In May 1964, at the conclusion of the Rivonia Trial, he was sen­tenced to life imprisonment.

P.S. The postscript is for the future-in what is most undecided about ir (Oday. I wanted (0 speak, of course, of Nelson Mandela's future, of what does not allow irself (0 be anticipared, caughr, captured by any mirror. Who is Nelson Mandela?

We will never s(OP admiring him, him and his admiration. But we do not yet know whom (0 admire in him, the one who, in the past, will have been the captive of his admiration or the one who, in a future amerior, will always have been free (the freest man in the world, let us not say that lightly) for having had the parience of his admiration and having known, passionately, whar he had to admire. Going so far as (0 refuse, again yes­terday, a conditional freedom.

Would they thus have imprisoned him, for almost a quarter century now, in his very admiration? Was that not the very objective--I mean that in the sense of pho(Ography and of the optical machine- the right (0 oversee [Ie droit de regara1? Did he let himself be imprisoned' Did he gn himself imprisoned? Was it an accident? Perhaps we must place our­selves at a point where these alternatives lose their meaning and become the justification and the srarting point for new questions. Then we must leave rhese quesrions open, like doors. And what remains (0 come in these questions, which are not only theoretical or philosophical, is also the fig­ure of Mandela. Who is it? Who is coming rhere?

We have looked at him through words that are sometimes rhe devices for observarion , or can in any case become rhar if we are nOt careful. Whar we have described, while trying precisely (0 escape speculation, is a kind of great historical mirador or watch (Ower. Bur there is nothing thar permits us to rest assured of the unity, still less of rhe legirimacy of this optic of reAection, of its singular laws, of rhe Law, of its place of insritu-

86 The Laws of Reflection

rion . of presentation or of revelation. for example. of what we gather too quickly under the name of the West. But does this presumption of unity not produce something like an effect (J am not attached to this word) that .'0 many forces. always. tty to appropriate for themselves? An effect visible and invisible. like a mirror, hard also, like the walls of a prison.

Everything that still hides Nelson Mandela from our sight.

-Translated by Mary Ann Caws and Isabelle Lorenz