PuraVida Post 18-How the Dead Saved Live Music (2023-01-06)
(An earlier version of this post appeared in ParklifeDC)
“I just love music. All of it – listening to it, playing. I mean, all of it. Everything about it, really. There’s really nothing about it I don’t like.” – Jerry Garcia
During the pandemic shutdown when live music performances could have completely disappeared, musicians, fans, and venues responded in typically creative fashion: on-line live streams, sidewalk/parking lot concerts, drive-in shows, and a massive Congressional lobbying effort by National Independent Venue Association (NIVA, #saveourstages) spearheaded by Dayna Frank of First Avenue in Minneapolis. And save our stages they did as the Save Our Stages Act was approved in 2020 to the tune of $15 billion, setting aside funds for independent venues to weather the economic Covid storm.
Many, however, had already discovered a way to enjoy live music that wasn’t so broadly publicized: bootlegs. Now, I don’t mean the less than pristine records one used to find buried in the stacks of Mom-and-Pop music shops that were captured on a cassette player by a guy standing in the back of an arena surrounded by screaming fans that, when placed on a turntable, the din drowned out the music itself. Rather, as technology improved over the years and tapers became savvier, unauthorized concert taping has documented and given music fans wonderful opportunities to relive the thrill of live music. Today, concert recordings (or “ROIOs”-recordings of indeterminate origin) have grown in popularity and quality.
Up through the mid-1990s, a dedicated and expansive tape-trading community existed that’s now given way to the internet’s reach. For the past 25 (or so) years, torrent sites hosting peer-to-peer sharing of live recordings made by fans using either sophisticated “rigs” that include microphones designed specifically for the task, or plugging directly into the soundboard, has resulted in recordings of spectacular fidelity reproducing the “live feel” of a concert.
There is one important distinction between bootleg recordings and those shared on torrent sites: money and the exchange thereof. “Bootleg” is a term commonly applied to live recordings sold for profit with no compensation for the artist. In contrast, recordings shared on torrent sites are typically labeled “made by fans for fans,” strictly prohibit uploading officially released material, and have the implicit (or explicit) approval of the artist.
“Well, my feelings are, the music is for the people...I mean after it leaves our instruments it's of no value to us, ya know what I mean...so, it might as well be taped, my feeling is that…and if people enjoy taping it and enjoy having the tapes to listen to, that's real great.” – Jerry Garcia
One could assume the history of live concert recording began with the Grateful Dead in the 1960s, though according to Clinton Heylin in his 1994 book, “Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry,” unauthorized recordings of live music have existed since the dawn of recording technology. As early as 1901, audiences were recording live opera performances using crude wax cylinder devices. By the 1940s, recorders using magnetic tape had become available. With the resulting leap in sound quality, the technology was championed by noted song and dance man, Bing Crosby who, on October 1, 1947, became the first entertainer to broadcast a radio show recorded (until then only performed live in the studio) on magnetic tape. Though the taped Crosby radio shows were painstakingly edited through splicing to reproduce the “live” pace and flow, the practice soon became standard throughout the radio industry.
As recording technology became increasingly affordable on the retail market and with the invention of the cassette tape recorder in 1963, listening to, and recording on, compact cassette tapes soon became widespread.
In the pre-internet days, tapes of concert recordings were traded by mail through a “vine” system. Copied and passed among friends and acquaintances using blank cassette tapes (and later, CD-Rs), concert tapes would spread like a chain-letter among dozens (or hundreds) more participants in the vine. Over time, these communities grew, whether for a particular artist or musical genre, eventually birthing an entire sub-culture.
“The shows are never the same, ever. When we’re done with it, they can have it.” – Jerry Garcia
In the early days, “stealth” tapers had to sneak their equipment into venues. In time, though, Grateful Dead fans redefined the live music experience. Most of us have seen footage (or experienced it ourselves!) of Deadheads dancing and twirling in ecstasy at concerts or simply mesmerized by the band’s sheer musicianship. When taped shows began circulating among fans, the experience could be shared with those who weren’t at a particular show and became a driving factor in expanding the Dead’s fan base. Moreover, tapers realized that they were acting with the band’s tacit approval, taking the practice to new and previously unimagined levels of expertise and sonic quality.
Then, on October 27, 1984, the band made it official, opening a dedicated taper’s section at the Berkeley Community Theater show. That fateful (and inevitable) decision gave tapers a stamp of approval, furthering the Grateful Dead’s intention to create a culture of inclusion, magic, and joy. Their music, with the help of the tapers, was not just entertainment but became a significant and meaningful part of peoples’ lives, growing the Grateful Dead’s legacy.
Taping wasn’t limited to the Grateful Dead, of course. Led Zeppelin, CSNY, Yes, the Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, The Who and countless non-supergroups had their dedicated tapers, with thousands of tapes traded through the mail over the years. The rules stayed the same, though: no money exchanged hands. As a result, a formidable live music history grew that documented the legacy of those groups, apart from and in addition to, their official recordings.
“If you’re able to enjoy something, to devote your life to it or a reasonable amount of time and energy, it will work out for you.” – Jerry Garcia
On August 9, 1995, two events occurred with implications that changed the world. On that day, the Grateful Dead, as we knew it, ended with Jery Garcia’s death. Concurrently, the initial public offering (IPO) by Netscape, a little-known startup that designed software to power the Internet, portended changes to popular culture that, at the time, few of us understood or imagined. Now with the benefit of nearly 30 years hindsight, those two seemingly unrelated events are inextricably linked.
Jerry’s death was the end for the Grateful Dead, but according to Levi Asher writing in Literary Kicks, August 9th marked the start of the “Internet Age.” Indeed, Deadheads’ overwhelming grief resulted in thousands of spontaneous meetups and memorials that same evening, gatherings that were publicized on early internet sites like rec.music.gdead, the popular Grateful Dead USENET newsgroup. Beyond the Dead community, Jerry’s passing became a significant “viral” event on CompuServe, AOL, Prodigy, and other emerging online communities around the world. Attempting to keep up, the Dead’s website (hosted at the time by a Carnegie-Mellon University student) was updating every few minutes.
“We’re like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.” – Jerry Garcia
I had been collecting audience tapes of Grateful Dead performances since the 1980s, but my “stash” was fairly small. Once Jerry passed my interest in the Dead cooled (I also started having kids so priorities changed), but as years passed and the internet age really took off, I began learning about downloading music. When Napster came along in 1999 with the ensuing controversy over internet piracy of officially produced content, I was wary. Artists deserve fair compensation for their work, no matter how that work is distributed, and I couldn’t bring myself to download the wide selection of movies and music that was available through Napster, not to mention that dial-up modems were terribly inefficient.
By the mid aughts, acquiring music through the internet became more feasible due to the widespread installation of fiber-optic cables and faster, more efficient download speeds. Apple, Amazon, and Google all developed platforms for customers’ easy access to music downloads. Today, even downloading music has become a thing of the past as streaming is now the primary way people in the U.S. listen to music. A 2021 report notes that 41% of Americans now enjoy music through streaming services, more than any other format.
So, what does that all mean for live music? As the Covid-19 years fade from memory and musicians once again tour with pre-pandemic gusto, tapers are again out en force, recording and preserving that spontaneous live sound. The egalitarian Dead tape-trading culture that began all those years ago still thrives today. As trading live music recordings has moved into the Internet Age, torrent sites such as EZTorrent, The Traders Den, and bt.etree adhere to a strict set of rules and a community enforced ethic; primarily, that music is shared and that no money changes hands (joining a torrent site is free but requires registration). Officially released music is prohibited and immediately removed. Torrent sites all have NAB (not allowed bands) and NAV (not allowed venues) lists where artists have indicated that their recordings may not be uploaded and/or shared. Additionally, only lossless flac music files may be shared (no mp3s), thus ensuring that high quality sound is maintained and circulated.
Many musicians nonetheless embrace recording and sharing of their live performances. Neil Young, whose performances have been recorded for decades and who originally disapproved of those recordings, has now officially released several fan-recorded performances on his website, Neil Young Archives (NYA). Back in 2012, Young said, "I look at [the] internet as the new radio. Radio [is] gone. Piracy is the new radio; it's how music gets around." Rather than hearing a new tune on your favorite AOR (album-oriented rock) FM station, streaming services (Apple, Tidal, Spotify, etc.) suggest new music based on your listening habits and history. Similarly, while exploring torrent sites users learn about new bands and music. As a result, streaming and/or downloading live music increases the likelihood that fans will purchase official recordings and attend artists’ concerts.
“What a long strange trip it's been” – Jerry Garcia
Today, the Live Music Archive (LMA) hosts a mindboggling array of live music from musicians and bands both obscure and renowned. More than simply a depository of recorded performances, the LMA stands as a virtual museum, documenting the history, influence, and existence of thousands of bands across the musical spectrum.
Of course, bands have traditionally released official live recordings, often with cleaned up sound, overdubs, or other studio enhancements. Platforms such as nugs.net and Wolfgang’s Vault offer subscription-based streaming services for live recordings. But nothing compares to the culture changing influence of the Grateful Dead’s benign promotion of recording and trading their concerts that continues to give life to the spontaneity of those sublime live moments (and even onstage disasters).
Without concert tapers (an enduring but anachronistic term given today’s digital recording devices), music fans could not appreciate Neil Young’s 1977 performance of “Sweet Home Alabama” in tribute to Skynyrd shortly after its tragic plane crash, Yes’s unique performance of “And You And I” in 2004 at Madison Square Garden, or Prince’s first performance of “Purple Rain” at First Avenue in 1983. And in light of so many of our favorite artists passing in recent years, their live musical bodies of work are still with us, right up to their final performances.
One could argue that, judging from the proliferation of smart phones, screens ablaze, at most concerts these days, everyone is a taper. Those video recordings popping up on multiple social media platforms give us a near real-time look at many thrilling moments: Taylor Swift performing flawlessly in the pouring rain, Boygenius’s joyful onstage shenanigans, or the Cure’s Robert Smith being moved by adoring fans.
Mark A. Rodriguez, in his book, “After All is Said and Done: Taping the Grateful Dead 1965-1995,” asserts that, “One goal of this particular band was to change culture, for people to relate to each other in idealistic or ‘utopic’ fashion…a free distribution thing.” One can trace an unbroken chain linking the Dead’s earliest tapers to the cell phone video captures of today. Rather than those notes floating off into space never to be experienced again, they’ve been preserved for more of us to enjoy, and perhaps add to the musician’s fan (and customer) base. As much as the pandemic years hurt artists, audiences, and live music venues, many of us, listening through headphones, watching on cell phones and computer screens, or immersed, dancing and twirling in it, the music never stopped.
“You need music, I don’t know why. It’s probably one of those Joe Campbell questions, why we need ritual. We need magic, and bliss, and power, myth, and celebration and religion in our lives, and music is a good way to encapsulate a lot of it.” – Jerry Garcia
PuraVida Post 17-Again for the First Time (2023-10-21)
Head of Religion, Antonio Canova (1757-1822), plaster, c. 1787/1788
I was recently in Washington, DC, where I had lived for much of my adult life. After an absence of about a year, I was taken by how familiar, yet foreign, the city felt. I suppose there’s some truth to the old platitude that we can never go home again…yet I keep trying.
After an initial period of disorientation (numbered streets go which way?), I regained my bearings and wandered down to the National Mall to the National Gallery of Art (NGA). To think I’d lived in the city and had only visited this marvelous museum only a handful of times is a bit shocking. But this time I was untethered to a job, a house or kids, and had time on my hands to ramble at leisure, and soon became engrossed by sculpture, both classical and modern.
The absence of time constraints can sometimes focus the mind, allowing full appreciation of the previously overlooked. Rodin, for instance, is one of history’s most well-known artists, yet somehow, I’d never truly appreciated his skill and craftsmanship. Seeing “The Thinker” up close made me, well, think.
The Thinker, Auguste Rodin (1840-1917), bronze, 1901
According to Wikipedia, François Auguste René Rodin is considered by many the founder of modern sculpture. Born in France in 1840, he submitted his first sculpture for exhibition, The Man with the Broken Nose, to the Paris Salon at the age of 24. It was rejected. The piece nonetheless embodied the style and “feel” that would characterize his work: an emphasis on texture, the subject’s emotional state, and a sense of “unfinishedness.”
Rodin’s “Thinker” is an idealized image of man; serious, rational, principled. But would his work of art find a place in today’s world? A world of conspiracy theories, government dysfunction, and barbaric acts of terrorism. In Rodin’s day, men were considered the epitome of evolution-women regarded as subservient; physically, mentally, emotionally. Were a woman depicted as a “thinker,” the piece would have been rejected many times over and Rodin himself scorned as a serious artist.
As I write those lines, I’m led to ponder the artist’s role in society. Does art merely reflect our culture back at us? If that was solely the case, would women’s roles in society be the same now as back in the 19th century? Or does art break that reflection, show the world as it could be, illuminate the possible? I happen to believe the latter-that art (in its myriad forms) recycles, builds, deconstructs, and ultimately finds new expressions, new insights, new understanding. Music, prose and poetry, dance, sculpture, and painting allow us to find joy in life, understand it in a new light, and even offer shelter from pain.
Venus, Antonio Canova (1757-1822), marble, c. 1822/1823
The Age of Bronze, Auguste Rodin (1840-1917), plaster, 1898
As I strolled through the NGA surrounded by these great works of art, I felt small, insignificant, and grateful for the brief respite from the insanity of the outside world. And grateful that this art exists, and has survived, is testament to the people, artists and non-artists alike, willing to create and preserve these masterpieces of humanity for future generations to admire.
Diana and a Hound, Paul Manship (1885-1966), bronze, 1925
My mother died in 2017 at age 83. She was an artist, and a thinker. Were she still with me today she’d point out the flaws in my writing and photography, we’d argue about the role of art, and I’d find our discussion fairly frustrating (mainly because she was usually right). But she wasn’t pointing out flaws or inconsistencies to diminish or embarrass me. She was trying to learn, to broaden her horizons, to know her son better. She lived by her personal maxim: “aun aprendo.” Still learning.
As I wandered through the National Gallery, surrounded by works of art I, for the first time, began to understand. Again.
More later.
Study in the Nude of a Little Dancer Aged Fourteen, Edgar Degas (1834-1917), bronze, 1926
Figure of a Woman "The Sphinx," Auguste Rodin (1840-1917), marble, 1909
Diana of the Tower, Gustus Saint Gaudens (1848-1907), bronze, 1899
Head of a Bull, Gaetano Monti (1750-1827), marble, 1824
Post 16-The Good Samaritan, 2023-08-31
I’ve never been enamored of organized religion. The ceremony and ritual, rather than being a source of comfort, is repetitious and tedious. I’m appalled by the senseless and barbarous acts of violence committed throughout history by religious institutions in the name of God. And who isn’t repulsed by the actions of pedophile priests in what seems to be a recurring scandal exposed to light every few years?
On the other hand, I’m a true believer in the mystical. How can one deny the spiritual power of the natural world, the miracle of birth, the enormity of the universe? Examples abound of many people who led lives that reflected spiritual values like mercy, tolerance, and selflessness. Certainly, God is not a bearded and bethroned older Caucasian gentleman floating Monty Python-like amidst billowing clouds. But there does seem to be a higher power, a great spirit, or a force at work which our puny human minds will never fully understand.
So, it was with this mindset that in 2018 I found myself on the Isle of Iona, the tiny island adjacent to Mull, off the west coast of Scotland. Widely believed to be the birthplace of Benedictine Christianity, Iona is home to St. Columba’s monastery, established with his arrival in AD 563. Though frequently raided by Vikings, Columba’s monastery survived until the end of the 12th century when the sons of Somerled, the “King of the Isles,” founded a Benedictine Abbey in its place. Though monastic life on Iona ended with the Protestant Reformation of 1560, pilgrims seeking solace and redemption have continued flocking to St Columba’s Shrine through the centuries. Despite my religious skepticism, I suppose I’m now one of those pilgrims. Certainly, I found solace and peace there…redemption, though? That remains to be seen.
Reaching Iona, although not a lengthy trek, can be a trying one. After a pleasant 3-hour car ride from Stronachlachar on the western shore of Loch Katrine in Trossachs National Park along Highway A85, Joscelyn, mother-in-law Diane and husband Verne, and I arrived in Oban on Scotland’s western coast. From there the 1-hour ferry crossing took us to Craignure on the Isle of Mull. To reach Iona though, we had to cross Mull to reach our next ferry. Waiting for us (along with several other ferry passengers) was a fully appointed, modern tour bus to transport us to Fionnport on the island’s southwest coast. However, the fare was cash only and wouldn’t you know it, we only could scrape together 30 of the required 32 pounds. But thanks to the generosity of David, a cook also bound for Iona, who “lent” us the difference, we all set off on our pilgrimage to experience peaceful days of meditation and fellowship, surrounded by ghosts of a past that still lingers.
But I’m left to ponder. Who, or what, led a Good Samaritan to that bus with us? Perhaps there is a higher power after all.
More later…
PuraVida Post 15-Pride Celebrations (2023-08-09)
Now that some time has passed since another Pride Month has come and gone, I’ve found myself reflecting on its significance, culturally and personally. The first Gay Pride Parade that I attended and photographed was in June 1988. I had moved to San Francisco, California the previous year and was still learning about The City, its culture, and my place in it. Since that first celebration, I’ve documented dozens of marches, protests, and parades for and against various causes, but Pride events remain without question the most joyous, meaningful, and personally satisfying experiences.
In retrospect, although I would soon turn 30 years old in 1988, I was still unsure of my own identity. I didn’t “feel” gay, or have any sort of same-sex attraction, but the LGBT+ world fascinated and mystified me. Looking back on that time, it’s clear my blind spots, though unrecognized, nonetheless colored my world view. Certainly, San Francisco was the place to illuminate those hidden attitudes and, more importantly, not to fear or condemn homosexuality.
What I did not realize back then was the relative newness of the gay rights movement. The Stonewall Uprising (at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street in New York City) had occurred a mere 19 years before; on June 28, 1969. Meg Metcalf, at the Library of Congress writes, “the first Pride marches were held in New York, Los Angeles and Chicago [on June 28, 1970]. Thousands of LGBT+ people gathered to commemorate Stonewall and demonstrate for equal rights. The events of Stonewall and the liberation movements that followed were a direct result of prior decades of LGBT+ activism and organizing. In particular, Pride traditions were adapted from the ‘Reminder Day Pickets’ held annually (1965-1969) on July 4 at Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.”
Reminder Days
After the Stonewall Uprising, organizers of the Annual Reminder Day Picket (Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations-ERCHO) suggested that they shift focus from planning the Picket Marches to organizing an annual demonstration in commemoration of Stonewall. The first Reminder Day Picket had occurred on July 4, 1965, when thirty-nine individuals demonstrated outside Philadelphia’s Independence Hall. Those first organized homosexual rights demonstrations, these events reminded the general public that basic rights were being denied to a significant number of U.S. citizens. Such “Annual Reminders” marked a coming out of sorts for LGBT+ activism that continues through today.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the country in Los Angeles, California, the Black Cat Tavern. an historic LGBT+ bar was the site of a 1967 demonstration against police brutality. The demonstration of about 200 people occurred on February 11th and was organized by the Personal Rights in Defense and Education (PRIDE) and the Southern California Council on Religion and Homophile (SCCRH) using "secret phone trees” to disseminate the time and location. Although the demonstration was met by squadrons of armed police, protesters were careful not to violate any laws or ordinances to avoid arrests. It was the first organized public LGBTQ protest in Los Angeles, and occurred during the governorship of Ronald Reagan, whose “law and order” policies resulted in systemic police brutality. Despite Reagan’s policies, though, nationwide momentum was building in defense of gay rights.
Christopher Street
The East Coast Homophile Organizations (ECHO), established in January 1962 in Philadelphia to foster cooperation between homophile organizations, was rechristened 1966 as the Eastern Regional Conference of Homophile Organizations (ERCHO). Following Stonewall, the November 1969 ERCHO Conference “propose[d] that a demonstration be held annually on the last Saturday in June in New York City to commemorate the 1969 spontaneous demonstrations on Christopher Street and this demonstration be called CHRISTOPHER STREET LIBERATION DAY.”
The first Christopher Street Liberation Day in 1970 was overwhelmingly successful with thousands attending and surpassing organizers’ expectations. ERCHO began planning for marches the following year in New York, Los Angeles and Chicago and prompted other cities, states, and countries to establish their own annual Pride traditions.
Worldwide Pride
From the beginning, organizers viewed Pride festivities as a national event-with celebrations in communities across the country. What began as a response to local attacks on homosexuals evolved into an international celebration of human rights. After documenting celebrations in San Francisco, Washington DC, New York, and Bellingham, I can attest that they all have one thing in common: love.
Much more than a celebration of gay life, Pride parades and festivals acknowledge diversity, sex, weirdness, body acceptance, coming out, honesty, and pain – the pain that certain individuals, groups, and institutions still inflict on the LBGT+ community and, as a result, on the country at large. But countering that pain with huge numbers of people demonstrating their support for LGBT+ rights is what those early organizers were hoping to achieve.
Anyone who has ever attended a Pride celebration knows that they are filled with a camaraderie that transcends sex and gender. Pride parades draw millions around the globe, and the presence of participants that include politicians, countless businesses, and multinational corporations might lead one to think that virtue signaling and cynicism have subverted the celebrations’ original intent. But crass public relations and genuine support can, oddly, exist side by side, demonstrating that people of varying backgrounds, beliefs, colors, and orientations can rejoice together in being alive.
More later…
PuraVida Post 14-Nelson Mandela (2023-05-04)
Victor Verster Prison from where Nelson Mandela was released in 1990 after 27 years as a political prisoner.
South Africa is a country both shackled and liberated. Cape Town itself is a study in contrasts: extreme poverty and excessive opulence, the Black/White divide, a modern functioning democracy and a nation coming to terms with its colonial past. It could be bright and sunny, become rainy and blustery, and suddenly warm and mild again.
Bo-Kaap neighborhood with Table Mountain (partially enshrouded by clouds) and Devils' Peak. Cape Town, South Africa, November 2021
Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela had been held in solitary confinement for 17 years, was, along with Table Mountain, one of our primary destinations while we were in Cape Town. Mandela’s story is awe-inspiring, and proof that one person can transform an entire society. In 1982, following his imprisonment on Robben Island, he was moved to Pollsmoor Prison until December 1988 when he was transferred again to Victor Verster Prison. Years of international political pressure and a global divestment campaign finally forced South Africa’s new Prime Minister, F. W. de Klerk, to seek Mandela’s unconditional release. On February 11, 1990, Nelson Mandela once again became a free man and a country that had lived under apartheid rule since 1948 would see its first popularly elected President in 1994.
Artist's rendering of Nelson Mandela's cell on Robben Island.
Mandela’s government continued dismantling apartheid and assembled a broad coalition to establish a new constitution. Mandela himself insisted on reconciliation between the country’s racial groups, creating the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to investigate past human rights abuses. He also decided to keep the government’s liberal economic framework despite his own socialist beliefs, and introduced measures to encourage land reform, combat poverty, and expand healthcare services.
The week Joscelyn and I were in Cape Town afforded us various opportunities to cross the narrow channel to Robben Island to walk the prison, stand in Mandela’s cell, and bear witness to what he endured. Alas, it was not to be. Both times we tried to cross, the ferry service was cancelled because of high winds. A near sinking in 2017 resulted in adoption of stricter safety measures.
Alas, we were left to learn about South Africa’s racial past from guides, taxi drivers, and new friends. Three major groups form the country’s population: Blacks, Coloureds, and Whites. Blacks (native-born descendants of indigenous Africans) comprise the vast majority followed by Coloureds (multiethnic mixed-race people) and, finally, the minority White (Afrikaner) population. And although racial harmony is far from complete in South Africa, Mandela’s reconciliation groundwork has prevented deadly civil unrest normally associated with societal upheaval.
Walking to and from the Robben Island ferry terminal (twice!), took us past the Un/Settled Project “that explores white South Africans histories, privileges and reflections on identity.” As I read through the captions accompanying the projects’ photographs, I was struck by the honesty of the quoted White South Africans and their willingness to accept reality. Yet, clearly, South Africa still grapples with its past, and the harsh truth that true change only comes over generations.
A solitary figure has the potential to change history. On the 14-hour plane ride home we watched “Cry Freedom,” the 1987 biopic about the friendship between Steven Biko (played by a very young Denzel Washington) and South African journalist Donald Woods (an equally youthful Kevin Kline). Biko was a revolutionary bent on destroying apartheid, and was brutally murdered (along with countless others) by the State for his beliefs. However, what Biko started, Mandela continued.
I’m left with a question, though. How does a person who has endured so much retain the ability to lead with compassion, empathy, fairness, and most of all, determination? How was Nelson Mandela able to resist the temptation to hate his captors, seek revenge on his oppressors and to, in essence, forgive and invite them to join his vision for a just and prosperous South Africa?
Nelson Mandela quote
South Africa’s evolution from divided to integrated society is ongoing, and despite its painful apartheid history, may hold lessons for the U.S. in navigating beyond our own shameful past. One wonders if recent events (African Americans indiscriminately killed by police, Black lawmakers expelled from legislatures, minority voter disenfranchisement) are merely blips on a timeline of progress, or a true regression on the growth and promise this country truly (I hope) represents.
More later…