Invictus
In 1875, William Ernest Henley penned a short poem about the English tradition of maintaining a stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. The last two lines of the poem are the most memorable and are:
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul.
I was reminded of the poem while watching the Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman movie by the same name, Invictus. It is the story of the 1995 Rugby World Cup final match between the New Zealand All-Blacks and the South African Spring Bokkes. That is the set-up of the movie, but the real story is the story of transition of South Africa from being a country of Apartheid to a modern multiracial state. It is the story of the age-old struggle for human dignity and equality as played out on the rugby pitch.
I have seen the movie many times and it never fails to inspire me and move me. I attribute that mostly to Matt Damon for how he plays the Afrikaner rugby team captain, a man who grew up in a family that had a typically patriarchal and kindly relationship with its black housekeeper, where the white supremacy that dominated the country’s culture was simply normal course. The casting of the other rugby players and especially the white presidential security forces that protect Mandela (Freeman) reflect the prototypical stern Afrikaner look and feel. But Damon looks and acts differently. He is respectful and thoughtful, but a man dedicated only to sport as well. The outreach to Damon by Mandela is based on Mandela’s belief that his mission is to create a united country and to work towards healing the rifts which have separated the country along strict racial lines. The blacks are native and indigenous and the whites are European colonialists that have claimed SOuth Africa for their own and have been there long enough to feel more native than colonial. Mandela chooses to not dismantle the cultural icon of the Spring Bokke rugby team, but rather to maintain it in color and spirit as an important sign to the whites that he wants to represent all South Africans. Needless to say, there are hard feeling all around at such a momentous national time of change. Whites want status quo and blacks want reparations for years of oppression. Neither are fully possible under the broader mission.
The impressive aspect of the Damon role is that he manages to subtly and very gradually go through a change that is visible to the audience without seeming to be blatant or unrealistic. He manages to show us that by keeping an open and largely unbiased mind, the dripping consciousness and awareness of the plight and dedication of someone like Mandela takes its toll on his feelings about the situation. This all culminates at the award ceremony after the Spring Bokkes win the Rugby World Cup and we see whites and blacks both rejoicing over the national victory, sharing a collective national pride they have not heretofore enjoyed. At that moment on the podium, Mandela gives thanks to a game-bruised Damon for captaining his team to victory. But Damon immediately turns the situation back and says with emphasis, “No, thank YOU, Mr. President.” It is a strong moment that comes as the natural culmination of what has been building in Damon’s character.
There are very few places on earth that have had a bigger and more visible problem with a cultural divide than South Africa. Few national policies have been more clearly proclaimed and come under more harsh global criticism than Apartheid. Unfortunately, the biggest difference between South Africa and many parts of the rest of the world, including the United States, is less in the feelings that underlaid Apartheid and more in the the open declaration of those feelings. The insidiousness of those feelings have yielded precious little to enlightenment over the last century. Many of the old superiority-charged tropes lie just below the surface of polite society and seep into everyday life more often than we all wish. Some will suggest that it is simply nature’s way to force survival of the fittest while others will say it is endemic of the inherent evil of man that can never be completely eradicated. They feel it is original and everlasting sin.
Living in Southern California is quite a bit unlike living in New York City. Both places have a fairly high degree of ethnic diversity for different reasons. New York is more the historic point of entry for particularly European immigration where Southern California is more prone to legal and illegal border-crossing immigration that tends to emphasize Hispanics. But for all the entry-point advantages of New York City, with its commerce and many diverse ethnic communities that encourage the integration of newcomers, Southern California has the advantage of a more congenial weather and a degree of proximity to Mexico that make it both a starting point and end destination where New York is an end destination more by default than intent. Make no mistake, there are blacks in Southern California and plenty of Hispanics in New York City as well. As for Asian immigrants, I bet Southern California has more for purely geographic reasons, but the resultant “Chinatown” concentrations are strong on both coasts.
For one reason or another, while New York has a long history of being an ethnic melting pot, having given entree to so many ethnicities over the centuries, there seems to be a stronger disparity and divide that exists in New York than I sense in Southern California. My friends that live in Florida assume that we suffer from a “wetback” problem that would have us cowering in our homes and behind our walled gates. This is the impression given to the world by the people of Texas, with its long border with Mexico. But after three years of living in this county of California that borders Mexico, I can honestly say that there is almost no visible immigrant problem here. We clearly have more Mexican food here than other places. We clearly have more Hispanic-heritage residents here, some of whom still claim Spanish as their primary language. But there is no problem that I see day-to-day. Like every community in America these days, our Home Depot stores have a supply of day laborers who may be illegal immigrants. But we never ask. There is no point. We have work to be done and these people are, for the most part, willing to work hard for a day’s pay. I have yet to see any dishonesty or ill will among these workers. They understand that the best path to prosperity is in their attitude and they pretty much all show that good attitude that we want from any worker we hire.
It is my belief that people who have shown the gumption to move their lives to a place where their prospects may improve deserve a lot of credit. To unhinge oneself from familiar surroundings, no matter how uninspiring they may be, is a very difficult and brave thing to do. Some are driven by ambition and, increasingly, many are driven by sheer survival. The reasons don’t really matter, what matters is that they have chosen to be the master of their own fate and that is both noteworthy and admirable. How we choose to accept and defend their rights as human brethren is how and where we become the captains of our own souls.
On the surface, the victors in the equation are those who have come to seek a better life. The reality of history tells us that we as the recipients of this resource of labor, talent and ambition, we may be the collective victors in the long run. Dignity and equality are attributes that have a strange way of rewarding all those who participate in their generation. Invictus.