President Obama:
Thank you.
[applause]
Thank you.
[applause]
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
To Graça Machel
and the Mandela family;
to President Zuma and
members of the government;
to heads of states and
government, past and present;
distinguished guests --
it is a singular honor
to be with you today,
to celebrate
a life like no other.
To the people of South Africa --
(applause)
-- people of every race
and walk of life --
the world thanks
you for sharing
Nelson Mandela with us.
His struggle was your struggle.
His triumph was your triumph.
Your dignity and your hope
found expression in his life.
And your freedom, your democracy
is his cherished legacy.
It is hard to
eulogize any man --
to capture in words not
just the facts and the dates
that make a life,
but the essential
truth of a person --
their private joys and sorrows;
the quiet moments
and unique qualities
that illuminate someone's soul.
How much harder to do
so for a giant of history,
who moved a nation
toward justice,
and in the process moved
billions around the world.
Born during World War I,
far from the corridors of power,
a boy raised herding
cattle and tutored
by the elders
of his Thembu tribe,
Madiba would emerge as
the last great liberator
of the 20th century.
Like Gandhi, he would lead
a resistance movement --
a movement that at its start
had little prospect for success.
Like Dr. King, he would give
potent voice to the claims
of the oppressed and the moral
necessity of racial justice.
He would endure
a brutal imprisonment
that began in the time
of Kennedy and Khrushchev,
and reached the final
days of the Cold War.
Emerging from prison,
without the force
of arms, he would --
like Abraham Lincoln --
hold his country together when
it threatened to break apart.
And like America's
Founding Fathers,
he would erect a constitutional
order to preserve freedom
for future generations --
a commitment to democracy
and rule of law ratified
not only by his election,
but by his willingness
to step down from power
after only one term.
Given the sweep of his life,
the scope of his accomplishments,
the adoration that
he so rightly earned,
it's tempting I think to
remember Nelson Mandela
as an icon, smiling and serene,
detached from the tawdry
affairs of lesser men.
But Madiba himself
strongly resisted
such a lifeless portrait.
[applause]
Instead, Madiba insisted
on sharing with us
his doubts and his fears;
his miscalculations
along with his victories.
"I am not a saint," he said,
"unless you think of a saint 
as a sinner who keeps on trying."
It was precisely because he
could admit to imperfection --
because he could be so full
of good humor, even mischief,
despite the heavy
burdens he carried --
that we loved him so.
He was not a bust
made of marble;
he was a man of
flesh and blood --
a son and a husband,
a father and a friend.
And that's why we
learned so much from him,
and that's why we can
learn from him still.
For nothing he achieved
was inevitable.
In the arc of his life,
we see a man who earned
his place in history through
struggle and shrewdness,
and persistence and faith.
He tells us what is possible
not just in the pages
of history books,
but in our own
lives as well.
Mandela showed us
the power of action;
of taking risks on
behalf of our ideals.
Perhaps Madiba was
right that he inherited,
"a proud rebelliousness,
a stubborn sense of fairness"
from his father.
And we know he
shared with millions
of black and colored
South Africans
the anger born of,
"a thousand slights,
a thousand indignities,
a thousand
unremembered moments...
a desire to fight the system
that imprisoned
my people," he said.
But like other early
giants of the ANC --
the Sisulus and Tambos --
Madiba disciplined his
anger and channeled his desire
to fight into organization,
and platforms,
and strategies for action,
so men and women could stand
up for their God-given dignity.
Moreover, he accepted the
consequences of his actions,
knowing that standing
up to powerful interests
and injustice carries a price.
"I have fought against
white domination
and I have fought
against black domination.
I've cherished the ideal
of a democratic and free society
in which all persons live
together in harmony
and [with] equal opportunities.
It is an ideal which I hope
to live for and to achieve.
But if needs be, it is an ideal
for which I am prepared to die."
[applause]
Mandela taught us
the power of action,
but he also taught us
the power of ideas;
the importance of
reason and arguments;
the need to study not only
those who you agree with,
but also those who
you don't agree with.
He understood that ideas cannot
be contained by prison walls,
or extinguished by
a sniper's bullet.
He turned his trial into
an indictment of apartheid
because of his eloquence
and his passion,
but also because of his
training as an advocate.
He used decades in prison
to sharpen his arguments,
but also to spread
his thirst for knowledge
to others in the movement.
And he learned the language
and the customs of his oppressor
so that one day he
might better convey to them
how their own freedom
depends upon his.
[applause]
Mandela demonstrated that
action and ideas are not enough.
No matter how right,
they must be chiseled
into law and institutions.
He was practical,
testing his beliefs
against the hard surface
of circumstance and history.
On core principles
he was unyielding,
which is why he could rebuff
offers of unconditional release,
reminding the Apartheid regime
that "prisoners cannot
enter into contracts."
But as he showed in painstaking
negotiations to transfer power
and draft new laws,
he was not afraid to compromise
for the sake of a larger goal.
And because he was not only
a leader of a movement
but a skillful politician,
the Constitution that emerged
was worthy of this
multiracial democracy,
true to his vision of laws
that protect minority as well
as majority rights,
and the precious freedoms
of every South African.
And finally,
Mandela understood
the ties that bind
the human spirit.
There is a word in
South Africa -- Ubuntu --
(applause)
-- a word that captures
Mandela's greatest gift:
his recognition that we
are all bound together
in ways that are
invisible to the eye;
that there is
a oneness to humanity;
that we achieve ourselves by
sharing ourselves with others,
and caring for those around us.
We can never know how much of
this sense was innate in him,
or how much was shaped in
a dark and solitary cell.
But we remember the gestures,
large and small --
introducing his jailers
as honored guests
at his inauguration;
taking a pitch in
a Springbok uniform;
turning his family's
heartbreak into a call
to confront HIV/AIDS --
that revealed the
depth of his empathy
and his understanding.
He not only embodied Ubuntu,
he taught millions to find
that truth within themselves.
It took a man like Madiba
to free not just the prisoner,
but the jailer as well --
(applause)
-- to show that you
must trust others
so that they may trust you;
to teach that reconciliation
is not a matter of
ignoring a cruel past,
but a means of confronting it
with inclusion and
generosity and truth.
He changed laws,
but he also changed hearts.
For the people of South Africa,
for those he inspired
around the globe,
Madiba's passing is
rightly a time of mourning,
and a time to celebrate
a heroic life.
But I believe it should
also prompt in each of us
a time for self-reflection.
With honesty, regardless of
our station or our circumstance,
we must ask: How well
have I applied his lessons
in my own life?
It's a question I ask myself,
as a man and as a President.
We know that, like South Africa,
the United States
had to overcome
centuries of
racial subjugation.
As was true here,
it took sacrifice --
the sacrifice of countless
people, known and unknown,
to see the dawn of a new day.
Michelle and I are
beneficiaries of that struggle.
[applause]
But in America,
and in South Africa,
and in countries
all around the globe,
we cannot allow our
progress to cloud the fact
that our work is not yet done.
The struggles that
follow the victory
of formal equality
or universal franchise
may not be as filled with drama
and moral clarity
as those that came before,
but they are no less important.
For around the world today,
we still see children suffering
from hunger and disease.
We still see run-down schools.
We still see young people
without prospects
for the future.
Around the world today,
men and women
are still imprisoned
for their political beliefs,
and are still persecuted
for what they look like,
and how they worship,
and who they love.
That is happening today.
[applause]
And so we, too,
must act on behalf of justice.
We, too, must act
on behalf of peace.
There are too many people who
happily embrace Madiba's legacy
of racial reconciliation,
but passionately resist
even modest reforms that would 
challenge chronic poverty
and growing inequality.
There are too many leaders
who claim solidarity
with Madiba's
struggle for freedom,
but do not tolerate dissent
from their own people.
[applause]
And there are too many
of us on the sidelines,
comfortable in
complacency or cynicism
when our voices must be heard.
The questions we face today --
how to promote
equality and justice;
how to uphold freedom
and human rights;
how to end conflict
and sectarian war --
these things do not
have easy answers.
But there were no easy answers
in front of that child
born in World War I.
Nelson Mandela reminds us
that it always seems
impossible until it is done.
South Africa shows that is true.
South Africa shows
we can change,
that we can choose a world
defined not by our differences,
but by our common hopes.
We can choose a world
defined not by conflict,
but by peace and
justice and opportunity.
We will never see the likes
of Nelson Mandela again.
But let me say to
the young people of Africa
and the young people
around the world --
you, too, can make
his life's work your own.
Over 30 years ago,
while still a student,
I learned of Nelson Mandela
and the struggles taking place 
in this beautiful land,
and it stirred something in me.
It woke me up
to my responsibilities
to others and to myself,
and it set me on
an improbable journey
that finds me here today.
And while I will always fall
short of Madiba's example,
he makes me want
to be a better man.
[applause]
He speaks to what's
best inside us.
After this great
liberator is laid to rest,
and when we have returned
to our cities and villages
and rejoined our daily routines,
let us search for his strength.
Let us search for
his largeness of spirit
somewhere inside of ourselves.
And when the night grows dark,
when injustice weighs
heavy on our hearts,
when our best-laid plans
seem beyond our reach,
let us think of Madiba and the
words that brought him comfort
within the four
walls of his cell:
"It matters not
how strait the gate,
how charged with
punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul."
What a magnificent soul it was.
We will miss him deeply.
May God bless the memory
of Nelson Mandela.
May God bless the
people of South Africa.
[applause]
