Paata Shevardnadze

Father, you are turning 70. I do not know if this is young or old. For some it may be fairly old, but not for you. I have seen a 19 year-old who seemed to feel a hundred. But when I watch you, and observe your manner, the concept of age becomes relative and I  get convinced that calendars record not biological, but merely astronomical notions.

Some time ago, a foreign colleague asked me: “Isn’t it difficult to live in such a shadow?” I laughed, and answered, “I wish all could live under such a shadow.” Not all shadows are the same. Take a shadow of a booth or some other man-made structure, and compare it to the shadow of a great oak or a walnut tree. In the former, you feel out of breath, and are desperate to escape. Yet because of the heat, you choose to remain. It is hell. But different is a shadow where there is a lot of light, it is easy to breathe, and you can hear the breeze of life riffling through the leaves. Any desire to run away seems madness. I say all this for the benefit of those who believe that being a child of a great man gives one a sense of insecurity, or distorts his thinking. But it is not the child, but the father who makes the difference.

I have always maintained that of many millions of people, I am so fortunate to be your son. Understand me correctly, it is not because you are a famous, internationally renowned figure. I have also said that if you had had an ordinary profession, you would have been just as special to me, and your shadow would have been as life giving to me as it is today.

One revolutionary who for obvious reasons is not very popular today, remarked, “a hot heart, a cold mind, and clean hands.” If this formula fits anyone, it certainly fits you. Through remarkable diligence and titanic effort, you have adhered to this creed throughout your entire life.

A friend of mine once called you the ‘Mozart of politics.’ This is an extremely apt description. Mozart, the consummate improviser, was the epitome of spontaneity and intuitiveness. It was said that God himself dictated to Mozart. I know you would argue with me and say that no intuition exists without hard work and purpose. Yet I will continue to maintain:  hard work, constant mental exercise, determination - all together can only make someone an accomplished professional. But an elect few, apart from these qualities, do possess a gift.  Some call it a divine touch, others call it intuition. I am more fatalistic and I believe that whether you acknowledge it or not, you have this ‘something’  that made Mozart, Einstein, Kant, all unique among men.
 

In this connection, I recall the phrase that “politics is the art of the possible.” This is about politics in general. In your case, however, we can say that politics is the art of the impossible. I need be no more specific than that. Anyone who surveys your accomplishments in a purely objective fashion, will grasp my paraphrase.

Finally, about the quality which many find inexplicable. Most people acknowledge that there is an enormous gap between politics and morality. These two things seem mutually exclusive and in constant conflict. Sadly, there are many historical examples that uphold this supposition. I do not know of another politician who has so clearly demonstrated not only in word but in deed, that the opposite can be true.

Upholding the notion of “kindness and the individual as the centrepiece of politics” is a particularly revolutionary idea at the dawn of the 21st Century. It is your inherent creed rather than an attempt to adhere to an artificially constructed model.

“Two things surprise me, as time passes. One is the star spangled sky, and the other is the moral law guiding me from within.” These words were spoken two centuries ago, yet have never been more relevant than today. I do not think that anyone more than you - the Laureate of the Kant Prize - has internalised this feeling.

Many happy returns.
 

Mshvidoba Kovelta.
25 January, 1998