The Enduring Power of “It Always Seems Impossible Until It’s Done”
Nelson Mandela’s assertion that “it always seems impossible until it’s done” emerged from a life so extraordinary that it seems almost impossible itself. The man who would become the first Black president of South Africa and one of the twentieth century’s most revered moral leaders spent twenty-seven years imprisoned for his opposition to apartheid, a system of institutionalized racial segregation that defined South African society from 1948 to the early 1990s. During his incarceration on Robben Island, Mandela endured brutal conditions, performing hard labor in limestone quarries and living in a cell barely larger than a modern closet. Yet it was during these decades of deprivation that Mandela developed and refined his philosophy of reconciliation, nonviolence, and human dignity. The quote captures the essence of his life’s work: the transformation of the seemingly immutable into the achieved, the impossible into the inevitable.
To understand the full weight of this statement, one must first understand the man who spoke it. Rolihlahla Mandela was born in 1918 in the Eastern Cape province to a Thembu royal family, though his father’s loss of status meant he was not born into material privilege. His childhood nickname, “Nelson,” came from his English teacher—a common practice among colonized peoples of the time—and would become the name by which the world knew him. Unlike many revolutionary leaders who came from abject poverty, Mandela received a quality education and studied law, becoming one of the first Black attorneys in South Africa. This education and privileged upbringing within his community might have allowed him a comfortable life of professional success, yet he chose instead to risk everything for a vision of justice that seemed, at the moment of his commitment, utterly unattainable.
Mandela’s political awakening came gradually rather than suddenly. He joined the African National Congress (ANC) in 1944, initially embracing nonviolent resistance tactics influenced by Mahatma Gandhi’s philosophy. For over a decade, he participated in peaceful protests and civil disobedience campaigns against increasingly oppressive apartheid laws. However, as peaceful resistance was met with state violence and escalating brutality, Mandela made the controversial decision to authorize armed resistance in 1961, becoming the commander of the ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe. This decision—though necessary in his view—would be the direct cause of his arrest and conviction in 1962. Few people realize that Mandela himself struggled deeply with the question of when, if ever, violence could be justified, and this internal conflict never fully left him, even as circumstances pushed him toward armed resistance.
The famous quote likely originated during Mandela’s presidency or in the years immediately following his release from prison in 1990, when he reflected on the anti-apartheid struggle that had seemed, for decades, to be an unwinnable battle against an entrenched and brutal system. From the perspective of the 1960s, when apartheid appeared to be a permanent feature of South African life, the notion that this system could be dismantled through determined resistance seemed precisely that—impossible. The government had overwhelming military power, international support from Western Cold War allies, and deep entrenchment in every institution. Yet Mandela and the ANC persisted, even as he languished in prison, unable to participate directly in the very struggle he had helped initiate. The movement continued without him, growing stronger, attracting international attention and support, and ultimately making apartheid unsustainable. By the time of Mandela’s release, what had seemed impossible had become not merely possible but inevitable.
What many people don’t know about Mandela is the extent to which he was willing to compromise and evolve his thinking to achieve his goals. While imprisoned, he studied not only law and philosophy but also the languages and cultures of his oppressors, becoming fluent in Afrikaans and developing genuine personal relationships with some of his guards. Upon his release, he astounded many in the liberation movement by his willingness to negotiate directly with President F.W. de Klerk and other white South African leaders. Rather than seeking revenge against those who had imprisoned him, he promoted the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which allowed perpetrators of apartheid violence to confess their crimes in exchange for amnesty. This approach was deeply controversial—many victims and activists felt justice was being sacrificed for pragmatism—yet Mandela believed it was the only way to build a lasting, unified nation. His willingness to shift tactics, forgive his enemies, and embrace nuance in pursuit of his ultimate goal of a free, united South Africa demonstrated that “doing the impossible” required not just determination but flexibility and wisdom.
The cultural impact of this quote has been profound and broad-reaching, extending far beyond South African politics into the realm of motivational wisdom. In the decades since apartheid’s fall, the quote has been invoked by entrepreneurs launching startups, athletes breaking records, activists pursuing social justice, and individuals overcoming personal obstacles. It appears on motivational posters, in business seminars, at commencement addresses, and in self-help literature. The quote’s universal appeal lies in its profound truth: human perception of possibility is not fixed but malleable. What seems impossible to us today may become routine tomorrow, provided we have the courage, persistence, and wisdom to pursue it. In this sense, the quote transcends Mandela’s specific historical context to become a template for understanding human potential and progress.
Yet the quote also carries important nu