FROM OUR AFRICA CORRESPONDENT

FOR those who stubbornly persisted in believing that one day peace would be possible among South Africans—black, brown and white—the release of Mr Nelson Mandela from prison had long seemed the essential first step. His liberation would show that the country's white government was open to reform. It would fulfil anti-apartheid campaigners' favourite slogan. And it would give blacks a leader whose near-mythical reputation had hoisted him above the rivalries and dogmas that afflict so many of his followers. Only Mr Mandela could lead the blacks into talks with the government.

On February 11th the myth stepped outside his prison gate and walked a few steps before ducking into a car to escape the shouts of the world's press. In their different ways South Africans of all colours and convictions are still trying to catch their breath.

The first result of Mr Mandela's freedom has been uncontrollable crowds. On the day he left prison masses of people squeezed hip-to-hip into Cape Town's biggest square. Mr Mandela turned up three hours later than the crowds had expected. While they waited, a series of temporarily inanimate bodies was hauled out of the jam, while on the outskirts of the rally wild young blacks looted shops and bombarded policemen with bottles, and got shotgun pellets in return. The crowds were just as big in Soweto the next day. At least 100 people have been injured in the excitement and the fringe violence, and some of them have died.

South Africans will not forget the day Mr Mandela was released. The impact on politics will take longer to show, but the first signs of what it might be are starting to take shape. To begin with, black politics should now become more flexible.

Although the state of emergency remains in force, and soldiers continue to patrol some townships, many blacks are now ready to be told that their tactics—in particular, the boycotting of white-created political institutions—need modification. Their leaders therefore have a freer hand than ever before. Mr Mandela and the African National Congress (ANC) may soon be in a position to suspend the “armed struggle” and start talking to the government with little fear of being called soft. Their rivals in the Pan-Africanist Congress, who sniff at President F.W. de Klerk's concessions, can probably be ignored.

For the moment Mr Mandela is making sure of his base. He has talked much of his loyalty to the ANC, lest anyone think him ready to negotiate with the government over his comrades' heads. At his first rally he won the loudest cheers with his praise for the armed struggle and for the Communist party's contribution to the black cause. The next day he told journalists that he still believed in nationalisation. As a precondition for any concessions on his part, Mr Mandela is insisting on the lifting of the state of emergency and an amnesty for politically motivated crimes.

This is stern stuff, which will infuriate South Africa's white right-wingers and make white liberals gulp a bit. Some people think that Mr de Klerk, noting this and hoping for some fading of foreign pressure on his government, may refuse to make more concessions unless the ANC promises something in return. In fact, the president shows no sign of faltering on his chosen course. His ministers have made the most of Mr Mandela's more generous remarks—that he regards Mr de Klerk as a man of integrity, that he looks forward to the time when it is possible to halt the armed struggle, and that the ANC does not want to frighten whites. The tougher talk, the ministers explain, is Mr Mandela's party-line duty, inevitable at the moment.

You can talk about anything

In short, new black flexibility could generate more white flexibility. It is being suggested by people around the government that nothing in today's South Africa—the voting system, residential segregation, the future of the “independent” homelands—is beyond negotiation, so long as the whites are given some guarantees against being swamped. The reformers in the ruling National party favour a comprehensive anti-apartheid bill that would abolish all discriminatory laws at once. The government's chief negotiator, Mr Gerrit Viljoen, says that in ten years' time his party will have a minority role in government, if that.

Mr de Klerk insists there will be room at the negotiating table for a wide variety of parties. But the prospect of talks involving the ANC makes some other politicians feel uncomfortable. Mr Allan Hendrickse, the leader of the mixed-race chamber of parliament, did as much as anyone to discomfit the government two years ago; now nobody mentions him. The mainly white Democratic party also feels forgotten; some of its leaders are rumoured to be on the point of joining the ANC.

The rulers of the ten black “homelands” are the most uncomfortable of all. In BophuthaTswana and Ciskei they have seen sizeable numbers of their people demonstrating in favour of reincorporation into South Africa. Transkei's leader has sensibly called a referendum to allow his people a chance to vote themselves back into South Africa. Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi, whose Zulu power base makes him stronger than any other homeland leader, seems equally nervous. As the world watches Mr Mandela, Mr Buthelezi insists that he too has opposed apartheid, and deserves some credit for it.

Over the past three years the bloody feud in the province of Natal between Mr Buthelezi's followers and blacks who regard him as too restrained has killed, on average, ten people a week. Mr Mandela's release produced a fresh wave of killings, as Mr Buthelezi's Inkatha party walked out of peace talks with its opponents. After the euphoria of his release, Mr Mandela needs to demonstrate his capacity for statesmanship. His first opportunity comes in Natal.