A Lesson in the Power of Pictures : Television: The images of Nelson Mandela give a different message than the words spoken by--and about--the freed African National Congress leader.

One of our most enduring myths is the one about a picture equaling a thousand words. Only occasionally does that happen.

Pictures are “images, directly entering the bloodstream, bypassing the brain,” Bill Jay writes in the Washington Journalism Review. “They are about seeing, not knowing.”

Although refering to photographs, Jay’s definition also applies to television--the picture medium.

Because of its dependence on pictures, television is uniquely equipped to capture seemingly epic moments that are simultaneously translated as emotions and frozen in our minds.

The subject could be Richard Nixon defiantly thrusting his arms in the air before leaving the White House for good . . . or a Chinese student bravely confronting a tank . . . or Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev charming the media . . . or massive throngs demonstrating in East Europe . . . or Germans hacking away at the Berlin Wall.

Or former political prisoner Nelson R. Mandela.

It was very early Sunday morning (United States time) when Mandela was freed in South Africa, ending 27 years of imprisonment by the white minority government. And almost immediately the television pictures--the kind that give you chills--began:

Mandela and his wife, Winnie--”the first lady of the movement,” NBC’s Tom Brokaw would remark Tuesday from Soweto--walking hand in hand from Victor Verster prison farm. . . . Mandela in a limo, returning the black solidarity salute of a euphoric supporter whose smiling image was reflected in the car window. . . . Joyous blacks dancing in the streets of Soweto to celebrate Mandela’s release. You wanted to join them.

And capping that first day, there was Mandela in Cape Town, with the South African Broadcasting Corp. (SABC) supplying live TV pictures of him to foreign networks, pictures not available live within South Africa. There Mandela stood giving his speech, tall, erect, dignified, resolute, a legend at once humanized and magnified beyond all possible reality.

Because of technical problems, SABC was forced to televise Mandela’s evening address with available light, giving the picture a sort of ethereal rosy glow that--with his comrades and supporters pressing in on him from all sides--added to Mandela’s image of a Christ-like figure ringed by disciples.

As they would in the next few days, his words addressed the still-grim reality of South Africa, not only that of still-existing apartheid, but also that of internal divisions that threaten the black movement to end apartheid.

As they would in the next few days, the TV pictures of him enhanced unreal expectations that he would single-handedly sweep away that reality.

The words were about knowing, the more-powerful pictures about seeing.

Skip forward now to Tuesday, and Mandela’s delayed, long-awaited return to his home in Soweto. The media were there (Ted Koppel hosted Monday night’s “Nightline” from a flatbed truck outside the Mandela residence). Mandela’s people were there.

Cut to a soccer stadium, where a boisterous crowd, estimated at more than 100,000, waits. CNN relays the SABC pictures live to the United States, where it’s early morning.

And finally there he is, his gray head barely visible above his entourage and the surrounding crush of media. There he is, in front of a monolithic backdrop of black South Africans saluting him with their fists. There he is, walking in front of them like a triumphant athlete taking a slow victory lap.

No matter how much he attempts to lower his own profile within the anti-apartheid movement, and no matter how much TV journalists echo his cautionary rhetoric in their reporting, the pictures and the sheer volume of the media attention on him (monitoring his every movement and action) deliver another message: This man is a virtual head of state, a leader of a unified nation. This man cannot be stopped. This man is a savior.

Wrong.

This man is not even free. This man cannot even vote. This man cannot even live where he chooses to live. In effect, this man himself has been released from one prison into another.

Pictures do tell stories, but often incomplete, misleading ones.

The defiant Richard Nixon was actually leaving the White House in disgrace. It was the tanks, not the students who ultimately triumphed in Tian An Men Square. Gorbachev’s smiles masked critical problems. The throngs in East Europe and the human demolition squads at the Berlin Wall signified a transition whose results have yet to be charted.

And, despite what we see, Nelson Mandela does not walk on water.

Everyone is saying that now, trimming him to mortal size while giving him his due as a remarkable and influential leader. After the experts have weighed in with their analyses, however, the words will fade as always, and the pictures and emotions will endure. And so will the grand expectations of Mandela.