:: Wednesday, August 11, 2004 ::

Headliners

Impunity (The White House Press Corps)

"Last week's convention of minority journalists was the largest ever—7,000 strong. Kerry spoke: standing ovation. Bush spoke: no ovation. Traditionalists in the press said: unprofessional! Critics on the right cried foul. UNITY, coalition of minority voices, didn't know what to say. And group think appealed to all."

Jay Rosen opens the scabrous wounds of several heated debates in that short paragraph, and reactions to his posts explore responses given the Bush and Kerry Show at the UNITY Convention, journalistic codes of behavior, and the standing of minority journalists.

I'm still wondering what the buzz is about. As far as I can make out, seven thousand top-drawer journalists drawn from minorities under-represented in U.S. newsrooms gathered in Washington to thrash out issues concerning them and the media. They invited George W. Bush and John F. Kerry to address them. In a presidential election year, a refusal to speak would have been electoral suicide. Kerry spoke to a standing ovation and Bush to stony silence.

So what's the problem? The right, using every opening to perpetuate racism in the newsroom, used circular argument, vacuous definitions of professionalism, and hollow but vindictive rhetoric to slam delegates for 'unprofessional conduct'. This has inflamed debate around non-issues, strengthening the hold on editorial offices of those who shout, "See, there's good reason we don't allow spics, latinos, niggers, Koreans and Muslimoids in here."

If that's professional journalism, give me un-professional journalism every time.

And that's another problem. So-called progressive reaction to the right's interpretation of the receptions given Bush and Kerry has been potentially self-defeating. Those who address allegations of 'unprofessional conduct' as a debating point are wasting their time and energy. These red herrings are divisive non-issues.

As far as response to the speakers is concerned, I'd ask whether journalists at the UNITY love fest were attending as delegates or as reporters. If they were delegates, they were private citizens first, journalists second. Just how does one expect minorities—who were abused to give Bush the 2000 election—to receive the smirking, ignorant and ill-prepared president of the U.S.A.? With open arms? And how does one expect them to receive a gregarious and forthcoming Kerry? With a stony silence?

Well, yes. I cannot understand why delegates gave Kerry a standing ovation. By the same token, I cannot understand why they allowed Bush attend at all. It would make some sense if Kerry's reception was engineered solely to highlight disdain felt for Bush. But Kerry is as much an enemy to minorities as any member of the Bush Gang. To preserve the white-male domination of government and business, Kerry would see minorities herded into cattle trucks, shipped off to Arizona and made to sew mailbags till Kingdom come. He is as different to Dubya as an apple is to an orange. While an apple doesn't have bastards, it's still a fruit.

Do UNITY members not see this?

One argument could be that Kerry was there as the representative of a political party that professes—despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary—to stand for all that is good, right and just in the Constitution of the United States. For that reason, he might have been tolerated but, hell, everybody knows he's as much into bondage as the incumbent president.

Okay, so why was Bush, who is good only for gaffes, invited or allowed to speak? He represents the party (remember, he's there for himself and the GOP, not the presidency) openly standing for everything minorities loathe. I don't know. Ten years ago, in South Africa, you did not get members of an oppressive regime wandering in to such fora. On occasion, politicians would try to muscle their way in, but every attempt ended in violence. Why? Because those on the receiving end of discriminatory legislation refused to be mocked by those who sought their enslavement. They knew that, to be heard, they would need to send a strong message. So they locked down and told the state to go to hell.

Either the UNITY people, as Americans, are into civility in a big way or they've refined servility to an art. The depth, scope and pragmatism of advertised convention workshops give the lie to the latter assumption, but the sooner UNITY realizes continuing to bow and scrape before the great white chief perpetuates oppression, the better.

Accommodation is comforting, but it's also delusional.

Another thing. Did the Bush-Kerry show demonstrate the power of UNITY? Yes and no. As said before, only a political suicide would ignore a captive audience of 7,000 journalists. It's a powerful lobby in anybody's book. But while coverage given the event by the mainstream press drew attention to the movement's inherent strength, it highlighted its dependence on a media establishment that despises and turns on its members. We see this in media attribution of unethical or unprofessional conduct to delegates scorning Bush.

In other words, publicity tells us the UNITY movement has numbers, but it allows its clout to be defined by media that refuse to include its members. That's not something about which it should boast. Dependence militates against independence. Just how far is the ever-accommodating UNITY prepared to go to see affirmative action implemented in the newsroom?

The right is laughing right now. I'd say that while UNITY cheers the likes of Kerry, conservatives have every reason to gloat. Their small victories are being mirrored everywhere, from Najaf to DC. They're certainly not political or ideological victories. We're seeing the triumph of rampant consumerism. Most of us are, at heart, Oliver Twists and all we really want is "...some more." Like manipulative drug lords, the U.S. administration allows sufficient consumer goods (and media are consumable goods) to trickle down to dependent markets and, whaddayaknow? Sniff, sniff...

Consumerism is the opiate of the masses. It keeps them satisfied and reins them in, whether in the newsroom, at the ballot box or on patrol. There is no longer room for idealists and revolutionaries in what has become the New American Century. Like it or not, black or white, rich or poor, journalists or otherwise, we are all neocons now—wired men in suits. Groupthink rules. It is, after all, the Bush and Kerry Show.

"We didn't come here to the nation's capital to celebrate." ... "You know why we're here. Too few blacks. Too few journalists of color are employed in America's newsroom."

Herbert Lowe, President of the National Association of Black Journalists

Note The above is an ad hoc response (my day job demands I get some sleep) to Jay Rosen's first two posts on the subject. He's posted far more. I realise my comments might sound critical of him—for raising 'non-issues'—and UNITY—for not setting fire to newsrooms across the U.S. And my observation of our newfound global neo-con status derives from sentiments better expressed by William Cook in The Rape of Philomela at Counterpunch. Yet, although I feel my language precludes nuance, my criticisms are not intended as barbs. Impatient by nature, I see them aligning themselves with incoming responses to Jay's initial post.

Ernest Sotomayor, UNITY's president, guest blogs on Jay's site and spells out his organisation's position on media response to delegates' reactions to Bush and Kerry. "Huh?" seems to sum it up. In other words, "What's the issue?" "Where's the story?" "What are you people talking about?" Etcetera. Importantly, Sotomayor details UNITY's reasons for bringing Bush and Kerry to the party:

"The reasons for having the candidates are simple and as journalistically sound as ever: to raise issues that are important to the people in the communities from where we came, but aren’t parts of the discussions on the campaign trail. They include questions about sovereignty on Indian reservations, media ownership, affirmative action, Filipino-American veterans getting their dues, immigration, etc. If we felt we had more people in the press corps who understood these issues, or understood that they are important to tens of millions of Americans, there wouldn’t have been a need for us to ask the candidates to appear before us and discuss them." ... "As for the charge that we’re activists, the plea is guilty. We advocate for fair, representative, accurate journalism, by changing the complexion of newsrooms, not just racially and ethnically, but through the natural diversity of thought that occurs when you bring in people with different backgrounds."

In his post, Sotomayor acknowledges important issues being given only "cursory examination". Appropriately, he seems to point out that while these issues may be important to UNITY, a refusal by the establishment to acknowledge their import leads to problems for society as a whole.

The social nature of the problem is highlighted by Jay following Sotomayor's post with a guest blog by TV news veteran Terry Heaton. Heaton questions UNITY members' approach to managing diversity in the workplace and argues against some consequential typecasting. Doing so, he shows a signal lack of appreciation for what Sotomayor is aiming at in the italicised text above. In other words, he does not realise that the problem is his or that his view is, to put it kindly, anachronistic and of a type that leads to tokenism. The vacuity of Heaton's view is pointed out by Andres Martinez, backed by a succinct comment from Tim Porter, who examines entrenched, ass-about-face attitudes here.

Hmm... I do tend to blog on the run. I see Tim Porter covering the same ground more effectively and in greater depth than I'm able to. Happy in the knowledge that bloggers are not necessarily journalists, I urge you to read his blog post for a clearer, journalistic perspective.

A last point. Given the failure of affirmative action to effect change in North American newsrooms and the mindsets of those occupying them, surely it's time minority journalists asked themselves whether they really want to go there? As new and alternative media take hold in increasingly fragmented societies, journalists are needed more than ever before. Why forsake UNITY for membership of old media? Why not jump ship and learn to swim before they do. Lead. Don't follow.



:: Mike Golby 11:56 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Monday, August 09, 2004 ::

Withdrawals

Hi Chris

[Yeah, I'm begging. But I cannot countenance shame. It is for losers, whores and fools and I am none of these things. I am a blogger and... well, I guess that about says it.]

A while ago I mailed you to let you know our dumbass national service provider would soon be killing my broadband and mail account. They have, the bastards, and I'm missing out on EGR updates. It's worse than detox and as unhealthy, a severe jolt to the system and my general wellbeing. In short, without my occasional reminder there's intelligent, articulate, gracious and gently humorous life on the Web (I speak, of course, of your good self), life is--quite frankly--not worth its living.

Please change my mail address to mgolby-at-mweb.co.za.

There would normally, I assure you, be a small pecuniary inducement attached to this request, but I've just had to 'consolidate my debts' and the coffers are, to put it mildly and in the face of fast-escalating medical costs (I'm the only sane person in my household), bare. In short, I am fiscally fucked. But that is neither here nor there and I rest comfortable in the knowledge that parlous financial states are not unknown to you. I've never really had a chance to get used to riding high on the hog so, like you, I don't mind. Compared to a bus ride in Boulder, a taxi ride in Cape Town is quite something.

I do mind missing my medication though. Although I have suggested the South African Medicines Control Board consider EGR's long-term therapeutic benefits, I'm not holding my breath. Unless accompanied by fat brown envelopes stuffed with unmarked bills, bureaucrats the world over are all the same. Unable to get EGR registered for immediate state funding, I am starting to get the shakes. I feel simultaneously hot and cold and nausea has taken hold. I've developed tics and my muscles are going into spasm.

Please change my e-mail address and alleviate these symptoms. Your posts are always appreciated and, unlike most of your ungrateful subscribers (bar Steve Larsen and the one who sent you the Lear jet), I do visit the site and follow the links. How else would I know what the hell you're talking about? When things look up on the financial front, I promise you a cup of coffee. Mind you, I could promise a second Lear jet or a consignment of Wisconsin cheese, but that would be stretching it a bit.

Yeah. I can do without broadband. EGR? No. I remain an addict.

As ever...




:: Mike Golby 10:40 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

The Cruelest Cut

The Cruelest Cut [Graphic by Catt]

delusional i believed i could cure it all for you dear | coax or trick or drive or drag the demons from you | make it right for you sleeping beauty

The Thursday before last, I took my thirteen-year old daughter to be assessed for admission to Groote Schuur Hospital's Adolescents and Young Adults Programme. Conducted intermittently at the now defunct William Slater Hospital—a tumbledown, neo-gothic building in suburban Rondebosch, the long-running programme was of immense benefit to my elder daughter several years ago. The next programme, the only of its kind serving the Western Cape's nine million people, runs in September.

A visit to 'Slater' evokes memories. Once home to an unending stream of in-patient alcoholics, it ran out-patient programmes that added immeasurably to the lives of addled adults partial but allergic to the demon brew. My wife was admitted twice and I attended individual and group therapy there over about two years (in the brown room with the glass partition).

That was some twenty to twenty-five years ago. Since then, the place has fallen into increasing disrepair and now looks fit only to be condemned or used as a set for a low-budget horror flick. The old billiard table in the former dining room, which once hosted a swarm of shaky barflies, and the library, with many of the never-read novels of the time locked behind their glass-fronted doors, are still there. So too are the forty-something-year old lounge chairs from which hair-raising stories of inebriated madness were related on long, boring nights before medication and lights out. Even the magazines in the waiting room date back to 1986.

The wooden floors shine and the place is well dusted and clean. But offices once filled with psychiatric staff are now empty. With the staff complement reduced to about a dozen, nurses no longer patrol the corridor and there are no lines outside the dispensary. Dormitories are deserted and old doors remain closed. Everything is decaying, breaking, rotting or falling down. Paint peels as rising damp and a leaking roof take their toll. Sections of cornice from aged walls that could tell Cape Town's broken-life stories from the past century lie shattered on the floor. Outside, a shuffling tip of the cap to maintenance shuffles a broom and cadges a smoke.

South Africa's mental health sector, like much of the country's infrastructure, is crumbling fast.


Sleeping Beauty [Graphic by Catt]

drunk on ego truly thought i could make it right | if i kissed you one more time to help you face the nightmare | but you're far too poisoned for me

Kerry Cullinan of Health-e takes up the story in a Cape Times article my daughter and I stumbled on as I was writing this:

The Centre, officially a ward of Groote Schuur Hospital, is a rundown house in Rondebosch that offers help to teens with psychological problems. Headed by Dr Nick Shortall, an overworked but dedicated psychiatrist, William Slater faces the difficult task of trying to meet a growing need with dwindling resources. The only institution of its kind in the province, the Centre is classified as a tertiary institution. With health resources now being directed to primary care, this means that as staff have left or died, they have not been replaced.

Yeah, my elder daughter's therapist, a wonderful guy named John, died of a heart attack in a bank. He was not replaced. Dispensable to the state, he gave my daughter enormous support. Shortall, looking older and more harried than he did a couple of years ago, exudes the same positive energy he did then. It's the energy of a man determined to deliver quality health care in a country the World Health Organization ranked 175 out of 190 in 2000.

Cullinan, one of health-e's high-powered editorial team, continues:

"The kids we are seeing now are more damaged than they were even six months ago," says Shortall. "Ten years ago, the average kid here was a white under-performer. Today, 80 percent of the kids come from the Cape Flats. They are failing academically and socially. They are on the fringes of gang culture. Frequently, they have been raped or sexually abused and are on the periphery of drugs," he said. Shortall believes that the damage is the result of the lethal combination of increased pressures of society on children, poverty, unemployment, crime, drugs and prostitution. "Families are disjointed and find it difficult to contain children and adolescents," he adds.

The teens come to William Slater suffering from depression, attempted suicide, disruptive behaviour, post-traumatic stress and drug addiction. Many are on the brink of being expelled from school, and have been referred from their schools, doctors or hospitals. "We always see the family," says Shortall. "You can’t change the adolescent without the family changing. We might have one to three sessions with the family, Thereafter, we offer individual, family and group work," he says.

Apparently "...around 125 teens and their parents benefit from short-term interventions, while there is space for 50 teens a year to get more intensive attention as day patients." Chatting to staff, I discovered that William Slater is allocated funds by Groote Schuur. With the Department of Psychiatry at Groote Schuur severely under funded, William Slater is not even on the map.

The writing is on the wall. In South Africa, psychiatry is not, and will not become, a priority. The state's plans for the health sector over the next five years, outlined in Strategic Priorities for the National Health System 2004-2009 (pdf), fob it off.

To strengthen mental health and decrease substance abuse a range of initiatives have been implemented. These include: the promulgation of the Mental Health Care Act; the integration of mental health into PHC services; drafting of regulations to restrict advertisements of alcohol and introducing of warning labels on the harmful effects of alcohol; implementing violence prevention programmes for schools; developing guidelines on the treatment of rape survivors; and a suicide prevention programme for schools, which include a suicide toll free line and public awareness programmes.

Psychiatry is a specialty, not a primary health care service. The Department of Health admits as much. No wonder the World Health Organization ranks us beneath the likes of Cameroon, Congo, Namibia, Mali, Rwanda, Botswana, Niger, Equatorial Guinea and a host of supposed African basket cases (Zimbabwe's health care system is rated better than the above-mentioned countries). As someone affected by mental illness, government's ill-educated, lackadaisical, 'couldn't give a damn' attitude to health pisses me off.

It's infectious too. In Exodus of health skills substantial, Anso Thom reports "...the exodus of skilled health personnel has been substantial - 600 South African doctors are registered to practice in New Zealand while 10% of Canada’s hospital based physicians and 6% of hospital-based doctors in the United Kingdom are South African."

No stranger to being afflicted by demons, my taxes afforded me far better care twenty years ago than that now being meted out to my family. Contrary to the Minister's assertions, costs have soared and salaries have not. This is not a legacy of apartheid. Most South Africans supporting families cannot afford health insurance and some 39 million people therefore rely on dysfunctional public health services. Whereas in the States 15 percent of Americans cannot afford private health care, only 15 percent of South Africans can afford it (and that includes those working in parastatals).

SouthAfrica.info's assertion that high-income earners pay only ZAR55.00 a consultation is at least ten years out of date. Today the sky is the limit and a kid out of college would have to pay double that. At the end of my daughter's initial consultation, I was asked if I would bring her for a second so that a programme suited to her problems could be drawn up. Because a visit to a public institution costs me as much as a visit to my general practitioner (medication is free), I started thinking "Money." But what is one to do? So I said "Sure."

William Slater provides an essential service. While the state is willing to pay salaries but has cut back greatly on staff, it has retained a necessary infrastructure. The problem lies in it expecting these facilities to fund themselves by supplementing their incomes with private-sector donor funds. In the past, patrons were not too difficult to find and wealthy Cape Town families contributed quietly and without fanfare to the health of the community.

Times have changed. With neo-liberal economic policies elevating money to the status of godhead; with money falling into the wrong hands through greed, graft and corruption, with private-sector health companies fleecing everybody and anybody, and with the scions of Old Money leaving the country in droves, private funding has all but dried up. Even should donors be willing to contribute money, it is often siphoned off to more media-friendly projects, such as the Red Cross War Memorial Children's Hospital about a half-mile down the road from William Slater.

Businesses are willing to put money into 'Slater' and the youth they proclaim to be our future, but their motivation is not altogether altruistic or far-sighted. A wall recently erected around the old building was accompanied by the contributing business demanding an advertising board shouting its largesse. The administrators at Groote Schuur, heeding complaints from residents of the moneyed suburb, denied the request and the funding was withdrawn.

The signs are ominous. Kerry Cullinan tells us that "...[i]n the past, drama and art therapy were offered but budget cuts no longer allow this. Repairs to the once-grand old house also seem out of the question, and one therapy room is no longer in use as part of the roof has fallen in." The guy shouldering the load, Nick Shortall, is not about to buckle. "William Slater has been under threat of closure or relocation for the past 10 years." ... "But the department of health has finally accepted it is a centre of excellence that should be cloned not closed. So we may now supervise a similar institution in George."

My daughter's yet to receive a call for a second appointment but, being a South African, I understand and am comfortable with such delays. There is only so much to go round, people are busy and waiting lists are long. To expect treatment only four months after initiating a referral would be crazy—and for that, there is little or no help.

such a fool to think that i could wake you from your slumber | that i could actually heal you | sleeping beauty poisoned and hopeless | far beyond a visible sign of your awakening

A Perfect Circle | Sleeping Beauty



:: Mike Golby 1:09 AM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Sunday, August 08, 2004 ::

Internal Investigations

A sunlight seldom seen. Pollsmoor Prison, Cape Town.

The night aimed shadows | Through the crossbar windows, | And the wind punched hard | To make the wall-siding sing. | It's many a night I pretended to be a-sleepin', | Inside the walls, | The walls of Red Wing.

Mogamat Benjamin has been in prison for 34 years and he has killed more people—mostly fellow inmates—than he can remember. He has beheaded and mutilated their corpses. He has—along with other members of his gang—cut out his victims' hearts and eaten them in a grim semi-mystical ritual in which the life-force of the victim is supposed to pass into the bodies of the killers. more...

I wonder how old Edwin's doing. "Edwin" is Edwin Hunsaker, the 82-year old native of Salt Lake City, Utah, of whom I wrote last week. He's been incarcerated these past four-and-a-half years in Cape Town's ultimate snub to humanity, Pollsmoor Prison. It's a barbaric place. I spent one of my more recent wedding anniversaries there, speaking to my wife through a glass pane after she'd been committed to the prison's hospital. It was for her safety, they said. "It's so they needn't do anything for her," I surmised.

I was right. Our "places of safety" are anything but. Either way, my wife tells me the hospital is much like the rest of the prison and she passed a week to 10 days there before being shipped, for six or seven months, to an equally unforgiving state-subsidised rehabilitation center up the east coast. Like Hunsaker, she was accorded the status Awaiting Trial Prisoner and spent her short time behind Pollsmoor's forbidding walls socialising with fraudsters, murderers, and convicted criminals of the most exotic persuasion.

I suppose it's what some might call a learning experience. Others call it a university of crime. It certainly taught my wife a thing or two. She now gets away with murder.

But back to Edwin. Denied bail and yet to be tried for fraud and money laundering charges totalling ZAR1.5 million levelled at him and four others, things started looking up for Hunsaker when Independent Online expressed interest in his story. Last week, he had his day in court and the doughty Independent court reporter was in the Cape Town regional court to record his case being remanded for the twenty-sixth time. Reporting for the Cape Argus, Helen Bamford points out that "...[N]early two years ago the nursing services manager at the prison hospital wrote a letter to the United States consul-general expressing concern about Hunsaker's deteriorating health. ... A fifth co-accused, a 72-year-old man, died in prison two years ago."

Two years is what it takes to elicit a typically South African response and, hopefully, a solution. Ignore the problem and it will go away. I guess, with time and in prison, such an approach appears to work. Hunsaker reports having suffered 'flu for four years and has lost a lot of weight. It does not surprise me that the prison medics are unable to make the link between Hunsaker's symptoms and their close proximity to the D.P. Marais Hospital, "...a 256 bed hospital for patients with Tuberculosis, the vast majority from the squatter camps in and around Cape Town. Many are terminally ill due to the TB/HIV/AIDS combination and about one third are HIV or HIV/AIDS positive, with TB being their secondary infection. Due to acute staff shortages and financial restraints many of these patients have to wait up to four months before they are given the results of blood tests."


Mogamat and Erefaan. Judge and executioner.

As the rain rattled heavy | On the bunk-house shingles, | And the sounds in the night, | They made my ears ring. | 'Til the keys of the guards | Clicked the tune of the morning, | Inside the walls, | The walls of Red Wing.

Erefaan Jacobs is Mogamat's second-in-command. He holds the rank of Judge. It is his job to try gang members who break gang law and to decide on appropriate punishment. "When you join the gang, I will not allow any fear from you", he said. "We develop you in such a way that you will become fearless. You can only come into the camp [of the 28s] by spilling blood." more...

Despite volunteers doing what they can for prisoners and their victims, prison's a hard dollar in South Africa. The Cape Flats surrounding Cape Town hide hundreds of thousands of Mogamat Benjamins. According to Allan Little's award-nominated BBC documentary on Pollsmoor prisoners and the people who hold them and our country in check, the last time Mogamat was released from prison, he sodomised a neighbour's son in the yard and then raped his own 13 year old daughter.

Recently, I read of a 56-year old man arrested on suspicion of rape being thrown into the local Wynberg cells for the weekend. He was sodomised as soon as the cell door closed and his pleas to those in charge were ignored. This was followed by a story of awaiting trial prisoners—from Wynberg—getting back to their cells after a day in the Cape Town Magistrates' Courts. A prisoner forced to swallow a condom full of dope or crack while in town was expected to crap it out on returning to the cells. He couldn't. The details of his death are sordid. Generally accepted extraction methods lend an air of delicacy to a prostate examination. In this case, the prisoner died after several others expelled the thing from his body by repeatedly jumping on his stomach.

Edwin Hunsaker's one of thousands of lost people, many of them babies born into captivity. iAfrica.com reports "...some 25 000 accused have been in prison in South Africa awaiting trial for over three months, and some have been there since 1996." Some 16,500 are released monthly, having been wrongfully arrested. South Africa, which heads world crime statistics for just about everything, has a prison population second only to the world's great gulags, the United States and Russia. While the guilty include the 17-year-old jailed 15 years for trying to rip a gold chain from a woman's neck, the innocent include Julia Mashile, jailed for five years on suspicion of belonging to a car-theft syndicate. Never convicted, she was released after five years. In 2001, following his 1998 arrest, Colin Fortuin (28) was convicted in the Cape High Court of kidnapping, murder and rape. Having already spent six years behind bars, he's yet to be sentenced.

They say every cloud has a silver lining and I guess that's what took me to iAfrica.com. The portal tells us the subject of my Wednesday post, KwaZulu-Natal Chief of Public Prosecutions Shamila Batohi has agreed to pay her nineteen outstanding traffic fines. Yeah, I know quashing traffic offences, not paying others, speeding, driving an unlicensed vehicle and ignoring the traffic regulations are small potatoes compared to the misdemeanors of others, but the post sought to highlight a principle too frequently ignored. I can believe the Ethekwini Metro Council's assertion that Batohi had, in several cases, not been notified of having been fined. It is, as they say, par for the course. However, I'd say Advocate Batohi's driving habits illustrate her approach to the law more appropriately than any delayed paperwork.

iAfrica reports the spokesperson for outgoing National Director of Public Prosecutions Bulelani Ngcuka, expressing the director's satisfaction "...that advocate Batohi had acted with integrity and that none of her actions amount to contempt and disregard for the law." The law is, as they say, an ass and nobody knows that better than Bulelani.

But how does this help Edwin Hunsaker? It's midwinter and Cape Town is cold and wet. The errant octoganarian—who hasn't seen his wife of 59 years since his arrest—continues, with thousands of others, to watch the last days of his life slip behind him from within the belly of a beast one can liken only to a latter-day incarnation of Devil's Island. Independent Online reports "...Hunsaker's lawyer, Frank Raymond, who was contracted by the US consulate in Cape Town, has written to the Directorate of Public Prosecutions, President Thabo Mbeki, Human Rights Commission and Amnesty International about his plight. He asked the Director of Public Prosecutions to stay all proceedings against Hunsaker immediately."

So far, only the Human Rights Commission has responded to Raymond's letter. I'm banking on the Director of Public Prosecutions coming through for Hunsaker. Due to leave office shortly, Bulelani Ngcuka's in a forgiving mood.

As a child still in grief from his mother's loss, Mogamat would cut up the clothes of the women his father brought back to the house. ... His father would punish him by making him wear a crude dress, or skirt, made of a grain sack. ... One day the nine year old followed his father's lover from a fairground, lay in wait for her and then murdered her with an axe. "All that stuff I kept inside of me, all those years" he said. "Nobody must never know what is inside of me. I must be tough." more...

Oh, some of us'll end up | In St. Cloud Prison, | And some of us'll wind up | To be lawyers and things, | And some of us'll stand up | To meet you on your crossroads, | From inside the walls, | The walls of Red Wing.

Bob Dylan | Walls of Red Wing

Note Download transcripts of the remarkable 2001 BBC two-part documentary, Killers Don't Cry and Killers Come Home. The rehabilitation of Mogamat Benjamin, Erefaan Jacobs and others was undertaken by Joanna Thomas of Cape Town's Centre for Conflict Resolution.



:: Mike Golby 12:19 AM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Friday, August 06, 2004 ::

Revisiting Coke and Pepsi...

Coke Classic… [Graphic: Werner Horvath]

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."

George W. Bush August 5, 2004

Coke or Pepsi? Pepsi or Coke? No matter which way you look at it, the result is cola. In a cause-and-effect world where everything reduces to choice, it's sometimes difficult to accept the simplicity of the law of parsimony. Ostensibly, November's prohibitively expensive United States presidential election pits two candidates representing different parties and their policies. Most voters have already plumped for one or the other.

I used to enjoy asking my kids, "Can God create a rock so heavy he cannot lift it?" Their mental tussles were entertaining but futile. They felt better when I explained to them that some questions are dumb and best ignored. And so it is with the U.S. presidential election. As is usual in a third-rate, tin-pot dictatorship and failed banana republic, the choice is not between two candidates. It is not even between brands of cola. One brand, dressed in the increasingly gaudy livery of the U.S. flag, has a monopoly. Voters are therefore being asked to choose their flavour, i.e. Classic or Vanilla.

One can either buy the brand on offer, thereby endorsing the product, or one can speak out against its manufacturers and risk being squashed like a bug in a bottling plant. But what of those choosing not to drink cola? The "Any Flavor but Coke" brigade look a bit dumb to them. What of those who feel cola harmful to their and others' health? All partakers are suspect in their eyes and they, in turn, are seen as spoilers or worse, anti-social. Social and peer pressure can lead to undue influence being exerted, intimidation breaking out and—possibly—incidents of an indecent, ugly or even violent nature taking place.

It is as the marketing people tell you. The choice is simple and it's yours. What they don't tell you is that its consequences may not be easy to stomach. That is, as the cola manufacturers will tell you, the taste of life.

"We will double our special forces to conduct terrorist operations."

John F. Kerry July 29, 2004


:: Mike Golby 8:52 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Thursday, August 05, 2004 ::

Darfurian Delicacies

Medecins Sans Frontieres: Essential Services [Pic: Peter Casaer]

More populous than Iraq and infinitely more dangerous than Somalia, Sudan poses complex problems for a slack-arse Western media. Earlier this week, the Bashir regime mustered upwards of 100,000 protesters to voice opposition to Western governments deploying troops in blood-soaked Darfur. The African Union (AU) is prepared to commit 2,000 soldiers to protecting peacekeepers and aid workers in the region. Dispensing with pretences of impartiality, most English-language stories slipped "stage managed" into their reports of the demonstration. Stage managed? I don't think so.

Sudan, a Muslim country fast crumbling after decades of civil war, is now becoming a "story". That's bad news—not only for Lt-Gen. Omar Hassan Ahmed al-Bashir's ruling cabal, but for the peoples of Darfur. Most Western perceptions of Sudan will be based on supposition, prejudice and the agendas of those who've had their eyes on Sudanese oil resources for the past century or two.

Today, as most U.K. and U.S. citizens slide into an acceptance of their false "lack of security", they're prone to accepting simplistic and glib tales of the genocide sweeping Africa's largest country. Nothing could be further from the truth. Darfur is undoubtedly a hell hole in dire need of emergency aid and foreign initiative, but it is not Sudan—a country riven by decades of civil war. A quarter the size of the United States, Sudan is poor but proud. Resources are heavily centralised. The West Darfur state—one of some twenty-five—is home to 5.5 million people boasting 397 primary and 23 secondary schools. This compares to a tenth the number of people enjoying three times as many primary and twenty times as many secondary schools in Khartoum.

As poor as it is, Sudan has seen off its share of colonial invaders. It's a stone's throw from Saudi Arabia—across the Red Sea—and is bordered by no less than nine countries, many of which are dealing with cross-border or internal conflict. If the U.S. and Britain were to launch a pre-emptive military strikes targeting Khartoum, it would constitute the costliest and most irresponsible extension of George W. Bush's global land grab to date. Although it's not on the cards right now, such a foolhardy undertaking cannot be ruled out. It cannot be allowed to go ahead and should be resisted by every right-thinking person.

At the moment, Sudan may present as a possible shot at redemption through intervention. Appearances, however, have a recent history of being deceptive. In an earlier post, I pointed to several sites chronicling and documenting the ongoing carnage and suffering in Darfur. Many belonged to aid agencies. Rather than getting sucked into debating the wisdom of yet another great American military misadventure, most would do well to give what they can to aid organisations as they inform themselves of the complex issues wracking Sudan.

Yes, Bashir's governing council has its agenda and interests at heart. But one could do worse than scouring Sudan.net, ingesting the myriad essays of The European Sudanese Public Affairs Council, and following English-language links from the Sudanese government's site. And do read criticism of an A.A. Gill London Sunday Times story. It seems Western media are able to open themselves to scorn and derision without effort.

Nor can anyone looking for a halfway sane bearing on African political processes and a healthy approach to the way we generally do things around here go wrong reading Somali author Nuruddin Farah's 1993 Guardian interview, as well as a New York Times Op-Ed written by the same author. Joe Duemer, reading and reviewing Farah's latest novel, Links, does us a favour bringing Farah's work to our attention.



:: Mike Golby 8:01 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Wednesday, August 04, 2004 ::

Live Fast...

Changing Lanes [Photography: Tristan Paviot]

I took you home from a party and we kissed in fun | A few stolen kisses and no harm was done | Instead of stopping when we could we went right on | Till suddenly we found that the brakes were gone.

...die young and leave a good-looking corpse, eh? Generally, there is little we South Africans can do to ensure an early demise that results in an attractive cadaver. Ask our former National Director of Public Prosecutions, Bulelani Ngcuka. Yet, Bulelani's departure from public life will do little to deter the many now living in South Africa's cultural and economic fast lane. I must say, their alacrity disturbs me. As a road user who tends to dawdle, I stand to become their road kill.

I picked up a driver's licence at the traffic department earlier this week and, while there, bought a licence-holder—a pale shade of police-sunglass blue. It cost only R5,00 but I felt the widows and orphans of the thousands of cops killed each month while sleeping in their vehicles at the side of the road deserve the money. My concern is that they'll never see it. Schoolkids raise funds for their schools by selling the same cheap licence holders to their cash-strapped, fee-paying parents. I suspect the good folk at the traffic department are merely supplementing their income in much the same way our schools supplement theirs. Controlling traffic flow in all directions is a tough and demanding job. We cannot therefore condemn these privateers as they would us.

KwaZulu-Natal's attractive (if you go for the Condee Rice look) head of Public Prosecutions, Shamila Batohi [pdf], is a case in point. It seems KwaZulu-Natal's top cop has "...accumulated 19 traffic tickets since 1999, of which only one has been paid. Summonses to appear in court for 11 others have been issued and subsequently ignored. The arrest warrant for not appearing in court for driving an unlicensed vehicle was cancelled after a prosecutor withdrew the charge against her."

Independent Online reports: "Thirteen fines were for exceeding the speed limit and the others include driving through a red robot, leaving a vehicle unattended, driving an unlicensed vehicle and making an unauthorised u-turn." Indeed. Shamila Batohi exemplifies life in the fast lane. Yet, who are we to expect that the woman who exposed Hansie Cronje as a lowlife liar, cheap crook and conniving fraud should answer to the same court as he?

"Earlier this year, Batohi was grilled by the media after it emerged that a speeding fine against her had been withdrawn in similar circumstances. This was after she had been caught allegedly travelling at 115km/h in a 80km/h zone in Mtubatuba, on the KwaZulu-Natal North Coast, last November. At the time, National Director of Public Prosecutions Bulelani Ngcuka laughed off the matter."

The National Director of Public Prosecutions, who saw fit to accuse Deputy President Jacob Zuma of fraud, is a wise man. In KwaZulu-Natal, Batohi represents the ends of justice. Who is Ngcuka, Batohi's boss, to see such ends defeated?

I didn't want to want you, but now I have no choice | It's too late to listen to that warning voice | All I hear is thunder of two hearts beat | Going ninety miles an hour down a dead end street | Ninety miles an hour down a dead end street.

On my return to the office, I passed a pole (alas, and though I checked, it was not Brother Marek) running two newspaper billboards. One read Road Rage Clash Kills 3 and the other Blind Man Caught Doing 150kmh. Okay, the blind speedster was Spanish and the three killed in the road-rage gun battle were Jo’burgers. Still, South Africa's roads are not for the faint hearted. Independent Online tells us of a person killed Sunday on Johannesburg's M1 South.

When police were called to a hit-and-run accident on the M1 South, they found no body, only pieces of flesh splattered across the highway. The remains of the victim were in bits and pieces, torn apart, and almost shredded—and the only clues that this had once been a human being were a mangled skull and some bones. ... "We think a driver of one of the vehicles that rode over the body may have felt guilty and called our radio room. My officers were there at 2.30am. They struggled to identify the body. It was in pieces. Only from the bones and skull could we tell it had been a human being," [Inspector Edna Mamonyane, spokesperson for the Johannesburg metro police department (JMPD)] said. She said there was no indication if the person had been killed or just injured by the first car, or if he or she died as a result of subsequent injuries. ... "We cannot tell how many cars hit the pedestrian. But from the shape of the body and from all the blood that was splattered across the highway, we can assume it was not just two or three cars that drove over it..."

Well, why not? A good job is one worth doing properly and we South Africans do not shirk our duty. And yet... although I've known many who have lived their lives in the fast lane and accept that it is the South African way, I believe it to be a lifestyle less appealing than it is made out to be. Those who've disengaged their cruise-control facilities are not the type of people with whom one would wish to associate—especially if one plans on growing old. High-speed hit-and-run victims make for unattractive corpses, and I am loath to become one.

To ask whether Bulelani jumped or was pushed is to miss the point. Like the person driven into the scarlet tarmac of the M1 South this past Sunday—and many others who find themselves mixing with the movers and shakers (be they clerks in the traffic department or the Deputy President), he merely paid the price. Any country in which the law is desecrated by those sworn to uphold it or others are obliterated by official and social indifference to it, deserves to implode. I give this country ten years. Others, less.

Warning signs are flashing ev'ry where, but we pay no heed | 'Stead of slowing down the place, we keep a pickin' up speed | Disaster's getting closer ev'ry time we meet | Going ninety miles an hour down a dead end street.

Bob Dylan | Ninety Miles an Hour


:: Mike Golby 7:52 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Friday, July 30, 2004 ::

Belles of the Ball...

...or balls at the bell?

While we live according to race, colour or creed | While we rule by blind madness and pure greed | Our lives dictated by tradition, superstition, false religion | Through the eons, and on and on...

In the light of my last post and the merciful fading to memory of the Democratic National Convention, a couple of updates. Any notion that David Weinberger would forsake his blog for a week in favour of a newspaper was sorely misguided. I wrote that late at night or early in the morning. Neuronal activity was slow at the time and my nerves were shot. Well, they must've been, eh? David's blogging of the DNC and his links to others have given this foreigner a comprehensive overview of (or grandstand seat at) a time-honoured American tradition. That said, I think attendees and time will be the only entities likely to honour the DNC in Boston.

As forgetful as the event turned out to be, bloggers mentioned in my post below and countless others made what was otherwise a quiet week on the blogs worth following—and, of all the essays, Jessamyn West's essay on Day 2 stood out. Having read countless reports of the event, I feel the DNC has more in common with a Billy Graham revivalist meeting (replete with pamphlets and placards for the faithful, cued applause, tacky advertising and pre-packaged, mass-consumption messages designed to massage the minds of the numbskull masses) than it has with meaningful political change.

Why not send 15,000 reporters to Afghanistan and Iraq?

Bloggers covered the event well but, beyond the usual suspects, failed to criticise it in great depth. Tom Engelhart, backed by a good post from Frank (yes, with others), represents the exception to numb acceptance. He offers a fine piece dissecting the hysteria and stupefaction attending this inordinately costly exercise designed to anaesthetize the minds of those still in possession of one. Credentialed blogger participation should be reviewed. While paid reporters spent their time nervously denigrating the bloggers and the bloggers spent theirs highlighting reporters' shortcomings, media owners probably sifted through reports in search of pixel-maddened hotshots. They couldn't give a shit where they find them. They want vanilla copy with grab and they'll pay for it. If they can replace paid reporters with underpaid bloggers in dire need of real jobs, they will. And they'll then mess with the newcomers' heads before beating them into a shape acceptable to those footing the bill for their drug habits.

Private participation in such events counts for nothing but the perpetuation of the status quo. In one of her thoughtful barbs to the base on the American Street, Shelley raises the question of gender equity in political representation. Somehow, commenters confused gender with colour. You tell me why—I think people have a hang-up with "multi-culturalism". Theirs is of a particularist nature built on the detritus of "separate but equal" (see Lenny Bruce circa 1962). Anyway, they confused women for the Kenyan delegate who is, when all's said and done, a damned fine orator. But he ain't no "woman".

By the way, what's the big deal with Obama's 'blackness'? Well, the white boys need a token nigger to whitewash their latent racism. But, whether they make him president or not, he should remember where he comes from and, next time he heads for Boston, pack a pair of running shoes. The Marathon's coming up and he can mix it with his homeys while winning one for the Gipper Zipper asshole put into power. For now, though, he can enjoy his twenty minutes of fame. He has, after all, served the white man a damned side better than the formerly favoured Bush rent boy and traitor, Al Sharpton.

But, much as the air around Barack Obama is suffused with a paternalistic racism, I digress. Shelley's post highlighted for me just how vacuous U.S. politics has become. How do women get representation in business and the Beltway? Here in South Africa, it was easy. In the early 1990s, when the ANC was hammering out detailed policies supplanting those of the National Party, its members demanded that, from the outset, 30 percent of all parliamentarians should be women. The party leadership, which came from the people, knew it would be fatal to mess with the intent of around 10 million South African women voters and buckled like schoolgirls at a Ministry concert.

Female "representativity" in parliament under the National Party government was non-existent and the apartheid state took some pride in its global gender equity ranking of 141. In April 1994, the jackbooted fascists were thrown out and, implementing an initial quota of 30 percent, the ANC leapfrogged South Africa to #9 (we've subsequently slipped to #12 with Rwanda in top spot). The U.S. languishes at #58. Gender equity in parliament is no longer an issue here, bar the need for the Commission for Gender Equality to keep pushing for 50 percent representation. South Africans do not care whether politicians are black, white, brown, male, female, straight or gay. They are all twisted and that's all that matters. In conducting affairs of state, they are not to be trusted and must be watched at all times.

Unable to hide behind facile arguments around gender issues, South African politicians and voters tend to focus on issues relevant to the person in the street. In the United States, women are, to put it bluntly, screwed. The voice of the voter counts for nothing in a country where power-crazed politicians are put into place by a complex comprising military, pharmaceutical, business, academic, energy, financial and other interest groups. Until American men and women reclaim the political process, gender equity will remain what, in the political trade, is politely termed "a low-priority issue".

Today, white American males are a fast-shrinking minority in a country they believe, through conquest, is theirs. In twenty years' time, they will know it's not as they reap the whirlwind of their shortsighted policies and insatiable, self-serving greed. Those policies, hidden in obscene budget deficits and fast-rising Medicare costs, will serve to bind a new and brutal majority born of harsh necessity. I give the masses four more terms of reptilian rule before they rise up and bring Bubba low on Pennsylvania Avenue, there to confess his heinous crimes before being mercilessly beaten and driven out of town like a broken-backed whore.

Why the hell not? Anything would be better than a week choked by sleazy choirboys jerking off on a global stage.

Oh yes we'll keep on tryin' | We'll tread that fine line | Oh oh we'll keep on tryin' | Till the end of time | Till the end of time

Freddie Mercury | Innuendo



:: Mike Golby 11:46 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Wednesday, July 28, 2004 ::

Conventional Wisdom

The Triumph of John and Teresa...

C'mon take me to the Mardi Gras | Where the people sing and play | Where the dancing is elite | And there's music in the street | Both night and day

Paul Simon | Take me to the Mardi Gras

"Objectivity is a worthwhile objective, but it needs to be recognized that it can't be reached."

David Weinberger

One of Shelley's first posts on The American Street, pointing to the Democratic National Convention (DNC), elicited a somewhat unfairly sceptical retort from yours truly. At the beginning of the week, it seemed to this non-American that the DNC and RNC serve as scripted devices whipping up an hysteria that sucks sane minds into a vain, costly and manufactured consensus underwriting a corrupt system. No matter public support for it, it remains flawed.

Why then, I asked myself, bludgeon these normally sane people into participation? The answer seemed simple enough. Because nothing binds like complicity; and the more twisted the system, the more closely participants are tied to the consequences of their participation. The end result is a quelling of dissent and the system's perpetuation.

First impressions from Jay Rosen (and, as I later discovered, many U.S. bloggers) showed the DNC to be a scripted and costly charade. In his first post from Boston, Rosen interrogated its "made-for-TV" wisdom in an attempt to discern good reason for its ritual nature. His conclusion, that conventions serve as connections "backward in political time", giving the GOP and the Dems "a storied past", is meaty. He feels this connection with the past to be vital "with the transformations of politics in the media age" and concludes that, without it, the parties and political journalism "...would seem even thinner and less substantial."

Okay, but that's only half the story. Given "the transformations of politics in the media age", I'd ask Jay whether the ritual does more than lend a veneer of credibility to the proceedings. Does this connection to a manufactured history validate participation in a process dominated by thin and insubstantial parties covered by watered-down political journalism?

Jay readily answers the question. "But this is mostly a property of their form; the old contents have been drained. New contents to fit the age have not been found." It seems Rosen carried these views to Boston with him. His interest lay not in connections to the past but in pointers to the future. Credentialled bloggers, of which he is one, promised such forward direction. As an outside observer, I'd say they've delivered.

Day-to-day reportage could not be better than that offered by Dave Pell's Electablog. Dave's been blogging every aspect of the conference and provides links to key speeches (bar Obama Barack). He makes for easy, uninterrupted reading and gives outsiders an insider's view of the U.S. political machine at work. When a reporter (Dave's training) likens Bill Clinton to a rock star, you know that—for good or ill—you're getting it like it is.

I've not had the time to track down the bloggers I know to be covering the convention. David Weinberger (who admits political speeches can reduce him to tears) is blogging for some Boston paper, so that's one blogger sucked out of circulation for a while. David, however, is a dab hand at being everywhere at once and knows what to feed back into the blogging soup. The nugget prefacing this post comes from an interview with USA Today blogged by Jeneane. A result of the breakfast (blogged by Jay) wherein AP's Walter Mears unwittingly—and unnervingly—boasted the press's irrelevance, it forms a neat answer to allegations of 'subjectivity' that might be directed at credentialled bloggers by an increasingly nervous press corps.

The upshot? The results of the DNC are much as I expected. The lie underpinning the show remains, the system rules, and bloggers do it better (although only the hardened old pros, e.g. Rosen, Weinberger, et al tend to ask the hard questions). But these are the subjective opinions of a hardened cynic. For different perspectives, check out the usual suspects (no pointers needed). Lastly, bundle the stuff with which you've filled your head and, for all the right reasons, take it for analysis to Jeneane, who goes on to point to this stunning photo essay.

So far meandering through the blogs covering the DNC I see lots of middle-age white guys writing about how a lot of other middle-age white guys are hard to hear. Boys, boys, boys. We pack you up, we send you off to tend to the Important Duties of the Nation, and this is what we get? I want a refund.

Why's this girl rotting in Atlanta when she's needed to shake things up in Boston? She and Shelley both.

Take your burdens to the Mardi Gras | Let the music wash your soul | You can mingle in the street | You can jingle to the beat of the jelly roll | Tumba, tumba, tumba, Mardi Gras | Tumba, tumba, tumba, day | Mm...

Paul Simon | Take me to the Mardi Gras



:: Mike Golby 8:24 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Sunday, July 25, 2004 ::

Aged American Held Four Years Without Trial

Jailbird [Pic: Johann van Tonder]

Hunsaker is just one of thousands of prisoners packed into Pollsmoor Prison - a heaving cesspit of about 8 000 prisoners or three times the normal capacity - where rape and sexual abuse are rampant, conditions are unhygienic, which is understaffed and where corruption is rife and the notorious "numbers gangs", the 26s, 27s and 28s, operate with impunity. more...

This report should warm the cockles of George W. Bush's heart. While he oversees the development of a global gulag, Cape Town's notorious Pollsmoor Prison has been hosting 82-year old Salt Lake City resident Edwin Hunsaker for four-and-a-half years. And he's yet to get to trial. Independent Online gives the full story.

Thousands of South African men, women and children have been lost inside Cape Town's Abu Ghraib, where gangsters offer services similar to those of private contractors in Iraq (including beheading—by pocket knife). But that's our problem and, like many others crippling South Africa, a solution looks a long way off. For now, volunteers do their best to alleviate the plight of those incarcerated by an unfeeling, indifferent and corrupt officialdom.

But surely, in Hunsaker's case, the U.S. embassy could do more to get this obviously unbalanced octogenarian a lawyer able to take his case through the courts? Or doesn't it matter?

Things to do in Cape Town When You're Dead

I've been bemoaning local problems of late (YBLOG ZA?), but Cape Town leaves me little choice:

Girls as young as 13 and 14 from the relatively upmarket Fish Hoek valley are going into neighbouring townships to prostitute themselves for drugs, often still dressed in their school uniforms. There are reports of the young teens having sex with multiple partners to get their hands on their drugs of choice, making themselves vulnerable to HIV infection and other sexually transmitted diseases. And it's not limited to girls. Young boys are also selling sex for drugs.
more...

Given the dearth of rehabilitation facilities (a national tragedy and disgrace), the lifestyles these kids' parents live, and the money to be made off their addictions, I see little chance of Switzerland's Koda prescription programme being replicated here any time soon. These kids will either die or sell their bodies and souls for no return inside Pollsmoor.


:: Mike Golby 9:58 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

:: Saturday, July 24, 2004 ::

Representing Berlin

The Other Side

In Representing Berlin (in the Context of Toronto), Doug Ord forsakes graphics for prose, draws his readers into the subtext of his subjects' work and delivers compelling evidence of global undercurrents we'd rather ignore. Criticising Within and Beyond the Wall: Berlin Photographs 1957-2003, a costly, complementary exhibition of photography at Toronto's Harbourfront Centre, Ord immerses himself in the work of nine photographers from former East and West Berlin and emerges with a 15,000-word essay highlighting the many layers and stresses of social forces shaping Berlin, Toronto and just about any other city you'd care to mention.

As South Africa totters through the honeymoon of its liberation toward the bright lights of a shambolic future, it would do well to heed the continuity and irony of history and beware our many pasts' ability to blur distinction, paralyse thought and expression, lull us into ignoring the tone of the times, and seduce us with the mystique and forgetfulness of any type of oppression ("The longer the Wall stood the more it fell into oblivion..."). Ord reminds us that the variegated layers of our episodic histories remain forever with us, and vain attempts to circumvent their myriad consequences ultimately destroy us.

Nor can we, as South Africans, view our country as the only crucible in which new histories are forged. The city of Berlin is a human work in progress, an experiment in grappling with possible futures illuminated by its artists drawing conclusions on memories beyond the Berlin Wall. In as much as the Wall and its fall signified 'the end of the Cold War', it pointed to a broader dynamic, a change in 'the way we do things around here'. Today, as West continues to face East and free to face the consequences of histories from which they cannot escape, Germans find it necessary to adapt to the strictures imposed by globalisation, a barrier more pressing than any cast in stone.

Across the ocean, as if transmitted virally but substantially by immigrants such as Mies van der Rohe, Germany's forgotten past surfaces in corporate and social boardrooms where avaricious champions of outdated ideas espouse discredited strategies drawn from states of engineered forgetfulness to implement Final Solutions [pdf]. Berlin has seen this deadly dance of deceit before. And as the United States and Canada slouch in retreat to morbid practices redolent of Nazism's rise, the work of artists becomes more valuable as it becomes more vulnerable.

That Within and Beyond the Wall: Berlin Photographs 1957-2003 attracted little attention from Canada's mainstream media is of little importance. That it remains uncovered elsewhere is irrelevant too. The media are changing, and it's through essays such as Ord's that one discovers the value of others' work. By interpreting, dissecting, collating and articulating that which the photographers assemble (I found the analyses of works by Christian von Steffelin and Kai-Olaf Hesse especially helpful), Ord does justice to their art and gives us qualified insight into their vision. Ord's is a necessary, educative task. His is an original, authentic voice criticised largely because it rings true among those entangled in history's small events [pdf].

Lengthy, but carrying Doug Ord's trademark—a precise, measured tone driving relentlessly to carefully considered conclusions, Representing Berlin is a synthesis of disturbing ideas defying further distillation.

And yes, the photographs are pretty good too...



:: Mike Golby 9:44 PM [+] :: :: ::
...

	Web YBLOG ZA