This is an open letter to Dr Ben Ngubane, Minister of Arts, Culture, Science and Technology, by Mike van Graan, carried on the artslink website
Dear Minister Ben Ngubane, It must be quite difficult being the minister responsible for arts and culture right now. The Playhouse, which you’ve promoted as the epitome of transformation, has revealed itself as a hotbed of racism. The most important official responsible for arts and culture nationally has been axed from his deputy director general position because of alleged corruption. Individuals whom you trust with senior positions in the arts are shown up as shameless pigs feeding at the taxpayer trough. And some of those involved are your homeboys, which must make it a bit tricky to resist party political pressures to have them promoted.
The country’s largest theatre the State Theatre is half-shut (or is it slightly open?). The world-famous Market Theatre has retrenched half its staff, and this despite a large subsidy from your department. Now even some of your staff members are in rebellion, dispatching letters of discontent to the president, the public protector and your party leader.
Many cultural practitioners also find themselves in difficult positions at the moment. Will they get funding for their next project? Should they retrain and seek employment in another industry? Should they emigrate? Should they boycott invitations to appear at government-sponsored events locally or internationally? How much longer will they need to be waitrons?
In your response to the allegations of racism by some of your staff (I’m sure it’s just a case of sour grapes) towards the Director General, Dr Rob Adam, you indicate that since Dr Adam’s appointment in 1999 more than 50 people have been appointed in your department (of which only four were white). Please forgive my tongue which has momentarily escaped into my cheek, but it seems that the Cultural Industries Growth Strategy is being implemented admirably within your department. Unfortunately, during the same period, we have lost an orchestra or two, a few dance companies have closed, our national gallery has been unable to purchase art work, and the odd musician has died a pauper.
You may wonder why some blasphemous cultural workers think that they had it better under apartheid. They struggled to make a living. Opportunities were limited. Some faced harassment from the state’s security apparatus. Then, they didn’t expect things to be good. They accepted that under apartheid their lot would be a pessimistic one. They expected to be poor, ignored, mere utilities in a broader cause. But then they also had a vision, a hope that in their promised land their government would listen to them. Then there was something to look forward to. The milk of freedom. The honey of support. Now they’ve been to the promised land, and the milk is sour. And they have been stung by a few bees keeping the honey for themselves.
Then they knew who their enemy was. Now the enemy is of them. Then there was the hope of freedom. Now there is a climate of fear. Then there was unity of purpose, strength in numbers. Now they’re divided among ourselves. Prostituting themselves in whichever direction from which (they think) the shekels might fall.
The sense of crisis in the arts currently is directly proportionate to the low level of respect for the Department of Arts, Culture, Science and Technology. And yet things weren’t always like this. I remember the Arts and Culture Task Group (Actag) era with fondness. Artists taking responsibility for their future. The euphoria of having a minister who solicited their opinions. The desire to work with the government to achieve common objectives. The commitment. The humour. The trust.
The road we have travelled since then is lined with wreaths marking the death of any relationship between the government and the larger arts and culture community. Knocked down by incommunication. Driven over by arrogance. The hit and runs of careless officialdom.
Believe it or not there are those of us who still want you to succeed. Who believe that it is in our interests that you succeed. Of course, there are those who given the current mess in arts and culture would call for your immediate resignation. They probably believe that they have a valid case. But that is to assume that a replacement will do any better. I know that there are very well qualified, incredibly competent, visionary people within the government, but it is not likely that they will be appointed to a position which, in the African renaissance project, should have high priority, but which in the broader scheme of things is deemed an irrelevance. A troublesome spot.
Till now, and not least because of your humane personal qualities, you’ve been given the benefit of the doubt. You said that you did not know about the affairs of the State Theatre before its crisis. You said that you did not approve the atrocious Draft Institutional Framework for the Performing Arts. You said that any new policy will be done in consultation with relevant stakeholders.
But now there is a bit of a credibility gap. The National Arts Council (NAC) was selected in a transparent manner. There was an opportunity to interrogate the credentials of its members. To test their commitment. Even to object to their proposed appointment. Yet now there is a body the lottery distribution agency which will probably dispense more money than the NAC to the arts, yet to which members have been appointed, almost in secrecy. The arts and culture community still do not know who the individuals are who have been appointed to look after their interests within a structure which will be the single most important source of new funding for the arts.
Now, Mr Minister, you cannot say that you didn’t know. That you don’t know. About those whom you appoint and who allegedly pay themselves retainers of R4 000 to serve on non-profit boards. About those who act on the Playhouse Board out of racist beliefs. About the questionable allocation of funds by some within the NAC.
Within every crisis, there is generally an opportunity for redemption. Such redemption requires leadership. Vision. This, Minister, is as good an opportunity as you ever will have.
Those who wait are not only those privileged under apartheid. They are those who long for things to improve. Who want to believe. Who would like reasons to stay. They are black. White. Even Indian. They are progressive. Liberal. Some have become conservative. Others are self- fulfilling prophecies waiting to happen.
Give us a sign. Give us reasons to believe. Give us a ray of hope.
We are looking for signals. A signal that you really care. That you are not in denial. That you recognise the challenges, and that you will take action. A signal that you are anti-corruption. That you will not tolerate racism. A signal that you will not simply retreat into a defensive laager, but that you will seek to restore the transparent relationship of the Actag days. A signal that you do not bestow positions as party-political favours. That you do not fund companies and institutions on the basis of personal friendships and contacts, but through (reasonably) objective mechanisms to which all have access. Signals that decisions are not hometown ones. That beneficiaries are not primarily homeboys.
I look forward to a response where actions speak louder than words.
I trust that you will soon have a good night’s rest.
Yours (very) sincerely
Mike van Graan
Artslink.co.za