My transition from covering the arts to covering politics and business initially seemed daunting, but within months I discovered the heartening similarities and eye-opening contrasts that would make the change refreshing and surprisingly smooth.
First, both artists and politicians are drama queens prone to uttering incomprehensible schlock. A fine distinction, of course, is that artists struggle while politicians eat off the finest dishes at our expense.
I recall interviewing the esoteric choreographer PJ Sabbagha ahead of the opening of his dance piece Dis-location. Over two sessions, he went to great lengths to explain that the piece sought to explore the “space within which the body moves and looks beyond the realm of possibilities of conventional movement,” or some such theory. What Sabbagha meant to say was that since the piece was at its conceptual phase he had, at best, only a vague idea of what it was going to be and would make up other bits as he went along.
Both artists and politicians are drama queens prone to uttering incomprehensible schlock.
Switch across to politics, where everything happens “in the context of a broader framework,” and you quickly learn what is bureaucratic speak for “we actually have not started on that project we announced a year ago.” Politics is cluttered with morbid howls and pugnacious rants.
The former, usually thoughtful but harmless, comes from people like Deputy President Jacob Zuma when he requests us “to change ourselves to become agents of change,” or from Tony Leon downplaying the hemorrhage of councilors to the Sofasonke Party during the recent floor crossing window period.
The rants, usually thoughtless but harmful, comes from member of the African National Congress National Executive Committee Dumisane Makhaye every time he opens his mouth. No other politician has his ability to blatantly ingratiate himself with the establishment, and do so with smugness and without shame.
Also, government tends to recruit former journalists because of the belief that they understand the media. While this may be true, it is only true for a while. Ahead of this year’s sate-of-the-nation address, I had the opportunity to speak to Lakela Kaunda, a former editor and now spokesperson for Zuma. I wanted to know about the outcomes, if any, of a racism conference organised by her office with the Human Rights Commission in Sandton in 2000. “Oh no, our input from there fed into the [World Conference Against Racism]”. Okay. Now what about the Rural Development and Urban Renewal Programmes meant to revive strategic areas in the country? “Oh well, the Deputy Presidency just initiates and passes things on to the line functionaries.” Aah, that would be the utterly useless Department of Local and Provincial Government. Having spent two days running around to find out basic facts like how much has been spent on the programmes, the department’s communication machinery came back and told me they cannot preempt the president in his year opener. There was nothing in the address.
Finally, the most remarkable part of the transition has been working with public relations professionals. In the arts, I encountered black PR execs who evoked a desire to flirt and ranged in competence from the ultra efficient to the bumbling black blond. In the corporate sector, you encounter mostly white women who evoke a desire to hide from the perfume and make-up and range in competence form the ultra efficient to the blond. Either way though, they diligently aim to make our lives easier or more difficult, depending on the state of relations at the time. Sadly, that applies to arts, politics and business.
Dave Bullard has more than a few functions this time of yearhe’ll be back with the Offline column in February. Also back in February is Mabanga, who’ll kick off with the first piece in his own column Cult of Personality.