/ 1 October 2004

Pallo’s power

Jordan admits to problems in Arts Council,” ran the headline in a Cape Town newspaper, reporting on the minister’s recent circuit of imbizos with Gauteng artists. The knight in shining armour who had been appointed to rescue the arts damsel in distress, then held forth to be quoted thus: “[The National Arts Council] might not be functioning as expected, because it is currently wrestling with issues of transformation.” Huh? And with that, the knight fell off his horse with an embarrassing thud, while his horse spewed forth more transformation propaganda from behind its tail.

The newspaper article went on to say that Minister of Arts and Culture Pallo Jordan reminded artists that they were the ones who created the council. Like artists need reminding. It is precisely because they had lobbied so vigorously for an effective, arm’s length and artist-governed body that would promote and defend democratic freedoms, that artists have urged, begged and pleaded with the minister — and his predecessor and department — to intervene in the crisis at the National Arts Council (NAC) that has adversely affected the sector. But to no avail.

In a September Sunday Times article that reported on the nebulous outcomes of the disciplinary hearing against three senior NAC officials, the minister claimed that he had not yet been approached to intervene, and that he had “no problem about stepping in when it is necessary”.

Yet, soon after his appointment in May, the Network for Arts and Culture South Africa (Nacsa) called on the minister to appoint “an independent investigation into the NAC to ascertain the causes of the poor governance, management and administration of the NAC …” to which the minister responded the next day with a media release stating that he needs “some time to consult with, among others, the board of the NAC to find a way of addressing the issues” raised by Nacsa.

Since then there has been nothing from the minister. Two more board members resigned three months later, without the minister ever having consulted them. Yet, the minister has now pronounced that the problems at the NAC have to do with “issues of transformation”, which is probably what the senior management at the department and the NAC’s exco members with whom he has no doubt “consulted”, would like him — and us — to believe.

Some of these champions of transformation on the executive committee of the NAC attended the National Arts Festival in July and were given funds for “expenses” before leaving for the festival. According to the NAC’s financial statements, the deputy chairperson, Mark Gordon got R15 000, Japan Mthembu received R25 000 and Nhlanhla Mtaka, R27 500.

To put these “expenses” into perspective, Maishe Maponya, a respected playwright, had to cancel his two shows as the NAC only provided him with a grant of R20 000 — two weeks before the festival was due to start — which was insufficient to cover the show’s costs.

Staff at the NAC have provided evidence of alleged financial irregularities and mismanagement by exco members to their union, which in turn has communicated these allegations to the minister and the director general. But again, nothing has been done. On the contrary, Mthembu, who now allegedly works from within the NAC offices, was the “programme director” at one of the minister’s imbizos.

“If you are not happy with the people serving on the council, you can use your power to remove them,” said the minister at the imbizo. Perhaps the minister needs to be reminded that the power to appoint, to remove, to suspend, to do something at the NAC, resides with him. That is what the law says. It is extremely cynical to imply that if artists are unhappy, then they are to blame for not using their power to remove those who are the cause of their unhappiness.

In the past five months we’ve seen more of what we had hoped would change. Individuals with dubious track records appointed to govern public institutions. Correspondence being ignored. Cancellations of confirmed public attendances. Denialism. Inaction. The perception of cover-ups. It is business as usual, folks. Except, there’s a knight in tarnished armour. Coming soon — maybe — to an imbizo near you.