Democracy. Say it out aloud, spell it out: D-E-M-O-C-R-A-C-Y. I thought I knew what it meant. I've even had to dig out actual dictionaries (you remember, the one's that look like books, which involved the deaths of trees and so forth) to ensure my understanding of this word, this concept hasn't gone astray. The Oxford dictionary defines it as: 'Government by the people; a form of government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised directly by them or by their elected agents under a free electoral system.' Got it! So When President Jacob Zuma bemoans how all us seem to want to have a hand at running the country,you know, like a democracy should, traditional definitions of the concept become blurry... more so to him than us. If I had R5 for every time I heard Zuma mangle this word and its meaning in his many bumbling, awkward speeches I wouldn't have to keep writing columns on how Zuma has mangled and abused the concept. Indeed the word has been battered to such an extent, perhaps the traditional definition of democracy doesn't stand anymore. Maybe a new edition of what I've always regarded as a trustworthy dictionary, the Oxford, is due. A new Zuma-esque dictionary where words like freedom, rights and choice can be spruced up and given entire new meanings. In the case of the word 'freedom ' Zuma could even suggest a new word - free-ish: A feeling where one wrongly believes they are free to think what they want. The word 'rights' could be Zuma-fied to mean: A just claim or title, whether legal, prescriptive, or moral for only a select few who obey blindly.
Indulge me for a second or 20 as I take a stab at propitiating the president with my own stab at the art of bending semantics. Democracy: Government by an elite grouping of society, usually closely affiliated with the government of the time; a form of government in which the power is made out to be vested in the people, but can be taken away from the very same people by a government as it pleases; a form of power which should be exercised by the people or by elected agents chosen for them under a disputed and imperfect electoral system. It's wordy, I know, but it seems to roll off the tongue. More importantly it's a definition which Zuma may be more comfortable with. We all want to run the country he moans at a memorial service for soldiers killed in a distant civil war. Shock and horror! To think we should want to be afforded that basic right of speaking out against the state when we feel genuinely aggrieved! God forbid we try to make suggestions on how government can best govern South Africa! Banish the thought of criticising the powers-that-be on how they are burning our tax money!
Government and the ANC have templates for every kind of criticism levelled against them. If it's not lashing the media for urinating of dead soldiers graves, it's labelling ratepayers as criminals for threatening to withhold their rates due to local government mismanagement. If you dare compare how the country at times resembles pariahs like Zimbabwe, you are automatically called neo-colonialist or unpatriotic or something like that.
On at least two occasions in parliament Zuma has contorted and distorted the concept of democracy, mangling it into an elephant man-type shadow of it's real definition. During one such particularly memorable parliamentary debate last year, in true Zuma fashion he bumbled his way through his (mis)understanding of democracy, 'In a democratic situation, it is the majority that prevail. I can't change the
rules because you want to make a particular point. You can't then say, smaller
unions must then be compared to the bigger unions in the same way.' I recall my ears started burning by that stage as slack-jawed I listened as the man who supposedly runs the country told off smaller trade unions saying they don't enjoy the same privileges and rights as their bigger counterparts. This informal lesson in semantics stemmed the bloody union rivalry which fueled the deaths of from 34 striking mineworkers, gunned down by a 'new, democratic' police force (no longer in service) which has come to resemble more of a paramilitary grouping under Mr. Democracy 2013's watch. But fellow citizens, don't even harbour the thought of criticising Zuma on this point, that would be undemocratic, according to him, his party and his administration.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
In Zuma we (mis)Trust
Do you trust Government? I would rephrase the question by asking: Do you trust our Government? But I just can't find it in myself. Government no longer seems like it's 'ours'; it doesn't appear as if this Government is 'For the people, by the people' anymore. To borrow one of the ANC's favourite words when describing and criticising tendencies, actions and beliefs which counter its own: Government seems alien to us, the electorate, the taxpayers, the citizens.
With each month that goes by under President Jacob Zuma's governance, the State drifts further away from us (and reality) and mistrust grows. A government task team's investigation into the Nkandla debacle signals yet another of these moments where the powers-that-be vacillate to the other end of reality, where absurdity thrives under deceit and incompetence. For me personally, it was a watershed moment of sorts where I witnessed Government continue to defend a glaring, shameless display of arrogance on the part of a president who seems comfortable in showing off his power, influence and wealth amid uncomfortable poverty. His blinkered approach to the assembly line of scandals resembles an abuse of power. Cynicism dictated to me that there was simply very little of transparent substance to accept from a government-sanctioned probe into whether our tax rands are being misspent, this time on ensuring Zuma and his familly are as comfortable in their daily lives as possible; all at the expense of an entire country. Some opposition parties have labelled the probe's findings as a 'whitewash'. I choose to call it an attack on our intelligence and trust.
There's a photo I see often of the now infamous Nkandla compound (I'm sorry I simply can't call it a 'residence' without being attacked by nausea). It's a panoramic shot of Zuma's sprawling estate, in all its vainglory. Nestled in the foreground of the photo, virtually in the shadow of the compound, is a mud hut, a woman sitting outside the dwelling doing what seems like washing. The hut can't be more than a few square metres in size, it's decrepit facade stuns me when compared to how the president thinks he is allowed and entitled to live just a few kilometers from the rank-and-file of the country's poor. It speaks the proverbial 'a thousand words'. While Zuma and his family visibly benefit from the spoils of his presidency and influence, the multitude of South African citizens must accept the grim realities that plague the country. For the middle-class, we must shut up (that's the message being sent by Zuma's spin doctors) and deal with it. Accept is all we can do because whinging about Government's shortcomings (especially if you are a White person) is dismissed by the ANC state as unjustified; as for criticising Government, well, we all know what happens if you dare to speak out against the the Zuma administration. However, my acceptance comes with immense amounts of anger and cynicism. I will accept this is how Zuma rules. I accept he probably feels nothing for those who vote him and his party into power. I also accept I have lost complete trust in him and the state.
I'd like to travel to Nkandla and meet the woman in the photo. My question to her would be very simple: Do you (still) trust Msholozi? As I ask the question, my eyes would survey her reality, one characterised by desperate penury. My eyes would then glare through one of her windows at the growing compound where Zuma and his family will languish. For now, I can only guess her answer(s). Perhaps like the millions who share her fate she too is waiting for those election promises to come to fruition. Maybe she's one of those eternal optimists or die-hard 'Nkandlists' who will continue to suffer from a condition I call 'Zanu-PF-isis (a key symptom includes the inability to be able to vote for any other political party other than the one which has consistently lied and cheated it's electorate decade after decade). Like Robert Mugabe, Zuma seems detached from reality. Like Mugabe, Zuma seem oblivious to how compromised and tarnished he has become. Zuma's Nkandla neighbour could, on the other hand, be seething, like many of us are. She could launch into a bilious tirade of how she feels cheated by the president's conspicuous consumption. I can only hope this is her response, if I'm to retain a sembelance of faith in my fellow South African.
When levels of trust sink to dangerous lows, we know what happens. Zamdela happens. At least two service delivery protests a day happen. Credit down gradings happen. Marikana happens.
Many senior government officials have been transformed into nothing more than sycophants who fluff, bluff, pad, skirt, dodge and dive through one Zuma scandal after another, much like kamikaze pilots. Their compliance, their blind loyalty and willingness to be party to the Nkandla saga (and other controversies) only further serves to erode public trust in Government.
With each month that goes by under President Jacob Zuma's governance, the State drifts further away from us (and reality) and mistrust grows. A government task team's investigation into the Nkandla debacle signals yet another of these moments where the powers-that-be vacillate to the other end of reality, where absurdity thrives under deceit and incompetence. For me personally, it was a watershed moment of sorts where I witnessed Government continue to defend a glaring, shameless display of arrogance on the part of a president who seems comfortable in showing off his power, influence and wealth amid uncomfortable poverty. His blinkered approach to the assembly line of scandals resembles an abuse of power. Cynicism dictated to me that there was simply very little of transparent substance to accept from a government-sanctioned probe into whether our tax rands are being misspent, this time on ensuring Zuma and his familly are as comfortable in their daily lives as possible; all at the expense of an entire country. Some opposition parties have labelled the probe's findings as a 'whitewash'. I choose to call it an attack on our intelligence and trust.
There's a photo I see often of the now infamous Nkandla compound (I'm sorry I simply can't call it a 'residence' without being attacked by nausea). It's a panoramic shot of Zuma's sprawling estate, in all its vainglory. Nestled in the foreground of the photo, virtually in the shadow of the compound, is a mud hut, a woman sitting outside the dwelling doing what seems like washing. The hut can't be more than a few square metres in size, it's decrepit facade stuns me when compared to how the president thinks he is allowed and entitled to live just a few kilometers from the rank-and-file of the country's poor. It speaks the proverbial 'a thousand words'. While Zuma and his family visibly benefit from the spoils of his presidency and influence, the multitude of South African citizens must accept the grim realities that plague the country. For the middle-class, we must shut up (that's the message being sent by Zuma's spin doctors) and deal with it. Accept is all we can do because whinging about Government's shortcomings (especially if you are a White person) is dismissed by the ANC state as unjustified; as for criticising Government, well, we all know what happens if you dare to speak out against the the Zuma administration. However, my acceptance comes with immense amounts of anger and cynicism. I will accept this is how Zuma rules. I accept he probably feels nothing for those who vote him and his party into power. I also accept I have lost complete trust in him and the state.
I'd like to travel to Nkandla and meet the woman in the photo. My question to her would be very simple: Do you (still) trust Msholozi? As I ask the question, my eyes would survey her reality, one characterised by desperate penury. My eyes would then glare through one of her windows at the growing compound where Zuma and his family will languish. For now, I can only guess her answer(s). Perhaps like the millions who share her fate she too is waiting for those election promises to come to fruition. Maybe she's one of those eternal optimists or die-hard 'Nkandlists' who will continue to suffer from a condition I call 'Zanu-PF-isis (a key symptom includes the inability to be able to vote for any other political party other than the one which has consistently lied and cheated it's electorate decade after decade). Like Robert Mugabe, Zuma seems detached from reality. Like Mugabe, Zuma seem oblivious to how compromised and tarnished he has become. Zuma's Nkandla neighbour could, on the other hand, be seething, like many of us are. She could launch into a bilious tirade of how she feels cheated by the president's conspicuous consumption. I can only hope this is her response, if I'm to retain a sembelance of faith in my fellow South African.
When levels of trust sink to dangerous lows, we know what happens. Zamdela happens. At least two service delivery protests a day happen. Credit down gradings happen. Marikana happens.
Many senior government officials have been transformed into nothing more than sycophants who fluff, bluff, pad, skirt, dodge and dive through one Zuma scandal after another, much like kamikaze pilots. Their compliance, their blind loyalty and willingness to be party to the Nkandla saga (and other controversies) only further serves to erode public trust in Government.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Backward, ho!
If you come across a MyCiti bus stop sign anywhere in the Woodstock, Salt River or Walmer Estate area, don't bother assembling under it. You'll be waiting a long time for a bus to arrive! There should be MyCiti buses operating in these neighbourhoods. But the closest I'll get to seeing a top class bus service in Woodstock (where I live) is on the City of Cape Town's web site. As we've come to expect, where efforts are made to improve public transport in this country, the mini-bus taxi industry seems to have the last say. In the case of the expansion of MyCiti services, an existing bus company, Golden Arrow, is also in a huff. And where there's a huff, there's also a puff of asininity. Golden Arrow and taxi groups fear the competition MyCiti will bring with it.
As a resident of Woodstock I've long wished for added public transport in the area so I can get out of my car, save some fuel and maybe even do the planet some good. There is a desperate need for added public transport in Woodstock and neighbouring suburbs. Taxis rule the roads in these areas. I reluctantly accept they do offer a much-needed service (albeit amid a flagrant disregard for their commuters' safety and the laws of the road.) Golden Arrow too has a role in getting people to their destinations. For decades the company has been, as it's slogan says, 'The bus for us.' But it's monopoly is in danger and as we know, when confronted with competition and change this country, the well- rehearsed reflex is to kick, scream and hold your breath until you get your way. Hey, the taxi industry is an expert in this regard. Ask the City of Johannesburg what happened when it started introducing Rea Vaya buses on its roads.
It will probably remain a wish and nothing more to have a quality bus service in my neighbourhood and the opportunity to choose the means of public transport I prefer. 'Get over it, you whinging twit' I hear you saying, 'Just use taxis or Golden Arrow buses like the rest.' A perfectly acceptable smack down response to my malaise... or is it?
Why are so many of us scared of competition? Why is it when attempts to introduce progress are made, knickers fly into knots? Surely in the case of Cape Town's public transport landscape, there is space for more bus services, like MyCiti? the outcry over the services expansion can't surely be just over money.
Of course the cliched argument is made that the City of Cape Town's doesn't have the required operating licences to expand Myciti to Woodstock et al. Cue the rolling of the eyes and gag reflex. Behind the cliche is a myopic, avaricious agenda, especially where the taxi industry is concerned. It's a short-sighted, backward, infantile reflex, which, if left unchecked as it is, will only keep us in the dark ages of coffin-taxis and monopolistic bus companies. The public is basically being denied the chance to choose how it wants to get from A to B.
For the time being I'll have to settle with daydreaming about a time when I can choose to leave my car parked; when I can choose the bus service I want to use based on tried and tested criteria: reliability, safety and economy. I fear I must continue to fantasise about a reliable public transport service in my suburb, free of the trappings of anti-competitiveness and childish justifications, as backwardness is allowed to thrive.
As a resident of Woodstock I've long wished for added public transport in the area so I can get out of my car, save some fuel and maybe even do the planet some good. There is a desperate need for added public transport in Woodstock and neighbouring suburbs. Taxis rule the roads in these areas. I reluctantly accept they do offer a much-needed service (albeit amid a flagrant disregard for their commuters' safety and the laws of the road.) Golden Arrow too has a role in getting people to their destinations. For decades the company has been, as it's slogan says, 'The bus for us.' But it's monopoly is in danger and as we know, when confronted with competition and change this country, the well- rehearsed reflex is to kick, scream and hold your breath until you get your way. Hey, the taxi industry is an expert in this regard. Ask the City of Johannesburg what happened when it started introducing Rea Vaya buses on its roads.
It will probably remain a wish and nothing more to have a quality bus service in my neighbourhood and the opportunity to choose the means of public transport I prefer. 'Get over it, you whinging twit' I hear you saying, 'Just use taxis or Golden Arrow buses like the rest.' A perfectly acceptable smack down response to my malaise... or is it?
Why are so many of us scared of competition? Why is it when attempts to introduce progress are made, knickers fly into knots? Surely in the case of Cape Town's public transport landscape, there is space for more bus services, like MyCiti? the outcry over the services expansion can't surely be just over money.
Of course the cliched argument is made that the City of Cape Town's doesn't have the required operating licences to expand Myciti to Woodstock et al. Cue the rolling of the eyes and gag reflex. Behind the cliche is a myopic, avaricious agenda, especially where the taxi industry is concerned. It's a short-sighted, backward, infantile reflex, which, if left unchecked as it is, will only keep us in the dark ages of coffin-taxis and monopolistic bus companies. The public is basically being denied the chance to choose how it wants to get from A to B.
For the time being I'll have to settle with daydreaming about a time when I can choose to leave my car parked; when I can choose the bus service I want to use based on tried and tested criteria: reliability, safety and economy. I fear I must continue to fantasise about a reliable public transport service in my suburb, free of the trappings of anti-competitiveness and childish justifications, as backwardness is allowed to thrive.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
To Resolve or not to Resolve
By now (the 2nd of January) those misguided enough (about 51 million of us) to have entered into those annoying annual contracts, where we resolve to better ourselves come a new year, have more than likely already deviated from these grandiose 'plans of action'. The temptation of our old habits prove to be too strong, whereour self-discipline is upstaged and exposed as paper-thin. I too made resolutions (mentally, so as to not to set myself up for public derision upon failure). At 12:59pm on the 31st of December I slurred through my lofty list of new year's resolutions (okay, maybe not a list, but I made a mental tally of about 4 resolutions. I can now only remember 2). Amid an onslaught pf hugging, kissing, back-slapping and handshaking I recall committing myself to not being so cynical. With a booze-induced goofball smile on my mug I declared, quietly to myself, that I will try to steel myself against the attack of cynicism brought on by life's many imperfections. My smile turned to a hawkish fortitude where my inner workings momentarily kicked into gear in concert with this near impossible resolution. I was hellbent on seeing the good in things (or at the very least the nice-ish aspects of our existence). You know, smell the flowers, randomly greet strangers in the street, don't snarl at babies - pedestrian changes in my attitude towards life. My second resolution: To live a healthier lifestyle. ( I hear you laughing).
With my new found positive state of mind, I again declared internally to work on building a six pack, to take up jogging and to eat more greens. Note: This purposeful stance was arrived at with a beer lodged in my one hand, a glass of cheap sparkling wine in the other, my well fed boep peaking out from under my shirt. Oh, irony who impudent strumpet! My healthier lifestyle could wait until the sun rises. That ball of fire and hydrogen rose far too soon; not just for me, but for the millions who also resolved, in a haze of over-indulgence, to become awesome, amazing, richer and thinner in 2013. By the evening of New Years day, a bottle of red wine stood empty on my kitchen table, my running shoes remained hidden in the wardrobe (where they've been more months) and Steers burgers beckoned. With this fantastic failure to launch, I forced the guilty to one side and consoled myself with a chorus of pop psychology 'mantras': 'You're only human, tomorrow is another day. Just try harder.' The nausea swirled into my soul. I am indeed only human, as are my fellow humans, among the elite of the ANC and government. My guilt searched for twisted logic to justify my failed resolutions. Instead my lingering cynicism dragged my substance-addled mind back to familiar territory. I focused my disappointment on, well, other disappointing things (disappointment, like misery, loves company) in a sad attempt to lift my mood. And so my mind limped onto thoughts of doom and gloom: the ANC.
Did the too resolve to better this year this year? I think so. Most party members may've still been drunk from the 'successes' of the Mangaung elective conference as the end of the year arrived. Many probably waddle-danced there way into a new year, ecstatic and elated at Jacob Zuma's victory. With their spirits high, many comrades may've settled on improving themselves in 2013. Could some have resolved to stop stealing from tax payers? Many may just have decided to actually get off their well lined backsides anf to start doining something that doesn't involved enriching themselves.
The policy resolutions from the conference could in many ways be interpreted as New Year resolutions of sorts, declarations of intent, where the ruling party wants to take the country, not just in 2013, but beyond that. Surely Msholozi, fresh from his re-election, made his own personal leadership resolutions. Denied the ability to read minds, I can only broadly speculate what these are.
On marriage, the President may just have decided firmly over a glass of his favourite tipple to whoo another bride with promises of easy business connections, an allowance compliments of tax payers and even her own spot in the sunshine that is the Nkandla compound/home/residence/base/kraal/estate. Would his resolutions include anything in the way of bettering his body and mind? Perhaps he wants to sharpen his intellect by actually reading something of substance. He could even keep his reading preferences close to home. There are books abound based on former comrades. Frank Chikane penned a book in 2012. There's one on the rise and fall of Jackie Selebi Zuma could thumb through for a laugh and a scowl. Hell, maybe he dares to pick up a copy of Zuma Exposed. As my high school English teacher would say, "A book, no matter its content, helps the mind, no matter it's content.' If Zuma could maybe pick up even a newspaper (not the New Age) in 2013 he could perhaps enter the reality the rest of the country endures daily. In 2012 when the country burned amid strikes, the Marikana tragedy, a declining economy; it seemed the president spent far too much time inside, dealing with party politics.
Will JZ resolve to develop a sense of humour this year? To me it seems to have llargely escaped him in 2012. The last half of the year was far from funny. But cast your mind to a painting infamously centered on Zuma's crown jewels, which hogged headlines earlier in the year. I guffawed at Brett Murray's 'The Spear' each time I saw it. JZ probably didn't. But he should've. Have you see how big it is (not the actual painting, the other, other 'it')?! He also seemed to lack the ability to laugh when the Nkandla saga reared its head. In Parliament he lamented how his family has become a laughing stock because of the multi-million rand upgrade to his Nkandla home. He should've been laughing himself at how easy it was for government to blow more than R200 million on building bunkers and helipads right before the country's eyes.
Zuma clearly also forgot his humour where Julius Malema was concerned. The little tyrant tried his best to keep his ego on the right side of the ANC in 2012. But Zuma, po-faced and menacing, meant business and sent his protegee packing.
But the president is only human (atleast, I think so), prone to making mistakes and unwittingly abandoning any new year's resolutions, before they've even begun. If there was a glimmer of changing himself in 2013, he too must've dropped the ball... on the 2nd day of a new year.
With my new found positive state of mind, I again declared internally to work on building a six pack, to take up jogging and to eat more greens. Note: This purposeful stance was arrived at with a beer lodged in my one hand, a glass of cheap sparkling wine in the other, my well fed boep peaking out from under my shirt. Oh, irony who impudent strumpet! My healthier lifestyle could wait until the sun rises. That ball of fire and hydrogen rose far too soon; not just for me, but for the millions who also resolved, in a haze of over-indulgence, to become awesome, amazing, richer and thinner in 2013. By the evening of New Years day, a bottle of red wine stood empty on my kitchen table, my running shoes remained hidden in the wardrobe (where they've been more months) and Steers burgers beckoned. With this fantastic failure to launch, I forced the guilty to one side and consoled myself with a chorus of pop psychology 'mantras': 'You're only human, tomorrow is another day. Just try harder.' The nausea swirled into my soul. I am indeed only human, as are my fellow humans, among the elite of the ANC and government. My guilt searched for twisted logic to justify my failed resolutions. Instead my lingering cynicism dragged my substance-addled mind back to familiar territory. I focused my disappointment on, well, other disappointing things (disappointment, like misery, loves company) in a sad attempt to lift my mood. And so my mind limped onto thoughts of doom and gloom: the ANC.
Did the too resolve to better this year this year? I think so. Most party members may've still been drunk from the 'successes' of the Mangaung elective conference as the end of the year arrived. Many probably waddle-danced there way into a new year, ecstatic and elated at Jacob Zuma's victory. With their spirits high, many comrades may've settled on improving themselves in 2013. Could some have resolved to stop stealing from tax payers? Many may just have decided to actually get off their well lined backsides anf to start doining something that doesn't involved enriching themselves.
The policy resolutions from the conference could in many ways be interpreted as New Year resolutions of sorts, declarations of intent, where the ruling party wants to take the country, not just in 2013, but beyond that. Surely Msholozi, fresh from his re-election, made his own personal leadership resolutions. Denied the ability to read minds, I can only broadly speculate what these are.
On marriage, the President may just have decided firmly over a glass of his favourite tipple to whoo another bride with promises of easy business connections, an allowance compliments of tax payers and even her own spot in the sunshine that is the Nkandla compound/home/residence/base/kraal/estate. Would his resolutions include anything in the way of bettering his body and mind? Perhaps he wants to sharpen his intellect by actually reading something of substance. He could even keep his reading preferences close to home. There are books abound based on former comrades. Frank Chikane penned a book in 2012. There's one on the rise and fall of Jackie Selebi Zuma could thumb through for a laugh and a scowl. Hell, maybe he dares to pick up a copy of Zuma Exposed. As my high school English teacher would say, "A book, no matter its content, helps the mind, no matter it's content.' If Zuma could maybe pick up even a newspaper (not the New Age) in 2013 he could perhaps enter the reality the rest of the country endures daily. In 2012 when the country burned amid strikes, the Marikana tragedy, a declining economy; it seemed the president spent far too much time inside, dealing with party politics.
Will JZ resolve to develop a sense of humour this year? To me it seems to have llargely escaped him in 2012. The last half of the year was far from funny. But cast your mind to a painting infamously centered on Zuma's crown jewels, which hogged headlines earlier in the year. I guffawed at Brett Murray's 'The Spear' each time I saw it. JZ probably didn't. But he should've. Have you see how big it is (not the actual painting, the other, other 'it')?! He also seemed to lack the ability to laugh when the Nkandla saga reared its head. In Parliament he lamented how his family has become a laughing stock because of the multi-million rand upgrade to his Nkandla home. He should've been laughing himself at how easy it was for government to blow more than R200 million on building bunkers and helipads right before the country's eyes.
Zuma clearly also forgot his humour where Julius Malema was concerned. The little tyrant tried his best to keep his ego on the right side of the ANC in 2012. But Zuma, po-faced and menacing, meant business and sent his protegee packing.
But the president is only human (atleast, I think so), prone to making mistakes and unwittingly abandoning any new year's resolutions, before they've even begun. If there was a glimmer of changing himself in 2013, he too must've dropped the ball... on the 2nd day of a new year.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Blah blah Gaga
With the absurdity and desperate publicity antics that accompany Lady Gaga wherever she goes, I had to ask myself if perhaps she had a hand in the recent 'wave' of protests against her tour of South Africa, given her outlandish penchant of deliberately drawing attention to herself. I'm not at all surprised by the reaction of some in Indonesia, when she dared to bring her seemingly meretricious and hyperbolic act to that country. Indonesia is fierce ly protective of it's religious identity, albeit in a rather medieval way. The country clearly doesn't take kindly to the meat (was it Halaal, we still don't know?!) attire, egg transport habits and cancer-inducing spectacles the pop star has infamously made famous. Congregations of Catholic-spooked Filipinos also got themselves in a huff recently, when Gaga turned her attention to their country. But religious protests against a musician in SA?! Computer says 'Ummmm...?'
But there they were, with their placards, crosses, Bibles, condescending attitudes and punchy protest slogans ('Hell no, Lady Go' or something like that) outside ticketing offices, their selective morals on display alongside their intolerance towards anything and anyone who doesn't look like them or hold their beliefs. The four horsemen of the apocalypse bridled their steeds, hell and brimstone loomed in their warnings, 'She's a Satanist' bellowed one demonstrator. One organiser warned, 'Allowing the bride of Satan into the country will allow a curse to enter.' Bride of Satan?! The Dark Lord must be rather chuffed he can still attract such a prominent personality to the dark side. Of course, the greenies joined the queue to vent their fury at the musician bringing her Satanically carnivorous tendencies to Africa. Her meat apparel and proclivity for wearing fur has their lentils in a twist. Although, these types tend to at least steer clear (for the most part) of hypocrisy. The same can't be said for the anti-Gaga legions of the Lord.
Despite the uproar, Lady Gaga, staged a 'successful' concert in Joburg. 'Successful' because as I woke up the next day I couldn't make out any signs of a curse on our country (except maybe further news of the curse that is President Jacob Zuma's spending habits.) I peered apprehensively out of the window expecting scenes from apocalypse-stricken '2012.' I dressed accordingly expecting temperatures to soar as hell burnt through to the top. Nope, nothing. Just more anal retentive cyclists, errant taxi drivers and a disturbingly blue sky. Where were the sulphur and demons? What happened to the infernos? Why were there no horns sprouting from my head? She came and went... and Joburg, as well as the world, is still intact. Well, for the most part, at least.
With the energy spent on preventing Gaga from opening the gates of hell, I wonder if these fundamentalist Christians, so deeply opposed to her, ever thought of staging similarr protests against other bands visiting our shores. Where were the wise-cracking religious-right slogans when those beasts of the underworld, Coldplay, delivered upon us their venom? Why were pickets not held when devil's own, Kings of Leon, toured here? Are the band's risque lyrics (see 'Sex on Fire') not too, well, risque for their sensibilities? Over the very same weekend Lady Goo Goo performed, those arson-inciting, misogynistic-inclined electro-rockers, The Prodigy, were also in the country doing a concert. As far as I know the the fundamentalists were nowhere to be found when this band, who's one song infamously threatens to 'Smack my b*tch up' gigged in the Cape this past weekend. Selective protesting against the universal right to make music appears to be the agenda of this grouping of religious nuts. Or is it a sad, myopic attempt to grab headlines a la Julius Malema style?
Will these very same gospel-haunted prudes dare to take on Metallica when they tour the country next year? Will there be the same kind of reception for The Red Hot Chili Peppers when they tour, what with the band's long-standing logo, which could easily be interpreted as a bastardised cross (that's if you allow your mind to be narrowed into the same gutters of asininity as the anti-Gaga brigade.)
I vividly recall a pious deputy-principal at my high school singling me out as a 'problem' because I listened to the likes of Metallica. Little did he know Metallica was the tamest of all the bands I listened to as a seething adolescent. This misguided educator lectured me on the dangers of such music and it's association with Lucifer and all things that didn't fit his idea of twisted morality.
I roll my eyes now, much like I did then when confronted with such views. At the time, I roll my eyes as I witness Gaga concert-goers trooping off to see her, dressed as morons and humming her songbook of brain-numbing tunes. They do so at their own peril - Apparently hell awaits and so does the scorn of religious hypocrites.
But there they were, with their placards, crosses, Bibles, condescending attitudes and punchy protest slogans ('Hell no, Lady Go' or something like that) outside ticketing offices, their selective morals on display alongside their intolerance towards anything and anyone who doesn't look like them or hold their beliefs. The four horsemen of the apocalypse bridled their steeds, hell and brimstone loomed in their warnings, 'She's a Satanist' bellowed one demonstrator. One organiser warned, 'Allowing the bride of Satan into the country will allow a curse to enter.' Bride of Satan?! The Dark Lord must be rather chuffed he can still attract such a prominent personality to the dark side. Of course, the greenies joined the queue to vent their fury at the musician bringing her Satanically carnivorous tendencies to Africa. Her meat apparel and proclivity for wearing fur has their lentils in a twist. Although, these types tend to at least steer clear (for the most part) of hypocrisy. The same can't be said for the anti-Gaga legions of the Lord.
Despite the uproar, Lady Gaga, staged a 'successful' concert in Joburg. 'Successful' because as I woke up the next day I couldn't make out any signs of a curse on our country (except maybe further news of the curse that is President Jacob Zuma's spending habits.) I peered apprehensively out of the window expecting scenes from apocalypse-stricken '2012.' I dressed accordingly expecting temperatures to soar as hell burnt through to the top. Nope, nothing. Just more anal retentive cyclists, errant taxi drivers and a disturbingly blue sky. Where were the sulphur and demons? What happened to the infernos? Why were there no horns sprouting from my head? She came and went... and Joburg, as well as the world, is still intact. Well, for the most part, at least.
With the energy spent on preventing Gaga from opening the gates of hell, I wonder if these fundamentalist Christians, so deeply opposed to her, ever thought of staging similarr protests against other bands visiting our shores. Where were the wise-cracking religious-right slogans when those beasts of the underworld, Coldplay, delivered upon us their venom? Why were pickets not held when devil's own, Kings of Leon, toured here? Are the band's risque lyrics (see 'Sex on Fire') not too, well, risque for their sensibilities? Over the very same weekend Lady Goo Goo performed, those arson-inciting, misogynistic-inclined electro-rockers, The Prodigy, were also in the country doing a concert. As far as I know the the fundamentalists were nowhere to be found when this band, who's one song infamously threatens to 'Smack my b*tch up' gigged in the Cape this past weekend. Selective protesting against the universal right to make music appears to be the agenda of this grouping of religious nuts. Or is it a sad, myopic attempt to grab headlines a la Julius Malema style?
Will these very same gospel-haunted prudes dare to take on Metallica when they tour the country next year? Will there be the same kind of reception for The Red Hot Chili Peppers when they tour, what with the band's long-standing logo, which could easily be interpreted as a bastardised cross (that's if you allow your mind to be narrowed into the same gutters of asininity as the anti-Gaga brigade.)
I vividly recall a pious deputy-principal at my high school singling me out as a 'problem' because I listened to the likes of Metallica. Little did he know Metallica was the tamest of all the bands I listened to as a seething adolescent. This misguided educator lectured me on the dangers of such music and it's association with Lucifer and all things that didn't fit his idea of twisted morality.
I roll my eyes now, much like I did then when confronted with such views. At the time, I roll my eyes as I witness Gaga concert-goers trooping off to see her, dressed as morons and humming her songbook of brain-numbing tunes. They do so at their own peril - Apparently hell awaits and so does the scorn of religious hypocrites.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Striking for Blood
2012 could arguably be characterised and dubbed as 'The Year of the Strike'. On my 10 fingers (my toes kept in in reserve) I've counted around 22 major industrial actions this year, covering and overlapping a number of crucial sectors. South Africa has in a sense become uncomfortably comfortable with the concept of strike action. It was a right violently denied under Apartheid. And like a fat child on a diet, being denied sweets and McDonald's burgers,trade unions, who were denied the right to legally call strikes in the past, seem to be stuffing themselves with industrial actions, making up for lost time and opportunities.
The PC thing to do and say is to sympathise with many workers. Many are truly downtrodden, they cheated and bitter, especially in the face of the feeding frenzy we see in government for money. Their grievances are almost always justified... except, my sympathy is waning.
As striking farm labourers in De Doorns in the Cape set fire to hectares of vineyard, torched houses and looted shops I ask: Has the right to strike, to vent and to show one's anger been taken too far? Will this rampant violence really achieve anything apart from damaging the legitimacy of strike? ON the latter question the answer is simple - No.
Maybe to a degree in the case of De Doorns it forced the hand of grape farmers in the region to revisit labour issues around a negotiating table. The strike revealed the agonisingly shameful conditions under which farm staffers have had to work, for decades. Mission accomplished. The industrial action hurried the relevant stakeholders to the table. But in real terms, it won't hurry a tangible solution.
It's common knowledge farm workers are among the lowest paid in the country and have historically been marginalised. But could it be these strikers are envious and crave attention? Could the actions of a few mindless individuals be viewed as a form of jealousy, where some are seen to be jostling for attention among the working class, given all the focus which has been trained on the likes of the mining sector? Was it a sad attempt to grab headlines? I struggle to sympathise with workers amid what I honestly regard as an idiotic, futile display of bestial, rabid violence, which is defacing a protected right to demand better wages, etc. If they can resort to anarchy, why can't I also then tip my desk over, stomp on my computer and toyi-toyi outside the bosses office? Does it not occur to those strikers, prone to violence, that perhaps the message they are sending is that they have become nothing more but glorified criminals, disguised as the stereotype of a desperate member of the proletariat and all it's romantic associations under Marxism? Probably not. The visual of man on a TV news broadcast haphazardly carrying a cash register after looting a shop during a wave of unrest that clinched De Doorns recently stands out in my mind like an unsightly pimple. Was he a shop owner, jealous of his competitors cash register? Again, probably not. In all likelihood he was just another fool who allowed himself to get caught up in a moment of madness, which entailed him grabbing whatever he could in the heat of the looting. Once the daftness lifted, I hope it occurred to him his actions amounted to little more than criminality and stupidity. Amid this madness, we are expected to sympathise because we have it better than them. Sorry. My sympathy has gone on strike.
Much like striking miners turning on each other, waging a war of sorts on their own in the mining sector, the act of striking now translates into real conflict, with weapons, bloodshed and peace talks. At the same time, the right to down tools is being degraded by wanton violence, which won't help ease the grip of poverty, but only worsen it. A lot like truck drivers who downed their keys earlier this year couldn't just limit their grievances and actions to pickets and protest marches. Many thought it necessary to torch trucks and attack non-striking colleagues. In at one such case, a man died in Cape Town. Where are trade unions and their officials in all this? Some are in boardrooms, exercising the right to negotiate with employers. No doubt some of these talks could be likened to peace negotiations. Others, however, are among the legions of the maddened strikers. They form part of the rank and file of asininity. Many of these so-called unionists seem content to simply witness to the carnage and rarely ever speaking out against it. Those who do speak opt to tow a tenuous line, absurdly defending union members, denying they are party to the mayhem. In such instances, the collective intelligence of the entire country is tested. Those who choose to believe these poorly constructed lines of defence should count themselves as part of the ongoing fatuity.
Let me put it this way - if setting fire to trucks, houses and farmland is to be justified by some (many of whom like to frame themselves as radicals) in the struggle for better wages, then surely torching the Union Buildings and Parliament would be another (even more radical) way to display workers' rage? Surely then tax payers would be within their rights to descend on Parliament, armed with knobkieries, spears and petrol bombs and take matters in our own hands every time news of President Jacob Zuma's spending habits emerges? As a quick disclaimer, let me assure you I don't condone this, even though much of the rage seen this year during strikes should actually be directed at Government, and at times all I want to do is take my anger over the flagrant abuse of our monies onto the streets.
The PC thing to do and say is to sympathise with many workers. Many are truly downtrodden, they cheated and bitter, especially in the face of the feeding frenzy we see in government for money. Their grievances are almost always justified... except, my sympathy is waning.
As striking farm labourers in De Doorns in the Cape set fire to hectares of vineyard, torched houses and looted shops I ask: Has the right to strike, to vent and to show one's anger been taken too far? Will this rampant violence really achieve anything apart from damaging the legitimacy of strike? ON the latter question the answer is simple - No.
Maybe to a degree in the case of De Doorns it forced the hand of grape farmers in the region to revisit labour issues around a negotiating table. The strike revealed the agonisingly shameful conditions under which farm staffers have had to work, for decades. Mission accomplished. The industrial action hurried the relevant stakeholders to the table. But in real terms, it won't hurry a tangible solution.
It's common knowledge farm workers are among the lowest paid in the country and have historically been marginalised. But could it be these strikers are envious and crave attention? Could the actions of a few mindless individuals be viewed as a form of jealousy, where some are seen to be jostling for attention among the working class, given all the focus which has been trained on the likes of the mining sector? Was it a sad attempt to grab headlines? I struggle to sympathise with workers amid what I honestly regard as an idiotic, futile display of bestial, rabid violence, which is defacing a protected right to demand better wages, etc. If they can resort to anarchy, why can't I also then tip my desk over, stomp on my computer and toyi-toyi outside the bosses office? Does it not occur to those strikers, prone to violence, that perhaps the message they are sending is that they have become nothing more but glorified criminals, disguised as the stereotype of a desperate member of the proletariat and all it's romantic associations under Marxism? Probably not. The visual of man on a TV news broadcast haphazardly carrying a cash register after looting a shop during a wave of unrest that clinched De Doorns recently stands out in my mind like an unsightly pimple. Was he a shop owner, jealous of his competitors cash register? Again, probably not. In all likelihood he was just another fool who allowed himself to get caught up in a moment of madness, which entailed him grabbing whatever he could in the heat of the looting. Once the daftness lifted, I hope it occurred to him his actions amounted to little more than criminality and stupidity. Amid this madness, we are expected to sympathise because we have it better than them. Sorry. My sympathy has gone on strike.
Much like striking miners turning on each other, waging a war of sorts on their own in the mining sector, the act of striking now translates into real conflict, with weapons, bloodshed and peace talks. At the same time, the right to down tools is being degraded by wanton violence, which won't help ease the grip of poverty, but only worsen it. A lot like truck drivers who downed their keys earlier this year couldn't just limit their grievances and actions to pickets and protest marches. Many thought it necessary to torch trucks and attack non-striking colleagues. In at one such case, a man died in Cape Town. Where are trade unions and their officials in all this? Some are in boardrooms, exercising the right to negotiate with employers. No doubt some of these talks could be likened to peace negotiations. Others, however, are among the legions of the maddened strikers. They form part of the rank and file of asininity. Many of these so-called unionists seem content to simply witness to the carnage and rarely ever speaking out against it. Those who do speak opt to tow a tenuous line, absurdly defending union members, denying they are party to the mayhem. In such instances, the collective intelligence of the entire country is tested. Those who choose to believe these poorly constructed lines of defence should count themselves as part of the ongoing fatuity.
Let me put it this way - if setting fire to trucks, houses and farmland is to be justified by some (many of whom like to frame themselves as radicals) in the struggle for better wages, then surely torching the Union Buildings and Parliament would be another (even more radical) way to display workers' rage? Surely then tax payers would be within their rights to descend on Parliament, armed with knobkieries, spears and petrol bombs and take matters in our own hands every time news of President Jacob Zuma's spending habits emerges? As a quick disclaimer, let me assure you I don't condone this, even though much of the rage seen this year during strikes should actually be directed at Government, and at times all I want to do is take my anger over the flagrant abuse of our monies onto the streets.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Public Work-less
I'd love to be a fly on the wall of President Jacob Zuma's office (or lounge, bathroom, chauffeured car, his new Nkandla office) when he does, what seem to have become regular, cabinet reshuffles. How does he choose where people will be 'deployed' to? What are the criteria (pulling straws, flipping coins)? I'm sure it must be tough. Or not. With the ANC's policy of 'cadre deployment' one could simply conclude it comes down to who's the most loyal and sycophantic. Cynical and reductionist answer, sure, but with the behaviour of some cabinet ministers, it's maybe the only conclusion, as dispirited and jaundiced as it is, we should and are able to come to.
It's also partly a case of who would be dumb/brave/desperate enough to accept an offer to become a government minister, especially one tasked with taking over a portfolio as damned as that of Public Works. I often wonder what were the reasons Thulas Nxesi agreed to taken a sip from that now suitably poisoned chalice that is the Public Works ministry. He's been in his position for just under a year, having 'inherited' the position of minister from Gwen Nkabinde-Mahlangu, who was sent packing after the SAPS building lease debacle further reinforced the damning downward spiral Public Works was following. In politics nothing happens quickly, so I'll forgive Nxesi, to a point, for not having been able to effectively rehabilitate his department. Up until last week I liked the language Nxesi was talking. Words like 'dysfunctional', 'disarray', 'urgent action' were used in seemingly frank and honest tones when Nxesi described the state the ministry has been in. I like tough love, particularly in government, purely because it allows no space for sentiment and emotions. And Nxesi appeared to be taking this approach, freeing himself of brain dead towing of party lines. That was until last Friday (5th October). Like Public Works ministers before him, Nxesi had developed a long face, scarred with a frown framed by a distinct irritated tone in his voice and a neurotic-paranoid state of mind. These have become symptoms of all Public Works bosses. He was dealing with yet another scandal involving the ministry. Sharp, trenchant questions from reporters on the now scandalous Nkandla project (or 'Zumaville' as we can cheekily label it) sent him into that corner where his predecessors and politicians generally go to whine, clumsily defend, accuse, skirt around the edges, pass-the-buck and awkwardly deny when confronted with sensitive matters. Very little came of that Friday press conference in the way of intelligible explainations as to why it's perfectly fine for taxpayers to be bankrolling the R200 million plus Nkandla development. Instead Nxesi adopted the attitude of his predecessors by crouching in the above-mentioned corner and blaming the media and everyone else for being sensationalistic, inflammatory, irresponsible. An opportunity to show he's different from those before him was squandered. He reinforced his threats of launching an investigation, not to determine if something is rotten with the whole issue, but ostensibly to reveal whistle blowers and pesky informants who keep 'leaking' information to the media and perpetuating the label of 'Public Work-less' which the department has come to be known as by many.
Nkandla is just one niggling concern involving Public Works. The cliche 'only the tip of the iceberg' sums it up perfectly when talking about the mountain of problems actually facing the department.
I made a point of recording the number of times the department has been mentioned in recent weeks at various Parliamentary Portfolio Committee meetings. And not it glowing terms. I distinctly recall a delegation of officials from Correctional Services outlining to a committee how the many problems with Public Works in turn impact on their job, in one way or another. For example, the building of a number of new prisons has been in some way impeded because of issues dogging Public Works. I've lost count how many times complaints surfaced in Police Portfolio Committee meetings directed at Public Works and how it's ongoing shortcomings are having a domino affect. At a Health Portfolio Committee gathering, the ailing ministry (Public Works that is) kept being brought up as an impediment of some kind to hospital refurbishment projects.
Everything in government overlaps at some point and clearly the botheration plaguing Public Works is not isolated. Much like corruption, it's dysfunction is becoming endemic. Nxesi may've been handed a poisoned chalice. However, instead of simply throwing the contents out, he's quite happy to continue sipping from the same container Stella Sigcau, Geoff Doidge and Gwen Nkabinde-Mahlangu drank from. He's quite content chasing whistle blowers , attacking the media and kow-towing to the ANC, where he could instead actually revive, at the very least, the Public Works department's soiled image. Much like the many government buildings and structures Public Works is responsible for (as part of its mandate), the department has itself become a ghetto-type tenement, inhabited by individuals who don't seem to care about the alarming state of disrepair it's in.
It's also partly a case of who would be dumb/brave/desperate enough to accept an offer to become a government minister, especially one tasked with taking over a portfolio as damned as that of Public Works. I often wonder what were the reasons Thulas Nxesi agreed to taken a sip from that now suitably poisoned chalice that is the Public Works ministry. He's been in his position for just under a year, having 'inherited' the position of minister from Gwen Nkabinde-Mahlangu, who was sent packing after the SAPS building lease debacle further reinforced the damning downward spiral Public Works was following. In politics nothing happens quickly, so I'll forgive Nxesi, to a point, for not having been able to effectively rehabilitate his department. Up until last week I liked the language Nxesi was talking. Words like 'dysfunctional', 'disarray', 'urgent action' were used in seemingly frank and honest tones when Nxesi described the state the ministry has been in. I like tough love, particularly in government, purely because it allows no space for sentiment and emotions. And Nxesi appeared to be taking this approach, freeing himself of brain dead towing of party lines. That was until last Friday (5th October). Like Public Works ministers before him, Nxesi had developed a long face, scarred with a frown framed by a distinct irritated tone in his voice and a neurotic-paranoid state of mind. These have become symptoms of all Public Works bosses. He was dealing with yet another scandal involving the ministry. Sharp, trenchant questions from reporters on the now scandalous Nkandla project (or 'Zumaville' as we can cheekily label it) sent him into that corner where his predecessors and politicians generally go to whine, clumsily defend, accuse, skirt around the edges, pass-the-buck and awkwardly deny when confronted with sensitive matters. Very little came of that Friday press conference in the way of intelligible explainations as to why it's perfectly fine for taxpayers to be bankrolling the R200 million plus Nkandla development. Instead Nxesi adopted the attitude of his predecessors by crouching in the above-mentioned corner and blaming the media and everyone else for being sensationalistic, inflammatory, irresponsible. An opportunity to show he's different from those before him was squandered. He reinforced his threats of launching an investigation, not to determine if something is rotten with the whole issue, but ostensibly to reveal whistle blowers and pesky informants who keep 'leaking' information to the media and perpetuating the label of 'Public Work-less' which the department has come to be known as by many.
Nkandla is just one niggling concern involving Public Works. The cliche 'only the tip of the iceberg' sums it up perfectly when talking about the mountain of problems actually facing the department.
I made a point of recording the number of times the department has been mentioned in recent weeks at various Parliamentary Portfolio Committee meetings. And not it glowing terms. I distinctly recall a delegation of officials from Correctional Services outlining to a committee how the many problems with Public Works in turn impact on their job, in one way or another. For example, the building of a number of new prisons has been in some way impeded because of issues dogging Public Works. I've lost count how many times complaints surfaced in Police Portfolio Committee meetings directed at Public Works and how it's ongoing shortcomings are having a domino affect. At a Health Portfolio Committee gathering, the ailing ministry (Public Works that is) kept being brought up as an impediment of some kind to hospital refurbishment projects.
Everything in government overlaps at some point and clearly the botheration plaguing Public Works is not isolated. Much like corruption, it's dysfunction is becoming endemic. Nxesi may've been handed a poisoned chalice. However, instead of simply throwing the contents out, he's quite happy to continue sipping from the same container Stella Sigcau, Geoff Doidge and Gwen Nkabinde-Mahlangu drank from. He's quite content chasing whistle blowers , attacking the media and kow-towing to the ANC, where he could instead actually revive, at the very least, the Public Works department's soiled image. Much like the many government buildings and structures Public Works is responsible for (as part of its mandate), the department has itself become a ghetto-type tenement, inhabited by individuals who don't seem to care about the alarming state of disrepair it's in.
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