Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 532

Aesthetics of the Phallus

Yesterday, Goodman Gallery emailed a press release to its huge recipient list, announcing a “joint settlement with [the] ANC.” After closed meetings, conducted in “order to establish common ground and a basis for resolution” in which all parties strove “to strike a balance” between maligned factions “in a spirit of amicability,” the Gallery felt it had maintained its “integrity as a contemporary art space dedicated to freedom of expression and to the voice of dissent.”

 The (now defaced) Penisgate painting by Brett Murray has come down. And the ANC will no longer sue the hell out of Murray and the Goodman. (Read the backstory by Sean here.)

This purported “amicability” stands in contrast to statements by Ferial Haffajee of the City Press, who openly wrote that her editorial decision to take down the image of the infamous painting on the City Press website was based partly due to “fear” (and that she would “be silly not to admit that”). “Out of care and as an olive branch to play a small role in helping turn around a tough moment, I have decided to take down the image,” Haffajee began, and went on to say that when they first published a review of Murray’s work, featuring “The Spear” as one of the images from his show, she “could not have anticipated that it would snowball into a moment of such absolute rage and pain,” nor how thin “amicability” and respect for the “dignity” of Others remain in South Africa.* Whilst the whole hullabaloo seems to have little to do with race, and more to do with two rights guaranteed by the constitution—one, that South Africa guarantees a person their right to dignity (which Zuma/the ANC claim is threatened by Murray’s painting), and two, that freedom of expression is also protected by the constitution (which Murray/the gallery feel is muzzled, if they could not display the painting)—we all learnt how quickly things can get racialised, especially when there’s an election for which to muster up support.

Zuma has successfully built a presidency playing the victim card repeatedly, and the ANC Youth League and Women’s League have routinely acted as joint ringmasters, creating fireworks and spectacles that distract from pressing daily challenges faced by many (I’ll take a risk and say that it is, in fact, most) who came out in support of Zuma: the absence of service delivery, systematic gender violence, and lack of access to basic education (not to mention corruption, nepotism, cronyism and a general culture that encourages poor governance practices). Lately, however, it looked as though the gig was up for Zuma; but then, along came the Burning Spear. Murray’s painting provided the rallying point around which Zuma and those who stand to gain from his presidency could gather. What a pity that the Women’s League and the Youth League (in support of all their mothers, sisters, friends, wives, and lovers) didn’t march to express outrage about daily physical abuses and material indignities experienced by women in South Africa, rather than the indignities experienced by a caricatured man who has made a career—and a presidency—based on amassing a circus atmosphere around him and his genitalia.

Why all this remarkable ceremony around the royal phallus, a little piece of skin hanging outside the body? Achille Mbeme, in On the Postcolony, reminds us that obsession with “orifices and protuberances” in the postcolony must be understood within the context of two factors: the first is derived from an understanding that those in power (the “commandement”) are marked as having a “taste for lecherous living”; the second from the understanding that the body is the “principal locale of the idioms and fantasies used in depicting power”; the same body that is used to display magnificence and power is the same one that eats, defecates, and ‘misbehaves’ (“Aesthetics of Vulgarity”). Vulgar humour that makes reference to the commandement’s misbehaving body is an expression of the public’s apprehension of that power—and an attempt to take it down a notch. In turn, attempts to shut down the recognition of the “body royale” as a “real” body is also an attempt to construct it as untouchable, powerful, and sacred.

No wonder that Penisgate, like all supernovas in our galaxy, had an ego with a massive gravitational pull. Weeks have been spent considering the unequal amounts of dignity afforded to white or black male genitalia; and how/whether it was racist to continue to disparage black men’s sexuality, even though we all knew that all that the artist was doing was cutting and pasting one set of genitals over another already overexposed and extraordinarily empowered man’s general crotch area. When protests were organized by the ANC, people were bussed in from all parts of the country; in the live report (of the South African newspaper) The Times, we have one member of the public, Sipho Mweli, who reported that he came all the way from Mpumalanga to join the protest in support of Zuma. He hung a cardboard placard around his neck, on which he had handwritten a message to Brett Murray: “Draw your white father naked not our president.” Classic.

Others who pilgrimaged for Zuma’s dignity included Elijah Tauraza, also from Mpumalanga, who noted that the painting was not only undignifying, but also borne of ignorance; he asked, “How do you portray the president exposed when you have not seen him that way, even when he grew up?” Indeed, Murray. Your quick cut and paste job didn’t even give the man his proper due.

And reportedly, the octogenarian photographer, David Goldblatt, along with artist and activist Bongi Dhlomo, bravely volunteered, “of their own volition, to be there when Neil Dundas accepted the memorandum from the ANC at the protest March on Tuesday,” according to the Goodman’s press release. What a show it must have been.

Many other jewels were forged under the pressure of this great distraction, including a rare set of spoof Spears; notable among them is one for Save the Rhinos. It prompted some in the public to ask if this was “a horny white or black rhino” to which others replied, David Attenborough-meets-Apartheid-census-bureaucrat style, “apparently you can tell from the size of its ears, the shape of its mouth, and its preferred foraging grounds”.

And Charl Blignaut’s follow-up article gave us an overview of South African art that “court[ed] controversy and challeng[ed] authority,” and like Murray’s, has “been greeted by violence and…elevated their creators to international fame.” Some of the works are lame, and others are truly nuanced, thought-provoking, and deserving of attention.

One rare moment of true dignity did show up. During last week’s court hearings (yup, the ANC really filed an application in the South Gauteng High Court), Neels Claassen, one of three presiding judges, challenged Gcina Malindi, asking why the lawyer representing the ANC had argued that the artist’s depiction of Zuma was akin to a “colonial attack on the black culture of this country.” Malindi, who had himself been imprisoned in the late 1980s, “broke down in tears, later saying he had been overcome by memories of the apartheid era”; he explained (to the white judge) that “art experts who defended the painting were arguing from the perspective of South Africa’s white, educated elite [and] that in a country divided by education and culture, the court should take into account not just the opinions of a ‘super class’ of art experts, but also the views of the many black South Africans, denied education under apartheid, who are angered and humiliated by the painting’s message.”

Many in the country were schooled, and honestly moved by the power of Malindi’s words; it was hard not to recognise that he was calling for compassion over the many wants of the ‘super class’. His weeping prompted more miles of column space devoted to the sudden recognition of the dignity of the black man. But really? Did a lawyer (who may actually be wasting his considerable intellectual capabilities defending Zuma’s right to dignity) have to have a public and momentary psychic break before we all got that memo about black men’s dignity?

Brett Murray’s argument, “I am not a racist,” was less eloquent.

* We hope Haffajee—in her open letter to Zuma’s daughter—was not designating Angola’s first-daughter-for-life Isabel dos Santos as some kind of role model of  ”a fine businesswoman” with an “acumen for the entrepreneurial.” In her column defending both the publishing and then removal of the painting from City Press’s website Haffajee added: “This is the nice part of being a first daughter – the access to networks and opportunities that can place you ahead of the pack.”

World Theater Day in Tunis, Part II

March 25th is dedicated in the world to theater. In the spirit of that day, stage actors gathered at Habib Bourguiba Avenue, in front of the Municipal Theatre, Tunis. But, apparently, this event coincided with a demonstration staged by a religious group that most Tunisians refer to as “Salafists”. The term “Salafist” is beginning to replace the word “Islamist” in Tunis these days. Never mind that activities attributed to these so-called Salafists, including pursuing women to force them to wear the hijab or niqab, raiding bookshops and bars, and threatening owners of such establishments, is in contrast to the original Salafist movement that emerged in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as a part of the enlightenment and reform movement that was grounded in peaceful change.

Back to Habib Bourguiba in Tunis. The gathering of “Salafists” reportedly threw eggs, bottles and other objects at the performing artists. They also allegedly prevented the artists from leaving the theatre until rescued by the police. Following this incident, Tunis artists condemned both the interior and culture ministries for failing to protect the actors from the violence and for not protecting their freedom of speech from the “salafists”. This was not the end of the matter though. Come May 26: the revenge of the theater actors on Habib Bourguiba. This time around, the events went well without much hitch. No counter gatherings of salafists. Plays, operas, children’s events, participatory performances by audiences and even some “open society” speeches lit up the front of the municipal theater. Some of the activities and performances are captured and presented in the photos above, below and on our Tumblr.

Christine Lagarde cares for Niger

Where does neoliberalism find its conscience? Apparently, in rural Niger.

The toughest question IMF president Christine Lagarde faced in yet another fawning interview with the Guardian (there’s been a series of these now, and it’s simply inexcusable for a paper which considers itself to be of the Left) was a kind of softened version of “How do you sleep at night?” As the interviewer Decca Aitkenhead put it: “when [Lagarde] studies the Greek balance sheet and demands measures she knows may mean women won’t have access to a midwife when they give birth, and patients won’t get life-saving drugs, and the elderly will die alone for lack of care – does she block all of that out and just look at the sums?”

To which, Lagarde responds:

No, I think more of the little kids from a school in a little village in Niger who get teaching two hours a day, sharing one chair for three of them, and who are very keen to get an education. I have them in my mind all the time. Because I think they need even more help than the people in Athens.” She breaks off for a pointedly meaningful pause, before leaning forward.

“Do you know what? As far as Athens is concerned, I also think about all those people who are trying to escape tax all the time. All these people in Greece who are trying to escape tax.”

At the critical moment when the technocrat is invited to consider whether or not she gives any kind of a shit about the people who are getting screwed by her “austerity” agenda, Africa is introduced. The cynicism of the comparison is breathtaking: three Nigerien children are thrust suddenly onto the scene of Greek misery and relied upon to act as a kind of irresistible moral buffer, soaking up whatever empathy we might have for those who have been hurt most throughout the Eurozone’s tortuous collapse.

Lagarde performs a carefully calibrated sham of being racked with fellow-feeling in Niger. She does this in order to humanise herself, cheapen the suffering in Greece, and justify the sadistic and gleeful way in which she and the IMF have deepened the plight of that country. Real suffering is for Africa, insists Lagarde, and so European poverty can never be authentic: no European can be poor enough. (She is specific on Niger but one suspects this is simply because the food crisis in the Sahel is the current focal point of international humanitarian campaigning on the continent.)

This is not Madeleine Albright’s infamous immoral calculus that considered the deaths of 500,000 Iraqi children under sanctions to be “worth it”.  Lagarde will not even admit to human suffering in the Eurozone as a cost of her manic assault on state institutions across the continent, instead offering the Niger comparison, which in spite of its absolute irrelevance somehow manages to engulf and erase the lived consequences of neoliberalism run amok in Europe.

Yet I believe Lagarde when she insists: “I have them [the Nigerien children] in my mind all the time…. I also think about all these people in Greece who are trying to escape tax.”

The Eurozone crisis lurches on, and at least one of the main protagonists is preoccupied through it all by a hackneyed scene of deserving Nigerien children. And what a toxic way this is for Lagarde to imagine the Greeks. Never elected by them but nonetheless exercising a measure of control over them, she can conceive of them in two ways only: as not poor enough on the one hand, and as dishonest and selfish on the other. But she’s worrying about the Nigeriens, so that’s all fine.

Pieter Hugo on ‘political correctness’

Pieter Hugo, the critically acclaimed South African photographer, has done an interview with Guernica (H/T Glenna Gordon) in which he seems to be taking issue with criticisms of his work, especially the “Nollywood” series: “It’s quite scary when academics start dictating to artists that they should be politically correct or follow certain rules of behavior — which means we have to start making dishonest work, which means it becomes didactic and propaganda in nature.”

In the United Kingdom (where I’m based), the only people who usually invoke “political correctness” are the right-wing press, clamouring about the censorship they would joyfully impose on their enemies, so we were surprised by Hugo’s accusation.

The direction and details of this outrage are worth close attention. (And we feel compelled to write back since we blogged about the Nollywood series here and here; those posts include comments by our spirited readers.)

Hugo seems to reject the content and nature of academic art criticism. In fact, he dictates that we should reject this relationship. Academics must not impose their readings on artworks.

It is curious that Hugo assumes that attention to his work by academics is hierarchical, as if, by reading his images, we become not only his judge, but his superior. Curious primarily as Hugo’s work seems unusually committed to the idea of forcing his viewers to confront ‘problematic’ images. That he expects us to do so without being critical, judging the intent of the work according to its content and context, is baffling. No one takes a position of superiority in relation to this work, rather we occupy different positions in related fields — chronologically different in time and place: he makes the images, we all ‘read’ them.

The second assumption worth questioning is that the academics who criticise his work wield mysterious — and, in his mind, unnecessary — power. For an artist so riotously successful as Hugo, this is a strange complaint. (Even AIAC, from our lowly blog perch, has thrown flowers in Hugo’s direction.)

The main idea Hugo pushes is that this criticism seeks to force his practice into ‘dishonesty,’ ‘didacticism’ or ‘propaganda’. This charge, in which the work’s audience — and more particularly the professional reader — is singled out as the stultifier of the artistic ego, is remarkable, and deserves closer attention still. Hugo’s anxiety, that criticism might induce the collapse of the integrity of his own work into ‘propaganda’ — presumably from a racially ‘correct’ politics of the image which his work rejects — is telling. For him, presumably, the artist demands the freedom of his (deeply political) images to be read un-politically. Which is to say that he asks us to imagine that his work couldn’t have been different, that it is incapable of change.

In making such a charge, the artist blames his critics for the doubt he feels:

I find that very troublesome, very problematic. It’s taken me a long time to figure out why it affected me so deeply. It really upset me. It was never my intention in any way.

It’s great to hear Hugo is sufficiently attuned to the world that he suffers the lash of the academic tongue with such intensity. Such sensitivity towards criticism surely marks the potential of a great artist. What is odd about the statement above is, however, that Hugo fails to specify what exactly it is that upsets him. Look closely and you’ll see that Hugo’s argument jumps from disagreement (‘troublesome’, ‘problematic’) with the dark forces of political-correctness-mongers to the self-pitying complaint (‘it really upset me’). It seems Hugo is not upset by the fact that people think his work is potentially damaging, but the reactionary idea that the phantasmic armies of ‘political correctness’ are being mobilised against the heroic defenders of Art and Freedom.

It is understandably upsetting to be accused of political incorrectness, but Hugo seems to have come full-circle: first, claiming to have performed a necessary and painful self-scrutiny, then passing over any resultant doubt or anxiety, then returning to criticise his critics with this attack. He has already banished the idea that his work might reflect and sustain desires within himself which others find unappealing; so why should the art, or the artist himself, consider change?

To quote from Theodor Adorno at this point seems provocatively ‘academic’, and so be it. In Minima Moralia, the German philosopher claims that, for writers “[w]hat is let pass as a minute doubt may indicate the objective worthlessness of the whole.” This Promethean task Adorno demands of writers must be no less extensive for photographers making work as sophisticated as Hugo would no doubt like to be. In view of this, the alternative to Hugo’s melancholy, is doubt. Those questions he calls ‘troublesome’, ‘problematic’, ‘affecting’ or ‘upsetting’, should not induce ‘dishonesty’, harmful introspection or vulnerability to making (or becoming) ‘propaganda’. Hugo must have searched for what critics see in his work — he surely wouldn’t have been so upset if he hadn’t — his scrutiny must have been insufficient. Until this artist can locate within his work that which his fiercest critics see, the whole exercise may be worthless.

Africa is a Category

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Last year, BET introduced a category into their annual awards show called “Best International Act: Africa.” I wasn’t that surprised. We’ve been heading down the road towards a mainstream acknowledgement of #InternationalBlack-ness for a while. I chalk it up to the purchasing power and cultural influence that African immigrants in America and England have been able to amass in recent years. Apparently in Houston, the city with America’s largest Nigerian population, they play D’Banj on the local Hip Hop station, and we all know how “Afrobeats” have taken over London. Since BET is based in Washington D.C., a city with the second largest African-born population in the U.S., their inclusion of a permanent Africa category only makes sense.

BET’s history of courting an international black audience began with the creation of BET International, a network aimed at the British market, and aired in Africa and the Middle East. When I was visiting London a few years ago, it felt a little strange to sit with my cousins and watch the music video show “106th and Park” with all its American cultural references, just as if we were in some U.S. city. But my cousins seemed to love it, and perhaps it helped them to feel connected to the real-time “cool” going on in The States, boosting their notions of participation in a global society.

The first visible acknowledgement of explicitly African contemporary popular culture I can remember on BET is the inclusion of Tanzanian MC Gsan into their cypher segment during the 2009 BET Awards. In the following years, this segment has grown to include cyphers separated out by country, the first two getting featured being Ghana and Nigeria. But, rather than a renewed interest in a political pan-Africanism on the part of Americans, this new global black consciousness is propelled by commercialism, and the “growing middle-classes” that are so-often cited these days in stories about Africa and its diaspora. I suppose that taking a cue from MTV Base, and such TV franchises as “Big Brother Africa” (which we promise to give the proper AIAC treatment sometime soon), BET is aware of Africa’s economic shifts, and the potential the network has to take a central role in shaping the cultural consciousness of a global black consumer class.

Having invested in the market of non-U.S. black entertainment, I understand how BET would try and buffer their empire by doing a little cross-oceanic promotion, and adding a few “international” categories into their mainly U.S. focused award show. And perhaps it has worked because artists like Estelle and Tiny Tempah have since been able to find some success in the mainstream Black-American market. Time will only tell if African artists, like last year’s nominees D’Banj and 2face who have both signed with American management companies this past year, will follow suit.

But what are the cultural implications of the success of these individual artists? It’s true that the inclusion of African artists in an awards show is a positive “first step” to open the doors to Africa for American pop-consumers. Too often mainstream media in general tends to obscure black complexity and ignore the different global socio-economic forces that give people of similar skin-tone diverse life experiences. Yet, during the rest of the year (save for a few Caribbean video shows I’ve seen) BET is a company that seems more invested in projecting its U.S.-centric brand outwards rather than investing in a non-American outlook on its networks. So these inclusionary attempts tend to look like a case of an acknowledgement of those that can most “act like us,” than a desire to connect with a diverse international idea of blackness. It’s a daunting task to represent a continent with a billion people and a thousand languages and cultures — trust us, we know. As a mainstream media source that has to sell ads and cater to most common cultural denominators, the network doesn’t seem totally equipped to do that. And, that’s perhaps exactly where this new permanent ‘Africa’ category fails.

To me, the nominees for “Best International Act: Africa” kind of feel like a random drawing of names out of a hat. (Full disclosure: this year I’ve been chosen to vote.) This year the nominees come from across a smattering of different regions and languages: Kenyan rap group Camp Mulla (above), Nigerian rappers Ice Prince and Wizkid, South African songstress Lira, French-Malian rapper Mokobe, and Ghanaian Azonto-rapper Sarkodie. The Nigerians Ice Prince and Wizkid could easily sit alongside Sarkodie, but who’s to say that a fan of Mokobe will know who Camp Mulla is or vice versa. There is no real acknowledgement of difference in audience due to genre, language, region, or even the industry they belong to (and obviously Anglophones have an unfair advantage). But even with their differences all these artists approximate to global notions of blackness that have been forged by the American entertainment industry. They all kind of fit (especially via access to resources as evidenced by their music videos) into American definitions of normal-ness.

Perhaps then, this award functions more as an awareness campaign than any judgement of who is “the best.” But, that somehow just leaves us with more questions as to the cultural meaning of the category. In the wake of the success of Dancehall artists like Sean Paul, why is there still no Caribbean international category? (And why is Rihanna not in it?) And, what if, as This is Africa suggests, African artists were included in their proper categories alongside American artists? Why couldn’t we pit Mokobe against Drake, or P Square against Usher? And while we’re at it, let’s add some Afro-Latino artists in the mix. Then we might start to see more of the kind of collaborations that got Usher jumping on a Bachata song. In the United States, Latinos will very soon dominate in everything from the economy to politics to culture to sport. In this future, it will be interesting to see how networks like BET deal with Latino-ness (as well as how a Latino-oriented network like Univision will deal with American Black-ness). Maybe by keeping their award categories separate BET is able to deflect the latent fear Americans have about immigrants stealing jobs.

The BET Awards air on July 1st, tune in to find out who the winners are.

Mali’s Rebels and their Fans–Suffering and Smiling

Strange bedfellows in the Malian Sahara of late. The Tuareg rebel movements that took control of northern Mali last month looked to have struck a deal over the weekend, only to have it come into question since. The supposedly secular, progressive, and multi-ethnic MNLA shook hands with the Ansar Dine, the Salafist movement that has been more or less playing host to sundry terrorists, criminals and hostage-takers like AQMI, MUJAO, or Boko Haram. It’s tough to say just what this deal means, or how long it will last, but it ought to have put some of the MNLA’s foreign fans in a bind.

What’s the deal? Ansar Dine accepted the idea of creating a new Saharan state, what the Tuareg ethno-nationalists known as the MNLA dub “Azawad.” Abandoning the secularism it had long proclaimed, the MNLA agreed that this new state would be an Islamic one governed by sharia—although they did not specify whether by that they mean the broad and deep tradition of Islamic jurisprudence or the reductive, crude vigilantism of the Ansar Dine. This is a true 360. Not so long ago, the MNLA was talking gender equality and hinting at support for Mali’s proposed family code, which Islamists in Bamako had blocked since 2009.

In short, the agreement came as a surprise, at least to me. The two groups have been jockeying for territory since the collapse of the Malian army in April, and the MNLA has proven to be weaker than its rival. Ansar has controlled the towns and tried to establish its own version of law and order. This has meant punishing thieves—including MNLA fighters—and offering some strong-armed protection in the towns and on the highways, which people appreciated, at least early on. But over the last few weeks Ansar fighters have been busy abusing unveiled women and harassing young men watching television or playing soccer. Three weeks ago, they destroyed a saint’s tomb in Timbuktu, an act that the city’s residents as well as the MNLA roundly condemned. All this provoked protests against them, in Timbuktu and Gao, where the Malian flag—and not the MNLA banner—appeared overnight as graffiti. In short, neither group had great popular support, and relations between them seemed to be going from bad to worse. Many observers expected conflict between the two groups to come out into the open, but instead of a break-up, we got a marriage (now we’ll see how long it lasts).

What gives? The MNLA had been swearing up and down that AQMI and its friends were their worst enemies. In terms of the organization’s image abroad, this is surely still true, but things have changed on the ground, and the MNLA looks to be fracturing. A month ago, the chief of the Tuareg Kel Adagh, Intallah Ag Attaher, spoke in favor of the MNLA’s bid for independence, and he told the Ansar and other foreign fighters to get out of his territory. Last weekend, his son appeared in the pages of the New York Times identified as a leader of Ansar Dine. The turn-about is striking, but it can be explained. Ansar Dine is not only more formidable, but also richer than its new supposed ally. Jihad is expensive, but so is cocaine and some of the other things that get smuggled across the desert. So indeed are the lives of European hostages, for which their governments have paid handsome ransoms to AQMI over the years. Ansar Dine and its allies might not be good company, but they are not broke. On the other hand, the MNLA appears to be stronger in French television studios than on the ground, and apparently the movement can’t pay its fighters. Its leaders seem to have realized that if they could not beat the Salafists, they would have to join them, as many of their men in arms already had.

It’s hard to imagine that the MNLA’s international supporters will feel the same way. Over the last few months, French politicians, Parisian professors, some Tinariwen fans, and various unprincipled fools have been championing the MNLA. This is a motley and ideologically incoherent bunch of partisans, but their support has had real consequences. It’s widely held—and le Figaro has obliquely confirmed—that under ex-president Nicolas Sarkozy, France had been backing the MNLA. Many believe that Sarkozy hoped to play the organization against AQMI to win the release of French hostages before he faced their fellow citizens at the polls. Their liberation would have been a real coup for Sarkozy’s troubled campaign, had it come to pass. But is such a scenario plausible? You bet. Le Petit Nicolas had already launched several military mis-adventures in the Sahel, and he and ATT, Mali’s recently deposed president, had a particularly sour relationship. Sarkozy was never known for his scruples; Mediapart recently published evidence that the late Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi helped finance his 2007 victory, after which Sarkozy tried to sell him nuclear technology. Having since bombed Libya into chaos, Sarkozy could hardly go back to that particular well, but cynical opportunism is nothing new in French African politics. Still, some friends stay true. After he lost his re-election bid, the MNLA made a special point to thank Sarkozy for his support.

So much for the Right, which lost the presidency last month. Marginal players on the Left are in the mix, too. Last week, a Corsican nationalist and member of the Green party invited the MNLA to make its case before the European parliament. That PR stunt backfired when Mali sent its own delegation to make the case for peace and reconciliation. Since then, the Ansar deal. I don’t know much about Corsican nationalism, but I am guessing that legitimizing Ansar Dine’s less-than-progressive politics is not what François Alfonsi or his constituents had in mind.

It gets worse. Over the last few weeks, championing Tuareg ethno-nationalism has meant disregarding serious reports of human rights abuses catalogued, confirmed and analyzed by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International. Take the report of the latter group. It lays out in distressing detail a pattern of rape, pillaging, and indiscriminate killing of civilians and disarmed combatants alike. Some of this is the work of Ansar Dine or unknown aggressors, but some of these crimes were just as clearly the doing of MNLA fighters. The Malian army does not have clean hands either. In February, an indiscriminate bombing near Kidal cost the life of a little girl and grievously wounded several other civilians. In the last few months, the army has killed civilians in North and South alike—some were Tuareg, many were not. According to Amnesty, in at least one instance Malian soldiers even killed one of their own Tuareg comrades. Nobody’s defending the conduct of the Malian armed forces, least of all me. But it is the bare minimum of intellectual honesty for outsiders—especially academics—to attempt to recognize what’s going on on the ground before they dismiss the reports of human rights groups out of hand, and before they speak as partisans of an ethno-nationalist movement whose opportunistic politics they would abhor at home, but enable abroad.

As for the world music fans, what to say? Ignorance isn’t really bliss, but it’s more blissful when other people do the “shufferin’,” and you get to do the “shmilin’.”

The New Yorker covers violence against lesbians in South Africa

Charlayne Hunter-Gault, an African-American reporter based in South Africa, has penned a piece in this week’s New Yorker, titled “Violated Hopes” (subscription required) that covers sexual violence directed against black South African lesbians. Hunter-Gault frames the piece on the experiences of lesbian women in townships in Johannesburg and Cape Town, interviewing several women who have experienced sexual violence at the hands of men. Since 1998, over thirty cases of South African lesbians murdered in connection to their sexual orientation have been documented, many of which included sexual assault at the hands of men ostensibly to ‘cure’ lesbian sexuality, a practice described as ‘corrective rape.’ Following several women activists in organizations including the Ekurhuleni Pride Organising Committee (EPOC) close to Johannesburg, Hunter-Gault explores how citizens daily confront the challenges of living in a country with a culture of violence, acknowledging that South Africa has one of the world’s highest murder and rape statistics.

Hunter-Gault has the unenviable task of describing and decoding the cultural, socio-economic, and historical frameworks that surround anti-lesbian sexual violence in South Africa for a North American audience. She discusses, at length and with sympathy, the often contradictory impulses of post-1994 South Africa. Covering the influence of Christianity’s considerable influence over contemporary politics as well as the conservatism of traditional leaders like Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini (who purportedly announced this January that homosexuality was ‘rotten’) and the problematic sexual rhetoric of President Jacob Zuma’s 2006 rape trial, she describes a society grappling with a plethora of different social and sexual points of reference. She notes that South Africa can boast a constitution that offers some of the most comprehensive protections for the rights of sexual minorities on the planet even as then Deputy-President Zuma declared in 2006 that homosexuality and same-sex marriage were a “disgrace to the nation and to God.”

Hunter-Gault depicts with pathos and sensitivity the anguish of family members who have lost daughters like Zoliswa Nkonyana (whose assailants were finally sentenced this February, six years after her murder) as well as allowing space for the tensions in a society with cultural and religious trends to conservatism.

Yet, the term ‘corrective rape’ is a tricky one, and for Hunter-Gault, as well as for many of us who write about and work in South Africa, the question remains—how do you write critically about a country without running the risk of reifying sexual and racial stereotypes? The term ‘corrective rape’ describes very real violence against a vulnerable population within South Africa, yet it also can reinforce the idea of the ‘black South African lesbian’ as a type, a vulnerable figure at risk from the predations of the poor, patriarchal, black, straight male. In so doing, the discourse of ‘corrective rape’ can shed light on a critical issue within South Africa while reinforcing pre-existing stereotypes of African women needing to be saved from the violent and backward African men. Hunter-Gault largely steers clear of these tropes, but by taking up the term, and using it in her depiction of South African lesbians as at-risk, the problematic potential for reading these women as ultra-abject remains. Fortunately, to ground the article, and to counter such narrow readings of the women depicted, The New Yorker provides a series of twelve pictures of black South African lesbians by artist Zanele Muholi.

Zanele Muholi’s portraits are evocative and affective in their directness. They depict black women in a variety of spaces and settings, gazing directly into the camera in some instances, looking away in others. We only know by the categorization offered to us that these are ‘black South African lesbians,’ and in Muholi’s able hands, these portraits avoid the easy move of depicting these women as the ultimate in abjection, rendered as victims. Rather than point to victimhood or their vulnerability, these portraits show women in daily life, in proud and self-contained poses, directly engaging with the viewer. Muholi’s work offers both a riveting and powerful juxtaposition to Hunter-Gault’s article, re-affirming the women’s position as the center of the discussion, and allowing a measure of agency that the trope of ‘corrective rape’ obscures.

Ultimately, the Hunter-Gault and Muholi pieces demonstrate a clear and pressing social issue as well as the limits on reporting on it. “Violated Hopes” runs the risk of perpetuating tropes of abjection among black lesbians residing in townships, but at the same time demonstrates the possibility of evading such a limited framework through Muholi’s photographic depictions. The two selections ultimately serve to illustrate that at its heart, the discussion concerns the everyday lives, risks, and experiences of black South African lesbians in a country faced with the monumental task of providing for the freedom and security of all of its citizens.

An ode to Benni McCarthy

Guest Post by Mohlomi Maubane

“Why the f**k did he not do that at West Ham!!!” reads a YouTube comment in response to the video clip above featuring Benni McCarthy’s superb free kick in the 2011 Telkom Cup quarterfinal between Orlando Pirates and Moroka Swallows. This is the best goal I have seen in the PSL era: an extraordinary strike in a tense match Pirates were losing by a goal to nil. And while Swallows players were still scratching their heads in bewilderment, he got a second and sealed the match.

West Ham were the last European team McCarthy played for in a chequered 14-year European career whose highlight was a 2004 UEFA Champions League medal with FC Porto under Jose Mourinho. A sometimes controversial character who had endless run-ins with the South African Football Association, Benni set tongues wagging in the local football scene when he decided to return to South Africa. Some critics believed he was over the hill while others knew he still had something to offer. The man himself said he still had a lot of football in him, and with the right service, he would excel. At Orlando Pirates, he found the perfect setting to shine although he would have to do it without Dutch coach Ruud Krol who had just left after three years at the helm.

The Mighty Bucs boasted one of the best squads in the country and were brimming with confidence after winning a treble the previous season. Krol’s long term (at least in South African terms) afforded him the required time to build a team and mould plentiful talent in service of the collective. Team-play became paramount above all else, and prima donnas were booted out. The defense became mean. Opponents learned the hard way that beating Pirates meant playing to the final whistle. For example, in a November league game against Swallows. The Dube Birds looked set for a 1-0 victory, but as my friend Katiso Motaung wryly noted, Pirates managed to turn defense into attack and Jele equalized in the nanoseconds it took the referee to lift the whistle to his mouth to blow full time.

So McCarthy joined a highly motivated and talent-rich team whose only major weakness was the lack of a prolific goal scorer — a problem that went back to the tragic passing away in 2003 of 21-year-old Lesley “Slow Poison” Manyathela. At the beginning of the season, McCarthy promised to score more than 20 goals. While he did not reach that ambitious target, his first touch, his distribution, his intuition, his smarts, and his finishing proved world class. For all the material riches he earned and the medals he won in Europe, watching him in action at the ripe age of 34 left many observers with a lingering feeling that he could have achieved so much more.

That McCarthy managed to adapt so quickly to the South African PSL must also not be taken lightly. PSL football is played at a frantic pace, but the ball actually moves slowly. Players this side of town prefer running with the ball than passing quickly when launching an offensive move. So despite the fast pace, the rhythm is out of tune and many returning football expatriates have been deceived by this factor; running into space expecting an early ball while the midfielder continues to run another 15 or so meters with the ball, which usually leads to the striker being picked up by a defender or caught offside.

But McCarthy always seems to know what to expect. His outstanding displays considered, this Pirates team is by no means a one-man team, and that is perhaps their secret to success. There has always been a player who has risen to the occasion when the need arose. Defenders scored decisive goals when a defeat or loss seemed probable, and the goalkeeper, Moneeb Josephs, turned seemingly guaranteed goals into brilliant saves. Having won consecutive trebles, in the future Bucs’ supporters may well lament underachieving Pirates teams by saying: “If only they were great like the class of 2010/2011 and 2011/2012.”

* This post is republished here with kind permission of Football is Coming Home.

Lesotho votes today

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Guest Post by Zachary Rosen

Perched high above South Africa, Lesotho usually does not receive much international media attention. The little coverage it does garner often assumes readers are completely ignorant and takes great pains to emphasize dismal statistics about rates of HIV/AIDS and poverty. Of course since the last time you heard a story about Lesotho, you’ve surely forgotten how dire it is and must be reminded. In embodying banal, perfunctory reporting, some articles about Lesotho have tried to draw readers in by focusing on the recent visit to the country by the illustrious Archbishop Desmond Tutu, while others have stressed the risk of political violence during and after today’s elections. The Economist deserves special recognition for going to print with the wrong name for the political party of the incumbent Prime Minister. Kind of makes you question their expertise in intelligence. Overall, few articles have attempted to move beyond superficialities and actually delve into the complexities of the local political atmosphere and the implications of the election outcome.

Lesotho politics has been far from mundane as of late. In February of this year, the Prime Minister of Lesotho, Phakalika Mosisili, formed a new political party called the Democratic Congress (DC), taking most members of parliament with him. With the formation of this new party, Mosisili effectively broke away from the party he had led for 15 years, the Lesotho Congress for Democracy (LCD). In his stead, former Minister of Communications, Mothetjoa Metsing, has taken the reins of the LCD. A third major party, the All Basotho Convention (ABC), is another breakaway from the LCD led by veteran politician Tom Thabane. Following their break from LCD, the DC party’s new logo was originally to be a cross, however such allegory upset local religious groups and DC leaders eventually adopted the three-legged cooking pot instead. Further controversy was stoked when the DC party was accused of holding campaign materials owned by the LCD in 19 constituencies across the country including the capital city, Maseru and other urban areas. Lesotho’s Independent Electoral Commission (IEC) responded with a one-week campaign ban for the DC in the 19 offending constituencies, an order that the DC party flat out ignored without consequence.

Despite the controversies, this year’s National Assembly contest has been marked by massive voter engagement with an especially strong showing for young and first time voters. Rallies, famo music performances and to a lesser extent, social media, have been used to generate support for parties and candidates. Key issues that affect the majority of Basotho include: employment, agricultural investment, union wage negotiations, access to education and labor mobility to and from South Africa. Because no party wants to resort to forming a coalition government with their rivals, competition for voters’ allegiance has been rather intense.

While each party is representing itself as the one that can best be trusted by Basotho factory workers, farmers, civil servants and students, it’s evident that other, more clandestine constituents are being courted as well. The incumbent Prime Minister Mosisili in particular has realized the value of partnerships with foreign investors, especially South Africans and Chinese. Kenny Kunene, South Africa’s infamous “Sushi King” (who also invests in mining) has reportedly been a contributor to Mosisili’s political campaign at a time when Lesotho’s diamond mines are exhuming some of the largest stones in the world. Lesotho’s mountainous highlands have long been of strategic interest to the South African government as well, with giant dams supplying essential water to the Johannesburg area for domestic and industrial use. Chinese investors, who operate many of Lesotho’s textile factories, have benefited from being able to keep wages low on Mosisili’s watch, to the vexation of Basotho factory workers. Chinese contractors have been busy with projects across Maseru. Notably, the recently opened Ying Tao restaurant in one of Lesotho’s nicer hotels, the Lesotho Sun, has quickly become a popular meeting place for Basotho elite and Chinese businessmen.

Back outside, in the hills of Lesotho’s countryside, the image of the country’s trademark woven hat, emblazoned on waving cloth of blue white and green has kept watch over the massive campaign rallies of the political parties. At each boisterous event, homage is paid to this conical woven hat and the proud statehood it represents, during the singing of Lesotho’s national anthem, “Lesotho fatse la bontata rona”.

During the first verse of the anthem, the crowds sing with great harmony, that theirs is a country more beautiful than the others, a country to be loved. There is an allusion to the country as a body that gives birth to and nurtures its children. Yet, a question remains – after the elections, which children are to prosper most from the country’s nourishment?

Sesotho:

Lesotho fatse la bontat’a rona,

Har’a mafatse le letle ke lona.

Ke moo re hlahileng,

Ke moo re holileng,

Rea le rata.

English:

Lesotho, land of our Fathers,

You are the most beautiful country of all.

You gave us birth,

In you we are reared

You are dear to us.

* Zachary Rosen is a documentary photographer. His work has been featured on this blog before.

Friday Bonus Music Break

10 songs we’ve been listening to this week. First up — and fresh — Gaël Faye and Tumi (who needs no introduction):

Also from Burundi: Mudibu has a story and a song to share (H/T Karl Steinacker):

The exceptional Y’akoto tells us a bit more about how she goes about writing songs but in between her French words there’s an example too:

Jitsenic (Jitsvinger and Arsenic) dropping verses and truths on South African Bush Radio:

Akala and Selah wrote ‘A Message’:

From Mali, remember Ben Zabo?

From the band named after a Nigerian state capital, Benin City:

Iyadede gives Mark Ronson & The Business, Andre Wyatt and Boy George a makeover:

The Mighty Third Rail — the alternative hip hop trio that combines beat-boxing, poetry, violin and upright bass:

And a full concert by Rachelle Ferrel and George Duke band. Live in Montreux (1997):