Archive: Issue No. 80, April 2004

"Flags are bits of coloured cloth that governments use first to shrink-wrap peoples' minds and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the willing dead. When independent, thinking people (and here I do not include the corporate media) begin to rally under flags, when writers, painters, musicians, film-makers suspend their judgment and blindly yoke their art to the service of the 'Nation', it's time for all of us to sit up and worry." - Arundhati Roy

"...we need to look not only at whether nations have won the right to cast ballots every four or five years but also whether citizens still consider those ballots meaningful." - Naomi Klein

It is customary for artists to perceive themselves as the conscience of society. Indeed there is ample evidence to support this. The work of 'resistance' artists in South Africa and of South African artists living abroad was an important aspect of the struggle for democracy. Sadly though, the opposite is also true. Artists in the past, like the 'embedded journalists' of today, have had the tendency to echo well-established power relations.

In order to highlight the implications of this conversation for artists, I turn to the paintings of J.H. Pierneef, as well as the photographic works Kendell Geers presented at Documenta 11, depicting enclosed, barb-wired and electrified suburban homes.

Both artists represent landscapes without people. There, however, the similarity ends. While Pierneef seeks to reinforce the idea of a depoliticised landscape, Geers locates the landscape securely in the politics of fear. One represents a fantasy of a settler nation, the other the besieged mentality of a new nation. One presents an idealised romanticisation of the landscape, the other takes a realist approach. But we need not fall victim to either abundant optimism or bleak cynicism.

A number of writers, among them Cornell West, Edward Said, Homi K. Bhabha as well as Arundhati Roy, Naomi Klein and others, have addressed the issues of unrealised democracy, just as Geers does. Klein, in particular, has shown that while there is talk of free movement of goods and capital, of a world without borders and the World Wide Web, there are very real and physical barriers restricting the movement of people and excluding them from social institutions and decision-making. Culture-jammers, 'Reclaim The Streets' parties and graffiti artists, amongst others, have shown that public spaces need not be the sole preserve of state-sponsored and corporate messages, that civil society can re-insert itself into the landscape.

In South Africa, voter apathy has set in. Recently the government, in preparation for the election year, has been trying to encourage potential voters to register themselves as such. Many of these are young people who had not yet come of age at the time of the previous elections. As part of the government campaign, former struggle heroes, TV personalities and musicians appeared on our TV screens urging citizens to register. The turnout, however, has been dismal.

Not only has the democratic dispensation failed to live up to pre-1994 expectations but there is also a growing sense that democracy is nothing more than a farce. Freedom is robbed of its deeper meaning so long as the township/ suburb divide remains.

Our democracy's tenth anniversary will coincide with an election year. The ruling ANC government will be hard-pressed to show just how far we have come as a nation since the dark days of Apartheid. No doubt there will be much fanfare, sports events galore, pomp and ceremony and visits by heads of state. Spin doctors in both industry and government departments will be hard at work. Institutions the world over, national and international corporations and governments, even those institutions that once supported (or were acquiescent to) the Apartheid regime, will zealously associate themselves with the democratisation process.

Some news organisations and social commentators will conduct a more honest audit of just how far we have come. But, I fear the din of celebration will overwhelm the more sober-minded and critical remarks. Sadly, the majority of news reports, as well as the range of experts who will be seen on TV screens, will conduct themselves in the manner of 'embedded journalists' during the Iraqi war - they will echo the established power relations.

Naturally, there will also be a venerable cornucopia of cultural events. This is where the artist comes in. The government will spend thousands on various cultural programmes. I wonder how many artists will be sucked in by the vortex of triumphalism.

Having said that, it is to be acknowledged that art in South Africa, especially where black artists are concerned, still operates very much on the level of a survival strategy. Poor and struggling artists cannot be expected to shun the promise of a livelihood in favour of a critical outlook. But artists are not just artists. We are also parents, citizens, critics, friends, intellectuals, members of organisations, teachers and so forth. Where we are compromised in one respect we can be autonomous in others. If we are true to the principle that the measure of a democracy is the depth and scope of participation enjoyed by its citizens, then celebration needs to be tempered by sober reflection. We must also recognise that our democracy does not only mark the end of Apartheid - it is but one chapter amongst many in the unfolding struggle for self-determination that started as a response to the encroachment of foreign power and capital into Africa.

As this nation finds its feet in these turbulent times, several issues are insinuating themselves into our cultural experiences and consciousness. The implications of globalisation, HIV/ AIDS, calls for an African Renaissance and the pervasive talk of 'war on terror' all demand responses from cultural workers. But since white/ black power relations remain intact, such conversations have only just begun. Whenever they are discussed they are coloured by race. One of the most damaging legacies of Apartheid is that it racialised all debate. Issues of representation, class, identity, ideology, participation, the economy and philosophy are viewed and discussed mostly through the prism of race. Relying solely on the politics of identity to support our claims will no longer do.

In this era of so much uncertainty, the field of visual and cultural engagement requires radical expansion. The tools we have inherited from the past will not be sufficient. The dichotomous solutions offered by politicians need not be accepted. The 'Us and Them' syndrome can be overcome. To rephrase Arundhati Roy: when George W. Bush declares "you are either with us or against us", we can say "No thank you, we do not have to choose between any of these mad men bent on reshaping the world in their own image".

One of the concrete things that artists can do is to interrupt the flow of rhetoric spewed by the PR industry and advertising. We can agitate for greater inclusiveness and active participation in cultural institutions while building of new institutions and new relationships. We can, like graffiti artists, exert more influence over the form, content, meanings, purposes of the public spaces we occupy, and of the images we consume.

We can also refuse to be confined to ideological and physical ghettos or to be 'branded'. In short we, in all the different ways we mean 'we', can choose to become the architects of our own dreams.