Suid-Afrikaanse Tydskrif vir Kommunikasieteorie en

Transcription

ISSN 0250±0167
VOL 28 (2) 2002
GEAKKREDITEER/ACCREDITED
Suid-Afrikaanse Tydskrif vir Kommunikasieteorie en -navorsing
South African Journal for Communication Theory and Research
Redakteur/Editor:
Prof Pieter J Fourie (University of South Africa)
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Prof Jean-Claude Burgelman (Free University of Brussels/Institute for Prospective Technological Studies, European Commission, Sevilla, Spain), Prof Jo Bardoel, University of
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of South Africa), Prof Wolfgang Donsbach (Technische UniversitaÈt Dresden, Germany), Prof
Gertruida M du Plooy (University of South Africa), Prof I GraÈbe (University of South Africa),
Prof Gary Mersham (University of Zululand), Prof Eronini R Megwa (Peninsula Technikon,
Cape Town), Prof Jan Servaes (Catholic University of Brussels), Prof T Terblanche (University
of the Free State), Prof Keyan G Tomaselli (Universitry of Natal), Prof Sonja Verwey (Randse
Afrikaanse Universiteit, Johannesburg) Prof Robin E Mansell (University of Sussex, UK)
Mr Simphiwe Mdlalose (Media Institute of South Africa), Mr Stephen Wrottesley (South
African National Editors Forum), Ms Jane Duncan (Freedom of Expression Institute), Ms
Ingrid Jensen (Public Raelations Institute of South Africa), Prof Kobus van Rooyen
(Broadcasting Complaints Commission of South Africa), Mr Eric Nhlapo (Independent
Communications Authority of South Africa), Mr Tim Bester (Association of Advertising
Agencies), Mr Ed Linington (The Press Ombudsman), Mr Tshilidzi Ratshitanga
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# Copyright reserved.
ISSN 0250-0167
VOL 28(2) 2002
GEAKKREDITEER/ACCREDITED
Navorsingsartikels/Research articles
Rethinking peace-building and public relations in Africa
Ransford Antwi
&
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3
Afrikaans as televisietaal in Suid-Afrika: 'n toekomsperspektief
Gertruida du Plooy & Tok Grobler
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8
The odds on casino paintings
Angela Banks and Jeanne van Eeden
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17
Chaos and crisis: the Swiss Bank case study
SonjaVerwey, Andrea Crystal and Ivan Bloom
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28
Kongres en -seminaarreferate/
Conference/seminar papers
Development at any cost: ICTs and people's participation in South
Africa
Simon Burton
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43
Information, communication and transformation: a South African
perspective
Ned Kekana
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54
Transforming the media: a cultural approach
Lynette Steenveld
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63
Aids and political cartoons: a case study
David Wigston
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75
Geaffilieer by die Suider-Afrikaanse Kommunikasievereniging
Affiliated with the Southern African Communication Association
1
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (3±7)
Rethinking peace-building and public relations
practice in Africa
Ransford Antwi*
ABSTRACT
This article deals with the extent to which political
instability has helped to create a negative image of the
African continent and the need to reverse this perception. It
challenges public relations practitioners, as professional
communicators, to include peace building in their social
investment agenda. Further, the article links the role of the
media, especially radio, to this debate. It uses the principles
of proactive public relations as the basis for change. To this
end, the article attempts to delineate specific peace building
activities and guidelines for use by public relations
practitioners.
OPSOMMING
Hierdie artikel handel oor die mate waartoe politieke
onstabiliteit bygedra het tot die skep van 'n negatiewe beeld
van Afrika as kontinent en die behoefte om hierdie persepsie
om te keer. Dit daag openbare skakelbeamptes uit om as
professionele kommunikeerders aktiwiteite vir die opbou
van vrede in hul agenda vir sosiale investering in te sluit.
Hierdie artikel verbind ook die rol van die media, veral die
radio, met hierdie debat. Dit gebruik die beginsels van
proaktiewe openbare skakelwese as die basis van verandering. Ten slotte poog die artikel om spesifieke vredesopbouaktiwiteite en -riglyne vir openbare skakelbeamptes te
ontwikkel.
1. INTRODUCTION
One of the global issues of concern to many African
public relations practitioners is how to create a positive
image of the African continent. In Mersham, Rensburg
and Skinner (1995:199), the authors cite Mike Okereke, Chairperson of the Federation of African Public
Relations Associations (FAPRA), in identifying nine
broad areas that practitioners should address in this
regard. Although he places political instability in
seventh position in his hierarchy, the seriousness of
the issue justifies greater attention. Other issues, such
as respect for human rights, rule of law, democracy and
good governance ± identified by the FAPRA chairperson ± can only gain credence in an atmosphere of
political stability and peace.
This article takes a look at the current state of
political instability on the African continent and
challenges public relations practitioners to make
peace-building an integral part of their professional
practice agenda. It also calls on business to invest in
peacebuilding initiatives for intrinsic returns. The article
further challenges practitioners to use radio's greater
reach as a mass medium to address and disseminate
peace-building initiatives.
Judging from the present state of wars and political
upheavals on the African continent, the issue of peacebuilding is a matter of the utmost importance. Over the
past decade, countries such as Morocco, Liberia, Sierra
Leone, Cote d'Ivoire, Togo, Nigeria, Kenya, Democratic
Republic of the Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, and a host of
others have been, or are still, involved in political
conflict. Closer to South Africa the situation is no
different. Zimbabwe, Angola, the Central African
Republic, Namibia, Mozambique, Lesotho and others
have been òr are still' entangled in destabilising
exercises that negatively impact on their respective
national development programmes.
Destabilisation has ripple effects. Political instability
contaminates the social and economic foundation of a
country. It may have devastating political and social
dimensions. Briefly stated, such national conflicts
thwart efforts geared at providing qualitative improvement in the lives of the people. Development, in effect,
is negatively affected as a result.
Development (whether it is at the individual or
national level) and the practice of democracy cannot
be fully realised and enjoyed in an environment of
hostility and political unrest. Development almost
always implies some level or aspect of change. It
indicates some movement in a certain direction, usually
with positive connotations. The direction and type of
change resulting from development can best be
accommodated within a free and an enabling atmosphere. Obviously where there is a state of instability
and volatility, development is the last thing that comes
to mind.
Unlike the old paradigm of development that placed
an emphasis on economic parameters, the current
perspective on the concept is focused on participation,
the removal of constraints for a more equal and
participatory society. Everett Rogers captures the
importance of participation in development when he
succinctly defines development as à widely participa-
ÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐÐ
* Dr Ransford Antwi is Chair of Applied Communication, Technikon SA, Florida (South Africa). e-mail: [email protected]
3
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002
tory process of social change in a society intended to
bring about both social and material advancement
including greater equality, freedom and other valued
qualities for the majority of the people through their
gaining greater control over their environment' (Rogers, 1983:121). Since participation cannot exclude
communication, the role of the trained, professional
communicator ± including the public relations practitioner ± becomes pertinent. The public relations
practitioner is in a position to help with the national
development agenda where there is relative peace and
tranquillity. Unfortunately, much of Africa lacks these
important attributes, resulting in low investor confidence and economic prosperity. One prerequisite for a
positive continental image is the existence of peace.
This can be achieved through the conspicuous implementation of peace-building initiatives. What is
meant by peace-building?
2 PEACE BUILDING
Peace-building is not the same as peacekeeping and
peacemaking. Whereas peacekeeping is concerned
with the prevention of further violence, peace making
focuses on the forging of a settlement agreement.
In contrast, the Conflict Research Consortium at the
University of Colorado (Conflict Resolution Consortium, 1998) defines peace-building as involving the
establishment in:
normalized relations between ordinary citizens on
both sides of a conflict. Although it can be done at
any time, peace-building efforts usually follow
peacekeeping ... and peacemaking ... Unlike peacekeeping which can be implemented relatively
quickly, and peace-making, which can occur over
a period of a few months, peace-building usually
takes a number of years.
According to the Canadian Peace-building Coordinating Committee (1998), the term èncompasses a
wide range of efforts to increase a society's capacity to
manage conflict without resorting to violence'. A
workable definition of the term peace-building, used
for the purposes of this article, is `the effort to promote
human security in societies marked by conflict'. The
overarching goal of peace-building is to strengthen the
capacity of societies to manage conflict without
violence, as a means to achieving sustainable human
security (Canadian Peace-building Coordinating Committee, 1998).
The following main elements can be identified from
the definition of peace-building:
.
.
.
.
It is an effort.
It promotes human security.
It is aimed at the management of conflict.
The exercise needs to be completed without resorting to violence.
Like all human endeavour, peace-building requires
effort. It comes about only when people, who are
concerned about others and the devastation that comes
in the wake of violence and conflict, decide to take
action. Among those who traditionally invest in such
4
efforts are powerful political leaders and economic
giants. A new addition should be public relations
practitioners in government and business. Public
relations professionals should recognise that it is in
the interest of their communities to have human
security.
The promotion of human security is essential for
social, political and economic growth and development. Whether it is at the level of disarmament, racial
discrimination or resource depletion, the security of the
community must be recognised and safeguarded. This
can be done if and when conflicts are managed
promptly and judiciously. The objective here is to
assign the media of mass communication in Africa with
specific tasks, and to empower them to perform their
assigned tasks effectively and efficiently. It is in doing
so that the media would be able to strengthen the
capacity of society to manage conflicts without
violence (Antwi, c1998:231). Effective management
of conflicts within the parameters of peace-building
implies the successful elimination of violence.
Conflicts may be at communal, industrial or national
levels. It does not matter whether the conflict is tribal or
ethnic fighting (communal conflict), or lockouts and
strikes (industrial conflict) or coups, counter-coups
and civil disobedience (national conflict). The essential
issue is that the normal flow of business, human
interaction, movement, life and living are all negatively
affected. Nevertheless, this article focuses on national
conflict since that has greater implications for the
African continental image. At what point in a conflict
should peace-building initiatives be utilised?
Peace-building initiatives and strategies can be
undertaken before, during or at the end of conflicts.
The pre-conflict or preventative initiative should be the
ultimate aim of the peace builder as it can avert war,
violence and the destruction of life and property, and
put in place an amicable, participatory forum for
discussion and the peaceful resolution of differences.
However, there is still room for peace-building exercises in the unfortunate situation where violence has
already reared its head.
3 PEACE-BUILDING ACTIVITIES
A number of peace-building activities that public
relations practitioners can perform by utilising the
media to sensitise various publics (both internal and
external) can be identified. These activities include, but
are not limited to, conflict resolution, early warning,
physical security, environmental security, economic
reconstruction, human rights, institutional and civil
capacity building, governance and democratic development, human relief and emergency assistance, social
reconstruction, policy development, assessment, and
advocacy. The main question here is the extent to
which these activities can be seen as falling within the
domain of the public relations practitioner's responsibilities.
On the face of it, one can easily dismiss peacebuilding as an issue of no consequence to the public
relations practitioner ± especially if it is beyond direct
organisational concerns. This may appear quite logical
if the practitioner is employed in a sector whose core
business does not deal with any of the activities
mentioned earlier. Arguably, it may become a little bit
problematic if all practitioners are required to infuse
some of the activities into their operations, irrespective
of the nature of their core business.
It is this perspective that is being advocated in this
article. Practitioners whose normal responsibilities do
not fall within the scope of any of the activities are still
being challenged to make their voices heard. They
need to become the catalysts of change in these areas
in their organisations. This viewpoint ties in with the
definition of public relations by the First World
Assembly of Public Relations Associations as cited
in Skinner and von Essen (1999:3): `Public relations is
the art and social science of analysing trends,
predicting their consequences, counseling organisations' leaders and implementing planned programmes
of action which will serve both the organisation and
the public interest.' Flowing from the premise that the
provision of services in the interest of the public is
central to public relations practice, it is appropriate to
state that communities, organisations and individuals
tend to benefit by working in a stable and peaceful
environment. Public relations professionals can contribute to the creation and sustenance of such an
environment by counselling their organisational leaders. They can educate communities and organisations that are not currently involved in peace-building
exercises to acknowledge the benefits that can
directly or indirectly accrue to them by promoting
peaceful coexistence. Their participation can conveniently be part of what Lubbe and Puth (1994:180)
describe as ènlightened involvement of material
benefit to both the company and the community'.
However, in this case the emphasis should not be on
material benefit, but rather on intrinsic benefit.
Akin to the aforementioned rationale for businesses
to engage in social responsibility initiatives beyond
their traditional domain is what Toffler (1973) calls
``post, super industrial society''. This requires that
businesses, while seeking profit, must also seek and
provide social goals and services that are ends in
themselves ± not a means to an end. In other words,
there are other legitimate objectives besides profitmaking that businesses must endeavour to set and
achieve for themselves. It is not too much to ask
government and industry to collaborate in the pursuit
of peace. In this way, public relations practitioners can
demonstrate their commitment to the service of
others. That type of commitment should transcend
parochial, personal and economic gains (Ehling,
c1992:442). Peace-building is one avenue for the
practitioner to engage and extend efforts aimed at
addressing social responsibility challenges.
Peace-building activities are discussed under three
headings: pre-conflict, mid-conflict and post-conflict
situations. This is to avoid a situation where all the
peace-building activities are lumped together. Placing
the activities under defined headings helps practitioners to acquaint themselves with specific activities
that can be conducted at various stages and times.
However, it must be stressed that some of the
activities can belong to two or all three areas
simultaneously.
3.1 Pre-conflict activities
Pre-conflict activities may include, but are not limited
to, the following: early warning, conflict resolution,
physical and personal security, institutional and civil
capacity building, and environmental security.
The traditional role of public relations practitioners
in conflict management has, by and large, been limited
to the industrial sector. Not much social investment
has gone into ethnic and national conflict resolution.
These are seen as belonging to the realm of traditional
leaders, chiefs, kings, politicians and the like. Since
conflicts have tremendous negative effects on businesses and industrial organisations, it is appropriate
that public relations practitioners will become involved in resolving such conflicts before the hostilities
transcend into violent situations with their attendant
catastrophic human and material costs.
Practitioners can use their communication skills to
create an atmosphere of trust and understanding
where these are lacking. Many conflict situations are
the product of misunderstanding and uncertainty or
the unavailability of relevant information upon which
to base an informed decision. Public relations practitioners can use their skills in establishing a body of
knowledge to provide comprehensive, objective information and thereby avoid being used as propaganda vehicles by partisan elements. By identifying
the relevant publics and creating greater understanding about issues, public relations practitioners can
sensitise their audiences to alternative ways of dealing
with problems. It is better to take measures that would
avoid a violent confrontation than to be drawn into
quenching a destructive conflagration. This process
involves the possession of a sense of anticipation.
Public relations practitioners should adopt a proactive approach in this respect. They should help their
organisations to change `whatever market conditions,
labour laws, and public opinions that impede the
achievement of corporate goals and objectives and
CSI [corporate social investment] initiatives'. Although some authors advocate the use of interactive
response and accommodative mode (Mersham, Rensburg & Skinner. 1995; Sithe, 1982) to offset accusations of manipulation and to allow dialogue, a
proactive approach is preferable in instances where
other approaches may bear little or no fruit. The use of
a proactive response is justified on the principle that
the end justifies the means. In taking this approach,
public relations practitioners should endeavour to find
synergy between their corporate goals and societal
objectives. Harry Oppenheimer put it right when he
stated that:
Just as a large company seeks to conserve its
assets and ensure its future survival by reinvesting
part of its profits, so it should seek to conserve and
improve the social environment in which it does
business in the hope that it will be able to continue
to do business in the future, preferably in a better
5
environment. (Cited in Mersham, Rensburg &
Skinner. 1995:96)
Like journalists, the era for public relations practitioners acting as third parties to history should be
over. They can provide early warning sensitivity
initiatives. It is expected of practitioners to anticipate
important issues through their research capabilities
and to prepare to deal with such issues to safeguard
their interests and those of their communities and
organisations. If the findings of the practitioners'
intelligence-gathering efforts show imminent tribal
or national conflict, it should become an issue of
concern. Wherever possible, practitioners should help
to resolve such volatile situations amicably.
For example, it is true that the unfair distribution of
factors of production in a society accounts for a large
number of the insurgent situations in Africa. Mersham
and Skinner (2001:136±7) put it bluntly by saying
that `harsh realities such as insufficient food, clothing,
medicine, etc, give conflict a desperate quality'. Being
proactive in dealing with community members
through empowerment exercises can go a long way
towards averting discontentment and animosity between opposing sides. All too often, industry closes its
eyes to the plight of the poor surrounding communities. It rather invests lavishly in donations to sporting
and leisure events that usually benefit the middle and
affluent sectors of the population.
As a preventative measure, public relations practitioners should be sensitive to the inequitable distribution of the factors of production within their
immediate vicinities. Inequity or unfair distribution of
social and economic benefits is always a potential for
igniting unrest. Public relations practitioners, in
performing their management functions, can help
develop plans of actions to mitigate the economic
disparities in their communities.
3.2 Mid-conflict activities
In the unfortunate event of a conflict emerging, public
relations practitioners have to speak out. For example,
they can speak out in support of human rights. The
evils associated with the use of child combatants must
not escape their attention and condemnation. Countries such as the Democratic Republic of Congo,
Angola, and Sierra Leone are reported to be using
thousands of children on their battlefronts. These
children constitute the countries' potential labour
force. Public relations practitioners cannot remain
indifferent to these atrocities.
Conscious of the potential power of public opinion
on decision making, there is a need for practitioners to
galvanise and nurture international public opinion
against national conflicts and violence. Public relations practitioners must voice their concerns, and
support decisions and initiatives meant to end inhuman and senseless acts, such as child abuse and the
reckless disregard for human life and property.
The need for involvement in humanitarian relief and
emergency assistance has to be stressed. There should
6
be a constant call for the elimination of hostility and
prejudice.
3.3 Post-conflict activities
At the end of a conflict, public relations practitioners
can help to bring about a degree of normality and
speed up the qualitative improvement in the lives of all
affected people. The emphasis at this level should
include social and economic reconstruction, training,
governance and democratic development, institutional capacity building, physical security, policy
development, assessment and advocacy.
Public relations practitioners, as managers, can
influence the initiation of programmes in some of
the broad areas identified earlier. They can also take a
strong position in advocating measures to prevent a
repetition of the conflict. According to the Search for
Common Ground (2001), prevention works well in
two situations. The first is before violence erupts. The
second situation is ìn a post-violence state like
Angola, where the impulse to bloodshed has diminished'.
4 PROMOTION OF PEACE BUILDING
ACTIVITIES BY RADIO
Public relations practitioners can promote peacebuilding by employing public relations tools in making
their targets aware of the need to build and secure
peace. Practitioners are likely to hear in advance about
potentially conflicting situations through their research findings.
The use of appropriate channels of communication
to reach an identified public is essential for the
successful outcome of any communication effort. In
a sense, communication can be described as providing a supportive role in addressing issues of peace and
development. Peace-building initiatives can be conceived, developed and implemented at either the
micro or macro levels. Nevertheless, it is important
that in respect of a national intervention, the vast
majority of people must feel the impact of the
initiatives. Reaching the majority of the people calls
for the use of the mass media. Various aspects of
peace-building activities can be communicated via
radio to different people for their consumption and
adoption.
Radio is a powerful channel for conveying messages and ideas to the broad masses of people in both
the developed and the developing world (de Fossard,
1997). The potential of radio for post-conflict healing
has been tested elsewhere and proven successful. The
Talking Drum Studios in Liberia and Sierra Leone are
good examples. These conflict-resolution media are
used as tools in finding solutions to problem situations by fostering a new national and sub-regional
dialogue (Search for Common Ground, 2001).
Another example is Studio Ijambo in Bujumbura,
Burundi. It is a radio production unit that specialises
in conflict resolution based on radio programmes.
When the radio production studio was started in 1995
after the genocide, it had one basic aim. It was
determined to use the airwaves to counter rumour
mongering `which contributed enormously to the
violence of that time' (Rolt, 2001). In a write-up on
the studio's performance, the Director, Francis Rolt,
stated that àll the programmes produced by Studio
Ijambo are intended to bring people together, and to
promote peace and reconciliation' (Rolt, 2001). It is
not surprising that in a survey conducted in May 2000
the findings showed `that 82% of respondents
indicated that Studio Ijambo's programmes help with
reconciliation a lot' (Rolt, 2001).
Public relations practitioners should be able to
associate themselves and their organisations with
initiatives such as Studio Ijambo. By doing so, they
will provide true expression to the concept of social
change. Communication for social change involves à
process of public and private dialogue through which
people define who they are, what they want, and how
they can get it. It is a positive change in peoples' lives
± as they themselves define such change' (Waisbord,
2001). Radio is an important catalyst for qualitative
change. Using radio not only to avert rumour
mongering but also to provide alternative routes for
development can enhance the contributions an
organisation can make in terms of corporate social
investment.
5 CONCLUSION
The prevailing perception that the handling of peacebuilding initiatives belongs to other professionals, but
obviously not public relations practitioners, is challenged. Peace-building must be the concern of
everyone ± more especially, professional communicators who can use their skills in developing an
atmosphere of trust and reconciliation in hitherto
conflict-infested communities. One of the channels
that can be used to carry out peace-building initiatives
before, during and after violent conflict situations is
radio. Public relations practitioners have to include
peace-building activities in their social responsibility
programmes, and also help to promote a new national
and sub-regional dialogue. This is one effective way
to help salvage the damaging image of the African
continent.
REFERENCES
Antwi, R. c1998. Journalism and democracy in post independent Lesotho: the challenge ahead. Lesotho Law Journal: A Journal
of Law and Development, 10(2).
Canadian Peacebuilding Coordinating Committee. 1998. What activities constitute peacebuilding?. Available [o]
http://www.cpcc.ottawa.on.ca/chart-e.htm.
Conflict Research Consortium. 1998. Peacebuilding ± Official efforts of UN and regional organizations. International online
training program on intractable conflict [o]. University of Colorado. Available: [o]
http://www.colorado.edu/conflict/peace/treatment/peacebld.htm
De Fossard, E. 1997. How to write a radio serial drama for social development: A script writer's manual. Baltimore, MD: Johns
Hopkins School of Public Health, Center for Communication Programs.
Ehling, W P. c1992. Public relations, education and professionalism. In Excellence in public relations and communication
management, ed. J E Grundling. Hillsdales, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Lubbe, B A and Puth, G. eds. 1994. Public relations in South Africa: A management reader. Durban: Butterworths.
Mersham, G M, Rensburg, R S and Skinner, J C. 1995. Public relations, development and social investment: A Southern African
perspective. Pretoria: Van Schaik.
Mersham, G M and Skinner, J C. 2001. New insights into business and organisational communication. Sandown: Heinemann.
Rogers, E. 1983. Diffusion of innovations. 3rd edition. New York: Free Press.
Rolt, F. 2001. Creative-radio: Global learn day five ± radio broadcasters. Available: [o]
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/creative.radio. Accessed on 25 June 2001.
Search for Common Ground. 2001. The story of search for common ground. Available: [o]
http://www.sfcg.org/aboutus.cfm?locus=Our_Story. Accessed on 6 July 2001.
Sethi, P. 1982. Corporate political activism. California Management Review, Spring, 17(3):58±64.
Skinner, J C. and von Essen, L. 1999. Handbook of public relations. 5th edition. Johannesburg: International Thomson.
Toffler, A. 1973. Future shock. London: Pan.
Waisbord, S. 2001. Family tree of theories, methodologies and strategies in development communication: Convergences and
differences. The Communication Initiative. [o] Available: http://www.comminit.com/stsi/viocomm/sld-2881.html
7
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002(8±17)
Afrikaans as televisietaal in Suid-Afrika:
'n toekomsperspektief
Gertruida du Plooy* en Tok Grobler**
ABSTRACT
This article deals with an investigation into the need for
Afrikaans television programmes among Afrikaans viewers in the changing media environment in South Africa.
Viewers' needs were researched by means of a case study
among grade 10 learners in Pretoria. The uses and
gratifications approach serves as the theoretical framework of the study and a number of variables affecting
respondents' need with regard to Afrikaans television
programmes are investigated. These variables are television driven (supply, content and structure of Afrikaans
programmes), technology driven (new media technologies
such as satellite television and the Internet) and viewer
driven (socio-cultural, personal and demographic factors).
The study finds a relation between these variables and the
need for Afrikaans programmes among respondents. The
supply, content and structure of Afrikaans programmes do
not gratify respondents' needs. New media technologies
broaden respondents' socio-cultural horizons, enabling
them to watch, interpret, associate with, and enjoy English
programmes comfortably. The changing socio-cultural and
demographic environment is liberalising traditional Afrikaans views on television use and is exposing an increasing
number of Afrikaans viewers to global television. Within
this context the need for Afrikaans programmes is
diminishing, placing a question mark over the future of
Afrikaans as a television language.
OPSOMMING
Hierdie artikel handel oor 'n ondersoek na die behoeftes
van Afrikaanse televisiekykers aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme te midde van die veranderinge wat sedert
demokratisering aan die Suid-Afrikaanse medialandskap
plaasgevind het. Kykerbehoeftes word ondersoek by wyse
van 'n gevallestudie onder Afrikaanse graad 10-leerders in
Pretoria. Die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering dien as
teoretiese onderbou vir die studie en die invloed van 'n
aantal veranderlikes op respondente se behoeftes aan
Afrikaanse programme word ondersoek. Hierdie veranderlikes is televisiegerig (inhoud, aanbod en struktuur van
Afrikaanse programme), tegnologiegerig (nuwe media-
tegnologieeÈ soos satelliettelevisie en die Internet) en
kykergerig (sosio-kulturele, persoonlike en demografiese
faktore). Die studie bevind dat daar 'n verband is tussen
hierdie veranderlikes en respondente se behoeftes aan
Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Dit blyk dat die aanbod,
inhoud en struktuur van Afrikaanse programme nie
respondente se behoeftes bevredig nie. Nuwe mediategnologieeÈ verbreed respondente se sosio-kulturele horisonne
sodat hulle gemaklik na programme in Engels kyk, dit
vertolk, hulle daarmee assosieer en genot daaruit put. Te
midde van die impak van globalisering en die toenemende
aanbod van oorsese programme in Engels, neem die
behoefte aan Afrikaanse programme af en hang daar 'n
vraagteken oor die toekoms van Afrikaans as televisietaal.
1 INLEIDING
Die demokratiseringsproses wat vroeg in die 1990's in
Suid-Afrika begin het, het benewens politieke en
maatskaplike hervorming, ook onherroeplike veranderinge aan die elektroniese medialandskap meegebring. As deel van die omvorming van die uitsaaiwese
is die televisie-uitsaaikanale van die South African
Broadcasting Corporation (SABC) in Februarie 1996
herstruktureer om te verseker dat die korporasie, as
nasionale uitsaaier, in die keuse van uitsaaitale en,
-styl en programinhoud, die demografiese werklikhede van 'n demokratiese Suid-Afrika reflekteer. 'n
Regstreekse uitvloeisel van die transformasieproses
van die SABC was dat Afrikaans sy posisie as een van
die twee dominante uitsaaitale verloor het. Afrikaanse
programme word (saam met programme in die
Sothotale en Engels) sedertdien net op SABC2
uitgesaai. Afrikaans bevind sigself in 2002 te midde
van Engels en die Sotho- en Ngunitale as net nog een
van die boublokke van 'n meertalige Suid-Afrikaanse
televisiediens.
Afrikaans speel ook 'n relatief mindere rol in die
uitbreiding van televisie in Suid-Afrika sedert 1996.
Na die aanvang van die PanAmSat satellietdiens in
1995, stel MultiChoice (wat ook die bestuursmaatskappy van die betaalkanaal M-Net is), 'n digitale
betaal-satelliettelevisiediens, bekend as DStv, met 28
* Gertruida du Plooy is a professor in the Department of Communication Science, University of South Africa, (Unisa) P O Box
392, Pretoria 0003. Telephone: 012-429 6661. Fax: 012-429 3346. e-mail: [email protected].
** Johannes (Tok) Grobler is a Master's graduate of the Department of Communication Science, University of South Africa,
(Unisa) P O Box 2296, Brooklyn Square 0075. Telephone: 012-430 2310 (office); 012-460 0136 (home); 082 375 0200
(mobile). Fax: 012-342 1900. e-mail: [email protected].
8
televisie- en 46 oudiokanale in Suid-Afrika in. In 1998
word die eerste private televisielisensie aan Midi, 'n
konsortium van hoofsaaklik swart bemagtigingsgroepe en die Amerikaanse vermaaklikheidsreus,
Warner Brothers, toegeken. Suid-Afrika se eerste
gratis televisiekanaal, e.tv, begin in Oktober 1998
met uitsendings. Hierdie nuwe uitsaaiers saai hoofsaaklik in Engels uit. 'n Afrikaanse televisiekanaal,
bekend as kykNET, word teen die einde van 1999 as
deel van DStv ingestel. As gevolg van die relatiewe
hoeÈ koste van satelliettelevisie in Suid-Afrika, is
kykNET egter ontoeganklik vir die meerderheid Afrikaanssprekende huishoudings.
Die posisie van Afrikaans in hierdie mediatransformasieproses kom sedert die vroeeÈ negentigs telkens
onder die soeklig en is by tye die onderwerp van
heftige debat. Een van die belangrikste uitvloeisels
van hierdie debat is 'n ope brief wat 'n groep
vooraanstaande Afrikaanse skrywers, akademici en
kunstenaars in November 1999 aan president Thabo
Mbeki skryf.
In dieÂ brief word 'n Handves vir Minderheidsregte
bepleit om aan Afrikaanssprekendes groter inspraak te
gee ten opsigte van onder meer Afrikaans in die
elektroniese media:
Kulturele minderhede het die reg om self beheer uit
te oefen oor die (veral elektroniese) media wat
hulle bedien, anders kan hulle aan 'n soort kulturele
neo-kolonialisme blootgestel word (Barnard, et al.
1999:25).
Vrae wat met reg na aanleiding van hierdie oproep
gevra kan word is: is die Afrikaanssprekende nie reeds
besig om mede-eienaarskap te aanvaar van hierdie
sogenaamde kulturele neo-kolonisasieproses van die
media nie? Waar staan Afrikaanssprekende televisiekykers in hierdie herskepte Suid-Afrikaanse medialandskap? Het dieÂ kykers nog behoeftes aan
Afrikaanse televisieprogramme? Word Afrikaanssprekendes nie reeds beklee met die nuwe wysheid van
weÃreldburgerskap wat deur satelliettelevisie en die
Internet in die moderne huis ingedra word nie? Word
hierdie kykers, wat in die kuberweÃreld van die een-entwintigste eeu leef, se behoeftes aan Afrikaanse
televisieprogramme nie moontlik reeds in 'n groot
mate deur programme in Engels bevredig nie? DieÂ
artikel poog om antwoorde op die vrae te vind aan die
hand van 'n studie om Afrikaanssprekendes se
behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme te bepaal. Die studie is in Augustus 2000 by wyse van 'n
gevallestudie onder Afrikaanse graad 10-leerders in
Pretoria uitgevoer.
2 TAAL, KULTUUR EN TELEVISIEGEBRUIK
Om kykers se behoeftes te bevredig moet televisieprogramme so gestruktureer, ingeklee en aangebied word
dat kykers dit gemaklik kan verstaan, hulle daarmee
kan versoen en dit genotvol vind. Die kyker moet
vertroud wees met die tekens, simbole en konvensies
waarmee die televisieteks geskep word, sowel as die
sosiale en kulturele konteks waarbinne dit gesitueer is
(Messaris 1997:135). Om Afrikaanssprekende kykers
se behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme binne
die postapartheid sosiale en kultuuromgewing in
Suid-Afrika te ondersoek, is dit nodig om vas te stel
watter rol taal, die sosiale omgewing en kultuur speel
in die genoegdoening wat hierdie kykers uit televisietekste put.
Bestaan, as produk of voorstelling van denke, kan
net betekenis kry en uitdrukking vind in taal. Taal gee
inhoud aan die mens se kognitiewe verwysingsraamwerk. Gedagtes en taal is interafhanklik ± die een kan
nie sonder die ander bestaan nie. Die menslike weÃreld
word inderdaad deur taal begrens, aldus Sapir
(Mandelbaum 1960:15). Sonder taal sou denke
waarskynlik een of ander tabula rasa wees. Die
denkproses sou soos 'n rekenaar sonder programmatuur wees ± sonder inhoud, struktuur of vermoeÈgewende onderbou om inligting te prosesseer,
betekenis te skep en uitdrukking daaraan te gee.
Whorf (Carroll 1958:252) voer aan dat alle denke
gestruktureer word deur die reeÈls van taal. Die mens
dink inderdaad in taal ± of dit Engels, Sanskrit of
Chinees is ± en val onbewustelik by die kultuurgebaseerde reeÈls daarvan in.
Taal gee nie net inhoud en struktuur aan die mens
se denke nie ± dit klee in der waarheid die totale
sosiale werklikheid in. Om deel te word van 'n sosiale
groep moet die indiwidu toepaslike kennis van die
kommunikatiewe gedrag van daardie bepaalde groep
aanleer en vertoon. Deur hierdie proses van sosialisering word 'n bepaalde sosiale werklikheid geskep
(Leeds-Hurwitz 1989:51). Sapir (Mandelbaum
1960:68±9) beskryf die verband tussen taal en die
sosiale werklikheid soÂ:
Language is a guide to ``social reality'' ... We see
and hear and otherwise experience very largely as
we do because the language habits of our community predispose certain choices of interpretation.
Afrikaans as taal baken dus ook die sosiale grense
vir Afrikaanssprekendes af. Soos alle ander taalgroepe,
word Afrikaanssprekendes se kennis en ervaring van
die sosiale werklikheid verkry deur 'n proses van
`mediasie deur taal' (Sonderling 1996:89). Hierdie
mediasie is 'n komplekse multidimensionele proses.
Dit gaan hier nie bloot oor taal as 'n sisteem van
betekenissimbole nie, maar ook oor die sosiale
werklikheidsperspektief wat gevorm word deur die
taal wat Afrikaanssprekendes as kinders aanleer, aldus
Odendaal (1990:41). Dit spreek vanself dat die
waardes en ander geestesgoedere, wat kollektief die
sosiale werklikheid van Afrikaanssprekendes rig, ook
in die taal ingebed is. Afrikaanssprekendes ontwikkel
aan die hand van hulle sosiale situering 'n gemeenskaplike betekenisraamwerk waarbinne betekenisvolle
kommunikatiewe aktiwiteite, inluitende televisiekyk,
plaasvind.
Wat is die verhouding tussen taal, die sosiale
werklikheid en kultuur Conradie, et al. (1994:46)
beskryf taal as die belangrikste begrensing van kultuur
en etnisiteit en, per definisie, as 'n sleutelkatalisator in
sosiale mobilisasie. Kultuur is die eksponent van die
vele fasette van die sosiale werklikheid. Moulder
9
(1992:17±18) voer aan dat kultuur vir die indiwidu
geskep word deur mense uit die sosiale omgewing.
Kultuur verleen egter nie net 'n eiesoortige identiteit
aan 'n gemeenskap nie, maar skep ook die boublokke
vir gedeelde betekenis. Billington, et al. (1991:5) voer
aan dat die mens as sosiale wese moeilik begryp sou
kon word sonder insig in sy of haar kultuurgefundeerde sosialiseringsprosesse, oortuigings, waardes
en gewoontes.
Menslike aktiwiteite soos televisiekyk sou eweneens kwalik sinvol buite die sosiaal-kulturele konteks
kon plaasvind. Sou die kyker sonder kennis van die
sosio-kulturele konteks, waarbinne die televisieboodskap gekonstrueer word, dieselfde genot uit
televisiekyk geput het? Hoeveel van die visuele, klanken ander kodes waaruit die teks bestaan sou individueel of kollektief vir kykers betekenis en vermaaklikheidswaarde heÃ? Sonder kennis van die kultuurkodes
wat in elke televisieteks ingebed is, verskraal die insig
en genot van televisiekyk. Sonder herkenning van die
kodes van die teks, insluitende die kultuurgerigte
kodes soos verhaal-, tematiese en kodes van mise-ensceÁne, sou televisiekyk vir die kyker omtrent ewe
sinvol wees as vir 'n toeskouer wat 'n sportgebeurtenis
probeer volg sonder enige kennis van die reeÈls van die
spel.
2.1 Die Afrikaanse televisiekyker, globalisering
en 'n nuwe weÃreldkultuur
Servaes en Lie (1996:44) onderskei 'n interne sowel
as 'n eksterne kultuurgerigtheid by alle mense. Interne
gerigtheid dui op die assosiasie na binne met 'n eie
kultuur, of subkultuur, of elemente daarvan. Eksterne
gerigtheid, daarenteen, dui op 'n assosiasie met ander
kulture. Die koms van die rekenaar, die Internet, ehandel en satellietkommunikasie maak alles deel uit
van McLuhan (1995:335) se `seamless web of
electronics' wat die moderne weÃreld uiteindelik in 'n
enkele weÃrelddorp of global village omskep. Die
globale elektroniese inligtingsnet plaas die moderne
mens by wyse van die satelliet, televisie, radio en die
rekenaar letterlik in die woonkamer van ander volke en
kulture. Dit is veral die Amerikaanse kultuur wat op dieÂ
wyse in woonkamers die weÃreld oor ingedra word. So
word 'n magtige Amerikaanse populeÃre kultuurindustrie geskep wat 'n groot invloed op die moderne
globale lewenstyl uitoefen en die beweging na 'n
sogenaamde weÃreldkultuur momentum gee. Biltereyst
(1995:5) verwys in dieÂ verband na Amerikaanse
kultuurimperialisme en die sogenaamde `McDonaldisering' en `Cocacolanisering' van (Europese) lewenstyle en waardes.
Na die aanvang van die demokratiseringsproses in
Suid-Afrika en die daaropvolgende herstrukturering
van die SABC se televisiekanale, kry die inhoudelike
inkleding van Suid-Afrikaanse televisie ook 'n meer
universele liberale waarde-onderbou. Soos 'n nuwe
sosiale en kultuurorde in Suid-Afrika tot stand kom
waarin menseregte, rekonsiliasie en bemagtiging
populeÃre kultuurwaarde kry, begin Afrikaanssprekendes om aktief aan hierdie nuwe Suid-Afrikanisme
te help skep. Hierdie proses kry verder momentum
10
deur die instelling van satelliettelevisie in Suid-Afrika
wat Afrikaanssprekendes blootstel aan die globale
akkulturasieproses. Afrikaanssprekendes word toenemend burgers van McLuhan (1995:5) se weÃrelddorp.
Teen hierdie agtergrond ontstaan die vraag: hoe ver
het die grense van taal en kultuurherkenbaarheid vir
Afrikaanssprekendes binne die nuwe nasionale en
globale konteks verskuif? Val die herkenbare in die
televisieteks vir Afrikaanse televisiekykers steeds binne
die raamwerk van die Afrikaanse kultuur van die jare
tagtigs en vroeeÈ negentigs? Of het die kultuurhorisonne van hierdie kykers reeds so verbreed dat hulle
ewe veel of meer genoegdoening uit plaaslike maar
veral internasionale Engelse televisieprogramme put?
3 TEORETIESE ONDERBOU VAN DIE STUDIE
Die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering dien as
teoretiese onderbou vir die studie. Die benadering is
'n aanvaarde teoretiese raamwerk wat vir meer as 'n
halfeeu reeds die studie van mediagehore, -gebruik en
-effekte onderleÃ. Die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering word vanuit verskillende oorde gekritiseer as
sou dit funksionalisties, a-teoreties, toutologies en
metodologies verdag wees, met 'n gebrekkige fokus
op die aktiewe ontvanger en die rol van die televisieteks in die kyker se interaktiewe omgang met
televisie (Roe 1996:82±3). Alhoewel die benadering
tekortskiet aan 'n stewige teoretiese model van al die
elemente van die kommunikasieproses, insluitende
boodskapstudies en die vertolking van boodskappe
(Pitout 1990:37), is hedendaagse kykernavorsing
toenemend daarop gerig om die navorsingsagenda
van die benadering uit te brei om hierdie elemente in
te sluit.
3.1 Aannames van die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering
Lin (1993:224) som die belangrikste aannames van
die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering soÂ op:
The uses and gratifications perspective assumes
that media use behaviours are motivated by certain
internal needs and specific gratifications-seeking
motives. With such self-fashioned intentions,
audiences are able to dictate their content selection
and use patterns for the purposes of fulfilling their
gratifications expectations.
Die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering berus dus
op die volgende hoofaannames:
. Kykers het behoeftes wat deur televisie bevredig
kan word (gratifications sought).
. Kykers gaan doelbewus en aktief-selekterend met
die televisieteks om en is dus aktiewe deelnemers
aan die kykproses.
. Kykers het die persepsie dat hulle behoeftes aan
televisie deur die medium bevredig (kan) word
(gratifications obtained). Indien hierdie behoeftes
nie bevredig word nie, wend kykers hulle na ander
media of programme om hulle behoeftes te bevreig.
3.2 Veranderlikes wat kykers se bevredigings
kan beõÈ nvloed
Binne die konteks van die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering kan 'n aantal veranderlikes geõÈ dentifiseer
word wat die bevredigings wat kykers van televisie
verwag en verkry (kan) beõÈ nvloed, te wete:
. programaanbod, -inhoud en struktuur
. nuwe mediategnologieeÈ soos satelliettelevisie en
die Internet wat die kyker in 'n nuwe globale
verwysingsraamwerk plaas met betrekking tot mediagebruik
. persoonlike, demografiese en sosio-kulturele faktore.
Hierdie veranderlikes beõÈ nvloed al drie hoofaannames van die gebruike- en bevredigingsbenadering,
te wete behoeftes, aktiewe kyk en die persepsie van
bevredigings verkry. Die veranderlikes vorm die
grondslag vir 'n gebruike- en bevredigingsmodel wat
voorgestel word vir die bestudering van Afrikaanse
kykers se behoeftes aan en die bevredigings wat
hierdie kykers van televisiegebruik verwag en verkry.
3.3 Televisiegebruike en -bevredigingsmodel
vir Afrikaanse televisie-kykers
Die televisiegebruike- en -bevredigingsmodel (Figuur
1) fokus op die oorsaaklike verband tussen televisie-,
nuwe mediategnologie- en kykergedrewe veranderlikes en die bevredigings wat Afrikaanse televisiekykers van televisiegebruik verwag en verkry. VanweeÈ
demokratisering het beide die sosiale en medialandskap in Suid-Afrika sedert die vroeeÈ negentigs drasties
verander met verreikende gevolge vir veral Afrikaanssprekendes. Bogenoemde veranderlikes wat Afrikaanssprekende kykers se bevredigings uit televisie
rig, word ook deur die postapartheid sosiale en mediaomvorming in Suid-Afrika geraak en beõÈ nvloed dus as
sodanig ook die Afrikaanse kyker se interaksie met
televisie. Die eerste lineeÃre vlak van die konseptuele
navorsingsmodel omskryf hierdie veranderlikes as die
aanbod, inhoud en struktuur van programme (televisiegedrewe veranderlikes), satelliettelevisie en die
Internet (globalisering), en persoonlike, demografiese
en sosio-kulturele faktore (kykergedrewe veranderlikes).
Hierdie veranderlikes rig interaktief die kyker se
behoeftes aan televisie (inligting, vermaak, ontvlugting en sosialisering, of enige kombinasie daarvan),
die bevredigings verwag uit televisiegebruik en die
proses van aktiewe televisiekyk om bevredigings te
verkry. Laasgenoemde drie elemente van die konseptuele navorsingsmodel (kykerbehoeftes, verwagte
bevredigings en aktiewe kyk) verteenwoordig die
grondliggende aannames van die gebruike- en
bevredigings-benadering. Behoeftes en bevredigings
verwag, is by wyse van aktiewe kyk oorsaaklik verbind
met die kyker se persepsie van bevredigings verkry.
Soos in Levy en Windahl (1984:59) se model, is
televisiegebruik by wyse van aktiewe kyk hier 'n
tussentredende veranderlike in die kyker se proses om
die verwagte bevredigings uit televisiegebruik te
verkry. Die multidimensionele aard van aktiewe kyk
word op die konseptuele navorsingsmodel aangetoon.
Die aktiewe kykerkonstruk bestaan uit doelgerigte
en selektiewe betrokkenheid ± engagement ± by televisie in die voorblootstelling-, blootstelling- en nablootstellingsfases van televisiekyk.
Kwalitatiewe kyker/teksinteraksie geskied by wyse
van seleksie van die televisie-inhoud, kognitiewe
vertolking/betekenistoeskrywing aan en affektiewe
betrokkenheid by die teks, sowel as reaktiewe gedrag.
Geen faset van hierdie interaksie is beperk tot enigeen
van bogenoemde drie tydsfases van televisiekyk nie.
So byvoorbeeld kan kykers selekterend optree in die
blootstellingsfase wanneer hulle van televisiekanale
verwissel, omdat hulle nie die bevredigings wat hulle
verwag uit interaksie met 'n bepaalde kanaal verkry
nie.
4 NAVORSINGSMETODOLOGIE VIR DIE
STUDIE
4.1 Afbakening van die studie
Die studie is uitgevoer aan die hand van 'n gevallestudie van die behoeftes van Afrikaanse graad 10leerders in Pretoria aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Die deursneestudie is beperk tot data wat
in Augustus 2000 ingesamel is. Die populasie bestaan
uit Afrikaanssprekende graad 10-leerders aan die 26
Afrikaanse hoeÈrskole in Pretoria. Die ontledingseenheid bestaan uit individuele Afrikaanssprekende graad
10-leerders van twee klasse per skool uit 10 van die
26 skole wat die populasie uitmaak.
4.2 Doelstellings van die navorsing
Sover vasgestel kan word is geen spesifieke empiriese
navorsing oor (of 'n behoeftesbepaling van) Afrikaanse kykers se behoeftes aan Afrikaanse programme
gedoen nie. 'n Nuwe terrein word dus betree. Die
navorsingsdoelstelling was hoofsaaklik verkennend
van aard omdat die doelwit van die studie was om
vas te stel of respondente behoeftes aan Afrikaanse
televisieprogramme het, en indien wel, wat die aard
van die behoeftes is. Benewens die verkennende aard
van die navorsingsdoelstelling, vertoon dit ook beskrywende en verklarende kenmerke.
4.3 Data-insamelingsmetode
Opnamenavorsing by wyse van selfgeadministreerde
vraelyste in groepsverband is as data-insamelingsmetode vir die gevallestudie gekies. Onder die belangrikste oorwegings vir dieÂ keuse is die kostedoeltreffende asook die relevante en kontemporeÃre aard
van opnamenavorsing.
4.4 Probleemstelling
Die probleemstelling fokus op die verband tussen
respondente se behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme en 'n reeks veranderlikes wat moontlik 'n
invloed daarop mag heÃ, soos televisie-inhoud en
-struktuur, nuwe mediategnologieeÈ en persoonlike
faktore.
11
Globalisering
Kykers
Programaanbod -inhoud en
-struktuur
Satelliettelevisie
Internet
Persoonlike faktore
Demografiese faktore
~
~
~
Taal en sosiaal-kulturele konteks
~
!
3 "
Behoeftes aan televisie (inligting, vermaak, ontvlugting, sosialisering)
3 "
!
3 "
Aktiewe televisiekyk
3 "
!
!3 "
3 "!
Verwagte bevrediging
!
Tydfases van kyk
Blootstelling
Voorblootstelling
Nablootstelling
!
Seleksie
Kognitief vertolking/betekenistoeskrywing
Reaktiewe gedrag
!
Persepsie van bevrediging verkry (al dan nie)
Figuur 1
Televisiegebruike en -bevredigingsmodel
Affektief Ð betrokkenheid
12
Televisie
4.5 Hoofprobleem
Die hoofprobleem van die studie is: Het respondente
behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme, en
indien wel, watter rol speel die volgende veranderlikes
in die bevredigings wat hulle as kykers verwag en
verkry:
. programaanbod, -inhoud en -struktuur van televisie
. taal en die sosio-kulturele konteks van mediagebruik
. nuwe mediategnologieeÈ soos satelliettelevisie en
die Internet
. persoonlike en demografiese faktore.
Die hoofprobleem was te omvattend en kompleks
om in geheel hanteer te word en is afgebreek in
kleiner, onafhanklik navorsbare eenhede of subprobleme wat regstreeks gekoppel is aan die aanbieding
en vertolking van die navorsingsdata.
4.6 Populasie van die gevallestudie
Die populasie bestaan uit graad 10-leerders van die 26
hoeÈrskole in Pretoria waar onderrig hoofsaaklik in
Afrikaans geskied.
4.7 Steekproef
In dieÂ gevallestudie is van 'n eenvoudige ewekansige
trossteekproef gebruik gemaak sodat elke lid van die
populasie dus 'n gelyke kans gehad het om vir die
steekproef geselekteer te word. Die loterymetode is
gebruik om skole en groepe se individuele respondente ewekansig te selekteer.
Die volgende skole is getrek (in volgorde van
trekking): Prosperitus SekondeÃre Skool (een), HoeÈrskool Garsfontein (twee), HoeÈrskool Pretoria-Wes
(drie), HoeÈrskool Hendrik Verwoerd (vier), HoeÈrskool
Oos-Moot (vyf), HoeÈr Tegniese Skool Pretoria Tuine
(ses), Afrikaanse HoeÈr Seunskool (sewe), HoeÈrskool
Waterkloof (agt), HoeÈrskool FH Odendaal (nege) en
Afrikaanse HoeÈr Meisieskool (tien).
4.8 Meetinstrument
Om die verlangde data oor die navorsingsprobleem te
bekom is 'n vraelys as meetinstrument ontwikkel. Die
meetinstrument het bestaan uit 38 items waarvan 30
geslote items met responsopsies was en 8 oopitems.
Van die 38 items was 15 feitelik en gemik op die
versameling van demografiese data, terwyl die res
meningsitems was wat houdings en voorkeure van
respondente ten opsigte van televisiekyk gemeet het.
4.9 Dataverwerking en -vertolking
4.9.1 Statistiese verwerkingsmetodiek
Data is eerstens gestruktureer, frekwensies is bepaal
en resultate in die vorm van persentasies en kumulatiewe persentasies uitgedruk. Sleutelveranderlikes is
kruistabuleer en kruistabelle is gebruik om twee of
meer kategoriese veranderlikes se frekwensies of
persentasies gelyktydig te bereken. Wilcoxon se
rangsomtoetse (SPSS 1993:379) is ingespan om die
verskil tussen veranderlikes te vergelyk en ooreenstemmingsontleding is as statistiese prosedure gebruik om gemiddelde range gelyktydig met mekaar te
vergelyk (SPSS 1994:51). Faktorontleding is aangewend om die interkorrelasies in stelle veranderlikes te
meet. Chi-kwadraat, 'n nieparametriese statistiese
toets, is gebruik om onafhanklikheid tussen kategoriese veranderlikes te bepaal. Data, wat met behulp van
die oopitems ingesamel is, is deur drie kodeerders
vertolk en 'n tussenvertolkersbetroubaarheidstoets is
gedoen om te verseker dat die vertolking van die data
betroubaar is.
4.9.2 Aanbieding van resultate
. Demografiese profiel van die steekproef
Data oor die demografiese profiel van die steekproef
dui daarop dat van die 572 respondente 50.3 persent
seuns en 49.6 persent meisies is. (Twee respondente
het geen geslag aangedui nie.) Van die respondente
dui 86.7 persent aan dat hulle toegang het tot die
kanale van die SABC, 81.6 persent tot e.tv, 58.9
persent tot M-Net en 28.8 persent tot DStv.
Altesame 35.5 persent van die respondente het
toegang tot die Internet. Van dieÂ groep maak 65.8
persent minstens een maal per week van die Internet
gebruik. Meer as die helfte van die respondente
(50.9%) kyk tussen agt en sewentien uur per week
televisie, terwyl 17.9 persent meer as agtien uur per
week kyk. Bykans een uit elke 4 respondente (24%)
besit 'n eie televisiestel.
. Resultate van die studie per subprobleem
Subprobleem 1 het die invloed van programaanbod,
-inhoud en -struktuur op respondente se behoeftes
aan Afrikaanse programme ondersoek. Dit blyk dat
postapartheid televisieprogramaanbod, -inhoud en struktuur betekenisvol verband hou met respondente
se behoeftes aan en bevredigings verwag en verkry uit
Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Respondente dui aan
dat hulle 'n oorweldigende voorkeur vir Engelse
televisieprogramme het. Altesame 83.5 persent van
die respondente verkies Engelse programme bo
Afrikaanse programme. Altesame 83.3 persent verkies
oorsese bo plaaslike programme en 69.3 persent van
die respondente verkies televisie-advertensies in Engels. Die Afrikaanse programme op SABC2 staan
meeste respondente nie aan nie en net 8 persent dui
dit as hulle gunstelingkanaal aan. Die rede hiervoor is
waarskynlik onder meer die gebrek aan jeugprogramme op die Afrikaanse televisiespyskaart. Die data
toon voorts dat SABC2, ondanks 'n gebrekkige
aanbod van markgerigte programme vir respondente,
'n betekenisvolle rol speel in respondente se keuse van
televisieprogramme. Weens beperkte toegang en
gebrekkige kanaallojaliteit speel kykNET nie 'n betekenisvolle rol in respondente se behoeftes aan
Afrikaanse televisieprogramme nie. Skedulering van
programme binne die onderskeie kanale is vir baie
respondente 'n probleem en meer as 70 persent voer
aan dat hulle soms gunstelingprogramme misloop
weens die skedulering daarvan.
13
Die data toon 'n betekenisvolle verband tussen taal
en respondente se voorkeure vir bepaalde televisiegenres. Die meeste genres, en veral vermaak soos films
en sepies, word in Engels of in meertalige formaat
verkies, terwyl die helfte van die respondente aandui
dat hulle feitelike genres, soos nuus, in Afrikaans
verkies. Voorts is die bemarking van televisieprogramme van betekenisvolle rigtinggewende belang in
respondente se keuse van Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Bykans driekwart van die respondente voer
aan dat televisieprogramreklame 'n invloed op hulle
programkeuses het.
Subprobleem 2 het die uitwerking van nuwe
mediategnologieeÈ (soos satelliettelevisie en die Internet), en gepaardgaande daarmee globalisering, op
respondente se behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme ondersoek. Die Internet speel geen betekenisvolle rol in respondente se behoeftes aan, en
bevredigings verwag en verkry uit Afrikaanse programme nie. Respondente met toegang tot die Internet
vertoon bykans identiese voorkeure vir televisie as die
totale steekproef. So vertoon albei groepe 'n hoeÈ
voorkeur vir internasionale Engelse programme, terwyl
die voorkeur vir Afrikaanse programme laag is ± so min
as 15.9 persent. Internasionale televisieprogramme, wat
onder meer per satelliet uitgesaai word, speel egter 'n
belangrike rol in respondente se behoeftes, of gebrek
daaraan, met betrekking tot Afrikaanse televisieprogramme.
Subprobleem 3 het gefokus op die rol wat taal,
kultuur en sosiale posisionering speel in respondente se
behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Taal het
'n betekenisvolle invloed op respondente se programkeuses. Respondente dui aan dat hulle spesifieke
taalvoorkeure vir bepaalde televisiegenres het en dat
hulle keuse van programme hoofsaaklik gerig word
deur die aanbod van programme op kanale wat
hoofsaaklik oorsese programme in Engels uitsaai.
Benewens taal, speel kultuur ook 'n betekenisvolle rol
in respondente se behoeftes aan, en die bevredigings
wat hulle van Afrikaanse televisie verwag en verkry,
omdat die kultuurherkenbare regstreeks verband hou
met die genot wat respondente uit televisie put.
VanweeÈ die beskikbaarheid en toeganklikheid van
oorsese programme in Engels, verbreed respondente
hulle kultuurhorisonne om genot uit hierdie programme
te put. Voorts is televisiekyk 'n sosiale aktiwiteit en
word kykpatrone grootliks volgens sosiale situering
gerig. Die meerderheid respondente gaan kompromieeÈ
met gesinslede en portuurgroepe aan met betrekking
tot programkeuses en kyktye. Respondente gebruik ook
televisieprogramme in die algemeen as gespreksonderwerp in sosiale omgang.
Subprobleem 4 ondersoek die invloed van persoonlike en demografiese faktore op respondente se
behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Die
probleem word ondersoek aan die hand van die invloed
van demografiese faktore soos die sosio-ekonomiese
omstandighede van respondente, koshuisinwoning
sowel as geslag. Vir die doel van die studie is skole,
wat vir die steekproef geselekteer is, volgens sosioekonomiese profiel in drie groepe saamgegroepeer. Die
drie groepe is vergelyk met betrekking tot voorkeure vir
14
televisietaal, programme en kanale. Hoe hoeÈr die
welvaartsvlak, hoe laer blyk die voorkeur vir Afrikaanse
programme te wees.
Koshuisinwoning as demografiese veranderlike het
nie 'n betekenisvolle invloed op respondente se
behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisie nie. Die genrevoorkeure tussen die geslagte verskil betekenisvol met
betrekking tot sepies, sport, nuus en tydskrifprogramme. Die studie toon voorts dat persoonlike
oorwegings soos individuele smaak ook 'n betekenisvolle rol speel in respondente se behoeftes aan en
bevredigings verwag en verkry uit Afrikaanse televisieprogramme.
5 GEVOLGTREKKINGS
Op grond van die bogenoemde bevindinge word die
gevolgtrekkings, wat vervolgens bespreek word, gemaak:
5.1 Afrikaanse televisieprogramme bevredig nie
behoeftes nie
Respondente verkry nie die verwagte bevredigings uit
die aanbod, inhoud en struktuur van Afrikaanse
televisieprogramme nie. Alhoewel byna 87 persent
van die respondente toegang tot die Afrikaanse
programme van SABC2 het, is die kanaal se posisionering in die televisiemark egter van so 'n aard dat dit
hoofsaaklik op volwasse kykers fokus. Byna 78 persent
van die respondente kyk na die Afrikaanse programme
op SABC2, maar die kykprofiel is gevarieerd met 'n lae
frekwensie, aldus die responsdata. SABC2 bied relatief
min aan respondente met betrekking tot markgerigte
Afrikaanse jeugvermaak ± vandaar waarskynlik die
versoeke vir Afrikaanse weergawes van gewilde jeugprogramme soos Dawsons Creek. SABC2 is die sesde
gewildste kanaal onder respondente en word deur net
minder as 10 persent van die respondente as hulle
voorkeurkanaal aangedui. Dit is betekenisvol dat
SABC3 en SABC1 gewilder as SABC2 onder respondente is. Die redes hiervoor moet waarskynlik gesoek
word in die aanbod van jeug-, musiek en vermaaklikheidsprogramme op eersgenoemde kanale.
VanweeÈ respondente se beperkte toegang tot kykNET (minder as een uit elke drie respondente het
toegang), speel die kanaal nie 'n betekenisvolle rol in
die bevredigings wat respondente verwag en verkry uit
die televisieprogramme van dieÂ kanaal nie. Voorts hou
die programme van kykNET skynbaar ook nie 'n hoeÈ
mate van bevrediging in vir respondente wat wel
toegang daartoe het nie.
Die persentasie respondente met 'n kykfrekwensie
van vier maal en meer per week is ongeveer 7 persent.
In orde van voorkeur is kykNET die dertiende gewildste
kanaal onder respondente en minder as 1 persent van
die respondente dui die kanaal as hulle voorkeurkeuse
aan.
5.2 Behoeftes aan Afrikaanse televisie deur
Engelse programme bevredig
Respondente maak grootliks op Engelse, en veral
internasionale televisieprogramme staat om die bevre-
digings te verkry wat hulle van Afrikaanse televisieprogramme verwag. Minder as een uit ses respondente dui 'n voorkeur vir Afrikaanse televisieprogramme aan. Respondente steun op M-Net, DStv
en in 'n mindere mate op SABC1, SABC3 en e.tv vir
veral televisievermaak. Twee derdes van die respondente dui aan dat die belangrikste redes waarom hulle
televisie kyk, vermaak en ontspanning is.
Die resultate van die gevallestudie toon 'n verband
tussen sosio-ekonomiese faktore en die voorkeur (of
gebrek daaraan) vir Afrikaanse programme. Die
gevallestudie bevind byvoorbeeld dat die behoeftes
aan Afrikaanse programme deurlopend afneem soos
wat gemeenskappe sosio-ekonomies beter daaraan
toe word. Soos die Afrikaanse gemeenskap welvarender word, kry meer gesinne toegang tot betaal- en
satelliettelevisie en brei die aanbod van oorsese
Engelse vermaak voortdurend uit. Hierby moet in ag
geneem word dat respondente se behoeftes aan
Afrikaanse vermaaklikheidsprogramme ten tye van
die gevallestudie reeds onbeduidend klein was (net
3% respondente verkies films, 7% sepies, 7.4%
speurdramas en 9.3% komedies in Afrikaans). Die
tafel is dus gedek vir betaal- en satelliettelevisie om 'n
al groter rol te speel in die bevrediging van respondente se behoeftes aan televisievermaak. Selfs al sou
die inhoud en aanbod van Afrikaanse programme
meer jeuggerig word, is dit te betwyfel of respondente
se voorkeure ten opsigte van Afrikaanse televisieprogramme dramaties sal verander.
Hierdie gevolgtrekking lyk op die oog af teenstrydig
met respondente se siening oor Afrikaans op televisie.
Die helfte van die respondente meen dat daar nie
genoeg Afrikaanse televisieprogramme uitgesaai word
nie, terwyl meer as 60 persent ten gunste van nog 'n
Afrikaanse televisiekanaal is.
Die voorkeur wat deur respondente aangedui word
vir nog 'n Afrikaanse televisiekanaal en meer Afrikaanse programme kan moontlik aan lojaliteitsoorwegings teenoor Afrikaans toegeskryf word. Respondente mag glo dat dit goed vir die voortbestaan van
Afrikaans is as daar Afrikaanse programme op televisie
is ± solank ouer mense daarna kyk! Die rol en invloed
van die openbare debat rondom die posisie van
Afrikaans in 'n demokratiese Suid-Afrika moet nie
onderskat word nie. Die posisie van Afrikaans in skole,
universiteite en op televisie staan sentraal in hierdie
debat en mag by respondente die indruk skep dat
Afrikaans 'n taal onder beleg is. Die aanduiding van 'n
voorkeur vir meer Afrikaanse programme is waarskynlik in die lig hiervan reaktiewe gedrag, eerder as 'n
aanduiding van 'n eerlike begeerte om meer Afrikaanse programme op televisie te sien.
5.3 Sosiale werklikheid is veeltalig en multikultureel
Respondente se sosiale werklikheid is veeltalig en
multikultureel en hulle verkies die inkleding van
televisie ook so. Demokratisering het 'n gees van
liberaliserende denke en 'n nuwe sosiale orde gebring
waarin die skerp historiese kleur-, sosiale, taal- en
godsdienstige grense van die verlede plek maak vir 'n
nuwe multikulturele gemeenskap. Hierdie nuwe orde,
en die konstitusionele waardes wat dit onderleÃ, skep
die nuwe werklikheid wat op televisie gereflekteer
word. Terselfdertyd verteenwoordig dit 'n nuwe
sosiale verwysingsraamwerk waaruit kykers die televisieteks vertolk. Die koms van die demokrasie het
plaasgevind te midde van die groeiende impak van
globalisering wat grootliks bygedra het tot die
bevestiging en versterking van hierdie nuwe verruimde sosio-kulturele werklikheid.
5.4 Belangriker rol van nuwe mediategnologieeÈ en globalisering
Globalisering speel 'n toenemend belangriker rol in
respondente se behoeftes en bevredigings verwag en
verkry uit Afrikaanse televisieprogramme (of die
afname daaraan). Alhoewel respondente se blootstelling aan die twee belangrikste eksponente van
globalisering, die Internet en satelliettelevisie beperk is
(onderskeidelik 35% en 28% respondente het toegang
daartoe), is respondente reeds besig om hulle sosiokulturele horisonne ver buite die tradisioneel Afrikaanse te verskuif.
Die gemaklike interaksie van respondente met
oorsese televisieprogramme in Engels, dui op 'n hoeÈ
vlak van kultuurherkenbaarheid in die teks en hulle
suksesvolle herposisionering in die weÃreld van globale
kultuur. Globalisering is 'n onomkeerbare natuurlike
proses wat die grense van die mens se sosiale
werklikheid voortdurend herdefinieer. Net soos die
mens, sy weÃreld en sy media vandag radikaal anders
daar uitsien as drie dekades gelede, sal die toekoms
ewe ingrypend verskil van die hede. Respondente,
met hulle groeiende voorkeur vir globale vermaak, is
nie slagoffers van globalisasie nie, maar is bloot deel
van 'n natuurlike evolusieproses.
As die uitbreiding in die Internet en die groei in die
aanbod van elektroniese en satelliettelevisievermaak
die afgelope dekade enigsins 'n norm is, sal respondente se blootstelling aan hierdie nuwe mediategnologieeÈ met rasse skrede toeneem en sal hulle
behoeftes ten opsigte van televisie toenemend op
die globale afgestem wees. Die onaantreklikheid van
Afrikaanse televisieprogramme vir respondente moet
ook teen hierdie agtergrond gesien word. Uitsaaiers
vertoon nie noodwendig 'n gebrek aan insig in, of
onvermoeÈ om respondente se behoeftes met 'n
uitgebreide repertoire van Afrikaanse programme te
bevredig nie. Dit gaan hier eerder oor respondente se
behoeftes wat te midde van die omvattende kollektiewe aanbod van internasionale programme besig is
om die aanbod van die tradisionele Afrikaanse televisiespyskaart te ontgroei. Die toedrag van sake kan
binne 'n geslag of twee die einde van Afrikaans as
televisietaal beteken. Soos vele ander kleiner tale, loop
Afrikaans die gevaar om uiteindelik die knie voor
globalisering te buig.
5.5 Negatiewe persepsie van Afrikaanse
televisieprogramme
Sommige respondente het 'n negatiewe persepsie van
Afrikaanse televisieprogramme. Dit is die gevolgtrek15
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (16±21)
king wat gemaak kan word uit die lae voorkeur vir
Afrikaanse programme en die redes daarvoor wat deur
respondente aangevoer word soos:
.
.
.
.
.
.
Èngels is 'n meer geskikte televisietaal.'
Àfrikaanse programme is oninteressant en vervelig'
Àfrikaans klink nie goed op televisie nie.'
Àfrikaanse programme is te melodramaties.'
`Dit is outydse programme vir ouer mense.'
Àfrikaanse programme is op 'n laer standaard as
Engelse programme.'
. Àfrikaanse humor is swak. Dit is nie snaaks op 'n
intelligente manier nie.'
Die Afrikaanse televisiebedryf in Suid-Afrika kan nie
in omvang vergelyk word met die van Amerika of
Europa nie. Dit beteken egter nie dat die kwaliteit van
Afrikaanse programme noodwendig swakker is nie ±
laasgenoemde is 'n persepsie wat uitsaaiers in die
bemarking van Afrikaanse televisieprogramme sal
moet aanspreek.
6 SAMEVATTING
Die bevindinge van die studie dui daarop net sowat
15 persent van die respondente Afrikaanse programme bo Engelse programme verkies. Respondente
se voorkeure vir oorsese televisieprogramme (teenoor
plaaslike programme) volg dieselfde patroon. Daar is
egter steeds 'n behoefte aan Afrikaanse televisieprogramme onder Afrikaanssprekendes, maar die behoefte word nie deur die programme van SABC2
bevredig nie. Hierdie behoefte aan Afrikaanse programme is inderdaad besig om te kwyn en Engelse
programme neem in gewildheid toe onder Afrikaanssprekendes weens die uitbreiding van die internasionale televisiespyskaart deur satelliettelevisie. Daarbenewens verbreed globalisering die kultuurhorisonne
van Afrikaanssprekendes sodat hierdie kykers gemaklik met oorsese programme omgaan en genot daaruit
put. Vanuit welke perspektief daar ook al na die
aangeleentheid gekyk word, blyk dit dat daar 'n
vraagteken oor die toekoms van Afrikaans as televisietaal hang.
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16
THE ODDS ON CASINO PAINTINGS
Angela Banks* and Jeane van Eeden**
ABSTRACT
This article considers the role of decorative paintings in
two South African casinos, namely Carnival City and
Caesars Gauteng. It suggests that entertainment landscapes such as casinos are subject to subtle and elaborate
mechanisms whereby the creation of seductive milieus reinforces the myth of leisure and paradigms of hedonistic
consumption. The use of strategies such as themeing is
examined in order to propose that entertainment is
increasingly predicated on the imperative of creating
exotic, fantastic, escapist or extraordinary experiences ±
but at a price. The contentious issue of the need for a more
authentic so-called African identity in casino developments
is also broached. The authors point out that within the
postmodern cultural hypermarket of unlimited choices,
eclecticism and pastiche, cultures and histories have the
potential to be reduced to themes and stereotypes, and can
be endlessly re-duplicated in simulacral fantasy landscapes. This production of escapist consumer spaces is
important, because the social role of casinos in South
Africa has undergone radical changes during the last few
years ± far from being places of adult entertainment, they
now embrace diverse forms of leisure activities for
families.
1 INTRODUCTION
Up to the 1990s, cultural analysts had few problems in
assessing and describing the South African leisure
and entertainment industry. The South African Broadcasting Corporation (SABC) ruled the broadcast
media, and was only seriously challenged in its
monopoly by the founding of M-Net in 1990. Nu
Metro, owned by Mega, and Ster Kinekor, controlled
by Kersaf through Interleisure, ruled the film industry.
In addition, Kersaf largely controlled the gambling
industry through another of its subsidiaries, Sun
International South Africa (SISA) (Crotty 1997:18).
But since 1994, when the African National Congress
(ANC) came to power, there has been an explosion of
opportunity in the entertainment industry and a more
competitive trading environment has developed, with
more choices being offered to consumers (Magliolo
1998:31). The ban on casinos in South Africa was
lifted by the new constitution in 1996,1 and 40 casino
licences were allocated to the country (Haffajee
1997:1). Most casino complexes are currently estimated to be worth approximately R1 billion each,
which indicates the magnitude of capital that casino
developers are dealing with (Dover 2000:1). Whereas
older casinos such as Sun City (built in 1979)
operated as destination resorts centred primarily
around gambling, South African casinos today are
usually part of larger entertainment complexes that
comprise shopping malls, cinemas and hotels. These
new casinos are almost invariably closer to metropolitan areas, which means they have the capacity to
attract large audiences and, consequently, have had to
adapt themselves to family-orientated notions of
leisure.
This article suggests that paintings in casinos,
masquerading as interior deÂcor, are not only vehicles
for a casino's theme, but also communicate the
underlying myth of leisure, which is increasingly
predicated on specific ideological underpinnings
concerning consumption (cf Wolf 1999). By collaborating with architecture, deÂcor, advertising and
marketing, casino paintings help construct and maintain a utopian mini-world of gratification and enjoyment. This article proposes that original2 paintings are
used as an ideological device to lend a Benjaminian3
aura of authenticity to a world of artifice, helping to
seduce consumer±spectators to participate in a simulated world of leisure and pleasure. It is perhaps
possible to suggest that casino paintings even lend
notional class, respectability and cultural capital to
these liminal environments, in effect sanctioning the
act of gambling.4 This supposition is not based on the
postulation of a hypothesis that can be proved or
disproved conclusively within the confines of this
article; it is rather submitted that the stylistic and
contentual conservatism of casino paintings intimates
that they are used as a shorthand system to evoke
culturally specific notions of luxury and escapism.
Enlisting art in the act of visual persuasion is certainly
not new, and using art to create fantasy landscapes
indeed features prominently in today's global entertainment economy.5
This article examines some of the issues related to
paintings in Gauteng casinos. Carnival City Casino,
situated in Brakpan, was the first Gauteng casino to
open its doors, in October 1999. The second was
* Angela Banks is a Masters student in the Department of Visual Arts, University of Pretoria, PRETORIA, 0002, South Africa,
email: [email protected].
** Jeanne van Eeden is a senior lecturer in the Department of Visual Arts, University of Pretoria, PRETORIA, 0002, South Africa,
e-mail: [email protected].
17
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (18±28)
Gold Reef City Casino in Booyens Reserve, which
was launched in March 2000. Caesars Gauteng
opened in Kempton Park in October 2000, and
Montecasino in Fourways started trading in December
2000. The Emerald Safari Resort's temporary casino,
which was opened in December 1998, was expanded
into a second phase and was opened in Vanderbijlpark in May 2001. The sixth and remaining Gauteng
licence is, according to Dover (2000:1), still subject to
a legal dispute.
This article pays attention to two representative
casinos, namely Carnival City and Caesars Gauteng,
primarily because they house the largest number of
paintings by South African artists. Moreover, because
these two casinos were constructed by competing
developers, the target audience,6 architecture, themes,
interior deÂcor and paintings are quite different in style,
if not in function. Although paintings are found
almost everywhere in these developments, the focus
here is on those in the main casino areas. Those in the
conference centres, shopping zones and hotels are
disregarded; and so are the three-dimensional artworks. This article does not tackle the thorny issue of
the commissioning procedure for the paintings, which
is a topic that deserves to be investigated elsewhere,
since the market-orientated entertainment industry
indubitably has an impact on how artists are perceived
in South Africa. Similarly, the response of consumers
to the artworks is not assessed; the validity of certain
assumptions that reveal the hegemonic impulses
underlying a form of art that contributes to the
mystique of the entertainment environment are
mooted. The authors subscribe to Bourdieu's
(1993:11) belief that a work can only be fully
understood if it is reinserted in the system of social
relations that sustains it. This does not imply a
rejection of aesthetic or formal properties, but rather
establishes an analysis based on the artwork's position in relation to the context in which it exists.
This article consequently points out a few of the
issues that inform the genre of casino art,7 which
indeed deserve further discursive investigation. Particular attention is paid to the issue of themeing, a
design strategy that instrumentalises space in a
specific manner in accordance with the demand that
thematic unity be applied to an entertainment space.
This article suggests that casino paintings do not
function merely as surface deÂcor, but that they
contribute to, and sustain, the myth of leisure. This
myth underpins an elaborate ideologically inflected
mode of cultural production that promotes consumption. This inquiry therefore proposes a similarity
between the paintings encountered in diverse casinos
in terms of their visual message and purpose. Some of
the general ideological assertions projected by casinos
are examined in order to imply that they reflect the
notion that entertainment is increasingly being rooted
in fantasy and escapism.8 The following account is
both descriptive and speculative, and is reductive in
that it refers to peripheral issues such as casinos and
social upliftment,9 identity, history, cultural capital,
kitsch and taste only in passing. An exploration of
casino paintings leads the authors to the conclusion
18
that the visual embodiment of the myth of leisure is
pivotal in ultimately understanding some of the
reasons for the inclusion of paintings in casinos.
Before investigating the function and style of casino
paintings, it is necessary to provide more detail
regarding the casinos at Carnival City and Caesars
Gauteng. Carnival City Casino, where bells and
buzzers, lights and laughter are the order of the day,
was built by Afrisun Consortium, but is now owned
and operated by Sun International. It was the first
casino to open in Gauteng, and is situated in the heart
of Johannesburg's East Rand on what used to be
Brakpan's drive-in site (Dover 2000:3). During the
day, its brightly coloured circus tent architecture lifts
the site out of the bleak Brakpan landscape, while at
night its Teflon domes illuminate the sky. Carnival City
has become very popular in the last two years and has
received several accolades, including the Professional
Management Review's Golden Arrow Award, when it
was voted the leader in the field of entertainment
venues in Gauteng. Carnival City has become the
venue of choice for a wide spectrum of sporting and
cultural events, and its placement on a defunct drivein terrain is in keeping with its entertainment mandate.
Caesars Gauteng, the R1,3 billion hotel, casino and
convention resort, is located next to Johannesburg
International Airport in Kempton Park. It is owned by
Global Resorts (East Rand) (Pty) Ltd. It is a joint
venture between Global Resorts ± the leading South
African black economic empowerment consortium
Marang Gaming Investments ± and Las Vegas-based
Park Place Entertainment Corporation ± the owner of
Caesars Palace in Las Vegas (Designs fit for ...
2000:1). A group of South Africans leased the name
from Caesars Palace in Las Vegas and decided to
create Caesars Gauteng on the site of the former
South African World Trade Centre in Kempton Park.
South Africa's transition from apartheid to democracy
was hammered out there in 1993 after months of
negotiation at the Congress for a Democratic South
Africa (Codesa). In order to acknowledge the importance of Codesa, the Ubunye Exhibition (Nguni for
ùnity'), has been set up as a permanent retrospective
and reminder of South Africa's burdened past. This
exhibition features panel displays and historical
artefacts, as well as waxwork figures of people who
shaped the democratisation of South Africa, including
Nelson Mandela, F W de Klerk, and Roelf Meyer (The
Ubunye ... 2001:1).
It is singularly ironic that Caesars Gauteng, ostensibly dedicated to reviving the legendary `decadence'
of the Roman Empire, is sited in a space that has such
historical and political resonance for South Africa. The
distortion of the past and identity that are commonly
implicated in myth-making, are here doubly enacted
in the mythologising of both the Roman Empire and
the new South Africa. The establishment of a credible
entertainment environment depends on skilful simulation, appropriation and themeing, which are examined
in the next section.
2 THEMATIC DISGUISES
All the casino developments in Gauteng have paintings that convey and develop the theme of the
establishment in some manner. The only two developments in Gauteng that enunciate an explicitly
Àfrican' theme are Gold Reef City Casino's `Johannesburg in the 1890s' theme and the Emerald Safari
Resort's `Cape to Cairo' theme (which verges on the
èthno-kitsch'). Conversely, Montecasino is based on
a `Tuscan' theme, Caesars Gauteng illustrates `the
legend of the Roman Empire', and Carnival City has
created a `circus carnival' environment. The following
sections focus on the notion of themeing at Carnival
City and Caesars Gauteng, and indicate how the two
different themes are expressed and sustained, thereby
contributing to the total fantasy atmosphere.
Themeing is a mechanism of visual persuasion that
originated with Walt Disney (Painton 1991:52), and
since then it has been linked with the concept of
entertainment architecture. Themeing creates an overall narrative or identity based on `shorthand stylizations of person, place and thing [based on] an archive
of collective memory and belief, symbol and archetype ... This is the ``bank'' of popular culture' (King
1991:6). Thematic unity in an entertainment landscape10 is usually acquired by combining architecture,
costumes, landscaping, lighting, naming, speciality
foods and ornamentation (Hildebrandt 1981:98).
Waldrep (1995b:204±5) comments that themeing
needs only to convey the ìmagined `èssence'' ' of a
place or period (emphasis added). The fictionalised
mystique should therefore be vague enough to
manipulate memories from the `bank of popular
culture', but need not have historical referentiality or
specificity. Themeing has become an ubiquitous part
of the entertainment landscape; not only is spending
enacted in thematised environments (Tomlinson
1990:28), but Gottdiener (1998:15) also points out
that themeing has become indispensable in creating
differences between similar sites of consumption,
since it aims to create distinct spatial experiences.
This point is supported by the variation in themes in
Gauteng casinos, allowing consumers to choose
different leisure experiences.
Hyper-themeing and simulated reality have become
commonplace in today's shopping malls and casino
resorts where people are encouraged to absorb signs,
codes and images from many cultures, and in so doing
behave like tourists or sightseers (Urry 1995:149).
According to Urry (1995:192), `tourism is fundamentally concerned with visually consuming the physical
and built environment', and in a cultural domain such
as South Africa, this visual consumption is encouraged by introducing Americanised entertainment
paradigms. In Gauteng, casinos have followed the
American Las Vegas `theme park' type entertainment
obsession where myths, fantasies, celebration, spectacle and dreams of democracy, wealth and the good
life comply with the demand for instant gratification.
Buchanan (2000:1) confirms this by examining the
history of casino development nationally and internationally, and contends that the development of
fantasy environments shows that a variety of ploys are
used to lure gamblers to entertainment establishments.
It is the opinion of the authors that themeing
operates under the assumption that a willing suspension of (dis)belief can be created by means of floating
signifiers that collude in the consumption of specious
spectacle. The trend of hyper-theming is therefore one
with powerful ideological potential that all five
casinos in Gauteng have embraced. Each one has
responded to various sites by employing different
themes and creating diverse ideas and designs to
produce what Sarah Chaplin (1998:79) calls `culture
villages'. These are carefully orchestrated and designed environments that are themed so as to be
reminiscent of another place and time (Chaplin
1998:79). Building entire pieces of èlsewhere' and
consuming foreign architecture on home territory
create the typical postmodern ability to see the world
without necessarily having to visit it. Chaplin
(1998:77) claims that close attention to detail is
enlisted in order to suggest a specific cultural
resonance, and to make the experience sufficiently
exotic or òther' to satisfy an active curiosity. In South
Africa, like everywhere else, mediated images of other
parts of the world dominate the popular imagination
and demand that leisure space be colonised (Chaplin
1998:77) by, for instance, fragments of African
otherness, remnants of the Roman Empire, or the
clicheÂd carnivalesque. Chaplin (1998:79) questions
whether this `cultural sampling' is intended to act as
an enticement to visit the real country or destination
portrayed, or whether it demonstrates that tourists and
consumers often seem to prefer selected highlights in
place of the `real thing'. However, she also contends
that this type of cultural representation is positive in
that it offers accessible consumer experiences (Chaplin 1998:79). The converse can naturally be argued,
since the reduction of cultures to hypercultural
stereotypes and simplistic cultural codings can verge
on (unintentional) parody, and, more importantly, can
invalidate or distort `real' history and culture.
According to Gottdiener (1998:15), people consume not only commodities and services, but also
environments, and themed consumer spaces are using
this phenomenon to build their commercial capital.
Within this postmodern era, Baudrillard (1983:45)
claims that representation offers the viewer an imitation where the `simulacrum is indistinguishable from
the original and what is celebrated is the success of
artifice'. It is thus evident that the use of intertextual
appropriation, parody and eclecticism does not detract
from postmodern leisure landscapes, but rather generates their success. This obviously has the potential
to lead to rampant competition between entertainment landscapes in the desire to create exciting and
seductive spaces ± which is now starting to manifest
in South Africa.
Buchanan's (2000:2) critique of foreign themeing
in Gauteng casinos is that it has become unmanageable. He states that South Africa has been striving for
an identity that would render its commercial, retail and
hospitality developments more attuned to an African
19
ethos. By incorporating postmodern pastiches of
Georgian and Tuscan imagery, South Africa has failed
to use those very icons deemed so sacred in the quest
for African roots. Buchanan (2000:1) argues that òur
newly acquired Circus Tent [Carnival City], Roman
Edifice [Caesars] and Tuscan Village [Montecasino]
stand testimony to this phenomenon as alien blots on
our African landscape'. He does, however, recognise
Gold Reef City Casino and the Emerald Safari Resort
as being the closest Gauteng has come to situating
gambling in an African context. He admits that the
gambling board could not possibly have accepted five
bids based on an African identity, and in so doing,
disqualifies part of his argument. He even suggests
that gambling fanatics will pour every cent into the
first available slot machine, be it in an extravagantly
recreated fantasy site, or in a disused aircraft hanger
(Buchanan 2000:2). It is unclear whether Buchanan
is objecting to the new gambling licences and casinos
as such, or to the fact that an African identity has been
neglected. What is certainly pertinent is that it is
doubtful whether simulated replicas and pastiches of
other cultures can aid in any manner the need for
cultural identity and an ideology of nationhood in
contemporary South Africa.
Gottdiener (1998:13) believes that `meaning is
produced through difference and contrast', and it is
this point that creates a multiplicity of choice for
consumers. The juxtaposition of themed casinos
produces a spectacular system of signification and
diversity and Buchanan's (2000:1) claim that an
African identity has not been established in these
casinos has had no bearing thus far on the appeal or
public attendance at these establishments.11 The
following sections are devoted to a description of
the paintings in Carnival City Casino and Caesars
Gauteng, so that their articulation with the myth of
leisure can be sketched thereafter.
2.1 Carnival City Casino
Carnival City Casino is described by Sun International
(Casino 2001:1) as a `breathtaking exercise in
illusion'. Its carnival theme is clearly discernible in its
exuberantly coloured architecture that resembles a
circus tent or marquee. Dover (2000:3) describes the
interior deÂcor as being `spectacular, a true fantasy
where larger than life harlequin light fittings fill the sky
and pirates hang out of eight hot air balloons above
the casino floor'.
The casino's theme harks back to Medieval carnivals where, according to Mikhail Bakhtin (1984:122),
there was no division between performers and
spectators. Bakhtin (1984:122) states that `[c]arnival
is not contemplated and strictly speaking, not even
performed; its participants live in it, they live by its
laws as long as those laws are in effect; that is they
live a carnivalistic life'. He maintains that the carnival
principle disrupts hierarchical structures and social
systems and conventions concerning etiquette and
behaviour (Bakhtin 1984:123). Carnival therefore
offers a temporary refusal of the official world and
`combines the sacred with the profane, the lofty with
20
the low, the great with the insignificant and the wise
with the stupid' (Bakhtin 1984:123). In this respect,
Carnival City represents the typical postmodern cooption of the carnival principle, since it does not offer
a challenge to the order of the real world, but rather a
celebration of the pleasure of consumption, masquerading as transgressive emancipation.
Eaton (1988:85) states that, ùnderstanding the
context in which an object is created and experienced
is essential if we are to perceive it correctly', and so
casino paintings cannot be analysed in isolation, but
must be considered within the context in which they
exist. The subject matter of the paintings in Carnival
City has been derived from famous international
carnivals. The Coon Carnival in Cape Town is used
in the Carnival Club, the Rio de Janeiro Mardi Gras
appears in the Lotto Plaza, and the Venetian Carnival
and Japanese Theatre are expressed in the main
casino area. In the zone leading from the main casino
to the food court, a large-scale curved mural painting
depicts a multi-cultural carnival parade mixing Venetian, South American and Oriental performers, projecting a representation of world celebration and
festival. Clowns, jesters, horses, dancers, trumpet
players, showgirls and circus or carnival performers
represent all five continents. They move in unison,
while in the background bright lights, fireworks,
streamers, pennant flags and balloons fill the sky.
Intense lustrous colour, a busy composition and
larger-than-life figures create a loud and overwhelming impression of the putative ùnity in diversity'
South Africa expresses.
Elsewhere in the casino area, paintings reminiscent
of posters or billboard advertisements combine typographical slogans with stereotypical entertainment
figures to promote the rides, events and performances
usually found at carnivals or circuses. Simple compositions are used throughout whereby the focal point
rests in the centre of the paintings, while surrounding
images and symbols relate back to the central image.
This simple layout creates an iconic design with
shallow depth of field and no real sense of perspective, and makes the paintings easy to read and
accessible, in the manner of posters. The symbolic
function of these specific works has elicited a debate
as to whether they are purely decorative, or whether
these shows, rides and performances actually do exist.
In this manner, art can be used to create desire and
entice consumers to participate and buy into the
communal fantasy by spending money. (The word
communal is operative and imperative in this context,
since most entertainment landscapes rely on the
principle of collective or shared experiences to confer
an atmosphere of pleasure.)
All the paintings in Carnival City were executed in
acrylic paint on canvas and have been stretched and
stuck onto straight, concave and convex walls. Some
are elaborately framed in gold, while others are edged
with `dressing-room lights', demonstrating the ubiquity of an iconography predicated on entertainment.
The upper section of the cylindrical centrepiece in the
main casino, which displays `cut-out' paintings
depicting the rooftops of circus tents, marquees and
roller-coaster rides, is lit by stage lights, and forms a
360-degree representation of a carnival seen from the
air. These sectioned `cut-outs', positioned one behind
the other, not only remind one of three-dimensional
illustrated children's pop-up books, but also create the
illusion of space in the casino.
The large, cheerful murals in the food court depict
festivities and performances typically found at carnivals, and are flanked by multi-coloured flags. Clowns
and jesters blow fire, juggle and do card tricks, and
carnival-goers bustle about buying food and tickets
from decorated wagons for carousel and roller coaster
rides. The illustrative style of painting could be
considered naõÈve, but because carnival is usually
based on fantasy, masquerade and illusion, the style
of the paintings complies with the ambiance and
function of the environment. The visual images on the
walls act as a kind of `hybridised cultural imperialism'
whereby the consumer simultaneously consumes two
types of environment: the representational image
itself, and the unspoken code of behaviour expected
from consumers (Chaplin 1998:79). The paintings
consequently reflect the world of carnival for visitors,
and produce desire within the mythologised spaces of
consumption.
Seven brightly coloured paintings in the Lotto
Plaza, which opens onto the main casino floor, depict
showgirls flaunting elaborate feathered headdresses,
while musicians and male dancers hide behind masks
and costumes reminiscent of parade, carnival and
ceremony. The night sky is filled with balloons, stars
and fireworks, and in the top right-hand corner of two
of the paintings, a giant statue of Christ, reminiscent
of the statue on Corcovado Mountain in Rio de
Janeiro, overlooks the lit-up landscape. These paintings have been hung in such a way that the viewer
gazes up towards them and they resemble `snapshots'
that could have been taken by anyone in the crowd.
The Carnival Club Tables Prive is surrounded by
original oil paintings by South African artists such as
George Boys, Kevin Roberts and Velaphi Mzimba.
These works are situated in medallion-shaped niches,
one metre in diameter, and feature interpretations of
the carnival theme in the artists' personal choice of
style and medium. These paintings are framed in
ornate gold frames, and are signed, which is the only
instance where specific artists are acknowledged in
Carnival City.
Carnival City thus consistently uses variations on
the theme of carnival to create illusionist artifice to
seduce viewers into believing, even briefly, that what
is painted, and by extension what is experienced, is
real (cf Wrigley 1997:10), creating a contained
Baudrillardean world in which the loss of the real
and meaning are concealed by sophisticated hyperreal mechanisms of disguise. Although it will be
shown in the next section that the theme developed at
Caesars Gauteng is very different, it is already clear
that the underlying impulse at the two venues is
indeed to thematise the spectacle of spending, as
suggested earlier.
2.2 Caesars Gauteng Casino
Gottdiener (1998:13) claims that `the function of
architecture within a commercial environment is the
seduction of the consumer', and it appears that
Caesars subscribes to this tenet in order to attract its
patrons. Caesars Gauteng's impressive appearance
and opulent architecture are carried through into the
casino by means of paintings, fusing a selective
representation of the past with the present by means
of imitation. In the Palace Court Prive monumental
Roman architecture and Rome's victories are depicted
in paintings representing public squares, where
bronze statues of important political subjects are
elevated on Doric and Corinthian columns. A panoramic view of ancient Rome unfolds along the curved
wall above the slot machines in the Palace Court's
Slots Prive. Cityscapes and historic landmarks can
also be seen in various paintings throughout the
casino, and in some instances give the impression of a
postcard or tourist `snapshot', as at Carnival City
Casino. The use of linear perspective and depth of
field are evident in all the architectural and rural
landscapes, and create the illusion of space and
verisimilitude.
There are more than 30 frescoes covering walls,
coffered ceilings, niches and domes in Caesars
Gauteng. A team of South African artists, using the
methods of Michelangelo and a naturalistic approach,
created depictions of people, places, myths and
events that are evocative of ancient Rome (Global
Resorts 2000b:3). This close study of nature and trueto-life representation is found in most casino paintings, and seems to confirm that illusionism plays an
important role in convincing consumers of a flawless
and utopian world. Many (Marxist) critics have
considered naturalism in a critical light, damning its
materialism as the `dispassionate, more or less detailed
photographic rendering of a non-tendentious scene'
(Bullock & Trombley 1977:566). By making use of a
so-called accessible naturalistic approach, a reality is
re-created wherein true-to-life depictions help convince consumers of the `truthfulness' of their surroundings.12 It certainly bears pointing out that
naturalism is usually considered to be the ideal
aesthetic modality of both the kitsch impulse and
nostalgia (cf Calinescu 1987:239), which are indispensable components of most entertainment landscapes.
Suzanne du Toit, Riaan Bosch, Marinda Combrinck
and Kobus Walker painted the two exuberant domes
that encircle the main casino floor. The works were
painted directly onto a primed concave wall with
acrylic paint and depict a 360-degree worm's eye
view of intertwined clothed and unclothed figures
cavorting in rhythmic motion. In the foreground, lively
figures and mythical beasts leap about drinking wine
and playing musical instruments, while the middle
ground is filled with interwoven trees and shrubbery.
The distant mountains and pale-blue sky filter through
trees and dense leaves. The movement of the swinging bodies creates an oscillating effect, enhancing and
emphasising the width of the circular dome. These
21
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (22±28)
two domes depict scenes from Greek and Roman
mythology. The French painter Nicolas Poussin's
representations of bacchanalian revelry inspired the
dome at the entrance to the casino from the Emporium
(Global Resorts 2000b:4). The second dome is based
on a ceiling fresco by the Italian painter Annibale
Caracci in the Palazzo Farnese in Rome, and depicts
the triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne (Joubert
2000:8). Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and
mythical ecstasy, gambols in the circle of dancers in
the second dome; his devotees, the `maenads', pursue
their orgiastic deeds in the domes as donkeys, goats,
dogs and rams are sacrificed and eaten by the
participants. Other mythical figures who join in the
festivities include Pan, who is shown pursuing Syrinx.
The paintings in the coffered ceiling of the Imperial
Suite repeat some of the mythological stories depicted
in these two domes. Du Toit and her team recreated a
universal story of love and jealousy, taken from Livy's
History, for the Imperial Suite's extensive oval ceiling
in the Palace Court Prive (Global Resorts 2000b:4).
Its three-dimensional ceiling with frescoed inner
panels depicts mythical figures and Roman subjects
against a backdrop of light-blue sky. Although the
òriginals' of these paintings may not be recognised by
many spectators, the contention here is that the
cultural coding of bacchanalian excess is sufficiently
clear to connote pleasure as a backdrop for the
activities offered in the casino.
Twenty-four canonical paintings by the Òld Masters' have been reproduced in the Via Fiabe passage
leading from the main casino area to the hotel. These
are exhibited as if in an art gallery, elaborately framed
in gold and hung above one another. The paintings
span the fifteenth to the nineteenth centuries, and
although they are linked by their treatment of
mythological themes, their function in the casino
arena is not clear. Sandro Botticelli's Primavera and
John William Waterhouse's Hylas and the nymphs are
two of the paintings that have been copied and
exhibited as if òriginal'. None of these paintings has
been signed, and no mention is made of the South
African artist(s) who copied them; gold plaques
below the paintings merely indicate the original
artists' names and the titles of the paintings. Once
again, the liminal world between art and artifice is
skilfully conjured up to contribute to the aura of
artistic quality, value and originality, which ultimately
collude in sustaining the myth of leisure in which
casinos are situated. The next section examines some
of the possible mythical and ideological functions of
casino paintings.
3 THE IDEOLOGICAL OPERATIONS OF THE
MYTH OF LEISURE
In order to clarify the constitution of the myth of
leisure, it is important to acknowledge that the mythic
impulse is equally complicit in both verbal and visual
texts. Barthes (1957:109) describes myth as a system
of communication or a type of speech that studies
ideas in form, and he considers myth a metalanguage
that fits into a second-order semiological system. That
22
which is the sign in the first system becomes a mere
signifier in the second. The materials of mythical
speech, including painting, photography, posters,
rituals, objects and language, however different they
may seem, are reduced to a pure signifying function
when they are caught up in myth (Barthes 1957:114).
When applying this second-order semiological system
to the casino paintings discussed earlier, it can be
seen that their codes of form and content amalgamate
to form the first signifier of myth. For Barthes (1957),
myth is not so much a non-truth as a socially
constructed truth with an underlying ideological
meaning aimed at maintaining the status quo. Societies therefore create, sustain and justify myths for the
sake of their own survival, and it is within this context
that casinos project the myth of leisure.
Leisure can be defined as time that is not obligated,
and leisure activities as non-obligatory (Roberts
1970:6). Leisure is situated in people's `free time'
during which their behaviour is dictated to by their
own will and preference. Producers or providers of
entertainment in the leisure industry aim at drawing
people away from their harsh, drab everyday life by
making use of divergent strategies to exclude reality.
Dyer (1992:4) argues that èntertainment is a specific
aspect of leisure' that is used extensively in themed
casinos to enable consumers to escape the cruel
realities of life. Art and entertainment were once
considered binary oppositions whereby entertainment
was identified as vulgar, easy, cheap and democratic,
while art was deemed serious, edifying, eÂlitist and
refined (Dyer 1992:5). This distinction is questioned
today, especially in the casino arena where art is relied
upon to convince spectators of the authenticity of the
themed entertainment environment.
Jerde (1998:69) states that `within our world today
there is an ever increasing, and ever more hungry
population whose rising expectations for quality of life
and communal experience are changing the way
architects', and by extension the leisure industry, are
approaching their task. Casino complexes are sites of
recreation that are attracting thousands of spectator±
consumers through their diverse modes of entertainment by emphasising possibilities of escapism and
pleasure. Developing what is termed cultural desire is
essential in communicating the myth of leisure, and
this is precisely the main concern of casinos (Urry
1995:213).
Casinos are indeed àll-consuming places' where
paintings, as visual objects, also become signifying
commodities that can be devoured by visitors. It is
thus of great importance that producers of such an
aesthetic make use of these objects of consumption to
project the myth of leisure and desire. Dyer (1992:8)
claims that èntertainment offers the image of ``something better'' to escape into' by offering consumers
choices, hopes, dreams and wishes. These, he argues,
are the things that make up the sense of what utopia
could be like by creating what it would `feel' like to
exist there (Dyer 1992:8). Chaplin and Holding
(1998:8) maintain that spaces of pure consumption
are orchestrated to ensure personal safety, predictable
experiences, assured pleasure and bought gratifica-
tion. The critique of leisure from the standpoint of the
Frankfurt School is naturally that it instils false,
materialist desires for consumption. Chaplin and
Holding (1998:8), furthermore, believe that leisure
spaces produce so-called docile bodies that are
without the will to power, and are attracted and
seduced by the creators of entertainment spaces to
expend both time and money. Consumer±spectators
thus visit these spaces of consumption expecting to
relax and be entertained. Despite the traditional
critique of the culture and leisure industries, current
leisure theory suggests that if people did not have the
opportunity to be `docile bodies' for a few hours a
week, they would suffer from added anxiety, and
society would be (more) dysfunctional (Chaplin &
Holding 1998:8).
The type of leisure proffered by casinos by means of
entertainment and visually aesthetic themes, allows
consumers to wallow in the fabrication of what it
ought to feel like to relax, escape and dream.
However, this false or hyper-reality serves not only
the needs of the consumer, but also the pockets of
casinos; the notion that entertainment has become
almost exclusively dedicated to making money is
revealed in its ideological alignment with capitalism.
The authors of this article believe that the ideological
underpinnings of casinos, and the ideas, attitudes,
values and belief systems they enunciate, directly
influence the form, function and execution of casino
paintings. Ideologies, according to Eaton (1988:86),
`shape the values and ways of perceiving, so people
don't choose to view works in a certain way; their
view is determined for them'. Baudrillard explains that
to make a person a consumer, it is necessary to tamper
with his/her personality, to create and implant new
needs and desires within him/her (Hawkes
1996:173). Therefore, the needs and aspirations of
the postmodern subject are to an extent artificially
created to serve the interests of a market economy.
The concept of consummativity thus replaces productivity as the organising principle of consumer
capitalism, and indeed determines it (Hawkes
1996:173).
A hidden agenda and veiled hegemonic impulse of
silent domination exert their influence within the
enclosed mini-world of the casino. Professional
business people and companies in the leisure industry
finance entertainment developments, and in so doing
largely define them (Dyer 1992:13±17). Organisers,
beneficiaries, developers and interior designers do not
simply `give the people what they want', (Dyer
1992:18), they also define many of those needs, and
so on the one hand follow a relatively autonomous
mode of cultural production. However, consideration
for the target market's leisure needs is expressed in a
heteronymous principle. And so the defined wants set
by producers and real needs felt by consumers are
communicated, and function simultaneously. The
balance between these, and the success of their
collaboration, thus largely determine the survival of
entertainment developments (Dyer 1992:19).
Pierre Bourdieu (1993:115) describes two fields of
cultural reproduction that could possibly further
define casinos and determine their ideological structure. The first he calls the field of restricted production, where producers produce for other producers. In
the art world this concept would be described as
making àrt for art's sake', which is a system whereby
cultural goods (eg art) are destined for an audience
consisting of other producers of cultural goods (ie
other artists). The second cultural field is that of largescale reproduction, where producers produce for nonproducers, namely the mass market, and are dependent on the public at large or `middle-brow' culture
(Bourdieu 1993:128). Bourdieu (1993:128) explains
how
the opposition between art for art's sake and
middle-brow art which, on the ideological plane,
becomes transformed into an opposition between
the idealism of devotion to art and the cynicism of
submission to the market, should not hide the fact
that the desire to oppose a specifically cultural
legitimacy to the prerogatives of power and money
constitutes one more way of recognising that
business is business.
Casinos can be situated primarily in the lastmentioned field because they submit to the market,
and can thus be considered to be part of heteronymous, popular or middle-brow culture or taste.13
One of the principal ideologies that informs the
contemporary myth of leisure is believed to be
capitalism. Objects and places of entertainment are
conceived, designed and produced for the purpose of
making money, rather than for reasons of practical
utility (Hawkes 1996:169; Wolf 1999). Vast resources
are devoted to manipulating the consciousness of
consumers and stimulating desires which can ostensibly be met by visits to spaces such as casinos. The
undoubted utopian impulse implicit in entertainment
has previously been mentioned and, ideally, fantasy
landscapes ought to be able to èmbody the Utopian
seeds of society's transformation' (Warren 1993:181).
The contrary and more jaded view, however ±
particularly in relation to the casinos under discussion
in this article ± would be that `the ideals of entertainment imply wants that capitalism itself promises to
meet ... At our worse sense of it, entertainment
provides alternatives to capitalism which will be
provided by capitalism' (Dyer 1993:278).14 When
confined within these mythic spaces, consumers' real
needs and fabricated wants are blurred, and this
distortion causes the naturalisation of economic
expenditure and unbridled consumption.15
Bourdieu (1993:125) states that `middle-brow art
in its ideal-typical form, is aimed at a public frequently
referred to as average'. The increasing development of
casino complexes and their wide variety of entertainment has, however, attracted and satisfied not only
the àverage' consumer, but also a more socially
diverse public. Bourdieu (1993:129) stresses that this
middle-brow culture cannot stand on its own, but is
instead fated `to define itself in relation to legitimate
culture and this is so in the field of production as well
as of consumption.' Casinos, in particular, run the risk
23
of being criticised by so-called legitimate culture as
being false and harmful to consumers. In this respect,
Haffajee (1997:2) raises issues that have concerned
many South Africans. Amidst growing assertions that
gambling is targeted at poor people, and although it
may be a relatively cheap form of leisure for many, the
`boundaries between fun and addiction are easily
crossed in a country where a world of plenty nestles
so close to a world of poverty' (Haffajee 1997:2). Sun
International has voiced plans for an education plan
that would teach people to gamble with their heads,
and not their hearts (Haffajee 1997:3). But how
would this plan be set up and would it have any effect
on casino goers at all? A `Thatcherist' approach that
imbues marketable value on manifestations of social
and cultural life suggests that `Western capitalism no
longer `'needs'' entrepreneurs with a strong ``Protestant ethic'', for whom time is money, who believe
work is a religiously inspired duty and who save for
the future' (Urry 1995:212). Instead, Urry (1995:212)
contends that contemporary culture encourages hedonists who demand immediate gratification, who
derive satisfaction from leisure and not work, and who
obtain identity from their patterns of consumption.
These are the consumers that casinos and other leisure
landscapes attract and cater for, and around which an
ideological substructure is constructed.
Jon Jerde (1998:69) claims that entertainment
landscapes are designed to create inviting, evocative
places where people feel safe, comfortable and happy;
unique places that speak to the site's climate, context
and culture and genial places where variegated
populations gather to have a fantastic time. As
previously noted, entertainment offers the notion of
`something better' to escape into ± an alternative filled
with hopes and desires. A kind of utopianism is
encapsulated in the feelings entertainment embodies
and evokes, and thus it functions on the level of
sensibility.16 These are the basic premises around
which hyper-themed, idyllic leisure environments are
constructed. The creation of `whole pieces of elsewhere' and `cultural villages' stems from peoples'
supposed need to escape from the `real world', and so
the alternative world of artifice and hyper-reality
becomes attractive and alluring.
The casino, as a world of intertextual pretence that
oscillates between plagiarism, pastiche and parody,
has borrowed its themes from high art and culture
and, more frequently still, from `bourgeois art' of a
generation or so ago (Bourdieu 1993:128). Venerable
or escapist themes, which captivate consumers by
offering them something out of the ordinary in which
to revel, thus seem to be mandatory. Zukin
(1991:231) describes the stage-set landscape of
Disneyland as à liminal space between nature and
artifice, and market and place'. Similarly, the consumer, by experiencing the embodiment of the
casino's visual elements, decodes the narrative or
theme constructed by the producers. Paintings act as
one of the casino's intermediary schemes, and help
broadcast the theme and narrative and, by extension,
the ideological underpinnings of the enterprise.
Casino paintings act as doorways which, when
24
unlocked by the viewer, expose them to an expanded
understanding of the environment and elicit further
involvement. The possession, however, of the key to
the door largely depends on viewers' field of reference
and cultural capital. For example, the paintings in the
two domes at Caesars Gauteng would probably be
glanced at by the àverage viewer' with only representational codes or codes of form in mind. However,
should the viewer possess the hermeneutic code
defined by Barthes (1974:84) as `having the ability
to seek out details that contribute to its solution', or
the referential code that `brings cultural knowledge of
identity, artistic movement, social status' or, in this
case, mythological familiarity to the fore, a more
intense participation in the visual illusion could occur.
Kamps (1999:27) claims that ìn a world of artifice,
art takes on a special aura, standing out in high relief
as something authentic and challenging'. One could
question whether paintings have indeed been included in casinos to intimate authenticity, or whether
they seem in such `high relief' only because of the
context in which they are situated. Michelangelo's
David and Botticelli's Primavera are well-known
artworks that have been replicated in Caesars Gauteng. It could be argued that these copies of Italian
artworks are inauthentic, and are therefore less worthy
or less valuable, because in terms of Benjamin's
(1970) arguments, authorship and authenticity are
inextricably linked. Baudrillard (1994) considers,
however, that a simulation is not merely a fake or a
copy of something real, but rather that it has power
and meaning that in many ways exceeds that of the
real. He explains that when the representation is more
valued than the thing or place it represents, the
òrders' of simulation come into play, wherein he
postulates history as a series of new orders of
simulation leading to the disappearance or death of
all meaning (Baudrillard 1994). So casinos, simply by
offering simulations of a number of sources, and
because of their reliance on copies of famous artworks, could actually be perceived to encapsulate
more meaning than the space or place they represent.
In this manner, the simulacrum assumes full potency
in the postmodern world, and is enacted in countless
leisure and entertainment spaces.
The notion of the `post-tourist' can be brought to
bear on this point, since Urry (1995:140) believes that
the `post-tourist' delights in ìnauthenticity' and `finds
pleasure in the multitude of activities that can be
enjoyed even though there is no true tourist experience.' Caesars Gauteng has borrowed from a foreign
culture by taking from it a selection of stereotypical
characteristics and transplanting them to South
African soil. Italy's architecture, history, mythology
and artworks have consequently been selected to
create for the South African public an idea of what the
Roman Empire was like so that they can `relive the
legend', or in terms of Barthes (1977:35), an image of
Italianicity is generated. Carnival City Casino's theme,
derived from an amalgam of processions, feasting and
pantomimic gestures, games and spectacle, combines
diverse elements of celebration in an attempt to create
a crystallisation of the carnival experience. These are
consequently spaces of `pure consumption' where
simulated images, architecture and interior design
ensure the predictability, assured pleasure and bought
satisfaction mentioned previously.
Most tourist, leisure and entertainment spaces are
thus organised around what MacCannell (1989) calls
`staged authenticity'. In keeping with Baudrillard, it is
accordingly possible to indicate a `world of commodities that are endlessly reproducible, the process of
serial replication takes on a logic and momentum of its
own, to the point where it becomes impossible to
distinguish between original and the facsimile'
(Wheale 1995:50). It is not by chance that highly
professional teams produce these entertainment landscapes. Every light fitting, every wall motif and every
reference to the theme has to be perfectly positioned
and sourced so as to sustain the illusion. On the one
hand this òrientates production towards the search
for effect (understood both as effect produced on the
public and as ingenious construction) and, on the
other, orients production towards the cult of form for
its own sake' (Bourdieu 1993:127).
Ideology by definition thrives beneath consciousness (Hebdige 1979:45). It is here, at the level of
'normal common sense' that ideological frames of
reference are firmly sedimented and most effective,
because it is here that their ideological nature is most
successfully concealed (Hebdige 1979:45). Casino
paintings, situated within a thespian world, do not
proclaim their status as artworks, but are rather
positioned as metaphors for entertainment. Casino
paintings also function metonymically precisely because they are not necessarily experienced as artworks
in their own right, but serve rather as validation of the
mythical environment of leisure and pleasure. It can be
contended that within a heteronymous world, the field
of restricted production is unexpected. People do not
generally go to casinos to look at the artworks, they
go there to gamble, to be entertained, to dine, or to
shop, and so they take the paintings for granted.
However, it is this very taken-for-grantedness that
establishes these paintings as a medium in which the
message is rendered successful by its sheer subtlety.
On a primary level, the paintings form part of the deÂcor
and ornamentation of the casino, but on a secondary
and perhaps more important level, they play a role in
convincing consumer±spectators of the thematic
hyper-real existence of the leisure world.
4 CONCLUSION
This article has suggested that casino paintings in
Carnival City and Caesars Gauteng deserve to be read
as ideological statements in their own right because
they contribute to the production of a particular
spatial experience with the intension of producing a
compelling, total experience. Casinos not only provide
tax revenues for South Africa's nine provinces, but
they also offer consumers apparent respite from the
world of work and stress. Casinos and other enclosed
entertainment landscapes, such as shopping malls,
invariably exclude external references to time, weather
and reality. Timelessness and a hyper-real milieu can
lull consumers into believing, for a white at least, that
escape into fantasy negates reality, that gambling is
acceptable and that overindulgence is tolerated.
Casinos systematically eliminate the negative or
unwanted elements of everyday life, and incorporate
the positive in their place (Zukin 1991:222). Casino
paintings are thus important constituents in the
creation of fantasy environments. Settings are produced that validate the `love of money' and `desires of
the flesh', expressing the hedonistic view that `human
actions are motivated primarily by a search for
pleasure and the avoidance of pain' (Bullock &
Trombley 1977:387). It is thus evident that paintings,
disguised as decoration, can contribute a powerful
aura of culture, class and value in casinos, and add to
the success of the consumers' total experience. Scaff
(sa) points out that Benjamin's (1970) opinions
regarding the social function of art have, to some
extent, been invalidated by the potentials of simulacral
artificialisation, so that the `reproduction of art in our
society is not intended for political or even social
action, but for economic action. We are witnessing
another practice that Benjamin did not acknowledge
(or did not wish to acknowledge) ± art for the practice
of money.
It could be argued that the paintings at Carnival City
and Caesars Gauteng are different in that they
communicate different themes. Their denotative and
connotative assumptions differ, and at first glance
seem independent of each other. Nonetheless,
whether the casino lures consumers with carnivalistic
excesses at Carnival City, or with salacious opulence
at Caesars Gauteng, the common denominator is the
myth of leisure and its related patterns of consumption. The balance between the defined wants and the
real needs of the public is essential for these casinos'
success. Paintings thus present themselves as innocuous interior decoration, and their taken-for-grantedness obscures their subtle ability to re-enforce the
myth of leisure; their language is deception, their
intention is seduction, and their goal is illusion.
NOTES
1
2
3
Under the rule of the National Party, between 1948 and 1994, gambling was illegal in South Africa, and leisure entrepreneurs
such as Sol Kerzner situated their gambling enterprises in neighbouring homelands of South Africa such as Bophutatswane.
The word original is obviously a loaded term, but is used here to indicate hand-painted frescoes and murals in domes and
niches, as well as paintings on canvas, and does not refer to the originality of the subject matter of the work as such.
Walter Benjamin's germinal essay from 1935, `The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction', touches on many issues
regarding the consequences of the reproducibility of art that have perhaps only started to be realised with the current digital
era. Baudrillard's (1994) exposition of the simulacrum in many respects continues Benjamin's discursive investigation of the
25
nature of the original, the political/ritualistic functions of art, and the problematic links between authorship and authenticity.
Most of the arguments in this article are consequently located in Benjamin's initial contributions to this discourse, and in
particular his views that originality and authenticity seem to be inextricably linked, and that `[e]ven the most perfect
reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where
it happens to be' (Benjamin 1970:222). Angela McRobbie (1994) offers a competent re-situating of Benjamin in postmodern
discourse and cultural studies.
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
The manner in which people respond to the world of the artificial and construct or negotiate cultural meaning for themselves
is highly complex, and a study concerning audience response to casino environments is imperative before pronouncements
regarding this issue can be made.
This is certainly a point that needs further investigation, since the risqueÂ connotations commonly associated with casinos still
resonate in the frequent coupling between gambling and sin. Las Vegas seems to have been the origin of the term sin city (cf
Andersen 1994:43), and Sun City was christened `Sin City' by South Africans soon after it had opened in 1979. Le Page
(2001) continues this trend in his article about Montecasino, entitled `Gauteng's newest citadel of sin'.
As with many other facets of the entertainment industry, one of the indubitable points of origin of the creation of total fantasy
worlds can be traced back to the founding of the Disney theme parks from 1955 onwards.
Carnival City is primarily aimed at the blue-collar workers of Johannesburg's East Rand (Dover 2000:3).
The development of a specific genre of casino art can be traced to Las Vegas, which specialises in creating fantasy simulacra.
In recent years, Las Vegas casinos have extended their use of symbols from heavily denotative electric signs, such as at The
Desert Inn, to iconic representations comprising entire casino buildings. In addition, it is interesting that some places in Las
Vegas are collecting original artworks, thereby extending the notion of art patronage even further. The Bellagio Resort,
founded by Steve Wynn, has a gallery of original artworks by Rembrandt, Rubens, Monet, Picasso, van Gogh, De Kooning,
and many more. The collection spans 350 years and is currently valued at US$300 million (Kamps 1999:25).
The psychology of entertainment cannot be examined here, but fantasy and escapism have frequently been postulated as
seminal drives within postmodern modes of entertainment.
Ernie Joubert, Chief Executive Officer of Global Resorts South Africa, speaking of Caesars Gauteng, stated that 'not only are
both the concept and the realisation amazing achievements ± we are thrilled with the empowerment processes which have
been set in motion. These are already bringing benefits to people from previously disadvantaged communities and will
continue to do so for years to come' (New gaming empire ...).
Entertainment landscapes include theme parks, shopping malls, casinos, amusement parks and cultural villages.
This is possibly telling in itself, since leisure sites that enunciate some sort of Àfricanness' are commonly believed to attract
foreign visitors, whereas the cultural pastiches at a significant number of South African casinos seem to indicate a hunger for
the cultural capital that is believed to be inherent in European culture.
The authors acknowledge that naturalism is a problematic and contentious term; the critique of naturalism as an accessible,
so-called bourgeois style cannot be done justice within the confines of this article, but suffice to say that one of its most
eloquent short vehicles is still John Berger's Ways of seeing (London: Penguin, 1972). The implicit alignment between kitsch
and naturalism also informs Clement Greenberg's seminal essay, Àvant-garde and kitsch' (in Art and culture. Critical essays.
Boston: Beacon, 1939.)
The problematic issue of taste in South African leisure landscapes is a topic that deserves to be scrutinised elsewhere.
The classic semiotic examination of Disneyland as a degenerate utopia by Louis Marin (1977) is still important, since he
interrogates many cultural assumptions regarding utopia and dystopia; see also Marin (1993). The structuralist approach
used by Marin to investigate Disneyland is important, since it hinges on the recognition of the sophisticated cultural
constructs that operate in today's entertainment landscapes.
The authors acknowledge that this view could be interpreted as being one-sided since it could imply that consumers are
passive and are manipulated by the purveyors of popular culture. It is recognised, however, that consumers have the capacity
to negotiate their own cultural meanings; what is at stake here is the degree of interpretive freedom that is accorded visitors in
tightly scripted, themed environments.
Dyer (1993:273) explains more fully that `[e]ntertainment does not, however, present models of utopian worlds, as in the
classic utopias of Sir Thomas More, William Morris, et al. Rather the utopianism is contained in the feelings it embodies. It
presents ... what utopia would feel like rather than how it would be organized. It thus works at the level of sensibility'.
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27
Chaos and Crisis: The Swiss Bank Case Study
Prof Sonja Verwey*
Andrea Crystal**
Evan Bloom***
ABSTRAK
ABSTRACT
'n Vloedgolf finansieÈle krisisgebeure die afgelope paar jaar
het die mediafokus toenemend op internasionale finansieÈle
instansies laat val. Besigheidsorganisasies moet, ongeag
hul grootte, toenemend in krisisomgewings funksioneer. In
hierdie onstabiele en veranderlike besigheidsomgewing is
'n krisis nie meer 'n onverwagte voorval nie, maar eerder 'n
onafwendbare realiteit. Die bestuur van beide krisisgebeure, en die geleenthede wat daaruit voortspruit, het die
primeÃre opdrag van kommunikasiebestuurkundiges geword. Vanuit 'n openbare skakelperspektief kan die
bestuur van krisisgebeure en vraagstukke as verwante
prosesse beskou word omdat vraagstukke snel kan
omskakel na krisisgebeure indien dit nie effektief bestuur
word nie. 'n Proaktiewe benadering tot krisisbestuur moet
beskou word as die organisasie se vermoeÈ om vanuit 'n
operasionele en kommunikasiebestuurshoek voorbereid te
wees om die onverwagte en onvoorspelbare te hanteer.
Chaosteorie veronderstel dat 'n krisis op 'n konseptuele
vlak anders beskou moet word. Dit moet eerder as 'n
transformerende gebeurtenis geag word waardeur die
besigheidsorganisasie die geleentheid tot herstrukturering
gebied word. Die effektiewe hantering van 'n krisisgebeurtenis verg 'n strategiese besigheidsbenadering wat
organisasiebeeld herstel, en kapitaliseer op die geleenthede
wat uit die voorval mag voortspruit. In hierdie artikel word
chaosteorie as teoretiese vertrekpunt gebruik om die
Switserse bankkrisis wat in 1995 'n aanvang geneem het,
en oor 'n tydperk van vyf jaar ontplooi het, te ontleed.
Chaosteorie word as analogie gebruik om die voortslepende krisisgebeure wat die Switserse bankkrisis gekenmerk het te probeer verklaar, en om aan te dui waarom die
gebeure onhanteerbaar geword het. Uit die ontleding blyk
dit dat die grootste leemte in die hantering van die
Switserse Bankkrisis die versuim was om op proaktiewe
wyse die nie-linieÃre aard van menslike en organisasiesisteme te oorweeg in die hantering van die krisis. Gevolglik
het dit aanleiding gegee tot 'n uitgebreide krisis waarin nie
net die reputasie van die betrokke bank aangetas is nie,
maar waar die hele Switserse Banksektor weÃreldwyd
aansien verloor het.
The spate of financial crises that have thrown international
financial companies into the media spotlight has soared
over the past decade. Whatever their size, companies today
all have to operate in a crisis environment. In today's
world business crises are no longer a matter of if, but
rather when; no longer the exception, but the expected
even the inevitable. Helping to manage both crisis and
opportunity is the ultimate assignment for public relations
professionals. From a public relations perspective, the
management of issues and crises can be viewed as related
processes, because issues can quickly escalate into a crisis
if not dealt with effectively. A proactive approach to crisis
management can be regarded as an organisation's ability
to prepare for, and deal with, the very unexpected, both in
operational and in communication terms. Chaos theory
suggests that the concept of crisis needs to be reconceptualised as a transforming event that may lead to
opportunity or to beneficial restructuring. Dealing effectively with a crisis should entail both image restoration
strategy and business strategy, which can seize imminent
opportunities resulting from the crisis. In this article,
chaos theory is used as a framework for analysing the
Swiss banking crises which began in 1995 and which
evolved over a period of five years. Chaos theory is used as
an analogy to structure the persistent problem situations
that characterised the Swiss banking crises, and to explain
why the crisis became intractable. From this analysis it is
suggested that the failure of the Swiss banks to consider
the non-linearity of human and organisational systems
proactively gave rise to a protracted crisis situation that
escalated into a global scale crisis, and resulted in
tarnished reputations, not only for the banks involved,
but also for the whole Swiss banking sector.
1 INTRODUCTION
The spate of financial crises that has thrown international financial companies into the media spotlight
has soared over the past decade. According to the
Institute for Crisis Management (Irvine, 1999), the
two categories generating the most negative coverage
* Prof Sonja Verwey is the head of the Department of Communication, Rand Afrikaans University (RAU)
email: [email protected]
** Andreas Crystal is a lecturer in the Department of Communication, RAU. e-mail: [email protected]
*** Evan Bloom is a doctoral graduate from the Department of Communication, RAU. e-mail: [email protected]
28
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (29±42)
of the past decade were personnel related (scandals,
questionable policies, and unethical actions) and
white-collar crime (bribery, fraud and insider trading).
The AT&T insider trading scandal, Barings Bank
collapse, money laundering at Citibank in America,
charges of fraud at Kidder Peabody, price fixing at
Archer Daniels Midland, Sumitomo's copper scandal,
price deals by NASDAQ traders and the unethical
activities of the Swiss banks all illustrate the nature
and extent of financial crises in recent years. While a
crisis can occur anytime or anywhere, how disputes
arise and how organisations and others in society
respond to them, is a central concern of public
relations (Hallahan, 2001:27). Boyd (2000:342)
maintains that corporations undertake actional legitimation when they attempt to demonstrate the
legitimacy, not of their entire enterprises, but of
specific policies and actions. The argument that
corporations require public legitimation is, according
to Bitzer (1968), implicit in corporation's crises
rhetoric. If corporations did not need legitimation
from their publics, a crisis would not create an
exigence requiring a rhetorical response. According
to Boyd (2000:346), in the aftermath of a crisis a
corporation can only re-establish its legitimacy with
publics, while actional legitimacy, in contrast, creates
the possibility of corporate dialogue with publics
before any crisis occurs.
Whatever their size, companies today all have to
operate in a crisis environment. In today's world
business crises is no longer a matter of if, but rather
when; no longer the exception, but the expected even
the inevitable. Helping to manage both crisis and
opportunity is the ultimate assignment for public
relations professionals. Spicer (1997:226) contends
that public relations professionals should become
more involved in strategic management decisions as
the environment increases in complexity. Murphy
(1996:103) suggests that chaos theory is particularly
useful for structuring emerging social concerns and
understanding crises. Murphy (1996:105) states that
a crisis typically forms a sequence of events which,
over time, seems to gather volume and complexity
with increasing speed. Its dynamic therefore resembles that of a chaotic system as it iterates through
increasingly complex phases towards a disordered
state. In a social context the chaos model shows that
issues can develop a critical mass very quickly,
especially where they mark unstable points in social
consensus where values appear to be shifting and
social outcomes cannot be known (Murphy,
1996:105). According to Keene (2000:15), in the
old Newtonian paradigm of seeing the world and
organisations in a mechanistic way, fluctuations and
disturbances are seen as signs of trouble. Organisations seek to control their environment and experience
frustration when it behaves in a way that is incongruent and in conflict with the operation of the
organisation. Kay (1993:367) notes that competitive
advantages within this approach are generally based
on stability and continuity in relationships. In contrast,
complexity theory is based on the premise, that
change and uncertainty will come to pass irrespective
of organisational efforts to control and direct (Keene,
2000:16). In this regard Stacey (1996) notes that
organisations are complex adaptive systems whose
members shape their business and future through
spontaneous self-organising.
Kiel (1995:6) contends that understanding the
functions of chaos reveals that chaos represents both
risk and opportunity. The risk of chaos is that a system
may not reach another point of stability and thus be
overwhelmed by constant uncertainty and instability.
The opportunity is that new ways of behaving and
responding to environmental changes may be developed and become essential elements of emergent
ways of responding to an uncertain world. Many
events cannot be predicted in the corporate world.
However, Seitel (1992:532) emphasises that dealing
effectively with a crisis situation should entail both
image restoration strategy and business strategy
which can seize imminent opportunities resulting from
the crisis. As a qualitative study, chaos theory
investigates a system by asking about the general
characteristics of its long-term behaviour rather than
seeking to arrive at a numerical prediction about its
exact state. The results of individual measurements
cannot be predicted, but a large number of measurements over a period may reveal hidden patterns. As
such, chaos theory may be a useful way of understanding the complexities that result in organisational
crises.
In this article, chaos theory is used as a framework
for analysing the Swiss banking crises which started
in 1995 and which evolved over a period of five years.
The roots of the crisis go back to the period dominated
by World War II. The crisis only began to gain media
coverage when the extent of the claims from
Holocaust survivors and their families all over the
world, and the global magnitude of the crisis, became
apparent to the media. One of the key issues was the
alleged refusal of Swiss banks to honour the claims of
ownership of dormant bank accounts. As the crisis
began to unfold, and more and more claims were
made, Swiss banks took a hard line approach and
initially refused to pay the claims that were submitted.
However, a number of German companies at this time
admitted to war crimes against Jews and other ethnic
minorities, and decided to pay restitution. As a result,
the Swiss banks found themselves in a protracted
crisis that escalated into a crisis on a global scale, and
resulted in tarnished reputations, not only for the
banks involved, but also for the whole Swiss banking
sector.
2 CHAOS THEORY AND CRISIS
MANAGEMENT
According to Mainzer (1994), chaos prevents the
stable strategy of problem solving. In contrast, Kiel
(1994) states that new thinking in response to the
recognition of non-linearity in human and organisational systems has focused on the functionality of
disorder and instability. This new appreciation for
chaos has led to an understanding of both the nonlinearity of the world in which one lives and of the
29
functional aspects of instability in adapting to new
situations. Traditional modelling seeks to generate
stable solutions in an unstable world, while chaos
theory regards learning as the result of instability and
uncertainty, which is evidenced by new forms of
behaviour and response. Koehler (1995:4) maintains
that the best efforts by public relations professionals
to manage a crisis may achieve less than satisfactory
results because
. the problems and issues they face at the onset of
the crisis are often ambiguous, unclear and shifting
. information is unavailable, unreliable, problematic
and subject to multiple, competing interpretations
. resources are limited, not available or utilised at an
unknown rate
. lack of a clear problem definition exists according
to which resources are prioritised during the earliest
part of the response
. simple relationships, even deterministic ones tend
to generate indeterminate behaviour because of
varying response rates between individuals and
organisations
. the application of simple rules may generate
complex results
. small changes may have an amplifying effect across
the entire response resulting in large changes later.
According to Murphy (1996:108), chaos theory
subverts a planned approach to public relations
because chaos theory implies that events have a life
and logic of their own which leave limited room for
intervention. Traditional management is goal orientated and uncertainty reducing and strategy is the
outcome of rational progress towards an objective. In
contrast, chaos theory suggests that public relations
should return to an earlier phase of development in
which `the thought component of strategy consists of
framing the metaphors that make sense of the actions'
(Zimmerman, 1993:36). According to Murphy
(1996:108), even though public relations professionals are often criticised for interpreting events after
the fact, this may, in fact, be the most appropriate way
to deal with a chaotic system whose outcomes cannot
be predicted and whose structure is only manifest over
time. Monitoring change and interpreting its context
may be more realistic public relations goals than
prediction and control (Murphy, 1996:108). In similar
vein, Murphy (1996:108) contends that the value of
public relations may come less from attempts to
influence audiences' perceptions in a planned direction than from the ability to capitalise on unplanned
opportunities. Scenario planning is one approach that
assumes that successful strategy can only be developed in full view of the uncertainty that exists in any
situation (van der Heijden, 1996).
Some theorists imply that chaos-based models do
provide early warning systems and that the behaviour
of the chaotic system can at least be predicted to some
extent. Natural scientists have examined methods for
controlling chaos over a number of years (Ott,
Grebogi & Yorke, 1990). According to Kiel
30
(1995:7), these efforts have resulted in three fundamental methods for controlling chaos:
. Alter the parameters of the system. This means
limiting the behaviour or extent to which the
behaviour is available to the system. In an organisational sense, this entails placing strict controls on
the behaviour of the system or people management.
The negative externalities of this approach to
management are evidenced by inadequate response
to changing circumstances due to mode lock-in,
excessive and bureaucratic oversight, and demoralised employees.
. Preturbations or disturbances. Disturbances are
used during chaotic events to change behaviour
back to more predictable and smoother functioning.
This refers to the sensitivity of chaos to small
changes. The intent with such interventions is to
use small change that creates non-linear effects,
which results in phase shifts from erratic behaviour
to behaviour that is more fluid. The second
approach to controlling chaos is based on identifying pressure points to alter system behaviour. This
is synchronous with emerging views of managing
organisations and inter-organisational response.
This new view argues that recognition of nonlinear systems demands that methods be examined
that require minimal push to develop maximum
results. This approach focuses on open lines of
communication rather than controlling dominating
hierarchies (Comfort, 1994; Bechtold, 1997).
. Altering the orbit of a chaotic system. This involves
continuous tracking with a view to identifying
changes in system behaviour that occur over time.
By tracking such changes, alteration of the parameters are expedited. This approach is consistent
with cybernetic approaches to management. These
approaches rely on constant feedback to ensure
that work and administrative systems are continually adjusting to environmental and organisational
demands and changes. The importance of communication and feedback in all efforts to control chaos
is evident. Comfort (1994) points to the importance
of modern information technologies to expedite this
approach.
Chaos theory is perhaps most relevant with respect
to public opinion. According to Murphy (1996:102),
patterns of media coverage, the rise of special
interests, sudden-onset crisis or persistent rumours
all combine multiple variables in a vastly complex or
chaotic interaction. Chaos theory may capture the
complexity of public opinion, and add to the understanding of emerging social issues or cultural values.
At the heart of issue management is the understanding
of how issues emerge and how individuals and groups
are transformed from states of inactivity to activism.
According to Hallahan (2001:28), issues are often
debated by the general population, covered by the
news media and addressed by the government.
Gerlach (1987:103±147) contends that issues originate with isolated individuals, often as simple dissatisfactions; they gain definition when individuals
locate one another, and gather force and complexity
when highly organised lobbying groups get involved.
Issues are socially constructed and it is only through
communication with others that they emerge. Issues
emerge when problems are analysed, defined, delimited and labelled (Hallahan, 2000:28). According to
Murphy (1996:103), issue managers look for relationships between emerging social concerns, and then
seek correspondences between organisational actions
on a micro scale, and social context on a macro scale.
Because chaos theory is the study of deterministic
systems that are so sensitive to measurement that their
output appears random, chaos theory can provide a
framework for understanding and capturing the
complexity of public opinion. A chaos system operates in an unstable combination of randomness and
order, and it continually changes and evolves (Bechtold, 1997:194), as does public opinion. As a systems
theory, chaos attempts to understand the behaviour of
the non-linear, unpredictable systems. Consequently,
Bechtold (1997:193) maintains that it seems a fitting
model to use to inform strategy development in
today's unpredictable business environment.
From a public relations perspective, Mallison
(1996:100) regards the management of issues and
crises as related processes, because issues can quickly
escalate into a crisis if not dealt with effectively.
Regester (1996) emphasises a proactive approach to
crisis management and regards it as an organisation's
ability to prepare for, and deal with, the very
unexpected, in both operational and communication
terms. Rockett (1999:11), points out that the concept
of crisis needs to be reconceptualised as a transforming event that may lead to opportunity or to beneficial
restructuring. According to Rockett (1999:11), this
view fits more closely with theories of chaos and
evolution, and provides in organisational terms a
positive benefit to the adoption of the view of crisis
as a process whose management, is or should be,
regarded as both natural and endemic within the
organisation. What is at fault according to Rockett
(1999), is not events over which organisations have
no control ± which are natural phenomena but the
organisation itself.
With chaos theory, strategy would emerge from the
natural growth of the organisation working to achieve
its potential. An organisation would approach strategy
development in a manner that allowed self-organisation and exploration of its èdge of chaos' or fringes.
Bechtold (1997:194) views this process as a response
to turbulence. Through the freedom of operating with
an open flow of information from its edge, the
organisation stays connected to its simultaneously
evolving environment and enhances its ability to
handle environmental changes. Interrelationships
among the elements coevolve with the system,
ensuring their compatibility with the emerging order.
The organisation would tap the information and
intelligence of all its members, connect itself with
the evolving environment, and draw that information
into its self-generation. According to Bechtold
(1997:194), this would enable the organisation to
adjust or affirm the `strange attractors' of its values
and its culture as it clarified its purpose and future
direction. Through this process, the organisation
could adjust to small changes or sudden phase
changes as part of its natural strategy development
process. Chaos theory suggests a need for a continuous strategy development process that combines
plan and randomness, and involves all organisational
members in order to deal with business turbulence,
such as a corporate crisis.
Approaching issues and crises in this manner is
dependent on everyone in the organisation knowing
what the strategic issues are, and identifying emergent
issues. As chaos theory suggests, connections among
members of the organisation, as well as connections
with the external environment are critical for successful crisis strategy generation and implementation. In
this sense, crisis management can be regarded as
what Hamel (1996) calls an òpen-ended process of
strategic discovery'. Stacey (1992:125) regards this
process as the discovery of emergent pattern. This
process entails that strategy emerges from the ongoing dialogue amongst all members. It allows for
many possible outcomes through a process of
collaboration which accord individuals the freedom
to discover new directions, decide which to follow
and how to accomplish them. According to Bechtold
(1997:197), it is only through distributed strategising
that an organisation can succeed in aligning a realtime strategic approach to the dynamics of the
environment. Miles and Snow (1994) emphasise the
need for a dynamic feedback system perspective
whereby events are driven by laws (but not ones of
straightforward, unidirectional causality). Rather, the
system takes the form of non-linear feedback loops
where causality is circular.
3 CRISIS MANAGEMENT AT THE EDGE OF
CHAOS
In states of chaos, an organisation's system amplifies
minute changes in starting conditions to cause major
unpredictable alterations in resulting behaviour (Edgar & Nisbet, 1996:8). The sensitivity to initial
conditions, termed the Butterfly Effect by Edward
Lorenz (1979) breaks the link between intentions and
outcomes. Controlling and coordinating organisational behaviour in chaos theory requires that events
and actions be implemented with infinite precision.
The slightest error serves to amplify and cause a
different behaviour from the ideal. While it is not
possible to plan, forecast or control a system's
development as chaos amplifies small changes to the
system, it is possible to monitor small changes and
determine how the organisation or events will react in
the short term. In the longer term, organisations
should seek to identify any similarities or irregularities
in elements of patterns of change, and determine from
these, acceptable courses of action (Edgar & Nisbet,
1996:7). According to Edgar and Nisbet (1996:6),
bifurcation points can cause sudden changes in
direction, character or structure or permanently redefine the system in new and unexpected ways.
However, Murphy (1996:106) notes that chaos
31
theory stresses that these cataclysmic moments are
not random, but rather a culmination of noise within
the system itself. Certain organisations contain flaws
within themselves that amplify over time to selfgenerate crises independent of outside factors. According to Koehler (1995:9), the bifurcation point and
the behaviour that happens there are important. In
terms of individual or organisational interactions a
series of self-reinforcing errors are made that amplify
and redefine the functions of the organisation which,
in turn, redefines its structure. Koehler (1995:9)
summarises management actions at, and following, a
bifurcation point as follows:
. The relationship between work rules, field of action
and the environment becomes increasingly unpredictable
. Problems of varying magnitude and efforts to
address them (èrrors') may generate large structural changes in the organisation
. The organisation's structures and functions may
lock onto one of two or more states or may oscillate
between them.
Eventually, bifurcations and accompanying oscillations become so complex that they cannot be
distinguished from chaotic conditions. Koehler
(1995:10) points out that at, or near, the edge of
chaos the response structures no longer oscillate
between two or more states. It is at the edge of chaos
that organisational systems tend to be at their most
adaptive. The accumulation of errors could lead to
second-order phase transition characterised by a
period of disconnected organisational fragments that
eventually come together to form the new system.
More complex and adaptive structures may emerge
from a phase transition but they are not necessarily
more efficient. In essence, this means the organisation
is sustained in borders between stability and instability (Egar & Nisbet, 1996:7). During this paradoxical
phase, forces pulling the system in opposing directions generate patterns of behaviour that are irregular
and unpredictable. These complex patterns of behaviour are the result of the system flipping randomly
between positive and negative feedback. Positive
feedback provides input that generates further information which, in turn, develops into a cycle of
reinforcing loops, which leads to growth and evolution of the system (Youngblood, 1997:54). If these
amplifications reach a stage of complete instability,
the bifurcation can open up completely unpredictable
futures. Wheatly (1994:96) refers to this à crossroads
between death and transformation.'
From a public relations perspective, Murphy
(1996:109) says that public relations practitioners
may reserve their resources until a pivotal event
destabilises an existing public opinion attractor. When
they act quickly after such an event, they can set the
agenda and determine the next attractor for public
opinion. However, if there is no destabilising event to
mark a bifurcation, or if they do not act quickly, they
may not succeed in creating an attractor that is
congenial to their own organisation. Murphy
32
(1996:109) relates the different outcomes that resulted from the Johnson and Johnson post-Tylenol
actions which ingrained a consumer-orientated image
and that of Exxon's Valdez which served to institutionalise public suspicion of managerial incompetence
as examples of this. According to Edgar and Nisbet
(1996:7), though a dynamic system may appear
chaotic, its identity, its history and sense of purpose
(`strange attractor') define its boundaries, and guide
its evolution and growth. This `strange attractor'
stabilises the system while its natural growth processes simultaneously propels it into chaos. Rensburg
and Stroh (1998:58) note that the strange attractors
of a chaotic system, such as interest groups, make it
very difficult to `manage' stakeholders. They resist
changes from outside, but their inherent fluctuations
cause their own changes. Self-organisation does not
only mean emergent order and self-generation, it also
means coevolution with the greater environment.
Chaos theory assumes that a system creates its own
order and natural growth by integrating transformations into its identity and thus ensuring continual
growth at a higher level of being.
4 DIALOGUE AND COLLABORATION AS
CRISIS MANAGEMENT STRATEGY IN
STATES OF CHAOS
According to Murphy (1996:107), chaos theory also
lends structure to ongoing low-level conflicts between an organisation and its publics. Recurrent
rumours exemplify this pattern. Young (1991:324)
suggests that in chaos terms this characteristic means
that rumours follow their own strange attractors that
impose a recognisable configuration of meaning and
action, in ever-changing and unique iterations, which
are unpredictable, yet patterned. According to Murphy
(1996:107), if a rumour's significance ± its `strange
attractors' ± cannot be specified, it may prove
necessary simply to wait until it dissipates of its own
accord. Kapferer (1990) says that according to chaos
terminology, this happens when enough deviation has
accumulated during iterations for rumours to selfdestruct eventually. Murphy (1996:107) cites the
rumour that Proctor & Gamble supports satanic
worship, which has resurfaced repeatedly since 1982
despite the company's best efforts to contain its
spread, as an example of the type of rumour that is
unlikely to dissipate until its `strange attractor' can be
isolated. In public relations terms, this suggests that
sometimes public relations will entail `riding out the
storms' (Murphy, 1996:106). McKelvey (1997:372)
notes that the complexity of many interdependencies
among individuals having different, but strong objectives make it difficult for a system to overcome the
effects of individual idiosyncrasy, setting up the
foundations and conditions of complexity theory. In
a chaotic system, power resides in the collective,
individual units; especially those external to the
system have little influence. According to Murphy
(1996:102), the main contribution of chaos theory
may be to offer new models for public opinion and to
explain how or even whether, organisations can
control public perception of issues. Edgar and Nisbet
(1996:7) maintain that in chaotic circumstances
organisations should reject over-reliance on strategic
analysis of past events, avoid constraining cultures
and reliance on probability, and focus more on
building an innovative, creative, spontaneous and
learning form of organisation and approach to
strategy.
Keene (2000:16) contends that a key message of
complexity theory is that the world is not an
independent entity that exists outside the organisation
and its members, it is, instead, a world of relationships
in which the quality of those relationships will
determine the quality of experienced reality. According to Stacey (1992), new strategic direction cannot
be organisationally intended ± it can only emerge from
the interactions between people in the organisation
and its environment. It succeeds only when it emerges
from open dialogue amongst all parties, which
accords all people the freedom to collaborate. Murphy
(1996:107) contends that from a managerial point of
view, public relations is above all an effort to mitigate
uncertainty either through manipulating behaviour, or
through achieving sufficient harmony with publics so
that they are unlikely to react in unexpected ways.
According to Grunig's (1992:285) asymmetrical
and symmetrical perspective, this implies that organisations that practise asymmetrical approaches to
public relations attempt to impose their own point of
view on their publics based on scientific analysis.
While such organisations may understand their publics well, they do not identify with them or view
communication as collaboration between the same
frameworks of beliefs and needs. Murphy (1996:109)
states that chaos theory would view asymmetrical
communication as the expenditure of resources to
change an existing attractor from the outside, a
difficult venture given the power of the attractor. By
contrast, organisations that practise symmetrical communication attempt to adjust their own behaviour to
accommodate beliefs and concerns of their publics.
According to Culbertson (1996:ix), recent scholarship
suggests that truly effective public relations practitioners provide exactly that guidance which fosters
dialogue between an organisation and its publics.
Woodward (2000:269) contends that a transactional
perspective requires that public relations professionals
perform as active agents encouraging and directing
collaborations and partnerships with clients and
publics. In this sense, organisational enactments are
products of the active role that organisational members play in creating environments that impose on
them. Dozier and Ehling (1992) suggest that public
relations practice based on persuasion and media
effects is supplanted by symmetrical communication
involving collaboration between the organisation and
its publics. According to Woodward (2000:269),
public relations professionals act in collaboration with
their publics to create socio-cultural and material
environments for organisational action, and these
environments operate reciprocally to shape or condition subsequent action. Therefore, a transactional
perspective places the public relations professional
at the centre of this complex, dynamic picture of
organisational life. Makau and Arnett (1997:x) define
its success as `the will and ability to listen carefully, to
pursue and practice mutual respect, invite reciprocity
and inclusiveness, and to live openly and responsibly
with the dialectical tensions inherent in commonality
and difference'. With the two-way symmetrical model,
public relations professionals use research and dialogue to bring about symbiotic changes in the ideas,
attitudes and behaviours of both the organisation and
its publics (Grunig, 2000:32). From a chaos theory
perspective, such an approach does not attempt to
control existing attractors but rather attempts to find a
fit with them (Murphy, 1996:110). However, this
does mean that the organisation must accommodate
whatever outcome emerges over time, defying the
traditional management notions of control and predictability. Bechtold (1997:201) notes that organisations today require a different approach to strategising
which embeds the process into the daily operations of
the organisation as well as into the web and fibre of
the organisational culture. McDaniel (1997:24) is of
the opinion that if organisations manage according to
chaos theory they would not be able to predict
accurately. However, in a complex and changing
world, the decision to restrict communication to
certainty, is a decision not to communicate at all
(Larkin & Larkin, 1994:238). As chaos theory suggests, connections among members of the organisation, as well as connections with the external
environment are critical for successful strategy generation and implementation. Rockett (1999:7) emphasises that communication inside and outside the
organisation needs to be viewed as vitally necessary
for continuous function, but also always exists as
reciprocal action.
Murphy (1996:108) notes that at their most limiting, chaos models suggest that public relations
practitioners may have accepted challenges that are
difficult to fulfil. Rockett (1999:7) states that any
crisis that develops into a life-threatening, or imagethreatening event, is most certainly a matter of failure
of the corporate structure and processes, and is
ultimately and directly the responsibility of the chief
executive and directors. Any attempt to apportion
blame below this level ignores the fact that, but rather
a culmination of noise within the system itself. Certain
organisations contain flaws within themselves that
amplify over time to self-generate crises. Also important, according to Rockett (1999:7), is that crisis
management is not a separate discipline but should be
regarded as a corporate discipline that should be
directly overseen by the chief executive officer and
should be instilled into management at all levels.
Where the current thinking is to treat crisis management as a speciality, there is a need to move to a
realisation that crisis is a continuum, not a single,
isolated event (Forgues-DuFort, 1998:16). Crises
need to be considered not only as crisis in the timespace dimension but also as a spatial (longitudinal
and vertical) study of management structure and
organisational process. Weir (1996:123) notes that
over 70 per cent of all airline accidents involve human
33
agency, and the bulk of them involve communication
failure. In this regard, Rockett (1999:6) observes that
it is not only human interaction itself or interaction
with material culture and its auto-dynamics that may
generate failures, but also interaction with its own
auto-dynamic and self-organising processes. For any
successful system, all meaningful communication is
reciprocal, and all deficit communication ± the issuing
of advice in one direction only ± is doomed to fail.
This discussion does not deny the usefulness of
current public relations methodologies in the majority
of crises, but seeks to provide new insight into the
usefulness of chaos theory as framework for managing corporate crises. Gayeski and Majka (1996:5)
suggest that in chaotic organisations the public
relations professional's role is to establish communication channels that facilitate dialogue, diversity of
ideas and participative decision-making. According to
McDaniel, (1997:115) the responsibility of management is constantly to facilitate connections between
people and groups, and help them to engage in
dialogue, which improves the dynamic process of
self-organisation. This contrasts with the traditional
management view that implies that structures determine the information that is needed, and that
perceptions must be managed by streamlining and
interpreting communication that may lead to disorder
and chaos (Youngblood, 1997:62). Murphy
(1996:106) is of the opinion that although chaos
theory undermines some trends in current public
relations management, it does suggest three caveats
about intervention with highly unstable publics:
. Change has to evolve from within the group itself ±
it cannot be induced from the outside.
. Interventions work most effectively at crisis points,
when a group is well on its way to destabilising
itself.
. Actions at crisis points must be swift, lest events
take their own shape that may be uncongenial to
the organisation.
Public relations professionals involved in crisis
management should be regarded as `maximum uncertainty managers'. An understanding of chaos
theory, non-linearity, instability and the science of
complexity can provide useful new insight into the
management of public opinion and corporate issues
that give rise to the emergence of corporate crises.
According to Murphy (1996:110), chaos theory is
useful as an analogy in that it structures persistent
problem situations and explains why they are intractable. It is applicable as a qualitative method aimed at
understanding because it is culturally grounded,
taking its assumptions and methods from the social
context from which it operates.
5 THE SWISS BANK CASE STUDY: AN ANALYSIS OF A CRISIS AT THE EDGE OF CHAOS
As a theoretical framework, chaos theory lends itself
to framing metaphors and interpreting the actions in
the contexts in which they occur. As a qualitative
study, chaos theory investigates a system by asking
34
about the general characteristics of its long-term
behaviour. Even though public relations professionals
are often criticised for interpreting events after the
fact, this may, in fact, be the most appropriate way to
deal with a chaotic system whose structure is only
manifest over time. As a result, chaos theory is used as
a framework for analysing the Swiss banking crisis
which began in 1995 and which evolved over a period
of five years. The case study method is used as an
analogy because it utilises multiple sources of data to
investigate the phenomenon. The case study consists
of a series of chronological events, and the qualitative
nature of the research methodology was able to
consider the sequence of events and identify the
emergence of issues (Neumann, 1997:333).
The Swiss Bank Case Study took more than two
years to compile, and relied mainly on Internet sites
documenting the case study and a convenience
sample of 26 electronic articles that was drawn from
a population of literally thousands of articles. The
population was determined by identifying the banks
that were involved in the Swiss bank dormant account
crises. This criterion was used in the sample which
consisted of the whole population, and included all
three Swiss banks that were involved in the crisis
(Credit Suisse, Swiss Bank Corporation and Union
Bank Switzerland). A case study methodology was
selected because Wimmer and Dominick (1987:156)
cite the following advantages:
. It facilitates obtaining a wealth of information about
the research topic.
. The case study method can suggest why something
has occurred.
. Case studies afford the researchers the opportunity
to deal with a wide spectrum of evidence. Documents, historical artefacts, systematic interviews
and direct observations can be incorporated into
the study (Wimmer & Dominick, 1987:156).
These advantages outweighed the possible disadvantages of the case study methodology, such as lack of
scientific rigor and its time-consuming nature. It also
offers a methodology that can undertake field research
in a real-life situation.
6 THE SWISS BANK CASE STUDY: A BRIEF
SYNOPSIS
. Historical background
In the 1930s, Adolf Hitler's National Socialist government introduced increasingly repressive laws in
Germany. With the rise of anti-Semitism, many Jews
started funnelling their money to Switzerland due to
its world-renowned banking system and its long
history of neutrality. Furthermore, particularly German
Jews, fled to Switzerland to escape the death camps.
However, the Swiss also turned away an estimated
30 000 Jewish refugees, but held on to the funds
deposited by the people who were denied asylum.
Much of that money remains on deposit today.
In 1995, eastern European archives were opened to
the public triggering a discussion in Switzerland
about the dormant accounts of those who had faced
Nazi persecution. A fundamental problem is that many
of the initial depositors were murdered in the
Holocaust and any article work connected to the
deposits were destroyed, leaving the relatives of
Holocaust victims no documentary evidence to support their claims of ownership (PR Central, 1996). In
late 1995, the Swiss Bankers Association (SBA)
ombudsman asked all Swiss banks to report on
dormant assets.
Multiple investigations were initiated and are now
being undertaken to find out how much of the banks'
dormant accounts may belong to the heirs of
Holocaust victims and to decide who should receive
the funds in those accounts. The Swiss government
authorised a commission of historians to search for
the truth about Switzerland's wartime record. Six
accounting firms were employed by Jewish organisations to examine bank records to try to identify owners
of dormant deposits. Furthermore, a multi-departmental group in the United States of America (US)
searched US records on the same subject (PR Central,
1996).
The tension between the two groupings (the three
Swiss banks and Jewish sector) has escalated over
the past five years, with both groups discrediting the
other. A particular point of contention is the discrepancy between the two parties' claims about the
amount of money involved. The banks claim that
about US $30 million lie in dormant accounts, while
Jewish organisations say they believe the actual
amount is in the billions.
Ð
Ð
Ð
Ð
. The evolution of the crisis
The Swiss banking crisis evolved over a period of five
years starting in September 1995. The history of the
crisis is rooted in World War II. The crisis only started
to gain media coverage when the extent of claims
from Holocaust survivors and their families from
across the world became public knowledge.
One of the key areas the media noticed was the
alleged refusal of the Swiss banks to honour the
claims for ownership of the dormant bank accounts.
As the crisis began to unfold and more and more
claims were issued, the Swiss banks initially refused to
pay. This was at a time when some German
companies admitted they had committed war crimes
against the Jews and other ethnic minorities, and
started to pay restitution. The question the media
raised was, `Why have the Swiss banks not paid?'
. The Crisis
Ð September 1995: The World Jewish Congress
starts hearing complaints from hundreds of heirs
that the Swiss were making it difficult for them to
retrieve money form the accounts of Jewish
Holocaust survivors.
Ð May 1996: the Swiss banks receive adverse
publicity in the US. Paul Volcker, former chairperson of the US Federal Reserve, is appointed as
chairperson of a committee of prominent Jewish
and Swiss leaders formed to search for the
Ð
unclaimed Swiss Bank accounts of Holocaust
victims (PR Central, 1996)
September 1996: Switzerland ratifies a decree
suspending banking secrecy regulations, in an
attempt to facilitate investigations into the origins
of these deposits (PR Central, 1996).
October 1996: a New York law firm files a class
action lawsuit on behalf of Holocaust victims and
their children, seeking restitution for those heirs
unable to retrieve assets deposited before and
during the war. A second suit follows, alleging that
the three Swiss banks collaborated with the Nazi
regime by laundering stolen money, jewellery and
art treasures. Lawyers estimate that thousands of
people might be entitled to damages and that the
value of stolen assets could range from a few
hundred million dollars to a billion dollars (PR
Central, 1996). In the same time-span, the Swiss
ambassador to Washington, DC, acknowledges
that the Swiss banks have erred.
November 1996: Auditors are given free reign to
look for embezzlement, record tampering and Nazi
war spoils. This allows them to penetrate the
traditional secrecy of Swiss banks for the first time,
allowing ùnfettered access to relevant Swiss Bank
files and personnel.'
December 1996: Thomas Borer, head of the
special Swiss government task force, announces
that it is à moral imperative' to return all gold and
other assets belonging to Nazi victims. In the same
month, the Swiss are accused of `stonewalling'
and `dragging their feet'. The outcome of this is a
call by the World Jewish Congress to consider
calling for a boycott of Swiss banks. They decide
to postpone any decision until late in January
1997. With international pressure for a settlement
mounting, Swiss president Jean-Pascal Delamuraz dismisses as `blackmail' calls for his country to
establish a compensation fund for Jews. In a news
article interview, he states that such a fund would
be considered an admission of guilt and that the
reason for such a fund is actually to demolish
Switzerland's status as a financial centre (PR
Central, 1996).
January 1997: In response to Delamuras's remarks
the World Jewish Congress once again considers
calling for a boycott, as pressure mounts for the
Swiss to make some kind of gesture that would
convey their good intentions. The Swiss Bankers
Association responds negatively to this claiming it
did not respond well to threats and ultimatums.
Also in January, a security guard at the Union
Bank of Switzerland, the largest of the three Swiss
banks implicated, discovers old bank records en
route to the company's shredder, in apparent
violation of recently enacted Swiss law designed
to prevent just such destruction. He passes the
documents on to a local Jewish group which, in
turn, hands them to the media. The bank apologises for its `terrible mistake', but a spokesperson
appears on Swiss television attacking the security
guard.
35
In the same time frame, a state assembly person
suggests that Swiss banks that are regulated in
New York State should be forced to open their
books to ensure that they are not holding money
that belongs to relatives of Holocaust victims and
survivors. In late January, the chairperson of Credit
Suisse and Switzerland's best-known international
banker tells Switzerland's leading daily news that
Switzerland and its bankers have almost run out of
time to defuse the public relations crisis over the
country's wartime record and had reduced Switzerland's international credibility to its lowest
point since the war. On 23 January, the Swiss
government finally announces its support for the
creation of a goodwill fund, although it does not
say whether it would contribute. The other two
large banks follow suit. A week later Switzerland's
ambassador to the US resigns after excerpts from a
confidential `strategy article' appeared in a Zurich
news article labelling organisations such as the
World Jewish Congress as adversaries. The US
State Department releases a scathing attack on
these remarks. Furthermore, in response to the
Swiss ambassador's remarks, New York City and
State warn that they might bar government
deposits with Swiss banks and make it more
difficult for them to do business in New York.
However, commerce under-secretary Stuart Eizenstat, chairperson of a Clinton administration probe
into the funds of Holocaust victims, says a boycott
of Swiss banks would be counterproductive.
Ð February 1997: Early in this month, Senator
D'Amato, who had been spearheading criticism
of the Swiss banks in the US, releases World War
II-era documents that he said provided evidence
that the Swiss handled about US $1 billion in Nazi
gold even though they knew the riches had been
looted. He also highlighted a comparison with
neutral Sweden who had not accepted such
income (PR Central, 1996). In the same week
the banks announce the creation of their 100
million Swiss franc fund, the funds which are
donated equally by the three banks. The banks
claim that such a fund is a humanitarian gesture
and not an admission of guilt. Swiss and American
Jewish leaders hail the move as a positive first
step.
7 CHAOS PRINCIPLES THAT RESULTED IN
THE SWISS BANK CRISIS
As discussed in the theoretical overview, chaos theory
is based on the treatment of problems such as a crisis
or corporate failure as a non-linear dynamical system.
7.1 Traditional management vs. distributed
strategising
Traditional public relations practice suggests that
effective management of a crisis can only occur if all
structures are in place, including management guidelines, the public relations crisis plan and a crisis team
to implement it. The crisis team must strive for the
36
duration of the crisis to allow the company to
continue functioning as normally as possible by
implementing a crisis plan that will ensure that
efficient and effective communication occurs with all
stakeholders, including the media. Once the crisis is
over, the company must communicate with a view to
restoring its image and adopt a business as usual
attitude to ensure that organisational reputation has
been rebuilt and enhanced. The crisis plan must be
evaluated and the necessary changes must be made in
anticipation of the next corporate crisis. If the crisis
team does its job correctly, it minimises the chance
that a crisis can occur, and ensures that if a crisis does
occur it can be effectively managed.
This approach to crisis management may be
effective in linear systems where crisis can be
controlled and predicted, but is not appropriate in
complex, dynamic systems. As suggested by the
literature overview, monitoring change and interpreting its context may be more realistic public relations
goals than prediction and control in complex and
dynamic systems. As discussed previously, the value
of public relations may come less from attempts to
influence audiences' perceptions in a planned direction than from the ability to capitalise on unplanned
opportunities. Chaos theory suggests a need for a
continuous strategy development process that combines plan and randomness, and involves all organisational members in order to deal with business
turbulence such as a corporate crisis.
An analysis of the Swiss bank case study reveals
that the Swiss banks were more concerned with the
daily management of their business than with managing the issues that arose and helped to drive the
crisis. Not only did they fail to manage the looming
crisis in traditional public relations terms, but they also
failed to adopt a proactive approach to crisis management. The Swiss banks' inability to prepare for, and
deal with, the very unexpected, in both operational
and communication terms is evident from the fact that
they did not anticipate the crisis. Therefore, they were
unprepared even to identify emerging issues as they
arose, much less to capitalise on the business or
communication opportunities that may have been
present. As a result, both image restoration and
business strategy were exposed to risk. This resulted
in:
. a loss of confidence in the Swiss banking fraternity
. increased media exposure and negative media
coverage
. loss of new customers
. a governmental enquiry by both the Swiss government and foreign governments
. increased activity by activist groups such as the
World Jewish Congress
. drop in share price income
. a threat to boycott the Swiss banking system by
New York City and the State of New York.
It is clear that the Swiss banks were not successful
in managing the crisis because they were unclear on
the issues that they faced at the onset of the crisis. By
failing to adopt a proactive distributed strategy
development process, information was unavailable,
and no clear problem definition existed according to
which resources could be prioritised during the
earliest part of their response. As a result, the Swiss
banks were unconnected to their simultaneously
evolving environments, and this impacted negatively
on their ability to handle environmental changes, as
they could not draw that information into their selfgeneration. These Swiss banks did not maintain a free
flow of information at their edge, and especially not
when they reached the height of the crisis when the
Swiss bank guard found the bank records that were to
be destroyed in 1997. No apology was ever offered as
an image-restoration strategy. Consequently, their
crisis strategy did not emerge from the ongoing
dialogue amongst all members. Instead, the Swiss
bank management relied on a number of traditional
methods to attempt to control the chaotic system. One
of the methods they employed was to alter the
parameters of the system. This means limiting the
behaviour or extent to which the behaviour is
available to the system. In an organisational sense,
this entails placing strict controls on the behaviour of
the system or people management. The only instance
of communication with employees in any form was
the United Swiss Bank Memorandum, which was sent
on 14 November 1996 to all its non-Swiss employees
detailing how to respond to public concern over
allegations about Swiss banks' links with Nazi
Germany (Anon 14: 1996). From an analysis of
available sources it is clear that staff at various
management levels and at all the respective branches
were not kept informed about the evolving crisis, nor
were they involved in a process of crisis strategy
formulation or implementation. The disturbance
caused to the system by the discovery of the bank
records that were to be destroyed by the Swiss bank
guard was dealt with by attacking the staff member
who blew the whistle in the international media. The
bank compromised itself by attacking a member of
staff for acting correctly while the bank had not by
violating Swiss law. The international media covered
this event and the bank guard received an award from
an outside agency for his honesty, further contributing
to the untrustworthy image of the bank (Anon 14:
1998). The Swiss banks also tried to use interventions
that were designed to cause phase shifts away from
the erratic crisis behaviour to more fluid, controlled
behaviour. Examples of this was the creation of their
100 million Swiss franc fund and the request that the
president of a private Swiss bank, Hans Baer, help
them mediate the crisis in August 1996. The negative
externalities of this approach by the Swiss banks to
managing the banking crisis is evidenced by inadequate response to changing circumstances due to
mode lock-in, and excessive and bureaucratic oversight in the form of high profile comments to the media
which led to the further escalation of the crisis.
Issues as bifurcation points: Swiss banks tether
on the edge of chaos
According to the literature, overview public relations
practitioners may reserve their resources until a
pivotal event destabilises an existing public opinion
attractor. When they act quickly after such an event,
they can set the agenda and determine the next
attractor for public opinion. However, if there is no
destabilising event to mark a bifurcation, or if they
do not act quickly, they may not succeed in creating
an attractor that is congenial to their own organisation. In the case of the Swiss banks, a number of key
events should have alerted Swiss banking authorities. These include:
September
1995
Edgar Bronfman, billionaire businessperson and president of the
World Jewish Congress, flies to
Zurich to meet the Swiss Bankers
Association about claims that Swiss
banks were making it difficult for
heirs to retrieve funds from the
accounts of Jewish Holocaust Survivors.
May 1996
Announcement of the formation of
a committee of prominent Jewish
and Swiss leaders to search for
unclaimed bank accounts of Holocaust survivors.
July 1996
Growing suspicion in the US and
Israel that the Swiss had not been
truthful about the accounts. Fears
exist that Jewish organisations may
support the boycott of Swiss banks.
August 1996
Financial Times writes an article
headlined `Clocks tick on buried
Jewish treasure'.
An important aspect was the failure of the Swiss
banks to deal proactively with the `strange attractors'.
No proactive strategy was employed to undertake
either a risk audit as prescribed by traditional crises
management principles, or to develop a strategy in full
view of the risks that were present in the situation
through scenario planning. This resulted in the fact
that the initial uncertainties that led to the Swiss bank
crisis became so magnified as the iteration proceeded
that the Swiss banks were eventually cascaded into
disorder. Among the events that propelled the Swiss
banks towards increasing disorder were the class
action lawsuit on behalf of Holocaust victims and
their children seeking restitution for unretrieved
assets, which was announced in October 1996; the
Volckers Panel which gave auditors free reign in
November 1996 to look for embezzlement, record
tampering and war spoils; and the announcement by
Thomas Borer, head of the special government task
force that Switzerland regarded it as a moral imperative to return Jewish assets that were being
wrongfully held. By December 1996, with international pressure mounting, Swiss President J P Dela37
maruz, accused foreign critics of 'nothing else than
trying to demolish Switzerland's status as a financial
centre' (PR Central, 1996). Early in 1997, in reaction
to the Swiss President's remarks, the World Jewish
Congress once again considered calling for a boycott,
as pressure mounted for the Swiss to make some kind
of gesture that would convey their good intentions.
On 14 January 1997, the crises reached a bifurcation
point with a security guard's discovery of old bank
records en route to the shredder at Union Bank of
Switzerland who passes them on to a local Jewish
group who in turn handed them to the media.
The overriding pattern, or phase space of the Swiss
Banking crisis indicates that any given outcome
cannot be considered apart from its history, and that
each step recapitulates elements of the step that came
before. Chaotic situations, such as the Swiss banking
crises, are characterised by `strange attractors' where
outcomes wander constantly and unpredictably within a bounded range. Successful issues management
shows the interplay between social concerns, news
events and cultural values as well as corporate goals,
and demands a high level of context sensitivity. This
was something that the Swiss banks completely failed
to accomplish, due mainly to the extent and scope of
communication failure which characterised the crisis
management approach adopted by them. Swiss banks
communicated inconsistently and haphazardly with
their different publics.
It is also evident from the case study analysis that
the communication between the Swiss banks and
their stakeholders, that the Swiss banks initiated and
sought very little communication with stakeholders
before, during and after the crisis events brought
about by the emerging bank crisis. Issues are socially
constructed and only emerge when people share
problems through communication. Issues emerge as
problems are analysed, defined, delimited and labelled. The Swiss banking organisations failed to stay
connected to their simultaneously evolving environment, and thus reduced their ability to handle
environmental changes. Had the Swiss banks acted
quickly in response to crisis events, they could have
set the agenda and determined the next attractor for
public opinion. However, because of their failure to
act swiftly, they could not succeed in creating an
attractor that was congenial to their own organisation.
In this sense the Swiss banking crisis was a culmination of noise within the banking system itself. Because
they made the choice to restrict certainty by restricting
communication, the Swiss banks contained flaws
within themselves that amplified over time to selfgenerate the banking crisis. At the bifurcation point,
the behaviour exhibited by the Union Bank of
Switserland resulted in a `strange attractor' that set
an agenda that was hostile to Swiss banks and their
reputation for being trustworthy. This may also have
been the result of the secrecy that characterises Swiss
banking cultures and which served to reinforce the
suspicion that Swiss banks were not being honest in
their handling of dormant accounts. Because the
Swiss banks did not maintain the communication
linkages that could help them discern what the real
38
issue was, they could also not locate appropriate
communication leverage points. The media attack on
the Swiss bank guard quickly gathered force when
highly organised lobbying groups got involved, and
culminated in the resignation of Switzerland's ambassador to the US and a warning by New York State that
they might bar government deposits in Swiss banks
and make it more difficult for Swiss banks to conduct
business in the US. It also resulted in an announcement on 23 January 1997 that the Swiss government
supported the creation of a goodwill fund. Although
the other two banks followed suit, by the end of
January 1997, the Swiss bank crisis was described as
a `public relations disaster' by Kofi Annan, the United
Nations Secretary General. On 2 February senator
D'Amato, who had been spearheading criticism of the
Swiss banks in the US, released documents proving
that the Swiss banks handled about US$1 billion in
Nazi gold even though they were aware that it had
been looted. By 5 February 1997, Swiss banks
announced the creation of their 100 million Swiss
franc fund. This fund was set up by equal donation of
all three banks, and in a joint statement, the banks said
the following:
Reflecting the intensive discussions which are
under way in Switzerland, to create such a fund,
the time has come for action not words. The banks
trust that this initiative will clear the way for the
Swiss Government, Switzerland's business and
financial community and Jewish organisations to
work together towards finding a just and equitable
solution to the issues involved.
This step was hailed by Swiss Jewish leaders who
said that the size of the fund was not as important as
the fact that the Swiss banks had finally acted to
address years of complaints from Jewish critics. In the
US D'Amato described it as à breakthrough, an
acknowledgement of wrongdoing while the World
Jewish Congress said, àppropriate steps will follow
so that, full moral and material restitution will be
made'. No formal acknowledgement of guilt was ever
made by the Swiss banks, and no formal apology ever
offered. By November 1998 the drop in net income
(Anon 1:1998) of Union Bank Switzerland and the
decline in profits, presented major challenges. This
coincided with the announcement that Union Bank of
Switzerland AG and the Credit Suisse Group would
make their first payout to dormant account holders
totalling US$250 million. This was under the Global
Accord resolving the Holocaust era dormant account
issue (Anon 2:1998 and Anon 3:1998). By April
1999, the negative media coverage continued, and at
the end of June 1999, a US$20 million global
Holocaust publicity campaign was unveiled by lawyers acting on behalf of relatives of dormant account
holders. At stake was a US$1.25 billion settlement.
7.2 A spectacular communication failure: no
dialogue ± no collaboration
From a managerial point of view, public relations is
above all an effort to mitigate uncertainty either
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (39±48)
through manipulating behaviour, or through achieving sufficient harmony with publics so that they are
unlikely to react in unexpected ways. As chaos theory
suggests, connections among members of the organisation, as well as connections with the external
environment are critical for successful crisis strategy
generation and implementation. Failure by the Swiss
banks to accomplish any of this led to a protracted
crisis in which Swiss banks found themselves. The
Swiss banks not only ignored proactive public
relations practice, but also used neither asymmetrical
nor a-symmetrical approaches to manage the crisis.
Organisations that practise asymmetrical approaches
to public relations attempt to impose their own point
of view on their publics, but they do not identify with
them or view communication as collaboration between the same framework of beliefs and needs. With
the two-way symmetrical model, public relations
professionals use research and dialogue to bring
about symbiotic changes in the ideas, attitudes and
behaviours of both the organisation and its publics.
From a chaos theory perspective, such an approach
does not attempt to control existing attractors but
rather attempts to find a fit with them. The Swiss
banks adopted neither approach. No key messages
were formulated. No attempt was made to influence
`strange attractors', even from the outside. In fact, very
little use was made of public relations to communicate
any information to present any prospective shareholders, or to lobby with groups that represented
`strange attractors'. By the time the international
media became impatient with the Swiss banks in
November 1998, the persistent failure of Swiss banks
to respond to media allegations demonstrated that the
Swiss banks were doing nothing to resolve the crisis.
The implication of having poor implementation of
any strategic or tactical solutions meant that the Swiss
banks could not target the media or key recipients. It
meant that they had to `ride the storm' and could not
influence its outcome. The decision to restrict communication was an effort to contain the uncertainty
arising from the crisis. In chaotic organisations the
public relations, professional's role is to establish
communication channels that facilitate dialogue,
diversity of ideas and participative decision-making.
The responsibility of management is constantly to
facilitate connections between people and groups,
and help them to engage in dialogue, which improves
the dynamic process of self-organisation. In the case
of the Swiss banks this failure is clear from the press
release in which Sharon von Sickle, President of
Pinnacle Public Relations World Wide comments as
follows on the handling of the Swiss Banking crisis:
ìn communication terms, the Swiss banks did not
seem to realise the level of interest in the story and
were always on the defensive. They seemed to be
reacting to events, rather than managing them.' In
system terms, the Swiss banks could not create their
own order because they were not connected to their
coevolving environment. Both at the strategic and
operational levels, organisational structures and processes did not provide for open communication flow,
and openness was not imbedded into the organisa-
tional culture. At operational level, the banks did not
have a dedicated spokesperson from the inception of
the crisis. The crisis had started in 1996 and the
majority of spokespeople only started to appear in the
media in 1997 and 1999. In 1999, four years after the
crisis had started, a head of publicity, Jean-Marc Felix
was appointed. In contrast, Edgar Bronfman was the
spokesperson for world Jewry on this issue. Furthermore, it appeared that the various spokespeople for
the banks' lacked media training, which resulted in
key opportunities to put forward the banks perspective being lost. For example, The Independent's article
(Anon 4, 1999) with the headline À rotten episode in
Swiss history' contained the following statements:
Switzerland will never recover from this affair.
Neither will its banks. Now that we know an elite
corps of Swiss Bankers thrived on the spoils of war
as the Nazis murdered millions outside their neutral
Alpine borders, we can never trust the chocolatebox view of Swiss history presented to the world in
the decades after the Second World War. At worst,
the gnomes in Zurich have become the poison
dwarfs of international finance.
The Swiss banks delivered no response. The
example offered and response given are but one
example of many. However, at the same time a US$20
million global Holocaust publicity campaign was
under way. Furthermore, because the Jewish people
were featuring prominently on a global scale in
international media to put their case about the Swiss
banks forward, there was an increase of anti-Semitism
especially in Switzerland. This received further media
attention. According to Bethlehem and Saenger
(1999), the Swiss banks took a very low-key role in
proactively communicating with the media. Hence,
the banks contributed to their own negative image.
From the analysis, it is clear that the banks did not use
the media as their main conduit to reach their primary
audiences. Owing to the global size of the crisis and
the political implications resulting from it, it would
have been expected that the banks would have
entered into more dialogue with their parliamentarians
than the research showed they did. The first bit of
direct communication with the general public occurred two years after the crisis had first broke. This
general lack of connecting with the external environment resulted in a group of publics who were directly
affected by the crisis being ill informed about it and
exposed to unchallenged media reporting. Furthermore, Jewish Board of Deputies across the world was
placing adverts and editorials in local media. For
example, the South African Jewish Board of Deputies
stated, `We first put the information in the Jewish
media, we sent out letters to the Holocaust survivors,
we went to radio and TV stations. The whole
campaign was widely publicised. It was a coordinated and strategised campaign' (Bethlehem,
2000).
8 CONCLUSION
A core principle of chaos theory is to capitalise on
39
unplanned opportunities, thus in this scenario to see
crisis as natural and even desirable. The Swiss banks
failed significantly in this regard for a number of
reasons:
. They remained blind to the shifting values that
surrounded them within the broader societal context. The environment was politically aware with
human rights dominating world agendas. At the
same time, other organisations such as Volkswagen
and Siemens who had been accused of related
issues dealt speedily with the issues by admitting
guilt. The banks did not determine their actions
within the context in which they occurred and thus
could not anticipate the negative backlash to their
actions (or lack thereof). The importance of
bifurcation points was ignored.
. They did not have a continuous strategy, let alone a
strategy involving all organisation members. Consequently, they were not able to alter the orbit of
the chaotic system. This requires constant feedback, which was missing so not everyone in the
organisation knew what the strategic issues were
and no guidance was provided on fostering
dialogue. The banks did not use opportunities
available to them to set the agenda. Instead, they
let other parties set the agenda primarily at their
expense. As such, the banks did not determine the
next attractor for influencing public opinion or
persuade other `strange attractors' to their point of
view. Their reactive actions prevented them from
being swift enough at the various crisis points. The
following was stated in a memorandum of one of
the banks during the crisis, `We are not willing to
accept the unfounded accusations without a reaction. A large PR campaign is, however, not
appropriate. We are aware that the discussions
and accusations have a negative impact on our
image' (Anon 5, 1996).
The few communication channels that there were
were not participative and did not facilitate collaborative decision-making. Because there were very
limited lines of communication, they were not able
to frame the metaphors that made sense of the
actions. Furthermore, they did not alter the parameters of the system very effectively as they did not
use the mass media to aid them in understanding
behaviour or manipulating it. By not remaining
continuously connected among members and external environments, they could not manage the
edge of chaos and the crisis event repeatedly
spiralled. In fact, the banks were the least adaptive
at their edge of chaos. International headlines
included: `Let's stop talking and pay up!' whilst
copy stated (Anon 19, 1999), `To sensitive liberals
everywhere, Switzerland is the country, which stole
the wealth of the Holocaust victims and bluntly
refused to give it back.' It should be noted that on
very few occasions did the banks attempt to fit with
existing attractors.
. They were not adaptive to the chaotic environment,
which prevented self-organising from occurring. By
incorrectly analysing the risk, they did not convert
the chaos into opportunities to manage the unexpected. As such, they were inefficient in monitoring change and interpreting it in a given context,
and subsequently could not function as a learning
organisation. Hence, these banks were not able to
discover emergent patterns in time. Nor were they
able to respond in an innovative, creative or
spontaneous manner. For example, Òne of the
most important events that contributed to the Swiss
banks negative image was when the Swiss bank
guard found all the records ready to be destroyed.
This event showed that the banks were trying to
hide everything. This was the issue that stuck in
everybody's mind' (Bethlehem, 2000).
In conclusion, the problems relating to the Swiss
banks' inefficiency in managing the crisis stems not
from the crisis event itself, but from their corporate
structures and related processes. From a chaos theory
perspective, this case study also shows that crisis
management should not be managed on a technical
level only and neither should it be a specialised
function. They had numerous options according to
the chaos theory but chose to try and `ride out the
storm' ± as such, they were doomed to fail. Their
biggest error was to disregard the non-linearity of
human and organisational systems. In the words of
Baer (Anon 2, 1996), Ìf the PR had been handled
better, Switzerland would not now be standing in the
dock.'
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42
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (43±53)
Development at any cost: ICTs and people's
participation in South Africa
Simon Burton*
1 INTRODUCTION
In the South African context, the greatest challenge to
a participatory communication approach lies in the
rapid elevation of new communications and information technologies (ICTs) to a status well beyond their
demonstrable effectiveness. There is no denying the
significance of these new technologies in the economic infrastructure of the country, and their undoubted contribution to economic development, but
they have installed themselves in a society which has
the following characteristics:
. High levels of poverty for the majority of the
population.
. High levels of illiteracy.
. An unfolding policy process which is part driven by
re-shaping a society based on legislative exclusion,
and part driven by the demands of a global
environment which expects the country to play an
increasingly significant role geopolitically.
. An as yet ìmmature' state, whose relationship with
society continues to emerge unevenly.
. A culturally diverse range of groupings, largely
bounded by spatial differentiation as a result of the
programme of `separate development'.
While considerations of è-readiness' are of growing
concern worldwide, the issue of dovetailing programmes (and evaluations) of è-readiness' platforms
with the discourse and practice of participatory
communication for social change has not really
produced a body of knowledge upon which one can
build a new synthesis. This is really the question
which I hope to address in this article.
The transition to democracy in South Africa has
built significant `bottom-up' approaches into the
initial reordering process: constructing a new constitution; creating a range of independent `watchdog'
bodies in the fields of human rights, freedom of
expression, democratic processes and so forth; and
privileging the voices of the emerging `free' collectivities (such as the unions and civic organisations).
In fact, the emerging `stakeholder' model of
decision-making has permeated the society as a
foundational discourse of participation. This real
development in terms of a public consciousness may
still form the bedrock of expectations at the grassroots, and provide a source of tension as such
expectations fail to materialise in domains which are
more heavily contested (eg, between new forms of
local governance and traditional authorities).
In the field of communications, the distance
between the control of the airwaves by political fiat
and the `people' was displaced by the creation of an
environment which was (and partially remains) an
open terrain, in which a diverse range of voices were,
and are, articulated. The period post 1994 certainly
promised an era of renewed engagement with the
processes whereby `participation' could become a
meaningful reality. Sadly, this process has not lived up
to expectations in all sectors of the communications
domain. The decline of the alternative, communitybased media and the targeting of the old liberal press
are not highlights of a new progressive era in
constructing an open media environment. Furthermore, the decentralisation approach characteristic of
new a governance model, which insists upon the
significance of communication in realising such goals,
has not been explored in any detail, although the
resonance with the project of `participation through
communication' is obvious.
However, notwithstanding debates and differing
assessments of the field of media and communications in terms of their true participatory potential, and
bottom-up possibilities, there is no doubt that
progress has been made.
Can the same be said of the field of ICTs in the
context of development? This is still broadly a sector
within the field of communications, and as the
merging of the two regulatory bodies (SATRA and
the IBA) attests, is seen as such. Convergence is a
new policy domain. The new era of digitalised
information and its technological platforms are surely
still within the purview of any discussion of communication, participation and development.
* Simon Burton is a senior lecturer in the School of Human and Social Studies University of Natal. He presented this paper at the
23rd Conference of the International Association of Media and Communication Research (IAMCR) in Barcelona, Spain, July
2002. E-mail: [email protected]
43
2 THE INSTITUTIONAL ENVIRONMENT
This is not the place to go into a full review of all
policy initiatives associated with new information and
communication technologies. Suffice to endorse the
views contained in James (2001), where it is argued:
. Policy has suffered from a lack of resources for
appropriate implementation (thus asking the question as to its success), and `far from sufficient
attention has been paid to the lack of institutional
capacity' (2001:87).
. A weak and ineffective regulator which has not
been able to fulfil certain functions èssential to the
successful realisation of policy objectives'
(2001:88).
. The skills base in ICT policy in South Africa (and
the subregion) is èxtremely low', and the lack of
human resources in ICTs in government is partially
explained by the high remuneration offered in the
private sector (2001:89).
. Information and research on the working of the
telecommunications sector is not readily available
in the public domain, nor are certain areas well
understood (for example, the use of ICTs, especially
by disadvantaged groups), and this lack of good
data to establish benchmarks makes effective
monitoring extremely difficult (2001:89).
At the same time as one becomes aware of the
institutional shortcomings with regard to ICTs, the
chorus of voices supporting the use of ICTs for a
`great leap forward' becomes ever louder. The plethora
of initiatives around the Digital Divide, and the
invocation of a new form of global society, the
Information Society, or Knowledge society, combine
to a crescendo culminating in views such as those
expressed by Chisenga, who argues, Ùnless appropriate measures are taken, most people will run the
risk of being left out on the benefits of the information
society' (2001).
The central thrust towards mobilising ICTs for
development, as a popular discourse of redressing
the past, empowerment and capacity building, has
been through the debate about universal service, and
the practical implementation of broadening connectivity. This debate initially led to provisions in the
Telecommunications Act (1997) providing for the
creation of the Universal Service Agency (USA)
whose task it would be to establish a telecentre
movement in South Africa (funded through statutory
transfers from telecommunications operators). While
it became clear that there were major shortcomings in
the framework of telecentre rollout, the USA did begin
setting up pilot telecentres and at last count (end
2000) was instrumental (along with a range of
partners, donor agencies included) in developing 65
centres with varying degrees of success (Benjamin
2002:32).
Once again, it is possible to identify a range of
institutional problems with the USA telecentre initiative (James 2001:79) including:
44
. The USA suffered from serious human resource
constraints.
. Reporting lines were confused.
. Problems were encountered with collecting funds
from operators and the Treasury.
. A pilot scheme was broadened into a full rollout
program without the necessary budget or management skills in place.
The problems with the USA initiative go deeper,
however, reflecting confusion at a policy level
(around the meaning of universal service and access;
the implications of cellular telephony) which has led
Benjamin to comment that, ùnintentionally the USA
telecentre programme created dependency and stifled
local adaptation and ownership' and that `top down
planning is very unlikely to achieve bottom up
development' (2002:37). Furthermore, the USA became mired in scandal, which reduced its credibility
and affectivity. For example, the Business Day
reported that, `the auditor-general found in a qualified
audit for the 1998/99 financial year, tabled in
Parliament, that the agency did not have any internal
policies regarding financial management and internal
controls' (Business Day 18/9/2000).
From an institutional perspective then, van Audenhove's (1999) comments seem to be appropriate:
Put rather simply, South Africa's political leaders
share the vision that ICTs can help to overcome
some of the legacies of apartheid. Especially in the
area of services, ICTs are identified as facilitators in
the restructuring of sectors and as the means of
delivering services not readily available, through
tele-education, tele-health, tele-government etc.
This vision is based on a central belief in the
possibilities of ICTs for social change. But this
vision is not set out in a formal policy document,
nor is there a broad strategic policy plan to arrive at
the information society.
In the light of the above, what lessons can be
shared from the grassroots? We know that South
Africa has some way to go before an integrated
information and communication strategy is developed, and that learning will probably only effect the
functioning of telecentres (and other similar initiatives) on a case-by-case basis. It is not with a view to
contributing to this process that a review of certain
cases is undertaken, but with an understanding that
case studies provide a phronetic framework for social
scientific endeavour: that is, as Flyvbjerg (2001) has
argued (deriving from Aristotle), our concerns should
be less with searching for the general principles and
explanations of social affairs than with the practical
rationalities that underpin action.
3 CASE STUDIES
3.1 Case Study 1: Telecentre at Bhamshela
Bhamshela is a small town about 90 km east of
Pietermaritzburg, in an area called Ozwathini. It
comprises a few shops, a school and a couple of
government buildings, which service a scattered rural
population (approx 20 000) in what used to be a
non-independent homeland (Kwa-Zulu). Along with
many similar settlements, it has little formal employment, few non-governmental organisations (NGOs)
and bears the scars of political conflict in the late
1980s and early 1990s.
The normal process of establishing a telecentre took
the form of a call for expressions of interest from the
USA to which communities responded by forming of
an organisation to take the initiative forward. In the
case of Bhamshela, the telecentre was owned by two
community groups, the Bhamshela Arts and Culture
Group, and the Open Window Network (a Cape
Town-based NGO with a chapter in Bhamshela). A
Management board was established, comprising a
local politician, an induna (a traditional authority
figure) and members of the community groups.
The actual establishment of the telecentre involved
a contract signed between the Board and the USA,
and the construction of a building by the Department
of Public Works (although the land was purchased by
the community groups). The centre was launched in
1998. While there is some confusion over the
relationship with the telephone utility, Telkom, apparently the USA itself was responsible for this contract
as well (five lines). The closure of the centre in late
2001 owing to the disconnection of the phone lines
by Telkom highlighted this confusion as an unpaid
amount of R70 000 led Telkom to take action.
This telecentre has been categorised as `successful'
in a number of studies (Telecentre 2000 Project;
Community ICT Survey 2001), although, as mentioned earlier, it is currently closed and waiting
relocation to a newly constructed Multi-purpose
Community Centre (MPCC) to be managed by the
Government Communication and Information System
(GCIS). The idea of success is more related to
questions of sustainability and profitability than it is
to questions around information exchange, particularly in some of the recent research (Community ICT
Survey 2001; Benjamin 2002). However, the management staff at the Bhamshela telecentre themselves,
believed, up until the middle of 2001, that it was a
successful centre.
However, there are a number of problems that this
telecentre faced (many of which are endemic to the
telecentre phenomenon, as identified in the Telecentre
2000 and Community ICT Survey):
. The equipment at the centre, apart from the
telephones, was under-utilised from the start.
. The facilities were not seen as relevant to the
general population of the area whose education
levels are low.
. The costs of services are relatively high in a context
of high unemployment, which meant that telephone revenue was the mainstay of the centre.
. Training of centre staff (which was conducted by
the USA) was inadequate, and staff turnover
contributed to a lack of skills (particularly as far as
computers were concerned).
. Insufficient attention was paid to the 'natural allies'
of the centre, learners and business people.
. No serious monitoring or evaluation of the impact
of the centre was ever undertaken.
. No planning for technical problems and their
solution was ever undertaken, resulting in long
periods when key technologies were unavailable
(eg, the printer and the fax machine).
. Little effort was made to integrate the centre
services with other initiatives (notwithstanding
discussion of a resource centre and library).
In effect, this telecentre was a phone shop with idle
computers, few linkages to the local community and
further afield, without a clear sense of its information
role in the broader community, and an underdeveloped skills node in a context of dire need and
disadvantage. These kinds of problems account for
the failure of about half of the telecentres surveyed in
late 2000 (Benjamin 2002:33)
Throughout a long period of association with the
telecentre (through the two managers), and a number
of structured attempts to gauge community understandings of the role the centre could and did play, it
has become obvious that
. the discursive distance between the underlying
`telecentre as information society development
panacea' and the popular consciousness of ordinary community members was extremely wide. The
generally held rhetoric of the power of computers to
enable information transfers for resolving development problems, particularly amongst the youth and
scholars, was depressingly unsupported by the
reality of the centre's activities.
. the initial interest and enthusiasm in the local Arts
and Culture Group, upon which the centre was
originally founded, was dissipated into factionalism
based on favouritism in terms of part-time employment. In fact, the promise of the centre as a location
for the general strengthening of civil society turned
into a general disempowerment, as a number of
organizations, whose general functioning deteriorated as a result of unfulfilled expectations (of
training and general administrative capabilities),
went into decline.
. for all that, the two centre managers were dedicated
and resourceful, and did indeed manage the centre
in such a way as to ensure its survival for over three
years, there was little progression towards the ideal
ìnfomediary' so often spoken about in the literature
as an essential aspect of ICT use in a developing
context (see Heeks 1999). Nor was there a
substantial learning network created (now recognised by the new approach to MPCCs) although
some efforts at creating such a network were driven
by the USA itself.
. it became apparent that the telecentre, while
making life easier for many community members
(through telephonic contact with relatives, phoning
in case of emergencies, faxing CVs and typing
notices when possible), had no real impact on the
existing sources and locations of important information. Older people only talk about the traditional
authorities when discussing information sources
45
that are trustworthy and of relevance to day-to-day
life in the community. Even more significant,
perhaps, is that the research process undertaken
by the Telecentre 2000 study, making partial use of
a PRA methodology, failed to ask community
members where their local information came from,
whose interests this source served and who was
excluded in this information circuit.
These kinds of problems are very different from the
general problems usually identified with the failure of
telecentres (mentioned earlier), although aspects of
these issues are well recognised in the literature. One
of the most keenly observed problems relates to the
lack of locally contextualised information, and its
corollary, technological determinism or technological
fetishism.
The critique of technological determinism, occasionally heard is still a very general one, which is
essentially incapable of explaining why some telecentres have experienced some success. Gillwald
(2001:180) has suggested that, `behind many of the
policies and implementation strategies in South Africa
has been technological fetishism', and that `laudable
as these intentions are, millions of rands have been
spent fruitlessly on getting technology into telecentres, multipurpose community centres and the like,
without any attempt to contextualize their usage'.
What happened to a once-useful centre which
provided a much-needed service, even if it did not
really impact on the knowledge base of the community? The technical problems, and other externalities,
as Stavrou calls them (training, networking and so
on) do go some way to answering this question.
However, the central element remains the `will' to
make it work in spite of USA bungling and weak
capacity. Could it be that a general passivity prevailed,
or a complete lack of accountability? These are
questions that anyone would be hard pressed to
answer through surveys, observations and data
analysis. Ostensibly, everyone was (is) in favour of
such an initiative. Where does one turn to find these
answers?
Some aspects may become clearer if one turns to
another, quite different initiative, also founded on the
mobilization of ICTs for development.
3.2 Case Study 2: The Msunduzi Community
Network Project
This project, a partnership between the Greater
Edendale Environmental Network (GREEN) and the
Institute of Natural Resources (INR), was implemented in Pietermaritzburg over a period of 18 months
between the beginning of 1998 and mid-1999. It was
initially called The Msunduzi River Catchment Community-based Environment and Development Information and Communication Network.
The project grew out of a growing perception that
environmental and developmental initiatives in and
around Pietermaritzburg would be significantly
strengthened by enhancing the information and
46
communication capabilities of the community-based
organisations associated with GREEN.
The objectives of the project centred on improving
access to information (for organisations and communities), decision-making and action responses
through the establishment of functional `hubs'
equipped with ICTs (the network).
In particular, the project specified the following
objectives as requirements:
. Establishing GREEN as a central node for the
network
. Expanding the network from three to eight hubs.
. Ensuring the requisite training for hubs to function
effectively
. Endeavour to use the network to the advantage of
the general community (through partnerships with
formal and informal stakeholders and `representatives')
. Developing an effective community-based electronic ìnformation and communication' model.
The project has been supported by the ACACIA
programme within IDRC, a programme promoting the
use of information and communication technologies
for development. The project has located itself within
the ACACIA programme approach which seeks to test
particular methodologies or approaches which themselves feed into a search for national strategies.
A qualitative approach to assessing the output and
impact of the project was adopted. Information
gathering was undertaken through face-to-face interviews (usually in groups), observation and a study of
documents made available on request.
In terms of process, the interviews began with the
staff of GREEN itself, then with INR, and then with
the hubs. Further meetings with GREEN and INR
followed, with another round of visits to the hubs.
Stakeholders were contacted along the way as their
connection to the project became apparent. Independently, interviews took place with GREEN and INR
staff around training and the communication aspects
of the project (the Website and the newsletters). Very
little documentary evidence from the hub organisations has been forthcoming, although the reports
compiled by GREEN itself have been valuable, and
attest to a reasonable flow of information amongst
participants, and to the veracity of the information
gathered in other ways.
As a network of organisations, GREEN exists as a
permanent secretariat, with numerous communitybased affiliates. Prior to the project under review, it
was simply a group of dedicated volunteers who
performed an integrating function across the broad
field of environmental groups and issues. It is only
when the project started that any real institutional
framework was created. Throughout its existence,
GREEN has been under the direction of Sandile
Ndawonde, who became the project manager of
Phase 1, along with Duncan Hay of the INR.
By its very nature then, the project was the
beginning of a process of consolidation and change
in the nature of both GREEN itself, and the organisa-
tions with which it sought to develop the project. The
project is thus less the creation of a network, than the
institutionalisation of a set of relationships which had
existed for some time, and which were born of
voluntary activism in the field of environmental
problems facing the black communities in and around
Pietermaritzburg.
GREEN has had to play a difficult role: not only has
it the responsibility of ensuring an organisationally
coherent set of practices (which implies authority),
but it has also been responsible for the social
economy of the network: continuing the relationship
building begun before the project began, and maintaining good human relations amongst participants
(when in reality it had no authority).
The INR however, is a professional research and
facilitation organisation, and owes its existence to
securing contracts in the broad field of development.
While a number of INR staff have been involved in the
project, Duncan Hay has been the central figure. His
overall impression of the start-up period is of institution building across the network (administrative
systems, computer skilling, report/proposal writing
and so on). His ability to marshal the training expertise
and provide institutional support through his own
network of contacts and service providers is reflected
in his understanding of the significant achievements
of this phase.
Looking at the network of hubs provides one with a
framework with which to consider the social economy
of the network. While Phase 1 was the implementation of an electronic network, this was built on
informal contacts which were moulded into a form
of organisation, not in a formal sense, with a range of
organisational requirements for functioning: administration, financial management, learning (through
training) and the sharing of information through the
use of the technology. This required a form of
surveillance and monitoring whose success was
reliant on the informal `togetherness' of a group of
individuals.
Transforming a group of activists into a structure
without rules is a complicated process, and one which
remains in process today. The role of INR in this
process has been negligible, by virtue of the fact that
Duncan Hay acted as a facilitator in bringing the
project into existence, but played no role in its social
economy. The fact is, not all the hubs are in the hands
of those initially part of the project, and GREEN (and
Sandile Ndawonde in particular) has had to maintain
an organisation without rules at the same time as the
informal network has changed. The Sobantu Environmental Desk, the Woodlands Environmental Forum
and the Willowfontein Youth Development Forum
have retained people who were part of the initial
project, but the Vulindlela and Georgetown hubs are
now `staffed' by new recruits to their own respective
organisations.
The GREEN network is central to the broader
network of CBOs and NGOs in Pietermaritzburg
encompassing as it does the environmental groups
(such as EJNF, Earthlife and the Agenda 21 group)
and others, such as HIV/Aids groups. Brian Bassett,
the City Planner views GREEN as one of the most
important groups ìnterfacing with the community',
and òne of the most trustworthy groups in the
Pietermaritzburg area'.
All the hubs are situated in and around Pietermaritzburg, in poor communities with little access to
organisational resources (conduits for action). All the
hubs have had to deal with the question of how best
to balance the use of technology (organisational, or
profit making, from CVs, typing and printing) and
think through the implications of these choices. The
central question facing hubs today is how best to
translate the skills and experience developed organisationally through their own activities and those
associated with the start up period into projects
which will sustain the organisations into the future.
Sobantu
The Sobantu hub is managed by the Sobantu
Environmental Desk (SED), in a smallish African area
(close to town) with a long history of political
activism. This is the hub that was already computerised before start-up, on the basis of the relationship
that existed between Sipho Kubheka and INR prior to
1998. The hub has been an integral part of the
network (both informal and formal) for some time,
and Sipho is now an employee of GREEN. The SED
itself is a fairly busy organisation (+ 40 volunteers)
and has been active in a number of ways: recycling/
bottle collection (on the basis of which they received
a grant in mid-2000 from LIFE), environmental
awareness in schools, developing a People's Park,
clean-up campaigns (for which they have received
small grants from the council), and community workshops and so forth. It is housed in a secure office in
Sobantu which is provided free of charge by the
Msunduzi Council.
The organisation has at least ten members who are
able to use the computer, and the technology is
regarded as an important infrastructure for the
organisation, both in terms of accessing information
and communicating with others on the network, but
also as a potential source of income. Some CVs are
done, and an application has been sent to the
Universal Service Agency to set up a mini telecentre.
Some of the problems faced by the hub include: a
situation in which a member of the development
committee wanted to assume control of the facility
(but this was resolved); dependence on the support of
the local councillor for maintaining the space (and
expanding it); competing demands of the community
(other organisations) and their own work.
From a network point of view, the links remain
solid, but these are primarily face to face and
telephonic. The hub (and the organisation itself) is
firmly part of the social economy of the network. Like
all the organisations involved in the project, the Desk
worries about money, and sustainability.
Woodlands
This hub is operated by the Woodlands Environmental
Action Desk, and is housed in the Community
47
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002)
Support Centre which also acts as a base for other
activities. This is the only hub operating in a nonAfrican area. Organisationally, it has never been
strong, with a succession of volunteers and projects,
which have never really coalesced. At present there
are a number of projects in the pipeline (including a
Safe Community Project; a Job and Economic
Empowerment Program; a Youth Desk; Women in
Action) and ongoing Community Development Seminars. No independently funded projects are operational.
The hub is very much part of the social economy of
the network, with strong links to GREEN (who are
supporting an ongoing proposal-writing effort with
the hub). There is a measure of frustration at the lack
of community interest and participation.
central node of a network of electronically connected
hubs. It has well-situated, secure and convivial
premises; a dedicated staff of three people; appropriate management, financial and administrative systems, and appropriate technological support.
Furthermore, GREEN has consolidated itself as the
pre-eminent NGO in the environmental arena (with
the decline of Earthlife and EJNF).
Willowfontein
. All have secure and stable premises with functioning network capability.
. All have received appropriate training with regard to
communicating electronically, and maintaining the
infrastructure of the organisation.
. All but one have solid organisational underpinning.
. All but one act as the offices of organisations which
have secured their own funding.
. All play an active role in maintaining the organisational network that is GREEN.
The Willowfontein hub is operated by the Willowfontein Youth Development Forum, and is located in a
secure building on the premises of an old school in the
semi rural Edendale valley. It is an area with a high
level of political mobilisation, and the Youth Forum is
an integral part of this. This group is energetic and
outward looking, trying to establish a library close to
the centre, and engaging in a range of other
community-based activities.
Independent support has been generated through a
Land Care Project, funded by the Department of
Agriculture.
Georgetown
The Georgetown hub is operated by the Edendale
Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA) and is
located in the new Georgetown library building where
the council provides free office space. This hub was
originally located elsewhere, but after a burglary
found the present accommodation.
The hub operators are young and are currently
employed as field assistants on a Land Care Project
which is supported by the Department of Agriculture.
Vulindlela
This hub is housed in a private dwelling in a semi-rural
area about 40 minutes outside Pietermaritzburg in a
politically contested area. The driving force behind the
hub has been an elderly community activist involved
in a range of activities with local women (collectively
known as the Khanysani Agricultural Project). The
hub has relocated once, and did have difficulty reconnecting with the network until a wireless telephone line had recently been installed.
3.2.1 Establishing GREEN as a central node of
the network
It is only possible to answer this question retrospectively, through perceptions from participants, and
observation of the organisation as it exists today.
Notwithstanding the over-reliance on IDRC funding (an issue which affected the transition from
Phase 1 to Phase 2), GREEN now exists as a secure
48
3.2.3 Expanding the network into a series of
computer-equipped and connected hubs
At present there are five hubs, all of which have been
in existence since the beginning of the project (albeit
under different circumstances), located in Woodlands,
Vulindlela, Willowfontein, Sobantu and Georgetown.
These hubs have the following characteristics:
3.2.4 Ensure that hubs are able to function
effectively
While this objective refers primarily to the necessary
training required for successful electronic networking
(which has been achieved), it raises the more
important question regarding the organisational efficacy of the hub, in the light of the overarching
commitment to contributing to development and
environmental awareness/action.
Without being able to fully evaluate each and every
project undertaken by the hub host, it is not that clear
whether this aim has been achieved.
3.2.5 Endeavour to use the network to the
advantage of the general community
(through partnerships with formal and
informal stakeholders and representatives)
There are two central questions that arise when
attempting to evaluate this objective.
Firstly, to assess the extent to which the hub host
organisation itself has attempted to use the network,
which is an organisational and technical question. As
can be seen in the section below on the Website
component of the network, the Website per se did not
displace more traditional forms of communication
across the hub organisations, but did contribute to the
identity of the network, and provided the foundation
for the receipt of resources (such as training and
financial support for connections from GREEN and
INR) which provided the necessary infrastructure for
other projects. However, with limited funds, the hub
hosts were, during the duration of Phase 1, encour-
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (49±59)
aged to carry their own connection costs (after a
number of hubs ran up large telephone bills).
Secondly, to assess the impact of the hub host
organisations on the general community. This has
been a difficult question to answer, as the evaluation
has not really provided a platform for analysing their
activities in any detail. However, no perceptions were
encountered amongst stakeholders that suggest hub
host organisations were doing anything but their best.
The problem lies in the long linkage chains emanating
from the hub host organisation. For example, the
Georgetown hub hosts are running a Land Care
project through the Department of Agriculture involving a group of women. None of these women can be
thought of as direct beneficiaries of a communication
and information network, although they are clearly
benefiting from the linkages with Phase 1 (inasmuch
as the land care project proposals have been facilitated by Duncan Hay at INR).
In terms of the stakeholders, the name given
generally to those people or organisations worked
with on a regular basis, the emphasis has been on
officials within local government structures and
service providers. All the individuals contacted within
organisations, such as local council officials (planning, waste management etc), Parks Board officials
and Umgeni Water attest to the important role played
by GREEN or hub organisations.
3.2.6 Developing an effective communitybased electronic ìnformation and communication' model
It is quite clear that there is nothing like a community
information network established. There is no right of
access òff the street' to electronic communication
systems, and only marginal access for individuals to
access information from the Internet for example.
3.2.7 Overview of external communication
tools
The project had as some of its key specific objectives:
. Representatives of participating organisations
transferring their understanding of environment
and development issues to the broader community.
. Information on environmental and development
issues in the Msunduzi River catchment consolidated and made accessible and understandable to
communities.
. Formulated, tested and validated electronic information and communication model that focuses on
community groups and can be applied broadly at
local and regional level and that informs a national
strategy.
The project used a number of methods to transfer
information. Two of the methods used for both
internal and external communication and information
sharing were the development of a Website and the
production and distribution of newsletters. The
project successfully managed to put in place both
these communication tools during Phase 1, in line
with their planned activities and goals.
The extent to which these communication tools
assisted in effectively meeting specific objectives of
the project is less clear. The key problem that is being
recognised and articulated by the project coordinators
when reflecting on Phase 1, is around the purpose of
information sharing. The following questions were not
effectively answered at the outset:
. What kinds of information needs to be shared?
. Who does particular information need to be shared
with?
. What is the purpose of sharing that information
with a particular target group?
. What method would be most appropriate for
sharing specific information, with a specific group,
for a specific purpose?
The project did share information about its work,
about environmental and development issues and
about networking with a range of target audiences
through a range of methods, yet the potential of each
method was not fully utilised. The result of this has
been that these methods have not been effectively
reviewed, developed and restructured into more
appropriate tools in the later phases of the project. It
has been difficult for the project to do this as the
reason for each method used having limited effect,
was not immediately clear.
3.2.8 The Website as a communication tool
The development of a Website, or cluster of Websites,
for the project was a fundamental part of Phase 1. By
the end of the project a Website at www.duzi.co.za
had been created which included linked pages of each
of the five operational hubs, a project information
page and links to the partner organisation's Websites.
This was a substantial achievement given the lack of
infrastructure and skills which existed at the outset of
the project. It is difficult to assess the extent to which
the Website has been effective in achieving its aim as
no clear purpose was initially identified within the
project objectives. The project identified the need to
use a Website as a communication tool from the
outset, and set about getting the site up and running.
It is only in retrospect that the project coordinators are
beginning to question what it was that they were
attempting to achieve by doing this.
3.2.9 The purpose of the Website
What is unclear about the development of the Website
is to which project objective it related. The project
coordinators have differing impressions as to why the
Website was initially created, what its purpose was,
and therefore whether it has been an effective
communication tool or not. It seems that there was a
general acceptance that using a Website to share
information was the only clear and common understanding of why it should be developed. The reasons
given by the project coordinators for the establishment of the Website were as follows:
49
. It would improve communication thereby supporting the improvement of the environment of the
catchment area.
. In generating information it would develop skills.
. It was an important way to view one another's
information.
. It would create a sense of pride and identity for the
hubs.
. Communication through the Web had not been
done before around these issues so it would be
unique.
. It was merely one of a range of communication
tools being used by the project.
There was no initial discussion around who the
target audience of the Website would be, and what
purpose posting information would have. There was
an assumption, which was not necessarily even
articulated, that hubs should post information about
their work which would be useful to the other hubs in
the project, similar organisations and any interested
browsers globally.
3.2.10 The process of development
In developing the Website, the project team attempted
to follow a thorough planning process. Each hub met
individually to decide what information should be
posted on their site. There was discussion around
branding and creating a clear individual identity for
each hub, which related to the issue of catchment
management which concerned the hub.
This process worked well with the results being that
each hub had a clear idea of what they wanted their
site to look like and what information it should
contain. The discussions around content of the sites
centred on what information they had available and
what it was that they wanted to share with the other
hubs. There was limited, if any, discussion about who
would be viewing their sites, and why particular
information was important to share.
Most of the hubs initially wanted their sites to
contain photographs of the team along with other
information. This indicates their need to use the
Website to establish their own identities as organisations.
3.2.11 Crucial issues to note that have emerged
from the evaluation.
The social economy of the network (the relations
amongst and between hubs and the central node,
GREEN) has remained intact despite the electronic
connectivity being interrupted from time to time.
The social economy of the network owes much to
the dedication of the GREEN animators, and its
connection to a broad range of organisations which
go beyond purely environmental issues.
The social economy of the network still relies
heavily on face-to-face interaction, as does the
transfer of skills (through the mobility of significant
individuals involved with GREEN).
The nature of the communities within which the
hubs are situated has created a number of problems.
50
The tensions generated between the imperative of
hub sustainability and the goal of information sharing
have created some uncertainty with regard to the
primary focus of organisations.
The hubs have not really provided a public service,
and consequently have not developed into public
access points for information sharing.
Stakeholders have provided favourable reports on
the network, although these are often related to the
specific organisations responsible for hubs.
The development of skills has resulted in some
losses to the network, although this has not affected
the operation of hubs per se.
There have been a number of problems associated
with the specific communicative aspect of the project
(eg the Website, training for use of Internet, publications).
There have been a number of problems associated
with managing the connectivity (excessive phone bills
and ISP costs).
On completion of Phase 1 there was a hiatus of
about six months before funding for Phase 2 came
through. Both GREEN and INR felt that this hiatus
created a number of problems, although it is not clear
how this situation came about. During this period the
network effectively ceased to function, debts were
incurred and the momentum created in Phase 1 was
lost. People had to find other ways to live.
Phase 2 also saw a change in the nature of the
collaboration between INR and GREEN. INR took on
the responsibility for training, with GREEN taking
more responsibility for the management of the network. This shift has not been easy as the tension
between sustaining the network and building capacity, both essential ingredients for success, were
driven farther apart.
The experience of having to rebuild the network
(not as a social entity, but as a collection of
functioning hubs) has also been the impetus to
develop strategies for the sustainability of individual
hubs, and it is during Phase 2 that one sees the
emergence of independently funded projects associated with organisations responsible for hubs (as in
the land care projects, LIFE project) and the growing
emphasis on generating funds (preparation of business plans, fund-raising training and the setting up of
a training centre in GREEN itself).
This scenario exacerbates some of the earlier
tensions: as people in the hubs are increasingly under
pressure to find alternative sources of funding, so too
their commitment to developing the network with the
primary aim of creating an environmental network
with community access is also under pressure.
3.2.12 Lessons learnt
Participants
The major stumbling block to assessing learning
amongst participants in the project is that of perspective. There is no coherent measure of how much the
various hub operators have really learnt, both in terms
of the technology and in terms of application. A
thorough and careful audit of skills should have been
conducted early on and monitored throughout. This is
not simply a question of skills, however, but of the
interest and exploration that individuals express and
display. Have they become real intermediaries and
information seekers, and do they know what to do
with information and how it may be useful to
somebody else? There is no doubt that some
individuals have good skills, but are they transferable?
Clearly, the active members of GREEN have become
multi-skilled, and act as ìnfomediaries', and have
become indispensable to the network as a whole as
`problem solvers' and ìntelligence dispensers'. They
have ideas and actively seek to make things happen.
However, this is not an automatic result of the
network, but strongly dependent on commitment and
motivation. As the hub organisations become drawn
into the mire of sustainability, and the preparation of
proposals and activities associated with the projects
they establish, this flexibility and enthusiasm for the
technology may be diluted. But not always.
It is important that such people remain close to the
network, and are not simply àccessed' from time to
time when a job needs doing. The whole ICT
phenomenon, in the context of development, bears
testimony to this. While it may be unavoidable to
require the services of multi-skilled individuals, the
real question is: How can these people be more
systematically enrolled into the social economy of the
network? I believe that the partnership between
GREEN and INR was appropriate to kick-start the
project, but will eventually tail off as their different
trajectories take them in different directions.
3.2.13 Information and communication
Phase 1 established the infrastructure of the network
as a `communicative community', adding a new
dimension to the existing social network. The addition
of e-mail in particular, provided new contact opportunities, but brought with it new challenges (mainly
costs, but also new forms of self-discipline). The Web
pages too provided a broader canvas for the network,
but created a far larger hurdle: how to mesh the
possibilities inherent in the new accessibility of
information with both the foundations of the project
(the flood crisis of 1995) and the diversity of interests
inherent in a network rooted in quite different
communities, with different organisational capabilities.
The most obvious success in this regard is the status
of having an electronic network up and running, both
from the point of view of the identity of the network
and its position vis-aÁ-vis local organisations (both
formal and informal). There is a sense in which having
a Web page was enough. The problem of making the
Internet really useful has waxed and waned, but the
capacity has always been a strength of the network.
It is also clear that the connectivity also reconfigured the hub organisations with reference to other
NGOs and CBOs, adding something to the sector as a
whole, which, in a period of declining civil society
momentum, is an important outcome.
Good examples of the usefulness of Internet access
have been provided, but they tend to be associated
with a clarity of organisational purpose rather than a
general meeting of minds (the issue of information on
recycling for example). Some strong partnerships
have developed, but only when a clarity on 'need'
has been established.
4 DISCUSSION
There are two central issues which bear on the above
cases, and which draws attention to the problem of
theory, and away from the continuous descriptive
perspective that haunts all efforts to understand the
telecentre phenomenon and other initiatives that seek
to use ICTs for development.
These are the twin notions of affordances and
culture, and both are significant if new technologies,
and their representation, are considered as revolutionising social life.
Firstly, Dursteler (n.d.) defines affordances as the
possibilities that an object or environment offers (or
appears to offer) in order to perform an action upon it.
The concept of àffordance' was introduced by the
theorist of perception, J J Gibson in order to designate the possibilities of action that an object or
environment offers (or one perceives that it offers).
Gibson, unlike many theorists of his time, considered
that the way the world is perceived is orientated
towards acting upon the environment.
This concept has been developed by Hutchby
(2001) in his efforts to explore the relationship
between forms of technology and structures of social
interaction. Beginning by arguing against the view
that a technology has no intrinsic properties, and
becomes ùseful' only through a process of negotiation and rhetoric, Hutchby suggests that technologies
do have intrinsic capabilities, which emerge in the
context of encountering them (2001:26).
In the case of new ICTs at a telecentre, for example,
the affordances are partially material and partially
representations. The computer cannot be used as a
bicycle, which attests to its functional affordances,
but it can be used as a way of saying something about
a community (even if it does not work, the computer
may be invoked as a status symbol or a rhetorical
signifier of modernity). This author's experience (and
that of Wilson (2001)) indicate that the majority of
ùsers' are not able to say exactly what the computers
can do for them (particularly the Internet). Indeed,
most people in the community do not know what
information they lack. The work conducted at another
MPCC site (Mbazwana) indicates clearly that information needs cannot be separated from the general
way in which the community is organised, and the
role of traditional authorities in particular.
Affordances are not simply constructions of individuals, however, for as Rubinstein (2001:139) argues,
there are collective practices which enable things as
opportunities; they emerge within a form of life.
Furthermore, the concept can be extended to culture
as well, insofar as culture itself is an affordance.
Cultural objects can be defined in different ways. For
example, at Bhamshela where there is currently no
51
electricity, the computers are nevertheless being used
for `training': a charming ruse for a group of seven
women to get together regularly. This view goes
beyond sociological thinking which sees opportunity
as mediated by cultural capital or cultural equipment,
to a point at which actors deploy culture. Cultural
capital is not a resource that one has or lacks, it is a
resource that can be used to engage the world.
This is a view that is quite different from the more
institutional perspective that dominates the current
discourse of ìnformation for development'. For
example, Stavrou (2001), in his work on information
for underdeveloped communities, suggests that `contextually relevant, easily accessible and affordable
information should reduce uncertainty' and, `for
groups who do not have access to information, the
outcome is a dramatic increase in the transaction cost
component of any economic activity and a drastic
decrease in their ability to exercise their social and
political rights' (Stavrou 2001). This perspective is
well summarised by Stavrou again, when he argues
`the current view should be that information is
central to the solution of any society's economic and
social problems, and as such should be regarded as a
factor of production'.
Colle and Roman (2002:6) echo Gillwald when
they suggest òne of our biggest challenges is
providing relevant information and services for [its]
stakeholders. Organizations are working on content
problems, but much of the information available via
electronic networks may not meet communities' needs
for local and localised information'. But this begs the
question: what information (electronic or not) are we
to make available if we do not know its affordances, it
is potentialities, for ordinary people? Gomez
(2002:17) is insistent that `there is no magic formula
to concoct the right conditions that make ICTs
meaningful for human development'.
Hutchby (2001:206) is also quite clear on this
matter when he argues that, `[t]echnologies do not
impose themselves on society, mechanistically altering the pattern of human relations and social
structures. Neither does human agency encounter
technologies as blank states. Technologies do not
make humans; but humans make what they do of
technologies in the interface between the organized
practices of human conversation and the technology's
array of communicative affordances'.
One can begin to unpack the affordances of ICTs as
they emerge from these two case studies, in only a
very partial way as it is only through the study that one
gradually comes to this point.
In Bhamshela, the telecentre does offer concrete
possibilities for instrumental use of a range of services
(eg telephones, faxes, printing, and television), but
also a range of affordances:
. for politically motivated individuals to further their
interests
. for new collectivities to form
. for new circuits of information (networks) to be
created
. for a new vision of hope.
52
This author does not know what they are, and is
certainly no more enlightened by the descriptive
`research' which counts telephone calls, measures
distances, elicits wish lists and examines profitability.
For the Msunduzi Network, it is clearer: affordances
for those within the organisational parameters of the
network include:
. access to donor funding
. consolidation of personal networks through rapid
communication
. filling the gap left by political activism
. insertion into a status hierarchy
. increasing job opportunities.
This notion of affordances does open up some
interesting possibilities, but poses an enormous
challenge to researchers: a challenge that goes
beyond identifying `best practice' and saluting determined entrepreneurial managers. Most information
needs as expressed in poor communities refer to rights
or services, but one must still ask the question: Who
participates and in what way, other than as consumers, in the revolution offered by ICTs.
5 CULTURE
Culture in the South African context is a problematic
concept. It is so bound up with the history of
oppression and the founding perspective of apartheid
as to render it razor sharp. Crane Soudien (2001:147)
refers to Neville Alexander's view that the envisaged
Commission on the Rights of Cultural Groups is
constitutionalising ethnic politics in an ideological
climate where culture has become synonymous with
race. The dream of a post-apartheid social identity,
constructed to retain aspects of indigenous culture
but overlaid with a national commitment to the new
South Africa cannot easily escape from the legacy of
group realities and experiences based on day-to-day
life in a highly unequal and spatially divided society.
Nevertheless, if one is to consider culture as an
affordance which is linked to opportunity, one cannot
avoid looking into the norms, values and dispositions
that provide the grammar of sociality and action.
The old `dominant paradigm' of communication for
development represented culture as foundational (in
line with the Parsonian tradition), and argued for the
sweeping away of anachronistic cultural features as a
precondition for modernisation. The new perspective,
underpinned by a rational choice perspective of homo
economicus avoids the issue of culture altogether,
invoking instead the notion of social capital as the
institutional framework of social action.
The `hard' participatory model of communication for
social change, however, starts with culture and uses a
broad definition of `way of life' to open the door to
authentic communication. Chin (2000:26) encapsulates this perspective well when arguing `to lose one's
cultural identity therefore is to be deprived of an
opportunity to develop on one's own terms'.
A way needs to be found between these two poles:
the `cultureless' rational actor for whom information is
a cost-benefit, and the `cultureful' actor whose
opportunities and needs are necessarily subservient to
a form of life. Both approaches are profoundly
disrespectful of the complexities of sociality and the
mechanisms and processes of social action.
6 CONCLUSIONS
I have tried to do two things: firstly say something
about the policy environment within which the
telecentre initiative has unfolded. There remains some
debate about the nature of the policy, but there is no
doubt that the implementation has not yet shown
many signs of success. More significantly perhaps is
the lip service paid to participation and the construction of the telecentre participants as ùsers' and
consumers, rather than as actors negotiating culture
and opportunity.
Secondly, I have tried to inject another perspective
into the way we might theoretically begin to untangle
the threads that make up the phenomenon of ICTs in a
developing context.
Hutchby's comment that, `this third way between
the (constructivist) emphasis on the shaping power of
human agency and the (determinist) emphasis on the
constraining power of technical capacities has enabled me to argue that the affordances of technological media for interaction shape the nature of
sociality' (2001:194) could also provide a starting
point in a new evaluation of the role ICT's could play
in disadvantaged contexts.
Furthermore, such an orientation could make a
significant impact on the scientism and largely
descriptive assessments of ICT impact, by broadening
the notion of participation beyond its immediate
political connotations (organisational). The phrenosis, the ethical and practical understanding of social
action, is a project, and as such must seek a space on
the agenda which currently dominates the ICT
phenomenon: that new information and communication technologies will revolutionise social life.
REFERENCES
Benjamin, P. 2001. Northern province community information needs study. Available at www.sn.apc.org/community
Benjamin, P. 2002. Telecentres in South Africa. The Journal of Development Communication. Vol 12 (2) 2001.
Benjamin, P and Stavrou, I. 2000. Telecentre 2000 Synthesis Report. Available at www.sn.apc.org/community.
Business Day 18 September 2000.
Chin, Y S. 2000. Development communication in Asia. In Walking on the other side of the information highway: Communication,
culture and development in the 21st century, ed. J Servaas, Penang: Southbound.
Chisenga, J. 2001. Facing the digital divide: ensuring access to digital information in sub-Saharan Africa. Paper presented at the
Library and Information Association of South Africa's (LIASA) 4th annual conference on Àfrican Renaissance Through
Libraries'. September 2001. Johannesburg, South Africa.
Colle, R D and Roman, R. 2002. The Telecentre environment in 2002. The Journal of Development Communication. 12 (2) 2001.
Dursteler, J C n.d. Affordances. InfoVis.net. no 72.
Espitia, D. 2001. Community ICT survey. Available at www.sn.apc.org/community.
Flyvberg, B. 2001. Making social science matter. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Gillwald, A. 2001. Building Castells in the ether. In ed J Muller, N Cloete, and S Badat. Challenges to Globalisation: South
African debates with Manuel Castells, Cape Town: Maskew Miller Longman.
Heeks, R. 1999. Information and communication technologies, poverty and development. Institute for development policy and
management, University of Manchester. Available at http://idpm.man.ac.uk/idpm/diwpf5.htm
Hutchby, I. 2001. Conversation and technology: From the telephone to the Internet. Cambridge: Polity.
James, T. ed. 2001. An information policy handbook for Southern Africa. Ottawa: International Development Research Centre.
Rubinstein, D. 2001. Culture, Structure and agency: Toward a truly multidimensional society. London: Sage.
Soudien, C. 2001. Re-imagining, remaking or imposing identity. In Challenges to Globalisation: South African debates with
Manuel Castells, ed J Muller, N Cloete, S Badat. Cape Town: Maskew Miller Longman.
Stavrou, I. 2001. Information for underdeveloped communities. Paper presented at the IDRC Telecentre Learning Workshop.
Johannesburg.
Van Audenhove. 1999. South Africa's information society policy: an overview. Communicatio 25(1 & 2).
Wilson, M. 2001. Information and communication technology, development and the production of Ìnformation poverty.
Unpublished MPhil Thesis, Oxford University.
53
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (54±61)
Information, communication and transformation:
a South African perspective
Ned Kekana*
ABSTRACT
The growth of the South African information and
communication technology (ICT) sector has been phenomenal in the past four years. Although the global ICT
sector has suffered setbacks in the past few months
because of the dramatic loss of technology stocks in world
markets, South Africa's ICT is set to improve due to a still
massive unmet demand for ICT services in the country.
South Africa must seize the opportunity to leapfrog into
an information society, while not repeating the mistakes of
the developing economies. South Africa has opted for a
managed liberalisation of the economy. The telecommunications sector is gradually being opened to competition
while ensuring the optimum use of existing investments in
the sector. This article argues that while liberalising
telecommunications, it remains important that state assets
such as Telkom, the telecommunications parastatal,
should remain in the hands of the state in order to serve
public interest. Wholesale privatisation of state assets is
not the solution for South Africa, but to build global
dreams needs global architects. Unless South Africa joins
the global architects of the information society, the quality
of life of its citizens will remain poor. This then makes
privatisation a necessity as it brings huge revenue to state
coffers in order to deliver much-needed services. This
article also argues that the success of the implementation
of South Africa's ICT policies relies mainly on the
stability and viability of the sector regulator, the
Independent Communications Authority of South Africa
(ICASA).
1 INTRODUCTION
The Information and Communication Technology
(ICT) sector has emerged as one of the epoch-defining
sectors in the world today. The last ten years may be
regarded as the fastest penetration of consumer
technology in human history. Ìt has taken 4 years for
the World Wide Web to reach 50 million users,
compared with 13 years for television and 38 years for
radio'.1 Unprecedented advances in technology have
enabled many countries to address their problems and
to improve the quality of life of citizens. South Africa,
like other developing countries, must utilise the ICT to
achieve its national objectives, improve the health
system, create jobs and provide quality education.
Despite the widespread excitement about new technologies and their prospects for building a connected
society, a lot still needs to happen.
Recently, the ICT sector suffered serious setbacks
because of the dramatic loss of technology stocks in
world markets. The consequent shedding of jobs by
large corporations is attributed to the bubble burst of
the ICT market. The failure of the Global Mobile
Personal Communication Service (GMPCS) initiatives and the dot.com companies further compounded
the anxiety of investors and shareholders about the
future of information communication technology. In
Europe, 3G auction fervour cost telecommunications
companies dearly. Companies had spent huge budgets on future technologies without properly analysing and understanding the needs of end users and
consumers. Although it made perfect sense to the
`futurists' in these companies to buy third generation
spectrum licences at auctions, they had failed to
understand the needs of the end user.
Last year, at a high level conference on the
regulation of global markets, the International Organisation of Security Commissions explained that `the
euphoria over the new economy might have caused
market professionals to lose their perspective' and to
compromise the judgement they normally provide to
the market place and investors.2 Today, ICT companies the driving force behind the information society ±
are struggling to run lucrative businesses. Clearly, the
hype has been premature, as the movement from
industrial to information society has not materialised
at the pace they had anticipated. It has recently been
reported that there is a significant danger of a global
recession and, combined with market turbulence, this
might be particularly severe for developing countries.3
The critics of the devotee school of thought argue
that the benefit of the information society is greatly
exaggerated.4 The information society is not a solution to unemployment, it demands high level skills,
* Ned Kekana is Chair of the Portfolio Committee on Communication, South African Parliament. This article is printed with the
permission of the International Research Seminar on Political Economy of the Southern African Media, coordinated by the
Southern African and South-South Working Group on Media, Culture and Communication, coordinated through the Graduate
Programme in Cultural and Media Studies, University of Natal, Durban. Kekana's paper was presented at the Seminar's 2nd
Annual Independent Newspapers Lecture on Media Freedom, at the University of Natal, September 2001.
54
and criminal acts such as money laundering and other
computer crimes reflect the ills of a globally connected
world.
However, the information society is a reality, and
the ICT sector is a product of history' circumstances
and development.5 It is critical that all countries
benefit from the opportunities of the information
society. The technology gap between the developed
countries and the less developed countries must be
narrowed and closed.
South Africa must seize the initiative and leapfrog
into the future without repeating the mistakes of
developed economies. `Developing countries can no
longer expect to base their development on their
comparative labour advantage, that is, on cheap
industrial labour. The comparative advantage that now
counts is application of knowledge6. Developing
countries must refuse to be mere importers and
consumers of high-technology products; they must be
involved in their design and production. The flows of
foreign direct investment in the country, however,
require a clear and stable legal regulatory environment.
2 A NEW ERA IN TELECOMMUNICATION(S)
South Africa has opted for a managed liberalisation of
the economy and the telecommunications sector is
gradually being opened to competition while ensuring
the optimum utilisation of existing investments in the
sector. There is a saying that it is sometimes better to
walk than to run. A big bang approach will open the
sector quickly and offer many services from different
network operators, but this approach is likely to erode
South Africa's public and private investments. The
dramatic drop in the share price of M-Cell, where they
lost R6 billion soon after the initial announcement that
government would open the telecommunications
market to two competitors for Telkom, is a clear
indication of the need to adopt a gradual approach.
The delay in the listing of Telkom is mainly due to the
poor performance of the telecommunications stocks in
world markets. The ICT sector is pressured but still
growing and the listing should still go ahead in the
2002/3 financial year, but the market is not going to
guarantee that Telkom will remain in South African
hands. The removal of the foreign ownership cap of
49 per cent from the final policy leaves room for foreign
shareholders to take over a national asset. Unless South
African nationals buy Telkom shares, it is likely to be
dominated by foreign shareholders. The recent stand off
between Primedia shareholders from South Africa and
those from the United Kingdom is a glaring case.
The recent telecommunications policy is recognition of the importance of ICT in the development of
South Africa. The policies embrace the influence of
the convergence of technologies and the postindustrial, knowledge-based global economy on
South Africa's development. The biggest test lies in
how these new policies are going to benefit the users
of telecommunications services.
While the telecommunications companies are more
orientated towards shareholder value, policy makers
seek to create a consumer-friendly, technology-neutral
policy environment where connectivity is available at an
affordable price anywhere, anytime and anyhow.
Telkom has enjoyed monopoly status for many
years as the sole provide of telecommunications
services. This monopolist environment meant very
little price difference to the end users of services. The
new policies are naturally regarded as friendly to
Telkom and not favourable to other operators.
Although three players will have been better than
the current policy position ± which sees Telkom, the
Second National Operator (SNO) and Sentech offering only international service ± there is a direct benefit
limiting the number of entrants for a transitional
period. If the market were simply opened up, this
could result in a number of small players entering the
field who would not be able to shake the dominant
position of Telkom.
An oligopolistic market is unlikely to provide price
competition and smaller players keep profits high to
the benefit of all of them..7 There is no doubt that
competition will in the long run lead to a better quality
of service, lower prices and the expansion of the
network. However, incumbent operators must achieve
competition in a controlled market place because it is
also difficult to monitor any uncompetitive behaviour.
It is easier for the regulator to deal with the possible
misuse of market power by Telkom in a controlled
market place.
Experience has shown that it is difficult to distinguish between anti-competitive behaviour and vigorous competition from a dominant player. In the last
two years the fight over bandwidth and resale
between Telkom and VANS/ISP is a case in point,
where it is difficult even to convince the courts that
Telkom could be abusing its dominant position.
Dominant players in the market tend to delay
decisions that are not favourable by using litigation.
Other benefits to the country include the creation of
a common public emergency service with a common
number, 112, and a platform for an integrated approach
to disaster management and emergencies. This will
integrate the current fragmented emergency services in
different municipalities. Many communities that did
not benefit in the past will have access to the public
emergency centres and services. Although calls to this
emergency centre will be free of charge, the cost of
running this unified system will be borne largely by
municipalities. Central government has allocated R80
million as start-up capital to build the centres throughout the country. The weakness of the new telecommunications policy regarding competition is the late
introduction of pre-selection where consumers have a
choice in selecting a network for their call. Consumer
choice is at the heart of competition, if consumers have
different providers of services and can readily change
operators when there is a pricing difference, that is
competition. It makes sense for carrier pre-selection to
be available sooner to benefit existing subscribers. A
duopoly is less likely to lead to fierce price wars ± it is
only in the international gateway where prices might
drop. The drop in the airline prices in the lucrative
Johannesburg±Cape Town route is a good example of
a price war sparked by the introduction of a third player.
The policy creates opportunities for small, micro
and medium enterprises (SMMEs) in certain local
areas. In areas were there is a teledensity of less than
five per cent ± mainly in small towns ± SMMEs will
have an opportunity to use the latest technologies to
provide services direct to homes. The networking of a
55
highly populated area will enable SMME operators to
make huge gains without spending more on network
expansion.
However, unless the regulator is able to determine
case-by-case the status and viability of the business
model for the networking of a designated area, big
companies might use SMMEs as fronts and enter the
local market through the back door. The financing of
the SMMEs is also crucial if local areas are not going
to be expensive experiments of ventures that fail.
The use of GSM technology for the local loop in a
highly concentrated area is more likely to be worthwhile to local operators. Wireless technologies have
the advantage of being easier to deploy and maintained, and once the initial capital on infrastructure is
spent, revenue derived from calls will flow.
3 WHEN IS RESTRUCTURING WHOLESALE
PRIVATISATION?
Over the years, Telkom has undergone various stages
of transformation. The most significant was when it
acquired a strategic equity partner, Thintana ± which
is a consortium made up of the Southwestern Bell
SBC and Malaysia Telkom. The 30 per cent equity
acquired by this consortium brought into South Africa
in the largest amount of foreign direct investment to
the tune of R5.4 billion. It is estimated by analysts that
Telkom alone is worth close to R50 billion including
its stake in Vodacom.
This partnership has also transferred management
skills and technology to the ailing Telkom, which
today is able to deliver on its mandate as a national
carrier. The success of the last five years is proof that
the strategic equity partnership of Telkom has worked.
Telkom like many national operators in developing
countries, was given a period of exclusivity to improve
on universal service targets.
There has been unprecedented rollout of basic
telephony in the country and the building of a modern
digital network. Today, more clinics and schools in
rural areas have access to telephones and this has
contributed to improving communications and service
in these areas.7 These are building blocks for the
future of the country in providing a better life for all.
There have been major developments in the provision
of basic telephony and the modernisation of the South
African telecommunications infrastructure.
The introduction of facility-based competition will
provide the country with the most advanced service
while consolidating existing investments in the sector.
However, opponents of privatisation have recently
stepped up their campaign against the opening of the
South African market to competition. The sale of state
owned assets has raised a storm among unions. It is
necessary to analyse each case and it will be ill advised
to compare the privatisation of water to that of
telecommunications services. The state should continue
to play a major role in the provision of basic services.
Clearly, wholesale privatisation is not the solution
for South Africa; the country cannot afford to deliver
key assets into the hands of foreign investors. The
telecommunications network, a valuable national
asset must remain in the hands of the state.
Experience has shown that the private sector alone
cannot guarantee rapid rollouts of services. Telecom56
munications companies in developing countries need
foreign investments, injection of technology and
management skills to build networks capacity.
Liberalisation must be based on a careful study of
the needs of the country and the adoption of the most
appropriate solutions. Managed liberalisation is suitable for South Africa. The big bang approach did not
work in India where cellular licences were auctioned
to 22 firms in 42 regions. Poor regulation, an
aggressive incumbent and slow moving government
machinery were some of the contributing factors to
the failure.9
The current capacity of Telkom to roll out universal
service is limited. However, the introduction of
competition will free Telkom from some of the public
service obligations and spread these obligations
evenly between the different service providers. Network operators tend to focus all their attention on the
most profitable telecommunications market segments.
Thus, a fully competitive environment cannot guarantee universal service unless there are clear obligations attached to all licences.
The turnaround of Telkom as a monopoly carrier
with its traditional problems of poor quality of service
and customer care has been remarkable. Although
customers are still experiencing problems, the network
operators have met the various targets set in their
licence condition. The strategic partnership of the
Malaysia Telkom and SBC has repositioned Telkom to
face competition. The success of the ICT sector will be
best measured in the growth and success of the smallmedium sized enterprises and the benefit to the end
users. This opportunity to roll out services to areas that
were overlooked in the past will improve South
Africa's overall teledensity and the country will be
comparable to other middle to high-income countries.
4 UNIVERSAL SERVICE AT AN AFFORDABLE
PRICE
The common thread of our policy mix is the building of
a modern communications network, while remaining
committed to universal service. The restructuring of the
Universal Service Agency (USA) will improve the
capacity to monitor the rollout of services including
the costing and financing of universal services.
The USA and Government Communication and
Information System(GCIS) have identified projects to
improve universal access in rural areas and towns.
Multi-purpose community centres (MPCCs) and
telecentres are set up in rural towns and can offer
people government-related services. MPCCs in an
area could easily service close to 300 people a day.
Where such services are needed, the centres have
enabled many communities to have access to the
latest technologies and many schools have been
exposed to the world of the Internet. The policy
proposal to have a dedicated network called Edu-net
will enable schools and tertiary institutions to be
connected directly to the Internet using satellite
dishes. Public schools are, according to the 2001
South African Telecommunications Amendment Act,
entitled to a 50 per cent discount on all calls to
Internet service providers,
The lack of awareness of services offered by the
telecentre projects is by far the weakness of this
approach to provide access to rural areas. In many of
the projects computers are being used as word
processors and not networked to provide access to
the Internet. The lack of telephone lines to these
projects has also hampered maximum utilisation of the
centres. Where there is a telephone line, the fax is the
most widely used equipment. This project should be
established also in urban areas and towns to build a
greater access to the Internet.
Many rural people had to travel long distances to
gain access to government documents and services.
The launch of the Public Information Terminals (PITs)
has enabled communities to access government
information at the touch of a button. Government is
also investigating ways of offering free Internet access
to people. There has to be more awareness of the
usage of e-mail. Like the telegram, e-mail could be
used in communities to provide instant messaging or a
same day message system. This could be commercially viable, as many people still prefer writing letters,
in addition to verbal communication on the telephone.
The 1996 Telecommunications Act in South Africa,
and also the 2001 Telecommunications Amendment
Act state that network operators such as Telkom and
MTN should provide universal service in the country.
These companies are also forced, through their licence
conditions, to provide this universal service. This is a
liability on them. However, universal service is not a
handout, because consumers pay for telecommunication services they get from these companies. Universal
service is therefore not free of charge, nor is it easy or
cheap for companies to roll out new services to
previously unserviced areas in South Africa. The
electrification of the country has also increased the
demand for electronic goods and services. Many
villages that have received electricity, water and roads
are developing into small towns. With the growing
need for property rights in small rural towns, a lot of
hidden personal capital will be unlocked and many
rural people will have access to finances using their
property as surety.
The historical lower level of penetration of ICT
services in the majority of homes and schools needs to
be improved to build a greater awareness of technology use. The introduction of the latest technologies
depends also on the human element. Users, especially
business, must be technology orientated and aware of
the possibilities of different products from service
providers. Awareness and consumer education are
necessary for the expansion of networks and dynamic
efficiency of the industry.
The regulator should monitor and make it mandatory for network operators to raise awareness of
technology benefits to society. Product awareness
should be included as part of a universal service
obligation. While operators might have a choice to
`play or pay' in the rollout of services to poorer areas or
uneconomic areas, the slant should be encouraging
operators to build networks rather than simply contributing to the universal service fund.
5 UNDERSTANDING THE SOUTH AFRICAN
CONSUMER
The skewed nature in which Telkom also developed
its services was informed by very shallow understanding of the South African market. Delivery was
informed by the racial undertones of an apartheid
state. Unfortunately, many of these distortions continue to this day. The experience of Telkom in using
wireless technology in rural areas increased the rollout
of telephone lines. The usage of the Digital Enhanced
Cordless Telephone (DECT), has, however, not been
highly successful in rural areas mainly due to the
administration of the network and the high installation
cost. Some people living in rural areas cannot afford to
pay for the present telecommunications tariffs set by
Telkom, and this has led to the disconnection of their
lines by Telkom. The policy of disconnecting lines
because of non-payment is not productive for the
network operator. Subscribers must be encouraged at
least to pay line rental until the dispute over billing is
resolved. It is also important to measure the value of a
network by the level of incoming as well as outgoing
calls. Many South Africans are migrant and the
termination of rural phones decreases traffic on the
network from incoming urban calls.
Although the so-called white market is saturated in
that many households have services and goods, it is
often regarded as a fact that some black households
do not have money and are thus not a worthy market.
This generalisation has led to many missed opportunities for business and thus stifled economic growth.
Like the late discovery by the Western countries that
there are a billion consumers in Mainland China, the
black middle class is the most misunderstood consumer of goods and services. Even the advertising
industry still displays the most backward racist
tendencies that disregard the spending power of
high-income groups in black communities.
This misunderstanding of the consumer is illustrated
by the growth and expansion of the cellular market.
The lack of fixed telephone lines in towns such as
Polokwane and Umtata has contributed to the
significant number of people utilising mobile phones.
Even in a place like Soweto were teledensity is less
than five per cent the number of cellular telephones is
high. This is a demonstration that there is a market
even in those areas that have historically being
regarded as uneconomical.
The success of the prepaid card has also illustrated
the importance of research and development in
telecommunications. When prepaid was introduced
more than a year ago, South Africa was one of the first
countries to introduce this service. MTN and Vodacom introduced prepaid and bypassed one of the
biggest obstacles in the economy, the credit bureau.
Until prepaid had been introduced, many people were
unable to qualify for a cellular telephone contract
subscription. It is no wonder that the majority of black
people, even those who are in the high-income
brackets are blacklisted by these credit bureaus. Many
worthy spenders have been declared uncreditworthy
and are not able to participate actively in economic
57
activity. Prepaid technology unlocked this capital and
the cellular operators are reaping the rewards.
An understanding of the South African market and
the lifestyle of the consumer will benefit the economy
directly. There are growth points in the economy that
must be exploited and if companies spent more money
on research and development, there would be greater
awareness of the South African market.
6 MOBILE AND FIXED TIE THE KNOT
The use of wireless technologies has made it possible
to combine different technologies for maximum
benefit to society. Satellite, as a wireless technology
has benefited mainly broadcasters. Todays digital pay
television in South Africa and elsewhere provides
entertainment and information at a larger scale than
terrestrial networks. It does not matter where a soccer
or rugby match is played; viewers expect a crystal
clear picture to be shown live on television. While
satellite might provide cost-effective and efficient
solutions for trans-ocean traffic, the use of the optic
fibre cable, is by far the most reliable and easily
accessible.10 Sentech, as a multimedia signal distributor is now in a better position to provide seamless,
high-speed connectivity to Internet Service Providers
(ISPs) as content providers demand more bandwidth
because of bottlenecks of networks. The building of
optic fibre networks between towns and cities must
be a priority.
The boundless bandwidth offered by optic fibre and
satellite systems at a global level must be matched by
the growth of basic telephony in a world were an
estimated 70 per cent of the world's population is yet
to make a single phone call. The convergence of
satellite and optic fibre offers countries a mesh of
technologies to address bandwidth demand and
international reach. These technologies offer important possibilities in telemedicine, business and in other
applications to solve societal problems. One of
Africa's first telemedicine facilities was set up in
Mozambique under the auspices of the International
Telecommunications Union (ITU) Development Sector between Beira and Maputo hospitals.11 This
project will assist in evaluating appropriate telemedicine applications to benefit developing countries.
Many game farms in South Africa today market their
business to tourists by placing live cameras in
strategic spots for a preview of game on their farms.12
South Africa, through Telkom, has invested in
trans-ocean optic-fibre cables that are connecting
Africa to European and Asian markets. The building of
optic fibre cables and the utilisation of satellite
technologies in areas with a poor terrestrial infrastructure must complement this investment by Telkom. The hybrid connection of satellite and optic fibre
is particularly suitable for the African continent where
the landscape is vast and often hostile.
The growth of cellular telephony in South Africa has
been phenomenal. Using Global System for Mobile
Communications (GSM) technology has enabled
cellular subscribers to gain access and roam in many
countries. When the two incumbent cellular companies were licensed in 1993 it was projected that South
58
Africa would have a mere 500 000 phones by 2002.
Today MTN and Vodacom have between them
9 million subscribers. It is significant to note that
cellular subscribers have completely over-grown the 5
million fixed lines installed by Telkom and this is an
indication of the flexibility of wireless technologies.
The entry of the third cellular network, Cell C, will
greatly benefit consumers and users of cellular.
It is a fact that the duopoly of MTN and Vodacom
has not benefited the consumer much. There have
been indications of price collusion and neglect of
maintaining a quality network. South Africans have
not experienced the price wars that should accompany competition. The price of a handset is still very
high and the incumbent cellular operators have limited
the consumers' choice of switching from one network
to another. While it must be justifiable for operators to
restrict handsets to their specific network, this is a
matter the regulator should keep a close watch on
because of the potential for third line forcing ± a dealer
could force a buyer to purchase a particular product
tied to a network. The operators should remove the
restriction once the customer has finished paying for
the handset.
Many subscribers often experience network congestion and constant `dropped calls'. This poor service
the network operators argue is due to spectrum
inadequacies. They could, however, with the existing
network double their capacity by introducing more
cells in their network. Cellular operators must not
charge subscribers every time there is a `drop call'.
The availability of the 1 800 spectrum to Cell C and
the other incumbent operators will certainly improve
the quality of service and lead to a more competitive
environment. Cellular companies will have to identify
niche markets, improve their customer service and
offer attractive products if they are to be profitable.
The new policy directions recognise the importance
of not dictating to network operators what technology
to use when providing services and being technology
neutral. The traditional geographic market definition is
no longer the best form of restricting operators to a
particular location. The boundary definitions of
markets are changing, especially since technology is
now developing so rapidly.
The convergence of fixed and mobile technologies
will provide the traditional wireline operators with the
opportunity to combine wireless and wireline to
provide telecommunications services. Although it is
justifiable not to give the fixed line operators unlimited
scope of wireless technologies at this stage, it should
be available on a limited geographic scale. Telkom and
the SNO will have a fixed mobile licence that is limited
to a geographic area.
At this stage, it is still expensive to use a cellular
telephone to phone to fixed lines. However, the price
gap between mobile and fixed is closing fast. It will
soon be cost-effective for fixed-line operators to use
wireless technologies, such as GSM, in the local loop.
The demand for unified services ± one number and a
common customer care service from one operator ± is
also encouraging the fixed mobile convergence.13
Furthermore, third-generation (3G) technology will,
no doubt, eliminate the division between fixed and
mobile networks, and advanced services will be equally
available across fixed and mobile platforms. This fixedmobile convergence requires a technology-neutral
treatment of all operators and service providers.
7 THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE REGULATOR
The success of the implementation of the ICT policies
relies mainly on the stability and viability of the
Independent Communications Authority of South
Africa (ICASA). The broadcasting regulator mentioned in chapter 9 of the Constitution merged with
the telecommunications authority in 2001. As a
sector-specific regulator, ICASA is responsible for
regulating broadcasting and telecommunications. It
operates, in the current fiscal year, on a budget of
R107.2 million and additional funds are allocated to it
as it becomes necessary.
Parliament is conducting research to determine the
relation of chapter 9 institutions mentioned in the
Constitution, to deepen democracy and government
departments. The relationship of the Public Protector,
the Human Rights Commission, and other institutions
and government departments who are responsible for
their budget allocation is a grey area that needs clarity
in law.
The independence of ICASA is contained in
legislation and guaranteed in the Constitution,
although the interpretation of this independence is
continuously disputed. The ruling of the Constitutional Court during the certification of the Constitution in 1996 might shed some light on the
interpretation of the independence. Jurisprudence
concerning the meaning of independence is necessary
especially regarding operational and regulatory functions of ICASA and how it should implement
government policies.
At the core of the third cellular deÂbaÃcle was the role
of government in decision-making processes of the
independent regulator and its relationship with government departments. Although allegations of undue
influence were never proven, the delay in issuing the
licence cost South Africa dearly. An opportunity was
lost to introduce competition early in the cellular
industry, which could have created jobs and attracted
foreign direct investment in the economy.
The saga of the third cellular licence brought to the
fore the need for a stable, resourced and independent
regulator. Sound decision making and regulatory
procedures are necessary to limit litigation. Currently,
two separate statutes govern the licensing process of
ICASA: the Independent Broadcasting Authority
(IBA) Act and the Telecommunications Act. These
inherited powers have to be streamlined and simplified to accomplish a common licensing approach in a
converged market. The regulator should be able to
adjudicate the `beauty contest', consider all licence
applications and make an informed decision in the
process.
The ICASA Act of 2000 provides harsh deterrents,
including imprisonment, to prevent a conflict of
interest on the part of councillors. Nevertheless, a
more pressing concern is the undermining of the
regulator by industry players. For example, powerful
companies are deliberately poaching ICASA staff by
luring them with irresistible pay packages.
They also routinely subject decisions of the regulator to judicial review and this has hindered its
ability to implement decisions. The staff of the
regulator must be treated in the same way as
councillors on issues of a conflict of interest and this
must include a restraint on trade.
ICASA has areas of overlap with the competition
regulator, the Competition Commission. Although this
relationship was yet to be tested, the case between
Stannic and Nedcor showed the potential for tension
between the roles of competition and industry specific
regulators. Neither market forces nor competition laws
should govern the telecommunications market. Sector-specific regulation can ensure fair competition
because competition issues are about equity but are
closely linked to the operational conduct of operators.
There has to be a fair balance between competition
and universal service. An independent, well-resourced
and efficiently administered regulator brings stability
and confidence to the sector. However, this is only
possible if the country has a clear and predictable
legal framework and dynamic policies.
Parliament is responsible for overseeing the implementation of laws and government objectives.
Government departments, Telkom, the SABC and
other portfolio organisations appear before parliamentary committees on a regular basis to report on their
performance and the implementation of government
policy. This has often led to a healthy difference of
views between the various policy-making institutions.
The National Assembly also participates in the
process of appointing ICASA councillors and the
regulator accounts to Parliament for their operations
and activities. The procedure for appointing ICASA
councillors guarantees greater transparency, nondiscrimination and fairness in decision making by an
independent council that is free from political and
commercial interference. The Constitution provides
for all proceedings between stakeholders and parliamentary committees to be open to the public. Various
watchdog bodies monitor the activities of these
committees, leading to a more transparent and
accountable Parliament.
The challenge is to develop a relationship between
watchdog bodies and the committees, without compromising either the integrity of the committees or the
public interest. Business, labour and other organs of
civil society need to establish structural mechanisms
to monitor and lobby institutions responsible for
regulation.
8 THE FUTURE BEGINS WITH YOUR HISTORY
Mass protest at global meetings is a rude awakening
to leaders that globalisation has left behind a large
margin of the world's population. However, globalisation and its ills and opportunities are not a new
phenomenon. Navigation and gunpowder drove
European settlers to sail in search of the raw material
and new territories. Colonialism followed and today
59
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (60±70)
globalisation is simply a modern form of territorial
conquest. At the centre of colonialism was the quest
for new resources for trade. The so-called explorers
were simply searching for new markets.
As countries move from industrialisation to service
economies, the objective remains the same ± the quest
for markets: now it is being facilitated by the advent of
the information society, the Internet, online trading, ecommerce and mobile communication. Gone are the
days when a ship would travel through rough seas in
search of the unknown world. These days the
unknown can be discovered by the click of a button.
South Africa must remember to look at history and
60
consider the experience of the world and what lessons
it can learn for the future. However, human civilisation
has been paralleled with a sophistication of the means
of information exchange and communication, hence
improving trade and commerce.
To build global dreams one needs global architects.
Unless South Africa joins the global architects of the
information society, the quality of lives of its citizens
will remain poor. South Africa is confidently engaging
the reality and challenges of globalisation. Together
with other developing countries, it is tackling the
issues head on and finding solutions that are informed
by local conditions.
TARGET
YEAR 1 TO 4
Target
Actual
Difference
% Diff
Total
1,991,466
2,116,349
124,8836
Under-serviced
1,272,863
1,375,614
102,7518
15,880
13,546
2,334
20,472
15,352
5,120
4,592
1,806
2,78629
13,119
2,510
2,6921
827
93,027
108,874
15,84717
647,027
1,155,549
508,52279
Priority Customers
Schools(1)
Other
Villages
Pay-telephones
Replacement lines
NOTES
1
2
Sub-target for schools as calculated.
Please note that the report refers to the cumulative figures as opposed to the annual figures
FIGURE 1
Telkom report on licence obligations 2000/01 cumulative roll-out performance
INDICATORS
TARGET
2000/01
ACTUAL
2000/01
DIFFERENCE
% DIFF.
I. Faults 6 1 000 lines
A. Business customers
415
279
136
33%
B. Residential customers
440
518
778
718%
C. Business customers
84%
90%
6
7%
D. Residential customers
76%
87%
11
14%
E. Coin phones
90%
94%
4
4%
F Card phones
95%
98%
3
3%
G. within 28 days
86%
97%
11
13%
H. within 90 days
97%
99.69%
3
3%
I. within 28 days
77%
92%
15
19%
J. within 120 days
97%
99%
2
2%
II. Faults cleared within 48 h (%)
III. Serviceability of pay-telephones
IV. Orders (%) met within time limit
Business
Residential
Note: `Faults per 1 000 lines' and `Faults cleared within 48 h' include the concessions granted by ICASA (ie unsafe areas and
cable theft)
FIGURE 2
Service quality performance
61
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (62±72)
NOTES
1 Institute for Development Studies, Sussex, June 2000
2 Financial Times, 21 May 2000
3 Financial Times, 31 August 2001
4 Merien 1996, `Survey'
5 Jayaweera 1989
6 Peter Drucker, `The Age of Social Transformation'
7 cf. Baumol and Sidak 1994
8 Telkom, Annual Report 2000
9 Telecom, Oct 13, 1999
10 Satellite Communications, June 2000
11 Telecom, Annual Report 1997
12 http://www.africam.com
13 Telecom 99, Oct 13, 1999
13. Telecom 99, Oct 13, 1999
REFERENCES
Baumol and Sidak 1994
http://www.africam.com
Peter Drucker, `The Age of Social Transformation'
Financial Times, 21 May 2000
Financial Times, 31 August 2001
Gillwald, A. 2001. Policy and Regulatory Challenges of the Digital Divide. Midrand: International Telecommunications Union
Conference Paper. (Note: The study by the former regulator of telecoms in South Africa ± the South African
Telecommunications Regulatory Authority is also available online for general use.)
Institute for Development Studies, Sussex, June 2000
Jayaweera 1989
Merien 1996, `Survey'
Satellite Communications, June 2000
Telecom, Oct 13, 1999
Telkom, Annual Report 2000
62
Transforming the media: a cultural approach
Lynette Steenveld*
INTRODUCTION
As this talk comes at the end of the first day of the
Seminar on the Political Economy of the Southern
African Media, the title of this article needs some
explaining. At the heart of questions concerning the
transformation of the media in South Africa, is a
concern about the relationship of the media to the
broader social context in which they operate. In short,
the question is asked, `what function does the media
serve in society?'. This question has been answered in
basically two ways. The one, a liberal view, sees the
media as independent `mirrors' of society, simply
`reflecting' all that takes place. They are deemed to be
neutral `transmitters' of information in a society in
which citizens are dependent on this information in
order to make various kinds of democratic decisions.
The media are thus seen as facilitating the process of
citizenship. The premises are:
. power is equally distributed throughout society
. citizens have equal access to the media
. the media are 'neutral' with respect to power.
The other, the view of the media society relationship, namely a radical view, sees the media as the
means by which powerful social classes maintain their
control over society. They do this through their
ownership of the media, which are then used to
privilege their views and values through the overaccessing of particular èÂlite' sources, and the underaccessing of the views of groups that are less
powerful. In other words, one of the major premises
is that social power is not evenly distributed throughout the society. Some groups are more powerful than
others, as evidenced through their ownership of
media, which are then used to promote their interests.
While I generally agree with the arguments put
forward in the second view ± which is based on a
political economy perspective ± a more nuanced way
of making sense of the media is described by
Thompson (1995:10) as a cultural approach. He
writes:
Cultural phenomena [such as the media] may be
understood as symbolic forms in structured contexts; and cultural analysis may be construed as the
study of the meaningful constitution and social
contextualization of symbolic forms. (Thompson
1990:123)
The key concern here is with the social and cultural
contexts that structure the ways in which the media
operate.
The aim of this article, therefore, is to elucidate the
current (print) media landscape by examining the
debates and practices that inform the social and
cultural context within which `media transformation'
is being constituted. The significance of a contextual
analysis is that it sees cultural and discursive factors as
equally important in the determination of the relationship between media and society. Whereas a political
economy approach sees the economic structures as
all-determining (in the base±superstructure metaphor), the `turn to Gramsci' in the 1980s offered a
way of rethinking the relationship between structure
(understood as the economy) and social agency (the
ideological and cultural) (see Curran 1996:132). In
Chantal Mouffe's words:
The distinction between infra- and superstructure
needs to be questioned because it implies a
conception of the economy as a world of objects
and relations that exist prior to any ideological and
political conditions of existence. This view assumes that the economy is able to function on its
own and follow its own logic, a logic absolutely
independent of the relations it would allegedly
determine.
Instead I shall defend a conception of society as
a complex ensemble of heterogenous social relations possessing their own dynamism. Not all
relations are reducible to social relations of
* Lynette Steenveld holds the Independent Newspapers Chair of Media Transformation, Department of Journalism and Media
Studies, Rhodes University.
This article is printed with the permission of the International Research Seminar on Political Economy of the Southern African
Media, coordinated by the Southern African and South±South Working Group on Media, Culture and Communication,
coordinated through the Graduate Programme in Cultural and Media Studies, University of Natal, Durban. This abridged
version of Steenveld's speech was presented at one of the seminar's public events, the 3rd Annual Independent Newspapers
Lecture on Media Freedom, at the University of Natal, May 2002. A longer version of Steenveld's paper will appear in a book
compiled from papers delivered at the 2002 meeting, to be published by International Academic Publishers, Colorado Springs,
USA.
63
production or to their ideological and political
conditions of reproduction. The unity of a social
formation is the product of political articulations,
which are, in turn, the result of the social practices
that produce a hegemonic formation. (1988:90).
I think this is a useful starting point for looking at
the transformations in South Africa since the 1994
democratic elections. My argument is that one needs
to see the transformations in the media as both a
product of those changes, and as contributing to the
nature of the ongoing social changes (restructuring)
in South Africa. In other words, I shall sketch a less
media-centric view of the relationship between the
media and society, described by Thompson as a
`cultural approach'. I will do this in the following way:
1.
2.
3.
4.
by discussing `transformation' as a political
process
by discussing the discourses of `transformation'
by looking at current debates about South African
media `transformation'
by presenting a framework for assessing changes
in the South African media landscape based on
the extent to which they promote and develop
citizenship ± one of the key rationales for the
pivotal role of the media in a democracy.
2 TRANSFORMATION
The discourse of `transformation' dates back to the
first democratic elections in South Africa in 1994
which marked the birth of a 'new' South Africa. The
philosophical foundation of the òld' South Africa was
racialism: the premise that `race' is a possible means of
categorising human beings (Appiah 1992:19). The
ideology of racism that this system of human
classification made possible led to its notorious
institutionalised oppression of the majority of its
citizens. In other words, `South Africa' was a society
structured on a profound distortion of power, which
was evident in relation to class, `race' and gender. But
it is arguable that the key antagonisms that were taken
up politically, were in relation to `class' and `race'.
Thus the struggles of the 1980s produced a broad
front (the Mass Democratic Movement) which articulated class, `racial' and gender antagonisms, and
directed them towards a struggle for a democratic
state1.
To understand the importance of the media in this
new (for South Africa) social context, some key ideas
about democracy and citizenship need to be reviewed
briefly. One could see (liberal) `democracy' as a form
of state based on the ideal of the participation of all its
citizens in the arrangements for their self-governance.
Citizenship describes the condition of one's membership, and three main dimensions of citizenship have
been identified, with their associated rights and
institutional means for securing them (Golding and
Murdock 1989:181; Dahlgren 2000:317). The first of
these sets of rights is political rights, which ensures
the rights of democratic participation in the exercise of
political power. The second set of citizenship rights,
civil rights, guarantee the individual's freedom within
64
`civil society'. Social rights secure members' general
life circumstances within the state, and refer to such
areas as social security, welfare, education and health
care. Social rights therefore refer to `the whole range
from the right to a modicum of economic welfare and
security to the right to share to the full in the social
heritage and to live the life of a civilized being
according to the standards prevailing in society'
(Marshall, T E. qtd. Murdock and Golding 1989:
182). This range of rights was what the struggle for
South African citizenship was about, and what was
potentially signified by the 1994 elections.
The new government, the government of National
Unity, was tasked with setting up the constitutional
and legislative foundations for a 'new' democratic
state. One of the problems it was faced with was
constituting a new 'national identity'. The new
Constitution can be read as the basis of this new
identity. As it is founded on the principles of 'nonracialism and non-sexism' (Constitution of the Republic of South Africa 1996:3), it is arguable that this
is the privileged discourse of the new nation. It is thus
in this way that the discourse of transformation has
been framed in terms of addressing issues of `racial'
and gender inequalities, as opposed to, for example,
questions concerning class inequalities.
The importance of communication in relation to
citizenship, is that it is one of the means by which
citizenship is developed and secured. Communications are necessary for making citizens aware of their
rights; they provide access to the variety of information citizens need to make informed political decisions, and they provide the means through which
citizens `recognize themselves and their aspirations in
the range of representations', which confirm and
construct their personhood and their identity as
citizens (Golding and Murdock 1989:183). The media
are judged by the extent to which they facilitate and
promote the various dimensions of citizenship.
3 DISCOURSES OF TRANSFORMATION
Three terms marked the discourse of the Mandela
presidency: the rainbow nation (coined by the then
Archbishop, Desmond Tutu), reconciliation and nation-building. This discourse was expressed in various
ways, such as through the work of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission (TRC), and the South
African Broadcasting Corporation (SABC) `Simunye
... we are one' jingle. Perhaps a key media event that
signified this new coming together of the nation, was
the 1995 Rugby World Cup Final. Às President
Nelson Mandela put it at the official banquet
concluding the tournament, `Èven before the whistle
was blown for the kick-off at Newlands, South Africa
had already won in the hearts and minds of the nation.
When the final whistle blew a month later, the
foundations for reconciliation and nation-building
had been truly strengthened'' ' (Steenveld & Strelitz
1998:610).
The discourses of the `rainbow nation' and `reconciliation' acknowledged racial divisions and antagonisms, but they foregrounded a politics of pragmatism
that said `we need to understand our past in order to
get on with the job of building a new nation'. But its
`weakness' was that it was unable to contain and
shape the experiences of many South Africans in their
quest for a new sense of national identity. `We also
need to improve the material conditions of people's
lives. And we are failing to do that,' said Duncan Innes
in an article in the Sunday Independent (2 June
1996). Underpinning this process of building the new
nation was the Reconstruction and Development
Programme (RDP). Initiated by the Congress of South
African Trade Unions (Cosatu) in 1993, it formed the
central pillar of the African National Congress's
(ANC) economic policy for redressing social and
economic inequalities wrought by decades of National Party (NP) rule (Fine & van Wyk 1996:20;
Adelzadeh 1996:66). While its rhetoric was of
addressing the basic needs of `the people', its tone
was conciliatory towards business (Fine & van Wyk
1996:21).
Even when there was strong public acceptance of
the discourse of reconciliation and nation-building,
the Mail & Guardian noted that the ANC was `finding
it more difficult than it had imagined to convert all
South Africans to true non-racialism' (see note 2).
This was evidenced, for example, by the stories of
school violence in the then Northern Province
(Limpopo), and more recently, the murder of Tshepo
Matloha by five members of Noordelikes Rugby Club
on 25 March, 2001 (Sowetan April 19:3). Columnists
continue to point to the ongoing racism in South
African society and thus the impossibility of reconciliation.
Story 1: City Press, November 25, 2001. Vusi
Mona. One's OK, two's a crowd ± in
his own column: Setting the Agenda.
This story was about the way in which he and his wife
were treated by a white doctor. `Reconciliation
requires candour in disclosing and talking about the
problem of racism, otherwise we won't be able to
avoid the risk of confirming the fantasy that all is well.'
Story 2: Sunday Times 7 April, 2002. Mondli
Makhany: We'll never get over the
past if we deny it.
The story was about the winding up of the TRC.
`Be it about the President, Aids, the economy,
Zimbabwe or the Middle East, South Africans'
responses are invariably determined by the colour of
their skins.'
`Denying our past ± as white South Africans are
wont to do ± will not take us forward because the
continued white denial serves only to alienate their
black countrymen.'
As I have argued before, the `current cleavages' ± of
class, `race', gender, and age ± inherited from the
racial capitalist order (Wolpe 1972; Lacey 1981,
Stadler 1987) militate against the present acceptance
of such an overarching discourse of reconciliation
(Steenveld & Strelitz 1998:624).
It is therefore not surprising that this discourse has
been superseded by a discourse of `The African
Renaissance'. Arguably, this was initiated by Thabo
Mbeki with his Ì am an African' speech, made on
behalf of the ANC, on the occasion of the adoption by
the Constitutional Assembly of the Republic of South
Africa Constitution Bill, on 8 May 1996. The term
African Renaissance was not unambiguously addressed to `the nation', as the earlier discourse
(rainbow nation reconciliation nation-building) had
been. While on the one hand it specified a particular,
apparently racial identity if read in òld South Africa'
terms, on the other, the meaning of this identity was
open to question and interpretation in a 'new' South
Africa. A Mail and Guardian (24±30 June 1996)
headline queried, Ìs ethnicity in vogue again?2'.
Following the first African Renaissance conference
in Johannesburg in September 1998, the issue was
taken up by the media and circulated in the public
sphere.
The thrust of the media debates centred on `who
qualifies to be African?' (Frederick van Zyl Slabbert,
Sunday Independent headline, 20 December, 1998:9;
Dr Aggrey Mbere, City Press, 7 November, 1999:7);
what the `renaissance' is (was, or should be) ± as
process, and not event (Kole Omotoso, Cape Times,
22 December 1998:17); the role of intellectuals in the
process (Mathata Tsedu, Sunday Independent, 20
December 1998); the need for it to be a contestation
of ideas, not a return to an uncritical thinking ± a new
orthodoxy (Ray Hartley, Sunday Times, 28 June,
1998); that it should be located `within the people':
`Take the African Renaissance to the people who
make it real' was the headline to Mandla Langa's
article in the Sunday Independent (16 August,
1998:110). This last call was taken up by a new
organisation in Kwazulu-Natal, Isivivane Samasiko
Nolwazi, which aims `to revive long-established, and
sometimes long-forgotten, Zulu customs, including
ukuhlolwa kwezintombi, the tradition of testing girls'
virginity', wrote Fred Khumalo in an article headlined
`Giving the renaissance roots' (Sunday Times, 30
August, 1998:15).
This spate of articles probed the ambiguity of the
developing discourse. Most fundamentally, the question was asked, `what is meant by African'?3 The
continental reference can be interpreted as a `racial'
one, pointing seemingly to origins and roots, and thus
raises disquiet about who is incorporated and who
excluded. It also begs questions about what it is that
provides the points of identification for a whole
continent. That this is not unproblematic are the
views that this should incorporate all classes (the
grassroots, big business, the intelligentsia), that it
should have a cultural dimension (`traditional African'
customs), and above all that it should be a `space' for
discussion and dissent, not òrthodoxy'. This last
issue/item relates to concerns about `who has the
right to speak', in which the credibility of the speaker
is judged by the person's presumed `racial' pedigree.
Thus, while on the one hand a Pan-African identity is
being invoked in opposition to other global continental identities (European, American and Asian),
65
there is the anxiety by some that the continental
reference is used locally as a means of `racial'
exclusivity and exclusion.
It is quite clear that, in the aftermath of South
Africa's apartheid rule, there is the need to affirm
(reaffirm) the moral, cultural and political values of
black South Africans (see Pityana 1999, City Press, 25
November 2001). For the import of racialism and its
attendant racism is not merely that it draws distinctions between people because of the colour of their
skins, but because it infers from the morphology of
`skin, hair and bone' moral, intellectual, and cultural
qualities. It is because of these inferences, which
Stuart Hall (1981:28) describes as ìnferential racism',
that there is the felt political need to assert the
existence of a culture and history, among other things,
which a racist ideology has denied. In Stuart Hall's
words:
By developing practices which articulate differences into a collective will, or by generating
discourses which condense a range of different
connotations, the dispersed conditions of practice
of different social groups can be effectively drawn
together in ways which make those social forces
not simply a class `ìn itself'', positioned by some
other relations over which it has no control, but
also capable of establishing new collective projects. (1996:16)
We could thus interpret the re-emergence of the
discourses of Pan-Africanism and an Àfrican Renaissance' as the ideological interpellation of a new social
subject for this new social project. A key question,
however, is whether this discourse is taken up as a
part of the ongoing struggle to democratise all areas of
social life, or whether it will be taken up in narrowly
'nationalistic' and `racially' exclusive ways, as simply
another post-modern identity of difference (see
Curran 1996:132±133; West 1988:24). That discourses of xenophobia have emerged simultaneously
with the discourse of the African Renaissance is
evidence that this question is not without foundation
(see Mail and Guardian October 22±29, 1999 12±13,
Nuttall & Michael 2000:109).
Concomitant with the development of the African
Renaissance discourse was the dropping of the RDP
and the initiating of the Growth, Employment and
Redistribution (GEAR) macro-economic policy,
which led to the subsequent tensions between the
ANC, Cosatu, and the South African Communist Party
(SACP). Writing in City Press (February 3, 2002:21)
Andile Mngxitam4 comments:
Ten years ago former President Nelson Mandela,
returning from Davos in Switzerland, downplayed
the ruling ANC's erstwhile policy of nationalisation
and began his famous Davos-Damascus Road
conversion to the acceptance of Neo-liberal economics, which later included his claim that
``privatisation'', and later ``GEAR'' were the fundamental policies of the ANC.4
66
Questions continue to be asked about who exactly
discussed and designed GEAR, a policy which
critics say takes ``from the poor and gives to the
rich''.
Ravi Naidoo, Director of the National Labour
Development Institute (Naledi ± Cosatu's economic
think-tank), has a similar perspective on GEAR. He
writes:
The 1996 currency crisis heralded the rushed
unveiling of the Growth, Employment and Redistribution strategy, which sought to appease business. The primary reason given for this nonnegotiable strategy was that it would ensure
financial stability.
However, since its introduction, the rand has
fallen by over 200% ± by 40% in December 2001
alone. This failure compounds GEAR's earlier
failure to meet social targets. (Sunday Times, 6
January 2002:16)
In an earlier article for the Sowetan, headlined
`Privatisation does not benefit the poor', which deals
with the failure of the government's privatisation
drives in the health, water, telecommunications,
electricity and transport sectors, Naidoo asks, `So
why is government pushing ahead with privatisation?'
One reason he notes is that
the pushing ahead with privatisation regardless
reflects an ideological approach. The benefits of
privatisation are assumed as fact, even if actual
developments show this to be false. This ideological approach is consistent with South Africa's
other ideological strategy, the Growth, Employment and Redistribution (Gear), which has also
patently failed to deliver on social targets.
(http://www.cosatu.org.za/speeches/2001/
rn010827.htm: 4).
This ìdeological position' is summed up by Duncan: ìn short, they ``talk left'' but `àct right''
(http://pcmlp.socleg.ox.ac.uk/transition/issueo6/
duncan.htm. What she is pointing to is the class
perspective from which the government is acting ±
regardless of its colour. This tilting towards the
business and professional classes seemed to promote
a discourse of black pride in being wealthy, and a
growth of black professional associations (see Mona
2002:8).
This was evidenced in 1999 when two civil society
organisations, the Black Lawyers Association (BLA)
and the Association of Black Accountants (ABASA),
laid a charge of racism against the Mail & Guardian
and The Sunday Times with the Human Rights
Commission (HRC). The complaint could be interpreted as one of the outcomes of the Àfrican
Renaissance', seen as the assertion of `black' identities, values and rights vis-aÁ-vis institutions that are
perceived to be `white'. The media, in these terms,
represented the ideological arm of `white' (bourgeois)
power. This charge led to the HRC's public hearings
into Racism in the Media in 2000. This investigation
into the media by what was seen by some as a
`government body', was interpreted by sections of the
media as an assault on press freedom and freedom of
expression. Other sections of the media saw it as the
state's intervention on behalf of those `misrepresented' by the media, or those whose dignity was
not respected nor valued by the media.
American scholar John A Powell offers a very useful
and insightful description of the significance of the
constitutional tension between freedom of expression
and press freedom (Section 16), and the right to
dignity (Section 10) and equality (Section 9). He
describes it as `two narratives that describe different
worlds' (1995:333). The free speech tradition, Powell
writes, tells the story of `people asserting their
autonomy through participation, free thought, and
self-expression in the polity wary of government
constraint such constraint [being] an evil to be
avoided in society' (1995:333).
The equality tradition, however, tells the story of
people whom communities and government conspired to exclude from any meaningful participation in the polity or public institution. It tells the
story of a government that until very recently
actively engaged in efforts to exclude, and now
passively stands by while private actors and
powerful social forces continue to shut the door
to persons seeking full membership in society. This
tradition also tells of a long struggle for status, not
just as members of the polity, but as complete and
respected human beings. Indeed the great evil to
be avoided, as seen from this framework, is
discrimination that undermines or destroys someone's humanity (1995:333).
In short, the free speech constituency could be seen
as representing those who already have access to an
existing ùniversal' system that is organised in a way
that they are familiar with, and that suits them. The
equality constituency represents those who are newcomers, and who do not only want to participate, but
also want to have a say in the rules, conventions and
values governing the constitution of what is considered ùniversal'.
The HRC's subpoenaing of numbers of editors
seemed to polarise the media into two camps: the
seemingly `white' media defending freedom of expression, versus the seemingly `black' state defending
the interests of those seeking recognition as respected
human beings `see Black editors' submission at HRC'.
Powell suggests that it is not helpful to ask which of
the two narratives is more valid, as this assumes that
there is some other formulation that one can use to
judge this. The fact is, depending on which world one
lives in, one will choose that story as being more
relevant to one's interests.
While this is a useful way of interpreting the
`freedom of expression' and `right to dignity and
equality' constituencies vis-aÁ-vis the role of the media
in society, Powell's formulation should not blind us to
the class component of both `the people', and those
organisations who claim to speak for them.
At a symbolic level, the tension could be seen as a
struggle between `the system' (structure), and `the
people' (agency) that is interpreted as `capitalism/
whiteness' versus `blackness'. While structuralist
accounts are indispensable to an understanding of
how the system (of domination) works, its focus
implicitly downplays or ignores the place of `the
people' in the system. But given South Africa's
apartheid history and its legacy of racism, `the people'
are clamouring to be heard and the most potent
discourse of their embodiment is `race'. This tension
seems to be reproduced at a theoretical/analytical
level: a structural (economic) analysis, versus a
cultural analysis. As Stuart Hall has noted, neither
culturalism nor structuralism will do (reference). In
Giddens's view, one needs `to explain how it comes
about that structures are constituted through action,
and reciprocally how action is constituted structurally'
(1976:161).
4 MEDIA TRANSFORMATION
It is within this foregoing discursive and structural
context that the media responded to the national
project of `transformation'. As noted earlier, one key
element of the transformation was in terms of the
constitution of a non-racial and non-sexist state, the
other was in creating a democratic one. However,
Western theoretical discussions of the relationship
between the media and society generally presume a
homogenous society in which class is presumed to be
the key axis of power (and are generally silent on
issues of `race' and gender). Thus in those discourses
the contestation of media power is with respect to a
generalised notion of `ruling classes' (understood in
economic terms) and the media are seen either to
enable universal citizenship, or to promote social
control by the ruling classes, in which there is a
common class identity of the rulers, the media and big
business.
In South Africa, however, given its apartheid legacy,
and the current discourses of an Àfrican Renaissance', boosted by GEAR and the spin-off black
economic empowerment (BEE), identity is invoked
and understood primarily in `racial' terms. Thus the
ìdentity' of the media, the rulers and big business are
also interpreted in racial terms. The significance of the
'new' South Africa, is that it is a democracy based on
universal franchise, which resulted in the election of a
government that was predominantly black. Thus,
those once non-citizens (who are also media consumers) now have political power (to vote), the
`racial' identity of state power has also changed, but
through GEAR it is promoting the economic status
quo, which in South Africa is `white', with a sop to
`black nationalist solidarity' via BEE, which consolidates the power of the owning and professional
classes (regardless of `race'). In other words, there is a
sharp division between economic power (largely
`white') and political power (largely black), with the
state playing an ambiguous role: restructuring the
economy in favour of business, while instituting some
social policies aimed at `the previously disadvantaged'
67
(`talk left, act right'). What is the import of this for the
media?
4.1 Media transformation: how the mediasociety debate is played out in South
Africa: The racialised discourse of media
transformation
While there is a common understanding that transformation is another word for change, what `counts as
transformation/change' is contested. The key poles of
this debate are whether the `transformations/changes'
are fundamental, or whether they are `surface
changes' (`the more things change, the more they
stay the same'). This translates into the old Marxist
debates about determination, as expressed in the
base±superstructure metaphor. With regard to postapartheid changes in the South African media, the
debate has surfaced with regard to economic/structural, versus other changes in the media. Tomaselli
(1997) and Berger (1999) have both outlined the
changing ownership of the South African media,
indicating the advent of `black' ownership into the
media market since 1996 (see also Barnett 1999:653).
Tomaselli's main contention is that this change is in
terms of the colour of the ownership, and thus has not
made a major impact on the media's role vis-aÁ-vis the
inequalities produced by capitalism. This position is
contested by Berger who argues that the colour of
ownership does have a symbolic social impact, as well
as providing a possible space for changes in media
management, staffing and thus content. This is
conceded by Tomaselli (`what this interpenetration
did herald, however, was the possibility of new
management styles, which mobilise African practices
and beliefs in a meshing of capitalist imperatives with
the cultural habits and values of black employees')
(1997:65). His last word is still that this represents an
inclusion of the working class into capitalist structures, as investors (via union pension and provident
funds) ± it does not lead to a new social order
(1997:66). Duncan challenges both positions, arguing that `Both arguments miss the point that labour
itself is being restructured and stratified; so workers
inside the productive economy probably will be able
to, in time, make the media serve their interests more
faithfully, a process that will be enabled by recent
ownership changes. Changes will probably trickle
down to management and editorial levels, as they
must. However, the structural barriers that frustrate
greater media access may well remain' (2000:12±13)
[see her concluding paragraph].
Taking the position argued by Tomaselli, Boloka
and Krabill (2000) argue that how one evaluates the
changes that have taken place depends on one's
understanding of transformation. They define it as a
`transformation of media power' (2000:80); and
successful transformation of South African media
as being achieved when it reflects in ownership,
staffing, and the product, the society within which
it operates, not only in terms of race, but also
socio-economic status, gender, religion, sexual
orientation, region, language etc. This is only
68
possible if access is opened ± again in ownership,
staffing, and product ± not only to the emerging
black elite, but also to grassroots communities of
all colours. (Boloka and Krabill 2000:76)
In short, they question `to what degree media have
made substantive ± transformative ± changes, rather
than superficial changes geared toward maintaining
privilege among an eÂlite instead of redistributing
privilege' (2000:79). Their point is well taken, but it
does beg the larger question of the role of the media in
society. As Humphrey McQueen has commented, Ìt is
often said that the media are on the side of big
business. This is not so. The media are big business'
(qtd. Masterman 1985:85). There is little doubt that
the economics of media production, and the increased
concentration of ownership have a profound effect on
media access, and the views and values that circulate
in a shrinking print-mediated public sphere (Golding
& Murdock 2000). But if one's concern is about
bringing about `radical social transformation', then it
behoves one to analyse the possible ways in which
current structures and practices can be exploited/
worked with to produce some movement towards the
ultimate aim of radical social transformation (if this is
still on the agenda!).
As noted earlier, the importance of the media, from
both a liberal and radical perspective, is the role that
they play in enabling a public space (public sphere) of
discussion and dissent (Golding & Murdock 2000;
Dahlgren 2000). The media do this by reporting
`what's going on' in society, in other words, they
report on social participation in all areas of life. But the
key, is that all members and groups in society should
be able to see themselves, their values and their lifeworlds fairly represented in the media. By positioning
their readers as having a stake in society, along with
government and business, the media contribute to
their readers' identity as citizens, who are valued for
their contribution to making `democracy' real. These
are the benchmarks by which the media are judged:
do they promote a sense of social belonging and
participation; do they represent citizens and their
interests?
It is virtually indisputable that the media, as
businesses (in McQueen's words), operating in a free
market economy whose raison d'etre is to make
profits, tilt the media towards representing the
`powerful' classes in society. Those who fall into this
category, whether their power comes from their
political clout or their spending power, will doubtless
experience the media as being ìnteresting', because
they deal with their life-worlds and values. The
questions about media `transformation' focus on the
extent to which the media also promote that same
sense of belonging and inclusion in those without
spending power ± but who are (or should be) valued
as citizens. In Keane's words, `communications media
should be for the public use and enjoyment of all
citizens and not for the private gain or profit of
political rulers and business' (1989:49).
5 FRAMEWORK FOR ASSESSING THE
IMPACT OF CURRENT MEDIA CHANGES
ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF CITIZENSHIP.
Curran proposes analysing the media in relation to
forces that either tilt them towards representing `the
powerful', or those that move them in the opposite
direction, to the less powerful in society (1996:139).
This view thus recognises the complex position of the
media in society, in which they are in part `governed'
(determined) by their economic structure, but/and are
also a space of social agency. It will be in these terms
that I will briefly comment on some of the changes in
the print media industry.
5.1 Forces that tilt the media upwards towards
serving `the powerful' (which tend to be
largely market forces)
5.1.1 Media ownership and control
One of the most powerful ways in which the media are
seen to serve dominant class interests is through their
ownership. Costs of entry further restrict the class
base, as does the tendency to media concentration. In
South Africa this class empowerment is also seen as a
means of `racial' empowerment. In a print media
market formerly dominated by local and foreign white
capital (now News24, Independent Newspapers,
Times Media Limited (TML), the acquisition of one
of the leading groups, TML, by the National Empowerment Consortium (NEC) was heralded as an
important aspect of the transformation of the print
media. What it potentially did was to break up the
concentration of white ownership. But the more
fundamental question was whether this change in
ownership enabled greater access to media by the
mass of the population, or whether this change in
ownership enabled a greater diversification of the
kinds of representations that were made available to
South Africans. Initially there was little change in
these areas, however, it is arguable that the `shake-up'
led media companies to review their holdings vis-aÁvis the markets in which they operated, for example,
the Sunday market. Originally, this consisted of TML's
Sunday Times (middle-brow, mixed market), Independent's Sunday Independent (high-brow, intellectual/white market), and Naspers' City Press (middlebrow black market). Then Nail introduced Sowetan
Sunday World, to take on City Press. But City Press
editor, Vusi Mona, believed that his paper catered for
the top end of the black readership, so did not see
Sunday World as competing in his market. However,
economic pressures on his own paper, and the advent
of Sunday World did spur him to propose a paper that
could compete with Sunday World's market ± hence
the launch of Sunday Sun by News24. How does one
view these changes? Both tabloids extend the newspapers to groups of readers who had not been catered
for before (Sunday Sun's cover charge is R2).
Whether they contribute to democratic citizenship
needs further research. Seen positively, tabloids and
infotainment expand the boundaries of `the political'
(possible value of `Big Brother' coverage) which draw
in readers who would otherwise have been turned off
the traditional understanding of `politics' (see Dahlgren 2000:314).
Other product entries to the market include foreignowned Independent Newspapers' recent launch of the
isiZulu-language weekly, Isolezwe (Eye of the Nation), and NEC-owned TML launched an isiXhosalanguage weekly in Port Elizabeth, Ilizwe (The Voice
of the People). Both of these papers (regardless of
ownership) extend the access of working-class South
Africans to print news in African languages. It is
arguable that the potential significance of this is that
they provide opportunities of self-recognition and the
development of selfhood that is the sine qua non of
the social element of citizenship. A study of news
content, sourcing, points of view expressed, and so
forth would be necessary to evaluate the ways in
which these new titles also contribute to the other
dimensions of citizenship. Another avenue for research in this regard would be to consider whether,
and how, these extended markets impact on reproducing the racially segregated and segmented apartheid
markets.
5.1.2 Mass market pressures
Mass market pressures also tend to tilt media towards
representing the interests of the more powerful
economic classes ± because they are more attractive
to advertisers, the source of media revenue ± which is
historically `white', and which the new economic
`transformation' is not necessarily changing. But
current political pressures have forced an enquiry into
the advertising industry that may change the way in
which advertising impacts on media markets, perhaps
benefiting the `low end' (black working-class) market
that has lost out on adspend (GCIS 2000:24). The All
Market Product Survey (AMPS), on which media
planners assess their client's market, has eliminated
`race' as one of the defining categories. It is hoped
that this will reduce the perceived racism (and
ignorance) of media planners re the black working
class market ± thus supporting publications that cater
for this end of the market.
While market pressures tilt the media towards the
economically powerful, the benefits of economies of
scale should potentially push them towards catering
for an expanded working-class (black) market. The
one force tends to limit access, the other to extend it.
The quality of what is accessed vis-aÁ-vis creating a
more open and diversified public sphere depends on
the content and whether readers are addressed merely
as consumers, or as citizens.
This formulation foregrounds the colour of the
ownership ± but not its gender. The underlying
premise is that the economic empowerment will take
place within a capitalist framework.
5.1.3 News routines and values
News routines and values also tend to favour the
existing status quo. The `routines' refer to the
historical way in which news room practices are
organised. This may mean the use of historically used
69
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (70±83)
sources, who have a way of viewing issues that was
dominant during the apartheid era. This means that
the less powerful (who are less well resourced and
therefore less well organised and articulate) have less
chance to have their experiences, world views and
values represented. In South Africa, this dynamic
often translates into representations `white', male
middle class interest groups can identify with ±
leading to the description of the media as `white'
(and middle class), regardless of their ownership,
staff, or readership.
To my knowledge, the mantra of news values
(timeliness, exceptional quality, future impacts, prominence of persons, conflict, consequences, etc)
(Ferguson 1998:176±78) has not changed. But given
that the social context has changed, the major
question is then for whom are these values? These,
together with the routines form part of the `structures'
of the media that tilt them towards the economically
powerful groups. The problem is exacerbated when
these values are applied unconsciously (routinely) by
journalists ± the social agents who have to transform
social experiences and events into a commodity,
news. What inevitably happens is that historically
dominant chains of associations, and ways of thinking
about issues and people, are drawn on in the rush to
deadline. What is produced is a representation of
views, logics and attitudes that were dominant in
apartheid South Africa, and that were part of the
system of exclusion and disenfranchisement ± when
the majority of South Africans were non-citizens (see
Steenveld 2000:25)
5.2 Forces that push the media downwards
towards serving the `less powerful' (tend
to be social and political forces ± the
cultural)
5.2.1 Countervailing cultural power
The significance of the 1994 elections, as noted
earlier, is that they marked a shift in `cultural' power in
South Africa. The new Constitution codified the new
social norms developed in the years of struggle. While
there was no real shift in economic power, those who
had it, no longer had cultural power. Curran
(1996:142) argues that the location of this form of
power, especially if dominant in society, could temper
the discursive field in which the media operate, and in
this way check the unmitigated tilt towards the
economically powerful. It is arguable that this happened to some extent in South Africa. The BLA's and
ABASA's complaint to the HRC about media racism,
which initiated the national inquiry into racism in the
media, could be seen as an instance of this. It
foregrounded certain tendencies in the media's representations, and made those within the media not
only more conscious of their practice, but also that
they were being `monitored' and critically assessed by
civil society.
Another manifestation of the dominance of a
different `world view' could be seen in the reporting
on the events of 11 September 2001 and its aftermath.
On the whole, even though South African media
70
condemned what was seen as a `terrorist' attack, and
even though there was empathy with the Americans
who had lost loved ones, the focus of South African
reporting was to probe American foreign policy and
world economic dominance as the motivation for the
attack. It is arguable that the incident was viewed
from a `Third World' perspective which well understood how oppression can drive people to desperate
acts. The media here questioned the ideology of `the
war on terrorism' ± many of their readers having
themselves been accused of `terrorism' and labelled
`terrorists'. That this could be seen as a blank cheque
for extending American military intervention across
the globe, did not go unnoticed by the South African
media.
5.2.2 Political power
The shift in cultural power was also accompanied by
political power. There is a new political network, as
former àctivists' are incorporated at all levels of the
state, and their ex-comrades hold influential positions
in the media. In this way, the formerly marginalised
can use their newfound connections with the state to
influence the goals, policies and organisation of the
media. The focus on racism in the media is one
example of this. The development of the Media
Development and Diversity Agency could be seen as
another. The aim of this agency is `to promote access
to the media by marginalized groups and to enhance
media pluralism' (GCIS 2000:5). In other words,
cognisant of the way in which market forces tilt
media towards economically powerful media audiences, the rationale of the MDDA is to intervene to
redress this towards those whom `the market' does not
readily serve. The envisioned MDDA will be an
independent, statutory body, funded by government,
industry and (foreign) donors, that will be tasked with
funding initiatives that promote media development
and diversity (GCIS 2000). What it will thus enable is
a different set of media owners who would thus be
able to exert their ownership powers towards their
marginalised constituencies ± which is what the
àlternative press' of the 1980s achieved.
5.2.3 Source power
Curran also argues that subordinate groups can
influence the media by effecting changes in the
sources traditionally used by journalists (1996:144).
As governments and government departments are key
news sources, the change in government had the
potential to shift reporting towards the interests of the
newly enlarged electorate. While this has happened,
the other effect has been to focus on the shortcomings of the newly elected government. This could
be accounted for by the current demographics in the
newsrooms, which is still mostly white and male
(65.5% white and 65.5% male.5 On the one hand, this
could be viewed as the media serving the public by
holding government accountable to them, on the
other ± given the history of the South African media
vis-aÁ-vis past governments ± this newfound `watchdog' role is seen as a new form of media racism (see
AD attack on black people in power). The balance
between these roles needs further research.
5.2.4 Staff power
Finally, journalists have the potential power to counter
the institutional and market forces to tilt the media
towards the economically less powerful. Whether or
not this is actualised, depends on how autonomous
they can be in their work environments (the extent to
which they have internalised the `routines and
practices' of their news organisation), and how they
interpret `professionalism' ± as serving their profession
(and owners' interests), or as serving the public
interest. Nordenstreng describes these two poles as
`fortress journalism', or a journalism informed by a
`cosmopolitan ethics' or a Ùnited Nations ideology'.
The first-mentioned is àn approach which understands media and journalists as the owners of
communication rights and freedoms', and the lastmentioned is one in which ìt is the citizens and their
civil society that should be seen as the ultimate
owners of freedom of information' (1998:127).
Government intervention in the form of the Employment Equity Act' 1998, which regulates the way in
which businesses employing more than 50 employees
have to transform their staffing complement to mirror
the colour and gender demographics of the country, is
another means by which staff power is potentially
enhanced.5 However, the importance of this in the
media industry is the potential impact that social
identity (in terms of colour, class, gender and age)
and experience can have on the journalist's ideology,
access to a variety of sources, and thus the resources
at their disposal for practising their profession.6
Changing the colour of the newsrooms is not going
to do much for improved social coverage, unless there
is a concomitant change vis-aÁ-vis training, as well as a
re-visioning of what is 'newsworthy'. The Skills
Development Act, which requires companies to
contribute 1 per cent of their turnover to a national
Skills Fund, is another way in which the government
has intervened, which has the potential to empower
journalists.
Some of these issues have also been taken up by
the South African National Editors' Forum.7 But it is
arguable that these initiatives also need to be
vigorously pursued by journalists themselves through
their own organisations (including the Media Workers
Association of South Africa (MWASA), Federation of
Black Journalists [FBJ] and the South African Union
of Journalists [SAUJ]).
6 BALANCING FORCES: THE MEDIA IN A
LIBERAL DEMOCRACY
As can be seen from the above analysis, the media do
not operate in a vacuum. Rather, they should be seen
as part of a matrix of forces that impact on one
another, and in so doing transform the operations and
impacts of one another. The new context in which this
takes place is South Africa's developing liberal
democracy. The 1980s struggle agenda has been
transformed through the RDP to GEAR and BEE, the
African Renaissance and New Economic Plan for
Africa's Development (NEPAD). In this context, the
media, government and civil society jostle against one
another. The ascendancy of the ideology of `the
market' and the ìnevitability of globalisation' tilts the
media towards the economically powerful classes. But
they are not absolutely free of government constraint
(regulation), or social pressures from the citizens they
are supposed to serve. While state intervention has
been ambiguous, mostly providing an enabling
environment for the media to serve economically
profitable markets, it has also served its political
constituency by providing a countervailing force to
the unbridled activity of `the market'. Despite this,
however, one should still be wary of the role that
governments could play in impoverishing citizenship
by their intervention within the media sphere. As
Keane notes:
the onus must be placed on government to justify
publicly any interference with any part of the
information system. Government must not be
considered the legitimate trustee of information.
Erskine, in Paine's defence said it all: `òther
liberties are held under governments, but the liberty
of opinion keeps governments in due subjection to
their duty''. (1989:49).
This leaves the onus on us, as journalists and
members of civil society to organise and agitate for
media that serve our interests.
7 CONCLUSION
In this article I have argued that one needs to take a
cultural approach to the study of media transformation
that takes into account the interplay between economic structures, and the social and political discourses which shape them. In this view the media are
not independent economic units which either act in a
social and political vacuum, or functionally reflect the
ideology of their owners. Rather, I have stressed that
they are part of a network of forces, economic,
political and social. While the media may be powerful
economically and ideologically, in a democracy they
are also subject to social and political forces which
limit their power.
I have also emphasised that the media's role in a
democracy is to develop citizenship ± the basis on
which the media's status as Fourth Estate stands or
falls. Thus, their social value and legitimacy come from
the potential political role that they play. While on the
one hand they provide informational and symbolic
resources for citizenship; on the other, if their
increased commercialisation and privatisation limits
access to, and diversity of, these resources, then they
cease to be socially and politically useful institutions.
Given this scenario, it is arguable that their status is
not secure. They are not only the protectors of civil
society against the power of the state. They also
potentially cripple civil society in its strivings for selfgovernment. That the media are necessary is indisputable. Where and how they fit into a democracy is
what concerns us as citizens.
71
7.1 The need for further research
Having explored this complex scenario in South Africa
since becoming a democracy in 1994, I have also
indicated areas that need further research. For
example, to what extent will the proposed MDDA
provide a `public service' function of promoting and
extending access to media òwnership', access to
marginalised audiences, and to the dissemination of a
diversity of views and perspectives? Will the proposed
Presidential Press Corps become an eÂlite that has a
`special' relationship with government, or will their
increased access make them better informed, and thus
more acute and critical interpreters of the government? How has the Employment Equity Act impacted
on newsrooms, and has there been a significant
change in the sources for stories? Have the increased
strictures on `the bottom line' impacted on the quality
of journalism, and how have journalist organisations
responded to this? Are the new tabloids simply
`revenue streams' or do they also provide social and
political resources for citizenship? Will the new
isiXhosa and isiZulu-language newspapers provide
access to their readers of global issues and how they
impact on them locally, or will they promote a narrow
sense of `community' and ethnocentrism? These are
just some of the questions that relate to media
transformation ± most of them framed in `mediacentric' terms. Ultimately, the significance of these
questions is for the citizens they purport to serve.
Qualitative research is needed on media audiences to
establish the ways in which the media actually impact
on us as citizens.
NOTES
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Mouffe draws the distinction between democratic antagonism and democratic struggle: `Democratic antagonisms do not
necessarily lead to democratic struggles; democratic struggle is directed toward a wide democratization of social life'
(1988:96).
The Mail & Guardian article noted: Ìn the first two years of majority government, non-racism, equality, integration and the
rainbow nation have been proclaimed from every political pulpit by the African National Congress. But, ironically, the ANC is
finding it more difficult than it had imagined to convert all South Africans to true non-racialism and it has been forced to
accept that ethnic identities ± coloured, Zulu, Shangaan, Afrikaner ± are part of the current South african reality, part of its
troubling inheritance' (24±30 May 1996).
See Nuttall and Michael interview with Tony Parr in which Parr responds to the question, what does Àfrican' mean now?
What is seen as properly African and what is excluded from this term? `The very terms in which this question is asked (``what
is seen as properly African, what is excluded'') define the problem with this sort of enquiry: the impulse to classify, or to deny
full participation to certain people, is awakened by the question, so we should stop asking it' (2000:109).
Andile Mngxitama works for the National land Committee. His article, headlined `Globalisation is not the only road', discusses
the concurrent meetings of the World Economic Forum in New York, and the World Social Forum in Porto Alegre Brazil, in
which he'll be participating. Both are concerned with globalisation, the former a meeting of the heads of states and
multinational corporations, the latter a meeting of anti-globalisation activists, under the banner Ànother world is possible'.
The story has a colour picture of President Thabo Mbeki, in close-up, making a point as he gesticulates with a pointed finger.
The caption reads: Wrong venue ± president Thabo Mbeki.
From a survey of 24 newspapers undertaken by the author in 1999/2000 in which 1 018 journalists were surveyed, the `racial'
breakdown of the newsrooms, using the Employment Equity Act's classifications, was: African 22.6 per cent, coloured 7.5 per
cent, Indian 4.4 per cent, White 65.5 per cent, the gender breakdown was 65,5 per cent male, and 34,5 per cent female.
Companies have to supply demographic information (colour classifications) of their workforce to the Department of Labour.
However, as More (1998) points out, the contradiction here is that in order to redress the inequities of the past, the new
legislative framework still uses a concept of race (in this case, one established by Afrikaner nationalism) in order to build a
society in which `race' is not used as the basis for classifying people, that is one founded on non-racialism. This conundrum
points to the complex relationship between various discourses of `race' as a category of human classification, and racism as an
ideology.
Following the HRCs Report into Racism in the Media, Sanef (an organisation of editors, senior journalists and media trainers)
organised various kinds of training initiatives vis-aÁ-vis racism in the media; they co-organised a Training for Transformation
Colloquium of media owners, editors and journalists, media trainers, and representatives of civil society organisations (see
Steenveld 2002); they are actively involved in setting the journalism training standards for the National Qualifications
Framework; they host discussions on reporting topical and controversial issues and they have entered into negotiations with
government about the removal of apartheid-era media restrictions.
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73
Aids and political cartoons: a case study
David Wigston*
ABSTRACT
Broadly, this article looks at the role played by political
cartoons in the Aids struggle. A sample drawn from the
period 1988 to 2001 was used for this study, the purpose of
which is to discover how Aids has been represented in
political cartoons published in major South African
newspapers. Two sub-problems are identified. The first
sub-problem looks at the frequency of Aids-related
cartoons over the study period and follows a quantitative
approach using content analysis. The second sub-problem
considers the representation of Aids in cartoons and uses a
qualitative approach through the application of semiotic
analysis. This analysis is based on the interpretation of the
sign system drawing on the iconic, indexical and symbolic
elements in the cartoon. In conclusion, the value of
political cartoons is debated. Political cartoons serve as
an important adjunct to editorials, providing a summary of
a certain situation or event. As a visual image, cartoons
can instantly make a point that would be difficult to
articulate in written text and often leave a lasting
impressions on the reader. A problem in analysing political
cartoons is the lack of definitive supportive theories. A
model devised by Medhurst and Desousa, based on the
assumption that the political cartoon is a rhetorical device,
is used as the starting point.
1
2
establish the frequency of Aids-related political
cartoons.
identify and explain the meaning and relevance of
images used to represent Aids in political cartoons
1.2 Research questions
Research questions related to the first sub-problem
are as follows.
. What is the frequency of political cartoons depicting Aids over the sample period?
. What proportion of these cartoons represent the
Aids disease visually through the use of images in
the form of signs and/or symbols?
. What is the prevalence of Aids-related political
cartoons in the newspapers sampled?
Research questions related to the second subproblem are as follows:
. What images are used to represent and construct
the Aids disease in political cartoons?
. What is the frequency of these images?
. What is the meaning of the images used to
represent the Aids disease?
. How appropriate are these images within the South
African context?
1 INTRODUCTION
2 THE CONTEXT OF AIDS
1.1 The nature of the problem
In order to understand the importance of Aids-related
political cartoons, the disease known as Aids needs to
be placed in context. It was during June 1981 when
the Center for Disease Control and Prevention in the
United States of America (USA) isolated a previously
unknown and unusual cellular-immune dysfunction in
five previously healthy people (Klesius 2002:34). The
phenomenon was labelled as Acquired Immunedeficiency Syndrome, better known by the acronym, Aids,
only in the following year. The responsible virus was
only isolated in 1984 by the National Institutes of
Health in the USA, and became known as the human
immunodeficiency virus (HIV). Over the past 20 years
since its discovery, Aids has developed rapidly into a
plague with global dimensions. Despite two decades
of intensive research, the origins remain obscure.
What has been established is that the disease evolved
from a simian immunodeficiency virus (SIV), found
The purpose of this case study is to establish the
frequency of Acquired Immune-deficiency Syndrome
(Aids)-related political cartoons, and to identify and
explain the meaning and relevance of images used to
construct and represent the concept of Aids in
political cartoons published in selected daily and
weekly South African newspapers during the period
1988 to 2002 in order to:
. achieve a better understanding of the role of
political cartoons in the Aids pandemic
. clarify and explain the concepts and constructs
associated with political cartoons and the representation of Aids
. establish the possibilities of further research.
Two sub-problems can be identified, namely to
* David Wigston is a senior lecturer in the Department of Communication Science at the University of South Africa, Pretoria,
South Africa. This article is based on a paper presented at the conference on Language, Literature and the Discourse of HIV/
Aids in Africa, held at the University of Botswana, Gaberone, 24 to 28 June 2002. e-mail [email protected]
74
naturally in monkeys (Poku 2001:191). How the virus
crossed to humans remains unknown.
The way the virus functions is contradictory. While
it can overwhelm the human immune system, the virus
itself is fragile, unable to exist for more than a few
minutes in fresh air. Ordinary household soap can
easily break down and destroy the virus. The only way
the virus can be passed from human to human is
through body fluids. Yet once infected, the virus
attacks the body's immune system, lurking in the
system for eight to ten years, constantly mutating to
avoid recognition. Should the victim contract an
infection such as tuberculosis (TB) or pneumonia or
the immune system is so damaged by HIV that it
cannot react, the disease kills (Klesius 2002:37).
The statistics associated with Aids are staggering
(Klesius 2002:34). Worldwide:
.
.
.
.
36 million people carry HIV
15 000 people become infected every 24 hours
8 000 die of Aids every 24 hours
94 per cent of HIV-infected people live in developing countries.
From the statistics given in Table 1 it is clear that
Aids reached pandemic proportions during the final
decade of the twentieth century. Although subSaharan Africa does not show the greatest increase
in Aids, in terms of sheer number of victims, the area
accounts for over 70 per cent of all Aids cases.
Although Aids is not the only debilitating disease
found in Africa ± malaria and TB are but two examples
of other prevalent diseases ± it is a cause for greater
concern for the following reasons (Ainsworth & Over
1994:203):
. Aids is always fatal. There is no cure and no vaccine
for Aids, unlike malaria where fewer than 1 per cent
of cases end in death.
. Aids in Africa is affecting economically productive
adults, and skills and experience are lost through
their deaths. The increasing number of adult deaths
is also resulting in a growing number of surviving
dependants with reduced prospects.
. Aids in Africa is widespread and the social and
economic effects are already being felt. The death
rate of economically active adults has doubled and
tripled in urban areas.
. Unlike other causes of premature death, Aids
affects all strata of society.
In South Africa the infection rate has jumped from
13 per cent in 1999 to 20 per cent in 2001. Botswana
has an infection rate of 36 per cent. Together the
region represents the global epicentre of the pandemic
(Poku 2001:193±94). Infection rates are high, access
to health care is low, while social and economic safety
nets are non-existent. The impact of the disease,
together with uncertainties regarding future scenarios,
represents a huge setback for the development of the
region. To quote Poku (2001:191) `The cruel irony of
the unfolding tragedy is that Africa is also the leastequipped region in the world to deal with the
multiplicity of challenges posed by the HIV virus.'
The political and social implications of dealing with
the disease and the many Aids-related issues highlighted here are enormous and often contentious. The
role of the press in highlighting these issues is
becoming an increasingly important one in the call
for greater transparency in governance and policy
formulation ± a manifestation of increasing democratisation in the region. The political cartoon represents
Table 1
Regional Aids statistics (Klesius 2002:36±7)
AREA
Aids
sufferers
1990
Aids
sufferers
2000
%
change
Aids
orphans
2000
North America
840 000
920 000
+8,7
70 000
The Caribbean
130 000
390 000
+66,6
85 000
Latin America
700 000
1 400 000
+50,0
110 000
Western Europe
540 000
415 000
±23,1
9 000
5 000
700 000
+99,3
500
57 000
400 000
+85,8
15 000
7 000 000
25 300 000
+72,3
12 100 000
590 000
5 800 000
+89,8
850 000
4 000
640 000
+99,4
5 600
16 000
15 000
±6,3
>500
Eastern Europe and Central Asia
Middle East and North Africa
sub-Saharan Africa
South and South-east Asia
East Asia and the Pacific
Australia and New Zealand
75
but one mechanism through which a newspaper can
offer commentary on the Aids crisis.
3 THE NATURE OF THE POLITICAL CARTOON
3.1 The relationship between cartoon and
caricature
To begin, it is necessary to understand where the
political cartoon fits in in relation to other cartoon
genres. This is set out in Figure 1. In the literature the
terms cartoon and caricature are used interchangeably
and indiscriminately, which leads to considerable
confusion. What then is the distinction between a
cartoon and a caricature? Historically, cartoon refers
to the preparatory designs for a large drawing or
painting (Coupe 1969:43), while a caricature is a
graphic device used to portray an exaggerated
representation of the most characteristic features of a
person or object in a satirical and negative manner
(Streicher (1967:431±32). The link between these
two concepts can be traced back to 1843 when John
Leech described as cartoons the parodies he drew of
the cartoons for the frescos in the Houses of
Parliament, London (Coupe 1969:43). With time the
distinction between the two concepts narrowed, often
being used interchangeably when referring to a
drawing containing ridicule, although Streicher
(1967:431) considers the cartoon as a graphic
representation of actors that is value neutral since
FIGURE 1
Types of cartoons
76
the cartoon allows for both building-up and debunking.
Despite the distinction described above, the caricature is a para-artistic creation which underlies all
forms of cartoons historically. Streicher (1967:431)
continues `that what in literature is satire, in pictorial
art is caricature. Satire typically deals with demonstration and exposure of human vices or follies in order to
scorn or ridicule humans; graphic caricatures ridicule
pictorially.' Caricatures vary considerably in their
content, quality and sphere of influence, but generally
are a symbolic representation of a nation, political
party, idea or social issue. A distinction can be made
between political and social caricatures. In political
caricatures, the purpose is to ridicule, debunk or
expose persons, groups or organisations engaged in
societal power struggles. A social caricature deals
with non-political matters and has no concern
regarding the distribution of power in society.
Theoretically, the caricature is unique when compared to other forms of mass-produced art which offer
a reproduction of an object or event, such as
photographs. The caricature is not meant to exist as
an original, but as copies in a newspaper. From its
beginning, the caricature is intended for mass reproduction, aimed not at `contemplative readers' (Streicher 1967:433) but at the general public. Neither the
caricature, nor the cartoon, aims at being high art
forms, but at influence and political practice. Thus, in
contrast to other forms of mass-produced graphic art,
such as advertising which concerns itself with
techniques of building up and inflating the depicted
product, the caricature often debunks and deflates. In
this sense, the caricature is a form of propaganda
which may influence public opinion, a point to which
I return later.
Although the concept of caricature is associated
today with a form of distortion, the original concept
did not imply any form of ridicule. How then did
distortion, which is the essence of any caricature,
become associated with ridicule? Streicher (1967:
435) explains that distortion became linked with
ridicule when distortion was no longer a legitimate
feature of art. For example, during the Middle Ages in
Europe art was largely abstract and symbolic rather
than representative. Distortion was the norm. This was
replaced during the Renaissance with a more representational style based on the principles of anatomy
and perspective. Any deviation from these two
principles was considered a distortion and comical.
Acceptance and development of the caricature were
furthered when certain sectors of the public began to
see distorted images not only as ridiculous but also
nearer to the truth than the real object. For example,
during the twentieth century news reporting was seen
to have moved away from the interpretation of
meaning to factual reporting becoming value neutral.
Caricatures in political cartoons, through their interpretations of the nation, people, events and issues,
supplement factual news with a statement of meaning
through image creation.
Coupe (1969:85) disagrees with Streicher's point
of view regarding the origins of the link between
ridicule and caricature. Coupe argues that using the
printed picture for polemic purposes is as old as
printing itself. Coupe is also unhappy with Streicher's
equating the caricature with satire in literature,
arguing that any art form can be satirical without
resorting to the use of caricature, while caricature can
also be found in literature, such as in some characters
in Dickens's novels, `where characteristic features are
seized upon and exaggerated to the point of distortion, yet it is precisely by means of this distortion that
a striking impression of fidelity is conveyed'. Coupe
(1967:85) substantiates his argument by saying that
`whereas caricature in literature has almost invariable
served a satirical purpose, this was not initially the
case in graphic art' as àll good portraits contain a
trace of caricature'.
Although it is assumed that caricatures are only
used to distort images in order to portray those
represented in a negative fashion, and in so doing
represents a particular version of reality. However, it
does happen that the opposite occurs, where the
image of certain people is improved, by making them
appear more human (Streicher 1967:440). Or, in the
case of the cartoon illustrated in Figure 2, of an
organisation being more humane. This cartoon reflects
on the Constitutional Court which upheld the court
ruling where the state was required to provide antiretroviral drugs to pregnant mothers in order to
prevent mother-to-child transmission of the disease.
The image draws inspiration from Michelangelo's
painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel where
FIGURE 2
Die Burger, 6 April 2002:12. (Cartoonist: Fred Mouton. Reprinted with permission)
77
God is depicted giving life to Adam. Using a close-up
view the cartoonist, Fred Mouton of Die Burger,
depicts the Constitutional Court giving life, through a
`finger' of nivrapine to a baby, representing all babies
born of HIV-positive mothers. In the cartoon the
baby's arm replaces the arm of Adam. The cartoon
illustrated in Figure 10 is related to the same issue.
Coupe, (1969:87) deviating from the arguments of
Streicher (1967:427±445), suggests that apart from
being either negative or positive, political cartoons
can in certain instances be neither humorous nor
propagandistic. In such a case the cartoon satisfies the
reader by neatly summing up a complex situation. This
argument would allow for a category of political
cartoons that neither debunk, nor build up, but simply
offer an allegory on a given political or social situation
such as that illustrated in Figure 3. This cartoon was
published following the death of child Aids-activist,
Nkosi Johnson. Nkosi Johnson, was a 12-year-old
Aids sufferer and Aids-orphan who developed a
public persona following a speech given at the 13th
International Aids Conference in Durban, in July
2001. Here he appealed for the appropriate care,
treatment and dignity for all Aids-sufferers. As a result,
he became `the focal point for many of this country's
most pressing dilemmas' including racism and bigotry
(Trengrove-Jones 2001:13).
Figure 3 also illustrates Coupe's (1969:88) argument that the emotive value of a political cartoon does
not lie solely in the use of caricature, but rather the
manner in which the distortion appears. Emotive
appeal is added by turning the shadow into the shape
of the Aids ribbon lying across a map of Africa.
Similarly, the addition of a comet streaking across the
top of the cartoon makes reference to the interpretation in centuries past of comets as harbingers of
catastrophe. Text in the tail of the comet draws on the
title of a contemporary American fantasy television
programme with sentimental content. Such distortions needs to be taken into account when interpreting the cartoon as it can lead either to a positive or to a
negative or value-neutral interpretation of the cartoon.
3.2 Political cartoons as rhetoric
Medhurst and Desousa (1981:197±236) devised a
two-level classification scheme for analysing the
techniques of graphic persuasion found in a political
FIGURE 3
City Press, 3 Junie 2001:8. (Cartoonist: Findlay. Reprinted with permission)
78
FIGURE 4
Classification scheme for the identification of persuasive elements in a political cartoon based on a description
provided by Medhurst and Desousa (1981)
cartoon. They argue that in order to investigate the
way in which cartoons persuade, a classificatory
scheme must first exist which can highlight the
elements within the cartoon that are most likely to
persuade. Their scheme, based on the assumption that
political cartoons are a form of persuasive communication, offers such categories for identifying the
various means of graphical persuasion in a cartoon.
The scheme is illustrated in Figure 4. The first level, or
macro level, which is explained in great detail by
Medhurst and Desousa, is a general framework based
on the five canons or divisions of rhetoric used to
analyse oral persuasion, namely (Steinberg [Sa] 16±
17):
. invention, or the discovery and analysis of topics in
the subject matter
. disposition, or the structure and arrangement of the
discourse
. style, or the appropriate use of language or in this
case graphic elements
. memory, or the cartoonist's grasp of the content of
the cartoon
. delivery, or the `voice', gestures used and appropriateness of the message.
The second, or micro level examines the specific
techniques used by the cartoonist to invite audience
response, which are significantly different from those
used by the oral persuader. The purpose of the model
is to show similarities at the macro level and
differences at the micro level.
Gordon (1990:35) indicates that there are some
weaknesses evident in Medhurst and Desousa's
classification scheme. For example, greater importance should be made of the topics as they are the
central organising principles which establish the point
of view in a cartoon. The scheme also fails to address
the question of attitude in a cartoon, whether or not it
is positive, negative or value neutral. However, these
criticisms are minor when consideration is taken of the
fact that Medhurst and Desousa's model represents a
starting point in the analysis of political cartoons.
They do not detract from the model as an analytical
tool, keeping in mind that not all elements depicted in
the model need be used in an analysis of a political
cartoon.
On the effectiveness of political cartoons as
rhetoric, citing Scott Long, a cartoonist for the
Minneapolis Tribune, Bender (1963:176), suggests
that cartoons have lost their effectiveness because of
increased media competition for the reader's attention.
The reason for this is largely a result of the
technological developments in the production of a
newspaper. During the second half of the nineteenth
century, cartoons were mainly weekly features, comprising large detailed drawings produced through
lithographic processes. The development of photo
engraving made it possible to feature a daily cartoon.
The arrival of the tabloids, the cost of newsprint and
79
photo engraving resulted in a reduction of cartoon
size. By the 1920s the press had expanded as a
business enterprise, resulting in the syndication of
cartoons and the tempering of cartoon content in
order not to alienate readers.
4 METHODOLOGY
Two sub-problems are considered in this case study.
A diachronic, or longitudinal study, is used to resolve
the first sub-problem, that is, establishing the frequency of Aids-related political cartoons over a 14year period. To achieve this, a quantitative approach is
used through the application of elementary content
analyses. Content analysis is probably the best
method that can gauge and assess the manifestation
of Aids in political cartoons over a lengthy period of
time. A synchronic, or cross-sectional, study is used to
resolve the second sub-problem, that is, to identify
and explain the meaning and relevance of the images
used to represent Aids in political cartoons. Here a
qualitative approach is followed, using semiotics in
order to investigate the representation of Aids in
cartoons. The methodology followed and findings are
outlined briefly.
4.1 Diachronic analysis
4.1.1 Selecting the sample
Identifying the target population of Aids-related
political cartoons in major South African newspapers
proved to be problematic due to the following
reasons:
. the ephemeral nature of newspapers
. the relatively large number of daily and weekly
newspapers that carry political cartoons in South
Africa
. the wide geographic spread across the country of
these newspapers.
These practical problems were resolved by accessing the SA Media database provided on the
SABINET Website. A Boolean search using the
keywords `cartoons and Aids' produced a record with
252 entries. However, the search engine could not
distinguish between Aids (referring to the disease)
and Aids (referring to a form of help), which meant
that a number of entries in the record were not
relevant to this study and had to be discarded
manually. Similarly, the search engine could not
distinguish between actual political cartoons and
references to cartoons in newspaper articles, which
are also not relevant here. It came to light that the
indexing of cartoons by the Institute of Contemporary
History (INCH) was not consistent as several cartoons
clearly related to Aids were located by chance, but
were not indexed on the database as such. This leads
to the speculation of how many cartoons have been
excluded from the accessible population because of
inconsistent indexing. The probability exists that as
few as six cartoons could be missing from the
accessible population. Similarly, several cartoons were
duplicated in the database because of differences in
80
the indexing. These were also identified manually and
removed from the population.
After the various additions and deletions, an
accessible population of 247 cartoons remained.
Within this population, it was found that in seven
cases the cartoons were published simultaneously in
different newspapers within a publishing group, such
as The Saturday Star and Saturday Weekend Argus.
Thus, out of 247 published cartoons, only 240 are
unique. From this accessible population of 240
political cartoons, the actual Aids disease was
physically represented by an image in only 61
cartoons, or 25.4 per cent of the accessible population. The remaining cartoons in the population focus
on other Aids-related aspects such as government
policy or social issues, with the actual disease being
implied but not manifestly represented in the cartoon.
The first record of a cartoon depicting Aids as its
subject identified by the search appeared in the
Sowetan on 11 October 1988. This date then marks
the beginning of the sample. The sample stretches
over a 14-year period to the date of the most recently
recorded cartoon on the database at the time of the
search, 2 May 2002. It should be noted that the SA
Media database is updated on a regular basis, and a
subsequent search could locate more appropriate
cartoons. Cartoons appearing prior to 1997 had to
be located on microfiche, while the images of
cartoons appearing subsequent to 1997 were downloaded from the SA Media data base via the Internet.
While two images could not be retrieved due to
missing files, the publication data was available
through the search results and has been included in
the sample. Regarding missing data, Babbie and
Mouton (2001:147) indicate that this matter is a
frequent problem in data collection. As in the case
here, where there is the probability of only a few units
of analysis missing, it is acceptable to exclude these
from the analysis as the missing units will not bias the
findings of the case study.
A weakness of content analysis is that it cannot
ascertain the relationship between representations
and the social structures which produce them. Nor
can content analysis provide any insight regarding
how and why certain representations are used.
According to Taylor and Willis (1999:47), this
requires a qualitative approach which is directly
concerned in understanding how a certain image is
used in maintaining or challenging particular social
aspects. This approach can then reveal how dominant
ideas become naturalised in order to appear normal
and natural.
4.1.2 The frequency of Aids-related cartoons
The distribution of Aids-related political cartoons over
the study period is indicated in Figure 5. By examining
the graph, one can identify four distinct trends in the
appearance of Aids-related political cartoons.
. First: the period 1988 to 1995 shows a limited
number of cartoons appearing, varying between nil
cartoons for 1993 and a maximum of five for 1994.
. Second: in 1996 there is a sudden jump, with an
FIGURE 5
The frequency of political cartoons featuring Aids over the period 1988±2002. The data for 2002 is inclusive up to
2 May.
increase from 2 to 21 and 20 cartoons, an increase
which lasts only two years, 1996 to 1997.
. Third: a decline follows for the next two years, 1998
to 1999, although not back to the low figures of the
first period, with 7 and 13 cartoons appearing
respectively.
. Fourth: The three remaining years in the study,
2000 to 2002, show a dramatic increase in the
number of cartoons appearing, jumping from 13 to
61 cartoons. Although only measured up to 2 May
2002, the number of cartoons which appeared
almost equals that for 2001. The reason for the
sudden increase in the number of cartoons can be
related to the extensive media coverage given to
various Aids-related issues during this period, such
as the government's Aids policy.
Figure 6 shows the number of Aids-related cartoons
published per newspaper title for the study period.
With daily titles appearing that more often than
weekly ones, it was expected that the dailies would
feature more Aids-related cartoons. But this was not
case, there being a relatively even mix of weekly and
daily titles in the chart. An interesting and unexpected
finding was the appearance of two Afrikaans titles,
Die Burger and Volksblad, in the top five newspapers
in the publication of Aids-related political cartoons.
The reason for this extensive coverage lies more with
the role of the press as government watchdog than
with the number of Aids victims amongst Afrikaners.
4.2 Synchronic analysis
Although the synchronic analysis follows a qualitative
approach, some quantitative statistics are necessary in
order to provide a scientific illustration of the types of
images used to represent Aids. It is also necessary to
provide a brief orientation to the field of semiotics
before analysing a selection of cartoons identified
purposively from the accessible population because of
the way in which Aids had been depicted in those
specific cartoons.
A major criticism of a semiotic analysis is that it
ignores the quality of the work itself (Berger
1991:27), since semiotics is primarily concerned with
the establishment of meanings and cognition, that is,
the codes needed to understand a text. Another
problem area, particularly in the field of political
cartoons, is the lack of a strong theoretical foundation
that could direct further research. However, the
theoretical aspects discussed earlier are sufficient to
provide a starting point, while the content and
semiotic analyses provide meaningful data.
4.2.1 The field of semiotics
Within the field of semiotics, the basic concern is the
generation of meanings and how they are conveyed
81
FIGURE 6
The newspapers featuring Aids-related political cartoons during the period 1988 to 2002 and the percentage
of all Aids-related cartoons published by those newspapers. Titles preceded by* are weekly publications.
(Berger 1991:5). Semiotics focuses on two key
aspects in a text, that is, signs and relations; a sign
being a manifestation of an image. Meaning is
generated from the signs and the system that ties
the signs together. This is based on the premises that
nothing has meaning in itself, but takes meaning
through a relationship with some aspect or topic, not
always present, but implied in the text. The field of
semiotics can be summarised as follows (Fiske
1989:43, Berger 1991:12):
. The output of the media is referred to as texts.
. Semiotics concerns how meaning is created and
conveyed in texts.
. Different types of signs can be found in texts.
. Signs are organised by codes and conventions
which makes them understandable.
. Understanding emerges from the relationships that
exists between the signifier and signified of a sign,
which is culturally determined.
Signs can be categorised based on their relationship
between the signifier and signified (Fiske 1982:49±
51).
. An icon resembles the signified in some way, for
example, a photograph.
. In an index there is a direct link between the
82
signifier and the signified, for example, smoke is
indexical of fire.
. A symbol has no resemblance between the signifier
and signified but whose connection is a matter of
convention, agreement or rule such as words.
In general, cartoons draw on all three sign categories
in order to convey their messages.
To see a HIV virus requires the use of electron
micrographs ± a method for photographing very small
objects. Even then, the HIV virus assumes a blob-like
shape. To use an iconic sign to represent Aids would
be meaningless to most readers and the cartoon
would loose impact. Thus, for the purposes of this
case study, we can consider the Aids disease to be an
intangible construct. To represent HIV and Aids in
political cartoons, the cartoonist needs to use a
combination of indexical and symbolic signs rather
than iconic signs. Since there is no agreed relationship
between the signs used and HIV/Aids, the cartoonist
often makes additional use of symbols in the form of
words to establish the link between the image
(signifier) and the concept (signified). This can be
seen in the cartoons illustrated in Figures 10 to 16.
4.2.2 Codes
Fiske (1982:20) defines codes as a `system of meaning common to members of a culture'. A code
comprises both the sign and the conventions for
interpreting that sign. The meaning generated by a
sign is made up of a concept, referred to as the
signified while the physical image is known as the
signifier. Although these two aspects of a sign can
only be separated artificially, their relationship is
crucial to the understanding of how meanings are
generated. Berger (1991:8) says that `there is no
logical connection between a ... signifier and signified,
a point that makes finding meaning in texts interesting
and problematical'. If the relationship between the
signifier and signified is arbitrary, then the resultant
meaning must be learnt through the use of structured
associations or codes. In addition, this relationship is
constantly changing. If one understands the conventions used in the codes, then there is a good
possibility that one can correctly interpret the sign.
However, if codes have changed or are foreign to the
reader, the result can be confusion. Either there is a
misinterpretation of the sign or no interpretation at all.
What complicates the reading of signs is the fact `that,
generally speaking, people are not consciously aware
of the rules and codes and cannot articulate them'
(Berger 1991:12). The process of reading a text is
largely a subconscious one.
Codes are therefore highly complex patterns of
association that develop and have to be learnt within
the context of a particular culture or society (Berger
1991:23). Culture then plays an important part in
decoding. Interpreting various codes is allied to
socialisation and is indicative of social class, geographic location, levels of education, culture and so
on. Berger (1991:25±6) suggests that it is easy to
misinterpret signs due to aberrant decoding, where
`people bring different codes to a given message and
thus interpret it in different ways'. Aberrant decoding
is considered the norm in interpreting mass-mediated
messages because of the wide gap that can exist
between those who create the message and the
recipients. This gap is largely due to differences in
social class, education, ideologies and so on. Codes
are difficult to see because they are all-pervasive and
specific.
4.2.3 The concept of representation
Cartoonists, as communicators, convey meanings
about the social environment through their drawings.
This requires the use of a variety of signs drawn onto
paper which then represent that social environment.
For the purposes of this case study the concept of
representation in political cartoons is taken to mean
`the practice of placing different signs together in
order to render complex abstract concepts intelligible
and meaningful' (Taylor & Willis 1999:39). Within the
context of this definition it becomes possible to
represent a wide variety of social aspects through
the use of appropriate signs. The reader of the cartoon
then makes sense of these difference signs through
cognitive processes. In the case of Aids, which is
neither tangible nor readily observable, it becomes
FIGURE 7
Saturday Weekend Argus, 23 February 2002:18 (Cartoonist: Dr Jack. Reprinted with permission)
83
necessary for the cartoonist to make use of disparate
images in order to construct a representation of the
disease. This process involves selection and construction on the part of the cartoonist, who then creates a
particular meaning from the symbols used. Taylor and
Willis (1999:40) consider this process as ideological,
as the resultant cartoon is saying something about the
cartoonists and that which is represented in the
cartoon. In addition, there is no single way in which
a social concept can be represented. Taylor and Willis
(1999:40) write:
The very fact that representations, when set alongside one another, do amount to different, sometimes even contradictory versions of an event or
group, serves to highlight their construction. No
cultural representation can offer access to the
``truth'' about what is being represented, but what
such representations do provide is an indication
about how power relations are organised in a
society, at certain historical moments.
These various images are also in competition with
one another for legitimacy. Representation then
becomes a site in the struggle for meaning. The
cartoons illustrated in Figures 7 and 8 demonstrate
this point where the two cartoonists have presented
differing interpretations of the same event.
Briefly, the event arose following differences of
opinion between former President Nelson Mandela
and President Mbeki over the ANC's handling of its
Aids policy. In a criticism of government policy,
`Mandela said effective treatment could reduce the
number of babies infected by HIV each year by 50%'
(Mamaila 2002:1). Mandela publically admitted that
he was concerned that debates around Aids detracted
attention from the core concerns. After a subsequent
meeting between Mandela and Mbeki to discuss
relations between the two, Mandela said `he would
not discuss the HIV/Aids issue without first consulting the ANC' (Kalideen 2002:1). This was followed by
an about turn during which Mandela announced that
`the way our government is handling this is the best in
the world' (Kalideen 2002:1). The cartoon featured in
Figure 7, which appeared in the Saturday Weekend
Argus, played on the statement by Mandela Ònce the
government briefs you ... you will see that they are
doing everything in their power to address the matter
correctly' (Kalideen 2002:1). In the cartoon Mandela
is depicted with bandaged fingers, while a silhouetted
figure representing Mbeki, identified by the ubiquitous pipe, disposes of a hammer and pair of pliers into
a bin, suggesting torture as the means of changing
Mandela's point of view. An alternative point of view
on the same incident formed the basis of the cartoon
illustrated in Figure 8, which featured in the Sunday
Independent. Amongst a number of issues dealt with
in this cartoon, the play here is on the problem of
communication by the government and suggests a
more benign method of persuasion was used to
change Mandela's mind. Ironically, both newspapers
in which these two cartoons appeared belong to the
same newspaper group, Independent Newspapers.
To identify the images used to represent Aids
quantitative content analysis techniques were applied
to the 61 political cartoons contained in the accessible
FIGURE 8
Sunday Independent, 24 February 2002:8. (Cartoonist: Grogan. Reprinted with permission)
84
population. The following criteria were used to
establish the categories. Where the same image was
used in two or more cartoons, a unique category was
created for that image. Images that occurred only once
were accommodated in an òthers' category. The
various categories that emerged from this analysis
together with the frequency of each category are
indicated in Figure 9. Eleven images were recorded as
occurring more than once, while the òthers' category
contained ten differing images giving a total of
twenty-one different images used to represent Aids.
5 THE CONTEXT OF AIDS IN POLITICAL
CARTOONS
Although 21 different images have been identified as
representative of the Aids disease, within the confines
of this case study, it is only possible to discuss a few
of them.
5.1 The Reaper
The image that occurs most often as the Aids disease
is that of the Grim Reaper, featuring in 18 cartoons or
29.5 per cent of the sample. The image of death has
taken many forms through the ages, but the use of a
skeleton tends to predominate from the fourteenth
Century onwards, originating in the Danse Macabre or
the Dance of Death, which was a reaction to the
hardships of the feudal system and the horrors of the
bubonic plague. From 1347 to 1350 a quarter of
Europe's population died as a result of either the
plague, war, famine or poverty. The dance was
associated with the superstition that the dead danced
on their graves to lure the living. Men dressed up in
cloaks to represent emperors, bishops, and peasants
with the idea that all are equal when facing death. In
their macabre celebrations people confronted their
mortality and championed death as the avenger over
their masters and their hardships (Newman 1998). As
a personification, death as a skeleton usually appears
with a scythe which is symbolic of all-destroying time
and death, and an hourglass which, because it has to
be turned, represents the cyclic nature of beginnings
and ending. However, none of the Reaper images
used were depicted with an hourglass, but most were
depicted with a scythe.
An example of the use of the Grim Reaper can be
found in the cartoon illustrated in Figure 10. This
cartoon also draws on a literary cultural allusion as its
topic, featuring a three-part dream sequence based on
the Charles Dickens novel A Christmas Carol. However, in this cartoon the Ghosts take the form, in two
cases, of the Grim Reaper representing infant mortality
as a result of Aids. The third ghost is portrayed as the
personification of Justice. The novel tells the tale of a
miser's conversion through the agencies of love and
fear, and is perhaps best known for its allegorical
dream vision featuring the Ghosts of the Past, the
Present and the Future which portray ignorance and
want (Ganz 1998). These values are then projected
through the `Ghosts' onto the sleeper who is
represented as President Mbeki. The cartoon comments on government policy regarding the possible
FIGURE 9
The frequency with which various images are used to represent Aids manifestly in political cartoons
during the period 1988 to 2002.
85
FIGURE 10
Sunday Times, 16 December 2001:16. (Cartoonist: Zapiro. Reprinted with permission.)
FIGURE 11
The Star, 13 October 1988:8 (Cartoonist: Der Fedler. Reprinted with permission.)
86
FIGURE 12
Volksblad, 14 February 2002:12. (Cartoonist: C. Marcus. Reprinted with permission.)
prevention of mother-to-child transfer of the disease
and the forthcoming court action in that regard.
5.2 The monster
The use of a monster to represent the Aids disease
occurs in seven cartoons. Monster images are often
used to personify anxieties and threatening aspects of
the mind and this is clearly evident in the cartoon
featured in Figure 11 (Becker 1994:201).
An unusual variation on the monster theme is
illustrated in Figure 12. This cartoon carries the
monster concept through to that of a monster truck.
Here we see a Frankensteinesque steam-roller representing Aids about to flatten all in its path. This
cartoon plays on the fact the presidential motorcade
had been involved in a minor bumper-bashing a few
days earlier on the M1, the major highway connecting
Johannesburg with Pretoria. President Mbeki is
characteristically portrayed with, and identified by,
his pipe. Black humour appears through the interesting addition of a vulture perched above the cab of the
monster vehicle, making amorous overtures to a
sparrow ± the cartoon was published on St Valentine's
Day. Apart from being a bird of prey, within the
African context, the vulture is also a symbol of death.
Because it feeds on the carcasses of animals, and in
the process transforms them into life energy the
vulture is seen as a creature that possesses the secret
of transforming worthless material into gold (Becker
1994:321). However, according to American Indian
cultures, the vulture is also a symbolic creature
associated with the cleansing and animating power
of fire and the sun.
5.3 The dragon
While only occurring in four cartoons, the concepts
associated with dragon images are significant enough
to warrant a discussion of dragons. Dragons are
mythical creatures found in many cultures across the
globe. They are described by Becker (1994:87) as à
living, fantastic hybrid creature'. The concept has
deep religious connotations, being associated with a
serpent and is seen to possess primeval powers that
are hostile to God and which must be conquered. A
number of myths exist telling the tale of the slaying of
the dragon, such as that by Zeus, Apollo, Siegfried
and St George. In these tales the dragon is seen as a
manifestation of the chaos that existed in the world
and which threatened the Creation and must be
conquered. The dragon is also seen as a symbol of
the devil. The myth of dragons feeding on maidens
originates in the Book of Revelations. In addition to
these concepts, the dragon is also seen in legends as
the guardian of a treasure, which could be a
kidnapped princess, and thus symbolises the difficulties that need to be overcome before a lofty goal is
reached. According to Jung, the slaying of a dragon is
the manifestation of a fight between the ego and
regressive forces of the unconscious (Becker
1994:87). All these interpretations are appropriate to
87
the cartoon illustrated in Figure 13, where the Aids
dragon needs to be conquered. But this cartoon also
carries a double-edged meaning. While the Minister of
Health, Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, assumes the role
of St George, she is also depicted sitting atop the
dragon, much like that of an Indian mahout (an
elephant driver) and has no intension of slaying the
dragon. This second meaning is reinforced visually by
the large number of skulls surrounding the dragon,
victims from previous meals.
In contrast to the negative perceptions associated
with the dragon in Western cultures, Oriental cultures
attach positive attributes. In Hinduism, the dragon is
regarded as a powerful spiritual being that offers
immortality. As a result, in China and Japan, the
dragon is revered as an object that brings good
fortune, grants fertility and keeps demons at bay. If
one looks at the cartoon illustrated in Figure 13, it
becomes clear from the brief discussion above that
cultural determined meanings have a very strong
influence in the way this cartoon could be interpreted.
In some African cultures the dragon is perceived
negatively, being associated with serpents, and is
usually considered as a taboo and to be avoided. From
an Oriental perspective the cartoon could be seen as
positive, while from a Western perspective, the image
could be perceived negatively. As a result of these
various meanings associated with dragons, it is
possible that a reading of the cartoon in Figure 13
could be in total opposition to that intended by the
cartoonist.
5.4 The giant
Because of their larger-than-life appearance, giants
can be seen as the personification of tremendous and
powerful forces of nature. They are the opponents of
the gods and of humans. Becker (1994:127) writes
that battles with giants, as indicated in the cartoons
illustrated in Figure 14, symbolise man's self-assertion
vis-aÁ-vis nature. Here we also have a reversal of the
David and Goliath roles, with a condom replacing the
sling-shot.
Figure 15 shows Dr Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma
when she was serving as Minister of Health. This
cartoon appeared following a disclosure that the
Minister's anti-Aids campaign was a failure as the
rate of infection had increased dramatically. The rate
of infection for teenage girls had risen to 65.4 per cent
while the rate of infection for all women was 33.8 per
cent (Ellis 1999:10). The government was criticised
that its Aids policy did not go much beyond posturing.
In this cartoon, Zuma is likened to that of Don
Quixote, hero of the classic novel written in 1605 by
Miguel de Cervantes. Deluded by the grandiose ideals
of the knights errant, Quixote sets out on an
emaciated horse in order to seek chivalrous adventures so that he can gain honour and fame by fighting
dragons, rescuing damsels in distress and uplifting the
oppressed. However, Quixote's efforts are misguided
and unsuccessful (Betts 1998, Eisenberg 1998).
This cartoon draws on one of Quixote's adventures,
where he imagines a large group of windmills as
giants `with whom I mean to fight, and deprive them
FIGURE 13
Mail & Guardian, 29 March 2001. (Cartoonist: Zapiro. Reprinted
with permission.)
88
FIGURE 14
Sowetan Sunday World, 1999 September:16. (Cartoonist: Dr Jack. Reprinted with permission.)
FIGURE 15
Die Volksblad, 5 March 1999:10. (Cartoonist: Marais. Reprinted with permission.)
89
all of their lives, with whose spoils we will begin to be
rich; for this is a good war, and a great service unto
God, to take away so bad a seed from the face of the
earth' (Cervantes 1980:60). Quixote rushes at the
turning sails, which he sees as flailing arms, with a
lance. However, at that moment the wind picks up
and Quixote's lance sticks in the turning sails,
upending both Quixote and his horse. In the cartoon
the windmill giants are labelled as the Aids disease,
while Zuma rushes at them on a donkey with a
hypodermic lance. The hypodermic syringe carries the
label Zuma-woema, which parodies a slogan used by
Sasol in promoting its petrol ± which is claimed to
give cars `get-up-and-go'. The syringe is also a larger
metaphor for Zuma's role as Minister of Health.
Good use is made in this cartoon of metonymic
devices which act as reminders of past events
associated with the minister. These devices are often
small images strategically placed in the cartoon, such
as the no smoking sign located on the rump of the
donkey. This symbol stands for the minister's draconian efforts at outlawing smoking in public and
workplaces. Similarly, the broken name board bearing
the name Sarafina stands for the entire deÂbaÃcle
associated with Sarafina II, a highly expensive project
launched by the Minister in an attempt at Aids
awareness that came to nothing. Similarly, the
tipped-over bottle of virodene stands for the false
hopes created by this drug as a potential solution to
the Aids problem. In the meantime, the donkey leaves
behind it nothing but a trail of devastation and
destruction while its mistress seeks out a new
adventure.
5.5 Fire
Fire, as a symbol, has diverse meaning depending on
the originating culture. It can be seen as holy,
purifying and renewing, but this is not the context
used in the cartoon shown in Figure 16. Here, fire is
used to symbolise a complex set of meanings
comprising destruction, war, evil, hell and divine
wrath (Becker 1992:113). The fire in the background
is reminiscent of the fire of Sodom and Gomorrah. In
this cartoon President Mbeki is portrayed in a Roman
toga, while the number of violins suggests a comparison with Emperor Nero who was traditionally
considered to have fiddled while Rome burnt. However, this legend is not altogether correct. Linderski
(1998) writes that Nero was not shy of displaying his
talents in public, often showing off in public as a
chariot driver, singer and musician. In AD64 Nero was
rumoured to have started the fire himself to make
room for a new palace but that he had recited poetry
while watching the blaze. Nero ruled unrestrained,
and in AD62 reintroduced the law of treason, in terms
of which people could be executed merely on
suspicion of an offence. To avert suspicion from
himself, Nero blamed the Christians for the fire, thus
starting the first major persecution of Christians.
FIGURE 16
Sunday Times, 28 October 2001:20. (Cartoonist: Zapiro. Reprinted with permission.)
90
Communicatio, 28(2) 2002 (91±102)
Claudius Caesar ruled Rome from AD 54 to 68
(Linderski 1998).
The cartoon summarises a number of aspects
surround Mbeki's attitude at the time of publication
towards the Aids crisis. The labels above the various
violins point toward these attitudes. Mbeki was
sharply criticised in the media for (South Africa's
Mbeki ... 2001:4):
. claiming there was no direct link between HIV and
Aids (fiddle the science)
. Aids did not constitute an emergency in South
Africa
. block the use of anti-retrovirals in the public health
system on the ground of cost and safety (fiddle the
studies)
. claim that road accidents and violence killed more
people than Aids (fiddle the statistics).
The success of the cartoon hinges on an understanding of the play on the various meanings of the
word fiddle. The origin of the word lies in the Latin,
vitulari, meaning to celebrate a festival, which also has
Roman connections. In this context the following
meanings can be applied to the cartoon:
.
.
.
.
a stringed musical instrument similar to a violin
to play the instrument
to make frivolous movements or be idle
to cheat.
6. THE ROLE OF POLITICAL CARTOONS IN
THE AIDS DEBATE
6.1 The political cartoon as a change agent
Apart from drawing attention to an issue, can the
political cartoon change opinions? The impact on
readers of Aids-related political cartoons needs to be
considered by asking to what extent can the political
cartoon change opinions regarding the issues surrounds Aids. To gain some indication of the effects of
political cartoons in changing opinions there are two
research studies one needs to consider, that of
Brinkman (1968:724±26) and Carl (1968:533±35).
An experiment by Brinkman (1968:725±26) sets
out to determine the most effective way of presenting
cartoons in order to achieve change of opinions. His
findings were as follows.
. Cartoons presented with editorials result in greater
opinion change than the presentation of cartoons
or editorials alone.
. An editorial presented alone results in greater
opinion change than a cartoon alone.
. An editorial that contradicts an accompanying
cartoon results in reversion (reinforces the original
opinion held), while an editorial that supports an
accompanying cartoon results in conversion (attitude change in accord with the position put
forward).
. Editorials and cartoons presented together are most
effective in achieving opinion change.
. Similar arguments used in cartoons and editorial are
more effective in producing closure (freezing of
beliefs in opinion change) than alternative arguments.
In general, Brinkman's study (1968:726) shows that
cartoons can theoretically bring about opinion change
under certain ideal circumstances.
However, a significant factor in the facilitation of
opinion change is the correct interpretation of the
political cartoon. A key study undertaken by Carl
(1968:533) found that a high percentage of readers
misinterpreted the meaning of the political cartoon. In
the study, the meaning attached to a cartoon by a
reader was compared with the meaning provided by
the cartoonist. Findings from the study indicated that
readers' interpretation of cartoons varied dramatically
from the original intention of the cartoonist. Correct
interpretations varied according to employment level
(which was determined, in turn, by education levels)
and class status. White-collar respondents showed a
higher correlation (22%) than blue-collar respondents
(9%) with the artists' intention. The evidence provided
by this study implies that in most cases cartoonists are
not getting their messages across to readers. This
finding has a negative impact on the use of political
cartoons in facilitating change in opinion.
Carl (1968:535) writes in the conclusion of his
report that `the assumption has been [falsely] made by
many that political cartoons are easy to understand ±
easier than the written word'. It would seem that a
number of factors are at work in the interpretation of a
political cartoon, such as:
.
.
.
.
.
.
the reader's ability to perceive detail in the drawing
cultural background
environment
psychological mindset
knowledge of current events and history
the ability to see analogies and a knowledge of
allegories.
In addition to the above, the cartoonist is also faced
with the difficulty of rendering complex problems into
the simple binary opposition of `good guy ± bad guy'
(Bender 1963:178). Bender (1963:175) and Rhodes
(179:47) are of the opinion that the ability of the
political cartoon to influence events and opinions is
limited. One would think that because cartoons have
been in existence for so long and are so widely used
throughout the world that they would `have had
significant influence on men's thoughts' (Bender
1963:176). But, historically, there are `few, if any,
political or social or religious trends which have been
materially affected by the use of cartoons'. Perhaps,
with one or two exceptions, the political cartoon has
not been responsible for significant change. The
reason for this can be ascribed to the fact that even
in unambiguous and inoffensive cartoons there is a
surprising variety of reactions, which is further
complicated when readers are culturally or historically
remote from the text (Coupe 1969:83). With so many
variables at work in the interpretation of cartoons it
becomes increasingly difficult to establish scientifi91
cally the reasons for the impact of a particular cartoon
on a group of readers.
The probability of readers' correctly interpreting the
message remains a moot point when one looks at the
cartoons in the population used for this case study.
Take, as an example, the case of the cartoon illustrated
in Figure 10. Unless the reader has a knowledge of
Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol, the whole argument put forward in the cartoon is missed. Other Aidsrelated cartoons that draw on cultural and literary
allusions, such as Alice in Wonderland and Don
Quixote can be found in the population.
To highlight the problems inherent in interpreting a
cartoon, a quick survey was conducted amongst
postgraduate students in the Department of Communication Science at the University of South Africa
(Unisa). Eleven students were shown the cartoon
illustrated in Figure 11 and then asked to interpret
some of the elements and the cartoon as a whole. This
particular cartoon was selected because of the
complex nature of the elements contained in the
drawing which could add to the difficulty in interpretation. It was expected that being Communication
students at a postgraduate level, the respondents
would be able to read and interpret the cartoon easily
and accurately. This survey should be regarded as a
scientific illustration only, since rigorous research
procedures were not followed. The findings were as
follows.
. When asked to identify the creature in the cartoon,
ten responded correctly that it was either a dragon,
dinosaur or monster. One student saw the creature
as a fish.
. However, when asked what the creature represented, only two students saw it as a metaphor for
Aids. One student interpreted the creature as
representative of the government, while others
saw it in more generic terms as a threat, danger, a
dilemma, a disease or simply in manifest terms as a
monster.
. Although only two saw the creature as representative of Aids, when asked what visual clue in the
cartoon determined their response to the previous
question, six responded with the word Aids written
across the creature. Other responses included the
people, the big mouth, and the fire while one
student did not know.
. Although not a particularly good likeness, six
students correctly identified the man in the cartoon
as representative of President Mbeki. One simply
said it was a man, three did not know, while
another said it was Kader Asmal, the Minister of
Education, because he was surrounded by children.
. When asked what was surrounding the creature,
five responded that it was an egg shell. Other
responses included danger, the loss of life, breaking
down and a `don't know'. Only one respondent saw
it as the earth being shattered, the visual clue here
being the outline of the African continent behind
President Mbeki's image.
. Nine students correctly identified that the issued
addressed by the cartoon was Aids and that the
92
disease represented a danger and death, but could
not comment any further. One student did not
know what issue the cartoon represented. This left
only one student who could read a deeper meaning
into the cartoon. In response to the question
èxplain what issue is being addressed in this
cartoon' the student wrote that the cartoon àddresses the President's stance on HIV/Aids and his
support of dissident views about Aids'. The visual
clue used here to interpret the cartoon was the
`Save Our Selves' written in the bottom right-hand
corner.
Although no generalisations can be made from this
survey, these findings suggest that readers (and even
highly educated ones at that) are likely to misinterpret
elements in a cartoon. Thus, although they can
correctly identify the subject matter, they are unlikely
to understand the deeper message and piece together
the complex political situation summarised in the
cartoon. This reinforces the point that it is incorrect to
assume that political cartoons are easily understood.
From this survey it can then be implied that the use
of images, such as the Reaper, the dragon, the giant
and fire to represent Aids can prove problematic for
audiences with lower levels of education. Because of
the disparity in education in South Africa ± a legacy of
the apartheid era ± the very audience who should be
taking note of the subtle and hidden messages in
political cartoons are often ill-equipped to interpret
these cartoons correctly. In addition, as the cartoonists represented in the population are white, the
tendency is for them to draw on eurocentric images in
their cartoons. Images such as the Reaper and the
dragon have their origins in Medieval Europe, and are
alien to African cultures and therefore not understood.
In order to reach that part of the population most at
risk, it would be more appropriate to make use of
images from Africa folklore rather than what is to most
Africans an unknown foreign culture. Sadly, there is
no easy solution to these problems.
6.2 The value of political cartoons
Rhodes (1979:46±7) criticises the political cartoon as
being anti-humanist, based on the following argument: The political cartoon
. subjects public figures to ridicule, which, claims
Rhodes, deters potential candidates from government service
. over-simplifies major issues, which then become
Manichean in nature with one side right and the
opposing point of view, wrong
. uses violence to illustrate a point, albeit symbolic in
nature.
Apart from presenting a weak argument, in a
counter response to the first point made by Rhodes
above, Bender (1963:178) writes that public figures
`caricature themselves on television ... the cartoonists
no longer has to do it'. Television is the medium `for
exposing the ``frauds'''. Bender continues, `[t]he
cartoonists is then left to explore `ìdeas'' in the form
of satire ...'.
Based on his argument summarised above, Rhodes
considers the political cartoon as a throwback to
yellow journalism, and calls for a dramatic change in
artists' style, failing which, an abandonment of the
political cartoon altogether. Brinkman (1968:724),
quoting cartoonist Bill Mauldin, says that `cartoons is
[sic] essentially a destructive art, but that is serves a
definite purpose'. The prime function of the political
cartoon is that of an attention getter. This function of
the political cartoon can then be explained in terms of
the agenda setting theory of McCombs and Shaw
(1972:176±187) which, in simple terms, holds that
the media tell us what to think about. The representation of issues in the media, in terms of the agenda
setting theory, therefore has an effect on the content
and significance of those issues in public opinion,
although it should be noted that there are other
influences at work in the creation of public opinion as
well, such as policy and corporate agendas (Watson
1998:115).
In conclusion, McQuail (1994:356) notes that
current èvidence is insufficient to show a causal
connection between various issue `àgendas'' '. To
establish the role played by political cartoons in
changing or influencing opinions regarding Aids one
needs to combine a content analysis of cartoons
together with evidence of opinion change over a
period of time in a sample drawn from the public
identified as regular readers of the newspapers
concerned. Even so, such research would probably
be hampered by the vast number of variables that
could influence attitude change within respondents.
In the interim, if political cartoons do no more than
draw public attention to the various Aids-related
issues then they can be considered as having played
a small, but nevertheless vital, role in the fight against
Aids.
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