Some lessons from Fearless Felix

Watching Felix Baumgartner free-fall from space and break the sound barrier was extraordinary. As he climbed out of his little balloon with the curve of the earth below him, I was in awe of both what he had decided to do and the sheer beauty of the earth below.

But what I found equally remarkable was his attitude. Despite the seeming madness of his space dive, he says he is not an adrenaline junkie – rather, he says, he is a ‘risk manager’. He also seemed acutely aware of his family throughout the feat, saying he was worried about dying in front of his loved ones. If you google ‘Fearless Felix’ you will find many references to his family – they are obviously important to him. He seems to have used his family’s support as a foundation rather than a ceiling for achieving his outlandish dreams.

Further, as he stepped out of the capsule, he says, all he could think of was returning home alive. The world record, or so he claims, was not his primary concern at that moment. In other words, despite his ostensibly daredevil antics, when staring potential death in the face, it was his family and his life he valued the most. This is natural, although his words and deeds got me thinking about the idea of what is important in this life.

Family is obviously one of the most vital parts of our lives. Most of us would think about them at a time of danger, whether self-inflicted or not. But the notion of family can also be twisted, especially politically. More and more politicians these days are exploiting our basic urges to want to be with and to look after those closest to us.

Returning to family values is the rally- ing cry of many politicians across the globe. Even Jacob Zuma, who perhaps cannot escape the issue of family, given the size of his, recently also called for a return to family values.

But what does this really mean? Of course, it makes intuitive sense as we all care for our families, and growing up in a supportive environment of any form is important in human development. But putting your family first can also be a selfish act.

Thinking of your family in the first instance can be reduced to doing what- ever is necessary to improve their life chances. The extreme end of this equates with exploiting or harming others in the pursuit of your family’s happiness and prosperity.

My problem with the idea of family first is that it sounds wholesome, and who would disagree. But, deep down, it feeds a very conservative tendency of focusing on you and your kin above community or society.

By evoking the family as a core social principle, politicians often allow us to feel good about doing self-centred things like supporting tax breaks for people of the same social class, or welfare cuts if one is not on welfare as well.

But, returning to Fearless Felix standing outside his diminutive space capsule with the world below, one cannot but be struck by how small we all are in this universe. As he has said: “Sometimes you have to go up really high to understand how small you are.” You would think this realisation would make us as a species want to be closer, to cooperate more and work together.

Yet, perversely, it seems the more we realise the expanse of the universe and all its diversity, the more we seem to retreat into our families and the little worlds we all inhabit in our day-to-day lives. With this mindset, we are easy pickings for politicians who want us to support conservative ideas, which equates with putting your self-interests before those of society. This might in the short term make each of us feel secure, but in the long run it is a recipe for social disaster.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 26 October 2012 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Social media – friend or foe?

I am somewhat addicted to Twitter, and marginally hooked on Facebook. I find them useful in following multiple news sources, building a work profile and staying in contact with friends across the globe. That said, I think (and this is what all addicts say, apparently) I can control my habit. I definitely prefer human company to my computer and feel that social media should enhance life, not subsume it.

That said, there is an addictive element to social media (or, perhaps, to my personality). Being constantly in touch with people and getting blow-by-blow accounts of events can be compelling.

Researchers at Harvard, according to Helpguide.org, have found some evidence that the act of disclosing information about oneself is connected to the same regions of the brain that are linked to reward. This could be one reason why some people can be compelled to post and share information on social media.

But can we really become hooked on social media?

Some psychiatrists (perhaps desperate for new business which they may even pick up online) have called for the consideration of a social media addiction disorder. In fact, some are now talking about Facebook Addiction Disorder, amusingly called FAD. If you search Facebook, you can, rather ironically, find several pages on it.

Dr Cecilie Schou Andreassen heads the Facebook Addiction Project at the University of Bergen. Preliminary research by the Bergen team apparently suggests that younger people and women are more likely to be addicted to Facebook.

Social media addiction, or so the so-called experts say, can result, paradoxically, in social withdrawal. Some academics also say there may be a link between narcissism and Facebook and Twitter use, but others argue that sharing enhances relationships and intimacy. Still others claim that the increasing use of social media suggests a collapse in interpersonal face-to-face contact.

This is, arguably, nowhere more evident than the explosion in dating sites on the Internet. Meeting people on the Internet through such media might point to an increasingly disconnected world where we can no longer connect in person, or our communities are so shattered and our lives too busy to relate in traditional ways.

But people are using dating sites and social media to connect in their droves. In the US, the dating sites industry is a $2-billion business, and revenues have increased by 50% in the last year. Twitter has about 100-million users and Facebook now has a whopping 850 000-million users, and both are growing daily. In other words, nearly one-seventh of the planet is using Facebook.

The sheer volume suggests that people must be getting something out of it, and it would be wrong to simply pathologise the increasing use of the Internet and desire to connect with others as an addiction or something trivial.

The world has changed. Harping on about the good old days when people met at the corner café seems pointless to me. Not exploiting new ways to connect with others is self-defeating. I also think scare stories about increasing levels of dependence and growing social decline because of the Internet are unproductive.

New technologies have always provoked different forms of moral panic. Rock music and Elvis Presley’s hips were going to be the ruin of civilisation. Television was going to turn our brains to mush.

Of course, one can debate the merits of television and some music. But what is indisputable about them and many technologies is that they are born out of creativity. The question, therefore, for me, is not about social media addiction, but rather about how it can be used positively in terms of collaboration, new ideas and innovation.

So more focus is needed on how we can all, young and old, learn to harness the opportunity social media offers, good and bad. Spending energy on teaching creativity is far more productive than prevaricating on the evils in the world and trying to guard against them.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 23 August 2012 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Putting the Presidential pickle in perspective

I was 17 when I personally first encountered censorship. I produced a school play in the late 1980s which reached the finals of a play festival in Johannesburg.

Unbeknown to me, the play I selected, Egoli, by Matsemela Manaka, was banned. The play focused on the hardships under apartheid of two mineworkers, played by black friends at my integrated school. At the time, I was politically naïve. To me, the play simply represented suffering and was an interesting story.

After we had reached the final, which meant the play would be shown to a large audience, I was informed we could not perform it, as it was banned. Our English teacher was then hauled before a censor board. We miraculously received permission to put the play on one more time only. We performed the play and came second. I believe we lost because of the play's political content, but I am biased.

My story is minor compared with the censorship many artists experienced under apartheid. Dozens fled the country because the State disapproved of their art. Some were killed. Yet my story also highlights how the apartheid State tried to regulate all aspects of life, even trivially involving itself with a schoolboy.

But South Africa has changed. The Constitution protects artistic expression. The African National Congress (ANC) was instrumental in achieving this. However, given its approach to the furore over Brett Murray's painting, The Spear, many are asking if the party is now rolling back these freedoms.

Murray's painting is distasteful and, no doubt, President Jacob Zuma and his family felt offended. But does this justify mobilising State and political party resources to deal with the President's feelings? If Zuma felt affronted, he could have sued for defamation. Instead, he turned the matter into a national issue.

I accept that the painting may represent a deep-seated racism to some, and many whites still fail to acknowledge the pain caused by apartheid. But, if these are the concerns of the President and the ANC, they should foster national debate on the subject in a sensible and considered way, leading from the front. Instead, as emotions erupted over the painting, the President and the ANC chose to fan the flames.

>The President lectured Murray on his lack of responsibility in exercising his right to expression. However, in my book, the President, who is, after all, the most powerful person in the country, showed a lack of responsibility in dramatically intensifying a volatile situation before calling for debate and understanding.

Over the ten days following the controversy, the ANC released 12 press statements – half these were about the painting. This points to an increasingly self- obsessed party that is losing sight of real issues.

A confident party and a confident President would not concern themselves with a picture hanging in a gallery frequented by a handful of patrons. The ANC and the President chose to make the painting an issue.

Meanwhile, in Syria over 100 people died in a single massacre, many of them children. The ANC, with strong connections to China and Russia, could have used the energies expended on caw-cawing about a painting to help put pressure on Syria, not to mention addressing pressing local issues such as poverty. Instead, the ANC focused on a fictitious representation of the President's penis.

So, like the censors that sought me out over 20 years ago, the ruling elite in South Africa run the risk of trying to micromanage society, vainly believing they can get everyone to think like them.

I hope The Spear debacle is not part of such a trend. However, the President's attempts to censor a painting and calls by senior ANC figures to destroy it point to a party that may be on a precipice. If they step over it, it is only a matter of time before they will be chasing schoolboys around for drawing the President's genitals on a toilet wall.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 8 June 2012 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

The serious business of tree hugging

Back in 2001, infamous tough politician from Sinn Fein, Gerry Adams, admitted that he liked hugging trees. At the time, he noted: “Hugging trees has a calming affect on me. I’m talking about enormous trees that will be there when we are all dead and gone.”

This week, I was amusingly accused of being a tree hugger after I circulated a petition to save a forest in Northern Ireland known as the Prehen woodland.

By global standards, this forest is minuscule. The remaining tract of forest in Prehen, just outside Derry, covers 18.5 acres, compared to the 1.7-billion acres of the Amazon forest basin.

But this small forest is also unique. It is an ancient woodland with trees dating back to the 1600s and is one of the few ancient woodlands left on the island of Ireland. One of the last colonies of indigenous red squirrels lives in the forest and it offers local people a green area on the edge of the city.

Nonetheless, the local government and planners still allow continued encroachment on the forest, giving developers licence to chop down ageless trees to build luxury homes. The developers then have the gall to advertise the new homes as located in a forest setting.

The savagery the officials have allowed on this tiny forest over the years is disgraceful, but is also part of a bigger global problem.

Prehen Ancient Woodland

Forests cover about 30% of the world’s land area. But deforestation continues at an alarming rate. Logging, mining, housing and the planting of crops for grazing, besides other practices, destroy 4 500 acres of forest worldwide every hour, according to the United Nations. It is estimated that 18-million acres of the world’s forests is lost each year.

Experts estimate that, within 40 years, the last remaining rainforests could be consumed. This will have a devastating effect on the global climate and the 1.6- billion people who rely on forest products for all or part of their livelihoods.

Yet those who fight to roll back this destruction, like veteran local Prehen campaigner George McLaughlin, are generally dismissed as troublemakers by the planning authorities while, globally, corporations and governments turn a blind eye for a quick buck or financial support for their next election campaign.

Given the gargantuan annihilation of trees around the planet, should I, or anyone for that matter, care about the Prehen woodland in Northern Ireland?

Of course, we should. We need to challenge the human delusions I have seen in relation to forest annihilation. When it comes to vast forests like the Amazon, we are tricked into thinking they are too big to be completely wiped out. When it comes to small forests like the Prehen woodland, we think they are too insignificant to matter.

However, not caring about the Prehen woodland, or any other, is like saying the extinction of a specific species of insect is not important because there are lots of other insects in the world. But, like an extinct species, once this ancient woodland is gone, you cannot grow it back.

Adams claims he likes hugging trees because he knows they will be there long after he is gone. Well, in this case, he might be wrong.

When will the authorities in Northern Ireland wake up to the reality staring them in the face? Or will they continue to sell their resources to the highest bidder for some short-term gain, just like many others worldwide?

Given the record of government and the planners in relation to the Prehen woodland and internationally, there is little prospect. But each day I hope, just as my financial adviser is prone to say, past performance is not always an indicator of future performance and, perhaps, someone with the power to stop the wanton destruction of forests like the Prehen woodland will stand up and have the courage to say: “No more.”

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 19 March 2012 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Christmas is the time for taking

Public sector workers in Leeds, West Yorkshire Nov 2011.
Source Flickr: Fighting For Decent Pensions

As a South African, one is used to industrial action, so it was strange to see the UK up in arms over a public- sector strike recently.

Some two-million public-sector workers, including teachers, healthcare professionals, university lecturers (including myself) and other civil servants, refused to work as government sought to cut pensions and force workers to work longer. The unions described the strike as the biggest in a generation. Government felt it was futile.

I do not wish to rehash the views of the unions and government, but rather highlight the split in opinion on the strike between public-sector and so-called ordinary private-sector workers such as retailers and workers in companies.

The argument from the private sector was simple: public-sector workers still have pensions, so why are they complaining about cuts and having to work slightly longer to get their, relatively speaking, generous payouts. Private-sector workers generally have no pensions, or their pensions were cut years ago. Currently, the mean average public-sector pension is about £7 000 a year, whereas in the private sector it is £5 000.

But what is mystifying about these arguments is that they somehow imply that what has happened to private-sector workers is right, or that if one sector of society is going to be screwed by big business and the pension companies, then everyone should. Two wrongs do not make a right.

The rich, of course, remain immune to all this. The annual pension of 346 directors from 102 of the UK’s top companies will be £200 000, compared with the average workplace pension of £8 100, a study found recently.

The current pension fight is also the thin edge of the wedge. A recent report by PricewaterhouseCoopers estimates that, by 2080, the average person will have to work to 74 to get a pension. Further, figures suggest that the public sector may lose 490 000 jobs in the next few years. This will play itself out in the lives of ordinary people.

As the public sector shrinks, for example, waiting times in hospitals and teacher-to-pupil ratios will increase. Despite attempts to portray the public and private sectors as separate, they are also integrally linked. An enormous number of people in the private sector is dependent on the public sector for contracts.

According to the Institute for Fiscal Studies, the average family in the UK will lose £2 500 in annual household income, compared with three years ago.

So this is not about the public sector versus the private sector – this is about government choosing to support the very rich at the expense of ordinary people.

Bankers, who caused this crisis, continue to steal from taxpayers unashamedly. Directors’ pay rose by 40% last year. A total of £4.2-billion will be paid out in bonuses to bankers this year in the UK.

The Royal Bank of Scotland, now 84%-owned by taxpayers, is still intending next year to pay its top bankers £500-million in bonuses. Last year, the bank made a loss of £1.1-billion and paid out £950-million in bonuses. The top 100 bankers received over £1-million each.

Taxpayers are paying for these bonuses. So when nearly five-million people are told their pensions are going to be cut, including teachers, social workers, soldiers, firefighters and the police, it makes perfect sense they are angry, especially when they have been paying their contributions to pension schemes in good faith.

Now is the time to work together. But instead of the working public uniting to say enough is enough, different sectors of society are hurling abuse at each other. This is akin to having an argument on the deck of the Titanic about who is going to be affected the most when the iceberg hits, while the super-rich row off in the lifeboats.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 16 December 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Does size matter?

There is a story about Steve Jobs, the late cofounder of Apple, and it goes something likes this: When the first prototype of the iPod was produced, it was shown to Jobs by one of his engineers. The initial reaction from Jobs was to ask why it was so big. The engineer protested, saying that, for its size, it was incredible and it could hold a 1000 songs.

At this point, Jobs took the iPod, or so the story goes, walked over to a fish tank in his office and dropped the iPod into it. He then pointed to the bubbles that came out of the submerged device, noting that they were proof that there was still space inside and the iPod could be made smaller.

This story, whether true or not, highlights the link between technology and size, and the general trend towards increasingly smaller gadgets.

The first computer I used in the 1980s had a 10 Mb hard drive and was a giant hunk of metal. The hard drive alone weighed as much as a brick and was close to the size of a brick. At the time, 10 Mb was considered to be an enormous amount of storage space; today, the average app is bigger than 10 Mb and a flash drive 1 000 times the size would be no bigger than your thumb nail.

The rapid shrinking of devices has prompted some technology analysts to note that we are no longer in the midst of a computer revolution but rather in a time of evolution.

Evolution implies a gradual practical adaptation to the environment. This is largely true when it comes to computers. For example, the more people travel, the more likely they would want a lightweight and small laptop, and manufacturers respond accordingly. However, modern society creates aberrations in a logical technological advance towards the minuscule.

In the 1980s, it was the size of your ghetto blaster that was critical to your street credibility. Destroying your spine by dragging around a 4 ft radio on your shoulder with speakers large enough to blow your head off was the epitome of cool. This was replaced by the tiny iPod with mini earbuds.

But, recently, I noticed that the use of discrete earbuds has been replaced by oversized headphones. Sound quality aside, one reason for this is that, as iPods have become smaller, it is harder to show off your shiny new gadget. So highly visible headphones, with the designer labels showing, have become the new fashion accessory.

The use of 4 × 4 vehicles in cities is a further example that bucks the trend toward miniaturisation. No one really needs a car the size of a tank to drive around a city, and a small micro car would make more sense. But that does not stop from us buying large vehicles completely unsuited to the urban environment. Some argue this is about comfort and safety, but we all know a 4 × 4 is also a status symbol.

So size is not only dependent on functionality but is deeply linked to social standing. The question, therefore, is whether we are, in fact, evolving or not? One thesis is that modern life is causing a slowdown in evolution, but other scientists argue we are adapting even more rapidly to different environments, foods and lifestyles.

But I simply do not trust humans to do what is in the best interests of the species. Driving environment-destroying cars is a case in point.

You would think we would have evolved to have a ‘sensible gene’. Such a gene would prevent us from using things that destroy the planet or eating food that slowly kills us, not to mention wearing overpriced impractical sound cups on our ears in busy public spaces. We would do well to remember the words of Wendelin Wiedeking, former CEO of Porsche: “If size did matter, the dinosaurs would still be alive.”

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 28 October 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Who is fit to lead the moral regeneration of a broken society?

If you are anywhere in the British Isles, it is difficult to think about anything else this week than the riots that flared up across England. The wanton looting and extensive property damage were not only ferocious, but pervasive, stretching across a range of cities, suggesting a deep-seated problem.

Explanations for the riots have varied. During the riots, Conservative British Prime Minister David Cameron claimed the riots were pure and simply criminality. However, in a speech after the riots, he backtracked slightly. Although he felt the behaviour of the protestors and the influence of gangs, particularly, were still the main problem, he acknowledged a plethora of other causes for a broken society.

These included problems in the education system and family breakdown, and, as a result, he promised to transform the lives of around 120 000 families and parents. He talked of a “slow-motion moral collapse”. He acknowledged the need to show higher moral standards across society, noting the banking crisis, the abuse of expenses by UK Members of Parliament (MPs) and the phone hacking carried out by journalists as examples of “greed, irresponsibility and entitlement”. In essence, he called for tougher security measures and a social fightback.

That said, he did not feel that race, government cuts or poverty were the main causal factors. In contrast, Labour leader Ed Miliband said inequality was a factor, and he, too, noted that rioters were greedy, immoral and selfish, much like some bankers, MPs and journalists. He felt a commission of inquiry and national conversation were necessary to address the issue.

Despite the eloquent words of both politicians, however, as I read through the speeches, I found myself feeling somewhat queasy. The reason for this was that I struggled to believe the promises implicit in either analysis.

Will the lives of thousands be turned around? Will the gap between the rich and poor narrow? Will bankers, who were bailed out, ever pay taxpayers back or have their bonuses curtailed? Would another commission uncover the truth? I doubt it.

Maybe I am cynical and my jaded view of the world is not fair on politicians who, in many cases, are doing their best. But if I feel like this as I read the speeches on my shiny Macbook, in my middle-class suburban home, how estranged must people without my level of social security feel?

I am not sure if politicians in the UK, and South Africa for that matter, realise how little faith the vast majority of the public have in them. Everyday, it seems to me, ordinary folk feel they have less and less chance of influencing the direction of the State.

Iraq War Protestors London
15th February 2003
Credit: Simon Rutherford / CC BY

In Britain, when a million people marched against the Iraq War, they were ignored. When the public were morally outraged at MPs fiddling their expense claims, a few MPs were prosecuted, but most were given the chance to pay the money back (maybe the looters could also get off if they returned their goods?).

In South Africa, when people voice their opinion about government corruption, they are deemed racists or sell-outs. Or, when black South Africans point to the excesses of white businesses living large on apartheid gains, they are dismissed as misguided insurrectionists.

Feeling estranged from the State, especially a democratic State, does not fully explain or justify violent riots and unrest, but my point is that I fear that those in power have not grasped the disconnect between themselves and the populace. This makes any talk of political leaders leading the charge in repairing the social and moral fabric of society sound farcical.

Moral and community reconstruction is not something you can do to others. Fixing a moral collapse starts, in the throwaway words of popstar Michael Jackson, with the man in the mirror. This means questioning your own moral compass, acting against injustice, toning down the rhetoric and throwaway solutions, and taking more time to listen to others respectfully.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 25 August 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Living the loopy Gautrain dream

South Africa has many things to be proud of, including a peaceful political transition, many famous scientists and musicians, breathtaking natural wonders and, most recently, the hosting of the 2010 World Cup.

However, if you speak to many South Africans, at least those living in and around Johannesburg, it seems that the Gautrain surpasses all these monumental achievements.

The 80 km mass transit railway system that can quickly ferry passengers between the airport and Sandton City, and soon a range of other destinations, seems to be loved as much as biltong and Castle Lager.

 Gautrain (Image by Nithin bolar k / CC BY-SA)

The Gautrain must be the only train in the world that has a Facebook page with some 10 000 people “liking it” and a Twitter page with some 7 000 followers. The Heathrow Express going between Heathrow Airport and London, which has carried over 60- million people since its launch in June 1998, does not even have a Facebook page.

Against this backdrop, my concerns about people who feel they can be ‘friends’ with a train on Facebook aside, I felt compelled on my last visit to South Africa to take a trip on the famed Gautrain.

There is no doubt the train is comfy, fast and what my grandmother would have called swanky. The stranger part of my journey, however, concerned my attempts to leave the train when I finally got to my stop at Rhodesfield after visiting Sandton.

As I attempted to leave the train, I was told I could not as the compartment I had entered was for people travelling to the airport only. Oddly, I, along with six others, had to watch as other people metres away left the train and we were held prisoner in our luxury compartment.

A bolshie security guard inhospitably informed me that an announcement had been made about the fact that the compartment I was in was for airport-bound passengers only. Of course, I protested, saying that, although I looked stupid, if such an announcement had been made I would have moved compartments. I then resigned myself to the fact that I was trapped. I said I would proceed to the airport (next stop in two minutes) and there swap compartments and travel back to Rhodesfield and get off.

To my amazement, I was told, in no uncertain terms, and now surrounded by four security guards, that I could not do that. The only option was to go to the airport and then travel back to Sandton (passing Rhodesfield) and change compartments there, and then return once again to my stop. At this point, I gave up, convinced I was in the Twilight Zone.

So I – and the other six detainees – settled down for another trip to Sandton, a quick carriage change (a walk of 3 m) and a second return journey. Finally, after travelling back to Sandton and then again to Rhodesfield, I was let off the train.

Needless to say, my Gautrain experience left me with mixed emotions. On one level, I was pleased to finally be off the train as I had feared a slow death in my plush seat, as I travelled endlessly up and down between the airport and Sandton. I figured I would have starved to death in the end as the fines for eating on the train were set at R700 and I only had R200 on me and a half-eaten peanut bar.

On another level, my enthusiasm for the project did not wane. It is great to come from a country like South Africa, which sometimes tries the impossible, quirks and all. The Gautrain is a symbol of what Africa should strive for, notwithstanding the need for a little flexibility at times and recognition that, given the challenges South Africa faces, progress is not always going to be as easy as moving from point A to point B.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 15 July 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Place or national identity and affinity for strangers

I realised recently how fickle I am. This happened while watching the 2011 US Masters golf tournament on TV.

Going into the last day, 21-year-old Northern Ireland prodigy Rory McIlroy was leading and it looked like it was going to be a dream win for the young man. But he then fell apart, slipping despondently down the leaderboard. I felt my heart sink.

Photo by Ottis Bunning on Unsplash

However, suddenly, South African national Charl Schwartzel emerged from the pack and snatched the tournament and the coveted Green Jacket. My mood lifted instantly, and I found myself filled with national pride.

My rapid shift in mood and allegiance are, on the surface, easy to explain. After all, I am a South African living in Northern Ireland, and it makes sense that I feel some sort of affinity for both players.

I know Hollywood, McIlroy’s home town. I have friends who are members of the golf club where he grew up playing. In fact, some of them even placed bets on him winning the British Open years ago when they saw him playing as a boy. More tangentially, I was also once on an aeroplane with the wild-haired young man (and 250 others).

As for Schwartzel, I had heard of some of his previous golfing exploits, but knew little else. He grew up in Johannesburg, as I did, along with over six-million other people. I have never shared any form of transportation with him.

So my real connection to these two individuals is spurious. My support for them is seemingly linked to some strange sense of national or geographic identity.

So, what is it about a sense of place or national identity that makes so many of us feel affinity for strangers?

Clearly, there is something comforting in feeling part of a bigger whole, especially when the whole is a nation. According to academic Anthony D Smith, there are many ways to define nationalism, including ‘the process of forming a nation’, or ‘a movement on behalf of a nation’, but nationalism can also be a sentiment or consciousness of belonging to a nation. Smith notes such a sentiment can exist without it being linked to an ideology or political belief.

Sport is one of the arenas where such a sentiment finds fertile ground. Although I see myself as a multicultural global citizen, seemingly, I am also an easy victim to some forms of national schmaltziness, especially when it comes to my country of birth, South Africa.

But does national sentiment really explain my support for McIlroy?

I now have a residential and familial connection with Northern Ireland, which probably played some part in my support for him. However, I think my support for him is probably linked more to the underdog syndrome. Most of us love the story of the unexpected winner, the small-town person made good, and when David defeats Goliath. The underdog appeals to our sense of righteousness. When the under- dog wins, we are left with a sense of possibility.

But how deep is such support?

We should never forget that supporting the underdog generally only feels good when they win. Most people like to back winners, not routine losers. During the Masters, when McIlroy started losing, the broadcasters quickly lost interest.

But being filled with national pride and defining yourself as part of a group have other dark sides. The more we define ourselves as part of a group, the more we inevitably delineate ourselves from those not part of our group.

In this context, I am embarrassed to admit there was an even darker side to my picking sides in the Masters. Actually, I now realise, with hindsight, that it was not that I really wanted the South African or the young gun from Northern Ireland to win, but what really delighted me was that, actually, an Australian came second.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 6 May 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Proper political analysis of Libyan conflict is needed

I do not wish to come across as stupid, but I have no idea what is going on in Libya. Granted, my historical knowledge about the country is patchy, but I have been making an effort to follow the recent political uprisings in the media. Unfortunately, however, my labours have left me none the wiser.

I guess it goes without saying that Libya is democratically deficient in the extreme, and Colonel Muammar Gaddafi is an old-school dictator who has lost touch with swathes of his people. However, I am also befuddled as to who constitutes the so-called opposition, their ideological positions and who is fighting who.

Obviously, given the media restrictions in Libya, it is difficult to get sound information, but I also think understanding the Libyan situation is being hampered by the instant-media revolution.

“LIBYA/” by شبكة برق | B.R.Q is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

The Internet is currently flooded with video clips about the Libyan conflict filmed by ordinary citizens. Many of these clips are revealing and, at times, harrowing. Conflict is shown in a raw, unedited form, and the brutality is indisputably visible. Renowned broadcasters like the BBC are also increasingly relying on such clips to disseminate information.

But, generally, these clips lack analysis. It is easy to be drawn in by the violence they display and the human stories behind them. However, most of the videos do not explain the complexities of the current Libyan conflict. It is also difficult to get a sense of the persons behind the camera, their motivations and the veracity of their claims.

On the odd occasion when an analytical report is aired, these too are peppered by an avalanche of comments and views. This is typified by a scrolling text bar at the bottom of TV news reports generally made up of SMS comments or tweets. I remain to be convinced that it matters that John from Essex thinks “Gaddafi is a crackpot that dresses funny”.

That said, I am not a media purest. I do not think that professionally trained journalists should hog the airwaves, the Internet or newspapers. Intuitively, concepts such as ‘citizen journalism’ appeal to me. The idea that ordinary citizens can report on events that affect their lives and get their stories out into the world is important. This is inherently democratic, especially in a world where big media companies often control the media and what we hear.

But is publishing SMS comments really giving people a genuine voice? Are YouTube clips newsworthy and genuinely informative or just making the mainstream media lazy? Why spend your time as a journalist trying to write a complex article about a conflict situation when you can get a bigger audience by showing a dramatic YouTube clip and then commenting briefly on it?

In addition, are the consumers of news being taught that news is no longer about analysis but rather drama, visual sensation and sound bites, measured by the number of hits on YouTube?

It is fantastic to live in an age where a video can find its way across the world in minutes. And I want to live in a world where ‘citizen journalists’ can give voice to the voiceless and shape history. But are we really using new media tools to their best potential? Are we not confusing the speed at which a quantity of digital media can be collected and the rapid ease of dissemination of material with quality? Surely, we can all do better than this.

So, please, can someone out there do a proper political analysis of what is happening in Libya? I do not even mind if you throw in an odd video or an SMS from some bloke living in the Karoo — just tell me what is going on in an informed, well-researched and learned way. I will be eternally grateful and will post a ‘thank you’ on my blog, which, of course, you are free to comment on.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 25 March 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Lessons for combating stress

University is meant to be educational and I did learn a few academic things while I studied at university. But there were also other life lessons I learned. One of these popped into my head again recently as I struggled with an unwieldy workload.

The lesson came from a comment made some 20 years ago by a professor of mine. This professor, after bumping into me in a corridor, asked me how I was. I said I was feeling drained and had a holiday planned. The professor replied, to my astonishment: “You do know that holidays are for people who do not know how to manage their time.”

Of course, her statement is dubious, and I am sure the occupational health depart- ment of the university would have disagreed, but it has always stayed with me. I have taken the words to mean that, in between any busy schedule, you should find time for a ‘holiday’. This might mean taking five minutes for a quiet cup of coffee, listening to an audio book in your car, or, perhaps, stepping into a museum for 30 minutes if you happen to pass one while rushing somewhere.

In fact, in my more extreme moments and, perhaps, suggesting that some of the madness of my professor has rubbed off on me, I sometimes try to convince myself that I am always on holiday and work is the thing that continually interrupts it.

Nowadays, with roles reversed and me working at a university, I always make a point of asking students how they are in the vain hope I have some effect on their lives too (although I don’t repeat my professor’s mantra). Students, like most of us when asked this question, generally say they are very busy, despite some of them being masters of factoring in relaxation (aka drinking) time into their schedules.

‘Busy’ seems to have become the buzz- word of our age. But being busy has many different meanings. There is also a lot of cache attached to being busy. Saying you are busy is linked with social power. It says you are needed by others and engaged in important activities.

I generally use the term ‘busy’ more when I am stressed. At these moments, I am often not very focused and I tend to waste a lot of time by writing lists, which just make me more anxious about what I have to do, often immobilising me. According to Jared Sandberg, who took time to research people like me, about “30% of listers spend more time managing their lists than [they do] completing what’s on them”.

It seems that when I am at my ‘most busy’ is when I have lost perspective on what really needs to be done. For me, the proof of this lies in the build-up to a proper holiday (not one of my little in-the-middle-of-day ‘vacations’, as my professor suggested). When I plan to leave the office for a few weeks, every task on my list seems the most important thing in the world. Invariably, not everything gets done. However, one week into the holiday, what seemed really important a week before miraculously seems less significant.

Therefore, I have concluded that managing your time is not merely about organising tasks; it is about getting the tasks into perspective. It is partly a state of mind. But developing a healthy attitude to what is important and what is not seems to require time and space for reflection.

So, perhaps, my professor had a point after all and we all do need continuous ‘stress holidays’. This would benefit both our health and our productivity, and work would surely benefit from a regular dose of perspective. My New Year’s resolution is to take more regular breaks – so, right now, I am off to work on a list of actions needed to make this a reality.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 28 January 2011 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

It’s a rip-off – get me out of here

It can be alarming when you realise you are not a nice person. This epiphany about myself came to me while watching (against my will, I should add) the UK television show I’m a Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here.

Let me explain. "I’m a Celebrity – Get Me Out of Here", for those not based in the UK, involves dumping a group of celebrities in the Australian jungle for a few weeks. They are then subjected to various humiliating and seemingly dangerous trials. This normally involves being showered with insects or being submerged into tunnels with rats and snakes. A notable activity is the Bush Tucker Trial, which, generally, means eating worms, cockroaches and a mandatory kangaroo penis and testicles. The winning celebrity is the one who stomachs the most awful things.

Presumably, the audience, for some perverse reason, enjoy watching the celebrities being mildly tortured. The celebrities, seemingly, agree to the humiliation and simulated danger in return for the publicity.

But back to why I am not a nice person. The revelation came when I found myself, while watching I’m a Celebrity, being overwhelmed by a desire to see the participants being swallowed, one by one, by an enormous snake live on TV, then regurgitated and finally squashed by a bouncing castrated kangaroo.

I do not consider myself to be a violent person. So why my sadistic reaction? My reaction is linked to the duplicity implicit in the shows. Celebrities are never in real danger. Everything is carefully stage- managed to ‘entertain’ the public for money. There is no ‘reality’ involved.

Annette Hill, in her 2005 book on reality TV, notes that reality TV is a catch-all phrase for a wide range of programmes featuring real people. These range from ‘on-scene’ shows (like those set in hospitals) through to shows where real people are placed in different contexts, like I’m a Celebrity, and, most famously, Big Brother.

The latter are peculiar ‘reality TV’ shows because they are not about real life at all. Although they feature real people without scripts, the shows themselves are contrived and supervised by a vast crew. Each task that is filmed is planned, thought through, reactions anticipated, and guided to a predictable conclusion. The show is heavily edited to create characters – the villain, the coward, the nice guy, and so on. Once the ‘true’ characters have been revealed, viewers can decide if they like the characters or not, and then fully engage in the drama by, generally, voting, for a price, for their favourite.

This is where the real exploitation of viewers takes place. Viewers are taken on a so-called authentic ‘journey’ with the characters, and they are tricked into thinking they now know these celebrities. For this pleasure, they have to part with their cash in telephone voting.

Reality TV programmes cost about seven times less to make than drama. The programmers are making massive profits through advertising revenue. They then have the audacity to take money from the telephone vote process. Some shows go even further.

The X-Factor talent show, for example, has the gall to release charity singles for the public to buy. Of course, supporting charity is worthwhile, but this is yet another way the shows can hoodwink the public into participation (righteous this time). The programmers are so greedy they cannot donate themselves to charity from their massive profits. They get the public to do this without undercutting their bottom line.

I am not an anti-TV moralist. Adults can watch whatever they find entertaining and, with informed consent, participants are free to degrade themselves for others’ gratification if they want. Television is not the cause of all social ills.

So, if you want watch this type of reality TV, be my guest, but realise it is all about taking your money. So, at the very least, please do not lift the phone.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 10 December 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Is cyber terrorism the new swine flu?

I would strongly recommend, especially if you are of a nervous disposition, that you avoid reading the Strategic Defence and Security Review released by the UK government recently. The document makes uneasy reading.

The UK spends over £33-billion a year on defence. This is the equivalent of the total gross domestic product (GDP) of Mozambique, Namibia and Botswana put together. It is ten times the GDP of Zimbabwe and is three times the GDP of Afghanistan.

To justify this massive expenditure, even with a proposed 8% expenditure cut, the defence review is at pains to point out the numerous security threats to the UK. The threats read like the scripts for the next generation of disaster movies.

The issues posing the biggest security risks include terrorism, instability and conflict overseas, cyber security, civil emergencies, energy security, organised crime, border security, and counterproliferation and arms control.

https://pixabay.com/service/license/ / CC0

Interestingly, the area that seems to have drawn much media attention is the newly identified threat of cyber security, which the defence review sees coming from hostile States, terrorists and criminals alike. The document notes: “Enemies will continue to attack our physical and electronic lines of communication. And the growth of communication technology will increase our enemies’ ability to influence not only all those on the battlefield, but also our own society directly. We must, therefore, win the battle for information, as well as the battle on the ground.”

It is strange to read a document that so blatantly calls for a war over information. But the most perplexing comment of all is that the defence review, a document allegedly focusing on security, highlights that the new threats from cyber terrorism are also an opportunity. The threat of cyber warfare, the document notes, means that the “UK government and British businesses . . . will derive benefits from the protection that effective cyber security measures bring to the UK economy”.

Such a statement guarantees substantial commercial interest in new profit-making security ideas. But this has also left me wondering if cyber terrorism is going to be the new battleground for scaremongers.

Just as we were told to fear bird and swine flu, mad cow disease and the potential impact of sheep with blue tongues, will we now be periodically subjected to public hysteria about cyber threats? I predict a steady flow of millennium buglike fiascos where threats are identified, millions invested and spent, and then threats disappear without a trace.

This is not, of course, to belittle the prospects for real cyber terrorism. Recently, for example, a computer worm known as Stuxnet, which damages computer systems, was identified on machines linked to Iran’s nuclear programme. This looks like one of the first successful and systematic attacks on a State installation presumably by a country or group of individuals trying to scupper Iran’s nuclear ambitions.

The problem with all this, however, is that most of us know very little about cyber terrorism, hacking and computer security. The mere mention of cyber terrorism feeds into fantasies of computers slowly taking over the world as geeky James Bondlike cyber heroes battle their malevolent intent.

But computers do not make viruses or introduce them into systems by themselves – humans do. Most security breaches still happen through human error and through good old-fashioned security leaks like leaving documents unsecured.

The UK defence review acknowledges that “simple, common-sense security measures available to ordinary citizens and businesses would make a major difference if used widely”.

But I wonder, now that cyber terrorism has been put on the national security agenda, if common sense will prevail. Sadly, I suspect the business sector’s desire to make a quick buck and general ignorance about the limits of what computers can and cannot do will leave the taxpayer bamboozled and ripped off yet again as the UK government invests in all sorts of flashy, yet ultimately useless, new security technologies.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 29 October 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

I would rather be hung over than be a glutton

t is difficult to write on subjects like alcohol without attracting criticism. Mentioning the word in a column such as this can result in letters claiming the wrong sort of message is being promoted. I recall receiving an email berating me for noting in an article that I had paid for a large purchase with a credit card. The complainant felt it was problematic because I was advocating negligent personal finance. So let me begin by saying that I am not encouraging either irresponsible or responsible drinking, whatever that is.

In fact, I do not even want to write about the merits or demerits of drinking alcohol – rather I want to talk about hangovers, or, in South African parlance, babalas. I have, of course, never experienced a hangover and, for those of you wondering, the glass of wine sitting on my desk right now is only there to increase my bohemian literary credentials rather than assist in lubricating my vocabulary.

I hear, however, that, by all accounts, a hangover is deeply unpleasant. Apparently, there is nothing worse than waking up fully clothed (or sans clothes), dehydrated and with a piercing thud in your head that is only interrupted by waves of nausea that make seasickness seem desirable.

But are hangovers not inevitable if you really want to have fun? The mature among us would say, of course, that they are not. Everything in moderation is a more measured way to live. But is a little overindulgence from time to time not necessary for the human spirit to replenish?

It has not taken long for the word ‘hangover’ to become associated with the post-World Cup woes in South Africa. The Economist ran an article in its August edition titled ‘After the party . . . comes an almighty hangover’. The piece referred to the public-sector strike that shook the country to its core in the last few weeks.

Over one-million people took part in the strike. Horrific incidents hit the international media, including striking hospital workers leaving patients to die and picketing teachers beating children as they tried to attend school. Such stories are stomach churning.

I do not want to debate the machinations of the strike – there are more sophisticated political analysts than I who can do that. But, given the social and economic problems in South Africa, was a serious clash between government and workers not inevitable with or without the World Cup?

The World Cup might have temporarily diverted attention from the country’s underlying social problems, but they were always there. The tournament merely dulled the political senses for a while.

Personally, I think the country was right to throw the World Cup party. Some hangovers are worth it, even if the eupho- ria (which, in this case, came in the form of a reignited sense of racial unity and a reminder of what might be possible) is artificially induced.

Enjoying a party and tackling deep, underlying structural issues are different things. I know many would say this is a reckless comment, as the money spent on the World Cup might have been better used, but tackling social problems in South Africa is a long-term project. The World Cup is a blip in the history of this process, a tiny contributor, whether positive or negative. Only the naïve would have ever seen it any other way.

Remember, when dealing with the deep social problems – whether in South Africa, Ireland or the UK – it is not the occasional spending binge, like the World Cup, that is the problem, but the persistent drain on or misdirected use of resources. The main culprits are businessmen (they are mostly men) and politicians that continue to suck economies dry through greed and a lack of willingness to bring others into their gluttonous economic clubs and, lest we forget, corruption and political ineptitude.

Brandon Hamber writes the column "Look South": an analysis of trends in global political, social and cultural life and its relevance to South Africa on Polity. Copyright Brandon Hamber, September 2010. "Look South" Column published on Polity on 17 September 2010.

Is South Africa just one big vuvuzela?

There were moments of brilliance on the pitch during the 2010 World Cup, but it was what happened off the pitch that grabbed the most attention.

The media were obsessed with the presence of Diego Maradona as he minced about like a diminutive rotund action man squeezed into a suit against his will. The Jabulani ball and its tendency to balloon into the crowd when struck from a free kick (unless by Diego Forlan) also provided for hours of discussion. The cheating from players feigning injury to more serious incidents, such as the blatant handball by Uruguay to deny Ghana a place in the semifinal, also produced much chitchat.

However, the clear winner, when it came to off-the-pitch distraction, was the vuvuzela. For the entire tournament, pundits, fans and even those with no interest in football were talking about it. Everyone had an opinion on the noisy horn. There were Facebook petitions to have it banned as well as voracious calls for its recognition as the cultural symbol of African football and, hence, for its preservation.

Credit: flowcomm / CC BY

Since the end of the World Cup, debate has continued. Several English Premiership teams have banned the vuvuzela from their grounds. At Wimbledon, there was much anxiety that someone might sully the Centre Court with a long droning honk, and it was hastily outlawed. There is also now a dispute over who owns the vuvuzela from a commercial perspective. Several companies have tried to register the trademark. Masincedane Sports, which has been producing the instrument since 2001, reached a compensation deal with the Shembe Church, in South Africa, about ownership, even though the final decision is still pending on whether Masincedane owns the trademark. The church claims that it invented the instrument in 1910 with a view to using it in religious ceremonies. The vuvuzela is, apparently, useful in driving out demons.

Practically speaking, however, the vuvuzela really belongs to the people of South Africa, and now the world. UK supermarket giant Sainsbury’s is said to have sold over 50 000 vuvuzelas. You can even buy them from online global retailer Amazon. Perhaps the reason for its success is that, in many senses, the vuvuzela is a lot like South Africa.

The vuvuzela gets noticed. It draws attention to itself. It has touched the international imagination. Just like South Africa. This is in part a result of apartheid, which captured the global consciousness for decades. But the focus on South Africa is also a result of the fact that South Africans, seemingly, like to voice their concerns. Whether talking about the demise of apartheid, the Rainbow Nation, crime, HIV/Aids or the state of the economy, we like the world to know what is going on. This is partly about being located at the southern tip of Africa, which results in a need to feel connected globally.

But it is also likely that the desire to externalise issues is deeply cultural. It is, I believe, how we, as South Africans, solve problems. This tendency has helped South Africa to deal with many historical challenges. But it has also meant that we, as South Africans, can be as much to blame for the negative coverage of our country as the international media.

We have all met the South Africans abroad who are only too willing to enlighten people about what a terrible country it now is (often with a racial subtext implying ‘now that apartheid has ended’), leaving listeners determined never to go there.

So, while verbalising our problems helped us in the past, the question is: How can we talk about real problems like wealth disparity and the relative crime problem while communicating all that is positive about South Africa at the same time? This may seem like a complex challenge, but, if a simple plastic trumpet can signal joy, exhilaration, celebration, exuberance, unity, disappointment, dismay, and alarm, then, surely, so can we.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 20 August 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

South Africa 2010: Field of dreams?

By the time this article is published, the fate of Bafana Bafana in the 2010 World Cup will be known. South Africa will either be destined for the second round or will be the first host nation not to make it to the knockout rounds.

Like most South Africans, I am a naive optimist and dream of seeing my team progressing deep into the tournament.

Realistically, this will not happen. But does it matter? Of course, in the biggest global tournament of them all, winning matters, but something much more significant than victory on the field is at stake for South Africa and the African continent. Since the first Europeans set off for Africa hundreds of years ago and returned home with tall tales, Africa has been embedded in the European consciousness as the dark continent.

Credit: Junior Mukeba / CC BY-SA

Colonialism not only devastated the continent economically, politically and culturally but left an idea of Africa as backward and incapable of getting its own house in order. Corrupt African leaders compounded the situation. This is where the World Cup in South Africa is important.

The World Cup may minimally contribute to South Africa’s economy and has, no doubt, created some employment, even if only temporarily, but it is in terms of image that it can have a real impact.

In a 2007 paper, in the journal Contemporary Economic Policy, Maenning and Du Plessis argue, after reviewing the impact of the 2006 World Cup on Germany, that the “public-image effects of sports events should no longer be neg- lected in cost-benefit studies of large sporting events”.

But how can image make a difference?
The World Cup highlights the dilemmas faced by many developing countries. Job creation and reducing poverty are a main priority, but selling your brand (your country) is part of building the economy in a globalised world. Poverty reduction is dependent on a strong economy.

Watching the football festivities from Europe, there is no doubt that South Africa, and the African continent to a degree, has received some positive marketing. Every day, for a month, South Africa is on television. I hope this leads to increased business and tourism.

However, I have another wish it terms of global marketing. I hope the event allows for a more nuanced view of Africa to develop and that South Africans get the confidence to embrace this. Let me explain. As I read newspaper articles about South Africa in the European press, they seem to oscillate between football, economic and political progress in South Africa, and visits by high-profile Europeans doing charity work. Implicit is often a simplistic script for what they think South Africa is about. In a nutshell, South Africa is in the initial postindependence phase but will, ultimately, go the way of other African countries. This will be characterised by corruption and civil war, with European do-gooders trying to help from afar. The World Cup offers some hope, but the big story will be when it comes to nought and the postindependence script plays itself out.

But I want the real legacy of the World Cup to challenge this. I hope the space can be found between all the vuvuzela blowing and soccer drama to see the real face of Africa, and of South Africa, in particular.

Africa is a continent that is more than war and starving babies but rather a place where deprivation and ineptitude exist alongside resilience, capability and determination. Development will never be linear on the African continent, given its history, and it is a mistake to measure South Africa and its progress within a pure Western model.

In this context, the test of the World Cup is not whether South Africa can show it is capable of hosting a world-class event, but rather that it helps South Africa realise it is not Germany and finds its own voice and path to political and economic progress.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 2 July 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

The curious case of voting for no one

The gap between my writing this article and your reading it will be an interesting one. Right now, I am sitting in Belfast, watching the outworking of the 2010 British election as it swings from one potential outcome to another. By the time you read this article, however, the question of which poli- tical parties will be ruling the country will, more than likely, be resolved.

The 2010 election result in the UK, as everyone knows by now, produced a hung Parliament. This means that, of the 650 seats up for grabs, no single party managed to secure a majority of 326. The Conservative Party won 306, the Labour Party 258 and the Liberal Democrats 57. Faced with this scenario, either the Conservatives could have formed a minority government or at least two of the parties had to form a coalition to make an overall majority.

At the moment, that is while I write and not as you read, there is no coalition deal or minority government. The Liberal Democratic Party is locked in negotiations with the Conservative Party and the Labour Party.

The point I wish to make, however, does not concern my political soothsaying abilities (or lack thereof), or ultimately who gets into bed with whom, politically speaking, but rather concerns why Britain found itself in the curious predicament of a hung Parliament in the first place.

Clearly, no one really won the election. The coalition that is inevitably running the show as you read this article no doubt told the British electorate it has a mandate to govern, but the truth is this mandate exists only if the political parties in question work together. On one level, this is a ringing endorsement for consensus politics; on another, it points to the fact that the British public largely did not trust any one party to govern.

Given the recent history of British politics, this is not surprising. Tony Blair systematically undermined public confidence by driving home decisions that the majority did not support, such as the Iraq war. Gordon Brown was gifted the office of Prime Minister without an election, and dozens of MPs were shown to be systematically feathering their own nests during the expenses scandal. This has left many people in the country feeling profoundly distrustful of politicians, or, at the very least, the political parties they represent.

This distrust has even deeper historical roots. There obviously was a desire to do away with the Labour Party and Brown’s bumbling style of governance. But, equally, given the long shadow of Margaret Thatcher and the drastic impact her reign had on the poor in Britain, no one wanted to give the Conservatives an unfettered opportunity to dominate government either.

In Northern Ireland, the picture was similar. Although people continued to vote for the large parties like the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), at the same time, the people chose to decapitate some of the very same political parties. For example, the leader of the DUP, and First Minister of Northern Ireland, Peter Robinson, who has been defend- ing himself over various financial and other scandals, lost his seat after holding it for three decades.

So, I do not know what the new coalition in the UK will look like, but I imagine it is in place by now. No single party will be able to legislate freely. Compromise will be the order of the day. This could prove to be the ‘third way’ Blair was always looking for or an unmitigated disaster as previous political enemies try to work together.

Either way, the people have spoken. The message is clear: if politicians want an unequivocal mandate, then they need to govern for the people and not for themselves. I wonder how long it will take for the South African electorate to figure that out.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 21 May 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Crying wolf and legalised theft

Recently, we bought a new family car. The car is great but the process was surrounded by numerous dodgy ways to part us with our money.

Several car loans, for example, came with hidden fees. Car dealers would offer a reduced interest rate to get your business and then, at the time of setting up the finance, inform you there is a set-up and closing cost to the loan. Fees in one case were equivalent to 20% of the total amount of interest one would finally pay. In other words, the discount was not real – simply redistributed.

Insurance is seemingly another way to fleece the customer. I could not believe the number of insurance policies thrown at us: tyre insurance, gap cover and sickness payment indemnity. Of course, insurance is necessary when buying a car, but all the additional products and the relentless attempts to flog them left me queasy. I think someone even tried to sell me insurance to insure my insurance.

But the insurance rip-off extends well beyond car dealerships. The extended warranty is the cream of the con crop in the retail sector, especially in the UK and Ireland. Extended warranties promise repair and sometimes replacement cover in the event of an unexpected breakdown of electrical goods after the normal one-year warranty expires. About £900-million worth of extended warranties are sold to consumers in the UK each year, according to Which magazine.

However, Which also concludes, after detailed investigation, that most of these insurances are worthless. It found that, in some cases, the extended warranty premiums cost over 50% of the value of the original products, some of which had a 97% reliability rate. Many of these electrical goods were also dropping in price and, in two to three years, a new product would often cost the same as or less than the insurance premium paid out.

And who can forget cheap airline scams advertising low-priced flights that exclude taxes, costs for paying with a credit card, additional fees if you do not check in online, not to mention charges for bags and seats? Ryanair is even considering charging for the use of onboard toilets.

Then, of course, there is the swine flu swindle. Some £11,3-billion was spent on the pandemic worldwide. The UK alone overstocked 30-million doses of the vaccine and spent £150-million. It now emerges countries that spent considerably less have similar infection rates.

Many now claim the pharmaceuticals companies duped the World Health Organisation (WHO) about the extent of the risk in order to make money. The European Council is investigating the matter. The WHO refutes claims that it was influenced and the drugs companies assert they responded effectively to an impending threat.

Two facts, however, are indisputable. Firstly, swine flu made some people very rich, or at least richer. And, secondly, public confidence in professional institutions has been severely undermined.

How can anyone take the scientific profession seriously after it cried wolf in relation to swine flu, bird flu, mad cow disease, holes in the ozone layer and the millennium bug, all of which largely came to zilch? How can one trust insurance companies when their profits outstrip payouts so obscenely?

But then again HIV threats turned out to be correct, and climate change scares are already proving accurate. If you lived in New Orleans in 2005 and failed to renew your household insurance, you would be blaming yourself, not wealthy insurance companies, right now.

The problem, however, is that making an informed decision about buying insurance or following professional advice is impossible when the process is constantly surrounded by a cacophony of truth and lies, good and bad science, informed and self-interest-driven guidance, as well as ruthless businesspeople and a constant barrage of advertisers aggressively selling us what we do not need. In this context, the issue is not about crying wolf, but spotting the wolf, in the first place.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 23 April 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

Is bling the new opium of the people?

I recently spent time back home in South Africa. It was fantastic: family, friends, sunshine, fine food and wine. I also visited various community projects in areas such as Crossroads. The way many people are overcoming poverty through local sustainability projects, education and hard work is an inspiration. Progress is evident every-where, whether it is shacks that now have electricity or new low-cost homes for those lucky enough to get them.

But, at the same time, as everyone knows, serious problems persist. It seems that, for every person moving out of poverty, another person is languishing in squalor. In this regard, I concur with veteran journalist Allister Sparks that “it is not that nothing has changed, but that things have not changed for enough people”.

I do not, however, want to get into a debate about whether government’s economic policy is correct, or whether government is doing enough. Rather, I would like to talk about how people react to all this. And, if I am frank, and I acknowledge that what I am about to say may be a symptom of my own coming and going from South Africa – there is something about my home society that disturbs me deeply.

I lived most of adult life in South Africa. I know what it is like to be confronted on a daily basis by pervasive poverty, crime, violence and social disintegration. For most people, and I am not blameless in this regard, the best way to deal with this is to ignore it, get on with your work and life, and, perhaps, make a small difference where you can.

Obviously, this is inadequate, but there are trends in South Africa that I find more troubling than the ostrich syndrome of survival. It seems that people are using the trappings of wealth as a way of anesthetising themselves from noticing the poverty that is all around them.

Karl Marx thought religion was the opium of the people, but in South Africa it is bling and shopping malls that are the new temples. The bigger your car, the heavier your wallet, or the more flashy your house, the easier it seems to avoid everything around you. Wealth can insulate you from an insecure world, but I fear the obsession many people have with the green stuff in South Africa extends beyond the basic need for security.

Of course, people living in places like Ireland and the UK are materialistic, and most of us aspire to living well, but, in South Africa, I am always struck by how much people talk about their salaries, their cars and their houses, and how they like to show it all off. People clearly aspire to being rich, not to simply being comfortable.

I think this is because the apartheid system perverted the idea of what success means. Since the system was founded on privilege for some and not for others, it appears that being privileged has become the yardstick of success. If I am direct, for many black South Africans, overcoming the indignity of apartheid means one has to become super privileged. For many white South Africans, the best way to defend yourself against potentially losing your gifted privilege is to not merely maintain a certain lifestyle but to become superrich.

The matter is further complicated in South Africa by the apartheid past, which has rendered people incapable of having a discussion about ostentatious wealth and the desire for it without it becoming a political or race issue.

But, surely, it does not matter whether you are black or white, a South African or an American, a politician, a popstar, a banker or a poor man made good – buying a R1-million sports car or wearing a R250,000 watch is downright sickening in a world where some people cannot afford one meal a day.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 26 March 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.

With great power comes great obfuscation

With great power comes great responsibility” is one of those lines that, despite being uttered in a Spiderman movie, will linger on in social consciousness.

The statement is a catchy version of a line in a Roosevelt speech (which, incidentally, he never gave because he died the night before): “Today, we have learned in the agony of war that great power involves great responsibility”.

This may well, in turn, come from the Bible, which, in the book of Luke, states: “From the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”

Whatever its origins, the assertion is evocative and, as I sat watching Tony Blair give evidence to the Chilcot Inquiry into the Iraq war, I could not get the line out of my head.

The quote came to mind for three reasons.

Firstly, the way George W Bush and Blair painted Saddam Hussein as the incarnation of evil and the West as the saviours of the Iraqi people was as fantastical as a Hollywood blockbuster.

Secondly, the full quotation in the movie, although cheesy, is rather profound in the context of the Iraq war. In the film, the line is used in relation to a school bully who used to torment the young Peter Parker before he transformed into Spiderman. Spiderman’s uncle warns: “But just because you can beat him up doesn’t give you the right to. Remember, with great power comes great responsibility”. This is a warning Bush and Blair would have done well to heed in relation to the bully, Hussein.

Finally, Blair’s blind obstinacy that he did the right thing and had no regrets about his actions has left me questioning if he really does take responsibility for his actions. In the Chilcot Inquiry, Blair claimed that “there is not a single day that passes” without him thinking about his responsibility. Blair claims he had multiple responsibilities, including the responsibility to protect the country. But everyone now knows that Hussein was not a threat to the UK. Yes, Hussein was harming his own people, but it is difficult to sustain an argument that you care about ordinary Iraqis with over 95 000 civilian deaths on your hands.

Based on Blair’s insistence (on another TV show) that, even if there were no weapons of mass destruction, he still would “have thought it right to remove [Hussein]” one can only conclude that Blair sees responsibility as being tied to his personal opinion of what was right or wrong. But taking a difficult decision because you think it is right and you have the power to do it, particularly when most ordinary people could see it was ill advised, does not negate the real responsibility that comes with such actions.

I find it hard to understand how one can feel responsible for, yet not regret or feel the need to apologise for, an ill-planned and ill-executed war that has by all accounts been a disaster.

When asked recently about the number of inquiries into the war by a US channel, Blair commented that he felt it was hard for people to simply disagree on a matter these days. Rather, he added, people had a tendency to think there was “some great deceit” or “conspiracy” rather than just to accept that people “have different points of view and hold them reasonably for genuine reasons”.

But what Blair does not appear to understand is that we are not talking about a disagreement about whether Pepsi is better than Coke, or whether Batman would beat Spiderman in a fictitious fight. Disagreement in the Iraq case meant that politicians, led by Blair, rammed through a political decision to kill thousands of people – a decision that millions of ordinary people in the UK and in the rest of the world opposed. Taking responsibility, in this case, means accounting for the deaths that followed one’s decision – not rationalising why you thought it was a good idea.

This article by Brandon Hamber was published on Polity and in the Engineering News on 26 February 2010 as part of the column "Look South". Copyright Brandon Hamber.