17 April 2025:

+ Cabinet Report Cards
+ GNU Year Hangover
+ Vaal Dam Running Dry
+ Medical Aid Price Hikes
+ Jurassic Crocs

– The Mail & Guardian

The seven manifestations of Trumpism:

In recent months, Trumpism has manifested in numerous disruptive forms, ranging from imposing unilateral tariffs on many countries to the US’s withdrawal from the Paris Agreement on climate change.

We need to respond to Trumpism from an ethical point of view, but it has to be an ethics that speaks to the root causes of Trumpism, and not just the symptoms. 

The global ethics of shared vulnerability can perform this role. It speaks to three experiences. First, although it has brought human progress, globalisation has caused real hurt in people’s lives. Second, people throughout the world are struggling to cope with the losses and anger entailed in this globalisation of woundedness. Third, their unresolved grief and anger are manipulated by anti-globalisation movements such as Trumpism. 

We must pay attention to the second point — a country or a group failing to grieve and to manage their collective anger in a constructive manner. It is at the centre of the ethics of collective vulnerability.

We often talk about the problems that arise when individuals fail to grieve loss in their lives. We must also talk about the dangers that arise when a country or a section of society fails to grieve the loss and structural shifts wrought by globalisation. There are seven dangers that this poses and these are played out in Trumpism.

First, when collective anger and grief are allowed to go unsettled for too long, political leaders can manipulate these emotions to consolidate their political power. This leads to an escalating culture of political populism.

Second, whereas globalisation encourages interconnectedness, the populist culture, through nationalism, creates disconnectedness.

At the centre of this nationalism is the effort to harness collective anger and grief to convince the people that the negative effects of economic globalisation are unique to their nation and not felt elsewhere in the world. In reality, wherever you go in the world, you will experience the pressures of globalisation — such as unchecked migration; industry closures and relocation; job losses; systemic neglect of the middle class and the rise of contract work.

Third, when people struggle to deal with the wounds and feelings of vulnerability caused by globalisation, they often slip into a collective denial, acting as if their wounds and vulnerabilities do not exist. 

To protect themselves from the uncomfortable truths of their shared vulnerability, the movement helps its members to escape from reality. It does this by crafting a kind of dream — a dream that they will be “great again”. This dream encourages members to invest their hopes and energy into it, allowing them to sidestep the harsh realities of their wounds and vulnerabilities inflicted by globalisation.   An important aspect of this dream is to turn United States into a manufacturing superpower using supply chain nationalism and arbitrary-imposed tariffs.

Fourth, scapegoating becomes rampant. The movement leads its believers to think that there are countries and groups of people who are putting obstacles in the way of them achieving their dream of becoming great again. This is accompanied by a campaign that demonises these countries or groups as “enemies” or “parasites”.

Fifth, under the anti-globalisation movement, a deeply rooted culture of victimhood arises. Countries and groups start thinking of themselves as victims of some broader system. They fail to see the suffering of others. They often use this sense of victimhood as a justification for harming other countries or groups. They cling tightly to their victim status, because it provides a convenient excuse for destructive behaviour towards others and the global order.

Sixth, globalisation often leaves countries feeling as if too many things are beyond their control, particularly when they are fighting to become “great again”. This mindset can lead to the belief that, to regain a sense of control in the geopolitical landscape, it is necessary to disrupt the established international rules and multilateral organisations.

Seventh, countries or groups that are grappling with collective vulnerabilities and wounds are, at their core, searching for healing. But they believe that they can be healed only if they inflict pain or harm on other countries.

 As a result, the movement drives us into a transactional world order where coercion and violence are the preferred solution to complex geopolitical issues, the ethics of compassion and fraternity is demonised, while forcible annexation of weaker nations, plunder of their resources, and even genocide, are made normal.

These seven manifestations of Trumpism account for the reasons masses are attracted to it. Trumpism is built on the experience of woundedness wrought by globalisation and the failure to address this woundedness in a constructive manner.  As such, Trumpism or  “Make America Great Again” movement does not depend on President Donald Trump being president. It will continue even after his term of office.  

While Trumpism as an anti-globalisation  movement is strong in the US and other Western countries, it will manifest itself in different forms in other continents. That is why we need to build a strong foundation for the ethics of shared woundedness.   

How do we address the systemic and ethical failures of unfettered globalisation? How do we ensure that the shared wounds and anger resulting from globalisation, as well as various armed conflicts in the world, are not used as weapons to hurt other nations?  

How do we ensure that the globalisation of our shared vulnerability unites us and does not further divide our already polarised world? What is the alternative world order that we need to build, an alternative to the world order envisaged by unfettered globalisation and that of Trumpism as an anti-globalisation movement? These are the questions that the ethics of shared woundedness need to address.

One thing is clear — if we do not use the ethics of shared vulnerability to challenge both globalisation movement and Trumpism as an anti-globalisation movement, the world will soon be placed on a dangerous path — a path that can lead to catastrophic trade war and the end of rule-based world order with ramifications of another great depression and possible third world war. This is the path we must avoid at any cost and we shall surely avoid it if we work for the building of a compassionate international world order — or a Samaritan international world order — founded on ethics of shared vulnerability.

Father Stan Muyebe is the director of the Justice and Peace Commission of the Southern African Catholic Bishops’ Conference.

– The Mail & Guardian

Rewriting the South African cinema script:

As a regular patron of South African cinemas, I’ve come to appreciate the feeling of being alone in the theatre. 

As a team at Sinema Agency, which does marketing and promotion for films, we make a point of visiting the cinema at least once a month, exploring films that spark our interest. 

Recently, I found myself watching A Scam Called Love at the Pavilion in Cape Town, completely alone. This solitude left me reflecting on a question that has been growing louder in my mind: What would it take to reignite the cinema-going culture in South Africa?

This was compounded by a conversation I had with a colleague who tried to see the Issa Rae-produced One of Them Days in Durban, only to find it wasn’t playing in any local cinemas. This situation, while frustrating, isn’t an isolated incident and ties into a much larger conversation around the accessibility of cinema and the importance of cultivating a dedicated audience for local films.

However, despite the potential, in our two years of operation at Sinema, we’ve yet to work on a project with a theatrical release. Most of the films we have handled have either been for streaming or festival-run projects, where cinemas have been used only for the premieres.

Working as a film PR agency across South Africa and Nigeria, we’ve noticed distinct patterns in how audiences engage with local content. 

In Nigeria, there is a strong push for homegrown stories, with Nollywood continuing to dominate screens and streaming platforms alike. Nigerian audiences actively seek out and support locally made films, which, in turn, fuels investment in domestic productions. 

South Africa has struggled to achieve that level of local audience engagement. There is an urgent need to develop a strong theatrical ecosystem that prioritises local films, creating a culture where audiences look forward to local releases as much as they do to Hollywood blockbusters.

It’s striking how often young, aspiring filmmakers express dissatisfaction with the lack of a robust and inspiring local film culture. 

For decades, South African cinema has been stunted by isolation. Our cinema culture is suffering. Despite South Africa boasting over 750 cinema screens — almost half of Africa’s total — these are disproportionately situated in elite suburbs and major cities, leaving vast swathes of the population without access to the cultural experiences cinema can offer. 

The reality is stark — local films often do not have the draw to fill theatres and South African filmmakers struggle to get their projects into mainstream distribution.

I’ve often wondered, if series like Shaka Ilembe were presented as feature films, would they attract the masses? Perhaps a gripping story like Sifiso Mzobe’s Young Blood turned into a film, done right, would stir more interest than we currently see. But the larger question remains: why don’t we see enough of these stories on the big screen?

South African cinema struggled for decades under the weight of apartheid, which kept black filmmakers sidelined. During the apartheid era, opportunities for black filmmakers to create their own narratives were virtually nonexistent. Without access to equipment, funding or the right platforms, the dream of a diverse cinema culture was stifled. 

Post-apartheid, new voices have emerged, diverse in both stories and themes. Filmmakers like Zola Maseko (The Life and Times of Sara Baartman), Ntshavheni wa Luruli (Chikin Biznis) and Akin Omotoso (God is African) have expanded the scope of South African cinema. 

Yet, despite new voices and bold content, we still face a much larger issue — audience development.

The years of fragmentation still echo in the challenges we face today in building an inclusive and thriving film culture. Without audience development, without an understanding of who our films are for and without a robust distribution strategy, the potential of our cinema is untapped.

South Africa’s cinema-going audience is small. With a population of around 60 million, only about 5 million people regularly attend cinemas. This makes building a sustainable national cinema an uphill battle. The sad reality is that South African cinema continues to suffer financially. 

A 2022 South African Cultural Observatory study highlighted that the audiovisual and interactive media industry — which includes film — contributes significantly to the economy. 

However, the Covid-19 pandemic hit hard, shrinking the industry by nearly 60% in 2020. While recovery is on the horizon, it is still struggling to break through the cultural and financial barriers holding it back.

Take leading cinema chain Ster-Kinekor, for example. The company is in the midst of restructuring, having to lay off a third of its workforce due to poor revenue generation and declining attendance. 

The lack of blockbuster content, combined with the increasing dominance of streaming services, has significantly impacted attendance. But perhaps most alarming is the fact that local films aren’t filling the void left by Hollywood. If South African cinemas are to thrive, we must look inward, creating content that resonates deeply with local audiences.

The modern film landscape is increasingly complex. We live in an age of distraction, where audiences are spoiled for choice and the competition for attention is fierce. 

The question, then, is not just what stories we tell, but how we engage potential viewers. It’s no longer enough to simply produce films; we must consider the needs, preferences and experiences of our audiences.

We have to rethink how to build relationships with our viewers — particularly the younger demographic being drawn away by streaming platforms and social media. 

Gone are the days when filmmakers and producers could expect their audience to simply show up. Today, they need to actively connect with their audience, anticipating their desires and offering them a journey that excites and engages.

The audience is no longer a passive recipient of art — every piece of content needs to have an audience road map. They are active participants in the story’s life cycle. It’s time to embrace this shift and start building a meaningful, symbiotic relationship between filmmakers and viewers.

The solution lies in designing an audience-first experience. People, especially Gen Z, are increasingly willing to spend money on unique experiences. A study by Eventbrite reveals 75% of Millennials prefer spending their money on experiences rather than physical goods. Cinema can tap into this growing demand. 

More than just marketing, it requires a deep understanding of the audience’s needs, desires and lifestyle choices. For example, experiential cinema, such as the Galileo Open Air Cinema in Cape Town and the outdoor screenings by StarLight Flix in Durban, has proved successful.

In recent years, local festivals have become crucial in supporting South African cinema. Events like the Durban International Film Festival, Encounters South African International Documentary Film Festival and the Reel to Reality Festival showcase local talent and engage communities. 

They play an instrumental role in stimulating demand for local films by providing distribution opportunities and cultivating new audiences. Festivals also drive audience engagement and revenue generation. 

The focus should be on amplifying the voices of local filmmakers while expanding access to cinema for all South Africans, regardless of geography or socio-economic status. 

They introduce new audiences to South African stories and open distribution opportunities for local films to be seen internationally. 

At the same time, festivals foster the growth of independent cinemas, as seen with The Labia Theatre in Cape Town and The Bioscope in Johannesburg. Such spaces are essential for the longevity of South African film culture, offering a contrast to the commercial chains by nurturing a deeper appreciation for diverse, local storytelling.

Initiatives like Sunshine Cinema are working to bring films to remote areas but there is still room for growth. Expanding cinema access, especially to rural and underserved regions, is paramount for the industry’s long-term sustainability.

At the core of the issue is a change in the way we view the cinema experience. It must no longer be confined to traditional models. The demand for unique, sensory-driven experiences has been skyrocketing, and the cinema should embrace this shift. 

From upgraded theatre technology to creating spaces that invite community engagement, cinema must evolve to compete in an era where people seek meaning beyond the screen.

– The Mail & Guardian

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