"BONO single-handedly made sure that half of Africa does not live in poverty anymore," said the die-hard U2 fan seated next to me. On hearing these words, I felt a strong urge to smack him, partly for his ignorance and naivety, but also for ruining my attempt to keep politics out of my evening’s entertainment. But I should have known better. Politics is inevitable when the performing band, or its lead singer to be more exact, has courted more press coverage of late for his campaigning on African debt relief than for the band’s music.
My inner debate about U2’s politics began when Bono joined perennial Africa campaigner Bob Geldof as the face of the West’s Jubilee 2000 campaign which called for more aid to Africa and the writing off of crippling debts. It all sounded rather laudable but as the years passed and the message was recycled over and over again with no visible change in the situation on the ground, Bob’s and Bono’s campaign began to attract controversy.
Right at the top of the list of questions is the real agenda behind these activist-celebrities. As wealthy rock stars mime tears in public over the plight of the poor, they cannot but provoke scepticism. To cynics like myself, "artistes" like Geldof would have faced career death decades ago if not for his self-propagated image as Africa’s saviour. In a 2005 report, the BBC reported criticism of Geldof’s Live 8 concerts as "an unsavoury gathering of white millionaire pop stars saving Africa’s helpless". The terrible thing in all of this is that it is impossible to banish the suspicion that many get involved because supporting a cause is "cool" and because it is a great public relations ploy to target new fan base among politically-conscious youth. More damaging, however, is its effect on less politically-aware persons who buy into the idea that by attending a few concerts, buying some T-shirts or rubber wristbands, they are doing their part to solve complex problems such as poverty and underdevelopment.
While these campaigns are drummed up, performers gain almost messiah-like following. Several years ago, Time magazine came up with this embarrassing cover story: Can Bono Save the World? A lead article went on to name Bono as the "Right Man, Right Time" to spruce up the debate on global poverty with "a bit of glamour".
One sharp critic of these rock star campaigns is Zambian economist Dambisa Moyo who is known in development circles as the Anti-Bono. Moyo, who once worked with the World Bank and investment house Goldman Sachs, decries the endless aid and debt relief campaigns, labelling them Africa’s crutches. The problem with this kind of politics, says Moyo, is that it increases Africa’s dependency on aid rather than addressing the need to develop local capacities. Activities by celebrities like Bono and Geldof also help perpetuate the image of an Africa that refuses to help itself.
Thus, young economists such as Moyo increasingly call for politics-free trade and investment policies such as those undertaken by China investors which, curiously, are subject to much criticism in the West.
At the Wembley concert last weekend playing to a record audience of 88,000 concert-goers, U2’s show included a tribute to Burmese political prisoner Aung San Suu Kyi whose detention term was recently extended by the military government by 18 months. "This is a woman whose only crime is that she would win an election if she is allowed to contest," said Bono.
My final take on this is that celebrity campaigning should highlight issues and encourage people to read up about them and make their own conclusions, rather than push dogmatic lines that obscure the many dilemmas and contradictions of intractable world problems. Fortunately, I left Saturday’s concert feeling fairly satisfied that on this occasion, Bono did much more of the former than the latter.
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