GLOBAL TRENDS AND LOCAL RESISTANCES

Review article

Review of Pradip N. Thomas and Zaharom Nain (eds), Who owns the media? Global Trends and Local Resistances, Southbound (Penang), Zed Books (London), World Association of Christian Communications.

A couple of years ago I was threatened with arrest as I tried to go through the turnstiles at a major sporting event in South Africa. My offence was that I carrying a bottle of soft drink that was not produced by the company sponsoring the event, the US corporation Pepsico.

So what does this have to do with the media? In our globalised world, absolutely everything.

The event was the cricket World Cup, a tournament most enthusiastically supported in the Indian sub-continent. At the time, Pepsi did not even market its products in South Africa (although they were available at an exorbitant price inside the stadium). The issue was advertising. Pepsi’s sponsorship was an opportunity for it to promote its product to a billion thirsty, cricket-loving Indians. I, with my non-approved soft drink – actually it was just orange juice diluted with Cape Town tap water – might attempt ‘ambush marketing’, displaying the forbidden concoction to the cameras (and presumably shaking the Pepsi empire to its foundations).

The episode was absurd, of course. But it tells us something about how the media work – and that Africa is not immune to these global trends. Progressive media analysts are sometimes fond of talking about the “commoditisation” of news and other media content. But it is really we, the audience, who are the commodity. In this example, one US company, News Corporation, was engaged in a contract with another US corporation, Pepsico, in relation to an event taking place in Africa. News Corp, the broadcaster, was selling Pepsi its predominantly Indian audience.

The timeliness of this book lies in the fact that the rapid consolidation of media ownership into the hands of a small number of corporations – mainly US-based – has been one of the most striking aspects of globalisation. The extent of the reach of these corporations can hardly be exaggerated. Even as I write these dissenting words, I am using software developed by one of these global media corporations. My message will be transmitted using cable or airwaves owned by these same corporations.

The rapidity of these developments is important to note, especially for those readers who may feel that corporate control of the media is an issue of marginal significance for Africa. As Robert McChesney points out in his chapter, none of the nine corporations that dominate the global media market existed in their present form 15 years ago.

When it comes to the question of media ownership, African journalists and media freedom activists typically only look at one dimension: state ownership of the broadcast media. (This is a mea culpa; I was for some years head of the Africa programme at a freedom of expression organisation, where we did precisely that.) Fifteen years ago, as those global media corporations were beginning to form, this was indeed the dominant question in Africa. How could we wrest control of public media from the government of the day? How could we create space for the private media?

The second task has been achieved more successfully than the first. There is still a need to develop a genuine public service model of broadcasting in Africa. But at the same time, the question of who owns the private media (sometimes erroneously described as the “independent media”) becomes increasingly urgent.

This is addressed from slightly different perspectives in three good chapters on Africa in this book. William Hueva, Keyan Tomaselli and Ruth Teer-Tomaselli review the political economy of the media in Southern Africa since 1990. This focuses, inevitably, on the role of South African corporate media in the sub-region.

Mohamed Musa and Jubril Mohammed have written a largely historical review of the development of the media in Nigeria. This provides textured detail on the impact that ownership has on the political character and content of the media.

Francis Nyamnjoh attempts to situate media ownership issues in Africa in the context of globalisation. He concludes that ownership still mainly rests with governments or global corporations, with local capital squeezed between the two. He does not further explore those situations – such as Nigeria, Kenya and South Africa – where local capitalist ownership of the media is far more developed, not necessarily to beneficial effect. His conclusion, however, is encouraging. He stresses the skill of Africans in developing alternative means of political communication, outside the technological and ownership constraints of the modern media sector.

However, those interested in future trajectories of the African media would be well advised to read some of the other chapters in this book. Slavko Splichal’s review of the media in East and Central Europe, for example, presents a picture that may be close to the Africa of a decade from now. Government-controlled state media remain major players. Alongside them are corporate media owned by members of the oligarchy. These owners are either political players using the media to bolster their position or capitalists with political ambitions. Does this media landscape mean that ordinary East Europeans receive good, accurate information through the media? My own recent research in two former Soviet republics suggests a decisive No.

Splichal calls this phenomenon Italianisation – referring, of course, to the ascent of Silvio Berlusconi, media capitalist and now Prime Minister. Might Italianisation be what the future holds in some African countries? It is certainly possible and underlines the need for some hard thinking about the alternatives.

? Richard Carver is director of Oxford Media Research.
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