From MPH To G8 – A Small Ngo’s View
Pamela Nowicka takes an irreverent - but relevant - peek behind the scenes at both Make Poverty History and the G8.
It’s not easy being a small ngo (non-governmental organization) in a 500-strong coalition which includes the biggest international ngo players. And when that coalition is aligned with the best self-publicist in the world and his media-consuming juggernaut of celebrities, the smaller ngo can find itself disappearing into the ether, like the dove in a magician’s hand.
And when all that is merely the h’ors d’oeuvres to a main course of heads of state, protesters, and then bombs… the small ngo can hope only to keep its profile somewhere vaguely in the region of a news agenda, in a competing welter of press releases, interviews and 24-hour-day rolling news coverage…
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This is one small ngo’s, very personal, odyssey of discovery.
MAGIC MOMENTS
From the outset, MPH (as we learned to call MakePovertyHistory in the parallel
universe of acronyms small ngo had now entered) was going to be full of ‘moments’.
As part of the MWG (Media
Working Group), we felt both privileged and grateful to join the turbo-powered élite
of press-officers charged with the sacred remit of gaining media coverage,
bigging up the brand and flitting around in
Katherine Hamnett MPH t-shirts.
First indications of the importance of moments came with a ‘Phil Collins
moment’ which some bright spark had included on the game-plan of the
Edinburgh rally. Everyone seemed to know that this was a plan for PC to fly
between London and somewhere else – except small ngo.
A ‘John Travolta moment’ was mooted – excited chatter around the notion of the uniformed Scientologist piloting in his jumbo, crammed with the crème de la crème of LA celebdom – only to be missed by the skin of our collective teeth.
Even the Dalai Lama – perhaps in a bid for a ‘Dalai Lama moment’ – sent a letter of support.
Were not the gods smiling upon us?
THE RALLY MOMENT
The atmosphere at the Edinburgh rally was a heady brew of idealism and family day out.
Nothing kicked off (hooray), numbers were good (hooray), no-one tried to resurrect the white bands sourcing story (quiet sighs of relief), police were smiley and the sun shone.
Backstage, small ngo mingled, saucer-eyed, with the great and the good. Shielded by their big ngo minders, Bianca Jagger, Eddie Izzard, Noreena Hertz and various girls in micro mini skirts flitted, chatted and posed for pix.
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Eddie Izzard created his very own moment by investing some time carefully adjusting his hairstyle in a mirror held up by a big ngo media professional.
Small ngo enjoyed a friendly chat with a representative from big ngo A who explained the internal jealously and internecine rivalry between them and big ngo B. ‘It’s: what’s in it for us, in terms of publicity? Otherwise they’re not interested.’
For a few uplifting moments around tea-time, when the rally numbers were announced, we all believed we were, indeed, Making Poverty History.
Let’s face it, if
MPH had garnered support not only from Clooney and Pitt, Madonna and the
Queen, Saint Bob of Geldof and hundreds of thousands
of ordinary punters, surely that meant something?
THE BADGE MOMENT
As a veteran of a variety of anti-war marches and trade-justice demos, small
ngo was startled and pleased to be anointed with the imprimatur of media accreditation
to Gleneagles. As we trotted out of the Tayside Police office clutching our
accreditation badge with mandatory hideous pic dangling from a ribbon made
of specially designed G8 tartan, there was a peculiar sense of entering the
heart of the beast.
It was perhaps this feeling, which clung to the small ngo psyche like an exotic and intoxicating perfume throughout the entire Gleneagles experience, even more than the interviews, journalistic camaraderie, gossip, being buzzed by Chinooks, free food and being that close to Clooney, Bob n Bono, and Blair, which ensured that the time spent in the millionaires’ golfing retreat was such a powerful learning experience.
THE G8 BRIEFING MOMENT
As a neophyte in the world of summits, small ngo was keen to drink in the wisdom of big ngos to whom this was bread and butter. Perhaps a run-down of tactics and strategy; guidance on what might reasonably be expected in the media bun-fight we were now embarking on. If we were lucky, we might even be briefed…
‘Maybe you should take a laptop,’ murmured
one old hand, gnomically.
THE TRANSPORT MOMENT
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Fleets of specially chartered buses shuttled the journalistic hordes and small ngo between Edinburgh and Gleneagles. This journey (described by the nice lady at Tayside police as ‘40 to 50 minutes’) stretched to three and a half hours as we ran the gauntlet of protesters exercising their democratic right to kip in the road, wear fluorescent-pink and black lace and yomp across picturesque Scottish countryside with determined expressions.
As our driver circled Gleneagles for what appeared to be the 46th time, two members of the US press treated us to a running commentary. Doing their bit for international relations, they commandeered four seats in a bus filled to capacity, and exchanged their insights across all four seats and the aisle.
‘They just don’t understand coffee, these little tiny coffees might be nice for everyone else, but not for me,’ asserted the 18-stone blonde Genoa veteran.
Protesters – face-painted clowns brandishing feather dusters – were pronounced ‘cute’ by the doyen of cultural commentators. ‘I think it’ll be good for tourism.’
Two minutes later she demurred: ‘I don’t find any of this cute anymore.’
A bit like the war on Iraq and US foreign policy,
Protesters waved a hand-drawn placard with a picture of Bush as King Canute.
‘Who’s King Canute? I don’t get it,’ said US journo 2.
Next came a critique of the bus toilet. ‘It stank, it was really disgusting. I forget to factor in that everywhere isn’t like home,’ commented journo 2. Small ngo quietly prayed for her to be seconded to report from the global south.
As a flotilla of three US Chinook battle helicopters headed towards us like something out of Apocalypse Now, small ngo speculated nervously about ‘friendly fire’.
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THE VENUE MOMENT
Guarded by machine-gun wielding Special Forces in black, who looked like they were auditioning for walk-ons in a shoot-up movie, our baggage was X-rayed and we were frisked before making our way to the Gleneagles Media Centre.
Taxpayers’ $18 million had been invested to create what appeared to be the bastard love-child of a five-star office complex and the Big Brother sitting room. Two storeys of work stations, terminals, computers, cafés and briefing rooms, complete with a balconied Media Restaurant serving delicious free food.
Any misgivings about the temporary nature of the construction were soundly laid to rest as small ngo gazed in shock and awe at wood-panelled Ladies lavvies with their tasteful blue-glass Phillippe Starke washbasins and Molton Brown toiletries. For reasons that were not entirely clear, it put small ngo in mind of the basic lack of a) water, b) toilets and c) resources in the global south.
PRESS CONFERENCE MOMENTS
It’s all too easy to get blasé, and once you’ve chatted to TV news presenter Jon Snow, absorbed the wit and wisdom of Clooney and witnessed the Bob n’ Bono show in full swing, the small ngo might be forgiven for getting ideas above its station. Ideas like: why wasn’t Nobel prize winner Wangari Ma’athai, seated on the platform with B&B, introduced by anyone, including B&B? Or invited to speak? Might she not have had some cogent thoughts on the matters in hand? At least as much as Clooney?
Chirac seemed intelligent and urbane, while Blair came across like an animated android with dead alien eyes, spouting soundbites as though they actually meant something.
BONO’S BUTT MOMENT
After the final communiqué, showbiz B&B shared with the assembled press their relationship with political B&B – Bush and Blair.
As Bono explained: ‘I’ve been a friend of the PM for a long time. I’m not satisfied with the deal and I’m gonna kick his butt. As it happens it’s a very nice butt, as PM’s go. I think he made a mistake and I think he’ll follow through in his own time. I like him very much… I didn’t really say that about his butt, did I?’
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THE PHOTO OPP MOMENT
In the surreal Theatre de Complicité that was the Gleneagles G8 media event, two moments stand out.
One was the photo opp provided by two of the black-uniformed, Kevlar-armoured, machine-gun wielding Special Forces personnel when requested to provide a pic by small ngo.
‘Where do you want us to stand? Sunglasses on or off? Arm around you? Can you get us three of those golfing umbrellas?’
Tired and dazed, small ngo clambered onto the media charabanc back to Edinburgh. Outside, waiting staff and police queued patiently for their media goody bags. Suddenly, one cheery representative of the boys in blue leapt onto the bus.
‘Would anyone like to make a donation to the Police Benevolent Fund?’
Mystified looks. Murmurs of ‘he’s got to be kidding’. Finally, an Italian journo, with a look of world-weary resignation, pulled his bottle of 12-year-old whiskey from its goody bag and handed it over.
‘Thanks very much,’ said the smiley representative of law and order, before departing to party with his chums.
‘He’s probably done that with every bus,’ mused the Italian.
Perhaps what you might call a ‘I thought that sort of thing was only supposed to happen in the global south’ moment?
Pamela Nowicka is Media Officer with Tourism Concern.
For more see: Poverty and the G8: So... what now?
Also: Eyes wide open at the G8
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