RaDical MiDDle - ColdType

Radical Middle | 91
with a one-party Inkatha state, terrifically benign, Inkatha
having got there after “… having had no choice but to switch
the button of violence ON”.
It wasn’t profound politics, but it spoke of an interesting state
of mind; real people. I ran it, aware that pointy-heads would
again draw unfavourable comparisons between the intellectual
content of Frontline and the intellectual content of the London
Lefty Bible the New Statesman, and the anti-Inkatha gang
would shriek.
On the Thursday after Paul’s death, Gael and Deirdre and
cassandra and I went together to his funeral. When we got back
the answering machine was packed with queries: what did we
have to say about Frontline’s banning?
We knew nothing. We didn’t know we’d been banned, we
didn’t know what we’d been banned for, we didn’t even know
if this was the red card, all-subsequent-editions (which often
came with no warning), or just the watch-it, the single edition.
But after four hard-sought ban-free years, with my heart and
head full of Paul’s funeral, I wasn’t at my calm, cool, possibly
mythical best. To Deirdre’s distress I handed out intemperate
opinions on the publications committee’s morals, manners,
acumen and ancestry to all who asked.
When the smoke coming out of my ears throttled back to a
plume, we got around to finding out why. My Voice-era friends
at Publications Directorate were nowhere to be found. after lots
of phoning-around an obliging official in cape Town read out
the committee’s report – slowly, while we wrote it down. I’m
sure that all of this was irregular.
We had been banned for six words, “switch the button of
violence ON”.
after more ranting about the committee, which would look
awfully juvenile in the cold light of print next morning, I got
through to Pretoria and the new head of the appeal Board,
Kobus van rooyen. Kobus was not used to agitated publishers
screeching about a wussy little single-issue banning. for some
it was at worst as painful as being slapped with a powderpuff