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They Stand Their Ground, We Pay the Price

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I don’t tackle politics, religion or race in this space very often — in fact, I don’t think I ever have. One rule I have stood by — which has evolved over the course of the last several years as our society has become increasingly polarized — is to never discuss politics or religion with strangers, especially if you’re going to be stuck sitting next to them on a five-hour flight. Even with friends, I’m cautious — I have no idea if someone has been surreptitiously radicalized by prolonged exposure to Glenn Beck or MSNBC while I wasn’t looking. These days, even your best friend might suddenly want to occupy something.

But sensitive social issues have a way of having economic implications, and sometimes those can grow into surprisingly significant propositions. That’s what I thought about when I read that music legend Stevie Wonder vowed to not perform anywhere in Florida again until the state repeals its “Stand Your Ground” law. That law was at the center of the trial of neighborhood watch volunteer George Zimmerman, who was found not guilty of murder or manslaughter for shooting and killing Trayvon Martin, and unarmed teenager, in Feb. 2012. The acquittal of Zimmerman prompted protests and demonstrations nationwide, most peaceful, a few not so. But Wonder’s announcement takes it to another level, one of formal boycott, and with all the economic consequences that come with that.

Out of Africa

One thinks back to another situation widely perceived as unjust. Back in 1985, after Stevie Wonder, who spoke out in support of a still-imprisoned Nelson Mandela when accepting an Oscar for the song, ‘‘I Just Called to Say I Love You,’’ had his music banned from South Africa’s government-owned radio stations. That same year, the E Street Band’s Little Steven rallied dozens of music artists to record Sun City, the anti-apartheid 1985 album.

Like Little Steven, I got to see, but did not play, Sun City, a casino venue built within one of the fig-leaf “homelands” set up by South Africa’s apartheid government to suggest the illusion that the country’s black indigenous population actually had any real autonomy. I was there, in the former Bophuthatswana homeland state, in the early 1990s, to witness the construction of what was, at the time, the world’s largest recording studio.

It’s interesting how performance venues like BOP Studios, as the place came to be known, or Sun City itself, become attention points in social and political battles. Both managed to survive the strife around them, though it’s hard to say they’ve thrived since then. The artistic boycott of South Africa revived a once-dormant larger economic boycott, called disinvestment, which, along with legislation passed by the U.S. Congress that made South Africa an official pariah, ultimately led to the dissolution of Bophuthatswana and dismantling of the apartheid system.

While few would argue that was a step in the wrong direction, it did lead to the loss of thousands of jobs in the entertainment and other industries, many of which took decades to return, if they came back at all. Another case where production workers took a hit when others took a stand was the 2007-2008 strike by the Writer’s Guild of America (WGA). In March, 2008, I wrote about the financial havoc on the broadcast and film entertainment industry, and the packed Strike Survival Workshops staged by IATSE and the Motion Picture Trust Fund. Estimates of that strike’s costs to the local economy in Los Angeles alone ranged from $380 million to $1.5 billion, adding to the sizable impact felt in New York.

As I mentioned back then, it seems that small, independent vendors of services, from lighting to staging, video and projection, tend to be the first to feel the heat from actions like these, well before the larger entities who actually have the wherewithal to change things feel the impact. Those entities will tend to hold out, hoping that the impetus for change — be it a union contract or a law or a government — will flag before they have to change anything.

Florida on the Front Lines

That’s what Florida entertainment service providers can look forward to if Wonder’s boycott picks up steam, and if it extends to any of the other states — more than 30 — that have similar laws on their books. The statutes vary, but basically state that deadly force is permissible as long as a person is, A) not engaged in an unlawful activity; B) is being attacked in a place he has a right to be, and C) reasonably believes that his life and safety are in danger as a result of an overt act or perceived threat committed by someone else.

In fact, Wonder’s already there:  “Wherever I find that law exists, I will not perform in that state or in that part of the world,” he told the audience at the July 14 concert in Quebec where he made his announcement a day after the Zimmerman jury announced its verdict.

Florida has a huge entertainment infrastructure, from the mega-amusement parks in Orlando to the massive casinos and their theaters in South Florida. Film is still a major industry in the state, with Florida ranking third in the U.S. for film production, after California and New York. Miami alone accounts for about $2 billion in combined entertainment earnings and employs an estimated 15,000 workers in various roles, including lighting and staging.

The whole thing could peter out, of course, and we’ll likely know that by the time you’re reading this. (Since Wonder’s announcement, Jay Z and Justin Timberlake’s joint concert went on as scheduled August 16 at Sun Life Stadium, and artists including Beyoncé and the Rolling Stones have shrugged off questions about it. Film and television production continues apace there. Stevie Wonder even visited Miami’s South Beach to relax in late August, but apparently didn’t perform anywhere.)

Even so,  I thought it was worth a reminder of the enormous impact that the entertainment industries collectively wield; the fact that, as they did in South Africa over two decades ago, they are capable of enabling change on a global scale; and the inevitable fact that workers in these industries are almost always on the front lines of the battles for change, and are the ones who are asked to give first and, often, to give the most.