THE LAST STRAW/Frank McNally: In keeping with tradition, truth was an early casualty of the war in Iraq. And while the full extent of damage to the facts is not yet known, an incident as far away as Swaziland suggests it could be extensive.
According to a report in Johannesburg's Mail & Guardian newspaper, the Swazi state broadcasting service "was not about to be the only news organisation in the world without a man in Iraq covering the fighting". Sadly, the station had no money. So, the story continues, radio history was mined, and a leaf taken from Orson Welles's 1938 War of the Worlds broadcast, which convinced listeners that Manhattan was under attack from Martians.
In this fabrication, a reporter called Phesheya Dube was chosen for the dangerous assignment, which involved scouring the newspapers and wire services at home each night, and then reporting live from "Iraq" on the Swazi equivalent of Morning Ireland. The show's anchorman weighed in with supporting details, urging the reporter to "take care" among the falling bombs, and advising him to "find a cave where you can be safe".
Caves are fairly scarce in Baghdad, and even in the deserts of southern Iraq. But this clue did not alert listeners to the charade. Dube's cover was blown only when he took the unwise step of turning up at the Swazi parliament in Mbabane, where he was well-known.
MPs were at first relieved to see him safe - he'd been reporting from Iraq that very morning - but they quickly wised up to what everybody in the local media already knew. One deputy demanded an explanation from the minister responsible for the state-run station: "Why are they lying to the nation that the man is in Iraq, when he is here in Swaziland, broadcasting out of a broom closet?"
Journalists everywhere will be appalled at such deception. Most reporters would never, ever, pretend to be somewhere they haven't been (except when compiling expense claims, and then only if the required figure can't be arrived at by other means). Not even the exquisite detail that the reporter's first name is a Siswati word meaning - wait for it - "he who is overseas" excuses him completely.
No doubt the reporter could claim that his offence was a menial one in the great scheme of things: that the war itself was justified on the basis of dubious intelligence, claims that the regime in Baghdad had links with Martians, etc. But he didn't. Wisely, he blamed the anchorman. "I had no idea the presenter was telling people I was [in Iraq]," he said, adding (with a naivety that would be charming in anyone other than a journalist): "I think he did it to increase listener interest."
Surprisingly, the scandal drew little public reaction. But then the people of Swaziland are probably too busy keeping track of the antics of King Mswati III, the country's absolute monarch. Readers may recall that when he last featured in this column, King Mswati was the subject of a rumoured poisoning attempt organised by one of his eight wives. Happily, he survived and, according to the latest statistics, he now has 10 wives, and a number of "fiancées" as well.
His philandering is perfectly acceptable under Swazi law or, where it isn't, he is amenable to justice. For instance, I note from the archives that in 2001 he paid the traditional fine of "a cow" for having unlawful knowledge of one of his 17-year-old "fiancées". The knowledge was unlawful only because he himself had just imposed a "five-year sex ban" on "young maidens", a category into which she fell because, probably due to an oversight, he'd forgotten to marry her. Meanwhile, even with his official partners, there are complications. I read in the (English) Guardian this week that the mother of his 10th wife is fighting a legal action to have her daughter returned, months after the king formally asked for her hand by the traditional method of kidnapping.
Lest we're tempted to think Swaziland is any way backward, however, I also read that a parliamentary committee in Mbabane has rebuffed the king's plan to buy a luxury jet. He claims the jet is necessary for trips abroad, to attract investment, etc. But the committee has decided that the country - with its ailing economy and under-funded health service - can't afford it and the king should continue to use charter flights.
Yes, in some respects, the parallels are scary. But as a regular Dáil sketch-writer, all I can say is I wish the parliament here were half as colourful as the one in Mbabane. On quiet days in Leinster House, you might as well be reporting from home, in the broom closet.
