A masterclass in simplicity: How one gesture stunned a stadium
Philip Davies, president, EMEA at Siegel+Gale, writes about a Congolese football supporter who became the unofficial poster boy for the Africa Cup of Nations. He explores what branding can learn from Michel Kuka Mboladinga’s iconic – and unconventional – actions.
If you tuned in to the Africa Cup of Nations recently, you might not have been struck by a thirty-yard screamer or last-ditch tackle, but by a man who didn’t move at all. For the duration of the match, he stood perfectly still.
His gesture recalled the iconic stance of Patrice Lumumba, former prime minister of the Republic of Congo and immortalised in a statue in Kinshasa. His right arm is raised in a symbol of leadership, dignity and the struggle for independence. The image went viral not because it shouted, but because it connected.
Often, demonstrations fail for the same reason most brands do: they over-communicate. They explain too much, stack messages and assume attention is something you seize through volume. In saturated environments, whether markets or football stadiums, this rarely works. Noise blends into noise. What unfolded during DR Congo’s matches offered a different lesson.
This gesture stood out sharply against the usual chaos of the stadium, where chanting fans, waving flags and constant movement create a noisy, vibrant backdrop. In that environment, Michel Kuka Mboladinga’s stillness was not only unusual but impossible to ignore. From a branding perspective, its stillness was textbook differentiation: when everything else moves, the unmoving becomes the focus.
The raised hand was a powerful and simple symbol. It’s easy to recognise and carries many meanings – remembrance, resolve, resistance and pride – without tying itself down to just one. Crucially, it did not explain itself. Viewers were invited to complete the meaning on their own, thereby deepening emotional investment and dramatically improving recall.
And then there was the presentation. The colors, the cut of the jacket and stripes, the tie and just the sheer nattiness of it all. It looked deliberate. It looked dignified. It looked noble.
George Orwell once observed that all art is propaganda, but not all propaganda is art. So much contemporary political, social and commercial messaging is functionally correct but aesthetically blunt. Slogans, banners and demands that leave no room for interpretation. They present rather than persuade. They prioritise instruction over intrigue. Awareness may follow, but longevity rarely does.
Mboladinga’s gesture worked because it operated as art. It promoted national memory and identity, yet the form carried the message, not the explanation. The meaning emerged through observation, not instruction.
Endurance was the final multiplier. In the group match against Botswana, which went to extra time, he held the pose for more than 115 minutes. Duration transformed curiosity into respect. Time became proof of seriousness, separating the act from performative activism. Silence reinforced its authority. There was no chant, no placard, no hashtag, just presence.
From a branding standpoint, it was high-impact, low-noise communication. In an attention economy drowning in excess, simplicity isn’t minimalism for its own sake. It’s strategy. When everyone else is shouting, the most powerful thing you can do is stand still and let meaning come to you.
