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The Military History Museum is a national treasure and represent the invaluable work of an individual and his supporters and that that individual no longer has the energy to fight for it does not mean it should be raised. It is one of the few real substantial heritage institutions that exists in its own right in T&T, struggling and succeeding where better resourced national museums are dismally deficient. They can well take a page out of the kind of commitment it takes to sustaining an institution like this.The Chaguramas Development Authority will do well to note that its current location makes it ideal for inttegrating it into its upgrade plans for the district, apart form the fact of the historic-on-several fronts district of Chaguaramas which speak to our existence from prehistory, through colonialism, independence and beyond, is iconic as part of marine, underwater, built, natural, political, social and historical evolution, and really, a boardwalk (!!??, and the Chaguaramas Development Authority’s development (!!??) plans??? And where does that coincide or depart from “national” development plans?
Gaylord Kelshall is a decorated national hero, who even wthout the decorations, and his history in the navy has through his work at the museum, the model club, outdoor war game activities and others has been an inspiration to many young and old. The hobby club actively gave participants an outlet for any trigger-happiness in a craetive, constructive and safe manner that the millions misdirected funding in being poured into short sighted projects in South East POS could do well to learn from on how to effectively empower young people into constructive activties.
I sat at Kelshall’s feet many times as a young reporter, initiating the Discover Trinidad and Tobago series which later also inspired AVM Television’s winning series Cross Country and my writigns of this series, as he filled the blanks in my knowledge of local history and connections that neither primary, nor secondary not tertiary level education provided then, nor now.
In editing and writing the introduction to his book, The Gateway To South America (http://openlibrary.org/books/OL23185567M/The_gateway_to_South_America), how humbled I felt, and priviliged to be so close to knowledge of the pivotal role Trinidad played in the revolutionar movements towards Independence of so many of the countries of Latin America and how the South American heroes as Simon Bolivar and others were as much ours as theirs – an element that is glarngly absense in our education system. It was knowledge that, categorically, no one else holds! CDA should be looking to capture that rather than start a new war.
As his health fails, the knowledge Kelshall has projected and transferred into the museum is an irreplaceable legacy. The CDA should see the Chaguaramas Military History Museum as a monument to this exemplary citizen as well as the story of not only the Trinidad and Tobago and the region, not try to tuck it out of site.
CDA moves to evict Military Museum: Founders want $25m to move | The Trinidad Guardian Newspaper
Are we any wiser?
Do we have a sense of direction that will drive transformation of the governance of T&T?
Do we have a vision for a better framework of governance: made of the people of T&; for the people of T&T; and by the people of T&T?
Or are we merely repackaging old casked mercantilist rum in new bottles as we try to forcefit ourselves in one of two already tottering models of governance – the British Westminster system and the US Presidential model.
Time to rethink our approach for what works best for us.
To begin this probe, let’s flash back to an article written in the lead up to the 2010 elections: Have any of these found resolution in the recent rounds of constitutional reform talks; or have they been just that: talk? More in the introduction to Through the Political Glass Ceiling available on Amazon Kindle and local bookshops:
Constitutional Crisis of Leadership
Various analyses tell us that the leadership blunders of the past few decades point to the Trinidad and Tobago’s Constitution as the culprit, and there is an indisputable need for constitution reform, given evident flaws in T&T Constitutions past and present.
Both the 1961 (Independence) Constitution and the 1976 (Republic) Constitution were clearly already obsolete from their inception, with their unworkable British import of the first-past-the-post/winner-take-all model and evident failure, as they disenfranchise large numbers of voters, as occurred in the 1981, 2001, 2002 and 2007 general elections.
The alternative, proportional representation, which offers each party numbers of seats in Parliament, according to the proportion of votes they command, has received some attention, but, like first-past-the-post, it upholds a party-based system that gives politicians divine status, and places them at the centre of decision-making, which we have seen, with demands for a bottoms-up approach, itself cannot hold.
The Wooding (1971) and Hyatali (1974) Commissions, set up to explore constitutional reform, proposed another, a mixed system drawing from first-past-the-post and proportional representative models. This has been rejected by the PNM’s Williams and Manning, though all—PNM and the commissions—premised their arguments on our diversity which they defined largely as ethnic diversity.
Manning put forward, in 2006, a “working document” on constitutional reform, drawn up primarily by a one-man commission (former President Ellis Clarke), and after-the-fact staged some public “consultations”—an approach interpreted as paying lip service to public opinion. Executive president? His draft provided for an executive president, as in the USA, which would give even more executive powers to an already maximum leader of the first-past-the-post system, without correcting (but rather further emasculating) those instruments and institutions that provide checks and balances on such “Massa” power.
These include the judiciary and the legislature, and others as the Ombudsman, the Director of Public Prosecution, the Commissioner of Police, the magistracy, Commissions for Integrity, Judicial and Legal Services, Police Service, Public Service, Teaching Service. etc.
It also proposes to restrict the principle of freedom of expression (the media) by altering the Bill of Rights. Another constitution, drafted by the self-assigned 2006 Fairness Committee of four, leaned on a further amalgamation—of the Manning model (though produced before Manning’s) supporting an executive president, along with a mixed system of proportional representation and first-past-the-post, as recommended by the Wooding and Hyatali Commissions.
One challenge after the other to the constitution has surfaced, since the NAR, to show that the constitution is not just dog-eared, but coming apart at the seams and irrelevant in a rapidly-changing world:
1. The PNM’s challenge of Winston “Gypsy” Peters’ dual citizenship;
2. The 2002 18-18 deadlocked elections which were not catered for in the constitution;
3. Other challenges, mainly related to cockfighting, by Panday and Robinson—appointments through the Senate of people who had been defeated in the polls;
4. The chicken-and-egg crisis precipitated by the Standing Order for electing a Speaker before convening the House, when neither party wanted to propose a Speaker.
The constitution of Trinidad and Tobago, as it is, has outlived its usefulness.
To justify his quest for an executive president/US-styled governance system, (Then) PNM leader Patrick Manning has sought to justify his high-handed approach to decision-making with arguments that the extremely diverse nature of the society and their many competing interests made it difficult to govern, and needed “strong” leadership. But at the risk of sounding like a prophetess, the diversity of T&T is, indeed, its primary character, and anyone who cannot manage our diversity is doomed to failure!
Anyone who wants to govern effectively must unite the diversity, rather than seek ever more exclusive power to overrule it; (the consequences of ignoring the public over an extended period have been graphically illustrated by the events of recent weeks).
The constitution—and the Westminster-styled parliamentary system it establishes cannot accommodate that diversity.
The PNM—undeniably the most experienced party in T&T—argue that neither could proportional representation. Both, it seems, are partly in the right; but wholly wrong.
Leadership crisis—single party or coalition
The search for the ideal model has been around the debate of whether the single party or coalition government is the better model. Both have been tried and tested and found wanting. As analyst Dr Bishnu Ragoonath observed, the three occasions when our governments prematurely collapsed have been as single-party governments—Panday’s in 2001 and Manning’s in 1995, and 2010. Majority rule by a maximum leader, with powers equivalent to the divine right of kings, in a single party is losing sway on a population becoming more astute and unwilling to continue as blind, unquestioning, sheep-like followers.
Governance by any one majority ethnic group has become unsavoury to growing and more vociferous elements, demanding recognition of our cultural and other diversity, denied in Williams “No Mother India, no Mother Africa” maxim which seemed not to grasp the complexity of the identity issue.
Nor have coalitions worked either; not two examples, the alliance governments of 1986 and 1991—both of which evolved out of forces opposing the PNM and including Panday’s UNC, Robinson’s Democratic Action Congress, Karl Hudson-Phillips’ Organisation for National Reconstruction, Lloyd Best’s Tapia and various others.
They failed because…
They failed, not because the structure of the coalitions was tested, nor because of challenges of managing our complex diversity—they never got a chance. They failed because—as with the maximum leader mode of single-party politics—managing the diverse egos of a man-rat-driven political culture, continuously tested the constitution and the governance model, promoting the eminence of constitutional lawyers and legal Messiahs. They failed because of unenlightened or misguided leadership that failed to respect the needs and wishes of its people.
It may seem a far stretch to connect the current state of emergency that we are now in with the sudden collapse and subsequent death of Pat Bishop on Saturday (August 20) during a meeting meant to borrow value from the culture sector for national development. But is it really?
Pat’s death may in fact signal the kind of cultural state of emergency in which we find ourselves. If, as a society, we cannot link the killings and the curfew and other quick fixes with the state of our arts and culture in the struggles articulated in her life, and so poignantly in her last days, then it speaks volumes about the state of our nation as we look for solutions to crime and other social negatives across the country.
It also seems particularly significant as we prepare to ‘celebrate’ our 49th anniversary of Independence next week, celebrations which will take place under the shroud of the state of emergency. It certainly represents how far away we have moved from the aspirations and hope and optimism that must have hung over that moment in our history 49 years ago when the national flag of Trinidad and Tobago was first hoisted, when the national anthem was first sung, when the people of Trinidad and Tobago asserted themselves as a self-governing independent nation responsible for its own destiny.
In fact, part of the mandate of the meeting at which Bishop collapsed was to define ways of celebrating our next, the 50th anniversary of Independence in 2012.
Pat Bishop threw herself into the discussions with the kind of passion she is said to resonate in all her work as a painter, musician, conductor, orator, historian, lecturer, mentor; and that, despite her skepticism of the outcome of yet another committee, another panel, another meeting, to discuss the way forward for national development, for the culture of T&T, and the culture sector.
When I had expressed similar skepticism, she looked at me with that sympathetically knowing look that comes with the wisdom of years and the frank bluntness many expect of her and said: ‘and you are just a baby, yet. I can’t tell you how many of these I have been in; how many truckloads of reports I have at my home.”
It was a bitter pill for her to swallow that perhaps those were efforts in futility in pursuit of her stated vision “that my countrymen may find their place in the sun,” as she cites as her goal in her resume.
A child of pre-Independence Trinidad and Tobago, Pat Bishop was born at the crux of the nationalist movement of the 1940’s. The vision of people’s empowerment ignited by the trade unions, regionalism, federation and the movement towards self governance; of self assertion and of aspiration to be whatever a fledgling nation wanted to be, were all embedded in her ample personage.
She would have been twenty-two years old when the red, white and black national flag of Trinidad and Tobago was hoisted for the first time; when the national anthem with its assertion of “boundless faith in our destiny” and its final refrain, “every creed and race finds an equal place” was first sung.
But she lived those words. Independence was an iconic word then; icon is now the word that will attach itself to descriptions of her life and works.
I did not know Pat Bishop well before the few days within the last few weeks when I sat at the same table with her, and got glimpses of her encyclopaedia of experiences which she was so generous to share to those willing to receive knowledge. But I did, to some extent, know and was touched by her work as a musician, painter and orator and have interviewed her occasionally over the years.
In fact, one of my earliest inspirations for my work in the culture sector, following on gestation from involvements in our village community, was when I was preparing a special television report to examine the potential of the then upcoming Carifesta V which T&T was preparing to host in 1992. Her vision of a Caribbean united through the vitality of its arts poured out in images of quicksilver that seemed so tangible and so elusive at the same time. It is a vision that has kept its potency through the years and which she has tirelessly asserted through her every activity as vibrant, alive, real, and certainly, achievable.
She embraced in her work the cultural incubators that are in the main in the obscure and often invisible village niches and tried to connect them to the vast field of opportunities available at the national and international levels in her tireless pursuit to have her countrymen benefit from those opportunities as well as her experiences. She kept an enduring faith in the power of the arts to transform, regenerate, to provide sustenance for its users, benefactors and beneficiaries, and to nourish them both physically and spiritually. She was an academic who never lost sight of the significance of informal education influences and processes that included popular culture. She recognised the value of providing avenues for self expression in the language of various forms – music, art, design, words and the connection between such self-confidence and the self image it defined as essential life-skills and companion to critical thinking and a compelling alternative to those expressions that manifested themselves in violence and criminal activity.
She held firmly to the notion that well-visioned, well-structured and well-managed culture systems were the antidote to the negative self image, lack of self confidence and the essential elixir to cultivation of a sense of self and nation self.
Very little angered her as much as any suggestion that elements of the cultural sector were at loggerheads, or that differences among them were related to ethnicity. That was a position she derived from long experience of working with groups of all races and classes at all levels in T&T. It was not a dream to be realised; it was already real.
She embodied the reservoirs of cultural energy that resides in so many of our artists and culture practitioners. Where resources did not exist, (or was not accessible to the arts) she created them. Drawing on the creative power of her artistic genius, she continuously improvised facilities and methods to make up for the deficiencies. She once said that she could have stayed in Britain after her studies and indulge in its rich array of arts; but chose to return to these islands where “if you want to enjoy a concert, you better make it yourself.” And she did make concert after concert after concert, as she did painting after painting after painting. So graphic and lyrical were her expressions that those who remember her speak, also felt that each of those speeches was a song, a painting, a gem to be treasured.
The spring well of her artistic energy fuelled her faith in the potential of T&T to rise above its circumstances as small islands in a vast globe and tremendous countercurrents, and that despite the weariness that seemed to be overcoming her spirit in trying time and again, and again, and yet again, to represent that position in boardrooms, and committees and panels. She fought that those of us around the table would not have to be fighting the same fight and in the same words some half a century hence.
“I would get kicked out, and every time they fired me, they gave me an award,” she would often say dryly.
She had many words to add throughout the meeting, held on a Saturday, her sacred day of engagement with her students which she so reluctantly gave up for the meeting. With an expressed aversion to use of technologies that were negatively moulding and growing mould over minds of men women and children, she upheld a vision of Trinidad and Tobago as a collective of tremendously talented people that is not imagined but real. She vehemently rejected any notion that the culture sector is divided and fragmented and that its various elements are at loggerheads with each other, but saw it as perpetuated myths by those who can best benefit from fuelling such divisions.
After many words reiterating those experiences, her last words to the culture panel last Saturday were:
“I have no words to add to this discourse. I have spoken at meetings like this all my life I have no more words to add. I am very tired. Maybe I am too old now.”
Bishop’s last words resound the weariness of the culture fraternity who have sat around such tables and in forums like those, eternally planning for the culture sector, lobbying for the realisation of the options that she and others like her offered, even in the face of the violence and the crime and the depletion of the youth communities with which she worked, often with very little, if any resources.
An enabling environment that included changes in thinking about development priorities, how those priorities are addressed, how they could be accommodated and activated in a national blueprint for development were what she brought to the table. It was a vision that accommodated all of Trinidad and Tobago, even as it championed our creativity and the arts and culture as the fuel with the best properties to ignite such progress in a way none of the abundance of energy resources ever could.