Slow birth of a Nation

Almost every day now emerges confirmation that had some form of collective deliberation and action not existed among our small, brittle states, we would have had to urgently apply every hue and shade from our vast creative palette to design an appropriate response to matters now emergent globally in measures of life and death.

It is true our Caribbean has not always engaged fraternity with untrammeled self-esteem and courage, and the patchwork quilt we have contrived is too often viewed from the messy underside. But there has been an unfolding design best examined by eyes acting unapologetically on behalf of minds … and hearts.

For what we have before us is in fact a home. A house of many mansions. Our space. And, for the vast majority of us, our past, our present, and our future. For us, for me, the decision has been to stay and to hopefully help construct a single space beyond boundaries marked by flags and solemn pledges that often fade and become backdrops to landscapes of the large and strong and boisterous.

Nobody ever said it would be easy, and we've actually been at this much longer than the fifty years the buntings for which drape our troubled islands this short week. We in fact came formally to a semblance of this through colonial ambition, sometime before the seductive call of individual and collective self-determination.

In 1966, CLR James surmised that the imperialists had indeed “poisoned and corrupted that sense of self-confidence and political dynamic needed for any people about to embark on the uncharted seas of independence and nationhood.”

Then, as he addressed a Montreal audience, CLR turned dramatically to the words of George Lamming: “Free is how you is from the start, an’ when it look different you got to move, just move, an’ when you movin’ say that it is a natural freedom that make you move.”

By then, we had already spurned the hopeful mold of federation (1958-1962) and begun to temper our passions to the rudiments of a Caribbean Free Trade Area (CARIFTA) - today mostly and anachronistically remembered as an annual platform for emerging sporting excellence, and not for unrealised, lofty ambition on trade and commerce and fraternal relations that faltered and fell in 1972.

So it was in 1973, even as the then European Economic Community (EEC) was finding second breath with the admission of the UK, Ireland, and Denmark, something called the Caribbean Community and Common Market (Caricom) was inaugurated.

Today it is one of the oldest surviving integration movements in the developing world. Some commentators do not apparently count the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) established in 1967.

We observe 50 at a time when partnerships are in states of sharp realignment. Foes are becoming friends and friends now turn to foes. The enemies of some enemies are now our friends, and the friends of enemies our foes.

It is, in a sense, the timeless, spaceless digitalisation of engagement, as opposed to past analogical relations - tending more and more in the direction of cohesion for solutions; in many instances in the face of fragmentation. It might well be that things have always been like this, but these are perilous times during which there is no promise to survive.

In small spaces such as ours, after all, the option to disappear or to depart is always before us like a tattered menu. There are flags on these islands and coastal states that flutter restlessly. Feet, like awkward moko-jumbies, which often stomp to one side and then the next. And often, there is a stumbling, then a fall. And the outstretched hands aren’t always clawless and kind.

Aimé Césaire is mandatory reading on such matters – not the hopelessness of the return to his native (colonised) land, but his instructions for survival.

At the end of it all, fifty – half a century – means very little on its own. Again, CLR: “I believe that there is taking place today in the Caribbean, one of the most exciting and unusual developments in the modern world – the formation of a new nation.”

He must have known that for the purpose of survival, we can and should not have it any other way.

Postscript: I don’t think any Caricom anniversary celebration is complete without mention of the journalists who, over the years, made sure that official events sometimes staged in cynical secrecy were dissected and interpreted on behalf of Caribbean media audiences.

Here are some I have worked with and can vouch for their valuable contributions: Torchbearers: Rickey Singh, Dr Canute James, Peter Richards, Hugh Croskill, Andy Johnson, and Bert Wilkinson. There are many more. But these are my top picks.

Elections and migrant policy

(First published in the T&T Guardian on June 28, 2023)

It took Miriam Aertker, head of an international inter-governmental agency occupying often controversial space in T&T to remind everybody that, one week ago, the global UN system was calling on people everywhere to take a moment to recognise World Refugee Day.

“Refugees and asylum-seekers are uplifting the communities they live in,” Aertker is quoted as saying last Sunday at Refugee Day observances in Chaguanas – a community that has become emblematic for its embrace of the phenomenon.

Few others ventured to engage the subject on June 20, even as the fury and hubris of campaigning for local government elections and an otherwise packed and heated public agenda occupied hearts and minds.

There are sufficient signals in the public space to suggest that our country’s messy engagement of international and humanitarian law, against the backdrop of stated commitments to convention and best practice have painted an unimpressive picture of where we as a nation stand on this important issue – whatever the poor examples set by the big and wealthy.

In addition to the technical nuances of our migrant challenges – and bear in mind we are not speaking only about Venezuelans now resident in T&T – there are underlying questions related to the entire nation’s predisposition on a matter on which we have, over time, been both subjects and objects.

All of this should thus not confound us as much as it apparently has. The (Venezuelan) registration process, for example, exhibits the several confusions. Important questions regarding the persistence of the challenge of Venezuelan migration and the pervasive positive and negative outcomes that are likely are in need of clear answers.

Had there been better informed policy, guided by a body of consistent political and public opinion informed by an understanding of the main socio-political principles involved to achieve peace, cohesion and productive outcomes, there would have been no need for current ad hoc and improvised arrangements.

The conduct of the process appears to reflect official indecision and imprecision in applying set guidelines and principles.

Even so, the political combatants have not been consistent with their public messaging on this question. The “close the borders” crowd now confusingly straddles continuing xenophobic resistance and ill-defined proposals for reform, some of which betray an ignorance of what is required to ensure compliance with humanitarian imperatives and our own underdeveloped policy infrastructure.

I am, by the way, composing this while at work in a country, Sierra Leone, that has had more than its fair share of refugee challenges. During a civil war waged between 1991 and 2002, thousands of nationals fled violence that led to at least 50,000 deaths and devastating injuries that remain evident as disability statistics. When voluntary repatriation was offered in 2008, a majority returned.

There is evidence that in the case of Venezuelan migrants in T&T, there has been a notable degree of repatriation and re-assimilation on the mainland. There has not been the same horrific violence witnessed 20 years ago where I am, but a similar requirement for orderly processes to find acceptable space both at home and in host countries.

Meanwhile, back in T&T, the political aspirants with eyes fixed on August 14, have found little to be attractive in the issues associated with democracy and rights, and the vast potential of those who now not only share space with us, but have become an interwoven element of our social fabric.

This is clearly an issue that has the potential to substantially boost our democratic credentials. But we have not always seemed prepared to pick up the political tab.

All the things we treasure and love – enterprise, music, art, sport, food – now find broader even more diverse space in the face of our already well-known heterogeneity.

But, even as Aertker spoke, not one political party was busily asserting concern about the plight of people living in this small space; perhaps out of fear that this would offer evidence of inconsistency with current political messaging.

The current scenario does not engender significant optimism. Children remain out of school, some newborn have reportedly not been registered, the provision of primary health care has been inconsistent and challenging, and secondary and tertiary care are, by way of practice, explicitly excluded as an entitlement at state facilities under our 2019 health policy for non-nationals.

Last week, the UN Secretary-General António Guterres reminded everyone of our “duty to protect and support refugees - and our obligation to open more avenues of support. This includes solutions to resettle refugees and to help them rebuild their lives in dignity.”

Was anyone here paying attention?