Are we there yet?

Current events have driven me back to a memorable rant of August 2011 when I questioned the legitimacy (if not unconstitutional nature) of “a state of emergency to address the shortcomings of the police, judiciary, executive, and the people of Trinidad and Tobago” (my words).

A solution to the mounting violence and crime, I surmised, was thought to have been found through a momentary, sweeping suspension of a wide swathe of rights – a measure originally meant as a last and specific resort when all else has failed; so important being the value of durable human rights.

Back then came my sombre testimony that “the boots and guns are now in charge – a virtual takeover of the state by the state.” At the end of it, there were over 8,000 detainees and a pitiable number of convictions. Then, back to normal, and where we are now.

We kept hearing partisans present their respective, predictable cases. There were, apparently, political points to be earned.

By then, we had already been through the turbulent 1930s, the Black Power Revolution of 1970/71, and the hugely controversial state of public emergency “in the city of Port of Spain” in 1995 to force the late House Speaker Occah Seapaul from office.

In May 2021, the pandemic grew in domestic impact alongside a global COVID-19 emergency and an SoE was declared.

There remain those who for a variety of reasons (valid and invalid) thought it all irrational overkill and not a chance at erring on the side of extreme caution.

But here we are … one more time … and the calls have intensified, recently and ironically, by those whose legitimacy enjoys greatest succour from inalienable rights inclusive of religious belief and observance.

Government boots, you see, are not expected to be heard outside such doors – nor in the vicinity of others laying claim to exclusive, chronic, discriminatory victimhood.

So, yes, shut the doors and close those gates – but only if I am the one being kept safe inside. So mistaken are some that prohibitions serve only to raise the drawbridges to keep others out while many remain locked in.

There is sufficient precedent to support the view that draconian laws and the removal/suspension of rights offer limited, momentary reprieves, and little more. This is unless we conclude that rights and freedoms come at too high a price and decide to dump them indefinitely.

In Jamaica these days there are questions regarding the sustainability of relative communal peace through a succession of SoEs.

PM Andrew Holness was even moved to invoke the “rights of victims” as a presumptive trump card against the suggestion by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights that the country’s repeated reliance on SoEs to address criminal behaviour does not appear to meet standards set by the American Convention.

The Inter-American System has insisted that “to adopt such measures, States need to justify their reasonableness, necessity, and proportionality in the context of the emergency. Additionally, indispensable judicial guarantees must be maintained in force in all circumstances.” (Think T&T 2011)

For too many, an insistence on meeting such standards reflects blindness, as Holness has suggested, to harsh realities on the ground. This assertion is however meant to effectively mute dissenting voices which, in the case of Jamaica, includes the political opposition and human rights groups.

Like here, many publicly assign to SoEs the collateral “benefit” of extra-judicial executions. Tell me you have not heard it said that “we just need to kill ‘them’ off” as a solution to the growth in murderous violence.

There were even Trinis openly hoping T&T would follow the path of former Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte whose “war on drugs” led to thousands of deaths at police hands.

To me, this is what many people mean by their support for the suspension of rights in an environment of fear – a situation not always based on actual levels of risk or threat.

It is meanwhile true that under-performance in the areas of community action, policing, the administration of justice, media performance, and politics is abundantly evident. If indeed so, in what ways does a constitutionally provisioned state of national emergency resolve this condition?

In El Salvador they thought they had found the key. In the Philippines, “achievements” were brutally pyrrhic. In South Africa, SoEs were used as effective tools of brutal suppression. The Brazilians have been wrestling with this approach for years.

The question for us is whether we have reached a point where, at recognisable risk, we are prepared to relinquish the freedoms we cherish, to benefit from what have been widely acknowledged to be questionable short-term reliefs.

Have we really reached there yet?