Caricom's Haiti Challenge

Last week’s release of an investigative report by the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) on the “grip of gang violence” on the Brooklyn neighbourhood of Cité Soleil, provides an instructive backdrop to this week’s Caricom Inter-Sessional meeting in The Bahamas which begins today.

For one, and whatever its limited scope (Haiti is much, much more than this large, impoverished community within a much more expansive city of Port-au-Prince), the report supports the view that gang violence is but the dorsal fin on a monstrous creature on the verge of terminal submersion.

But it has become almost fashionable to focus on this one key symptom and to declare populistic solidarity. This has made it pretty easy to activate expressions of interest in the current invitation to invade.

However problematic such an approach, this situation cannot continue. In Brooklyn alone, between July and December 2022, at least 263 people were killed and 285 injured. People’s homes have been raided, pillaged, and destroyed. Women and girls attacked.

Gangs now control food and water supplies. In cases where it was the norm, children have been unable to attend school, and some of the young boys are being recruited to patrol the streets and participate in acts of violence.

By all means, being party to what the OHCHR has prescribed as “deployment of a time-bound specialised support force under conditions that conform with international human rights laws and norms, with a comprehensive and precise action plan”, is an acceptable stop-gap measure guaranteed to end the violence … for the time being.

At the current rate, with over 200 active gangs in Port-au-Prince and some northern towns alone, it is necessary to simultaneously and promptly apply ameliorative measures to satisfy endemic deprivation. Otherwise, a return to square one is absolutely guaranteed within a very short space of time.

Some of this has happened before – trouble, solidarity, invited occupation, stop-gap measures, gradual withdrawal, and rapid return to a self-destructive status quo. All the while as intense migrant outflows (a declared feature of Caribbean self-interest) remain the norm.

However loathsome their parochial, political and regulatory interventions, the Dominicans next door embody a useful reference point for confronting some stark realities.

When Caricom meets today, they are also going to discuss overdue elections, knowing well that elections of any kind are impossible under current conditions. As if elections by themselves are likely to signal any kind of political normalcy. In Haiti, they have not in the past.

The OHCHR report suggests that at least one main gang has “regularly carried out violent acts to take control of neighbourhoods under the influence of the Brooklyn gang and its allies, both to strengthen the electoral bases of its potential sponsors (among others, potential candidates for presidential, legislative, and communal elections) and to increase its illegal revenues.”

The implication here is that even with the return of elections there is little possibility that criminal insurgency will end. It is a classic case of elections not being a reliable indicator of street-level democratic values.

The region, together with the global community, has been going along with a false narrative of triumphant hope. Under the influence of such denial, as I have argued before, the admission of Haiti as a member of Caricom was based entirely on fanciful ideological factors.

Ever since, it has been rocky going. The country has not been a constant, reliable ally in hemispheric relations. The PetroCaribe splurge – described in one judicial proclamation as “an orgy of corruption” was never openly discussed at regional fora and remains like a neglected boil on the buttocks of the integration movement.

In presenting the report, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Türk, saw a country that “lurches from crisis to crisis.”

“The way out of these multiple human rights crises must be owned and led by the people of Haiti, but the magnitude of the problems is such that they need the international community’s active attention and targeted support,” he added.

True. But the prerogative of the former call to self-determination has always been far more difficult to engage than the latter compulsion to intervene from outside and above. Who knows what’s the magic formula? Most of us don’t. This is Caricom's most intractable challenge.

Another Panorama

By popular demand (actually the request of two friends on social media), I hereby offer a substantially reviewed version of two posts that assigned imaginary steelband names to the different groups of steelpan audiences in another kind of Panorama competition.

Fresh out of Sunday’s semi-final, I however confess to a measure of prior imprecision. I realised that there may in fact be, “crack shots” - fully capable of rendering services to multiple bands, albeit on different instruments to conceal their presence. So, some of you may know lead players in more than one group.

On another field of play, it would be like Lionel Messi coming on after halftime to play for Portugal and not expecting to be recognised. Though, for pan, you can move from one section to the next or, as Eric McAllister suggests, change jersey in order to compete against yourself.

Exodus Steel Orchestra

Anyway, last week I tested an important hypothesis. It had to do with the variety of responses to Panorama results. I essentially asserted that there were in fact groupings of armchair judges that could appropriately be assigned their own steelbands. Current howls of protest, post-semis, indicate some urgency.

For example, “Panyardists United” comprises people who judge the merits or demerits of bands by faithfully visiting as many panyards as possible. Again, this is not a cohesive bunch. Because within this band are those who only visit panyards in one region. Their “crawl” is therefore defined by borders in such a way that “the best” typically come only from the region they have visited.

Most players in “Panyardists United” are therefore usually condemned to a dissonant, sputtering engine room, with a few “crack shots” who push their way to the frontline.

Hot Spot Tourists

This group also includes the “Hot Spot Tourists” (HST) rhythm section. They are chauffeured in mini vans to practice sessions – usually in a single region - in their flowery cotton shirts, shorts, and white shoes. There are two sub-categories – “domestic” HSTs and “non-residential” HSTs.

“Non-residential HSTs consider themselves to be in a nationwide “Hot Spot” anyway, while “domestic” HSTs are known to declare to friends the following day: “If you only know where I went!”

Domestic HSTs are the ones who know the name of the Rasta guy on double seconds and loudly call out his name to impress newbie HSTs. Then, when the season ends, goes back to crossing the street whenever they see “Herbie” coming toward them on the pavement.

HSTs are the ones with all the bright ideas about “saving” the young people by teaching them pan or providing basketball courts … sponge cake with icing … so that HSTs won’t have to put their FULs to use.

Phase II Pan Groove

Many of them can quite easily float over to the frontline of the “Grand Standists.” The “Grand Standists” frequently reference Royal Albert Hall where peanut vendors dare not enter the auditorium – particularly in the middle of a performance – and where patrons put down their bottle and spoons while pan playing.

Like the members of “Pan Music Nostalgia” from Port of Spain and environs, their choice of winner can be based on what a particular band played in 1963! They are the types you can turn to at the height of a breakdown in data for quick information on what that band played in 1977 and who was the arranger.

My dear friend, Shelly, who resides in the USA has been a player in the frontline of “Panyardists United” and “Grand Standists” in the past. Today, she is a confirmed 12-bassist with “Pan Virtualists” – comprising diasporic specialists. They do not miss a single beat. From Schools to Juniors to Small, Medium and to Large, “Pan Virtualists” witness it all. They are the supreme, ultimate armchair and pillow pan experts.

Renegades

“Pan Virtualists” are, however, not to be mistaken for those who are almost wholly absent from all the action but hold firm views on who should or should not win.

“Pan Riders” cannot tell you what song is being played, who is the arranger, where the panyard can be found, who is the leader, who is the arranger, but declare strong views about the fact that the band, whose name is the only one they remember, should win.

There is hope for them eventually becoming a part of “Panyardists United” partly because geography as a component of success typically guides their thoughts on pan, and they won’t have far to drive.

Meanwhile, “The Green Cacophony Stage Orchestra” actually has nothing to do with pan. But, somehow, they enter the competition, thankfully only now and then. In time to come, they will get the pan to turn down the volume, at which point they can compete against themselves.

 

Rohlehr’s heart of gold

Really? Prof. couldn’t wait till the music subsided and the emotions ebbed at the estuary of a season that took so long to arrive? Instead, midstream Caroni (whew, not Essequibo!) - between the contestations of pan, and the loud, often cacophonous proclamations of force-ripe griots, and the sharpening of the mas’ makers’ tools – was where he left us clinging to flimsy rafts bearing precious assets.

Those who suggest the books and speeches and memorabilia left behind are sufficient to the cause of celebration wholly miss the distinction between a man and his divisible work. Consequently, most of us Caribbean folk are more likely than not to underestimate the value of what we have lost, even in recognising a bountiful legacy.

With public intellectuals, openness accounts as much for a willingness to share as it has to do with ease of access to the essence of their work. Read anything Gordon Rohlehr has written or listen to what he has said, and you will readily recognise an intention to reach all hearts and minds.

It was around an All Fours table at the Best household in Tunapuna in the early 1980s, we first traded grins, with Jack in hand and few trumps left to deliver. “Your turn, Dr Rohlehr,” when he stopped paying attention and pretended to peek at Robert’s amateurishly positioned hand.

All man jack, to the extent it was biologically possible, was trying with beards. The facial hair on the oldest guy at the table was not yet fully grey but hung impressively from a strong chin, converging nervously with a moustache with which we were certain its host was born.

And when he laughed, from the top of his silver coated head to the lowest points of his goatee motioned for everyone else to join in till we belly buss.

Then when the fun ended, we would ask questions we did not fully understand, and he would respond in a way that made us both understand what we really meant and what we needed to know to help us find the answers.

There were questions about history – the discipline my late mother-in-law, Marianne Ramesar, and Prof. Bridget Brereton insisted remained Prof. Rohlehr’s true calling. But also, about music, art, cricket, football, and the right time to pick a julie mango for ripening, the Best trees as bountiful as they were.

And politics? Oh yes, there were numerous polite and impolite perspectives. He could steups with the best of them and lower his head while peering above Coke bottle glasses as if to charge like a raging bull. Then, in an instant, a broad toothy grin to soothe any lingering pain. He was the man with a heart of gold.

One time, I was on my fourth collection of poems and needed honest feedback. The other giant, Ken Ramchand (who has said he shared the same metaphorical cricket pitch with Gordon Rohlehr and would now miss the batsman on the other end), had looked at previous sets. I wanted to try the other batsman.

I chose ‘Lost in the City’ as the title. Dr Rohlehr described the collection as having marked a transition from “the playfulness and elation of … earlier work” to “a concern for the city, a sense of change and a nostalgia for dying lifestyles.”

“Dying lifestyles.” I subsequently noted similar observations about changing calypso messages, and the texture of the music. I had not heard him post-2019 on the subject, especially as performance spaces both contracted and expanded all at once. His vast personal collection would have taken him through unscathed.

He met Celia at the supermarket and broke COVID distancing rules. For sure, he would have also extended his long fingers toward me had I been there.

Not long before, Krisson Joseph had met us all on Zoom in 2020 from a backyard set with ‘Survival: Remembering Resilience’ and, as recently as last Saturday at Little Carib with ‘Revel in the Ritual’ – he reprised songs Prof. Rohlehr most likely knew by heart.

Then, on Sunday at NAPA, David Bereaux was delivering memories of the kind Prof. would have stretched back on his seat, extended his long legs and sandalled feet, and mouthed the lyrics as if he had very recently come across them in a pleasant dream.

The NAPA show had dragged on too long, as is our irritating wont at this time of year. We were all tired. But Carol Addison charmed, and Bereaux brought us back. We reminisced and laughed on our way back home.

Then, just as we arrived came the news that a light shining from the east had been extinguished.

 

 

Liberating state information

There are at least three recent developments in T&T that have highlighted both our “culture of secrecy” and the impact of our freedom of information legislation.

I have selected just a few scenarios to highlight today, because they focus on actions initiated by three different players - a political activist, the media, and a regular citizen – all acting on their own behalf but with results that have positive implications for the rest of society.

Though mainly well-placed campaigners and a generally tenacious media are among the more frequent users of our Freedom of Information Act (FOIA), the intervention of Nadia Singh, mother of SEA top achiever, Anushka Singh, caught my attention.

This is so since I believe that while advocacy has routinely been left to media operatives and social and political activists, their main benefits are meant to assist regular folks in the conduct of their daily lives.

The other recent development we should not allow to pass unnoticed is GML journalist, Kejan Haynes’, exposé on unpaid fines associated with pandemic mask mandates between September 2020 and July 2022.

In the case of Kejan’s story, the FOI request was directed to the judiciary. Ms Singh’s application was made to the ministry of education. The third instance involved the police service and had to reach the High Court.

Perennial FOIA applicant, Ravi Balgobin Maharaj, had successfully challenged the refusal of the Office of the Commissioner of Police to publish mandatory FOI statements. The court made it clear that its failure to do so was in breach of a statutory requirement.

These examples are with respect to three public institutions that are provably problematic at different levels and for different reasons. But they are all significant custodians of official information.

There are, of course, other spectacular instances of the FOIA being put to use by people with a concern about transparency issues related to matters of public interest. I apologise for some significant omissions.

There is also frequently an international dynamic at play. For instance, non-disclosure agreements (NDAs) for the purchase of COVID-19 vaccines captured the attention of Transparency International when it studied 182 vaccine procurement contracts back in 2021.

In only 13 cases were such contracts publicly available, but heavily redacted on account of NDAs. There is a lot of room here for international collaboration on examining this phenomenon. Contrary to political messaging on the subject here, T&T was not the only country victimised by this practice.

Two organisations with which I am associated – the Media Institute of the Caribbean (MIC) and the Association of Caribbean MediaWorkers (ACM) – have invested considerable time and other resources over the years to get Caribbean legislators to work more seriously on bringing enlightened access to information laws to the parliamentary table.

The MIC recently launched two important resources to assist media, activists, and citizens interested in this field of endeavour. The first is a Freedom of Information Help Desk, which is a cloud-based, secure platform for journalists, civil society organisations, and private individuals seeking assistance with requests under their respective FOI/Access to Information laws.

The second is an advocacy toolkit that provides detailed guidance on both the strengthening of existing law and practices, and the enactment of legislation where it currently does not exist.

A slender majority of Caricom countries now have such legislation, and there is a clear need to have them fortified through application of a principle described under Article 13 of the American Convention as “the principle of maximum disclosure.”

In fact, while Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, Special Rapporteur for Freedom of Expression, Pedro Vaca, spoke at an MIC forum with Caribbean journalists on Monday, he specified conditions that needed to apply in order to satisfy such an aspiration.

There is insufficient space to discuss all of them here, but among the things he addressed was the acceptability of limitations inserted into the law or applied as official procedure. In T&T, legislators have gratuitously toyed with the concept in measures of knee-jerk prohibition.

The question of private entities involved in activities in which there are public interest concerns also arises. Our FOIA needs to more firmly address this. It extends beyond the requirements of corporate and commercial law.

There are sufficient examples of how our FOIA can work better on our behalf. There is evidence that people are more prepared now to use it when the need arises. This is a good thing. Anuska Singh’s will be among the names to be called if or when we eventually get this right.

 

Children need to be in school

Among the areas of unfinished national business mentioned in this space last week was our determined unwillingness to meet several commitments boastfully declared over the years as favoured obligations under international convention.

We do not stand alone on this question and need not feel solely targeted by the contention that global standards for the conduct of states are routinely ignored and therefore undermined with impunity almost everywhere. But that’s of little comfort and no excuse for our own recalcitrance.

We can look near and far for tragic examples. The abuse of power. Institutionalised hypocrisy on issues of ethnicity, gender, age, nationality, and other values that embrace diversity.

Almost all of this has, at various times, found expression through the numerous treaties we have endorsed and held high for the media cameras, and before other countries. In our case, there are scores of them.

What is disturbing is that as historically chronic subjects of breaches, countries such as ours refuse to pay closer attention to the things that distinguish orderly human conduct from the acts of savages.

So, here I return to the conscious and active denial of the rights of migrant children to an education in T&T.

There is nothing to convince me that there is a firm commitment to meet such an obligation under the International Convention on the Rights of the Child, other global instruments, and perhaps our own constitution and law.

What might have led to this pathetic pass is subject to deeper analysis. But among the reasons is the absence of any persistent body of mass public opinion or mobilisation on the subject. Not one tyre has burned for this.

As mere elections machines, the political parties do not focus on human rights, and our education system does not consider questions of human rights to be central to all areas of development.

This is thus not simply a matter of (party) political will, but of the absence of active civic engagement in such subjects. Be careful, this is not to devalue the work of NGOs and CSOs that conduct ameliorative work to correct transgressions. They have key post facto roles to play. It is also not to ignore other undeniable failures in the treatment of all children.

But, in few instances can we find determined application of rights as prescribed by convention and, in even their absence, instinctual resort to notions of social justice.

The “close de borders” and “send dem back” crowds of 2019 and 2020 cannot now claim moral space on the issue of educating migrant children without official barriers.

If you approved of steel-tipped boots against the advancing bows of small migrant boats in stormy weather with men, women, and children on board, there is nothing you can say or do to convince me that you are now serious about providing the means to meet the needs of such children. Get lost!

Likewise, it was good that special, ad hoc arrangements were made in 2019 to accommodate migrants who were already here and to slow the pace of inflows – however much some of it was not in compliance with accepted global protocols.

The UNHCR’s direction on this was largely ignored and angrily dismissed. But there was clearly very little thought by all concerned about the challenges of a process to eventually settle people – either here or in other destinations. Consequently, the current ad hoc system strips humans of their self-respect and dignity.

As both historical subjects and objects of migration, we should know better. But we clearly don’t.

It is not enough to cite the numbers in the PR without advocating an understanding of the meaning behind the statistics. There are children in T&T, as 2023 approaches, who, unless private arrangements are made, will not receive a formal education.

There are babies becoming toddlers, and toddlers becoming pre-teens, and pre-teens becoming teenagers who are being systematically and actively deprived of the means to transition from one stage of personal development to the next. If there is a single major feature of social dysfunctionality among the youth it is the absence of a wholesome education.

It is also my understanding that the means to achieve the key objectives exist and that space, personnel, and other resources are available. If they are not, we should be made aware of the audits and studies which determined otherwise over the three-plus years we have had to consider all this.

Meanwhile, don’t come to us with “season’s greetings” until that’s a part of the message of goodwill to all men, women, and children in and of T&T. Let’s start 2023 on different terms please.

(Published in T&T Guardian on December 28, 2022)

Pan Beatings

Stick around pan long enough - in all its manifestations as a musical instrument and agent of social mobilisation and change - and you eventually realise that any “beating” experienced will come from its own hands.

For example, one of my most embarrassing panyard moments came when my pan instructor delivered a public boof on me for knocking the skirt of a double second with the wooden end of a pan stick, in order to rein in fellow student chatter.

“If that was a piano, you would bang on it like that?” she asked. That cut deep, as someone who has advocated vociferously against the use of “beat” to describe the “playing” of this instrument.

So, though I had witnessed such a violation over the years, and had felt bad about it, as a pan playing newbie it was important that I internalised the lesson and displayed respect and appreciation for the instrument to which I routinely assign glorious accolades.

Certainly, I have never been a domestic disaster tourist daring to brave otherwise prohibited turf once a year and then to pronounce authoritatively on its egalitarian impacts.

It has long been clear to me that the instrument, together with the social movement that keeps it alive and valuable, has consistently delivered “beatings” of its own on cynics, sceptics, and the ignorant who have attempted to diminish its value as the single greatest thing we do as a country.

Be clear, when Merchant sang Pan in Danger in 1985 it was meant to be a rallying call to recognise its value as a national asset and not something marginal to the development effort.

His message was sadly adopted as a double-edged sword to simultaneously signal some kind of decline … which never came … and to trigger jingoistic protectionism.

But Merchant was in fact administering licks on politicians and others, including the pan leadership, for not recognising the vast potential of something that had much wider meaning for T&T society.

It was also not an appeal to “patriotic” passions to achieve pan exclusivity. For, even then, as the song concedes, pan playing and innovation had already leapt an invitingly low fence and gone their merry way to the UK and elsewhere. Such sharing suggests no loss by the sharer.

Pan beatings on fascist emotions over pan have since come fast and furious. Everybody, everywhere now knows and uses the appropriate size of the rubber on a pan stick.

Though we remain the place where you find the best players playing the best songs guided by the best arrangers on the best pans, tuned by the best tuners in the world, the steelpan is now a global musical, social, and economic asset benefiting players, audiences, and musical landscapes far and wide.

This is not to say that we should continue missing valuable intellectual property opportunities when it comes to some aspects of pan innovation, music, musical arrangements, design, and other attributes.

Because of pan, one can argue that we are the country with the most people per capita who can play a musical instrument beyond the rudiments of classroom introduction. There is no cause to be insecure about it.

All the while, though, and because music (as with all art) is about taste and aesthetic preference, there will always be those who just do not like it. That’s fair enough. But pan is clearly more than the music it delivers.

There is also the set who, even as they linger restlessly on the periphery of the instrument and all it means, gratuitously and routinely attempt to drag pan into their dark, grimy, tribal spaces.

Last weekend’s Small Bands Panorama Finals put a sound beating on all of them. Small bands from small communities with big sounds lashed hard. Young people were also there to belie a lack of generational enthusiasm.

Even when the players and followers grow to become paying patrons and supporters, there is this nonsense about young people not being interested in pan.

Reducing “support for pan” to occupied seats at a competitive venue betrays a complete lack of understanding of what pan means to us.

The steelpan “saved” many of us at the height of pandemic lockdowns, beating both pessimism and the ridiculous notion of mere seasonal relevance.

This year’s Panorama contests are also witnessing a generational transition in the area of musical arrangement. This is not solely because of organised events; it is happening because pan is not in danger.

The success of pan is not contingent on the quantum of state largesse – however desirable it might be as a supportive mechanism resulting from official edict or proclamation.

There is a lot of work to be done by all concerned – Pan Trinbago being but one of many stakeholders. But pan will not be beaten. It delivers licks of its own. Bun dem!

 

 

The changing world of work

Since its release last week, nobody here has raced to the press to declare enthusiastic interest in the ILO’s latest study on “work-life balance around the world.”

This confirms the view that our leaders in the fields of politics, labour, and business are yet to come to terms with some of the lessons learned through the ongoing pandemic.

Labour unions, whose raison d’etre is rooted in the interests of workers, are among the most negligent of the social actors. Their withdrawal from organised tripartite dialogue in T&T and tragic inability to come to terms with emerging realities sadden many of us.

The ILO report promotes the idea that some of the measures to cope with the disruptions of the pandemic - including but not limited to “telework” - have long-term positive implications for the well-being of most workers.

“Reduced working hours and more flexible working time arrangements, such as those used during the COVID-19 crisis, can benefit economies, enterprises and workers, and lay the ground for a better and more healthy work-life balance,” the ILO says.

The report also speaks to the appropriate and valuable employment of “digitally-enabled” workplaces – once properly applied to regulate time spent on the job.

Those of us who work in the virtual space can attest to the fact that online assignments are not inhibited by workplace commutes and other barriers that are inconvenient even as they help regulate actual time on the job.

The fact is work-from-home regimes can promote increased productivity while creating time for leisure, family, and other interests that lead to a better quality of life. But it can also, if improperly managed, greatly increase time spent “on the job” at the expense of the quality time needed to achieve emotional and physical balance.

Nuanced discussions on such matters ought to be led by our unions and others with an interest in the well-being of workers. But I have heard nothing to suggest any organised interest in such matters, even prior to this interesting ILO report.

This space has repeatedly been used to harp on the excellent opportunities presented by digital technologies and platforms for their deployment. The benefits extend to all stakeholders – from clients to an enabling workforce. The creation of an entire ministry to promote and to pursue the possibilities in the public sector is however yet to make an impression.

To be fair, the benefits of mechanisation have, indeed, profitably pushed industry and manufacturing in the direction of digital possibility and action. But I am yet to see its more wholesome embrace by other business, financial, and commercial sectors – some of which continue to erect digital facades to mask fully manual back-end processes. So many still want a “piece of paper” in their hands – banks, insurance companies, retailers … almost everybody.

It is even worse when it comes to government transactions. We all have our own horror stories. I refuse to hold my breath in anticipation of meaningful change. The digital embrace and its accompanying implications for the world of work in the public sector are not anywhere on the immediate horizon.

The ability to download and manually complete a form does not comprise a “transformation” of any reasonable substance. Change, you see, has the potential to undermine power structures and avenues for wrongdoing.

Where sensible adjustments have been made, they confront the countervailing passion for long lines and delays at public offices.

What, for instance, got in the heads of those who thought online appointments at the Licensing Office could have been withdrawn? The very fact that this had been contemplated tells the story. True, the decision was withdrawn, but think about the mindset that led us in that direction in the first place!

The ILO is meanwhile particularly instructive on the question of “working-time arrangements” including shift work, on-call work, compressed hours and hours-averaging schemes – much of which are anathema to bosses craving shoulders over which to peer.

The report however cautions that “the benefits of some of these flexible arrangements, such as better family life, may be accompanied by costs including greater gender imbalances and health risks.”

So, all of this requires a national conversation and negotiation involving all the social actors including, in my view, people who work but are not aligned to organised labour. It cannot be left to unthinking dismissal by politicians, solely profit-led businesspeople, or unenlightened trade unionists living in the distant past.

A new world of work is unfolding before our very eyes in many places. It’s within our reach. The pandemic, at its deadly peak, provided pathways to the possible. We haven’t embraced them.