Whether it was inspired by the spirit of Diwali, as Trinidad and Tobago Finance Minister Winston Dookeran has facetiously speculated, or by the spirit of Halloween, as at least one blogger has unkindly remarked, former T&T prime minister Patrick Manning’s public apology to the nation has served to divide opinion there as to whether it was sincere or a calculated move with a hidden agenda.
On the one hand, Mr Manning, defeated at the May 24, 2010 general election and forced to resign as leader of the People’s National Movement (PNM) by enraged party members, still has his supporters and many people have welcomed his apology as the gesture of a “big man.” Indeed, some believe that he still has a contribution to make while some even maintain he has nothing to apologise for.
On the other hand, in a country and a region grown cynical to the actions and motives of politicians, where the higher meaning of public service has been undermined by self-serving ambitions and self-righteousness, there is also a strong view that Mr Manning is engaged in another exercise in sophistry, if not outright deception, with the ulterior motive of becoming PNM leader again.
Consequently, Mr Manning’s statement two Thursdays ago is being deconstructed by the media and analysts in T&T to decipher its real meaning, with the main criticism being that the apology appears to be couched in generalities without specific reference to the controversies surrounding his government, that led to the overwhelming electoral defeat.
The key words in the apology appear to be: “I think it is time for me to apologise [to] those who feel or who would have felt disenfranchised by any action I would have taken over the years as prime minister or in any other capacity. I wish to humbly apologise to all of them and to say to the people of Trinidad and Tobago, I am sorry.”
Newsday, in an editorial on November 1, dismisses the apology as “bizarre” and “surreal” and questions the reference to disenfranchisement when all were free to vote. The editorial also pointedly states, “It is difficult to accept, on face value, that this might have been a sincere attempt on his part to clear his conscience. We say this because he explicitly avoided any mention of the wrong developmental decisions, the corruption which dogged his administration (and which he tried to defend stoutly), or the violent crime which flourished, and which he tended to excuse rather than condemn.”
Tony Fraser, the respected Guardian columnist, holds the apology up against Mr Manning’s arrogance in office and concludes that, there is no admission of “being wrong about anything” in his statement, least of all in the throwaway line, “It is not possible for any leader to conduct the affairs of any country, and for such a long time, without the decisions that he makes… not adversely affecting some people.” Indeed, this smacks of self-justification more than anything else.
Michael Harris, the Tapia House political commentator, writing in the Express, has no doubt that Mr Manning is “up to what he has always been up to – playing the political game” and is actually positioning himself to take advantage of the inability of the current PNM leader, Dr Keith Rowley, to rebuild the party and regain wider popular support, in order to pounce at the right moment to return to the helm of the PNM, notwithstanding his declared support for Dr Rowley and his apparent intention to step down from active politics at the end of the current parliamentary term.
Mr Harris appears, moreover, to view Mr Manning’s apology as an act of supreme political cynicism, arguing: “…it does not matter whether one believes that Mr Manning is sincere or not. What matters is that it was said and that it was Mr Manning who said it. The time may come when the question will be asked, ‘which amongst you had the humility to apologise to the country for what you did to us?’ And now only Mr Manning would be able to respond, ‘I did.’” In this respect, he believes that “the battle for the PNM is now joined in earnest.”
It would seem that the only way for Mr Manning to prove his sincerity – and his record is too chequered for him not to have to do so – is to resign as a Member of Parliament and walk away from politics forever, as a genuine act of contrition. The best leaders know when it is time to let go. Otherwise, they risk condemning themselves to being distractions, if not irritants, on the crowded and complex political canvas.
