Dear Editor,
I wish to share a recent experience that shocked and saddened. It emphasizes some ugly truths about this society, and the depths to which it has descended. My experience did not involve government representatives or political figures. That might have made what occurred palatable, even acceptable, as certain conduct is to be expected. Here is a compressed version of what happened.
I approached a private group to arrange a routine business transaction for myself. I should say that some members of the group are public figures, and reputable Guyanese. There was nothing controversial or political about the transaction. As things go, it was absolutely legitimate, and more of a marketing effort than anything else. A one man Expo, if you will.
At first, everything proceeded according to plan. There was an exchange of costs, timing, and deliverables, and an understanding, if not tentative agreement. Then the whole thing collapsed in slow motion before my watchful eyes. There was this charade involving non-decision decisions, passing the buck, and delegation by escalation. Finally, there arrived the polite, syrupy equivalent of “No!” In civil rights terms – Not welcome. Not wanted.
Prior to the final decision, I had offered to meet in person, share material, and answer any questions. There were no takers. This was, in and of itself, a clear indication of the way the wind was blowing; the kimono furling at the edges.
Editor, there was one problem in all of this: It involved my name and what I have stood for publicly in this society. From the calculations of my counterparty-to-be I was radioactive, and to be kept at a safe distance. In other words – sorry, but go someplace else. Any other place, but not us; we have interests to protect.
Why? Why did a matter of the most routine nature come to this sorry pass? It is because fear makes people guarded; it prompts them to overcompensate against their better judgment and standing for what is honourable. Hence, no.
Again why? It is because great care must be taken to maintain government contacts and contracts; to look good in the eyes of the powerful; to go along to get along; to play it safe and avoid the hammer of potential retaliation. The rest will take care of itself, or by those into the business of truth and change and making a difference. This is where I found myself.
The most disturbing part of my encounter is that quite a few members of the group are numbered in so-called civil society. I think a more appropriate description would be polite – cowering society. I had been told this before and now I lived it: Too many have different public and private agendas that find them balancing disarrayed principles in perilous fashion; they have feet in separate boats. This aids and abets the obscenities that occur daily; it dissipates residual energies needed to make us better. All lose. And if this group is representative of the local pantheon of so-called civil society, then this country is doomed for the foreseeable future.
Now I venture to say the following to all of civil society out there: Guyana’s circumstances and struggles are not a cocktail hour exercise. It is not another intramural debate. Or a nice thing to do (like charity work), or a place to be seen. It is neither hat show nor golf outing. Rather, it is the life and death struggle of-and-for those who exist by the fingernails. Or what is left of them. It is about commitment and sacrifice and more to lift up this country and make it a livable place for all of its peoples. This society does not need any more false hopes; it already has enough Job’s comforters.
I say to these good people – stop the games, please. And stop looking for others to carry the torches of controversy, confrontation, and conscience. Of doing the heavy lifting and the dirty work, while the comfortable – and believed clever – play it safe. Show hand; take a stand; this is not about glamour and the believed splendour of own self-importance. More than anything else, it is about emancipation from the slavery of fear and the ignominy of cowardice.
I close by sharing the following: In the 1970s, the question before me was, is it worth living here? In 2012, the question before me now is: Is this place worth salvaging?
Now I must go. I feel more than sad and tired. I feel sick.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
