Dear Editor,
Stabroek News and Kaieteur News were delivered every day. They were neither touched nor read. I had decided that between Ash Wednesday and Easter Monday, I would not read a single word. I didn’t. And during this time in the wilderness some learning came.
My head cleared (had gotten too close too long to the environment); my expectations were recalibrated (trust princes more slowly, more cautiously); my priorities and interests rethought (whether to write of the diaspora experience and Wall Street, or more of the local). The last development remains under review.
Other things became clearer, including that voting one time in this country is enough; that the day is different, but local competing political interests and realities are near indistinct; that another surrounding largely self-seeking cast of characters has surfaced in replacement. I observe ‒ and others were quick to enlighten ‒ that it still is damn the poor, to hell with ethics, and down with the idealism of patriotism. In sum: Am here to collect. Just give me what is mine. Such is the sacrifice of the brave. What Abba Eban said in the Middle East applies right here. As the man said, it is where the dominant impulse is to “never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.”
Additionally, it is that commercial presences are the quadrennial biggest beneficiaries of electoral results, come who may. They are characteristically and historically astute enough and flexible enough to adjust the political dance floor to suit their gait and shuffle. They will dance with any partner in colourblind embrace. There is the peculiar romance of these gentlemen who prefer green (as in the seductive slither of money in their favor). That was one reality confirmed. These players know how to get by, to survive.
In contrast, it is the poor, the limited, the empty-handed, and the denied street mass (and only them) who manifest an unchanging and undying emotional and tribal allegiance to what hurts them, and hurts them badly. The blocs like where they are, and that is that. These citizens only know how not to move ahead. I am reminded of John F Kennedy’s 1961 address to the UN – to paraphrase: we must put an end to hard divisions and soft conflicts, or both will put an end to us.
Further, it is clear that the respective major voting blocs have scant interest (arguably zero interest) in truly transformational leadership. And having been settled immovably for that non-mandate, the divisions and distresses persist. To be sure, there is a minority, insubstantial and inconsequential, that hopes, sometimes invests, in such transformation at all levels. At best, they might amount to a mere 1% of the voting populace, if not way less. Those are terrible, near insurmountable odds to overcome. Like the famed and fated 300 at Thermopylae, they are a foregone conclusion: overwhelmed by numbers and circumstances into oblivion.
The summons to leadership is not about change, but the prioritization of waiting calculating replacement personnel.
Separately, I am an optimist, and accepting of increments of evolving change, when such is forthcoming. On the other hand, I am enough of a fundamentalist (perhaps a radical one, too) to peer across the national spectrum of rulers and ruled, winners and losers, highflyers and bottom feeders, and conclude that this whole caboodle stinks, and that it is anathema. But, against all rhyme and reason, this realpolitik is found attractive and acceptable, if not progressive.
As all of this is pondered, Shakespeare comes rushing to mind: “Now ʼtis spring, and its weeds are shallow-rooted. Suffer them now and they’ll o’erpower the garden.”
Last, for those needing a change of pace, or a long moment of reflection to renew perspectives, I recommend a similar sabbatical.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
