The politics of subterfuge

Claude Clarke, Contributor

The barricades are up. The Tivoli militia has been mobilised. And Jamaica waits in fear of a conflagration, as the agents of the law attempt to enforce the order to arrest the don of the most powerful political garrison in our land - a man reputed to be the leader of the most notorious narcotics syndicate since Pablo Escobar.

Our prime minister has been trapped in the nine-month-long web of deception he had spun to conceal his efforts to prevent the extradition of that man, Christopher 'Dudus' Coke, and his credibility has been shattered. The delicate balance of trust between the Government and the people, which gives the Government the legitimacy to exercise power, has been severely strained; and the prime minister has retreated to the Central Executive of his party for validation.

How did it come to this? In order to ensure political success and effective governance, political parties, in most democracies, work to pull all elements of society and the economy together, giving each element the basis on which to believe that as government, the party can be trusted to respect its interests. But Jamaica seems to have overturned that principle.

Both our political parties would admit to the enormous electoral advantage they gain by maintaining the enclaves of political exclusion called garrisons. Garrisons guarantee the results of as many as 20 per cent of the constituencies before elections are even called. These 'can't win' or 'can't lose' constituencies in which the streets are controlled by one party have come to form the heart of our politics and have virtually usurped the right of the people to elect their government freely.

Many were heartened in the mid-1990s when the present prime minister, after acknowledging his previous association with garrison politics and calling out both the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) and the People's National Party (PNP) for their links to it, pledged himself to a crusade to destroy it.

sacrifice

The fact that it is the same Bruce Golding who recently declared that he would sacrifice himself to defend the don who controls his garrison constituency from extradition, raises the question: was his celebrated separation from the JLP in the mid-1990s really a declaration of his independence from garrison politics, or was it simply a strategy to achieve the ultimate political prize - becoming the prime minister of Jamaica?

No one could credibly claim that Mr Golding has lifted a single finger to distance himself from 'old-style politics' since becoming prime minister. Indeed, the prime minister's solid support of Dudus, and his role in the Manatt, Phelps & Phillips fiasco, certainly strain the credibility of any claim that he has been reformed.

On the other hand, the destabilising effect on the JLP caused by his departure, the fissure in the ranks of Labourites and the tension between the factions which resulted, greatly enhanced his chances of becoming the next JLP prime minister, if his return to the party could be engineered.

Unsettling the JLP to the point that it could not develop the critical electoral mass to win an election was one thing. But removing the deeply rooted Eddie Seaga from the leadership of the party was the real challenge.

Given Seaga's control of the JLP's muscle and Golding's born-again repudiation of political violence, this appeared an impossible task. What could, therefore, have made it possible for Seaga to be toppled from his perch atop the pinnacle of the JLP's principal garrison, believed to be the control centre of the party? Not since the shepherd boy David slew the giant warrior Goliath has there been a more improbable victory by an underdog. The supposedly disarmed Golding prevailed over the ballistic might of Seaga.

Was there a more sinister force operating on Golding's behalf while he played the role of dove? And was his political independence traded? Could Mr Golding's inability to act on the extradition request for the don of his constituency have been dictated by his obligations under a pact entered into at that time, rather than his stated commitment to human rights? Could the stand-off with the United States have been a necessary display of loyalty to satisfy his obligations under the pact and preserve his legitimacy in his garrison? What is beyond dispute is that in this battle to save Dudus, Mr Golding has left much of his political capital, along with Jamaica's blood, treasure and prestige on the ground.

There should have been no surprise that the prime minister's manoeuvres over last weekend would have ended with the apology we heard in his public broadcast on Monday night. It is unlikely that having invested as much as he did in his long quest to gain custody of the political spoils he earlier deplored Mr Golding would give them up after only two and a half years of enjoying the benefits.

Mr Golding has confessed to doing wrong. But the mantra of accountability and responsibility on which he mounted his electoral campaign required him to submit himself to the people's judgement. Mr Golding did not do that. Instead, he went to his party hard core in the form of its Central Executive for its self-serving verdict. Predictably, its verdict was to maintain the status quo and preserve its own political privilege and power.

While going to the people for a vote of confidence might have been politically suicidal for his party, the least Mr Golding was required to do was to withdraw as prime minister and allow his party to replace him with someone in whom the people could invest the faith he has so badly betrayed.

chose to rescue himself

Faced with the choice of rescuing his own political life with an apology, or saving his country and his party with his resignation, Mr Golding chose to rescue himself. As an astute politician, he should know that having breached the trust on which his ability to govern rests, he is now rendered a lame duck, a leader whom no one will follow.

For Jamaica to weather the current economic storm and for our people to accept the pain they have been asked to bear under the austerity of the International Monetary Fund (IMF), we will require credible leadership. The exposure of Mr Golding's untrustworthiness in the Dudus extradition and Manatt, Phelps & Phillips affairs has disqualified him from playing that role. In the country's interest, we should be looking for a new leader in whom the people can have confidence.

Such a leader should be fresh, trustworthy, of sound intellect, steady and committed to uplifting the social and economic circumstances of the people. This would not only create a new wave of hope and enthusiasm for national renewal among the electorate, it would boost the JLP's electoral appeal, as occurred for the PNP when P.J. Patterson succeeded Michael Manley, and when Portia Simpson Miller succeeded Patterson.

The prime minister could have salvaged some of his damaged reputation by honouring his promise to submit himself to the verdict of the people, a verdict they delivered with clarity in their overwhelming call for his resignation. But alas! As the prime minister evidenced in his Monday night broadcast, subterfuge will continue to be the way of politicians.

Claude Clarke is a former trade minister and manufacturer. Feedback may be sent to columns@gleanerjm.com.