Is The West Indies West Indian? (Part 3)

By Sir Shridath Ramphal

There is another major respect in which the West Indies, in not being West Indian in the Marryshow manner, is not being true to itself.   We are failing to fulfill the promise we once held out of being a light in the darkness of the developing world.  Small as we are, our regionalism, our West Indian synonymy, inspired many in the South who also aspired to strength through unity.   Solidarity has been lost not only amongst ourselves, but also collectively with the developing world.

And, perhaps, therein lies the ‘rub’.  Were we making a reality of our own regional unity we would not be false to ourselves and we would have inspired others who, in the past, had looked to us as a beacon of a worthy future.   Instead, we are losing our way both at home and abroad.

Have we forgotten the days when as West Indians we were the first to daringly bring the ‘Non-Aligned Movement’ to the Western Hemisphere, when we pioneered rejection of the ‘two China’ policy at the United Nations and recognized the People’s Republic; when, together, we broke the Western diplomatic embargo of Cuba; when we forced withdrawal of the Kissinger plan for a ‘Community of the Western Hemisphere’; when we were in the front rank (both intellectual and diplomatic) of the effort for a New International Economic Order; when from this region, bending iron wills, we gave leadership in the struggle against ‘apartheid’ in Southern Africa; when we inspired the creation of the ACP and kept the fallacy of ‘reciprocity’ in trade at bay for 25 years; when we forced grudging acceptance in the United Nations and in the Commonwealth that ‘small states’ required special and differential treatment?   In all this, and more, for all our size we stood tall; we commanded respect, if not always endearment.   We were West Indians being West Indian.

For what do we stand today, united and respected as one West Indies?   We break ranks among ourselves (Grenada, I acknowledge, no longer) so that some can bask in Japanese favour for helping to exterminate endangered species of the world’s whales.   We eviscerate any common foreign policy in CARICOM when some of us cohabit with Taiwan.   Deserting our African and Pacific partners, we yield to Europe -- and take pride in being first to roll over.

What do these inglorious lapses do for our honor and standing in the world?   How do they square with our earlier record of small states standing for principles that commanded respect and buttressed self-esteem?   The answers are all negative.   And, inevitably, what they do in due measure is require us to disown each other and display our discordance to the world.   This is where ‘local control’ has led us in the 21st Century.   We call it now ‘sovereignty’.   In reality, it is sovereignty we deploy principally against each other; because against most others that sovereignty is a hollow vessel.

It is easy, perhaps natural, for us as West Indian people to shift blame to our governments; and governments, of course, are not blameless.   But, in our democracies, governments do what we allow them to do: they themselves say: ‘we are doing what our people want us to do’.   It is not always true; but who can deny it, when we accept their excesses with equanimity, certainly in silence.

No!   There is fault within us also.   We have each been touched with the glow of ‘local control’; each moved by the siren song of ‘sovereignty’; have each allowed the stigma of otherness, even foreignness, to degrade our West Indian kinship.   The fault lies not only in our political stars but also in ourselves that we are what and where we are; and what and where we will be in a global society that demands of us the very best we can be.   When the West Indies is not West Indian, it is we, at least in part, who let it be so.   And what irony: Marryshow and his peers demanded that we be West Indian to be free together.   We were; but in our freedom we are ceasing to be West Indian and in the process are foregoing the strengths that togetherness brings.

When are we at our best?   Surely, when the West Indies is West Indian; when we are as one; with one identity; acting with the strength and courage that oneness gives us.   Does anyone doubt that whatever we undertake, we do it better when we do it together?

Thirty-five years ago, in 1975, on the shores of Montego Bay, as I took leave of Caribbean leaders before assuming new roles at the Commonwealth, my parting message was a plea TO CARE FOR CARICOM. Among the things I said then was this:

Each generation of West Indians has an obligation to advance the process of regional development and the evolution of an ethos of unity.   Ours is endeavoring to do so; but we shall fail utterly if we ignore these fundamental attributes of our West Indian condition and, assuming without warrant the inevitability of our oneness, become casual, neglectful, indifferent or undisciplined in sustaining that process and that evolution.

The burden of my message is that we have become ‘casual, neglectful, indifferent and undisciplined’ in sustaining and advancing Caribbean integration: that we have failed to ensure that the West indies is West Indian, and are falling into a state of disunity, which by now we should have made unnatural.   The process will occasion a slow and gradual descent – from which a passing wind may offer occasional respite; but, ineluctably, it will produce an ending.

In Derek Walcott’s recently published collection of poems, White Egrets-- for which he has just won the prestigious T.S. Elliot Prize -- there are some lines which conjure up that image of slow passing:

With the leisure of a leaf falling in the forest,
Pale yellow spinning against green – my ending.

This must not be a regional epitaph.   But, if CARICOM is not to end like a leaf falling in the forest, prevailing apathy and unconcern must cease; reversal from unity must end. The old cult of ‘local control’ must not extinguish hope of regional rescue through collective effort; must not allow a narcissist insularity to deny us larger vision and ennobling roles.   We must escape the mental prison of narrow domestic walls and build a West Indies that is West Indian. We must cherish our local identities; but they must enrich the mosaic of regionalism, not withhold from it their separate splendours.

In some ways, it must be allowed; our integration slippage is less evident among the smallest of us.   The OECS islands have set out a course for more ambitious and deeper economic integration among themselves, which would be worthy of all, if it could subsist for all.   The Treaty establishing the OECS Economic Union is now in force.   But, it is early days; it remains to be seen at the level of action, at the level of implementation, whether, even for them, the earlier ‘agony’ (of which Sir Arthur Lewis wrote so ruefully in 1962) lingers still.   Meanwhile, however, congratulations are in order, and I extend them heartily.

In moving closer to ‘freedom of movement’ among the OECS countries they have set a vital example to the rest of CARICOM.   The OECS West Indies is being West Indian.   May it translate into an ethos among them, and in time infuse the wider Community with an end to ‘foreignness’ among all West Indians.   The OECS islands have taken the first steps in a long journey whose ultimate goal must be a larger union.

Collectively, we must recover our resolve to survive as one West Indies -- as one people, one region, one whole region. Imbued by such resolve there is a future that can be better than the best we have ever had.   Neither complacency nor resignation nor empty words will suffice.   What we need is rescue – by ourselves, from ourselves and for ourselves. We cannot be careless with our oneness, which is our lifeline.   As it was in St Georges in 1915, so it is now: The West Indies must be Westindian!

The foregoing is an extract from the Eleventh Sir Archibald Nedd Memorial Lecture delivered by Sir Shridath Ramphal in Grenada on 28 January 2011.

February 10, 2011

Is The West Indies West Indian? (Part 1)

Is The West Indies West Indian? (Part 2)

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Careless with CARICOM - Part 1

Sir Shridath Ramphal:


As ‘West Indians’, as ‘Caribbean people’, we face a basic contradiction of oneness and otherness, a basic paradox of kinship and alienation. Much of our history is the interplay of these contrarieties. But they are not of equal weight. The very notion of being West Indian speaks of identity, of oneness. That identity is the product of centuries of living together and is itself a triumph over the divisive geography of an archipelago which speaks to otherness. Today, CARICOM and all it connotes, is the hallmark of that triumph, and it is well to remember the processes which forged it – lest we forget, and lose it.

Throughout history our geo-political region has known that it is a kinship in and around an enclosing Sea. But, through most of that time it suited local elites – from white planters, through successor merchant groups, to establishment colonials - to keep the Sea as a convenient boundary against encroachment on their ‘local control’. Political aspirants in our region jostled for their Governor’s ear, not each other’s arm.

Times changed in the nineteen twenties and thirties – between the ‘world wars’. The external economic and political environments changed; and the internal environments changed – social, political and most of all demographic. Local control began to pass to the hands of local creoles, mainly professionals, later trade unionists, and for a while the new political class saw value in a strategy of regional unity. Maryshaw’s slogan ‘the West Indies must be West Indian’ carried at the masthead of his crusading newspaper was evocative. For two generations, West Indian ‘unity’ was a progressive political credo.

It was a strategy that was to reach its apogee in the Federation of The West Indies: due to become Independent in mid-1962. It is often forgotten that the ‘the’ in the name of the new nation was consciously spelt with a capital ‘T’ – The West Indies - an insistence on the oneness of the federated region. But, by then, that was verbal insistence against a contrary reality, already re-emerging. The new political elites for whom ‘unity’ offered a pathway to political power through ‘independence’ had found by the 1960s that that pathway was opening up regardless.

Regional unity was no longer a pre-condition to ‘local control’. Hence, the referendum in Jamaica; and Trinidad’s arithmetic that ‘1’ from ‘10’ left ‘0’; even ‘the agony of the eight’. The century old impulse for ‘local control’ had prevailed, and the separatist instincts of a dividing sea had resumed ascendancy.

But, as in the nineteen twenties and thirties, so in the sixties and seventies – the environment changed against separatism. Independence on a separate basis had secured ‘local control’; but the old nemesis of colonialism was replaced by the new suzerainty of globalization. Independence, particularly for Caribbean micro states, was not enough to deliver Elysium. ‘Unity’ no sooner discarded was back in vogue; but less a matter of the heart than of the head.

In an interdependent world which in the name of liberalization made no distinctions between rich and poor, big and small, regional unity was compulsive. Caribbean states needed each other for survival; ‘unity’ was the only protective kit they could afford. Only three years after the rending ‘referendum’ came the first tentative steps to ‘unity’ in 1965 with CARIFTA; ‘tentative’, because the old obsession with ‘local control’ continued to trump oneness – certainly in Cabinet Rooms; but in drawing rooms too; though less so at street corners.

Despite the new external compulsions the pursuit of even economic unity, which publics largely accepted, has been a passage of attrition. It has taken us from 1965 to 2010 - 45 years – to crawl through CARIFTA and CARICOM, through the fractured promises of Chaguaramas and Grand Anse, and through innumerable Declarations and Affirmations and Commitments Not surprisingly, we have reached a moment of widespread public disbelief that our professed goal of a ‘Single Market and Economy’ will ever be attained.

In the acknowledged quest for survival, the old urge for ‘local control’ has not matured to provide real space for the ‘unity’ we say we need. Like 19th century colonists we still struggle to keep our rocks in our pockets – despite the enhanced logic of pooling our resources and the enlarged danger of ‘state capture’ by unelected groups and external forces if we do not.

In the 21st century, despite all we know in our minds of the brutality of the global environment and the need for collective action to survive it, the isolationist claims of ‘local control’ still smother the demands of unity of purpose and action. It is puzzling that it should be so; for we have assuredly made large gains in what ‘unity’ most demands – ‘identity’.

There may be exceptions; but does not every citizen of every CARICOM country regard himself or herself as a Caribbean person – not first and foremost, of course, but after his or her national ’ identity - a member of the society we call ‘West Indian’. There may be grouses, even anger, at not being treated ‘properly’ – especially at immigration counters – but that is because as ‘West Indians’ we expect to be treated better. Our anger hinges not on the absence of identity but on its assumed reality; on the conviction that our common identity is not a garb we wear outside but shed when we come home.

Just recently, we lost one of the Caribbean’s most illustrious sons – an ‘incandescent eagle’ I called him. The whole Caribbean mourned him. And West Indian diasporas – not just Jamaican – mourned Rex Nettleford as a Caribbean person. We groan together when West Indian cricket grovels; and jump together when it triumphs. What is all this but identity?

It is not an identity crisis that we face. We know we are a family. But our family values are less sturdy than they should be – those values that should move regional unity from rhetoric to reality; should make integration an intuitive process and the CSME a natural bonding. Until we live by these values so that all the family prospers, we degrade that identity.

We are also failing to fulfill the promise we once held out of being a light in the darkness of the developing world. Our regionalism inspired many in the South who also aspired to strength through unity. We have all but withdrawn from these roles, and in some areas like the EPA with Europe we have forsaken our brothers in the South.

Recently, the former President of Tanzania, Ben Mkapa, who was our brother in arms in the North-South arena, was warning Africa against the same EPA of which we have made Europe such a gift. We have lost solidarity not only with ourselves, but collectively with our brothers in the developing world.

And, perhaps, therein lies the ‘rub’. Were we making a reality of our own regional unity we would not be false to ourselves and to others who look to us for a vision of the future. Instead, we are losing our way both at home and abroad.

(Part 2 to follow)

(Sir Shridath has held the positions of Commonwealth Secretary-General, Chancellor of the University of the West Indies, Chairman of the West Indian Commission and Chief Negotiator in the Caribbean Regional Negotiating Machinery)

May 4, 2010

Careless with CARICOM - Part 2

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