Imbert the class clown

Even as Prime Minister Patrick Manning cast himself in the role of stern headmaster, Health Minister Colm Imbert played the class clown. As Manning began his Budget 2004 presentation shortly after 2:00 pm yesterday, Imbert, grinning toothily, spent several minutes scribbling a note which he passed to Planning Minister Keith Rowley, who sat beside him. Rowley smiled tightly and shoo-shooed back to Imbert. Perhaps the absence of the Opposition MPs, whose Budget documents sat unperused in their 15 manila envelopes on the desks across, left the two Ministers with no better way to pass the time.

 Whether the UNC had got wind of the tenor of Manning’s address or not, their empty chairs added to the authoritarian tone of Manning’s preamble. “The population is being terrorised as the criminals have declared virtual war on this society,” he declared. “Accordingly, we now declare war on the criminals.” Manning promised that his administration would do everything “within the law” to make citizens safe and secure. All well and good so far, but then he followed this statement with the declaration that, although the Government recognised “demonstrations as a legitimate expression of dissent,” they would not tolerate any acts of civil disobedience “either from criminals or Members of Parliament.” Manning promised that the law against such would be enforced “rigidly and fearlessly” and that there would be new measures to strengthen the Riot Squad. To much desk-pounding, Manning then announced the elevation of Colonel Peter Joseph to the rank of Brigadier, so Joseph could head a Special Crime-Fighting Unit which would draw personnel from all the nation’s security forces. And a think-tank made up of former National Security Ministers — headed by Overand Padmore and including John Donaldson, Herbert Atwell and Joe Theodore — is to be formed. National Security Minister Howard Chin Lee, seated on the side with the other Senators, remained expressionless at these announcements.

In some contexts, such measures would be seen as typical of a prototype police state. But Manning’s characteristic affability made these announcements seem more like new school rules: except that Manning is not a school principal, but the Prime Minister. But the youths did come  into the Budget early: “It is also clear that some of our young people do not have a proper concept of right and wrong and are therefore in need of re-orientation,” said Manning. Apart from a public education programme to get them re-oriented, the Government planned to “encourage an expansion of the Cadet Corps, the Boy Scout Movement, the Girl Guides, Brownies, Boys Brigade and other similar organisations.” What form this encouragement would take was not specified. He also announced two “military-led” programmes: one for school drop-outs and one for youths who didn’t have a full CXC certificate. Having begun on such a dramatic note, Manning then lapsed into the drone typical of Budget presentations. He reviewed the Government’s performance of the past year, which of course had been wonderful, although he admitted that unemployment had increased and total debt increased. “We do not seek to deceive the population with our Budget presentation,” he said courageously, omitting to mention that, if he had tried, the figures from the Central Bank and Central Statistical Office would have shown him up. In any case, Manning blamed both these defects on the closure of Caroni (1975 ) Limited.

As he went on, talking about physical infrastructure and social programmes and reform of the trade sector, the PNM Ministers and the PNM Senators, while not actually falling asleep, settled into a sort of trance, occasionally stirring when their area came in for mention. Even the desk-thumping was delayed. Only Minister in the Finance Ministry Christine Sahadeo, elegant in a black pants suit, kept herself occupied by reading a document.  Imbert continued to be amused by his own notes and to amuse Rowley and, occasionally, his other neighbour, Social Affairs Minister Camille Robinson-Regis. But it was Speaker Barry Sinanan who was especially impressive: throughout Manning’s entire speech, he did not fidget and hardly let his eyes wander. In the media gallery, the more literate journalists were occasionally amused by certain words. Although Manning generally speaks properly, Undine Giuseppi would surely have been shocked by his mispronounciation of psyche (which he pronounced “sike”), deterrence (“det-eh-rence”), and parole (“pah-role”). But it was perhaps only in deference to wife Hazel that, in talking about the school feeding programme, he said “breakfast meals” instead of “breakfasts.” However, the only audible reactions came when Manning announced the steep increase in taxes on gaming devices: and even then Sinanan’s impassiveness caused Manning to remark, “This doesn’t affect you, Mr Speaker.” In his closing, Manning said, “We are moving relentlessly towards our goal of transforming Trinidad and Tobago into a developed nation by 2020.” No doubt he didn’t intend to make it sound like a threat but, given how he began, it might sound so to some, and it will surely sound so to MPs Manohar Ramsaran and Hamza Rafeeq.