Tarnished legacy

Basdeo Panday reads books, and these words of William Shakespeare may now be running constantly through his mind. If so, the Bard’s message is all the more bitter because it was the erstwhile Silver Fox who filched his good name from himself. Indeed, in that very label may be found the hubris which led to Mr Panday’s downfall: the name of a popular kung fu movie character who beat his foes with cunning martial arts stunts.

For 40 years, Mr Panday built himself up as the leader of opposition politics and Indo Trinidad. His acerbic wit, his charisma, and his political skills earned him admiration and condemnation in equal parts, often from the same people. He was the kind of man who achieved success without losing the common touch. And, although it took three decades, he finally won the highest office in the land.

Then matters began to unravel. In Shakespeare’s tragedies, the chief protagonist is always brought low by some inherent flaw: Othello’s jealousy, Lear’s egoism, Macbeth’s ambition. And Basdeo Panday’s demons also got the better of him. As if possessed by the political persona he had so long cultivated, Mr Panday conducted his Prime Ministerial tenure in perpetual battle mode. “No one shall criticise my government and escape unscathed,” he famously declared. But it was Mr Panday who was always on the attack. He saw enemies on every side, hitting out at all institutions and eminent citizens who crossed him. Worst of all — and this was perhaps his most signal failing — he did not appear to appreciate how much the populace, including those not of Indian descent, wanted him to succeed.

But he did not succeed. The United National Congress left office having battered and undermined the nation’s institutions. Some of that battering was well-deserved, but the Panday administration failed to bring about positive change. Thus did the UNC return to Opposition saddled with the corruption allegations that, now, have culminated in the guilty verdict against the party’s leader.

So Mr Panday has been removed as Opposition Leader and cannot function as a Member of Parliament. On Monday night, he announced through his daughter, Mikela, — in words that painted a picture of a Christ-like figure on his way from Gethsemane to crucifixion — his resignation as UNC chairman. Perhaps he did not do so himself because of health reasons. But the tired lion may well not have wanted to face the strident calls for him to remain which would surely have come from the crowd — calls which are already assuming the tenor of pathetic hysteria from the Pandayites who control the party’s executive.

But Mr Panday is far wiser than they. His talk about moving on to a “higher politics” is meaningless. He knows that road is closed to him. It is an ignominious end to a colourful career, and the society is the worse off for it: worse off that a former Prime Minister should have come to this pass; worse off that Mr Panday cannot in the twilight of his career impart his political wisdom to those coming after; and worse off that an ethnic hero should have so disappointed the thousands who placed on him their dreams, hopes, and aspirations.

Mr Panday must know all this. And perhaps history will paint a kinder picture of him than he now believes possible. Perhaps his supporters will persuade him to return to active politics. But, in our view, his best option now is to ponder on how to polish the tarnished legacy he has left to the politics of Trinidad and Tobago.