If only he could see us now ...

More than two decades after his death and about four prime ministers — all political accidents and some incipient or even patent political disasters — our late Prime Minister Dr Eric Williams now appears to occupy the spotlight and is again “good copy”, to use the journalistic lingo.

Now, I hope not to be either among he canonisation or demonisation crew, as I add my little two-cent bit, but it’s no fault of mine if Dr Williams was like the proverbial “curate’s egg” — good in parts. So here we go: The political contribution and personality of the late Prime Minister, Dr Eric Williams, will, I suppose, always be of interest to political analysts of every hue and description, according to their lights. Not a few assessments, I suspect, will arise from or be motivated by the author’s personal aspiration for some special or other advancement.

However, for an enigmatic and controversial figure, who so dominated our politics and our lives, for such an extended period, with such style, ?clat and ?lan, there must long be speculation (founded or unfounded) as to “what manner of man was this?” Such speculation is likely to cover a wide speculation spectrum, from unadulterated adulation to iconoclastic demystification and crude debunking — as has been the lot or charismatic leaders before. It’s not too much to hope that Williams will also attract the unbiased attention of informed, discerning scholarship.

If only from the perspective of acquiring insights into or understanding of some of the problems bequeathed, we need to at least attempt to come to grips with both the positive and negative aspects of Dr Williams’ intellectual and political legacy. Dr Williams made a meteoric entry into local and Caribbean politics with seemingly impeccable credentials. He was a distinguished Caribbean scholar of international standing and would have been remembered as such, whether or not he had entered the political arena. There appeared to be little doubt that he possessed great stamina, remarkable political acumen and instincts, a striking presence, personal magnetism and the “halo of martyrdom” — having been dismissed from the Caribbean Commission.

Added to that, he was a spellbinding orator with the ability to hold the rapt attention of public audiences while discussing serious topics — serving, what has been described, with some exaggeration, as “intellectual chicken and champagne”. Now, in retrospect, there appears to be an uneasy feeling that the image may have been far larger than the man and he may well have “flattered, only to deceive”. Even his confirmed detractors concede that, had he chosen, he could have brought his considerable gifts to bear on many a political and social problem. Perhaps he is too early and relatively easy success may have accounted for that.

Besides this, “What indeed,” I ask myself, “could have been the flaws of intellect and/or character which set the stage for the final, pathetic personal disintegration that was, at least, a contributing factor in the country’s aimless drift, from one unnecessary crisis to another, during the latter part of his administration?” Now while a prime minister can’t do everything, there is no reason to doubt that he can set the tone, style and climate of his administration. It remains, in my humble view, a sad commentary on, at least, Dr Williams’ judgment that he seemed not at all perturbed about being generally regarded as “the only paragon of virtue in a sea of corruption”. Corruption or as the politicians like to say “the perception of corruption” was the big stick that the NAR politicians used on the hustings to beat the daylights out of the then “punch drunk” PNM. Basdeo Panday made mas’ with the corruption issue or, as the politicians like to put it, “the allegations of corruption”. Now don’t laugh but we were assured by Panday that the money saved by eliminating corruption would probably be enough to solve most of our problems. Really?

A journalist who interviewed Dr Williams during or about the period of the Black Power turbulence claimed that he asked the Doc whether he was aware that there was the general perception out there that his administration was mired in corruption. Without batting an eye, Dr Williams’ reply was that, “a Prime Minister doesn’t know everything.” Now let me choose my words carefully here. The PNM had been launched on the platforms of “Political education, Nationhood and Morality in Public affairs”, so one couldn’t help being mystified somewhat at the pervasive perception that, in the latter tenure of office, corruption had not only flourished but had come of age and led a charmed existence. You think it easy? It may have simply been a case of “coming events casting their shadows”.

The term “white collar crime” was not yet in vogue but one understood (or rather suspected) that the country was being bled white by super-duper con-men and rip-off artists and the nation’s patrimony was being sold for less than the proverbial mess of pottage. We’ve never had a problem relocating “Ali Baba and his forty thieves” in time and place — whatever the current guise. Dr Williams died before he could “put things right”. George Chambers promised to “put things right,” presumably including the control of “the financial maggots, the feeding frenzy at the public troughs and the concept of the public purse as the proverbial milch cow”. On the horizon was a cleptocracy in the making, with the apparent motto: “How can I rob thee (the taxpayer)? Let me count the ways”. If only Dr Williams could see us now, especially taking in sessions of the Piarco airport terminal inquiry, he might well feel justified in recommending “a posthumous pardon” for the infamous John O’Halloran and an appropriate apology for his having appeared, in retrospect, to have been a mere pickpocket by today’s local political standards.