The ethos of Pan

In Trinidad and Tobago, pan is not popular culture. It is high culture. And this is why pan music has lost its once wide audience. Every year, commentators on the Carnival arts regularly bewail the struggles of pan. “Why is steelband so much of an afterthought if, indeed, we think of it at all?” asks columnist Keith Smith, writing about the dearth of pan music on the radio. His tentative answer is that Afro-Trinidadians, the inventors of the steelpan, have “a deep distrust of whatever we have done, the problem more, well, problematic with respect to pan because here we are rejecting it even in the face of outside validation…”

Even if this is true — and I am not sure that it is — I do not consider it a good explanation for pan’s decline. In his column, Smith notes that “it was black people in the barrackyards who began this pan miracle,” but his unconscious assumption is that this proletarian origin inoculates pan from the infection of elitism. But after 1956, the Afro working-class was lent artificial status by political patronage: and so pan within two decades was transmuted into high culture of the Trini sort. That “of the Trini sort” is a necessary caveat. In all modern societies, culture can be conveniently divided into high and popular. High culture, whether its expression is visual, musical, or literary, has a particular profile: the form is viewed as inherently superior by its adherents; it appeals to a minority; its audience considers itself sophisticated; and it often requires funding from the State or wealthy philanthropists.

Steelband music fits at least three of these four criteria. The pan industry depends almost entirely on State and corporate funding. The extraordinary virtues of pan music are continually trumpeted by its adherents. Pan’s audience has dwindled steadily over the years, with the profile of those who now attend steelband concerts being mostly upper middle-class Afro-Trinidadians. Whether these persons consider themselves sophisticated I don’t know, but it is almost psychologically inevitable that they would at least see themselves as more sophisticated than the pan players they have come to hear. Which brings me to my caveat. In developed societies, high culture is patronised and practised almost exclusively by the society’s elites. But, in our society, pan is still mostly played by working-class Afro-Trinis. More to the point, though, ours is not a society with a true elite class — ie a group of people who have attained positions of influence through skill, talent and hard work (although we do of course have individuals who fit this definition). Indeed, the main reason pan continues to receive State and corporate funding is because, in spite of it being clearly a minority activity, it is still perceived as a grassroots affair.

However, the elements that made steelband a popular art form have long since vanished. The mythic metaphor of the steelpan — using industrial society’s waste product to make music — is a workable romance. But it is not why the steelpan became a popular icon. That status came, not from the steelpan, but from the steelband. The pan-player was a mere individual. The steelbands man, on the other hand, was a member of a group. And, human nature being what it is, once you have a group, that group has to find another group to fight with. This was the genesis of the infamous steelband clashes. But, paradoxical as it may seem, these clashes may actually have been a device for peace. You see, all societies have to invent conflict-resolution devices in order to survive. In small societies, these devices are intended to resolve the conflicts between individuals. This is why even hunter-gatherer bands have leaders.

In larger societies, conflict-resolution devices have to deal with conflicts between sub-groups, such as families or clans. This is why tribes have elders and shamans. In a society the size of a nation-state, courts and a police force are essential for conflict resolution.  But, in a colonial society such as Trinidad was back then, sub-groups often view courts and the police and other accoutrements of the State as oppressive or irrelevant (nor is this perception incorrect). In Trinidad in the early part of the 20th century, working-class blacks and Indians would have shared this opinion of the British and Afro-Saxon ruling class. In such a situation, the marginalised groups usually find informal ways to negotiate conflict.

So, although the steelband clashes were condemned by good society, it does not appear that deaths often resulted from these fights. It seems that there were informal rules which governed the conflict and prevented it from escalating beyond a certain point. The steelbands were thus a crucial element in evolving creole (not Indo) society. As the society developed, however, the steelband lost — or had taken away — its conflict-resolution function. Panorama was in fact organised to stop the steelband battles, and Panorama itself is now the ultimate Trini conflict-resolution device: a lime. I am also told by Carnival commentator Terry Joseph that Dr Eric Williams in the 1960s inveigled companies to give money to quell the growing signs of social unrest. The offer of corporate sponsorship would have been the first sign that the steelband had been incorporated by the bourgeoisie (sponsorship itself being a conflict-resolution device). The fact that pan players can now play with several different bands seals the argument. Pan’s decline was confirmed when it was declared the national instrument in the closing decade of the 20th century. Pan was no longer a popular art form, but a political tool.

Indeed, the very fact that there is so much commentary on pan attests to this. Anthropologist Roger Sandall, in his book The Culture Cult, notes: “When it is about to die the communal culture which has been unconsciously accepted as an all-embracing umwelt now becomes consciously dwelt on, theorised, idealised, mythicised, and may, in some cases, proceed swiftly from the pathos of decline to the bathos of Disneyfication.” (It is worth noting that Sandall’s assertion applies even more strongly to the polemics of Hindu commentators.) None of this is to say that pan should not be kept alive. But the argument for keeping it so cannot be that it represents some popular and all-encompassing ethos. That is simply no longer true.
E-mail: kbaldeosingh@hotmail.com.
Website: www.caribscape.com/baldeosingh