As the calypsonian Chalkie once sang, "In this country, you've got to learn to laugh." That is especially so with all the hoopla and tra la la about the contents, interpretation and relevance of our republican Constitution. We still have a problem in deciphering what "a limited state of emergency" means and can only suppose that it means "a countrywide state of emergency" with the curfew limited to certain areas designated as "hot spots." Of course, we may well be wrong. But if you have a problem with distinguishing between "outdoors" and "indoors" you could have found yourself being transported, peremptorily, by some overeager officer to less than salubrious accommodation in less that genial company. As they say, "what is fun for school children is death for crapaud."
But we're used to tough times, aren't we? We have for decades been lured into a false complaisance that we had followed the Westminster model of governance, and should presumably be grateful. So opined our own first Prime Minister, the reputed "Father of the Nation" and "child of his time." He once vacuously rationalised that what's good enough for Britain is good enough for us. There is the view that in negotiating the format of our Constitution, we were confronting the demons of ethnic antipathies bubbling below the surface, fuelled in part by politicians and sundry ethocentrists who, as the poet surmised, were "licking their chops" at the prospect of having their turn in "the mad scrabble at the public troughs for scraps of favour," and I might add for selves, friends and family.
I dare hazard the guess that the framers of our post-independence Constitution did not take into account those lacunae in our Constitution, adumbrated against the background of our peculiar social and political realities, which allowed and perhaps facilitated the emergence of an "imperial presidency," which "looks like a duck, walks like duck and quacks like a duck." I don't wish to go into personalities, but Dr Williams was able to cleverly and heedlessly navigate within the political parameters. Others followed suit, however clumsily and to our irretrievable cost. The Wooding Constitution Review Commission was a credible attempt to update the independence Constitution. In retrospect, it appears not to have been intended to be taken seriously as a then-by all accounts-apparently paranoid Williams publicly excoriated the commissioners, deeming their proposals to be "a dagger to the heart of his political party."
The commission's major concern was "...potential hegemonic nature of political parties perceived to be ethnically based." The proposals were designed to reduce the concentration of power and make parliamentary composition reflective of and sensitive to the range of electoral support on the ground. The cornerstone of the commission's proposals, as I understand it, was a "judicious amalgam" of the first-past the-post and proportional representation electoral systems. Interestingly, in Britain-the "mother of parliaments"-itself, there are some reservations re: certain aspects of both the first-past-the post and proportional systems, but that's another story.
There is the view that proportional representation, in a pure or modified form, could be the panacea for our political problem in respect of the perceived first-past-the-post system being unable to produce a representative administration with the concomitant legitimacy and "moral authority" for governance. On the other hand, there is also the contending notion that proportional representation spawns a multiplicity of ethnic, cultural, religious and other constituencies, which provide the breeding ground for all sorts of combinations and permutations of inherently fluid coalitions, thereby resulting in unstable "revolving-door governments."
Now, what perspective should therefore inform the parameter of constitutional reform? Should a proposed constitution acknowledge and reflect the societal faultlines, as they are, and set up institutions with the machinery for managing the ensuing tensions and conflicts that could otherwise arise and possibly tear the society apart? Alternatively, should one focus on the larger vision, thereby creating institutions that, while acknowledging legitimate divisions, do not legitimise or institutionalise the divisiveness and antipathies? Time alone will tell whether persistent and strident interventions will be the catalyst for informed and dispassionate discourse on genuine constitutional matters.
If such a public discussion degenerates into the usual mindless clack and clatter of those with political axes to grind, hidden agendas to pursue or political ambitions to realise, then we can look forward to the expected spinning of constitutional top in mud. As far back as 2008, Professor Selwyn Ryan, in an Express column, contended, inter alia, that "Trinidad and Tobago in fact already has an 'executive presidency' which masquerades as if it were an expression of the Westminster model with all its assumptions about ministerial accountability and ultimate accountability to Parliament." Ironically, our first Prime Minister, who could eloquently "talk the talk" where democracy was concerned, was apparently unable to "walk the talk," and to put it in a nutshell, was a prime representative of the "quintessential autocrat." We may, hopefully, have seen the last and greatest autocrat. Or have we?