It's been interesting how quickly the public at large has seen through the PSC's treatment of the Police Commissioner. That august personage is being given the bum's rush for reasons which I could speculate about here, but which would be taken out by my editor. (Libel, you know.)
Why the rush to run the sheriff out of town? Clearly it's not competence-given his predecessors' legacy, he's doing OK. And it's not that "we" have any great dislike of Caucasians or Canadians. Calder Hart, to whom we were so generous, is from Canada, and Johnny O'Halloran, who took our millions with him to die there, have achieved near folk-hero status in local lore. And there's our history of tripping over ourselves to be accommodating to "foreign visitors"-usually as a prelude to our mad rush to emigrate to their countries.
So what's different about Dwayne Gibbs, compared to the foreign visitors "we" seem to prefer? From the evidence, we seem to like people who would be men's room attendants in their home countries to come here so we could give them jobs as neurosurgeons, publishers, in advertising, and as "consultants" in every field from academia to construction.
Many Trinidadian writers and social critics have noticed this. From Jean Baptiste Philippe in the 1820s (in Free Mulatto), to Albert Gomes and the Beacon posse (1930s in the Beacon), to Edgar Mittelholzer (1940s in A Morning at the Office), to Walcott (1970s in Pantomime), and Naipaul (1960s in The Middle Passage), the phenomenon has been well-documented. Mittelholzer's British overseer, Sidney Whitmer, who actually has a conscience, fulminates about louts from England who "would be sniffed at by a Hoxton charwoman" being given lifetime membership in the Country Club, and jobs above locals.
But while Trinidad has attracted many undesirables from the metropole, this is not to generalise about the nature of white or foreign folk, nor is it to insinuate that "tha' is how wite people is." There have been many worthy metropolitan visitors who have met less than happy fates in sweet Trinidad. This is a set of stories which is not so well known, and Commissioner Gibbs should pay attention, since they concern him.
A good example was Justice John Gorrie, the Chief Justice of Trinidad late in the 19th century. Gorrie had some extremely odd notions about justice. He felt that poor people were entitled to justice as much as the rich. In one famous case involving an obeah man, Nahnee, in 1886, Gorrie overturned a conviction from the lower court-apparently the police had not been thorough in collecting evidence, and resorted to the old "set up" strategy.
In another ruling in 1888, Gorrie effectively decriminalised the whe whe, which was moaned at by the respectable classes, since he had compared it to the games played by them. And perhaps his greatest sin was his judicial habit of assuming Indian labourers were not congenital liars-an assumption widely held at the time (and still held by many today).
Gorrie's curious notions of justice did not find favour with the "upper classes" and he was soon dispensed with. (Bridget Brereton's fine biography, Law, Justice and Empire, tells the full story.) A second example involves a duo: Governor Murchison Fletcher and his Colonial Secretary, Howard Nankivell. Despite the popular belief that every colonial official was evil (promoted by corbeaus and cretins posing as historians and "cultural activists"), Fletcher and Nankivell, who served during the Labour Riots, were actually sympathetic to the labourers.
Fletcher suggested to the colonial office in London that improvements in conditions of Trinidadian labour were necessary and just. Both had their careers ruined by local business interests and their British principals. Nankivell, who suggested that companies should pay workers fairly before paying dividends to shareholders, met his death in curious circumstances.
And this (ruin, not death) has been the fate of many decent, capable non-locals who have left here with little to show for their efforts but two local predilections: cussing and steupsing. You hear their stories in airports, bars, and the occasional party in certain homes when the booze starts to flow.
Their doppelgangers, the men and women who were/are welcomed (as Gorrie, Fletcher and Nankivell et al were persecuted) seem have a few things in common. In the Port-of Spain Gazette on March 11, 1890, a story headlined "An Accomplished Swindler" told of a foreign visitor, the Baron Rene de la Martiniere, who passed himself off as French nobility among local French Creoles, who had disappeared, leaving prodigious unpaid bills, and (I'd guess) a few deflowered maidens.
A year earlier, another illustrious gentleman, this one a clergyman, the Archdeacon Richards, managed to convince several hundred Indian labourers that his special relationship with God made his care safer than the bank for their money. The authorities could find no charges to lay against him: the Indians gave him their money, after all.
Adduced to Dennis Stafford, Johnny O, Calder Hart and their lot, a historical pattern seems to emerge. In 2002, when discussing the PNM's return to power, and what would inevitably result (crime, destruction and social collapse), I mentioned a philosopher, Giambattista Vico, whose idea of cyclic history posited that humanity, because of our intrinsic natures, would continue reliving the same plot-lines, if the scripts would change.
The illustrious publisher of the TnT Mirror, Maxie "Good Luck Patrick" Cuffie, then posing as a journalist at CCN, went out of his way to sneer at the reference to Vico and the very notion of "education" that would consider such knowledge useful. But that's the PNM's (and other corrupt, petty people's) attitude to anything that exposes them. In simple terms: keep the crooks who keep the system as it is; chase those who want to fix it.
