THE TAXI DRIVER taking me to the airport one early morning in Alberta, Canada, in 1998, was an immigrant from Sierra Leone. We immediately started a conversation.
He asked: “Where are you from?”
I replied: “Barbados, in . . . .” He interrupted and finished my sentence with: “Oh yes, in the Caribbean. Proud people.”
I nodded approval in accepting the compliment as he put another question: “Who is your head of state?”
“The Queen,” I answered.
“What’s the name of your queen?” he inquired.
“Elizabeth,” I replied.
A long pause ensued as he looked out his window at the sprawling Alberta prairie, obviously preparing another query. “Elizabeth?” he probed.
“Yes, Elizabeth, the Queen of England,” I offered.
“But, I don’t understand. That lady is the Queen of England. Is she still the Queen of Barbados, even now that you are independent?”
I managed a response to the effect that as a member of the Commonwealth, Barbados retained the Queen of England, who is the head of the Commonwealth, as our head of state.
Unimpressed, he rejoined with an almost pitying: “Naaaaw, man. You must get your own queen.”
And, as if by way of relieving me of my temporary unease, he switched to cricket. He mentioned “Sobers”, to my surprise.
“Sir Garfield Sobers,” I said proudly, whereupon he returned to the subject of nationhood, this time with a solution. “You should make him your head of state, then!”
We laughed as he pulled up alongside the arrival area of Calgary’s tidy international airport. I paid him the fee, with a hefty tip; we shook hands and said goodbye.
That encounter in Canada served to bring home to me, more than anything else since, or before, that there is, or ought to be, no difference between the pride and confidence an individual feels and the pride and confidence that individual’s country feels.
After promising that Barbados would become a republic before the end of 2005, Prime Minister Owen Arthur made another promise: it would happen the following year.
It never did. The matter died.
The reason most Barbadians see no benefit from the logical evolution to republicanism is that they have never been able to transfer to or share their own individual pride with their nation. And that is understandable. What great national sacrifice have Barbadians under the age of 40 ever experienced?
It’s been relatively plain sailing since Independence: no one had to go to some far-off land to fight a war; since the war years of the 1940s we haven’t had to make do with ground provisions and the rationing of rice. The last really devastating storm must’ve been in 1898!
Pride, confidence and self-esteem cannot be measured on the simplistic scales of economic avoirdupois.
It’s amazing that “brilliant” Barbadian thinkers don’t seem to understand this. They keep asking: “Will republicanism reduce the price of sweet potatoes?” and “Will it result in a larger salary for me?” Pride, whether personal or national, is intangible; you can’t eat it; you can’t drink it; you can’t wear it; you can’t buy it from the supermarket.
Many over-40 Barbadians, on the other hand, even though they have experienced hardship, are equally unconvinced about the idea. They too see no real reason to switch; they would leave it as it is. If it ain’t broke, why fix it?
The idea of nationhood has never been burned into our consciousness. For example, is our National Anthem played at the start of a movie in the cinema? Up to November 30, 1966, God Save The Queen was, and almost everybody stood at attention.
It takes national pride to understand the meaning of republican status. As long as we are confronted with “What’s in it for me?” there will be no acceptance of this worthy concept.
National pride is formed in the churning crucible of sacrifice, challenge and setback. Look at Japan.
So far, that hasn’t been our experience.
Carl Moore was the first Editor of THE NATION and is a social commentator.
