This has been yet another disappointing and noisy general election campaign. Eighteen years ago, as the 1994 general election ended, I sent this letter to the editor of THE NATION newspaper:
“As the three political parties analyse their performances during the recent election campaign, I hope they come to the conclusion that the platform revelry which preceded their meetings was distracting and unnecessarily noisy and added little if anything to attract votes.
“I hope they’ll appreciate that with each election more and more Barbadians, whether they vote or not, are paying attention to the issues. And there was no shortage of issues this time.
“As the appetite for corned beef and biscuits recedes, let us not replace it with music and lights.”
I tried again five years later in 1999 with this:
“Character assassination, comic relief and platform stupidity seem intent on following Barbados into the 21st century.
“This was one of the biggest disappointments of the just-concluded political brawl, which attempted to pass itself off as a campaign. It’s a disappointment because I recall the solemn promise given to the young people 15 years ago, that they could expect more substance from political platforms.
“They were told that we would be concentrating on ‘the issues’, not whose aunt’s third cousin was a maid in Belleville. But alas, speakers – make that shouters – from platforms across the island just could not resist the temptation to do what they do best: cuss one another.”
Last week a friend emailed from London: “Why do they shout so loud? Are we still living in ancient Rome, in 44 BC, with Mark Antony on the steps of the Capitol? The good thing about the technology this time has been the facility called Internet live streaming. Do they realise that they’re now broadcasting to the planet?”
Even before Internet broadcasting, I had long ago ceased “bottling night dew” at political meetings.
There was the time when I couldn’t avoid it. A few images have left their imprint. One was the sad sight of the loser in the December 1970 St Joseph by-election forlornly disappearing into the night in Lammings as the returning officer announced the result into my Rediffusion microphone; the other was my midnight flat tyre at Bayfield in St Philip.
Technologically, we’ve come a long way. Corned beef and biscuits have given way to more palatable blandishments, while those with the facility of language dish out insult and invective like puddin’ an’ souse on Saturdays.
Issues? What issues? I’ve been straining my ears, for example, to hear why Barbados abstained from supporting the Palestinians at the United Nations, but kept hearing descriptions about the dimensions of someone’s nose and whose jacket gets bigger every Tuesday.
Every four or five years, just as we think that our politicians will keep their promises and discuss the issues, they let us down. They just can’t keep it above the belt.
Both political parties – as usual – produced their manifestos just a few days before polling, with hardly a mutter from an electorate more interested in entertainment, mud-slinging and gossip than substance. But then, who cares about a manifesto? It’s not a social contract; it’s just a statement of intent.
Over the past five years the governing party has pretty much beaten the stuffings out of the mantra: “Barbados is not only an economy, it’s also a society”. It’s about time it fine-tuned that ideal.
What about how we live cheek by jowl on this tiny island, making one another uncomfortable with noise, smoke, unruly behaviour and other aspects of social erosion?
How do we achieve Freundel Stuart’s “strengthening of the national character” and Owen Arthur’s “caring society”? The words are there; the will is not.
This election is about survival – not only for the jittery employees at the Transport Board or the Caribbean Broadcasting Corporation – for several politicians, too; with their $16 000 salaries.
The party will soon be over.
• Carl Moore was the first Editor of THE NATION and is a social commentator.
