IT’S Christmas time, the season of goodwill and celebration, so I vowed not to write about politics this week. Today’s column, then, would be my personal reflection and memory. But, a passing note on politics is in order. Except for an appearance on Plain Talk with Christopher Ram, I have not done anything overtly political since returning to Guyana three weeks ago; I say overtly, because wherever I go and people recognise me, they want to talk about politics and the state of Guyana. So, I have been listening to a lot of politics from ordinary Guyanese and in the process I have learned a lot more about the political instincts of Guyanese.

If those to whom I have spoken represent an accurate sample of the larger society, then I have to conclude that there is a lot of anxiety, anger and fear among the masses.
There seems to be a lot of anxiety about the quality of life in Guyana and our collective capacity to survive as a viable political economy—an anxiety that is shared across ethnic and social lines. Then there is a guarded anger at the present government, particularly among its supporters, for not delivering for them.

I describe it as guarded, because, as always, displeasure of one ethnic group at their political elites is often expressed within the context of fear of the opposite group. There is a genuine fear among African-Guyanese about the return of the PPP to power—a feeling that political revenge would be the order of the day and that they would continue the plunder of the national resources for personal gains. The Indian-Guyanese who spoke to me also expressed their own fear of the return of the rampant PNC in the form of the current government—its PPP rhetoric, but I sense that it’s also a genuine fear among the people.

So, to my mind, this convergence of anxiety, anger and fear is what is before us as we enter 2017. As is usually the case with socio-political phenomena, political people are challenged to understand the moment and to articulate for the country, explanations of the complexity therein. Unfortunately, neither of the two political giants seems to get it. The PPP, in the context of the government’s constant stumbles, has taken the road of imminent triumphalism, brandishing before the public its sharper steel. The government’s side has taken to, among other things, scolding its supporters who publicly express their frustrations for wanting to bring back the PPP.

For me, it is ultimately about what we as a nation and a Caribbean Region do about our condition, our transition from plantation to a nationhood that equally accommodates all our diverse peoples. My politics has never been about individual politicians or political office; to reduce politics to such things is to be ignorant about the centrality of humanity to the political process. As survivors of enslavement, indentureship and colonisation, our constant quest must be the embrace of the notion of humanity—what it is to be human?

This past week I have had the opportunity to spend time with one of my schoolmates whom I had not seen in almost two decades. We were very close friends at school; we shared a passion for literature and language. He was the leader, the popular student and the favourite of most of the teachers—he was charismatic. As Colin and I rolled back the clock of life almost five decades to remember and reflect on our boyhood days, it occurred to me that often in our discourses about the nation we exclude the real essence of the nation, the salt of the earth, the relationships which are forged in the experiences away from the glare of the media and the wider public.

My friend, Colin Burke, as we called him at school, has kept in touch with a lot of our classmates over the years, so it was quite a pleasure to learn where others are and what they have been doing. Colin has not realised how much he is relieving me of a particular kind of loneliness born of unconnectedness from those who helped to form one’s early self. We went to school at a particular juncture in Guyanese and Caribbean history and got our education in Buxton from a group of teachers who were themselves the children of decolonisation and early independence. We, their students, were lucky to get an education that was laden with nationalist pride, idealism and dedication to knowledge- sharing as a tool of social upliftment.

Our geography teacher, Henry Hinds, who now teaches at the University of Guyana, reminded me of the old house which was our school, Buxton Secondary School, and the talent that emerged from that space. Guyana knows Henry Rodney, the great dramatist and cultural worker and Linden knows Orrin Gordon, their former mayor–two of our classmates– but hundreds of others are making their mark across Guyana and the world. Colin took me back to that time when our teachers, unbeknown to us at the time, introduced us to critical thinking and independence of thought and action.

Invariably our conversation moved to politics—it is impossible to stay away from that place when I catch up with my schoolmates. Colin wanted me to explain how as a member of the WPA which is part of the government, can I be as critical of some of government’s actions as I have been. As first I thought it was a rhetorical question, but soon realised that he genuinely wanted an explanation. I started to talk about my activism as part of the independent trading in Guyana and the Caribbean, but then realised there was a better explanation. I reminded him that he was Head Prefect and my best friend at school, but that I, in my infant suspicion of authority along with other schoolboy and girl rebels, disobeyed every order from the prefects. He instantly got it and we both remarked that my challenge to his authority never for one minute diminished our friendship. That in and of itself should be a lesson to our national leaders.

Colin’s question caused me to think about the subject more than I often do. As much as I don’t want to believe it, self-criticism is not readily understood and even frowned upon my many Guyanese—it’s okay to critique the other side, but never your own, even when their errors are as plain as day. I think it has to do with the ethnic polarisation in which we have been politically socialised. One young lady recently suggested on social media that my critique of the government must be because I was not chosen as a minister—she was obviously angry at me. My suspicion is that, that narrative of my bitterness is discreetly circulated among the faithful. It is sad that a society that has historically been shaped by its experience of resistance against the over-reach of authority could throw up people who could be so oblivious to its value.

Why can’t critique not be based on conscience and principle? Why does it always have to be the function of bitterness and retaliation? The slave masters thought that slave resistance was the result of sub-human instincts and not reason. It is unfortunate that the children of the enslaved today perpetuate some of the same reasoning of the slave master.
The minister thing is so laughable that it’s not worth comment. Suffice to say that those who expect me to be a cheerleader of government or to suppress my honest views because it could hurt a government that I voted for and still support, have little understanding of our own history and country.

I am not a product of Mars; I have been socialised n Guyana and am a product of this very society. I am doing nothing politically now that I have not done since I was a schoolboy and publicly for the last four decades and that was not done by our fore-parents. I simply am not the uncritical status-quo type. I have no interest in undermining this government, but when faced with the choice between protecting government on the one hand and witnessing for the poor and powerless and upholding the right of dissent on the other, I readily choose the latter. My politics is largely a politics of conscience.
More of Dr. Hinds ‘writings and commentaries can be found on his YouTube Channel Hinds’ Sight: Dr. David Hinds’ Guyana-Caribbean Politics and on his website www.guyanacaribbeanpolitics.com. Send comments to dhinds6106@aol.com