Some of those who cluster round the table in the Cabinet room today are the same people who entered it for the first time in 1992. Eighteen years ago they were hopeful, idealistic, anxious to transform the country, committed to the poor, on a mission to curb excess and wedded to the altruism of President Jagan’s dollar-a-year outlook. And look how far they’ve come. And look how far those who are associated with their party have come. And the farther they have come, the greater the distance they have placed between themselves and those they were elected to serve. In fact, they no longer see themselves as servants of the people any more; the roles have been reversed, and the people have become their servants.
It happens to all governments which are in power too long, our neighbour Trinidad and Tobago supplying a classic example in the shape of the Manning administration. But in democratic societies there usually comes a point when the electorate decides to call a halt – as it did in the twin island republic; the problem is that in Guyana the mechanism for changing governments does not function in quite the way it does elsewhere for reasons which are too well known to bear repeating.
Politics at its most basic is about the exercise of power, and it inevitably tends to attract into its ranks those who enjoy power. It requires a human being of great self-discipline, character, humility and vision to resist the seduction of power, and such creatures are not that common. This does not mean, of course, that most of those who seek office have no ideals and are not concerned about the nation; quite the contrary, in fact. Overwhelmingly, those who are voted into government want to improve things, and above all else they have a total faith in their own capacity to achieve this.
At first when they accede to the reins of government they listen, are tolerant of well-meaning critics and attempt to make some accommodations. To what extent they do this, and how long this phase lasts varies according to the country, the administration concerned and the circumstances in which they find themselves.
In our case, from the outset there was no great disposition to accept perceptions and suggestions from outside the magic circle of Freedom House, given the almost Stalinist-style organization and approach of the PPP. Some accommodations were made, however, in the Cheddi Jagan period, but even those limited efforts have largely come to a halt.
In any case, the heady combination of the exercise of power combined with the conviction that they can change the country – even the world, if necessary – inevitably makes those in office not only resistant to paying attention to the views of others, but by extension, hostile to critics as well. The latter in particular are seen as attempting to undermine an administration’s efforts and play down its ‘successes.’ Most of all, in a democratic society the fear always is that critics will inform the perceptions of the electorate on whose votes the continued exercise of power by an incumbent depends.
In our case, of course, the problem has been exacerbated by history, or more properly, the divergent conceptions of that history, as well as by ethnic stances and plain, old-fashioned paranoia.
The situation is not improved either by the completely misplaced belief in this country, at least, that all changes can be accomplished quickly and can be done simply by the issuing of a ukase, as the tsars used to do in the heyday of absolute rule. It has led to a habit, not just of bypassing systems, but also of blaming officialdom when things remain undone. The assumption has been from the beginning, that one’s own loyalists are what one needs to accomplish anything, particularly at higher levels in the bureaucracy. This habit of installing friends and political associates in senior posts is one of the reasons for the huge loss of skills in the country, as a consequence of which the system cannot function effectively. It also cannot function as it should because there is no one in it (even those who are not placemen) who will dare “speak truth to power.” So power becomes more and more enamoured of the sound of its own voice, and more and more antipathetic to the sound of anyone else’s.
It is easy to slide from this into ignoring the rules and confusing what is in one’s own interest with what is in the nation’s interest. It is a substitution which leads to all kinds of aberrations, corruption being not the least of them. And when the people start questioning power about irregularities, it reacts with virulence, accusing them of belonging to the opposition or ironically, lacking ethics. It becomes more secretive because even it has a sense that it is not in harmony with the rules, and openness would damage its credibility and image. And image, for anyone engaged in any form of pretence, is everything. Puncture the image, and real damage is done, because there is simply no integrity behind it.
President Jagdeo has followed the example of the late President Burnham by appearing in villages to deal with residents’ problems, and intervening in all manner of disputes. As such, the Office of the President takes on more and more responsibility, and some of the ministries less and less. What happened in Burnham’s day simply was that ministers quite often stood back and did little, because the President was going to take all the decisions anyway. If a head of state and government has to be involved in micro-managing, the system will inevitably atrophy and become less and less fit for purpose. And modern societies need competent bureaucrats, autonomous institutions and systems which work if they are to have any hope of developing and succeeding. One-man decision-making is not the way to run any country.
Our situation has not been helped by a less than energetic opposition, which now has lost its most effective speaker in the form of Mr Winston Murray, who even supposing – as everyone hopes – he is restored to consciousness, will certainly not return to politics. The level and tone of his presentations, his grasp of the issues, his unfailing good manners and the thoroughness of his preparation do not have an equivalent in our political firmament.
As it is, therefore, we have a government divorced from the reality of the ordinary man and woman, convinced that it is always right and anyone who raises an objection always wrong, and which believes that only it can deliver benefits to the populace. It a state beyond arrogance; it is hubris.