Dear Editor,
Those who know something of Greek history and about the Trojan War might not have come across the name Glaucus. This is because his role was only a small part in the drama of the Trojan War. As a military leader of the Lycian army, Glaucus was valiant enough, but failed in his attempts to win a place on the A-list of heroic celebrities. Yet in these modern times his name would pop up from time to time. That was the prize for which he fought and won. Unlike Glaucus of ancient times, S. S. Ramphal (1928-2024) won a place in the pantheon of fighters for national and social liberation of Southern Africa; Zimbabwe and South Africa in particular. It was by dint of the many challenges he faced and successes achieved in his role as Commonwealth Secretary General that he joined the A-list of international celebrities; a prize he justifiably won.
The idea that fame is a kind of immortality is an ancient one that, up to today, shows no sign of losing its attraction. The question is why? What good does it do the dead to be in the pantheon of famous men and to be on the posthumous celebrity list? From books we read, we discern that men and women in almost every field of human endeavour possess the impulse to make a name for themselves and to leave a legacy. Fame seems a very flimsy thing to live and to die for. But as history would have it, when Shridath Ramphal at an early age picked up his pen and turned to the microphone, heading for what eventually became diplomatic and negotiating fame, he began a journey that cemented a place for himself in the global hall of fame. With his passing, most Common-wealth nations would have paid homage, in one way or another, to Ramphal recalling his role as Commonwealth Secretary General, other international bodies and academic institutions where he would have served in support of the global quest for peace, equality and justice.
Local newspaper editorials and letters to the editors of mainstream media have been published at home and abroad about Ramphal’s oratory skills and diplomatic exploits as well as his personal style, experiences, attitudes and feelings be brought into his life work. Ramphal’s name and his photographs accompanied with messages of condolences have appeared on the front pages of mainstream media and online media outlets. But what his photographs and what has been written about him does is to literally peel off layers of his persona and trap it on paper.
I recall how as the then Minister of Foreign Trade and International Coopera-tion, and he as CARICOM’S Chief Negotiator on External Negotiations, along with other CARICOM ministers helped shape international trade negotiations ahead of us. Later, when CARICOM Heads decided to break up the negotiations into four separate, but coordinated theatres of negotiations, they assigned Rohee as CARICOM’s Lead Negotiator at the WTO along with four other CARICOM ministers as Lead Negotiators for the US/FTAA, ACP/EU, CARICOM/ Canada and WTO theatres of negotiations with Richard Bernal as coordinator. We all benefited from the foundation laid, and guidance provided by PJ Patterson and Ramphal allowing us to confidently proceed with those negotiations.
Thus far, what has been written and said about Ramphal’s contributions, convinces me that we live in a celebrity culture, meaning from the writing and speeches of celebrities such as poets, musicians, diplomats, actors, legal practitioners, politicians, sportsmen, academics and scientists, thoughts of posterity must have crossed their minds from time to time knowing that there will be others who will follow their example. Then there are the critics and cynics who will cherry pick the negatives and dig up what they consider as the shady side of their lives.
It appears that since Ramphal chose to pursue the diplomatic world’s path, he carried with him two sorts of destinies. That is, if he stayed in Guyana and continued his association with local politics and the sordid electoral record of the PNC he would continue to be bruised professionally. But in a democracy where freedom of speech is upheld and where the records speak for themselves we know such bruises will not go away. This phenomenon is reflected in some letters to the editor about Ramphal that speak implicitly to the age-old adage; ‘No man is a prophet in his own land.’
Ramphal’s association with the CARICOM mission to Guyana following the 1997 election that cut two years off the PPP’s term in office for the sake of peace and stability in the country raised eye-brows amongst party supporters at home and abroad as well as in the leadership of the party. By opting to labour in the vineyards of international relations and diplomacy and to dedicate his energies on foreign battlefields of global politics, Ramphal carved out for himself a legacy for years to come. The view that celebrity transcends mortality seems to be more than a mere metaphor. In this regard, good examples are Cuffy, H. N. Critchlow, LFS Burnham, Cheddi and Janet Jagan, Martin Carter, Walter Rodney and Dave Martins to mention a few. Apart from us being their heirs, through life, we preserve their memory and assign immortality to them by way of our references in speeches and writings about them.
So, in a larger sense, whenever passing by the statues of Cuffy or Critchlow in Georgetown, or the monuments to Damon at Anna Regina or the Rose Hall Martyrs’ Memorial at Canje, or the 1823 Slave Rebellion Monument at the Kitty sea wall, know that what they stood for is everlasting because they reproduce themselves in us as part of our history and because their names and contributions are mentioned in various fora and publications from time to time.
Sincerely,
Clement J. Rohee