The Andrew Holness-led Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) administration entered office in 2016 promising to lift Jamaica “from poverty to prosperity”. Who knew the showers of blessings would have arrived so fast and furious?
The evidence of the administration’s success is convincing: consecutive years of noteworthy economic growth; the lowest unemployment rate in the history of independent Jamaica; debt-to-GDP under 100 per cent for the first time in more than a decade; and ‘domestic helpers’ amassing multimillion-dollar bank accounts.
Sure, nitpickers obsessed with such trivialities as nuance, logic, and fairness might grant equal credit to the previous People’s National Party (PNP) administration for those positive economic indicators. But if Miss Jean, masterfully juggling Fabuloso and fabric softener, can amass a $20-million bank balance, who cares? All must be well in Jamaica, land we love.
Deep and Widespread Corruption
Of course, all is not well. And unless you’ve been under a rock or busy feasting on $100,000 cakes at surprise birthday parties, you’re surely familiar with the fiasco involving Ruel Reid. The former education minister was asked to resign his Cabinet post because of his starring role in a Hollywood-style conspiracy involving monies allegedly funnelled to his domestic workers. This came on the heels of the Petrojam scandal for which then-Energy Minister Andrew Wheatley was forced to resign after allegations of impropriety within his own ministry.
Her Majesty’s Opposition, no doubt aware of pioneering American community organiser Saul Alinsky’s edict in Rules for Radicals to “never let a good crisis go to waste,” promptly seized upon the opportunity to use the salacious allegations to assume moral headship on the corruption issue. But someone should perhaps hold a mirror to the Opposition’s face that they might see their own ugly penchant for chicanery.
I am not here to determine which of our political parties has feasted more ravenously at the buffet of public corruption, filling as that exercise might be. The indisputable fact is that for too many years, under both parties, Jamaica has suffered an epidemic of corruption and a deep devoid of public accountability.
The March 2017 annual International Narcotics Control Strategy Report described corruption in Jamaica as being “entrenched and widespread”. Transparency International’s 2017 Corruption Index scored Jamaica 44. A score below 50 is indicative of “prevalent bribery, a lack of punishment for corruption, and public institutions that do not respond to the needs of citizens”. The common man on the street, however, needs no outside help confirming what he already perceives: Jamaica’s public institutions are deeply corrupt. This corruption is devastating to our democracy – politically, economically, socially. It must end now.
“Nah go a jail again”
Fortunately, I’ve never been to jail. Wait. That’s not entirely true. As a first-year law student, I interned with the Washington, DC Public Defender’s Office. I accompanied a senior public defender to the DC jail – a correctional facility notable for such abominable conditions that, over a recent two-year period, nearly 200 of its inmates attempted suicide.
The mission was to visit and counsel a client – a young man charged with murder. There was some discussion about the particulars of his case, though I have no recollection of any of it. What I clearly remember is the coldness and bleakness of the place. Jail resembled, in person, the barbaric environment that I had seen on television and pictured in my mind’s eye.
I also remember my own thoughts: If I were in his prison-issued shoes, would I need to ‘box down’ the ‘baddest’ man on the block to gain credibility? Are conjugal visits reserved exclusively for married inmates? Could I successfully petition the warder to use liquid soap in the shower to entirely remove the possibility of dropping the soap? Those questions went unanswered, thankfully.
I was reformed – even without being accused, arrested, or convicted. The prospect of spending even five minutes in a place like that has served me well as a powerful deterrent against engaging in nefarious activities. Our politicians need similar discouragement.
Throughout our nation’s history, senior public officials have faced countless corruption allegations. Many have resigned, riding off into the sunset with a tap on the wrist and feigned reproof. Tepid, amorphous apologies have been issued. Innumerable reports have been commissioned. And exactly one – one – senior government official has faced prison for corruption – 1980s-era Labour Minister J.A.G. Smith.
Recently, Dirk Harrison, the acting director of corruption prosecutions, stepped down in frustration from the Integrity Commission – an organisation whose mandate it is to expose and prosecute public corruption. During the acting director’s tenure – in fact, during the entirety of the commission’s history – exactly zero incidents of corruption have been prosecuted.
I would not casually wish prison on the worst of my enemies. But clearly, shame is an inadequate deterrent for those enemies of our State who masquerade as public servants while morally and economically bankrupting our country for their own personal enrichment.
Taking extraordinary measures to attack violent crime, the prime minister has designated sections of several depressed communities as zones of special operations – stripping hundreds of young men of their freedom for their role in our country’s widespread lawlessness, bloodthirst, and mayhem. In the PM’s own words, “There is no question about the success of the strategy.” In that case, Mr Prime Minister, it might be time to extend those operations to sections of Gordon House.
