Yes, indeed, to truth!
Stephen Vasciannie
I WANT Jamaica to have a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I want to have it publicly stated whether, or to what extent, Michael Manley, Edward Seaga, P.J. Patterson, D.K. Duncan, Bruce Golding, Trevor Munroe, Tony Abrahams, Portia Simpson and other politicians from the 1970s were linked to the gun violence and brutality which crippled the Jamaica of my teenage years.
I want to know too if broad public perceptions about certain politicians are wrong. Did the parties of the 1970s, the PNP, the JLP and the WPJ, wilfully pursue a policy of violence and mayhem in pursuit of power and glory, on the backs of a bewildered populace? Or more precisely, which members of these parties connived, directly or indirectly, with gunmen in the furtherance of their political fortunes?
Again, I want to know the extent to which the violence of the 1970s could have been avoided if men and women of honour and influence had been prepared to point fingers and to speak out. Surely, not all high-ranking politicians were complicit in our virtual civil war, but why did they not act publicly to staunch the blood-letting? Did they fear private poisoning? Did they fear being shot in the back? Did they just fear?
Who knew about the plans for Green Bay, and when did they learn about them? Who masterminded the fire at Orange Lane? The Gold Street attack? The murder of Roy McGann? The Top Hill shootings? Was the Eventide Fire linked to political machinations? What role did the CIA and Cuban authorities play in pulling the triggers of guns held in Jamaican hands?
The proposed Truth and Reconciliation Commission could help us unravel some of these knotty questions from the recent past. It could also point us in the direction of solutions to the tribalism and discrimination which still characterise the body politic.
Clear the deck
To work fairly, it could not be limited to the 1970s, for this could be tendentious: its mandate would be to uncover the links between criminality and politics in Independent Jamaica, and this would naturally include politically motivated violence sponsored by the forces of the state up to the present time.
For me, the case for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission is based on our need, as a nation, to clear the deck of political criminality once and for all. Which Jamaican today genuinely looks at our politicians with pride? Which Jamaican does not hold a presumption of chicanery and deceit against even those of our politicians who try to stand above the nastiness of our politics?
Many of us, rightly or wrongly, believe that the Prime Minister has not done nearly enough to cut his party's links to garrison politics and certainly want to see him doing more. Many of us, rightly or wrongly, believe that the Leader of the Opposition is a prime beneficiary, and indeed stands as a powerful architect, in the realm of garrison politics. Many of us, rightly or wrongly, believe too that the president of the
NDM, has also been a garrison baby.
Atonement
Should we not wish to settle these matters once and for all? Should we not wish to lift perceptions about the way we run our politics from the deepest river in Hades? And, should we not wish to re-establish the link between political leadership and responsibility? For me, a properly constituted Truth and Reconciliation Commission could start us down the long road to admission and, ultimately, to atonement.
But, ah, the naysayers are in abundance. And their arguments flow even more profusely. In the course of last week alone, the proposals in favour of truth and reconciliation have been shot at by the following arguments, among others:
The timing is not right;
Truth and reconciliation hearings would only open up old wounds, and could even stir up villainy against those prepared to spill the beans;
The whole thing would not work because our politicians are too crafty to lay their status and future on the line with frank disclosures;
That only retired politicians, with no likelihood of political resurrection, would contemplate complete admission;
That the truth and reconciliation proposals are really meant to favour particular parties, or to bring others into disrepute, and are therefore part of a grand scheme of political trickery;
That everyone knows there was a civil war in Jamaica in the 1970s, so what would be the purpose of going over well-trodden ground?
That the idea of criminal immunity in return for confessions is not morally justified, for it would sever the link between action (namely support for violence) and responsibility for such action;
That this rock is too small for truth and reconciliation hearings: our children will rock with shame and embarrassment were they to learn what our parents have done;
That the events that would be covered are too recent, the sores too fresh, for us to start rubbing salt through them in the quest for truth;
And that the South African precedent is not appropriate for several reasons, not least the fact that South Africa has actually undergone a fundamental shift in power relations, while we have not.
Some of these arguments have elements of validity, but, on balance, they do not tip the scales against a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. No one could realistically suggest that the process of exploring the sins of the past will be painless, that families will not be traumatised, that leaders will not be embarrassed, and so on. Some, however, who challenge the idea of a full round of confessions need to be careful that they are not perceived as having things to hide, on their own, or on behalf of others.
The question is where does the greater value lie: in the public's interest in knowledge about the horrors of our past, or in the politician's private interest in preserving his or her name? For me, the answer is not difficult: we should say, yes, indeed, to truth!
Stephen Vasciannie, an attorney-at-law, is a member of the NDM. His views are not necessarily those of the UWI where he works, or of the NDM.
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