Mark Wignall | Who prevails in JCF, Dr Jekyll or Mr Hyde?

Most Jamaicans are hardly ever mildly lukewarm on the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF). They fall somewhere along the spectrum of tolerating it with conditions, hating it, or recognising that no matter the training, the JCF simply mirrors our society.

I have no problem agreeing with Mr Dennis Brooks, senior communication strategist in the JCF who recently expressed the view that qualitatively, the JCF is at the best it has ever been. It is that increase in the quality factor that must have been at work when multiple members of the One Don Gang were busted and brought all the way through many processes and on to trial.

The quality factor again showed up when 15 of 27 members of the Ranco Gang were recently taken in. The gang, we are told, is led by a police constable. A total of eight gang members are also in the JCF. It had to be the quality factor that made the investigators in the JCF stare deep into itself and make a declaration that the status quo on the JCF link with criminality could no longer hold.

It was the quality that proved that the good-cop quality was not homogeneous even if we are to buy in to the view of Mr Brooks that quantitatively, the JCF is also at its best ever.

The good guys in the JCF exposed the set of rotting apples. It is, therefore, quite unfair to use the arrest of policemen as gang members (shootings, robberies, illegal possession of firearms, and abductions in seven parishes) and hold that as an example of the JCF just being its nasty, corrupt, and criminal self. Context matters.

I first saw this development curve in 2005 when I held a conversation with about six policemen at the Denham Town Police Station while they were in full battle-ready gear just in case gunmen from Tivoli Gardens became cranked-up and ready. The men could think through and skillfully articulate their way through many disciplines.

YOUNG AND THE MUCH-TOO MALLEABLE

His eyes and the general expression on his face was more reflective of late-term adolescence instead of any bold, certain steps to adulthood. He is 18 years of age. A few years before, he was booted from a top-ranking high school. His father got him enrolled in a non-brand-name school where academic success is hardly ever the outcome.

But he has the required basics in his school passes. “Why do you want to join the police force?” I asked. Unapologetically, he said, “The pay. It’s better than nothing.” For the last year, he could not land any job.

“How long now have you had the urge to join the force?”

“Oh, from about June last year.” he said.

“Do you recognise that you are likely to face many dangers as a policeman,” I said.

“Yeah but … just about anything you do in Jamaica has dangers to it,” he said.

“As someone on the outside looking in, what is it about the police force that you like?” I asked.

“Well, they look good in their uniforms, and I like the respect that they get.”

I wished him good luck. He sounded like too many I have met and heard of. One foot in the JCF and another foot searching for an excuse to leave.

BIG BELLY TUBS AND MAWGA MAN SUDS

During the worst days of COVID-19’s run in Jamaica, our banks (big belly tubs) made superprofits while large numbers of Jamaicans (mawga man suds) were sucking salt through a wooden spoon.

Banks in the United States, that bastion of capitalism, are heavily regulated while the cries of the People’s National Party’s Fitz Jackson to bring teeth to regulation of our banks has not even taken any life inside his own party. Our banks control about 90 per cent of the foreign exchange market. The other 10 per cent must do for the cambios and other minor players. That allows the major banks to clean up by buying the US dollar and selling it, using at times, a margin of J$7 to J$10.

One big bank in Jamaica, a few years ago, decided to award its top two CEOs a bonus of J$100 million. At the same time, staff were in negotiations with management for a modest salary increase. The management told them, barefacedly, that the bank could not afford it. Talk about raw power.

SNATCHING A VALUABLE DIAMOND

Donald ‘Tabby’ Shaw, who spun his finely woven tenor in the Mighty Diamonds, made it to 67 years of age. Then he was brutally murdered. His relatives have my sympathies because it is all I can give.

It is often thought that when a man reaches into his 60s even his enemies will long have forgotten and forgiven any wrong he did.

His son, we have been told by the police, is in police custody, and they know him as a violence producer. Doesn’t make sense to speculate at this juncture. If my thinking is clear, Jamaica has had over 1,000 murders per year for about 20 years. That’s at least 20,000 murders in 20 years.

“Mark,” said my friend who follows my column religiously, “those statistics reflect war statistics. There is a war going on in Jamaica, but no country had declared war on us. Jamaicans are at war with themselves.

“Only when our high murder rate is tamed can economic development go on in earnest - on employment, education, healthcare, loans for small business, housing, road development and other social services. Instead of guns, jeeps, armoured cars, helmets, and equipment for the JCF and increasing the complement of armed personnel in both the forces.

“Mark, Jamaica is being disembowelled by its own people.”

Mark Wignall is a political and public affairs analyst. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and mawigsr@gmail.com.