Getting around politics

I stubbornly attempted to continue down my usual course. Big mistake. I turned back. I tried what I thought was a reasonable alternative route. Thwarted again. My attempt at taking a relatively short path to the airport was disrupted by a sea of green-clad Labourites. I gave in, waved my fist in the air and shouted, "Damned politicians, you've ruined my life again! Damn you!"

Okay, I didn't do the fist thing or shout or curse. I simply resigned myself to the fact that I would be late. The person waiting would just have to accept my excuse: Bruce did it. Or was it Andrew? Actually, it was probably Norman or Busta. Whoever it was, the tribal pageantry he promoted had disrupted my life. As I travelled grudgingly down South Camp Road, two thoughts crept into my mind: 1. Heineken must have made a killing today; and 2. What in the world are these people so happy about?

The Masses

Never before have I seen so many people so excited about being - how do I put this respectfully? - screwed. For five decades they have been flocking in droves to party conference after party conference, shouting "Shower" in between sips of Heineken and "Power" in between swigs of Red Stripe. The result: 50 years of increasing poverty and heartache and decreasing jobs and security.

I could understand why the ones clutching spliffs were excited. Upon taking one draw, Tetrahydrocannabinol, the main psychoactive substance in marijuana, binds to cannabinoid receptors in the brain, stimulating the mesolimbic system, causing the brain to release dopamine and endorphins - the same feel-good chemicals that show up when we are in love or as we 'box off' a one-and-a-quarter-pound snapper at Hellshire.

These chemicals are responsible for the uncontrollable laughter that an intoxicated person experiences when there is absolutely nothing comical taking place. These same chemicals cause us to ring bells and cheer hysterically at political rallies when there's no food on the table at home.

The Bright, Young Politicians

If I had a dollar for each time someone asked me, "When are you entering politics?" well, I'd have about three dollars and 50 cents. But, I know people - young, bright, educated, otherwise sensible people - who hear this question frequently and take it seriously. They are actively seeking to engage or are already engaged in politics. Why? Why would intelligent young people choose to dedicate their lives to a system that has been so damaging to Jamaica?

For the deluded masses and young politicians alike, politics satisfies a deep desire to belong. They throw on their green and orange garb and dance awkwardly on stage or riotously in the streets for a common cause - victory. It is this same need to belong, this need to affiliate with a like-minded group, that attracts countless young, disaffected youth with no marketable skills or talents to criminal gangs.

For others, the attraction is even simpler: popularity. The typical political aspirant will never get the opportunity he truly desires: to tuck the winning goal into the back of the net at Stamford Bridge as 42,449 adoring fans scream madly and declare him Lord of London. The 'Smile Jamaica' interviews, the beholden constituents, and the thousands of politically crazed supporters draped in tribal gear, ringing bells and shouting, "Call the election", provide the next best outlet.

There are, of course, the rare, delusional do-gooders who truly believe that somehow, being a member of parliament will change the world. It is, unfortunately, they who tend to change - not the world. Their idealistic dreams ultimately give way to the pressures of a system that rewards guile and cunning and punishes heroism and principle.

There was a time when I was interested in representative politics. I'm not sure which of the above camps I fell into (though a goal at Stamford Bridge would be nice). But I experienced an epiphany - politics in Jamaica isn't constructive or progressive, it's destructive. The people who are truly changing Jamaica are the silent, unheralded multitude working tirelessly and innovatively, without pomp or fanfare, in business, academia, media and civil and community service.

My thoughts dissipated as I pulled up to Norman Manley International Airport - only a few minutes late. I decided not to blame anyone for my tardiness - not even the politicians. I simply apologised for taking so long to find a more effective way around the politics. And then I took a better route home.

Din Duggan is an attorney working as a consultant with a global legal search firm. Email him at columns@gleanerjm.com or dinduggan@gmail.com, or view his past columns at facebook.com/dinduggan and twitter.com/YoungDuggan.