Caught with one's pants down

Daniel Thwaites, Contributor

There was so much hugging and kissing and clothes coming off at the official opening of Parliament that I wondered if JIS's Internet broadcast of the proceedings had been hacked. It turned out that all was well and that there was just a lot of love and congratulations to go around.

Roger Clarke is reported to have said, "Dis a fi me an' Marlene (Malahoo Forte)" when he was called forward to be sworn in. Clarke then embraced and kissed his former opponent, Mrs Malahoo Forte, who graciously accepted the peacemaking entreaties. Look at that. Sharing is caring! Thus began a carnival of compassion.

Hugh Buchanan of SW St Elizabeth and Jolyan Silvera of W St Mary, whose election victories were generally unexpected and whose future prospects are so bright, also greeted their former opponents, who were, in turn, magnanimous.

My friend Mikael Phillips swore in wearing a tiepin that had belonged to Michael Manley, and which had recently been given to him by Joseph. The last father-son team entered Parliament in 1967 when the younger Manley won the Central Kingston constituency and joined 'The Great Man'.

Across the aisle, one saw the hand of Edward Seaga, which after Bruce Golding, I'm certain is for the better. There's Andrew Holness, one protégé, at the helm. And there's Desmond McKenzie, another, as the member for West Kingston.

Speaking of which, last Sunday's Observer quoted McKenzie that his mentor "wasn't afraid to drop lick when you got out of hand". The article continued: "A 1972 caning - he would have been about 20 years old then - stood out in his mind." May I shamelessly record admiration for the way Mr Seaga did not 'romp wid de business'?

To crib from Oscar Wilde, "Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative." So also - even though I've just praised their winning opponents - it's fitting that there's space in the Senate for Bobby Montague and Christopher Tufton. It means 'the ABC (Andrew, Bobby and Christopher) of the JLP' is still in Parliament, and if Andrew completely cuts loose of Bruce, we may yet expect good things.

Empathy for Lloyd B.

All did not flow smoothly. The Gleaner was not feeling a lot of empathy for Lloyd B. Smith. Others of us would have quietly ignored the whole incident and exercised some self-censorship. But that is probably because we find it too easy to envision ourselves being in exactly the same situation. How many times has one found oneself, pants down, wondering, "How did I get here?" Trust me. It happens.

Instead, the Wednesday Gleaner's front page featured Lloyd B.'s pants falling down during the opening ceremony. To feature it so prominently could only heighten the embarrassment for the usually dapper veteran journalist and commentator.

The very idea of the trousers coming down is a long-time mark of humiliation. In February 1992, British MP Paddy Ashdown was leader of the Liberal Democrats when it was revealed that he had previously conducted a five-month affair with his secretary Tricia Howard. This sort of 'scandal' wouldn't even merit a mention in Jamaica. The Sun newspaper of Britain ran a famous headline saying, 'It's Paddy Pantsdown', and the name stuck. People are so kind! We're always remembered for our strongest moments.

Further back, in 1933, with the dark clouds of the Second World War looming, the Oxford Union debated what was called 'the King and Country' motion, and passed a resolution stating, "That this House will in no circumstances fight for its King and Country." The pacifism enraged student Randolph Churchill (son of Winston), who later proposed that the debate be stricken from the record of the Union. He failed, but for his pains was reportedly chased by undergraduates who threatened humiliation by pulling down his trousers. Incidentally, the pacifist resolution was very widely reported and helped convince Benito Mussolini that Britain was a spent threat as he invaded Abyssinia, eventually exiling Haile Selassie and setting in train a series of events with enormous psychic consequences for Jamaicans.

Well, nobody appeared to be chasing Lloyd B., but the trousers kept coming down. As mentioned, Lloyd B. isn't the first, and he won't be the last politician in Jamaica who struggles to keep his pants on. Still, at first I thought Lloyd B. was misunderstanding all the calls for transparency and full disclosure. Then it dawned on me that perhaps it was a style statement consistent with the 'young people time' theme. I figured Lloyd B. was copying the 'gangsta' dress code of saggy pants that's migrated from the American to the Jamaican streets. It was only later that I realised it was a wardrobe malfunction.

Anyway, we can be absolutely certain that Lloyd B. will brush this off and perform well in his new role as deputy speaker of the House.

More important, Lloyd B. knows that the really important gangsters wear impeccable suits and speak with an 'Uppah Sint Awndroo' accent. They normally don't do things as unseemly as actually interact with voters, although they send a representative or two to fulfil that function. One need only read the newspapers to see how they're circling the new administration quick and fast to make sure that the contracts stay in place, the waivers continue, and the tax code never really gets reformed.

Reports are now surfacing that the massive JDIP fund is already significantly depleted, which is just one indication of how hungrily these interests can eat. Five years of food seems to have been swallowed up in a year. Let's see how the incoming administration handles this issue. If they spend any time catering to the official racketeers who were caught with their pants down by the change of administration, the voters who disobeyed the pundits and put them in government will rightfully defect.

Daniel Thwaites is a partner of Thwaites, Lundgren & D'Arcy in New York, and currently qualifying for the Jamaican Bar. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.