The word ‘consultation’ gained notoriety when political activists here attempted to make a case for general elections before Independence. It was considered a travesty that a great proponent of the process was unwilling to consult anyone once his mind was made up. This hard-headedness has been held against that individual, even after his death. The truth is, there are personalities who defy accepted rules of public opinion (consultations?), even as they purport to serve the popular will. Only last week, a former prime minister of Saint Lucia, addressing the 40th anniversary of the botched Grenada revolution, mentioned George Odlum’s (Foreign Minister) inflexibility to compromise with his prime minister as partially responsible for the demise of the “left” in the region.
From my forty or so years in politics, I can say with conviction that consultation is a much abused and misunderstood word. I did not keep a diary of the many times I called town hall meetings in an effort to consult constituents on important community and national issues. Only the curious came. I feel certain that little has changed. In any event I never set out to consult with every constituent, but merely to inform interested members of the current issue. My job as MP was to do what I thought was right and best for my constituency and to convince the more sceptical ones to support. I believe that a true leader has to be unafraid to do things that may be unpopular at a particular time, knowing that in future the people will see the wisdom of his deeds.
Still, there is a broader issue to the idea of consultation which some leaders may be afraid to confront. Who decides when consultations ought to be exercised, by whom, and to what extent? In a democracy such as is practised in Saint Lucia, political parties tend to consult and canvass supporters and others for votes. Yet no one knows how they arrive at their manifestoes. Is this consultation?
After elections, the parties seldom return to consult anyone on any issue, no matter how important. In any event, if a government in power wishes to consult, shouldn’t it trust the views of those who voted it into office over those who want it out of office?
Incidentally, who do the heads of organisations consult before acting on an issue important to their members? A wise leader will certainly wish to consult with people he believes can reasonably advise him on a more successful outcome of the issue at hand. No leader, however, is bound to consult anyone except his most trusted and knowledgeable officials. He will be certain to keep himself free to accept or reject any advice proffered. That is the essence of wise leadership.
After a wise leader has come to office he is no longer in a popularity contest. Such a leader, if a political one, would be better advised to be feared and respected than to be loved and disrespected. This dilemma, I discovered first-hand over forty years ago, was the Achilles heel of the St. Lucia Labour Party. Perhaps its weak Christian faith, its poverty of spirit and the illiteracy of its rank and file militates against the discernment of the qualities best suited for a political leader, even today.
The truth is that many leaders exhibit at least two sides to their personalities. In office, some take themselves too seriously, behaving as if they alone understand the burden of allocating scarce resources to the many social and economic problems bequeathed to their citizens. Others treat too lightly and informally the significance of raising the thinking of their citizens, whose misfortune it is to be on the lowest rung of the social and economic ladder. In either case a leader stands alone most of the time, in doing what he thinks is best for his people. He must be prepared to stand or fall by his decisions, no matter how important (and unpopular) they may be at the time. He learns quickly that those who shout “consultation” loudest do it in their narrow self-interest. A wise leader keeps in mind the rest of the population who may need a hands-up.
The first duty of a political leader is the safety of the citizen, the leader and the state. No other comes close. To love one’s people as one loves himself merely underpins the safety rule. In the present atmosphere of crime on the island, a leader must unleash without any fanfare or speech an order to capture and/or exterminate the criminals that have killed innocent citizens, wherever they are hiding. IMPACS be damned! He who feels it knows it. Saint Lucia needs to exact revenge on anyone who kills—period. In the present snail-pace atmosphere of the justice system our leaders must lead and stop hiding as a former prime minister used to.
We must stop searching for a perfect “gentleman/leader”. They don’t make these. They never did. We can check the Old Testament for proof.
In an analysis of the books of Samuel and Kings in the Bible (Old Testament), we learn that Saul was a near to perfect man whom God asked Samuel to anoint king. Yet early Jewish history teaches us that a perfect leader is inherently flawed. The ego of such a flawless leader is bound to get the better of him. On the other hand, David was not perfect. He was not even wholly Jewish.
His great-grandmother was Ruth, whose Jewish lineage was questioned even after David was anointed king. It helped humble David. It helped him not to let power get to his head. Saul, on the other hand ,saw himself differently. He had no chink in his armour. That is why he fell apart. There was no one to deflate his ego. There is therefore no more tragic biblical ruler than Saul. He represents what could have been but was not.
From a comparison of Saul and David, we can extrapolate lessons about the inherent challenges of leadership, both in our personal lives and in the lives of those granted the opportunity to lead a nation. Since some of our former prime ministers are still fresh in our minds, we can compare them with the present prime minister and decide for ourselves which is more like Saul and which more like David. Notwithstanding, it seems clear that consultations can be abused, misunderstood and sometimes even unjust. It is on this dilemma that the island’s current industrial climate balances.
