Almost from the moment he opted to become a back-bencher, immediately following the 2021 general elections, Kenny Anthony’s contributions to House debates have tended to leave his party colleagues in a state of apoplexy. On more than a few occasions the former prime minister had not so subtly reminded fellow parliamentarians that some of them had been his students when he was a law lecturer at UWI—reminders that more often than not underscored the shortcomings of the seldom heard, seldom seen attorney general who sits during House sessions at the right hand of the prime minister.
Anthony’s prime target was not nearly as obvious on the afternoon of April 25, when he stood up to address the day’s Appropriations Bill. From the get-go he signaled his presentation would, as usual, be unlike the predictable partisan petty bleatings that today pass in parliament for oratory. Even his worst detractors would readily agree Kenny Anthony was a breed apart from the rest of the herd—if only because George Odlum said he was—and not necessarily because of his thoroughbred dimensions.
If on the occasion his prelusion offered hints of what was to come, only after he had resumed his chair would it be possible even to speculate about his targets and his motivations. His left hand tugging on his corresponding ear lobe, he warned the Speaker that this time around he would be “rather eclectic.” He had also decided to speak “without a unifying theme.” Reminiscent of a cock crowing, he raised his head, lowered his hand gently to massage his neck, a knowing smirk lighting up his countenance.
“I have opted to roam far and wide, to meander here and there,” he bellowed. “So, if there is no thematic coherence in what I say, it’s only because of the approach I have decided to adopt on this occasion. There is a common saying, Mr. Speaker, that nothing happens before its time. These are very simple words, but in my view they really are profound words of wisdom. Words of advice.”
The emphasis he placed on the last word of the preceding sentence recalled earlier House sessions, especially when the tabled motion raised constitutional questions. He went on, hands now buried in the trousers of what appeared under the unfiltered House lights to be a charcoal gray two-piece suit, but may well have been baby blue: “Perhaps no other undertaking than that of public life should always take those words into consideration.”
Did the former school principal perchance mean to say people in public life should always remember nothing happens before its time? Arms outstretched like a condor on the wing, the three-times prime minister set his sights on the distant past. Something in his tone hinted darkly at stars unaligned: “Sometimes, as politicians, we fail because our timing was wrong. Sometimes we succeed when we least expected to succeed. And really a lot has to do with that iron rule that nothing happens before its time. It means that if the timing and circumstances are not right, then our plans, whatever they may be, will not materialize, no matter how sincere or noble our instincts or intentions. In fact, Mr. Speaker, that may well explain why certain politicians are ahead of their time.”
You will have noticed, dear reader, the total disconnect between the back-bencher’s somewhat messianic oration and the day’s Order Paper. Had he been anyone else, the leader of the House opposition, for instance, the Speaker would’ve been quick to remind him that his notions about why some politicians rise or fail had little to do with the Appropriations bill. But this was Kenny Anthony. Standing Orders be damned, he had served early notice that what he had chosen to say on the particular occasion would be “eclectic,” would take him down meandering gullies and ravines far and wide.
Rules did not necessarily apply to the 73-year-old “statesman”—who shares the same birthday as Elvis—whose party controls in parliament fifteen of the seventeen seats, including two members who were elected as “independents” yet are ministers in the prime minister’s Cabinet. Then there is the unquestionably loyal Speaker. He had famously bragged on TV about his intolerance of critics of the St. Lucia Labour Party, and how far he was prepared to go to shut them up. Reminiscent of the legendary Lola, in Saint Lucia’s parliament whatever Kenny wants Kenny gets. Or so followers of local politics have good reason to believe!
On the subject of the Appropriations Bill, he had chosen to meander, and meander he would. He spoke of a “political conjunction”—in his telling, “a term political scientists often use, that speaks of the balance of political forces, the mood, sentiment and prevailing thinking of the electorate,” and it was for the skilled politician to know precisely when, so to say, Jupiter aligned with Mars. It was that understanding, he emphasized, that allowed politicians to exercise judgment as to “whether to pursue or not to pursue, whether to implement what may have been established before, whether the chances of success are good or whether failure still attends the process.”
On the other hand, Einstein advised that “nothing happens until something moves.” His point being that you can’t just think about something and expect it to happen. You need to take specific action for it to materialize. Not depend on the mood of the day or phases of the moon. In more recent times, Mark Zuckerberg had said something similar: “Ideas don’t come out fully formed. They become clearer only as you work. The path to success is to take massive determined actions.” Let us return now to the Appropriations Bill and Kenny Anthony, who is still on his feet, trying as best he can to imbue a favorite common saying—parler de rue—with unassailable wisdom and deep profundity: “Nothing happens before its time.”
He is revisiting a period in 1980 when, as a young minister designate at the Ministry of Education, he had decided with organizers to move the long-established carnival date from February to July. “What a torrid time it was,” he grimaced. “I was accused of being a Communist, a wolf in sheep clothing. The church hierarchy was on my back. They claimed I was interfering with normal church practice by preventing the faithful from observing Ash Wednesday. All kinds of calumny were hurled at me.”
But he lived to see the day the organizers returned the date of carnival to July, “this time without the usual conflict, without the usual disagreements.” His message was that “when we first attempted to do it, we did not judge the circumstances right. Or to put it another way, it was simply the wrong time to embark on the initiative. In my quiet moments I reflect on those things and have come to realize there is a golden lesson in all of this, that we must never give up on what we believe. Sometimes we have to beat the drums of retreat, take a step backwards and wait for the right opportunity.”
How could it have been “the wrong time to embark on the initiative” when by his own account his first attempt to change the status quo in 1980 had been successful? There had been no need to retreat, to take steps backward, to beat drums. That there may have been some faith-based opposition should have been anticipated, this being a largely Catholic country. Certainly such puny resistance as he may have encountered was never worthy of caustic comment in parliament, let alone some forty years later. What exactly were the “circumstances” in 1980 that continue to rip at Kenny Anthony’s heart during his Appropriations Bill presentation? It is hardly surprising that the back-bencher chose not to elaborate. But history will not be gagged. The undeniable truth is that the period 1979-82 was arguably the worst of times for Saint Lucians, even for the most faithful supporters of Allen Louisy’s Labour government, in which Anthony served as education minister. Suffice it to say the beleaguered administration was finally forced out of office when it had barely served half of its five-year term.
It was during this chaotic period, less than two weeks after the Labour Party won the 1979 general elections, that William Peter Boulevard was transfigured into an open sewer by professional haters of John Compton, when leading members of his defeated United Workers Party came under heavy attack by stoned stone-throwers. The city’s then commercial center was reduced to a mess of shattered glass, rubble and mephitic human feces. There was not a single arrest, the police having been ordered to stay away. We need not go into what happened in parliament that saw Speaker Donald Alcee running for his life out of the chamber. In all events, as the UWP had done with the new carnival date upon being returned to office in 1982, so the Labour Party under Kenny Anthony did when elected to office in 1997 with a 16-1 mandate: they reset the date of carnival once more to July.
He offered another memory, conceivably further proof that “nothing happens before its time.” He recalled that shortly after assuming power in 1997, his government had undertaken “a major overall of Saint Lucia’s personal income tax regime.” Like a naughty schoolgirl, he placed a loosely clenched fist over his mouth, as if to conceal a mischievous smile. Why? “Because,” said Anthony, “we had one of the most backward pieces of tax legislation in Saint Lucia.” He remembered his then foreign affairs minister George Odlum had called him “from some distant land, something that normally he never did,” just to tell him he’d received word from reliable sources at home that the government was facing a rebellion over its proposed tax legislation. He had explained to the late notoriously peripatetic Odlum that what had been put before the public for its consideration was no more than a draft to be reviewed by stakeholders in the best interests of a reformed tax regime. “All to no avail,” recalled Kenny Anthony. “The talk shows were loud. The attacks and the onslaught unimaginable. And so, the government had to withdraw.”
If he comes across as the incurable victim of a persecution complex, the blame must fall on the shoulders of Kenny Anthony. For most of his political life he has taken criticism of his policies as personal attacks. The church hierarchy had labeled him a Communist and tossed at him several insults when all he wanted was what’s best for the nation’s calypsonians and followers of carnival. When another day’s issue centered on abortion, the church refused to compromise. Now, he revisited the demeaning public criticism that had greeted the announcement of his government’s tax-reform proposals twenty-something years ago. The flies in the ointment were the widely respected late former head of Inland Revenue and the host of the televised program TALK!
This is what the day’s prime minister told the nation during a House address in April of 2001: “I too scream at television sets when I hear lies and untruths that I cannot immediately respond to. I feel the hurt. Some of it is actually unworthy of response. But I do have great respect for Mr. Jeffrey Stewart.” He had also heard the “very distinguished permanent secretary” who accompanied Stewart on the earlier mentioned TALK. “He knew what he was talking about.”
Which is not to say he thought Stewart was at sea on the subject. On the contrary, the prime minister confessed great admiration for the tax guru. Nevertheless, “there was fallacy in his argument” that everybody, regardless of income, pays taxes, however indirectly. The fallacy lay in the assumption that reductions in individual tax rates result in increase in revenue collection. Anthony insisted that was just not correct. Moreover, some of Stewart’s intended supportive arguments actually did the opposite. As he had himself recalled, under much generated public pressure, he had withdrawn his draft tax bill. Ah, but most of his suggestions, so strongly resisted several years ago, had proved acceptable to the public, save by the middle class professionals, “imperfect as they may be.” More proof that nothing happens before its time. He repeated his earlier advice that politicians should always look at the balance of the forces, the mood of the people, the sentiments, to pass judgment on whether to take one step forward or two steps backward and wait for the right moment. Vindication in politics is rare, he said. The particularly painful part was that “vindication often comes long after the event, when the damage has been done . . .” by which time the politician will be “on the rocking chair of retirement.”
At last he referred directly to the Appropriations Bills, to a section announcing a minimum livable wage for Saint Lucia’s workers by August 1st 2024. “This is good news,” he said, “particularly for those who work for private security firms, gas stations, small restaurants and in-between services. Of course, those involved in medium-sized businesses will welcome, I’m sure, whatever adjustments will have to be made but we shall see how it plays out in the final analysis.” He revealed that whenever he was out shopping at a supermarket or at a gas station, inevitably he was confronted by workers with questions pertaining to the issue of minimum wage. It was pleasing, he acknowledged, that it was a Labour government taking this step because of its “unmatched record of addressing the needs of workers.” He applauded the finance minister who, in his introductory speech, had revisited the history of the Labour Party’s original leader George F.L. Charles. Anthony, too, had been drawn into the picture. After all, it was under his leadership that the government had produced the Labour Code in 1997.
As he put it, “In truth, a Labour government enacted minimum wage legislation as far back as 1999 . . . Two provisions of the act were repealed and absorbed into the Labour Code, two sections of which were quoted by the minister of finance.” Another instance of a leader ahead of his time? This from the April 23, 2007 Hansard—contributed by Kenny Anthony, as Leader of the Opposition. He is referencing a published statement by the recently reelected prime minister, Sir John Compton: ‘We must raise the level of the self-worth of our vulnerable people. In this fiscal year, this [UWP] administration will therefore undertake the necessary research with a view to introducing minimum wage legislation.’ “Clearly, whoever wrote this budget is unaware that there is new minimum wage legislation,” Anthony had observed. “The issue is not enactment of minimum legislation. What needs to be clarified is whether the prime minister intends to abandon the existing minimum wage legislation and proceed to enact new minimum wage legislation.” No explanation was given for the 1999 government’s failure to follow through, having enacted the appropriate enabling law.
So, here we are in 2024. Despite that he had applauded the prime minister’s initiative on behalf of local workers Kenny Anthony is evidently unconvinced they will have a minimum wage any time soon. At any rate on the promised date. Hear him again on April 25: “The job of administering this new minimum wage will be that of the Labour Department. The question is: Will the department be able to cope with the complaints and queries that are bound to arise? They are at this time simply overwhelmed. Numerous decisions, both at the level of the Labour Commissioner and the tribunal, are outstanding.”
He said he knew of complaints made two years ago that remain unaddressed. Also, adjudications by the commissioner. The government was to blame, he admitted. At the time they enacted the Labour Code, it had not occurred to them that more trained staff would become necessary. Not until now, as he addressed the minimum wage issue, did it strike him that “we inadvertently transformed the commissioner into a first-instance judge,” with its accompanying demands. In the meantime, well, “adjustments will have to be made.”
Was all of that, the dizzying meandering, the heady eclectic pronouncements, the fulsome praise, the unctuous acknowledgements and recalled crucifixions, Kenny Anthony’s way of reminding the nation it had never given this Jack his jacket? That his countless contributions as an educator, a unionist and prime minister had all gone largely unappreciated? Was his star appearance in parliament on April 25 associated with personal matters unrelated to the day’s session? Was his intention to underscore his secret belief that whatever his former deputy, now prime minister, had done since 2021, whatever his legacy might say of his future accomplishments in office, all of it was thanks to Kenny Anthony—who had built roads and footpaths where earlier there had been only impassable rock and bush—who was always ahead of his time? Kenny Anthony, who for most of his years as prime minister was humiliated, underestimated, misunderstood, unloved and savaged, even by the church? We may speculate. Doubtless we’ll all know for certain what were his true motives during the April 25 House debate—when the time is right!
