It turns out Einstein did not define insanity as “doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” An authoritative compilation of the Nobel winner’s famous quotes reveals that the line has also been attributed to different sources, among them Mark Twain, an old Chinese proverb, Benjamin Franklin and the novelist Rita Mae Brown. Meanwhile esteemed scholars insist Einstein was too smart to have defined the scope of insanity in such narrow terms, that it probably originated with someone like Dr. Silkwood or Bill Wilson of Alcoholics Anonymous back in the 1930s. On the other hand Einstein is umbilically tied to the observation that problems are seldom solved by the same thinking that created them.
The legendary discoverer of the law of photoelectric effect came to mind this week as I took in a replay of Philip J. Pierre’s televised address before the Labour Party’s conference of delegates last Sunday. I thought too of Donald Trump and recalled reading somewhere that you never really know what’s in a man’s head until he opens his mouth and lets it out. To be altogether truthful, Allen Chastanet did also cross my mind. But it was the advice of Quintus to his brother Cicero during his campaign for the post of Consul of Rome that stayed with me. Wrote Quintus in a pamphlet: “Dear Marcus, you have many wonderful qualities but those you lack you must acquire, and it must appear as if you were born to them.”
Quintus further advised: “Promise everything to everyone. The best way to win voters is to tell them what they want to hear. Call in favors. If someone is not in your debt, remind him that if elected you can reward him later. Know your opponent’s weaknesses—and exploit them. A winning candidate calmly assesses his opponent and then focuses relentlessly on his weaknesses, all the while trying to distract voters from his strengths. Flatter voters shamelessly. You desperately need to learn the art of flattery, a disgraceful thing in normal life but essential when you are running for office. A candidate must make voters believe that he thinks they’re important. Give people hope. Voters who feel you can make their world better will be your most devoted followers—at least until after the elections when, inevitably, you will let them down.”
I’ve known Philip J. Pierre a very long time; from his earliest days with Julian Hunte as leader of the party Pierre now fronts. For two years or so we sat shoulder to shoulder as opposition senators. That we are no longer quite as tight, in consequence of my big fall-out with his former leader, does not mean Philip and I no longer communicate. We both know well the difference between opponents and enemies. But then I also know firsthand the inside pressures that prevent politicians from being friendly toward critics of their party. I still consider Pip my friend.
And, yes, we do engage in wide-ranging conversation though not on as regular a basis as in the years preceding 2003.
I know better than to ask him certain questions. Or to expect him to volunteer inside information that I might possibly use at his party’s expense—a situation not without its funny side, considering my sense of recall and my intimate knowledge of the SLP’s leading characters, to say nothing of where the skeletons lie. I often tease Philip about his public statements, which he usually handles with a sense of humor. I should also add that he never misses an opportunity to chastise me for—by his measure— “supporting people who do not have the country’s best interests at heart; who are vindictive; who care only about themselves.”
The Pip I knew back in the day when we hung out with Hilary Modeste, Percy Montoute, Eden Hinkson and Irving Reid would have a hard time recognizing the 2019 Philip J. Pierre. The earlier version was unwaveringly optimistic about the future of our country. And, yes, he was always ambitious. At any rate, quietly as opposed to secretly. He truly believed he could help make a difference, however small. This is how I wrote about the Pip I used to know and for whom I had campaigned assiduously at the time of the 1997 general elections.
The big moment finally had arrived; the results were in. Philip J. Pierre, the candidate on whom the Labour Party had been reluctant to “waste money we don’t have,” had pulled through, beaten the perceived near immovable Castries East fixture. The following remembrance is taken from my book Lapses & infelicities:
“I bumped into Philip leaning all alone against someone’s fence a few hundred yards from a polling station.
The look on his face was anything but triumphal. The last time we were together he had been so excited, so confident of victory he could barely wait for Polling Day. On that occasion, his final constituency rally, traffic—vehicular and pedestrian—was rendered near impossible, thanks to the parked cars, the countless red-shirted well wishers and others too young to vote but unable to resist the opportunity to set eyes on the main attraction; to soak up the vibe.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, quite concerned.
He shrugged, his eyes close to lifeless. “Oh, I’m okay,” he said. “Everything’s good.”
And I said: “So why are you looking like death? Why aren’t you jumping for joy? You know you wiped out Lansie, right?”
Eyes staring blankly ahead, his reaction was barely audible from two feet away: “So they tell me. You never know for sure until the recount!”
All of that when already it was common knowledge he had destroyed Romanus Lansiquot by 2000 votes and emerged the election’s most successful candidate. Insecurity? Humility? Who the hell knew!
Listening to his speech delivered last Sunday in Marigot, I wondered who could possibly have written it. It certainly did not sound like something from the heart of Philip J. Pierre. His actions, the obligatory waving to a crowd that included the openly disgruntled Alva Baptiste, recently shoved aside to accommodate Ernest Hilaire as first deputy leader—and the old alligator Kenny Anthony—were wooden, to say the least. Only Pierre knows for certain how he felt when he officially announced the presence of the man he had replaced as party leader.
The reaction from the audience had to have reminded Pierre of the newly unretired 2005 John Compton, when in the middle of Vaughan Lewis’ speech at their party’s conference of delegates, he strode in with his beaming entourage in tow. Such was the ovation given Compton that poor Vaughan was forced to step aside for several minutes until the noise subsided.
As for the several refried promises from Pierre should his party manage to do to Allen Chastanet this time around what it could not do under Kenny Anthony’s leadership in 2016: He said he would immediately take care of the long neglected youth, regardless where the necessary finances had to be sourced; set up an anti-corruption committee; put money in the empty pockets of our younger citizens and hand them jobs they’ll enjoy; He would also restore healthcare. I could not help wondering if I alone was in the dark as to why none of Pierre’s promises were delivered in the three terms his party served as this country’s government, and why there had never been a related resolution, a motion, a bill while Labour was in opposition.
Was Pierre’s disastrous no-confidence motion, not to mention Ernest Hilaire’s more recent resolution, more important than the youth, healthcare for the especially poor and sick blahblahblah? But I’ve run out of space, dear reader. In the months ahead it will be interesting to observe the evolution of Pierre the Leader . . . whether he’ll follow his heart or continue to mouth the words of others far less committed to his cause than their own, to say nothing of their literary talents. Already the muffled old rumblings from within are growing louder . . .!
