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Is
Derek Walcott playing
the
class card?
by Nicholas Joseph
In
a democracy an individual is free to express himself in the manner
and place he so chooses. He has a right to speak out on matters of
national, social and political importance. Many individuals have
used that right for the edification of mankind, while others have
used it to pursue a narrow self-centered agenda. Still there are
those who are circumspect and sensitive with the words they speak,
forever mindful that words can be injurious to people and countries.
They can uplift an entire class of people or demoralize an entire
generation.
St. Lucia’s Nobel Laureate Derek
Walcott has earned more than his spurs to be critical of any group
of individuals. As the acclaimed winner of the 1992 Nobel Prize for
Literature, Mr. Walcott is more blessed than numerous other writers
and individuals who yearn to walk in his proverbial big shoes. By
his stature, Walcott carries a profound responsibility to
demonstrate that the baggage of colonialism, slavery and ideology
should never be used as excuses for inaction and a lack of
accomplishment.
It is disheartening that as the
featured speaker at the annual two-day Mona Academic Conference at
UWI’s Jamaica campus recently, Walcott took the liberty of the
privilege afforded him to make what appears to be a disparaging
remark about “the man in the street.” By Walcott’s lofty
standards, he told the gathering of exclusively featured Caribbean
writers, all of whom were UWI graduates or lecturers: “I’m not a
man of the people. I don’t follow any fake socialist ideology.”
Still on his high and mighty perch he went on: “The guy in the
street doesn’t read and doesn’t care.” Walcott noted that all
the talk about the neglect of the intellectual or the popular
entertainer was self-pity or even aggression. He observed that in
conferences like these, Caribbean writers carried themselves
differently from writers in other countries, who were more pompous
and superior about being writers.
Shortly thereafter, during the
question and answer period, an elderly Chinese-Jamaican went to the
microphone and said, “I have never read any of your work,”
reportedly, after the laughter died down, Walcott lashed out, “I
think it’s only in the Caribbean somebody would get up and say
that.” As I pondered Walcott’s condescending remarks with its
stench of arrogance it dawned on me that his good friend, George
Odlum (deceased) would never have made such statements. George Odlum,
an Oxford graduate, never wore his qualifications on his sleeves. He
was not puffed up with an inflated self importance. Unlike, Walcott
he championed the causes of the dispossessed, like the banana
workers. Odlum was at pains to instill in his comrades that “any
education that does not ground you to ordinary people is not worth
having.” Odlum reminded us almost daily that a proper education is
an instrumentality of humility and meekness. Obviously, this is a
valuable lesson Walcott failed to learn. Ironically, Walcott is a
by-product of very humble beginnings. No matter how much higher
education a man has, noted American author Allan Bloom, it does not
teach him about the conduct of life, how to deal with people, women
or family matters.
Of course, Walcott in his obnoxious
attempt to cast aspersions on the questioner, and by extension
Caribbean people in general, paid scant regard to the fact that, by
virtue of him being in the audience, the old gentleman was himself
an accomplished writer or lecturer. By his measure, you may be an
avid reader and a person of literature, but damn you if you have not
read his books. Who is Walcott to assume that god-like posture and
condemn others simply because they have not read his books? Where
did that unadulterated pomposity came from?
When Walcott claimed that “I am
not a man of the people” is he reinstating an ancient class
structure, which was at one time the evil of those undeveloped
countries? As a young boy growing up in the Caribbean, Walcott would
have been schooled by his parents of the dark days in St. Lucia’s
history when there were segregated seats at the Roman Catholic
Church, reserved for a certain class of people. Those dreadful and
dark days when only rich land owners were able to vote. It took
adult suffrage and the blood of our ancestors to guarantee all that
sacred alienable right.
To suggest that Caribbean writers
must lord it over the moon and carry themselves pompously is to
promote a kind of modern day colonial mental conditioning. It is
indeed a retrogressive and egotistic pronouncement that clouds the
thinking of a man who by dint of his enormous achievement should be
a standard bearer for the guy in the street. The “guy in the
street,” according to Walcott’s demeaning terminology, should
find in him a wellspring of inspiration that can serve to catapult
him to greater glory. The “guy in the street,” should find in
Walcott’s pronouncement the encouragement that has been denied to
him by a society that may have been responsible for his lot in life.
“The guy in the street,” who may have gotten there because he
lacks the funding to complete his education at college and
university should view Walcott as a stepping stone. Walcott’s “guy
in the street,” may sadly have gotten there because capitalist
countries ensure that the cost of higher education is prohibitive,
denying many an opportunity, thereby creating Walcott’s “guy in
the street.”
It’s indeed shameful, that
Walcott, to whom much has been given and of whom much is required,
has chosen to play the class card. Contrary to Walcott’s character
assassination, I know of many guys in the street that are well read.
They are bus drivers, painters, hotel workers, masons, carpenters
and banana farmers who just never got the opportunity that Walcott
did. If only they had his chance and break in life, they could
easily have been standing in the hallowed halls of UWI. The
difference is that they may have delivered a totally different
message for the edification of the masses.
Adam Kirsch in a review of Walcott’s
‘The Prodigal,’ in Slate Magazine saw the writer as conflicted:
“But in his late work the opposition between empire and province—and,
inevitably, between black and white—has become more complicated
and ambiguous.” Perhaps it is this frustration that Walcott
demonstrated at his recent speech. Whatever the reason for his
insensitivity and apparent uptight mentality, there is no excuse to
bad mouth an entire region as people who do not read.
Finally, the renaming of Columbus
Square to Derek Walcott Square in his native country, St. Lucia,
ushered in an opportunity to put the devastating legacy of
colonialism in the past. Unfortunately, Walcott’s remarks at UWI
have opened up old wounds and the “guy in the street” will
forever see his monument in a different light.
Nicholas Joseph is the 1996 Caribbean Media Award Winner for best
Editorial, Commentary, and Analysis. Send your comments to
nicholasjoseph@charter.net
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