More of the same-old

It’s 2019. Conversations in the public domain are swinging round to elections, which are coming in two years. (Is it coincidental that conversations in the American public domain are doing the same?) But the conversations are more of the same-old same-old: who makes the best leader, who we want to elect. Who, who, who.

There are too few conversations about what we need as a nation if we hope to grow any further in the twenty-first century. Because the truth is, we are not growing. Our nation is floundering. And the only solutions politicians seem to be able to offer are weights to help us sink to the sea-bottom faster, not life rafts or under-the-seat flotation devices or even, heaven forfend, entirely new ships headed in entirely new directions.

But that is what we need.

In virtually every area we can measure, The Bahamas is objectively faring worse. Wait—I can hear the protests now. We are modestly performing better on international economic lists. We are complying with rich countries’ desires for smaller, poorer countries. We are scrambling to join international organisations which were set up to benefit the wealthy at the expense of the poor, which, arguably, encourage the creation of poverty in order to simultaneously create wealth. In other words, looking at some internationally-sourced standards of measurement, we are “doing better” as a nation. Our numbers, they tell us, are headed in the right direction; our laws are more palatable to those nations who would prefer to keep their wealth in their own hands rather than sharing it across borders.

But when it comes to the lives of Bahamians?

Our cost of living has gone up.

Our standard of living has gone down.

Our tourism product is faltering, badly, even though no one will admit it.

Where our tourism product is holding its own (large New Providence resorts and small foreign concerns across the Family Islands), most of the gross revenue leaves the country. Experts estimate that 70% of every dollar earned by tourism is banked overseas.

What good are “jobs” when we are working on plantations whose profits are sent far, far away?

Bahamians are caught in a stranglehold of expense that prohibits our ever being able to become internationally competitive, even as we tremble on the edge of entering global free trade agreements that will open up our economy to be despoiled still further by the rapacious of the world.

And the only solutions our politicians can conceive to offer us are higher/more taxes, fewer services, and more competition from corporations whose home countries support their efforts through incentives, tax breaks, and free trade agreements that work in their favour but not in ours.

*

Two years ago, in deciding not to cast a vote for any political party or candidate in my constituency, my partners and I were vilified by people who felt we were, I don’t know, betraying the democratic process/opting out of creating change/supporting wrongdoing in the highest circles. In response, we stated that we had no confidence that anything we did, any vote we cast, would change the direction of The Bahamas in any positive way. Voting against bad policy is not a solution; it enables the election of the incompetent, the intellectually bankrupt, the politically hollow. And the result of the palpable anger against the bad governance of 2012-2017 was the election of a house of assembly that might, in the absence of concrete ideas of how to change the Bahamas’ fortunes, be open to any and every suggestion from external actors, and which could, given the tiny opposition in parliament, be in a position to do virtually anything at all.

Which is where we find ourselves today.

It does not matter who sits in government.

It matters what their plans are to change the course of our nation.

So, as we begin our conversations, and, hell, as we begin to see rallies and have closed-door meetings about the teams we might build that could win the next election, we need to start having conversations that are not partisan in nature, but that are clearly about policy. That talk about how we go about building a better country.

What solutions do we need to craft if we are not to slide rapidly into the maelstrom that is the general Caribbean economy?

In what, or whom, do we need to invest (while we still have the resources) to ensure that the wealth that we possessed for the fifty years between 1945 and 2005—in part by design and in part by accident—bears fruit and continues to benefit the Bahamian citizenry?

How do we avoid the disaster that is, to my mind, clearly around the corner—the disaster that recreates the economy of the colony of the Bahama Islands that existed until the 1950s and 1960s, where a few people (a tiny, interconnected oligarchy) amass all the wealth and all the power, and the rest serve as an underpaid, under-served, unhealthy workforce?

How do we leverage the advantages our nation has to make us into a Botswana of the Atlantic, rather than a nation in which wealth (almost always foreign) is our only criteria for success?

Because here’s the thing. If we are not having these conversations, or demanding them from the people who seek our votes two years from now, then what, what is our vote really for?

Independence, Culture, Identity: power, neglect and disrespect

The punchline

I'll tell you a sick joke. All my adult life, I've been a taxpayer and a law-abiding citizen, and all my adult life, the things that mean the most to me—knowledge, intellectual curiosity, and creative endeavour—have had no place in the society our politicians have assembled.A year and a half ago, I had a personal encounter that promised something different. I ran into the man who is now the Prime Minister, and he announced, as his manifesto did before that moment and as his maiden speech did after, that a Bahamian government would at long last take our culture seriously enough to give it an agency of its own. A stand-alone ministry, he promised. My response? I laughed. I've heard it all before.Turn back the clock to February 2006. There is a cultural conclave going on, a gathering of the Bahamian cultural community to discuss two main things: the preparation of the National Cultural Policy and the hosting of CARIFESTA X in The Bahamas. The culmination of this event is a speech given by the sitting prime minister, who announces two things: a cabinet shuffle, by which he will become the substantive minister of culture, and by which culture will be moved into the Office of the Prime Minister preliminary to the creation of a—you guessed it—standalone ministry of culture.And so the cultural affairs division moved, in name and in person, out of the top-floor offices on Thompson Boulevard. There was no place initially to which to move; the officers and staff of the division were given a day to pack up and leave, but had nowhere to go. Eventually, after some nomadism, we ended up being housed by the Antiquities, Monuments and Museums Corporation. The excitement of the announcement fizzled out when reality set in, and politics, as it often does, took over the actual service of the actual people. Then, as now, words were said. The reality was something fundamentally different.My response, when Dr. Minnis waxed enthusiastic about the standalone ministry of culture, therefore, was laughter. I knew better than most of the political hopefuls what exactly that promise would mean. I knew, because in 2006, I spent the better part of two months writing minutes, proposals, and draft cabinet papers that would enable the creation of such a standalone ministry to take place.

The problem

The basic problem is this: there is no such thing as a department of culture. The entity that governs Bahamian culture is quite simply a division––a collection of civil servants under a particular unit head served by a director. But the director of cultural affairs is not a substantive director. There is no budget head that is assigned to cultural affairs; the director of culture controls no actual money; all that individual has the authority to do is advise the permanent secretary and the minister on actions that might or might not make sense. In order for any work to get done, the cultural affairs division needs to be housed in a ministry, as it has no accountant, no registry, and no human resources officer assigned to it. Money cannot be released on the director's signature alone; the permanent secretary and sometimes undersecretaries can sign off on budget line items that are assigned to the cultural affairs division without the consent or even the knowledge of the director. I know, because it happened to me often enough. There is no career path for cultural officials, despite the fact that the division is one of the oldest in the government, having been established before independence, in 1972. There is no permanent location for the division, and the achievements of the division have been lost in time, because every time the division is moved somewhere new, its closed files do not travel with it.The road to a standalone ministry is a lengthy one. It requires the creation of an actual department of culture, with a budget head, which is controlled by a substantive director. It requires the creation of an accounts department, a registry, and a human resources department. It requires the identification of permanent offices. It requires the creation of cultural career paths which will allow those individuals who are hired to work in the division the opportunity to gain promotions throughout their careers. It requires thought, and it requires investment. It may require legislation.As I listened to Dr. Minnis, I held this knowledge in my head, along with the equal and opposite knowledge that the history of the Free National Movement has not been kind to culture or cultural activity; indeed, in 1997, the Ministry of Youth, Sports and Culture was disbanded altogether, and the cultural affairs division began its long trek through peculiar ministries, such as Public Service (and Culture).I also held this equal knowledge in my head: that the time for a standalone ministry of culture has long passed. Ministries of culture are a twentieth-century innovation, a holdover from a time when culture was a simple matter of creative expression, something that was relegated to the sidelines of society, and not integrated into the economy at all. Ministries, which are political entities fully funded by the central purse and dependent on it, are not the medium by which most cultural activity is generated or delivered throughout the Caribbean today; most Caribbean nations have created quasi-governmental corporations to manage and develop their culture. So even the idea of a stand-alone ministry of culture is dated, to say the least.

Culture, globally

In the twenty-first century, culture is one of the fastest-growing sectors of the global economy, and ministries of culture are too slow and too heavy with political baggage to meet the needs of the new century. The impact of culture on the economies of all nations goes far beyond the expressionistic today. Creativity is the currency of the digital age. Cultural activity, its gatekeepers swept away by the expansion of the internet, is one of the most resilient and active of all economic sectors. As manufacturing shrinks, culture grows.This is even true in The Bahamas. I would guess, though no studies have yet been comprehensively done, that culture is one of the fastest growing sectors of the Bahamian economy. It is supremely under-recognized and ludicrously under-supported, but that has not stopped a generation of twenty- and thirty-somethings from going into professions that did not exist in The Bahamas for previous generations, like mine. Writers, filmmakers, artists, musicians—these are professions that have traction in our nation despite the complete neglect of the cultural sector by lawmakers and politicians.It is in this economic sector that the greatest potential lies for increasing revenue for our nation. The primary resource required by the cultural industries is human creativity, which is both unique and infinite. Secondary resources (which we do not have) include training centres, schools of the arts, investment, incentives, and proper cultural grants (the $1 million set aside is a pittance in this regard, especially considering the kinds of investments, the millions spent both in concessions and real money on attracting foreigners to set up businesses in this nation).Beyond the economy, cultural activity is critical to human survival. Despite our deeply ingrained belief that culture is something that children can indulge in, but that adults grow out of, despite our assumption that spending one's time in cultural activity is a luxury that many cannot afford, the reality is that to build a strong society requires the investment and support of writers, composers, choreographers, directors, actors, artists. These people are the translators and the creators of individual, community and national identity. In societies where art is not recognized, there can be no greatness, because there is no coherent sense of self. And we live in a society where, forty-five years after independence, we still have no national library, no national museum, no school for the arts. Need I go on?

Despite it all

But despite this all, the Bahamian cultural community, like the global cultural community, is growing. What's more: it is vocal, it is conscious, and it is fierce. It stands against the traditional xenophobia and misogyny of our society; many of our most outspoken activists are also creative workers in one realm or another. Bahamian art, plays, film and music do not accept the local status quo, and challenge long-held prejudices and habits. They make many feel uncomfortable. Discomfort is often a prelude to necessary change.And so. Promises notwithstanding, there is no standalone ministry of culture, outdated as that concept may be. Instead, the agency that does exist is now headed by a lawyer who has, as far as I know, no knowledge of or connection to the cultural community of The Bahamas (or, for that matter, to the sports community either. I cannot speak for youth).And the media is complicit. As it announces that for the first time our country has a female minister of youth, sports and culture, it lets pass the equally historic fact that for a year, for the first time, we in the cultural community had one of our own, a professional poet, writer, and actor, to serve us. The media speaks about sports, but neglects to consider the power of culture, both here and abroad, and fails to analyze the message that this cabinet shuffle has sent, loud and clear, to the Bahamian cultural community.This recent appointment demonstrates a deep disrespect for the cultural community, for Bahamian identity, and for the benefits, economic, social, and human, of investment in creative life.Further, as the appointment occurs the week before we limp into the ceremonies that recognize our 45th anniversary of independence, it reveals an abiding disregard for, and neglect of, the citizenry of this nation as a whole. Nations are built by artists and writers, who capture critical moments for their fellow citizens and translate them beyond the ordinary into forms that inspire reflection, discussion, and change. Nations are built by composers and choreographers who take beauty and turn it into movement or song. They're built by actors and directors, who use the palette of human emotion to reveal to citizens who collectively they are. Artists and cultural workers are the lifeblood of nations. The time is long overdue for us to have appropriate representation at the most powerful table in the land.This appointment? It gives us no such representation. It doesn't provide the cultural community with a potential champion, someone who understands and can fight for us, crafting legislation that builds up our common life, creating programmes and institutions that serve us. Instead, In fact, it's little more than an exercise in power. it shows us all that cabinet posts exist not to serve the citizenry, but to reward allegiance to the leader of the party in power.

Nothing new

The saddest thing of all is that there is nothing new about this disregard. It's not unique at all. It is merely a continuation of our governments' permanent official and political disregard for the core of what is Bahamian.We are masters of dissing our culture. We must be; we vote again and again for people who excel at it. But make no mistake here, my fellow Bahamians. By dissing our culture, we diss our selves.

The Progressive Forum (3)

Here is the presentation I gave at today's Progressive Forum. [wpvideo nELGXa7V ]https://youtu.be/I7xJW6phfEQ

The Progressive Forum (2)

Gowon Bowe's presentation (what I could record of it). Forty-five minutes' worth. Ran out of memory before he was finished.https://youtu.be/00dRJTLbr-Y

The Progressive Forum (1)

Michael Stevenson's presentation at the Progressive Forum.https://youtu.be/EsRMRBw7xmk

Why democracy is more than just casting a vote

There's a common perception in The Bahamas, and perhaps in other parts of the world too, though I can't speak to them, that democracy flourishes during election seasons, when the citizenry is given its chance to elect the people that will govern the nation in ordinary times.

According to this perception, the power of the Bahamian people (in our parliamentary system) is limited to one moment in time, generally falling roughly every five years, when the citizens of the nation indicate their approval or disapproval for the way in which their affairs have been handled by voting for or against the group of people who have handled those affairs. Once that moment has passed, though, the people's power subsides, and the elected officials assume it.

But that is not all there is to democracy. Not at all.

What democracy is

The idea of "democracy"—at least the idea that the western world holds about democracy—is said to have originated in Ancient Greece, in Athens. Rather than being ruled by a monarch or an aristocracy, the government consisted of the Athenian citizens themselves. These citizens would gather in public spaces to discuss the affairs of the city-state, and vote directly on important matters.But that was ancient times, and only a handful of people living in Athens were considered "citizens": men who owned land. This limited the government to a small group of people who had decision-making power, and excluded from this process were women, servants, people who owned no land, and slaves.

Later manifestations of democracy, those that found their expressions in the Americas, initially adopted this model. But this was expanded in the nineteenth century to include all free male citizens of a particular nation-state, and then in the twentieth to include women as well. By the time we entered the twenty-first century, the idea of "democracy" included the right of all citizens of a nation-state to have some say—usually through voting for representatives—in their government.

So we can say that what we understand democracy to be is government of the people by the people. How that actually works itself out, though, is a matter of some difference the world over.Here in The Bahamas, it's worth thinking about the way we have so far engaged in the process, and it's time to ask ourselves whether the democracy we have become used to—casting a vote every five years—is still meeting our needs today.

Bahamian democracy—direct or representative?

What we practice here is representative democracy, a form of democracy which depends on the sovereign (i.e. the citizens) choosing individuals to represent their wider concerns in a place of government. The election of those individuals is a matter of trusting them to work not only for the general good but also in the interest of those people they represent.

This is a different form of democracy from that practised in ancient Greece or in ancient Africa, or even in Switzerland until the twentieth century. In those societies, democracy was direct: citizens gathered in public spaces to vote on matters that pertained to them.

Direct democracy works well in situations where the society is relatively small, where issues can be brought before town meetings and discussed by the populace, or where democracy is limited to certain sectors of the population—say land-owners, or men, or members of a certain race or class.

Representative democracy works better when populations grow too large for individual citizens to have a useful perspective of the needs of the whole society. It also is useful in situations where a minority of citizens have the education, the means, or the information to comprehend the bigger picture. It is a very practical way of running a society. Good government, after all, is time-consuming and requires a lot of effort.

The benefits of representative democracy

When populations grow too big and issues are pressing, every challenge cannot logistically be brought before every citizen to be voted upon. Further, ordinary citizens tend to be driven primarily by their own self-interest, and are not in the habit of considering the common good, especially where that common good might infringe upon their own needs or desires.

Take the question of New Providence traffic, for example. The source of the problem is simple: there are too many cars on the island. The solution is also simple: to reduce the number of cars on our roads in one way or another—by restricting the number of cars that can be imported, or by limiting the number of cars that a household can own, or by creating an efficient public transportation system that makes it unnecessary for individuals to have to drive everywhere.But which individual is likely to opt for any of these solutions? Some of us may voluntarily choose to limit ourselves to one car per household, but the probability that all of us will do so is slim. In a case where we voted directly on this issue, most people would probably choose to benefit themselves and their families and ignore the common good.In this situation, representative government is a valid option. Individuals are elected to take the difficult decisions on behalf of the state as a whole. And by voting for those individuals, most citizens agree to have a single person represent them at the decision-making levels in society.

The dangers of representative democracy

The issue facing us now in The Bahamas is that our governments are only as good as the people who represent their constituents. Our form of representative government is not very extensive. In a country of 400,000 odd people, we have the equivalent of one representative for every 1,000 citizens. This representative is expected to do many things: serve as members of the cabinet, chairs of government agencies, legislators, and representatives of their constituencies. They are expected to handle the most mundane annoyances—like the collection of trash and repair of potholes—as well as national and international issues, like foreign investors' project proposals and avoiding financial downgrades.

Unfortunately, the majority of representatives that we elect are ill prepared for these responsibilities. Our system of government is also poorly structured to meet the needs of the twenty-first century. The fact that we have only one single tier of government—people who serve at the national level—is also a drawback. It does not allow people who wish to serve their nation to gain experience in thinking and planning collectively, with the result that bad decisions are routinely made.

Our system is also overly partisan. In the normal scheme of things, the citizenry is given a say only at election time, and the ordinary citizen has no say over the people who are brought before them to elect. The vast majority of these individuals are selected by political parties in closed-door sessions with no public oversight and no accountability to the citizenry. Candidates are presented to the electorate in a take-it-or-leave-it manner, in the confidence that the electorate will simply vote along party lines.

Once elected, the MPs are no longer accountable to the people who elected them. There is nothing compelling them to keep their constituents informed about the legislation that comes before them as MPs; they are not obliged to consult with the people they purport to represent before voting on any particular matter. Indeed, their primary loyalty is expected to be to their political party, not to the citizens they represent. What this creates is an oligarchy rather than a democracy, and defeats the principle of government for and by the people. What we get instead is government for and by the party, a distortion of the very idea of democracy.

We need a new approach

The democracy that we practice here in The Bahamas, this voting for people who represent parties, not the citizenry, is not serving us well. The people we send to the House of Parliament are not our representatives at all. They are not there to serve us. They are there to serve their political parties, and we, the citizens, have no say within those entities unless we decide to declare an affiliation with one or the other, become an active member, and get to a place where we can vote for prospective candidates. But this state of affairs defeats the purpose of one person, one vote. Those people who choose the candidates do so behind closed doors, and are not accountable to the citizenry for that vote. The citizens, on the other hand, are at their mercy when they are faced with their choices at election time.

So what can we do about it?

Democracy: more than just casting a vote

In the first place, we have to get past this idea that democracy is something that happens once every five years. We have to get beyond the concept that the people we send to the House of Assembly are our "leaders", and remember they are our representatives. We have to start exercising the rights that are guaranteed us in our constitution, namely the freedoms of conscience (to believe what we want to believe), of expression (to say what we think) and of assembly (to gather together in large groups) to make our voices heard. When we are not happy with the way in which we are being represented, we have the right—indeed, because this is a democracy, we have the duty—to let our representatives know we are not happy. And we have to be prepared to do this whether we have leaders to follow or not.

So when we are unhappy with the way in which our representatives are serving us, we have the right and the duty to say so, and there are many legal channels available to us. There are certain limits on our freedom; we are not guaranteed absolute freedom of expression, for instance, and certain forms of speech, certain things we say—or the way in which we say them—have consequences. But we do have the right to say what we think, and we should. One of the slogans used by the We March movement of 2015-2016 was this: the power of the people is greater than the people in power. We would do well to remember that.

There is one last thing I need to say about democracy. One thing that is intoxicating about the idea that democracy is the government of the people by the people is the sense that it is the majority that makes the critical decisions. I frequently see discussions of democracy lead to this point: that whatever the majority of the people in the nation want is what must happen.But that misses the point of democracy, which is that each individual member of a society is equal to every other individual member. The mob (the unthinking majority, which reacts based on emotional, often selfish, impulses) is not greater than the individual; democracy is an aggregate of individuals. What that means is that in true democracies, the rights of minorities are guarded and protected.

The place of the minority

In our system, which elects people based on a simple majority of votes (the first-past-the-post system), we tend to hold the idea that if a citizen is not part of the mainstream, their rights are not valuable. But this is called the tyranny of the majority, and it is a danger that goes along with democratic systems that rely on the will of the majority. The tyranny of the majority is as dangerous a form of tyranny as any other, and must always be guarded against.It's not easy for individual citizens to think about the rights of others. After all, it's human nature to look out for one's own self-interest and seek to maximize it. But if we believe in democracy, this is a principle to which we must adhere, and it is a practice that we must exercise.

So as we move to hold our representatives accountable, as we move to make them aware of our will, as we move to ensure that they represent the citizens of our nation and not just their political parties or their own personal desires or benefit, we must also remember that the nation is greater than our own individual interests. As co-governors of this state, we have to recognize that we are and must be our neighbours' keepers, and it is our duty to look out not only for ourselves but also for all the others whose rights may have been overlooked because they are not part of the majority.

Democracy is not an easy thing! But it is worthwhile. We must never stop thinking about it, questioning it, and finding ways to expand it. So I challenge you, my fellow Bahamians. What are you doing to make our Bahamian democracy bigger, stronger and better?

Oban, the Glass Window, and other cautionary tales - Part I

Or, why I really spoiled my ballot

Time and rope

There is a great Bahamian saying: time longer dan rope.

A year has passed, a year and a month or so, since #OutDaBox242 began its much-excoriated campaign to raise the profile of voter registration and float the option of not having to choose the best of a bad lot at election time. Well, enough time has passed for the three of us, us three "educated fools", to get to a point where we are trying really hard not to say those four fatal words.It's not been a full year since the incredible landslide, but we are already realizing that the euphoria of getting rid of the last government does not compensate for what the new government lacks. And we are also well aware of the danger of the kind of majority that we put in the house of assembly. By changing the faces in that institution, we have made no real change at all. The prime minister still possesses far too much power that is good for any man. The government is far too strong and far too able to make bad decisions with virtually no check on its power in the house of assembly. The speaker has already abused his authority and abased his position in doing so. The minister of finance is still talking about the excesses of the previous government and why we can't get out from under. The minister of immigration and the attorney-general are now antagonists to freedom fighters that they were once allied with. Go find a newspaper from 2013, substitute names and faces, and see what, if anything, has changed.

I am hoping that enough time has passed for the emotionalism that blazed around the last election to have worn off to allow me to explain why I really spoiled my ballot––and why I shall continue to do so until we change the way we approach democracy in this nation we are trying to shape.

Where's the vision?

I cannot speak for my partners in crime, those comrades who with me refused to take part in the abortive exercise in non-democracy that occurred in the last general election, but I can speak for myself. My refusal to cast a vote in support of any candidate in my constituency, and hence my refusal to give my support to any political party, was partly motivated by a desire to protest the lack of real choice given to "voters". (It's not a new protest, by the way. Forty years ago, while most Bahamians were rejoicing in the glories of majority rule, Patrick Rahming was expressing the selfsame sentiments in his poem "Power": "vot'n ain' much power / if somebody else guh choose / the choice".)

But other, just as real, reasons I withheld my vote in 2017, and why I will do in 2022 (should we have to wait that long)––and beyond, unless we see fundamental changes in our society between now and then), centre around the following facts.

1. We are a new nation. This is not being said by way of excuse, but by way of fact. Our constitution is 45 years old, and our nationhood is seriously underdeveloped. And nations do not just happen; they must be dreamed up, imagined, crafted.

2. There is no nation-dreaming or crafting going on.

3. The vast majority of people being ratified as political candidates fit into three main categories:

   1. Hoary politicians who have held on grimly and are now awaiting their turns in the limelight and shouldering everyone else out of the way;

   2. Party loyalists or, worse, friends, families and lovers of the hoary and desperate members of category 1;

   3. People who have some deep-seated insecurity of their own, some illusion of grandeur, some outsize concept of themselves, and who find themselves drawn to the perks, prestige, and trappings that parliament can offer them, who like the idea of the blue plate that allows them to do what they want when they want, who wish to get the even bluer plate that comes with a car and a driver and the ability to sweep past the paeons to the top of the drive and have other paeons kiss their feet when they step out.

   (While there are some individuals who offer themselves for public service out of a sense of duty or obligation, who are called to serve, and who are the kinds of people I could support, their value is usually swallowed up by the corruption, the limitations, and the rapaciousness of the former three groups.)

4. There is absolutely no deep thought about who we are, where we are, what The Bahamas is or could be, our strengths, our weaknesses, our advantages, our opportunities, and ways to build a future.

5. There is no policy that is crafted to meet the needs of the late twentieth century, much less the twenty-first.

6. Governments ever since 1992 have given up the idea that Bahamians can or should be architects of their own fate. Instead, they place their faith pathetically in foreign investment, doling out unimaginable concessions to undeserving non-Bahamian prospectors without even understanding what the political and economic philosophy of foreign investment is supposed to achieve.

7. Our leaders stumble from crisis to crisis and grasp the ludicrous, the ridiculous and the illegal as a means to solve our problems––or, perhaps more accurately, to begin to seem to fulfil their vapid election promises.

For the rest of my life, then, I have resolved not to vote for any individual, party, or group that has not done the following things, and demonstrated that they have done them:

1. Articulated what they know about The Bahamas as a whole, as an archipelago, and indicated that they are aware of the critical issues facing us over the next 50 years;

2. Analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of our state and shown that they are able to understand our opportunities and threats;

3. Outlined solutions that are home-grown and rooted in local research, even if they draw on best practices from around the world. After all, we know ourselves best. And if these solutions are all Nassau-centric, they are not solutions;

4. Considered ways in which to stop the leakage of our best minds while we still import cheaper labour from elsewhere. We are a middle-income developing nation, and so we will lose our best while attracting expatriate second-best. Foreign direct investors are not solvers of local problems. They do not invest in other people's countries to build them. They are capitalists who are seeking strong profits. They cannot ever be substitutes for investment in ourselves;

5. Considered how to end the leakage of Bahamian-generated profits to jurisdictions beyond our own;

6. Recognized that New Providence is a toxic environment socially, physically and environmentally and begun crafting solutions to change that fact;

7. Recognized that the other 98% of the Bahamian archipelago is underdeveloped and the source of much of our potential;

8. Come up with educational strategies to prepare Bahamians for their futures that are NOT mirrors or confusions of the late colonial period;

9. Recognized that in a nation of under half a million people, solutions are possible.

 End of Part I - Stay tuned for Part II, coming Monday

Reflections on Majority Rule 2018 (better late than never)

Fifty-one years and two months ago, on January 10, 1967, the Colony of the Bahama Islands held the election that concluded with what we have come to call "Majority Rule". In 2014, January 10 was officially legislated as a public holiday. And four years after the creation of the Majority Rule Day public holiday, we remain divided as a people as to how, or even whether, to mark this moment, to commemorate this event.The problem is fundamentally political.On one hand, it's politically partisan. No matter how we spin history, it's impossible to separate majority rule from the ascension of the Progressive Liberal Party to the government. The election of the PLP constituted Majority Rule. Put another way, the black majority of this nation chose the PLP to represent it.It's also structurally political. Majority Rule is about the right of the racial majority in The Bahamas to direct its own fate. Before 1967, Bahamians of European descent were socially, economically and politically supreme, Bahamians of non-European descent subordinate. Being part of the white minority conferred a whole system of privileges that the black majority was denied. These included things as simple as access to health care and a high school education, protection from exploitation in the workplace, access to electricity, running water, telephone service and basic sanitation, the opportunity to start businesses or enter the professions, the ability to borrow money from banks, the ability to save money in banks, the right to own land where one pleased, the ability to vote for people who looked like us to represent us in the place where laws were made, and so on.These two elements, the partisan and the structural, combine to make the celebration of Majority Rule Day a point of discomfort for many Bahamians.

The problem of party politics

Opposition politics

First things first. It seems very difficult for contemporary opponents of the Progressive Liberal Party to celebrate their victory on January 10, 1967. Let's face it. That victory represents a political defeat, one when a way of life that was three centuries old came to an abrupt end.  The United Bahamian Party, formed in 1958 in answer to the growing political consciousness of the Bahamian people, dissolved less than 15 years later, in large part because Majority Rule made what it stood for obsolete. But upon that dissolution,  several former members of the UBP helped constitute the Free National Movement in 1972, and they have carried the pain of the 1967 defeat into the political climate of the twenty-first century. You can hear echoes of the UBP philosophy in social media discussions that suggest, sometimes outright, sometimes by implication, that the country was better governed before 1967: the budget was balanced, the education was better, corruption was non-existent, Bahamians were more mannerly, etc. These perspectives mirror and replicate paternalistic arguments advanced first by the British throughout the colonial era, then the UBP in the 1960s and then by the FNM in the 1970s––that the black majority was not ready to govern itself, that it had to be taught how to do so, slowly, and with extreme caution. For the Bahamians who fall into this category, Majority Rule Day is an unwarranted celebration of something that they believe (as the UBP and the FNM predicted in the sixties and the seventies) to have failed.

Governing politics

But there's another side to this issue. Let's not forget that it took The Bahamas 47 years to make Majority Rule Day a public holiday, and the Progressive Liberal Party, the immediate beneficiary of Majority Rule, was in power for 33 of those 47 years. Indeed, the social revolution that brought about Majority Rule swept the PLP into power and kept that party there for twenty-five years straight. It would seem only logical that the party of Lynden Pindling, the Black Moses who led the Black Bahamian Israelites out of the bondage of Bay Street's Egypt and towards the Promised Land on the tenth day of the first month should enshrine that day, should make it the first public holiday of this Bahamian era.But it did not. It was not until the Bahamian Black Moses had been dead almost 14 years that January 10 was elevated to a public holiday. How do we explain this?I'm going to go out on a limb and argue that to focus too closely on the actual events of January 10, 1967 was not in the interest of the PLP of the 1970s and the 1980s. In the first place, the PLP did not actually win the election that was held on January 10. The result of the 1967 election was a tie: 18 seats for the UBP and 18 for the PLP. No government could be formed until that broken. We all know now that in order for either party to form a government, negotiations had to be carried out with two men who were members of neither major political party of the day. Those negotiations, as we can see from the newspaper at the top of this blog post, were not finalized until January 14, some four days after the election, and they ended by giving the PLP a slim margin of one seat in the House of Assembly. (For those people who don't know the details, the two men were Randol Fawkes, who represented the Labour party, and Alvin Braynen, an independent. Braynen accepted the position of Speaker, which meant that he did not normally have a vote in the House, and Fawkes agreed to form a coalition government with the PLP, becoming the first Minister of Labour in the Pindling cabinet.)Perhaps the reason that Majority Rule was not made a public holiday during the first 25 years of the PLP's rule was that the PLP victory dependent entirely upon the actions of two individuals who were not members of the Progressive Liberal Party. The scrutiny that would have accompanied the creation of a holiday before that date meant that PLP would have had to modify its liberation mythology, the one that placed Lynden Pindling alone the head of the movement towards freedom. It would have meant recognizing the contribution of a white Bahamian and the contribution of a labour leader—a labour leader whose independence of spirit meant that he had criticized the PLP when he had seen fit to do so.And so, as uncomfortable as the commemoration of January 10, 1967 makes people who oppose the PLP as a political party, it has also been regarded with considerable ambivalence by the PLP itself.

The problem of structural politics

Beyond party politics, though, it would appear that there are other issues being debated that indicate an extension of that ambivalence further than members of one political party or another. Even for some of those people who recognize the significance of the 1960s to the expansion of democracy in The Bahamas, there is debate about the nature and the timing of the achievement.

Why 1967 is the right date

First of all, there's a question of whether the 1967 date is the most significant one. There is a school of thought that suggests that we should consider recognizing November 26 as Majority Rule Day, rather than January 10.For those who aren't aware, November 26, 1962 is the date on which Bahamian women voted for the first time. The proponents of this position make the argument that the extension of the suffrage to women had more significance in terms of creating a democratic majority than the almost accidental election of the PLP in 1967. Key to this particular argument is the idea that what we should be commemorating when we honour Majority Rule is the ability of the Bahamian populace to participate freely in the democratic process, rather than any particular outcome of that process. This argument is bolstered by the fact that, even though the PLP obtained only a small minority of the seats in parliament in 1962, it did win the popular vote.But this position relies on certain assumptions that are not borne out by the facts. Women's Suffrage was among a number of critical electoral reforms that followed the 1958 General Strike. Before that, there was plenty that was undemocratic about Bahamian general elections.Until 1942, voting was done by a show of hands in open halls; bribery for votes was widespread and blatant. It often took the form of a torn banknote. Half of the note would be given to the elector before he voted. If he raised his hand at the right moment for the correct candidate, he would be given the other half of the banknote at the end of the election.Property, not age, was the primary qualification to be able to vote. If you did not own your own property, or if you did not rent a property valued at over a certain amount, you could not vote. On the other hand, each man was permitted to vote as many times and in as many places as he owned property. The Bahamas was divided into districts that returned two or three representatives to parliament, and the wealthier you were, the more votes you could use. General elections were held over the period of three to four weeks to allow landowners to visit every island on which they owned land and vote.In this scenario, ordinary black Bahamian men were at an extreme disadvantage. If they did not own property, they could not vote at all. If they did own land, the likelihood that they owned more than one piece of land was slender. And if they did (like, say, L. W. Young) own multiple plots of land, the chances that they owned that land in more than one or two voting districts was almost negligible.At the other end of the spectrum stood a handful of men at the top of society. By the middle of the twentieth century, these men were being referred to as "the Bay Street Boys", and they made a point of acquiring land on every single island of The Bahamas. This gave them the right to vote in every single district, and thereby affect the outcome of any general election. The idea of one person, one vote, even as late as 1958, was not one that had any traction in The Bahamas.But the property vote (known as plural voting) was not the only way that a single Bahamian could conceivably cast numerous votes in an election. There was also the company vote—something that conferred a vote to men who served as directors on the boards of companies for each directors' position that they held. This rendered the influential even more so, and guaranteed that a handful of white Bahamian businessmen could affect the outcome of any election.In the wake of the General Strike of January 1958, the British colonial government  strongly recommended that a series of basic reforms be put in place in the Bahamian electoral system. Among these reforms were the extension of the vote to Bahamian women, the abolition of the company vote, and the abolition of the property vote. Two of these three recommendations were put in place in time for the 1962 election. Women were allowed to vote for the first time, and the company vote was abolished. But the plural vote remained, albeit in a restricted fashion. Landowners had the choice of voting in their residential district and one other.This was a limitation on the excesses of the past, but it was not the kind of suffrage that we associate with fair and open democracies, where one adult has one vote and one vote only. That particular electoral reform was not implemented until 1964, when the new constitution prescribed new constituencies, which elected ONE parliamentarian each, and each adult had one vote, subject to residential qualifications. The result: 1967 was the first such election.

That knotty problem called "race"

Another source of deep discomfort with the celebration of majority rule has to do with the question of who the "majority" referred to. It's apparent that we are still deeply conflicted about the Bahamian history of racial discrimination. But here are the facts. Until 1967, Bahamians were separated—the word should probably be segregated—into separate and definitely unequal groups. These groups were racially defined: people of European heritage occupied a highly privileged position in society, while people of African and mixed descent were subordinate. Numerous structural strategies maintained this situation, among them the various anti-democratic electoral strategies mentioned above. Majority rule meant, quite simply, that the members of the government for the first time represented, at least in appearance, the majority of the Bahamian population.There's one final reason why people are deeply ambivalent about this holiday, and it's this: although majority rule for Black Bahamians was attained in 1967, the majority of contemporary Bahamians feel unrepresented by the governments they elect. The question, quite fairly, is raised: what was truly gained by majority rule?

Who's the majority, anyway?

I want to come back to this point, because it's valid, and it's worth its own blog post. But that's another reason why we question the value of this day.Let me try and suggest an answer.Each generation faces its own struggles. In situations where freedom has been denied to any portion of a population, it takes time for that freedom to be felt and experienced by all. Our grandparents triumphed with their achievement of majority rule. But we have not advanced the struggle far enough. We live in a society where significant majorities—Bahamian women, for one example, and Bahamians who were not born before independence—remain underrepresented. Women comprise a slim majority (51%) of the population, but are still denied basic civil rights. This does not constitute majority rule.Further than that: the true majority of the population, Bahamians under the age of 45, is marginalized and unrepresented in the legislature. They are undereducated, poorly served by social programmes, underemployed, and leaving. For them, the concept of majority rule is a cruel joke.But it is possible to criticize the present while honouring the past. That, I believe, is our duty as we face Majority Rule Day every year. There is one major point about this new holiday: it forces us to face our social divisions, past and present, and forces us to talk to one another. It doesn't allow us to forget or ignore the injustices we have inherited and never resolved. And for that I'm grateful.Facebook Live video of Majority Rule Symposium 2018

The day after the day after

Elections are over. The Bahamian people have voted, and the vote was historic.It's not just that it was the cleanest sweep ever in the history of party politics in our nation. It's not just that for the first time since 2002 that any governing party has been elected by a simple majority of the electorate (i.e. over 50% of the votes cast). And it's not even that this was the first election in our history in which the sitting Prime Minister was not only voted out of office, but also lost his own seat. These are all remarkable things in themselves, but they're not the most remarkable one.

What strikes me most in this election was the independence and the power of the voters.

Several people have commented on the new government, observing, with a measure of truth, that the Pindling era is now over, but I would put it differently. I'd say that the era of the One Leader is over. Because the true victors in this election were not the Free National Movement MPs who will be sworn in and take their positions in our legislature and executive over coming weeks. The true victors on May 10, 2017 were the Bahamian people.Now, stick a pin. I've made it pretty clear over the past few months that I don't regard changing of one political party for another as any guarantee that life in The Bahamas will get better (sorry, Red Tsunami). It may feel better for a few weeks or months, but simply changing our leadership will not, and cannot, heal our nation. Electing a new party to government doesn't automatically fix the economy, find young people jobs, make Baha Mar work to our advantage, eradicate crime and violence. It doesn't even guarantee that corruption will no longer be part of our political landscape. It gives us time to breathe and take stock, but the causes of our troubles don't recognize parties in power. They come out of us, and they have to be solved by us.I've said it before: our systems are deeply flawed, and we have to strip them down and rebuild them—not once, but again and again, so that they remain relevant and robust and continue to meet our needs.What makes me hopeful about the future is not that we changed the government. It's the way in which we changed it. We didn't follow the politicians' lead; they followed the people's. We called for debates, and candidates debated. We held town halls and they came. We, the people, demanded that our politicians respected us; and those who didn't were voted away.

What's historic in this election is that we, the Bahamian people, have collectively lost our taste for being dictated to by the political elite.

The leaders of the political parties were less important than the issues we wanted addressed by our representatives: issues of accountability, of transparency, of governance, of respect for the citizens in whose place they stand. While there was plenty of leader-bashing going on, it didn't really seem to be the core of the matter. No. What seemed to be even more important was that we were looking for representatives—people who would take our needs, concerns, and worries with them when they entered the House of Assembly to form the new government.Watch this, though.

Our governing structures are not set up to deliver what we have so clearly shown that we want.

It's not realistic for us to expect that if we live in a constituency whose representative is called to serve in the cabinet, that person should be meeting the needs of the constituency as well as working to solve the very real problems of the nation. It's even unrealistic for us to expect that back-benchers can meet the needs of their constituents while at the same time they are dealing with critical legislation in the House of Assembly. So even as we're celebrating, we need to be planning how we use this euphoria to fuel the way we move forward.Because it can't all be about marching and protests, though there's power in collective voices and feet. It can't always be adversarial, us vs. them, you-for-me-or-against-me politics, whether that happens inside or outside the House of Assembly. We need to find ways to build up structures that allow for constructive dissent. You and I don't have to share the same opinion in order for us to build our society collectively and inclusively—in fact, it's better for the collective when we disagree and we have to fight our corners using reason and passion. Dissent sharpens ideals, and makes people think harder about what they really believe, and the result is better for all.I for one have no more tolerance for the politics of exclusion, whether the people being excluded are of another race or ethnicity or creed or gender or sexual preference or political affiliation or ability.

We are all Bahamians, and we all have a place in this land together. We need to start building that new country.

OK, my fellow Bahamians. It's not enough simply to change prime ministers and parties and faces in the house of assembly. We have to change the structures too. We can't stop rolling now. Let's begin building the country we want to live in tomorrow, and leave this nation better than we met it.

Counting Down to the Ballot

Under one week and counting. Advance polls opened (late and chaotic) yesterday. And the question is, who's going to win the election?

Now I've gone on record saying that I don't believe that it really matters; that none of the parties and few of the candidates who are contesting seats in this election have demonstrated to my satisfaction that they are prepared to deal with the challenges that face the nation in the twenty-first century.

But that doesn't stop me from wondering what the practical outcome of the election will be. Unlike several posters on Facebook and other social media, I have no idea whatsoever. This election is impossible to call. I know it's become popular to imagine that because the government has messed up so often and so publicly, and also because of the 21st century trend of changing governments every five years, the PLP cannot possibly be returned for another term; but the people who seem convinced of this may have forgotten, or may be too young to remember, another election run on the theme of corruption: the election of June 19, 1987.

There's something else that may also be missing from the dialogue. It's what I learned a long time ago and a long way away from here to call the zeitgeist of our era. That is, it's the spirit of the historical moment. One thing about the twenty-first century that we should not overlook is that that spirit is as global as it is local; to ignore the influence of the wider world upon this moment we find ourselves facing would be folly.It's because of that zeitgeist—the fact that we live in a revolutionary time, in a time of extreme scepticism regarding the status quo, in a time of rejecting political mores, in a time when voters again and again vote in ways that confound the pundits (think Brexit, think Trump; even think Trudeau & the Liberals if you want to)—that I find this election impossible to call. Nothing will surprise me. (Well, OK, some outcomes would surprise me more than others, but I'm ready for anything). FNM landslide? Absolutely. PLP victory? You bet. Hung parliament, with independents and/or DNA holding the balance of power? Yep, excitingly possible. DNA forming the opposition or even the government? Even this is conceivable, though it's admittedly a long shot.I'm going to walk through the options, trying to explain why I think that they are on the cards.

1. FNM landslide.
   I'm starting with this one first, because it's the most likely outcome. It's the one that the media, social and otherwise, is inclined towards. It fits the 21st century trend. You don't like a government? Vote 'em out. Replace 'em with the Other Guys.
   It also has a sort of satisfaction guaranteed likelihood. The common wisdom is that the FNM is the upright party, the party of principle, the anti-corruption party. (Never mind that recorded history doesn't exactly bear that out—witness the skulduggery of the leadership race, the receiving of the BEC bribe, the confusion/shady transparency around the road improvement project.) It sounds good. The FNM are the GOOD animals in the Animal Farm scenario. They deserve to win this one.
   And, then too, the rallies, the t-shirts, the posters, the flags, the memes. Two failed referenda. Baha Mar scandals. Rubis, Chow Tai Fook. All these seem to suggest that the country's going red. OK. But—Stick a pin.

2. PLP victory.
   We cannot overlook the eerie parallels that this election has with the 1987 election. 30 years ago, corruption was the watchword. The PLP government had been battling serious allegations of deeply entrenched corruption relating to the transshipment of drugs for nearly five years by the time the 1987 election came along, and the FNM were galvanized around that issue.
   The FNM leader, Kendal G. L. Isaacs, was a nice man and a decent representative, but he had nowhere near the charisma or people-power of his predecessor, Cecil Wallace-Whitfield. (He also happened to represent Delaporte, the seat which was the forerunner of Dr. Minnis' constituency of Killarney.)
   There was confusion regarding the voting register(s). Voters' names might be found on the register made for a recent by-election (register #1); or on the register made for the general election before the boundaries commission reported (register #2); then again on the register made for the general election after the boundaries commission increased the number of seats in the house of assembly from 43 to 49 (register #3). The country was so polarized that certain hymns could not be sung in certain churches. The FNM had boycotted and picketed the Commonwealth Heads of Government Conference in 1985, thus leading them to be branded by PLPs as traitors. On the other hand, the FNM was not allowed any time on local radio or TV stations for political advertising, with the result that their campaign was marketed from Florida by satellite. Despite all this, FNM rallies were drawing record crowds—so much so that the night before the general election the FNM mass rally was held in the QE Sports Centre, the largest gathering of political supporters the Bahamas had ever seen in one place.
   Everyone, FNM and PLP alike, was prepared for the FNM to do the unthinkable and win the election.
   The PLP won by a landslide—33 seats to the FNM's 16. So: a PLP victory next week is not only possible. It's happened before in circumstances very like these.

3. Hung parliament with DNA/independents holding the balance of power.
   This isn't as far-fetched as it might sound, and it's really the most exciting of all these options, IMO. People might do well to remember the interesting outcome of the 2002 elections, when no fewer than 4 independents were returned to the house of assembly (Tennyson Wells, Pierre Dupuch, Larry Cartwright, and Whitney Bastian). The PLP majority was large enough for those four independent voices to have little to no voting power (there were 7 FNMs and 29 PLPs), but to imagine that independents have little chance of winning this year would be a mistake.
   People would also do well to remember the equally interesting outcome of the 2007 elections, when the balance of power was effectively held in the house by the three former members of the CDR. To be precise: in 2007, the FNM beat the PLP by a mere 5 seats, holding 23 of the 41 constituencies to the PLP's 18. Three of those seats were held by former senior members of the Coalition for Democratic Reform: Bernard Nottage on the PLP side of the house, and Charles Maynard and Phenton Neymour on the FNM side. Although the CDR had officially dissolved by this time, it could theoretically have worked as a bloc to force through policies and legislation that came from its platform (alas for it and for us, it did not).
   So, it's just possible that in this election, with the DNA now an established political force and independents of some stature contesting seats, that the 40 39 places in parliament could be evenly or almost evenly divided, with one or two DNA/independent seats holding the balance of power. Shades of 1967, 2002 and 2012 all coming together in one exciting option.

4. DNA opposition/DNA victory.
   I'm not dreaming here. I believe that these comprise a real, if far-fetched, possibility. My principal argument to support it is zeitgeist.
   People are tired. Bahamians are tired of swinging back and forth between one inadequate and corrupt regime and another. Just as there are many people (mostly die-hard FNMs) who believe that the PLP is the root of all evil in this country, there are also many people who believe that the FNM is no better. The DNA presents itself as a viable alternative. And it's had its plan and policies out there long before the major parties got their acts together.
   But wait, you're thinking. All the DNA can do is act as a spoiler in this election. It can only take votes away from one of the parties (most assume that the DNA draws votes from the FNM, but this is without actual research and analysis). Let me stop you there. Let's turn this idea around.What we do know about the DNA is that it's a new party. Its candidates are youthful, by and large, and they come from across the traditional political spectrum. It's got twice as many women as the PLP and three times as many as the FNM. It's got some credible candidates (it's also got some duds). And it's got a reputation for attracting the support of first-time, younger voters.
   Now, thanks to the parliamentary registry and its inability to finalize the register, we cannot say with any certainty how the registered voters are spread across the generations. What we do know, however, is that first-time voters registered early in this cycle. They seem determined to make their mark somehow.
   So here's the thing. What if the PLP and the FNM in this election are spoilers? What if they split the established vote, and open the way for the DNA to get elected? Not a chance, you say. No change can be that radical that fast, you say.
   And I say: look at Brexit. Look at Justin Trudeau. Look at Trump. And look at the chaos of today's advance polls. The tell me it's really that far-fetched to imagine that Bahamians may say to hell with both former administrations, let's go for the ones with the newer ideas.
   Never say never. Don't count the DNA out just yet.

So there they are. My "predictions". I'm not doing the gerrymandered boundaries/2012 margins thing, because I don't see the point of it here. For one thing, others have done it far better than I possibly could. But for another, I know this.

There's no such thing as margins, really. All any citizen has is one single vote. To assume that everyone's vote is fixed, like a compass, on a particular outcome, is to make the same mistake that the pundits made when calling the US election for Hillary. I don't know what makes people vote the way they do, so I'm not placing my faith in any numbers/boundaries mojo. I think this election's up for grabs. Only May 10 will tell.

Seeding the Revolution: Resist the Status Quo

Bahamian democracy is too narrow in scope.1) We have one vote which must be cast for one of a slate of candidates that most ordinary citizens had no hand in selecting, vetting, or ratifying.2) Once that vote has been cast, the citizens have no means to recall the "representative". No matter what the political climate, whether we are enamoured of the candidates or the parties or not, this is true.3) Before that vote is cast, we have no means by which we can meet with prospective candidates to hear their vision, their beliefs, their commitment to the country, or their ability to respond to citizens' needs or concerns. There are no public debates and no primaries. There is no opportunity to engage in dialogue, no chance for evaluation of one's representatives, no accountability to one's constituents.4) Despite the attainment of "majority rule" the old model of governance, a system of patronage, still obtains. Candidates are less democratic representatives than political appointees who function rather like under-lords or chieftains. I do not buy into this system, no matter what my personal political leanings.#OutDaBox educates people that there can be a valid alternative. One can participate in the process while still refusing to select from the slate that is offered to one. This refusal should send the message that we are dissatisfied with the SYSTEM that obtains rather than with the party in power.We are working for a revolution, not a replacement of personnel. Corruption is always a corollary of power. What we need are valid SYSTEMS that demand more accountability.On May 10, think #OutDaBox.

Seeding the Revolution: Withdrawing Consent

Educated FoolishnessLast Thursday, the Out Da Box movement introduced itself to The Bahamas. Ian Strachan, Alicia Wallace and I began the discussion about spoiling the ballot as an option in the upcoming general election on Guardian Talk Radio, and (to my considerable surprise, but not to the others') the discussion took off. What madness were we suggesting? Spoil the ballot? Why on God's green earth, at this critical juncture in history,  would anyone ever think of doing something so stupid?And the discussion continued far beyond the morning show. It was taken up again at noon by the Revolution, and then at 5 on Freedom March, and it seemed to continue again into Friday, with more radio discussion on the weekend as well. Almost all of the discussion disagreed vehemently with the position that we've taken: that if, like us, you don't feel you have anyone to vote for, register anyway and spoil your ballot.The "stupidity" of the idea centred around two main points:

1. the concept that anyone in their right mind would, or should, go to the polls and stand in line in the hot sun, wasting their time and energy and patience, to go into the voting booth just to choose no candidate at all; and
2. the idea that doing this would change anything about the outcome. If 90% of the electorate spoiled their ballot, the next government would be elected by the 10% who did not, and the politicians would not care one whit about the rest.

The general refrain: this will achieve nothing, so why even suggest it?Method in the MadnessWhat much of the discussion seems to have missed about the movement is that its focus is not on effecting quick, immediate change in political rulership. Rather, it is on building citizen power.For too long, we have accepted the idea that "democracy" consists of going to the polls every five years--or, more recently, whenever a referendum is called--to cast a vote on a pre-selected slate of candidates or a pre-determined set of options. The result has been that we've developed the habit of treating election seasons rather like football playoffs--people have their teams, they wear their paraphernalia, they trash talk about the other guys. Like football playoffs too, we have evolved a binary way of looking at political options: it's an either/or scenario. And it's a spectator sport for the most part. We may study the plays and talk about them, but we do not contribute to them. The game is plotted out in the locker room, behind closed doors, between coaches and players. As with football, we seem to accept that this is the way things are done. All we do is cheer them on when we see how well they work, or groan when they don't.But democracy is not like football. Government FOR the people BY the people means, very simply, that the citizens of any democracy are in fact its governors. At the moment, we operate in a representative democracy, which means that at specific moments in time, citizens vote for the people they will send to represent them in the legislature. That's why the gallery is in the House of Assembly. These representatives are ideally supposed to be the voice of the citizens--the governors--when the time comes to make laws, and also one of the checks to the power of the executive, many of whose decisions should be reported to or ratified by the House of Assembly.The result of treating elections like football playoffs, though, means that we tend to assume that what happens in the House of Assembly is the politicians' business. We often miss the point that the politicians work for us. For a long time, we have given them too little oversight, too little direction, and they have developed a culture of entitlement, a culture of disrespect for the citizenry that is only now beginning to be checked with the advent of social media.The Out Da Box movement seeks, quite simply, to change the thinking of the citizenry. To shift the discussion away from trash talk to what it means to operate in a democracy. To recognize that a citizen's vote is the one bit of direct power that citizen has, albeit very small.We believe that there is power in withholding that vote, because democracy depends on the consent of the ruled. We recognize that withholding our consent will not change the immediate outcome of the election. We know that it may be ignored or discounted by the people who do get elected. We know that the government that is formed after the 2017 election will probably forget that they do not have the mandate to make decisions on behalf of the citizenry that they have come to expect.But showing up to withdraw our consent is the beginning of a new way of being governed. It will take more than engaging in the spectator sport that our democracy has become, but it will be worth it in the end. By showing up to spoil our ballots, to withdraw our consent to be governed, we, the citizens, will be pledging with that one small act that we will show up again and again, collectively. We will do the work it takes, as the true government of our democracy, to contribute to our legislative activity. And we will learn and exercise skills that our representatives seem to lack or to have forgotten: reasoning skills, the skills of dialogue, respect for dissent and dissenters, and the skill of constructive negotiation.Out Da Box believes that the very first step to that collective action can be spoiling the ballot--withdrawing our consent to be inadequately ruled--together. Stupid is as Stupid DoesSo back to the educated foolishness, the stupidity of the act of spoiling the ballot.

1. Why register, go to the polls, stand in the hot sun and waste time, energy and patience, just to spoil the ballot? Because WE are the government. The people we elect work for US. The fact that they hold their allegiance to their parties--their teams--above their responsibility to be the voice of the citizenry is unacceptable to us.
2. What will spoiling the ballot achieve? It is an act that citizens can take together to lay the foundation for a more participatory democracy that we have today.The fact that we take the time to withdraw our consent is a demonstration that we are going to show up for other, more visible exercises that reinforce the citizens' power.

So the foolishness of this movement boils down to one primary idea. Citizens acting together to withdraw their consent to be ruled will lay the foundation for a better, more participatory, future.

Seeding the Revolution: Spoiling the Vote

Elections are coming.They have to be. Constitutionally, they have to be held by the middle of this year. Between now and May, presumably, Bahamian voters will know which constituencies they reside in, who their candidates are, and what choices they will have at the polls this time.In response to this knowledge, the talk everywhere has turned partisan. The PLP convention has sparked a flurry of discussion of all kinds. People who oppose the current government have seized convenient, if meaningless, talking points like "Where the VAT money gone?", while people who support the government invoke track records and party stability.The thing is, much of this discussion is moot. No matter how much we enjoy the trash talk, only a minority of us are set to influence the outcome of this next election. Voter registration has been remarkably slow so far. According to the latest announcements by the Parliamentary Registrar's office, the number of registered voters still sits below 100,000—some 88,000 at time of writing, compared with around 125,000 in January 2012. Why this might be is a matter for another time. What concerns me at this moment is that voting for our MPs is the only way in which over 70% of the Bahamian population gets to participate directly in the democratic process. This year, about half of the eligible voters have decided to opt out of the process.This is a red flag. It signals something fundamentally wrong with our democracy. It also opens the door for an increase in governmental abuses. The less involved in the democratic process the population becomes, the less accountable officials and politicians have to be. And as of this moment, no matter what the turnout, the next government will be elected by a minority of Bahamian citizens. Minority rule, welcome back home.I'm going to propose that there is a possible solution. It's not one that will change the outcome of the 2017 election in any appreciable way. At the moment, that outcome depends on which party is most successful in getting its base out to register and vote, a simple numbers game. But it can change the measure of accountability we can demand of our elected officials. And it may well impact elections in the future.It's this. Go and register. As Bahamian citizens we have that right, and it was fought for and won by people far more more determined and principled than we are today. And then, if you're unhappy with the politicians or with the system or the country, don't fall for the least-of-two-evils rhetoric; spoil your ballot.I'll say it again. Go register. Go vote. But spoil the ballot.It's easy to do. You can mark your X outside the box, or you can write something other than your X on the paper, or you can draw a picture, or you can vote for your mother, or you can vote for your dog, or for the man in the moon.You're probably asking now: what's the point? The end result will be the same.And I'll say: Yes, and no.You won't change the outcome of this election if you register and spoil the ballot instead of sitting this one out. But you will send a message to whichever minority government is elected in May. And it's this:We are watching, we will hold you accountable. We reject the bad choices you gave us. Do better. Don't think the strategists are not watching. They are paying very close attention. Voter apathy will send the message that Bahamians don't care what they do. But a spoiled ballot, even if the counts are not released to the public, will tell a very different tale.Give me another post, and I'll explain why.

#wemarch like flamingoes

Something has changed in the air. Today, I took part in a peaceful march from Arawak Cay to Rawson Square in Nassau. I can't easily articulate why, though. It was not a protest on my part. It was most certainly not a partisan gesture; I have come to consider Bahamian party politics (the only kind I can honestly talk about) a petty, visionless affair more concerned with personal vendettas than with any exercise of statehood. It was partly curiosity that took me out, partly the desire to see and take part in a Bahamian social movement, partly wanting to be there for myself so that I could make my own memory of the moment and not have others define it for me.But mostly it was for the expansion of Bahamian democracy. And to take a step in a new direction, to be there on the ground as we Bahamians, for so long dependent on whatever saviour-leader we can identify, begin to pick up the reins of democratic action for ourselves.For we have not been raised as a protesting nation. We have for a long time been a deeply partisan one, and successive governments run by the two feuding political parties have deepened the divisions in our society. We have for too long treated our democratic duty as little more than the right to take part in popularity contests. We've refused to analyze what has ailed our society, but have rather chosen to scapegoat and shift blame around as though we are engaged in a giant game of shuffleboard rather than the business of running a country. We have used our MPs and party affiliations as avenues for favour, and have ignored the incompetence, the visionlessness and the cupidity of those for whom we voted because of the kind of loyalties people attach to sports teams. We have used our party acronyms and colours as reasons to hurl invective at one another and somehow that has made us feel better about ourselves. And we have closed our eyes as our nation—which, though little, could be great—grows smaller and smaller and poorer and poorer in every way possible. We've been content to let it happen because we have political stability and peaceful elections and leaders we an approach and gladhand and cuss out as the feeling strikes us. But none of that has changed anything real at all. Now, I'm not saying that #wemarch today can change anything on its own. That was the main reservation I had about it: that it stood for too many things, that the list of grievances was too long, that this was a catch-all demonstration that lacked focus and real propulsion for change. I turned up and walked the route not only to be part of the march and to participate in this democratic moment, but also as an anthropologist, to observe, to analyze the moment. To see whether it was something truly revolutionary or whether it was something else, something as dismissible as some supporters of the current government have suggested. I believe that something basic has changed in the way we do politics. I am not saying that it is a deep-seated change or a permanently new way of doing things; only time will tell that. But I believe that today #wemarch inspired  :

1. A deep sense of patriotism. The march was supposed to be a silent one, and presumably a solemn one. But we are not normally a solemn people. Visitors to our country have always remarked on the warmth of the Bahamin people, something I've usually taken with a heap of salt; we are so very often angry and bitter these days. But what stuck out most about the march was just that—warmth. And a deep love for our country. The song we sang as we rounded the corner to Navy Lion Road was "March On Bahamaland"—our national anthem. 
2. The achievement, through social media, of a bottom-up One Bahamas. For many years leaders of various sorts have tried to impose a sense of unity on Bahamians, but it has been a false unity, one which has been deeply partisan—witness the golden colours that abound on Majority Rule day or the crimson ones that were linked with the One Bahamas celebrations. There was no sense of false unity today. Perhaps it was the sense of awe at the numbers of people who marched, or the even larger numbers wearing black, but there was some measure of solidarity in the marching and the occupation.
3. A sense of empowerment. I am not saying that it is not a fragile one, but it is critical. One of the things that has been prevalent in Bahamian society for too many years is a deep sense of helplessness, a sense of being out of control, of mistrust of those in power (and this goes for the FNM as well as the PLP), a sense of being out of place, being unwanted in one's homeland. Not so much today.
4. A sense of possibility. People were friendly, people were communicating, people were stepping out of their silos and making contact with people from other domains. Active and hopeful politicians were on the march, but they were almost incidental. They were following the people, which is the way it probably should be in a democracy. 

So. It was a start. For those of us talking about the revolution, this was not it: but it was the beginning of a turn in a different direction. There's a saying, or a rumour, about the flamingo, the Bahamian national bird. It's said that when one starts marching in a particular direction, the others will follow. This is what happened today. This was step one.Step two: to figure out where we're going from here. **featured photo by Rosemary Clarice Hanna

Hurricane Matthew: #massivefail (2)

I'm writing this in the cool breeze and dark room of a home in an area which not only has yet to see electricity restored, but even to see any presence of our Power and Light company for blocks around.* Hurricane Matthew blew past us two weeks ago, and we have yet to return to normalcy. I am a citizen, and a patriot, and I am ashamed of the way in which our government has responded to this disaster.

Let me point to the areas of greatest failure.

1. Bahamas Power and Light

I have already criticized this company roundly on social media. Let me be very clear: my criticism does not stem from my personal situation. After the last major hurricanes to affect electricity services in the capital, we invested in the sort of generator that could withstand this kind of power loss -- a workhorse of an engine. Rather, my criticism stems from the fact that the result of BPL's ineptitude in the wake of this storm has compounded rather than alleviated the suffering and trauma experienced by the residents of the Bahamas' capital city, and it did not have to be that way.BPL has worked hard to earn my criticism. I will give props to the company for restoring power to the hospitals, the security agencies, and Paradise Island the day after the hurricane. That part of their strategy made sense, considering that Atlantis was being used by many as a hurricane shelter and a home away from home. But that is where my commendation stops.Thereafter, BPL's response to the hurricane was wrong-footed, revealing that the new managers were clearly out of their depth. In the first instance, the company was wrong to reject hurricane protocols established by its parent company, BEC. This decision left residents of Nassau perplexed and rattled, as we did not see the company mobilize and jump into action until after our first weekend in darkness. Rather than beginning as soon as the storm had passed, it seemed, BPL was wasting time "assessing" the extent of the damage. No doubt it was working feverishly to repair its own plants. But this was accomplished in utter silence, in the absence of any real communication to the customers it served and on whose money -- from our taxes and from our pockets -- it depends for its own survival.In the second instance, the communications in which it engaged after this sluggish first response were not only inadequate, but downright insulting. The tenor of the communications came off as defensive and self-serving, with frequent references to the "unprecedented" nature of this storm and the lack of adequate resources to address the state of emergency.This was insulting because while Hurricane Matthew is widely claimed to have been the strongest storm to directly hit Nassau since 1929, the reality is that the situation is more a matter of degree rather than of quality. In my adult memory, I can count eight storms which have affected New Providence substantially, six of them this century. Further, as we should all be well aware, a decade ago two of those storms devastated Grand Bahama and wiped out its power generation ability altogether, requiring the replacement of all the utility poles from Freeport to West End in 2004-5. Our legacy power company, BEC, has extensive experience in dealing with hurricane recovery within and outside of Nassau and has learned how to do it well. BPL's insistence that the impact of Matthew was somehow extraordinary rang false, and had the effect of discounting everything Bahamians have learned about the restoration of power after major storms.So while I am perfectly willing to agree that Matthew may have affected our power generation plants more than any other in recent times, and that it may have left a different kind of destruction behind, I cannot accept that BEC lacked the experience or the strategies that would allow the capital to be functional more quickly and in a more reasonable amount of time. The fact that the majority of the island of New Providence remained without light until the Sunday after the storm spoke more to the inexperience and hard-headedness of the new management team than to the magnitude of the storm. After all, Matthew sideswiped New Providence as a Category 3 storm, and the eye passed us by. The continual references to its "unprecedented" nature sounded like excuses for ineptitude.Let me support this point with some more comprehensive detail. These are the other significant storms we have weathered in New Providence in the past quarter century: Hurricane Andrew (Cat 5) (1992), Hurricane Floyd (Cat 3-4) (1999), Hurricane Michelle (Cat 1) (2001), Hurricanes Frances (Cat 4) and Jeanne (Cat 3) (2004), Hurricane Irene (Cat 3) (2011), and Hurricane Sandy (Cat 1) (2012). For Bahamians, and for Nassauvians, although the eye of a hurricane has not come this close to us for some fifteen years -- not since Hurricane Michelle, whose eye stayed over the capital for some hours -- the statement that the strike was "unprecedented" has the effect of dismissing our collective experience as irrelevant, unworthy of recognition.Let me be clear on another point, too.  Lest people misunderstand what I expect from our power company and imagine that I am judging the response of BPL to the storm solely by the restoration of power to the capital, let me assure you that I am not talking about full restoration of services here. Hurricanes bring devastation, and I do not expect miracles. I do, however, expect rationality in the wake of a storm; I expect our power company to understand the way New Providence works, and to make decisions that minimize suffering and confusion rather than ones that exacerbate that suffering.I am talking about commitment, confidence, and communication. After those other hurricanes that disrupted the capital's electricity -- primarily Andrew, Floyd, Michelle, Frances and Jeanne -- residents of New Providence were given comprehensive reports of the damage to the electrical grid, a general understanding of the scope of the repairs to be undertaken, and then regular updates about the progress of those repairs. We have come to expect this kind of respect, and we have missed it sorely this time. It is the kind of communication that allows us to understand that while it might take weeks to restore full electricity to the whole island, two weeks after those storms, the capital will function again. Schools without significant damage will re-open. Businesses will return to some level of normalcy. Traffic will move without snarls at traffic lights and many communities will have their power restored.Additionally, in those past storms, after two weeks, we all knew our electricity corporation was working for us. Crews had been visible throughout the island from the moment the storm had passed, at times even before the all-clear was given. It was understood that the restoration of electricity to as many people as possible was of the highest priority. We understood that BEC recognized that the swift resumption of power generation was critical to the recovery of the economy and of the island, and public confidence was boosted by the corporation's clear communication and a sense of commitment to the quickest restoration in the shortest possible time.I cannot say that I have confidence in any of the above this year. On the contrary: BPL has succeeded in convincing me that its primary interest lies in conserving its bottom line, in protecting whatever revenues it expected to earn from this management contract, rather than in restoring power to the people it serves in the shortest possible time. It may well have worked to restore power in the shortest cost-effective possible time, but that is not the same thing at all, and it inspires little confidence in me that I matter to BPL in any way other than the payment of my electricity bill.I resent this deeply. Unlike money which was paid to BEC in the past, this insistence on cost-effectiveness is not, and cannot be, merely to ensure efficiency. It must also be to repatriate some of the revenues earned from Bahamian pockets to the USA, where the parent company of the new management resides. Otherwise what would be the point of accepting the management contract?There may be people who will argue with me, who will take the stand that even in an emergency, money matters more than people. For the sake of neo-liberal argument, I'll give them that point, although every atom in my body screams that it is wrong. Even so, if cost effectiveness is your primary motivation, I expect a level of fiscal efficiency. If your goal is cost-effectiveness, at least achieve it with the minimal possible disruption to normal life. Even here BPL's miscalculation has been great. Its slowness and muddled strategy of restoration has resulted in the following impacts on life in the capital:

• the slow restoration of internet and cable communication, which is dependent in many cases on the restoration of electricity
• the inability of public schools to reopen as scheduled owing the continued lack of power to their surrounding communities, a direct result of the company's decision to leave the northeastern and southern segments of New Providence to the last
• the protracted power outage at the Port of Nassau, the core of New Providence's economic activity
• the continued inability of a considerable proportion of the business community to function at full capacity, as much of the economy of New Providence is still centred in and around the city of Nassau in the neglected north-eastern segment of the island, and also as a result of their remaining without cable and internet
• traffic chaos owing to the scores of traffic lights that remain non-functional in the wake of the hurricane

Even as I write this, these are the traffic lights that impact me personally that remain non-functional, two weeks in: Village and Bay, Village and Shirley, Shirley and Mackey, Mackey and Bay, Mackey and Pyfrom (Bar 20), Mackey and Madeira, Parkgate and Village. The lights at Madeira and Montrose, Madeira and Mount Royal, Madeira (Fifth Terrace) and Collins, Rosetta and Sears, Rosetta and Hawkins, Rosetta (Fourth Terrace) and Collins, Mackey and Wulff, Collins and Wulff, East and Wulff, Market and Wulff, Nassau and Meadow/Boyd, Elizabeth and Shirley, Blue Hill and Cumberland, Blue Hill and Dillet. These are not insignificant junctions. No doubt there are scores of others. These are not rural outposts, and they are not areas that can go without traffic signals for long. But they are testimonies to the way in which BPL's approach to this storm was woefully and tragically off the mark.What is more, it appears as though, contrary to a more established practice of  tackling the most difficult jobs first, BPL has left them to the last. This means that the people who were most impacted by the storm itself -- who suffered the flooding from the storm surge, who lost cars and roofs to falling trees, who lost their vehicles and their furniture and in some cases the stability of their homes -- are also those people who remain the most neglected two weeks after the storm. This has the effect of compounding their trauma and of increasing, rather than alleviating, their suffering. I am not suggesting that the damage to the electrical system that occurred in those areas should, or could, be fixed immediately. But I am saying that there is some comfort to be had simply from knowing that one's area is a priority for officials, from knowing that you are on someone's list, that you are not being forgotten. And that is what has sorely been lacking in this post-Matthew time.In short, BPL's recovery plan has appeared ad hoc, foreign, and woefully unsuited to the realities of life on New Providence. I can only conclude that what has happened at BPL -- as BEC delivered a far better service after hurricanes, even if it did not deliver much in the way of service day-to-day -- is that the new managers have come in with their own way of doing things, and disregarded protocols that have been in place for decades. (I am only speculating here, and my speculation is fuelled both by rumour and by a deep bias against the outsourcing of any essential utility to an external company, so take this part of my criticism with the appropriate dose of salt.) I suspect, however, that the new managers discounted the institutional and local knowledge that allowed BEC to function to this point, given the decrepitude of the plant and the chronic misallocation of funds it has suffered for decades. I suspect that the new managers instituted their own post-hurricane protocols instead of considering the value of those that have been tried and true -- to their detriment. There were babies in that bathwater, as we have all found out.There is very little in the way of mitigation that can be had at this stage, but there are some things that can be done.One of the areas that stands out most glaringly about BPL's non-handling of this crisis is its persistent refusal, apparently, to offer any rebates to its customers in this difficult time. Not only have the press conferences that I have heard mentioned cost at every turn, BPL -- unlike every other public utility company in the nation  -- has insisted clearly that they will continue to bill their customers for their services and that they will continue to disconnect those customers for non-payment of their bills.Come again? Is BPL the only agency in this country to emerge without loss in the wake of this hurricane? Is the right to repatriate profits more important than the ability of Bahamian citizens to recover from the storm? Is BPL oblivious to the ways in which it has compounded the suffering and slowed our recovery? Are we expected to pay for this massive failure?Words massively fail me here. The only thing I can do is to call upon the bosses of BPL, the politicians we have elected to manage our nation, to demand that some other arrangements be made, to demand that BPL recognize its contribution to our suffering and to at least consider offering reduced bills to those who have been without power for longer than seven days. Something concrete, something tangible, must be exchanged for the frustration, confusion and inefficiency that we have experienced from BPL over the past two weeks.What I would also like to see now is some humility in the wake of this disaster. At the very least, I would like to see the new managers learn something from this experience.They should learn something about the Bahamian people -- that we expect better than they have given us after this hurricane. They should learn something about the expertise that they met in the corporation that they were contracted to manage -- that perhaps local expertise is worth listening to, worth making room for, worth promoting. They should learn something about going into another country armed with the assumption that they way that they do things elsewhere may not be the best way, may not even work if transplanted. And they should learn something about basic communication. The provision of electricity should be divorced from spin. Tell the truth, tell it fairly, and gain the confidence of your consumers. Try to confuse us with numbers and percentages and mumbo-jumbo of the American kind, and worse, charge us for it, can only yuck up our vexation (Eng. translation: raise our ire).That is all.------

*Edit: the very night I wrote this post, the trucks came. They appeared in the neighbourhood by threes. One car, three trucks. 14 days after the hurricane. But the restoration of power was not as easy as that. By the time this publishes, it may have been achieved, but for now: we're still in darkness. [Back]

Love, Hate, Democracy and Christianity

Bahamian pastors, I have a question for you. What did you preach about yesterday? It's the first Sunday since the referendum, so I imagine that many congregations were engaged in praise and thanksgiving for the Bahamas' rejection of changes to the status quo that might allow for gay marriage. But it was also the morning of a massacre. Did you preach about that?If you did, was Christ your example? Did you, in your rejoicing, spare a thought for the families of the 50+ dead in Orlando? A prayer? Did you lead your congregations in prayers for the wounded in Pulse nightclub, or did you (God forbid) offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the shooter?These things matter. I'm asking because we are responsible for the stands we take. We're responsible for both the positive outcomes and the negative ones. We can never know how our words will be taken when we utter them, and when they leave us, but that does not make us any less responsible for them. Words are not children; they do not have consciences of their own. But they do have consequences.A choice was made by a significant proportion of the Bahamian Christian community during the lead-up to the Bahamas referendum. It was a choice I did not understand, and a choice that I would not have made myself. As a result, significant portions of the discussion that surrounded the referendum focussed on a "gay agenda" that had to be defeated at whatever cost—even the cost of not affording equal rights under the constitution to Bahamian women. When challenged, many of the people advancing that position insisted that their stand was not against individuals. Christians love homosexuals, they said; it is the homosexual lifestyle they do not love. For the sake of argument, I will accept that position, though I did not see a whole lot of love being shared. I didn't see too many pastors sitting and engaging with Bahamian gay rights activists, or embracing members of the Bahamian transgender community. I heard a lot of aggression and a lot of judgement, though. Plenty wrath. Not so much gentleness.Well, on Saturday night, a real blow was struck against the "gay agenda", and it was struck with bullets and with blood. More than fifty homosexuals were removed from this world by a man who was taking his own personal stand against their "agenda". Now I am in no way linking that shooting directly to any Bahamian Christian. I am well aware that the shooter was an Afghani-American. But his intent seemed all too familiar here in The Bahamas. And some of the responses appearing in Bahamian social media—which rejoiced in his actions, which threatened the same here—sickened me.Hence my question. Pastors, what did you preach about yesterday? Did you remind your congregations that, no matter what your stand in principle about same-sex marriage and homosexual lifestyles, the slaughter of actual human beings was wrong? Did you remind them of Jesus' words about judging others, about turning cheeks, about loving neighbours as yourself? Did you condemn in advance the outpouring of hate that was certainly about to come from people who used your stance against the proposed amendment to justify their personal homophobia? Did you, in short, accept responsibility for your position on the referendum, recognize the links between yesterday morning's shooting and that position, and work to explain the difference between a principle and an action? That your call to righteousness is not a call to murder? That the freedom of speech, of expression, or of opinion, are not the same as the freedom of action? That the shooting of people in a nightclub catering to LGBTI people is certainly not what God is calling His people to do? And beyond that, what have you written about it? Where are the words that you will use to help heal this hate? I am not condemning the position you took on the referendum, though I disagree with it, and was saddened by it. We live in a democratic society, and democracy guarantees you the right to hold and defend your personal convictions. But that right comes with responsibility. You are responsible for the words you used in this fight. I am holding you responsible for the words you will use from now on to spread the love of Christ, as well as judgement. You are our pastors. You can lead us astray, or in the paths of righteousness. I'm waiting.PS: Check this out. 

Gilbert Morris on the Referendum

In a well organized society, equality cuts both ways, and must include for instance changes to family law so that good fathers, can gain custody or have proper access to their children. Overall, I do not believe this referendum contributed to the good of The Bahamas. Governments of the Bahamas are too political and so undermine their credibility as constitutional arbiters. We cannot make the first change to our constitution some rule change on a narrow basis. Bahamians need to learn the basic meaning of having a constitution, and feel kinship with its principles.

Source: On Referendum 2016 by Gilbert MorrisI appreciated this analysis. Go read the whole thing.