Morris Cargill

I AM very glad that the debate on the Caribbean Court of Justice has been suspended. In the first place, it is not a good idea. The JLP has, of course, opposed it from the start, but I also happen to know that quite a number of lawyers of differing political opinions have also opposed it. I do not know the Prime Minister's opinion on this subject. But I suspect that it is lukewarm, and in any case the credit is due to him for being immediately responsible for suspending the debate.

I find it hard to understand why a number of people have nevertheless been in support of the Caribbean Court of Justice. I suspect that the motivation comes partly from a narrow nationalism, and partly because some lawyers think that a few special benefits would come their way as a result of it. But it does not seem to me to make sense. To begin with, the expense of setting up a Caribbean Court of Justice would be immense. This would not only involve a few more judicial appointments, but a whole courts office with staff and library would have to be created, and probably an expensive new building as well.

Our existing courts are notoriously under-staffed, and ramshackle, and it seems silly to undertake the setting up of a new court when we cannot even afford to run properly the ones that we have.

Distance lends enchantment, and the English Privy Council has the advantage of a kind of distance impartiality, which would be beyond the reach of any small West Indian island. In addition, the Privy Council gives the services of a considerable number of exceptionally learned and experienced judges.

In short, I take the view, which I am sure I share with many other lawyers, that the sooner we abandon the idea of the Caribbean Court of Justice the better.

Our pundits, and professors, our journalists, and critics, are constantly talking about the social and financial problems in Jamaica. One important thing, however, seems always to be forgotten.

The forgotten Jamaica

The population of Jamaica for some three centuries consisted of 70 per cent of slaves, and 30 per cent of opportunists and adventurers. There was a tiny minority who did better, but their number was so small that they made no difference to the prevailing squalor. Within a 100 years or so thereafter the hope arose that Independence, and democracy would be the means by which a modern well ordered society could emerge.

Of course, it did not. Instead, there arose a generalised rascality, dominated by corrupt politicians, and garrison constituencies terrorised by gunmen and plagued by the trade in drugs. Then, as now, it was the profits that concerned our people, not the means by which these profits were accumulated. For many years sugar was the engine of commercial development, and people cared little for educational opportunities.

The engine of commercial development has now become tourism, and educational opportunities have largely been replaced by what some people call entertainment, but what is better known as sex.

In consequence, the twin evils of corruption, and poverty (save for a small minority of Jamaicans) have become the dominant factors in the country. Considering our history, what otherwise can we expect?

There is no point in trying to apportion blame. If any is to be apportioned it lies with the system that began three centuries ago, and which remains corrupt to this very day.

The question is, what can now be done? We shall have to await many generations for an answer.

In the meantime, there is one old Jamaican saying which we should remember: "Wa gwaan bad a marning caan cum good a evenin".

* Morris Cargill is The Gleaner's senior columnist who has writing for more than 48 years.