Statues and States
My country recently, rightfully, tore down a statue of Columbus. Its absence leaves a symbolic hole which we must now seek to fill with national symbols. Let's talk about it.
Allow me to start by saying I don’t think most people truly care about statues—my government included. I don’t really have any special affinity for the artform myself but I do walk around Port of Spain and environs where I take notice of the various statues we have. These usually fit neatly into one of the two categories: poorly-maintained public art projects (thinking of the one situated on the Richmond/Dundonald/Tragarete junction) or representations of historic figures.
We’ll talk about the state’s failure to properly care for art both within its archives and in the public view another time1. Today I want to address the disgraced captain, shaken from his stone mount. There’s nothing I can tell you about Columbus that you don’t already know. Before the removal of his statue under the current UNC regime, his three ships were removed from our coat of arms under the PNM last year.
The ships were replaced by a lazy, ugly steelpan which hardly matches the rest of the CoA’s aesthetic. The artist in charge of the replacement, Gillian Bishop, responded to the aforementioned criticism which was echoed by almost the entire nation with by saying, “I don’t care about what people think.” Now, that’s a good attitude for an artist to have when producing work for their own private shows or collections. However, this becomes a bit problematic when one is attempting to represent the nation. Nobody really had an issue with the pan—just about every Trini can agree it’s the most universally recognised Trini thing besides corbeaux and doubles.
So now that we’ve torn the captain down, who will fill his place? In a Newsday article by Rishard Khan, Port of Spain’s mayor, Chinua Alleyne offers up the idea that perhaps the square in which Columbus once stood, named Columbus Square, could be renamed to Kwame Ture Way. Alleyne, in a Newsday article by Narissa Fraser, also said that “a name is a powerful thing” and that he hopes that this will honour Ture’s 'contribution to the fight against institutional racism.
If you’re not the most familiar with Ture’s work… I’m ashamed to say me too. Despite studying history in secondary school up until form five (which is supposed to carry students into post-independence up til, I believe, Hosay riots and the coup) Kwame Ture was never brought up in my classes. Perhaps this is because my CSEC history teacher was too lazy to actually teach class and we never got past unit 2 of the syllabus2 into the third unit which may have taught us about Ture. The first time I ever heard any of Ture’s words were in Lil Ugly Mane’s “Wishmaster” when he said, “I walk around with mostly large rifles for survival cuz death walks hand in hand with struggle—Stokely Carmichael3” The second time I heard any of Ture’s words were in Nostrum Grocers “‘98 gewehr” when ELUCID says, “they dragged Stokely cross the hospital floor and he said ‘Imma, Imma tell God how you treat me!” If you’re wondering these people are: they’re American rappers.
Ture was a revered historic figure in the Pan-African movement. The history of rap music is largely intertwined with Pan-Africanism and Nation of Islam thought so it’s really no surprise that they’d mention Ture. Still, it bothers me that these Americans were the first people to bring me to Ture. It also bothers me to know that Ture was labelled a persona non grata and banned from his own nation by our beloved founding father, Eric Williams. I want to say that I was surprised to learn this but Williams’ plan for bolstering our national economy and our national pride as a newly-independent nation essentially revolved around shaking ass for multinational corporations interested in continuing the extractive relationship which our nation experienced pre-independence—the very same extractive relationships which gave rise to slavery and indenture—so I really can’t say that I’m shocked at all.
Ture’s name was carved into the history of revolution outside of Trinidad and Tobago. Meanwhile, our nation carried on dancing for conglomerates (specifically in oil and gas) believing that collecting measly dividends would be our path to self-determination, freedom, and development. Of course, it’s challenging for any newborn nation to stand on its own feet (consider Haiti) so I can, if I try real hard, sympathise with Williams’ attempts to get this nation up and running.
Now, roughly 60 years after Ture was banned from the country, we seem keen on choosing him to represent our nation’s victories. This belated recognition, which came post-national-shunning, seems to me a kind of national trope. Trinidad and Tobago shies away from anything which seems truly revolutionary. Rather than recognising that the icons we’ve produced (Ture, CLR James) were interested in fighting for us to be less reliant on external forces for national stability4, we throw them to the side—most often, because revolution does not seem profitable to the powers that be.
I think this can apply to most societies—revolutionaries have always been fought against by the state and by a wider society which refused to engage with them due to fears of being outcast, losing their jobs, etc. It’s particularly bothersome to me because I live in a country whose major national celebration, Carnival, is marketed as a re-enactment of a rebellion. Rebellion as a point of cultural pride in Trinidad and Tobago only stops at surface level considerations of rebellion. I believe that this is partially due to the sell-out legacy that Williams started when he took office. We may be independent but we never stopped being in servitude to multinational companies whose only interests have been gutting our land and resources.
When we do choose to recognise revolutionary people or thoughts it comes too little too late. Governments cannot afford to highlight those who would bare their fangs against the system while they are alive—to do so would be to advertise their own shortcomings and demand that they be challenged by the nation’s populace and threaten their place as the aristocracy. Their charade would be over.5
Ultimately, what we have is a defanged notion of revolutionary memory that resembles pretty mas more than it does kambule. I’m not saying I’m not happy that we’re taking steps in the right direction. Fuck yeah! I want my nation to recognise the revoutionaries, the literaries, the scholars—that people whose love for this nation could only manifest through conflict—so that we can step away from this current state of cultural illiteracy which most of our nation live in. Unfortunately, I can’t help but see the changing of the name of a street and the installation of a statue to be a pacifier and a bandage. Yes, this will be a prompt towards national curiosity but scholars like Ture, James, Cipriani are only taught at a higher level after students have already sailed past Columbus and his discovery. Most will not even get to these people. There’s a statue of Cipriani in Port-of-Spain but when I walk past it I don’t hear people discussing the current corruption of labour politics and how far we’ve fallen from the 70s6. Woodford University, situated in front of the Hall of Justice and the Red House, is not a grounds for the intellectual powers who roam the streets—it’s a glorified, open-air homeless shelter.
I’ve said all this to say that I hope I’m not that only one wary of this supposed “victory” for us and our history. Still, no statue has gone up and Ture remains only a suggestion. Of course, given that his name has made its way into the news cycle and some sectors of the national consciousness surrounding this statue fiasco, it’s probably gonna be him. Remember, Ture didn’t say that glory walks hand in hand with struggle. Again, I’m not saying that isn’t a step in the right direction. I just want us to be wary of how the state weaponises symbolic victories (or losses like the ongoing CEPEP gripes) to present us with some illusion that we’re truly forward-thinking, progressive, or that we embrace our radicals. Our state is always waiting on international, usually American, permission.
End notes. Ok so I kinda want some audience feedback? Do you guys like the kinda personal edutainment angle that the substack has? For the most part these writings are loosies that I just want to get out my system (like a sneeze). I’ll get back to most of these in some longer form writing but people seem to enjoy this? I kinda like the casual tone too. I also recognise that I tend to be writing about serious stuff and idk if my persoal tone undermines that because this is literally just how I think and communicate. Thanks for reading and thanks for feedback.
But to give you a small idea of what that may look like from now! The Rotunda, the erstwhile national gallery while the real one by NAPA gets renovated, has leaks in its ceiling. In my one and only trip to the place, I was sitting down feeling drops pouring down on my arms. This struck me as particularly grievous because the Rotunda is located directly under the Red House’s apex. Directly under that apex, the curators had placed some sculptural work which used materials like papier mache, cardboard, and glue. Not exactly the kind of work you want any moisture to get on. That same day the curator boasted to me that some shows feature up to 140 pieces. It all seems like a bloated, undercared for attempt at some sort of public optics win. Tropic Optics again.
Proud to be Pres! Kerry if you somehow see this I hope you actually doing your job instead of coming to class and old talking.
Ture’s given name.
and national identity to some extent
Shit, it would be over faster if more people watched the parliament channel.
Not to idealise these times by the way. Labour movements have always historically earned their power through weaponising the nation’s literal hunger and poverty against the government/companies.
keep it up, bars as always