#BTSpeakingOut – Who is your head of state?

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by this author are their own and do not represent the official position of the Barbados TODAY Inc.

by Carl Moore

“Just try explaining to a Latin American why the British Queen is still our head of state,” wrote Peter Laurie in “Head of State hesitancy” last Saturday. Or to certain Africans, I would add. I tried that with a taxi driver taking me to the airport one early morning in Alberta, Canada, in 1998.

He was an immigrant from the Republic of Sierra Leone and we immediately started a conversation. He asked: “Where are you from?” I replied: “Barbados, in . . . .” He interrupted and finished my sentence with: “Oh yes, in the Caribbean. Proud people.”

I nodded approval in accepting the compliment as he put another question: “Who is your head of state?” “The Queen,” I answered. “What’s the name of your queen?” he inquired.

“Elizabeth,” I replied. A long pause ensued as he looked out his window at the sprawling Alberta prairie, obviously preparing another question.
“Elizabeth?” he probed. “Yes, Elizabeth, the Queen of England,” I offered. “But, I don’t understand. That lady is the Queen of England. Is she still the Queen of Barbados, even now that you are independent?”

I managed a response to the effect that as a member of the Commonwealth, Barbados retained the Queen of England, who is the head of the Commonwealth, as our head of state.

Unimpressed, he rejoined with an almost pitying: “Naaaaw, man. You must get your own queen.” And, as if by way of relieving me of my temporary unease, he switched to cricket.

He mentioned “Sobers”, to my surprise.

“Sir Garfield Sobers,” I said proudly, whereupon he returned to the subject of nationhood, this time with a solution.

“You should make him your head of state, then!” he said seriously.
As he pulled up alongside the departure area of Calgary’s tidy international airport. I paid him the fee, with a hefty tip; we shook hands and said goodbye.

Before he drove off, while still shaking hands, he pulled me close and said. “Make sure your country does not become a banana republic, like some of mine back home in Africa.” As I said the year was 1998, just about the time the Report of the Constitution Review Commission was laid in our House of Assembly.

After promising that Barbados would become a republic before the end of 2005, Prime Minister Owen Arthur made another promise: it would happen the following year.

It never did. The matter died.It would return in 2015, with a similar promise from another Prime Minister — Freundel Stuart.

He told a partisan audience in St. George South: “We cannot pat ourselves on the shoulder at having gone into Independence; having decolonised our politics; . . . having decolonised our jurisprudence by delinking from the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council and explain to anybody why we continue to have a monarchical system. Therefore, the Right Excellent Errol Barrow decolonised the politics; Owen Arthur decolonised the jurisprudence and Freundel Stuart is going to complete the process.” It didn’t happen.

It takes national pride to understand the meaning of republican status. As long as we are confronted with “What’s in it for me?” or “What will be the price of my puddin’ ‘n’ souse next Saturday?” there will be no acceptance of this worthy concept.

National pride is formed in the churning crucible of sacrifice, challenge and setback. I’m not sure that has been our experience recently.