After a long day on campus -- lecturing, meetings,
helping students find advisors for the registration period -- I happened
into one of those new Cable Beach
restaurants for lunch. You know the ones, kind
of swanky but casual in the style that is reminiscent of the Euro-American
bistro movement. I ordered a pint of Kalik draft and a salad to go,
finally exhaling, looking forward to coming home and writing a lit
tle. Out of no where, I see a police car, people getting up and none
other than the Prime Minister darkening the doorway, effortless dimming
the lunch time chatter.
I
’
v
e written and spoke a lot about the Prime Minister
and his policies, but this was my f
irst time being in the same room with him. At
the risk of sounding like a political sycophant, to see him in person
humanized him. It is often true of academics, especially those who study
people, that the people we write about, in our minds, aren
’
t
really
people at all. They tend to be concepts, numbers
or variables in a theoretical scheme -- they are not humans.
My order was up and excited by the prospect
of adding this experience to article I intend to write anyway, I rushed
through the dinning area to
my car. Before I could get to the door a table
seemingly jumped in my way. I bumped it and everything on the table
came crashing down. I stopped, picked up a single wine glass and imagining
that the entire dinning room stopped to see who could be such a k
lutz, in a matter of strides I was out the door. How embarrassing!
On the drive home, I repeatedly replayed the
moment in my head. As is the case with most embarrassing moments, I
’
m
probably exaggerating. In no simple terms,
I was flustered. I mean, if I
know anything, it
’
s
how to make an exit, and with the Prime Minister
and a host of influential people looking on, that damned table got in
my way.
Then it hit me out of the clear blue sky! Why
should I be embarrassed? If anyone knows what it
’
s
like to w
alk into something and see it all come crashing
down, the Prime Minister should. I mean, I can
’
t
think of a better metaphor for the mess that
has become this gaming referendum, apart from
the surrey horse falling dead
on Christie Street perhaps
.
Luckily for me, my ordeal transpired over a
matter of seconds. The conflagration of chaos and confusion that has
come to characterize the agonizingly slow marc
h to what is now an opinion poll on gaming has
dragged on over months and will continue into the new year. In short,
“
D
is ga be long!
”
For me, the question isn
’
t
whether the referendum will pass. At this point,
I
’
m
unconcerned with the egocentric, intell
ectually dishonest, knights in shinning Christian armor here to defend
the hapless Negro Bahamian from the predators that seek to suck the
tithes away from our very pockets. I am similarly unconcerned with the
well-funded, well-oiled
“
S
ay Yes
”
campaign mac
hinery headed by the so called
“
n
efarious
”
characters that, by all appearances, seem to
have the Bahamian government on a money-green leash.
The real important question is, how is it that
the Bahamian people have allowed it to even get to this point?
I
think the value of this question can be realize
through a brief look back at our trajectory up to this moment.
Before the May 2012 general elections, the now
Progressive Liberal Party government promised to,
“
Provide details for a referendum
on a Nationa
l Lottery and gambling in The
Bahamas,
”
in their First 100 Day Plan
for Governance. The details we eventually received were actually on
a referendum for the legalization and regularization of web-shops in
the Bahamas. This did not include the possibility o
f a national lottery upon the
advice of a UK consultancy firm hired by the government.
This advice discouraging a national
lottery was contained in a report, then not in a report but in a few
sheets of paper which the Bahamian people have been unable to r
eview! Not only have the Bahamian people been unable
to review this report-turn-binder full of advice, but we don
’
t
know how much we, the tax payers,
have spent for said advice!
The Prime Minister seems to
have hired this firm to advise us on what would b
e appropriate moving forward
without mention of the cost and without being invoiced. Essentially,
we are left with a report that we can
’
t
see, but that we will eventually
pay for at a cost we don
’
t
know. It must be nice having
the public purse at your disp
osal.
Thankfully, the Bahamian people
have elected a Prime Minister who listens. Despite the advice we can
’
t
see but for which we will eventually
pay, the Prime Minister opted to reintroduce the question of a national
lottery. A date is set. December 3rd
, 2012 the Bahamian people would
head to the polls to decide two questions on gaming in the Bahamas.
Finally, an end is near...except
there
’
s
a small problem. All of sudden
we
’
r
e not even sure a non-constitutional
referendum can be executed by a governmen
t agency like the Parliamentary
Registrar which is apparently mandated by the constitution to carry
out elections and constitutional referendums only.
I don
’
t
know anything about this stuff;
I
’
m
a sociologist. However, with
a House of Assembly populated
by too many lawyers, in my opinion,
and with a government headed by a seasoned barrister, we find ourselves
at a constitutional impasse mere weeks before the proposed date of the
promised referendum.
What makes this even more troubling
is that this refer
endum could - in fact - be a
constitutional one.
As Mr.
Alfred Sears states in The Guard
ian on
November 15, 2012, the source of the discriminatory treatment Bahamians
face on the issue of gambling is found in the derogation clause of Article
26 (4) (e) in the constitution.
While Article 26 (1) states
that no law shall be discriminatory in it
self or in its effects, Article
26 (4) (e) makes the exception when it comes to Bahamian citizens and
gambling. By erasing this clause, Bahamians would be free to engage
in numbers, establish a national lottery and participate in casino gambling.
Putting
aside that the constitution
should be a foundational document that
affirms
the rights of Bahamian citizens,
why have not considered a referendum question that would alter this
discriminatory clause?
I don
’
t
know the answer to this. Again,
I am not a law
yer. It may have something to
do with not allowing the native savages into the casinos, but I
’
m
not going to speculate.
Thus, we arrive at the point
which inspired the question I posed above. Realizing now that new laws
have to be passed to adjust the l
egal framework to accommodate
this non-constitutional referendum, the Bahamian people will now head
to the polls on January 28, 2013.
In the meantime, through his
parliamentary communication, we have gained greater insight into what
might happen if this
referendum passes. For example,
licenses will be granted upon receipt of a $1 million cash bond and
proof of integrity and previous experience in the gaming industry. In
other words, the only people who will get a gaming license are those
who can raise $1
million and who have been engaged
in an industry that is currently illegal. In other words, the government
is asking the people engaged in a now illegal industry to prove their
integrity, as well as pay $1 million from the proceeds of that illegal
industry
. Let
’
s
just say my dreams of opening
“
G
askins
’
Good Luck Number House
”
have been absolutely crushed.
Beyond the bumbling, backtracking,
bewilderment surrounding this referendum, there is a greater issue at
hand. Is this what we are to expect for the fou
r and half long years ahead?
I said in an earlier piece
that no matter your political persuasion we should
all be intent on the s
uccess of the PLP government.
Their exceptional performance is essential to the survival of the Bahamian
people and the maintenance of a high standard of life in a nation that
has long been the modern jewel of the Caribbean. I have to admit, though,
that g
iven what I
’
v
e seen so far, I
’
m
afraid - very afraid.
The Bahamian people have two
options. We can stay silent, go to the polls and vote our conscience
on the limited questions that are borne out of the objectionable context
described above. The other op
tion is that we can say loudly
and emphatically that we will not accept what has been given to us.
Sign a petition
, call your representatives, protest, make your discontent
known, otherwise dis whole ting ga be lon
g.
Joey Gaskins is
a graduate of Ithaca College, Ithaca, NY with a BA in Politics. He was
born in Grand Bahama Island, studied at the London
School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) where he attained
his MSc in Race, Ethnicity and Post-Colonial Studies and has begun a
Doctoral Degree in Sociology. Joey lives in Nassau and is a part-time lecturer at College of the Bahamas. He also writes for
the
Nassau
Liberal
www.
nassauliberal. webs.com
and The Tribune.
You can reach him at
j.gaskins@lse.ac.uk