by Andrew Allen
Someone recently took exception to a column, written some months ago, in which I argued that colonial baggage inhibits our development in many ways, including economically.
My critic’s point was that there can be no harm in retaining such odd vestiges (like the pleasant Octogenarian lady on our currency) that differentiate us from more functional feeling places, especially as we are a country concerned with tourism.
To some extent, my critic is right of course. In direct terms, much of the tradition that we are saddled with in The Bahamas does more good than harm in that it makes us more ‘quaint’ and keeps the tourists happy.
But for ex-colonial societies, the larger picture, which does not concern itself so much with the outward vestiges of the colonial legacy, is far from simple and not particularly rosy.
While the retention of an English Queen as our Head of State and the comical dress, speech and habits adopted by members of our Bar Association on official occasions are among the most ridiculous vestiges of the colonial experience, they are actually among the least harmful.
Far more pernicious is our tendency to suppress the growth of genuine local institutions and our related tendency to stigmatise the appearance of local ideas and value systems that could support such institutions. Sadly, the two sides tend to go hand in hand.
So while it is harmless (though comical) for our highest court and parliamentary officials to be dressed up like 18th century Englishmen when they make decisions on the most serious of matters, it is far from comical that their decision-making will be circumscribed by ideas that do not evolve in harmony with local circumstances.
In a column written some months ago, I suggested that Caribbean parliaments’ historic reluctance to curb the right of an individual to jury trial (although jury tampering has become endemic and routine in some countries) was a demonstration of their flawed reverence for Anglo-Saxon judicial ideals.
As was noted in that column, Britain a few years ago had no such compunctions (and faced no such controversy) when it quietly went ahead and erased centuries of its own tradition by abolishing the right to jury trial in some instances. That it was moved to do so largely as a result of jury tampering by ‘Yardie’ (Jamaican) gangs gives added poignancy.
NATIONAL ACCREDITATION IS NEEDED FOR CHURCHES
In his welcome and intelligent response to my column of the 10th of April, Reverend J. Emmette Weir offered some insightful distinctions between the Bahamian and Jamaican religious leadership communities.
While we may never agree on the legacy of Mr. Edward Seaga in Jamaica, we seem to agree on many things of substance upon which his letter touched.
One of these things is the practical difficulty associated with the proliferation of unaccredited new denominations among Bahamian Christendom.
As I noted in my column, this is a prime reason why giving automatic state power to self-styled religious leaders is so risky. And while the situation in Jamaica may be less risky, given the greater presence there of an established hierarchy, the precedent is one that cannot be good for this region.
However, insofar as my column may have seemed to suggest that there is something inherently negative about either the numerical proliferation of new denominations in The Bahamas or the doctrinal ‘drift’ that such proliferation is bound to engender, that was not its intent.
As noted above, we have in this country (as in most ex-colonies) a harmful tendency to suppress or stigmatise the growth of local values and institutions. This tendency arises especially when those values and institutions are associated with the most “grassroots” segments of our society.
The reaction of many of us to some of the less established churches is a good example. Many Bahamians, including those who belong to the more ‘established’ denominations, reflexively scoff at some of the new practices, including the use of inventive, overly-ambitious sounding titles (Prophetess, Apostle etc.) among the more ‘unofficial’ denominations.
While my column did point out some of the problems of giving official sanction to anyone that invents such a title for himself, it was certainly not its intent to suggest that actual validation must always come from a metropolitan hierarchy outside The Bahamas.
There is, to be fair, nothing more or less intrinsically ridiculous in the idea of a “Prophet” in Binnacle Hill Crooked Island than in the idea of an Archbishop (Gr. ‘lead foreman’) in Canterbury, or a Pope (‘Papa’) in Rome. Where the worrying distinction arises is in the absence of any vetting process (local or foreign) for the former.
Without some kind of official system of recognition, holding one of these titles will never warrant a presumption that the bearer is educated, honest or represents any respectable, articulated doctrine at all. The fact that many of our local church leaders are all of these things gives even greater urgency to the establishment of a system to weed out those who are not.
This is where our politicians fail us so badly. Unlike Jamaica or Barbados, where the spread of the English State religion was far more thorough, we are a more complex picture. A very significant percentage of Christian Bahamians belong to minor denominations or to no denomination at all.
Given the myriad views in our society (including non-Christian ones) this fact gives our politicians a duty, firstly, to maintain the barrier between state and religion and, secondly, to ensure that a solid majority of Bahamian Churches are headed by leaders that adhere to established principles and standards. They can do this only by a vigorous system of accreditation.
Rather than shaking reverently before the pulpit of any self-named pastor that summons them, it is the job of politicians to ensure that people asserting a position of religious leadership in The Bahamas are up to par with their counterparts anywhere in the world.
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