O was some Power the giftie gie us

To see oursels as ithers see us!

It was frae mony a blunder free us,

An’ foolish notion . . .

The Scottish people celebrate Robert (Bobbie) Burns for the same reason Jamaicans celebrate Louise Bennett. By penning some of his best poetry in the Scottish dialect, Burns is widely hailed for preserving his mother tongue, and for creating “an enduring Scottish identity at a time when it could have been subsumed into a general British culture”.

As globalisation sweeps the planet, with its presumptions of uniformity, some of us recognise an even greater imperative to preserve our authentic cultural self, represented by, among other markers, our mother tongue.

Pretentiousness, which accounts for much of the negative attitude toward patois, is not unique to Jamaica. I maintain, though, that it is just more incongruous here, juxtaposed against certain historic, social, political and economic realities. Consider, for example, that the dude who accumulates wealth through drugs, or some other nefarious activities, believes that he is socially and morally superior to his yardman who cleans up behind the dogs to make an honest living.

Pretentiousness is the theme of one of Burns’ best known poems: To A louse. In the piece, a high society woman is seated in church dressed in the fashion of the day. A louse is crawling all over her hat, unknown to her, of course, but visible to those behind. The poem laments our inability to see the things about ourselves that are completely absurd to onlookers, profoundly embarrassing even.

We would be immediately disabused of our pretensions, if only we could see ourselves through each other’s eyes, is the didactic conclusion.

Imagine that instead of looking down in arrogance at those whom they are elected to serve, politicians look with humility, and instead of any of us looking with contempt at another, particularly on the basis of superficial notions, we look with recognition of a common humanity and common vulnerabilities.

Individually and collectively, it could be a very useful exercise to consider for a moment how our actions are seen through the eyes of others.

Here, Mrs Carla McCalla-Francis, the principal of Kensington Primary and firm proponent of beating mathematics and language arts skills into children’s heads, comes to mind. In her mind, she is well-intentioned no doubt, but in her zeal, she comes across as unhinged and her school as Jonestown lite – a place so disparaging of the children it is intended to serve, and so autocratic and stifling that it cannot be a healthy place. Minister of Education Ronald Thwaites stepped in decisively. I hope he will go further and have McCalla-Francis seconded to the correctional services department.

Nationally, I wonder how, as Jamaicans, we are perceived by people from elsewhere – diplomats and representatives from the international development agencies, professionals and business people who live in the country and who are able to make cogent comparisons between our societies and theirs. There are those from places that are far more dysfunctional than Jamaica, but the reference point must always be the best – where we would like to be, rather than the worst – what we are happy that we are not. As the saying goes, no one rises to low expectations. The latter, therefore, must never be the measure.

So, what do people think of the fact that Kingston does not have a reliable water supply, garbage collection and disposal system, or an efficient transportation system?

What do they think of the fact that so much energy and resources are invested in having a good time by all, public and private sector alike, but comparatively little into developing and implementing systems that work to enhance efficiency, productivity and good governance?

What about Opposition leader Andrew Holness? How do others see him? In the absence of research, I speak only for myself. I see him as essentially well-meaning with something to contribute. The question is, “What?” Like all of us, I see him being able to benefit from some deep self-analysis: Who am I? What do I believe? What are my core principles? How can I make a difference while remaining true to those principles?

In the broader JLP leadership, I see Delroy Chuck as a largely unfulfilled promise. I am so determined to believe that my brilliant professor did not become a wuss once he became a politician, I am prepared to hold out. As for the others, I imagine that I was the winner of last week’s $588 million Powerball jackpot and being able to buy all of them a dream retirement now.

It’s all about the law of diminishing returns, and that other principle in the humanities: the best predictor of future behaviour is past behaviour. Our inadequate mother tongue captures the principle well too: Wha gaan bad a mawnin, kyaan come good a evenin’.

This brings me to our government and its penchant for spending money like they know how to pass IMF tests. From the $700 million Jamaica 50th anniversary party to the 16 SUVs and everything else in between, there are real questions to be asked about how public funds are being spent.

How, in the context of struggle and suffering, can the people’s money be spent with what seems like less than casual thought? What is the commitment here to good governance, social justice, ethical and moral leadership, or even common decency?

Do these attributes matter and if so, how should we measure them?

Is anyone in the hierarchy concerned that the government is increasingly looking like a fashionably dressed woman with her head full of lice?

Grace Virtue, PhD, is a public affairs specialist and independent scholar based in Washington, DC.

gvirtue@usa.net