As the nation shifts its focus from an appropriately subdued celebration of Christmas in solidarity with those dealing with the traumatic consequences of Hurricane Melissa, and faces 2026, there are myriad challenges to be confronted and decisions to be made.

The suggestions as to what should be done are countless, ranging from the ridiculous to the profound, and which will require a level of systematic planning, strategic thinking, and discipline that have not characterised the way in which major decisions have been made by the various stakeholders in decision-making in this country.

All indications point to the fact that we will not only need the financial support that has been forthcoming from various quarters, locally and internationally, but technical support and expertise to augment the human resources currently available within the nation.

Having said all of this, I now add a personal thought of a perspective to be considered in the mix of suggestions and proposals already tabled. The history of British enslavement, imperialism, and colonialism that transpired in Jamaica brought with it a diversity of religious denominations, and with diverse expressions of their ministry as these related to the State and the enslaved population. Each of these established in due course an institution for the local training of pastoral leaders and for ministry among the freed population. These were among the earliest tertiary educational institutions in the island.

These were small institutions, staffed by a few foreign missionaries, working with candidates who had the best of primary education available. As opportunities for secondary education increased, as did the need for more local pastors, it became clear that there was need to improve what these institutions could offer.

The funding of these institutions was primarily from foreign bodies — members of wider global ecumenical ventures in theological education and were concerned that a more sustainable approach to theological education had to be found, and one that would more effectively reflect something of the unity of the church catholic through ecumenical co-operation.

Co-operation among those denominations designated “mainline churches” was nothing new as the Jamaica Council of Churches (formerly known as the Jamaica Christian Council) had been established from in the 1950s. So by the mid-1960s there was among the Jamaica-based denominations a movement towards the sharing of faculties.

There were other factors influencing the movement towards an ecumenical initiative for a single institution for theological education and ministerial training. Developments in the field of education resulted in a more literate and educated population than in pre-Independence decades, and it was determined that the standard of education for ministers for the nation’s churches should be elevated, and with consideration being given to collaboration with The University of the West Indies (UWI) in this project. The option that was subsequently accepted was for the colleges to merge and to become an affiliate of The UWI and with location in proximity to the Mona Campus.

Lands having been secured through negotiation with the Government the big challenge funding construction of this new institution. The majority of the cost was to be borne by external sources, primarily missionary partners of the seven denominational entities that were committed to support the merger. The adage, “He who pays the piper calls the tune” became an operative dynamic in determining the architectural design for what was built in 1966.

Although two of the extant colleges were two-tiered physical structures, it was determined that a multi-level building was too ostentatious for a ministry training institution in the Caribbean of the 1960s. The accepted design was chosen to reflect what was supposed to be a Jamaican village with small dwellings (huts) arranged around a symbolic architectural feature reflecting a church, and with detached bathroom and toilet facilities. All that was missing from the design was the kitchen as a free-standing facility with a fireside. In fact, having created this village concept, the administrators soon found that they exhausted the land space they had secured and had to negotiate additional allocation for the construction of faculty residences. It soon became clear that the entire structural design was patronising and repugnant in many ways, and involved serious concerns related to security and maintenance.

Local church leaders did not focus on the denigration and disrespect that the physical facility represented. It took Hurricane Gilbert to give dramatic expression to the folly of a small campus that was built with 30 cottages for students and 11 townhouses for faculty, as roofs of cottages, bathrooms, and corridors were battered. Had good and pragmatic sense prevailed, the entire facility would have been designed multi-level and would have utilised a fraction of the land space.

The case of Westmoreland, once the most significant sugar-producing parish, highlights the way in which our history of enslavement and colonialism continue to impact our life as a nation. Emancipation offered few options to the formerly enslaved. Most had no place to go besides continuing to live and work on the plantation. There were a few who were able to purchase property, assisted in some instances by churches that established free villages. In order to have some source of income, the emancipated people need to have some land on which to live and to cultivate for satisfying the needs of their family and generating some surplus from which to earn an income. As the planters continued to control the land and the State was not prepared to release Crown lands to this population, the only option was to lease a house spot or a small acreage.

The insecurity that this arrangement meant that no permanent structures could be erected on the land and a lease could even be terminated by the landowner leading to the loss of crops by the tenants. The preponderance of wooden houses in Westmoreland and its continuation, even when lumber is more expensive than building blocks, points to the tenuous situation and vulnerability with which many had to live prior to the hurricane.

Now we are faced with the question of how will the Government respond to this lingering colonial legacy, even as people clamour to have a roof over their head and houses restored as a matter of urgency. What is clear is that restoration, or tinkering with the status quo, is not a solution or a viable option. Pronouncement that there will be an acceleration of the land-titling process to allow for many people to have security of tenure may alleviate but not solve the underlying problem.

Here I want to suggest that there is more to be learnt from Hurricane Melissa than these approaches would suggest. The first is that whatever action we are taking we must begin from the premise that it is designed to make the housing for those displaced or damaged capable of withstanding the next hurricane that comes our way. I am aware of the often-spoken adage that every Jamaican is entitled to a piece of the land. To the contrary, I want to suggest that every Jamaican is not entitled to a piece of the land, but to adequate shelter. This means that not everyone needs to be provided with a single dwelling surrounded by several squares of land. If there is any validity to this position the focus of the Government needs not be on replacing every destroyed or damaged housing unit, especially those occupying lease land. So, beyond the temporary provision of container housing units, that are not themselves, shelter from future hurricanes, there needs to be consideration of the provision of multi-family and multilevel units, utilising current technology. This requires an intentional reduction of single family units of what are clearly of substandard conditions. Such multifamily structures could be surrounded by plots of land which the residents interested in gardening may secure, as done in some cities in the metropolis of the North.

This course of action would also make the life of citizens more secure in time of disaster, given that many Government-provided shelters have proven just as vulnerable as the housing from which people seek escape. Beyond the focus on shelter, it also calls for a rethinking of how we foster community while offering social amenities.

So, while it may be a dream to see the housing units restored once more, we need to be realistic and also realise that we have a moral responsibility to see that citizens have decent and secure shelter. In this regard, there will not only be need to engage people about re-envisioning a future beyond what currently exists, but in so doing we must also pay attention to where our young people are trending. Many of our young people are leaving the land and do not even want their fingers to touch the earth. The trend away from interest in the land is being dramatised by our young educated and professional classes who are opting for apartment living that involves no contact with and care for the land.

Understandably, the impacted as well as those with a social conscience are impatient while awaiting the return of a level of normality to the life of those who remain homeless or covered with tarpaulins and living at the mercy of the elements. Nevertheless, it may take a while to have an appropriate strategy for the restoration of adequate housing for the affected with an approach that does not perpetuate the colonial legacy, but represent a transformational response that affirms the dignity of our people and offering shelter with security.

May God bless our leaders and our people as we go forward in restoring and transforming our land beyond the devastating impact of Hurricane Melissa in 2026.

Howard Gregory

Howard Gregory is retired Anglican archbishop of the Province of the West Indies and lord bishop of Jamaica.