Deryck Richard­son

Pres­i­dent,

Es­tate Po­lice As­so­ci­a­tion

A blue flame in­di­cates com­plete com­bus­tion, mean­ing fu­el is burn­ing ef­fi­cient­ly with enough oxy­gen and the re­sult is the high­est tem­per­a­tures.

The sight of one thou­sand peo­ple dressed in blue last week, with the blue flame lit, was not just an­oth­er protest. It was a warn­ing. It was a de­c­la­ra­tion. It was proof that labour in Trinidad and To­ba­go is not dead, not sleep­ing, and cer­tain­ly not for sale. There’s a chang­ing of the lead singers, will­ing to use tra­di­tion­al work­ing-class ex­pres­sions and skill­full enough to nav­i­gate the new re­al­i­ties.

The emer­gence of a new Blue Army so ca­pa­bly led by the ex­ec­u­tive of the T&T Reg­is­tered Nurs­es As­so­ci­a­tion (TTNRA) and its mem­bers, most im­por­tant­ly, joined by pro­gres­sive trade unions and as­so­ci­a­tions such as the Es­tate Po­lice As­so­ci­a­tion, the Com­mu­ni­ca­tion Work­ers’ Union, the Steel Work­ers Union of Trinidad and To­ba­go, the Trinidad and To­ba­go Uni­fied Teach­ers’ As­so­ci­a­tion, the Amal­ga­mat­ed Work­ers’ Union, and the Avi­a­tion, Com­mu­ni­ca­tion and Al­lied Work­ers Union, was big­ger than sym­bol­ism. It was the vis­i­ble ex­pres­sion of years of frus­tra­tion, sac­ri­fice, dis­re­spect and ris­ing pres­sure on work­ing peo­ple.

Af­ter 13 years of sus­tained as­sault on in­comes, af­ter protest up­on protest by nurs­es and oth­er groups, what took place was the nat­ur­al re­sult of peo­ple reach­ing the point where si­lence was no longer pos­si­ble. It was a beau­ti­ful ex­pres­sion of peo­ple’s pow­er. Not be­cause protest is pleas­ant, but be­cause re­sis­tance is nec­es­sary when dis­re­spect be­comes pol­i­cy.

What made the day even more sig­nif­i­cant was this: labour, we stood on our own plat­form. The day was not taint­ed by the pres­ence of po­lit­i­cal par­ties look­ing for a mi­cro­phone, a pho­to op­por­tu­ni­ty, or cheap points, a true apo­lit­i­cal plat­form.

That mat­ters. Be­cause work­ers are tired of be­ing used when elec­tions come and ig­nored when it is time to set­tle ne­go­ti­a­tions, im­prove con­di­tions and show ba­sic re­spect.

Nurs­es and oth­er es­sen­tial work­ers are ex­act­ly that es­sen­tial. We are not or­na­ments; we are not dis­pos­able. We are not ma­chines to be over­worked, un­der­paid and then in­sult­ed when we ob­ject.

Every cit­i­zen de­pends on us and any so­ci­ety that claims to val­ue pub­lic health and pub­lic safe­ty must treat us with dig­ni­ty.

Since 2013, nurs­es and es­tate po­lice of­fi­cers have been de­nied the ba­sic fair­ness of time­ly ne­go­ti­at­ed salary in­creas­es, while oth­ers have al­ready re­ceived in­creas­es and moved on to new bar­gain­ing pe­ri­ods. Worse, in some cas­es, we are not even called to the ta­ble with an of­fer. That is not in­dus­tri­al re­la­tions. That is con­tempt. And when peo­ple feel re­peat­ed­ly dis­re­spect­ed, dis­re­gard­ed and dis­crim­i­nat­ed against, they will rise.

That is why the state­ment made in Par­lia­ment by the Min­is­ter of Health, who had been silent be­fore Fri­day, that there is no health cri­sis, was so painful to hear. It re­flect­ed ei­ther dan­ger­ous ig­no­rance or un­ac­cept­able ar­ro­gance. Be­cause when ex­haust­ed work­ers are cry­ing out, when short­ages ex­ist, when pres­sure is vis­i­ble to every­one on the ground, pre­tend­ing there is no cri­sis is not lead­er­ship. It is provo­ca­tion. It is the kind of reck­less talk that push­es a bad sit­u­a­tion clos­er to rup­ture.

The mes­sage from the streets was sim­ple: work­ers can­not be bought with emp­ty promis­es for­ev­er. Good in­dus­tri­al re­la­tions de­pend on com­mu­ni­ca­tion, hon­esty and re­spect be­tween par­ties. Re­move those things and con­flict be­comes in­evitable.

A word to the wise is suf­fi­cient. But if those in au­thor­i­ty con­tin­ue to mis­take pa­tience for weak­ness, if they con­tin­ue to an­swer le­git­i­mate de­mands with si­lence, de­lay and de­nial, then they will cre­ate the very cri­sis they pre­tend does not ex­ist.

Be­cause what was seen in blue was not the peak. It was the be­gin­ning.

And when we, es­sen­tial work­ers, hold to­geth­er the health, safe­ty and se­cu­ri­ty of this coun­try, de­cide we have had enough, no spin, no state­ment, no po­lit­i­cal de­flec­tion will hold the line.

April 10 was a beau­ti­ful day.