Nation-building in Trinidad and Tobago is an ongoing project. Reconciling deep-seated historical divisions on the one hand, with a shared cultural space and a tension-ridden political reality on the other, remains an ever-demanding, seemingly never-ending task for this multi-ethnic, multicultural, multireligious twin-island state.
The native First Peoples were living their lives here when European imperial expansion interrupted them. Europeans settled, expanded their empires, fought among themselves, brought enslaved Africans to these shores, and later replaced that labour force after Emancipation with Portuguese, Chinese, and, in larger numbers, Indians. Syrians and Lebanese from the Middle East arrived of their own accord, as did some Jews. Immigrants from other Caribbean islands and a sprinkling of Venezuelans also came.
All these people, with separate histories, diverse ancestries, different experiences, and unique cultural contexts, had to learn how to navigate a shared geographic space as best they could under colonial rule.
As participants in a colonial experiment, they were hardly in charge of their own lives and certainly never in charge of the country where they lived and worked, and which they eventually came to regard as home. In time, it became both their birthplace and their country of choice.
When Independence arrived, the population may well have been psychologically prepared. Anti-colonial protests, labour unrest, and colonial brutality at home, together with the global impact of the First and Second World Wars and Mahatma Gandhi’s struggle against British rule in India, had helped shape political consciousness. Yet, perhaps the nation was not fully prepared politically, economically, materially, or emotionally for the formidable challenge ahead.
How does one forge a nation? Did anyone really know?
Gandhi had spoken of Home Rule in India, and Kwame Nkrumah had famously urged: “Seek ye first the political kingdom.” Leaders at home, including Dr Eric Williams and others, undoubtedly had their own vision. Yet, politics soon overtook serious reflection on the complexities of self-government under Independence.
The surprise victory of the People’s National Movement in 1956, the rejection of a supposedly national movement in the Federal Elections of 1958, the repercussions of Dr Eric Williams’ “recalcitrant minority” speech in Penal, the fractures within the West Indies Federation that led to its collapse, the divisive 1961 General Election and the introduction of voting machines, and the constitutional consultations at Queen’s Hall in 1962, where the Opposition staged a walkout before later participating in parliamentary deliberations and engaging the Colonial Office at Marlborough House, all left their mark on the emerging nation.
The settlement of the 1962 Constitution itself was negotiated and mediated at critical moments by Sir Ellis Clarke and Tajmool Hosein, then practising attorneys-at-law. The national anthem, written by Patrick Castagne for the Federation, became our own. Yet even the line, “Where every creed and race find an equal place,” has at times generated discomfort.
Taken together, these developments did not make the task of nation-building easy, even after the red, white and black was hoisted on August 31, 1962. Ours was far from an ideal pathway to forging a national identity, despite “the fires of hope and prayer” burning brightly.
Nevertheless, we pressed on amid the crosscurrents. When Trinidad and Tobago became a republic in 1976 through the actions of a Parliament elected under a one-party majority, after the recommendations of the Constitution Commission were discarded, the country’s defining challenge remained the same: how to construct a cohesive identity from ethnic, cultural, religious, and political diversity.
Listening to the divisive rhetoric that continues to emerge from various quarters today, one realises that nation-building is not only an immensely difficult undertaking, but one that requires tolerance, patience, compromise and painstaking care.
It remains the unfinished work of national leadership. It is the ultimate victory yet to be achieved through collective will. It is a patriotic mission still unrealised, even as our population becomes increasingly mixed, intercultural connections deepen, and calls to tone down divisive race rhetoric grow more urgent.
Nation-building is often guided by a vision, a dream, or an aspiration that stands in constant tension with reality. The United States, long regarded as a bastion of freedom, fought a civil war to end slavery.
Yet, slavery’s abolition in 1865 did not bring an end to the Jim Crow era for another century. Even after the major civil rights and voting rights advances of the Lyndon Johnson administration in the 1960s, some of those gains remain contested today. Progress is rarely linear. Justice, even when pursued earnestly, is often imperfect.
As citizens, therefore, we need not be unduly harsh on ourselves or our leaders. But we must remain conscious and aware. We cannot abdicate that basic responsibility.
It is unwise to pretend that we have made no mistakes along the way. That would be partisan and biased. It is equally wrong to pretend that everything is fine. That would be dishonest and self-satisfied. Nor is it helpful to place all blame on the leaders whom we ourselves elect through democratic choice. We must live with the consequences of their errors, learn from their mistakes, and endeavour to make better choices in the future.
We must build upon whatever legacy has been left to us. More importantly, we must strive to exercise sound judgment and take the steps necessary to unite all our people in spirit and purpose.
Together, we must build the only nation we have, Trinidad and Tobago.
Perhaps we did not simply come together here by chance. Perhaps, just perhaps, our mission is to teach the rest of the world how to live.
