Not a penny more for parliamentarians

Daniel Thwaites

Published in last Sunday's Gleaner were findings that Jamaican legislators were among the worst paid in the region. We've been paying for what we've been getting. Or getting what we've been paying for!

Even without that report, I had been meditating on Daryl Vaz's five per cent salary giveback, which I reasoned was much appreciated, even though it wasn't much in dollar terms.

Some investigative research had led me to conclude that the MP's monthly $250,000 will leave him with about $25,000 for personal living expenses after you minus out the political cell phone, SUV and gas, parliament-appropriate monkey suits for uniform, and a little money to give away.

One respondent wanted to know why the politician's cellie bill is so high. There is, after all, no cost to receiving calls, so it matters not that the MP has about 50,000 constituents to answer. I had estimated the bill at $35,000, but explained that it was most likely an underestimation.

So here's 'how de ting goh'. The MP receives a quick call or text message, often from an unknown number, in which the constituent demands an immediate callback. The typical text orders: 'Call me!' Woe be unto the MP who doth not respond; surely, thy house will fall. That's how the costs accumulate.

MORE PERTINENT INJECTION

Another interjection was more pertinent. I had neglected to include in my clothing estimate that a separate funeral wardrobe has to be part of the MP's kit. In fact, the best MPs become professional funeral attendees, to the extent where there are stories about ex-MPs who continue to attend random funeral services out of raw habit. One MP once confided to me that he now knew the whole funeral ritual by heart, but also wished that the pastors would add some variety to the preaching.

Then there's the delicate issue of 'special friends'. This is a concern because every wise man has an insurance policy. "Insurance policy," you ask? Hold your horses! I'll explain.

Since the most damning political accusation is that "him is a chi-chi man", and since that accusation is so liberally applied, the MP has to arm himself against these poison arrows of outrageous fortune. Best practice in 'The Politician Handbook' is to always have a female in any random crowd who will rush to your defence. Hence, the custom is to have a string of women who can vouch for you if and when 'dem augument deh raise'.

In the last generation, the rule of thumb was that 10 women per 100,000 were about adequate to defend one's reputation. On those numbers, with a population of two million adults (roughly one million women), this meant having 100 girlfriends per MP. More accurately, it meant one wife and 99 girlfriends. Nowadays, I can report that there is near desperation, and you can do the numbers and see why. The costs are staggering! Plus, to paraphrase Shabba, everyting ah raise, so yuh know weh dem a do?, dem waan raise de price of de ... .

A friend asked me: "Is it wise to invest a man with power then ensure that whenever an important decision is being made, he is likely the lowest-paid person in the room?" My answer: "Absolutely! Of course, it does!" That's why I've endorsed Daryl's five per cent payback, but I'll go further: not a penny more for the parliamentarians!

Look how well it's been working! Since MPs are paid less than ministers and permanent secretaries, when the MP approaches them to beg road, 'wata', or any other service, there's no question about who is boss. The system is designed to keep MPs humble, and humility is a virtue. And rather than getting too comfy with the MP work, he will dream of becoming minister, which is ambitious, an' dem mus have ambition.

One question that naturally arises is: Given these pressures, how does hard-working MP Vaz get by? This is a deep mystery, something like how wata walk guh ah punkin belly? I wouldn't know ... . Lawd Gawwwd! I wouldn't knowww! How wata walk goh ah punkin belly? Wata walk guh deh doh!

CLASS DIVISIONS

Where should legislators fit in Jamaica's class divisions, I wonder? Are they to live in solidarity with the poor like Monsignor Ramkissoon, or relatively middle class, perhaps like a senior policeman or a doctor? And what are the consequences of either choice? Interestingly, paying representatives who weren't independently wealthy a liveable wage was once considered quite revolutionary.

There are (at least) two Jamaicas, one part that can be mistaken for a Brazilian favela, and the other for Miami. In the favelas, $100,000 is a life-altering fortune, while in the other, it's a month's car payment and a phone bill, but not that much of a big deal. I think the hapless MP is caught in the web of managing the relationship between these different Jamaicas, each smouldering in anger.

Anyway, while I'm completely on board with the requirement that leaders be independently wealthy, I'm struggling with the new requirement that they also be completely inhuman and devoid of thought, emotion, and a spiritual life. It's the only way I can understand the reactions to Peter Bunting's innocuous little prayer and revelation that he's doing some soul-searching on the job.

I consider the truthfulness a welcome change. The last minister of national security spent time trying to convince everybody in Kingston they had had a collective hallucination of an American spy plane during the Tivoli incursion. I'd rather not pursue the thought too far, because I think Dwight Nelson is a decent man who was swept up into becoming the first government official anywhere to try to convince his populace to believe in UFOs. I'm pretty certain it belongs in the Guinness Book of Records.

I hope Mr Bunting doesn't draw the lesson that Jamaica has evolved into prizing robotic deadheads over flesh-and-blood human beings trying to do a good job. Even though that's exactly what has happened.

Daniel Thwaites is a partner of Thwaites Law Firm in Jamaica, and Thwaites, Lundgren & D'Arcy in New York. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.