ROBERT W. GRIFFITH (1996)
FATHER OF THE MONTSERRAT LABOUR MOVEMENT
the passing of r. w. griffith this past week is a milestone in the history of this island and of the leeward islands. his public life was a mysterious fusion of history and legend, to an extent that makes the man and his life a household icon, in an era when people are searching deep into their past for symbols of struggle, self definition and national pride.
by regional standards, griggith stands tall among the giants ‘who emerged in the thirties and forties as the protagonists of the political momentum for representation of a broadly disenfranchised black populace. they were the founding fathers of the workers’ battle for respect, equity and justice from a priviliged white plantacracy, in an unbalanced and unjust colonial environment.
Griffith’s name is indelibly etched in the sub-soil of the archival memory of the caribbean experience, alongside such luminaries as mcintoch of st. vincent, charles of st. lucia, nicholls of dominica, butler of trinidad, gordon of bermuda, cipriani and richards of trinidad, weidmann of suriname, hugh springer of barbados, etc.
in their own right, they were the pioneering activities, the movers and shakers whose contributions became overshadowed by the labour politicians of the fifties and sixties – bramble, bird, bradshaw, gairy, joshua, price, adams, leblanc, bustamante, et al.
r. w. Griffith’s personal contribution may well be deemed phenomenal in the context of a small and rather luke warm work force that was generally subservient to colonial control, and usually brow-beaten into acquiescence by an unfair and self-serving planter-class. he organised 39 estates and 1800 weekly paid estate labourers and share-croppers in the initial spurt from may 1940 to december 1947.
he dared to challenge the status quo on principle, and hold his head high as a black man, at a time when it was expedient and fashionable to be coloured, high brown, white and propertied. He opted to defy the social order and demand accountability of his peers on behalf of a voiceless, non-literate and unempowered majority.
Years befofe the island could accommodate a black acting commissioner, administrator or governor, and decades before one could boast or a local speaker of the legislature, griffith held the coveted position of deputy president of the legislature in 1952, second in command to the commissioner, local representative to the federal legislature of the leeward islands in antigua, and official delegate to britain and buckingham palace for the leeward islands.
These were offices that griffith held with dignity and poise, always comfortable, nay, even ecstatic, in the glory of his loyalty to royalty. at home, among the landed gentry he was confident and stately. With the cheering throng he was flamboyant, bedecked in his characteristic regalia, the red cape and tie, and complete with book of life; on the picket line and in the courtroom he was charismatic and commanding; and on the public platform he was sensational in his mastery of the vernacular, with its proverbs and riddles; and melodramitic in his manipulation of gesticulation and suggestiveness.
The public forum was his theatre and for him, politics was not war, but a stage on which a game was played in the hope of winning. he was trusting with comrades, fearless in struggle, undaunted by arrest, conviction or fines, but he was unseasoned and unsuited for the comouflage and clandestine attacks required in warfare. He was unsuspecting of the speciousness, ruthlessness and deviousness endemic to politics. So he is now remembered as a successful labour leader, a genteel statesman, and a civil host to marcus garvey, but a less than cunning politician.
His eventual failure at the polls marked a turning point in the enigmatic personality of the man. His usual trust plumutted into cynicism; his firy passion and colorful sensationalism were lulled into stoicism; his ipen vision for a new day in monserrat was transformed into taciturn mysticism. the “red cape and tie” were replaced by the black cat; and the “book of life” left the platform for a sacrosanct spot under the counter, beyond the reach of curious eyes.
As we revisit the life of a man among men we pose a number of rhetorical questions for which the answers are engraved in the corridors of our history:
1. who ruffled the stable colonial waters to stir the social conscience?
2. who made bold to expose injustice like the wind on the rear of a fowl?
3. who defied the awesome presence of colonial penny farthing warships?
4. who braved the threat of imprisonment for the good of a defenceless mob?
5. who eschewed the favour of the historic cotton growers association of 1943 that vehemently resisted the rights and efforts of workers to organise themselves?
6. who stood in the gap of privilege to be an unrewarded advocate for universal suferage?
7. who endured the pain of betrayal by trusted friends?
8. who absorbed the venom and vilification of the very masses he ingenuously but sincerely sought to help?
9. who else could teach us even in his reticence, compelling lessons in thrift and frugality as the cornerstones of prosperity?
10. who else could carve into our consciousness the notion that land, as the undergirding of family security, is a treasured commodity never to be sold?
11. how many scholars and educators have paid tribute to the father of labout and black legislative office in their curricula?
12. how many workers, plagued by the leprosy of exploitation, and cured by the sacrifices of mas bob and his successors, remembered to stop by the shop to pay homage or return thanks?
13. what have successive goivernments and labour leaders done to acknowledge the value of the foundation he laid?
the day of reckoning has arrived. Mass Bob, the first and the last of the early warriors, has closed the opening chapter in our modern history. but what have we learned from his legendary book of life? are we more conscious of our identity as a people of untapped potential? are we any closer to self sufficiency and self determination than we were exactly fifty years ago? do we have a clear national message to transmit to our children and the emerging generation of the 21st century that would vindicate the cause of r. w. griffith?
we have a thompson field but where is emancipation drive? we have sturge park but where is walkinshaw square? we have peebles street but where is march 17 boulevard? we have wash-out pipe but where is ellen perters’ corner? we have marine drive but where is emancipation drive? we have old chapel street but where is robert w. griffith lane?
this island owes it to itself and to mas bob to give due credit and official patriachal recognition to the man and is work. a state funeral, though befitting, is short-lived. ironically, the british warship was at hand to fly its flags at half-mast in tribute to a man the royal navy once came to restrain. the memory of the man must be embossed in concrete and bronze, and not printed in shifting sand. our landmarks, the media and our education system must ensure the preservation of the legacy he created.
my family has lost a friend; my wife, a confidAnt; mawu a forerunner; and i, a counsellor. i share the sense of loss and grief of the family, and extend to them sympathy, prayers and blessings!
in the words of mas bob’s militant chorus of the late forties and early fifties, i say, “hold the fort”.
j a george irish
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