The Troubles of Sista P.
By ORLANDO PATTERSON
The New York Times
January 9, 2007
Kingston, Jamaica
Thirty-two years ago, a young working-class woman, Portia Simpson, exploded onto the Jamaican political scene with an unexpected electoral victory in the slums of southwestern Kingston, the heart of opposition party turf, dominated by armed political gangs.
Soon after, I accompanied her on a tour of the area in the hope of laying plans for an urban upgrading project. As we approached Rema, a notorious opposition holdout, five gunshots pierced the heat. Dashing for cover, I looked back to see Simpson being reluctantly pulled away by two of her aides. Left to herself, she would have carried on, so deep was her hunger to help the people from whom she had just risen. I thought then that this woman would go far.
She did. Last February, Portia Simpson-Miller stunned the political establishment by outmaneuvering the heir apparent, Peter Phillips, in the struggle to succeed Prime Minister P. J. Patterson, who retired in midterm, and in March she took office as Jamaica’s first female leader. There was national jubilation, especially among women, who wept at the sight of “Momma,” “Auntie Portia” or “Sista P.,” as they lovingly call her.
Even skeptics felt that it was hard to do worse than what the men had achieved for the mass of Jamaicans in abysmal poverty, after four decades of modernization that had benefited only the middle and upper classes. Simpson’s approval ratings soared, and for a heady few weeks the claims of her supporters that the healing hand of a woman was what the country needed seemed borne out. And an almost tactile sense of unity and good will soothed the anxieties of daily life in this overheated polity.
The honeymoon was brief. Hardly two months into her leadership, opposition forces and the media unleashed a barrage of criticisms against her, the gist being that she was hopelessly unqualified for the job. Her modest education, undistinguished performance in Parliament, Creole speech, populism and refusal to face the press have been grist for the media and opposition mill. What turned a tidal wave of criticism into a tsunami, however, was the revelation that a Dutch commodities firm, Trafigura Beheer BV, which does business with the government, had misrepresented a campaign donation of $470,000 that it made to her party. In fact, Jamaica has no campaign finance laws to break, and there is a long tradition of businesses donating to political parties. The government, however, handled the revelation ineptly before returning the money, providing endless fodder for the media.
On Sunday, I had a candid two-hour conversation with Sista P. at her official residence. She is as defiant as ever. At 61, she appears in her early 40s, her youthfulness emphasized by deep bangs hanging over dark, sparkling eyes. She noted that in 2006 the economy grew at one of its fastest rates in years, 2.4 percent, inflation was low, 5.3 percent, and that major crime fell by 20 percent. So why the criticisms?
“Because I’m a woman in a field dominated by men, and because of my background,” she insisted. Why has she been avoiding the press? “I’ve been beaten, banged and bashed by the media,” she said. “They are trying to kill my charisma” because “every time they see me they are looking at the majority of Jamaicans who are poor and they can only think, ‘How dare this uppity woman.’ ” She added later, “As leader, I have the right to refuse to speak to those who misrepresent what I say.”
She dismissed the Trafigura affair as a media exaggeration, the only impropriety coming from the company, which, to circumvent Dutch laws, misrepresented the donation. She is confident of winning the coming elections, although her approval rating in polls is down to 30 percent.
Mistakes have been made, and Sista P. has to change her attitude toward the press, but I share her belief that Jamaica’s patriarchalism and class biases are stacked against her. So, too, is the British parliamentary system that operates here, which requires of leaders a demanding mix of political, debating and executive skills.
Sista P. embraced me and kissed me on the cheek as we parted, and I wished her luck in the coming elections, required by October. She is going to need it.
Orlando Patterson, a professor of sociology at Harvard, is a guest columnist.
The New York Times
January 9, 2007
Kingston, Jamaica
Thirty-two years ago, a young working-class woman, Portia Simpson, exploded onto the Jamaican political scene with an unexpected electoral victory in the slums of southwestern Kingston, the heart of opposition party turf, dominated by armed political gangs.
Soon after, I accompanied her on a tour of the area in the hope of laying plans for an urban upgrading project. As we approached Rema, a notorious opposition holdout, five gunshots pierced the heat. Dashing for cover, I looked back to see Simpson being reluctantly pulled away by two of her aides. Left to herself, she would have carried on, so deep was her hunger to help the people from whom she had just risen. I thought then that this woman would go far.
She did. Last February, Portia Simpson-Miller stunned the political establishment by outmaneuvering the heir apparent, Peter Phillips, in the struggle to succeed Prime Minister P. J. Patterson, who retired in midterm, and in March she took office as Jamaica’s first female leader. There was national jubilation, especially among women, who wept at the sight of “Momma,” “Auntie Portia” or “Sista P.,” as they lovingly call her.
Even skeptics felt that it was hard to do worse than what the men had achieved for the mass of Jamaicans in abysmal poverty, after four decades of modernization that had benefited only the middle and upper classes. Simpson’s approval ratings soared, and for a heady few weeks the claims of her supporters that the healing hand of a woman was what the country needed seemed borne out. And an almost tactile sense of unity and good will soothed the anxieties of daily life in this overheated polity.
The honeymoon was brief. Hardly two months into her leadership, opposition forces and the media unleashed a barrage of criticisms against her, the gist being that she was hopelessly unqualified for the job. Her modest education, undistinguished performance in Parliament, Creole speech, populism and refusal to face the press have been grist for the media and opposition mill. What turned a tidal wave of criticism into a tsunami, however, was the revelation that a Dutch commodities firm, Trafigura Beheer BV, which does business with the government, had misrepresented a campaign donation of $470,000 that it made to her party. In fact, Jamaica has no campaign finance laws to break, and there is a long tradition of businesses donating to political parties. The government, however, handled the revelation ineptly before returning the money, providing endless fodder for the media.
On Sunday, I had a candid two-hour conversation with Sista P. at her official residence. She is as defiant as ever. At 61, she appears in her early 40s, her youthfulness emphasized by deep bangs hanging over dark, sparkling eyes. She noted that in 2006 the economy grew at one of its fastest rates in years, 2.4 percent, inflation was low, 5.3 percent, and that major crime fell by 20 percent. So why the criticisms?
“Because I’m a woman in a field dominated by men, and because of my background,” she insisted. Why has she been avoiding the press? “I’ve been beaten, banged and bashed by the media,” she said. “They are trying to kill my charisma” because “every time they see me they are looking at the majority of Jamaicans who are poor and they can only think, ‘How dare this uppity woman.’ ” She added later, “As leader, I have the right to refuse to speak to those who misrepresent what I say.”
She dismissed the Trafigura affair as a media exaggeration, the only impropriety coming from the company, which, to circumvent Dutch laws, misrepresented the donation. She is confident of winning the coming elections, although her approval rating in polls is down to 30 percent.
Mistakes have been made, and Sista P. has to change her attitude toward the press, but I share her belief that Jamaica’s patriarchalism and class biases are stacked against her. So, too, is the British parliamentary system that operates here, which requires of leaders a demanding mix of political, debating and executive skills.
Sista P. embraced me and kissed me on the cheek as we parted, and I wished her luck in the coming elections, required by October. She is going to need it.
Orlando Patterson, a professor of sociology at Harvard, is a guest columnist.
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