ORIGINS:
The State of Anguilla, AD 1998[1]
Cultural anthropologists recognise at least
four categories of human society. There
is the band, the tribe, the chiefdom,
and the state. Let us look at each of these, and see if we
can apply their characteristics to the island of Anguilla. My aim in this little exercise is to explore how
safe it is to invest your treasure in Anguilla.
The band. The
band was the earliest and tiniest society known to humankind. The archaeological record shows that the band
consisted typically of less than 100 people, mostly related by birth or
marriage. Typically, the band lacked a
permanent, single place of residence.
Its land was used jointly by the whole group. All able-bodied persons foraged for
food. There were none of the formal
institutions we have in the modern state, such as laws, police or
treaties. With all members of the band
related to both of any two quarrelling individuals, any fight was soon ended by
the mediation of concerned onlookers.
All human beings are thought to have lived in
bands until about 40,000 years ago. Indeed,
most people lived in bands as recently as 11,000 years ago, ie, at the end of
the last Ice Age. Our closest animal
relatives, the gorillas and chimpanzees, still live in bands. The band was the political, economic and
social organization that we inherited from millions of years of evolutionary
history. Today, bands of humans are
found only in remote parts of New Guinea and Amazonia. The majority of us have moved on.
The tribe. Improved
technology for extracting food allowed some bands of hunter-gatherers to settle
in permanent dwellings in resource-rich areas.
This led to the second stage of human development. As shown by archaeological evidence, tribal
organization emerged 13,000 years ago in the Middle East. At that time climate change and improved technology
combined to permit abundant harvests of wild cereals. Tribes began to form. The tribe differed from the band mainly in
being larger than the band. The tribe
typically consisted of hundreds rather than dozens of people. The tribe usually had no fixed
settlement. Like the band, the tribe
lacked a bureaucracy, police force and taxes.
Every able-bodied adult, including the “big man”, participated in
growing, gathering or hunting for food.
Full-time craft specialists were lacking. Most of the independent tribes, who until
recently occupied much of New Guinea, Melanesia and Amazonia, have now been
subordinated into nation states. Beginning
several thousand years ago, most tribes evolved into the next stage of human civilization,
the chiefdom.
The
chiefdom. The third stage of human political
development is the chiefdom. Chiefdoms
first emerged in the Fertile Crescent by 5,500 BC, and by 1,000 BC in
Mesoamerican and the Andes. The chiefdom
consisted typically of several thousand people.
One person, the head-chief, exercised a monopoly on the right to use
force. The food surplus generated by the
commoner went to feed various sub-chiefs, their families, bureaucrats and the
craft specialists who made the canoes or adzes, or worked as bird-catchers or tattooists. While tribes and bands relied on reciprocal
exchanges of gifts, chiefdoms developed a new system termed a redistributive
economy. The head-chief would receive
surplus food from every farmer, and then he would either throw a feast for
everybody, or else give it out again gradually in the months between harvests. Most chiefdoms have now evolved into the
modern state. It is arguable that the
chiefdom continues to exist only in what are called dictatorships.
The state. We
know from the archaeological record that the final stage, the state, began to
arise in about 3,700 BC in Mesopotamia.
In Mesoamerican the date for the state is about 300 BC, while in West
Africa it was about 1,000 BC. Typically,
the population of a state usually exceeds 50,000 persons. Initially, the paramount chief’s location
became the state’s capital city. A city
differs from a village in its monumental public works, palaces, and government
buildings, accumulation of capital from tribute or taxes paid, and
concentrations of people other than food-gatherers. Economic specialization is more extreme in
the state. Food is produced by
specialist groups of farmers, herdsmen, fishermen, and gardeners, instead of by
generalists who do a bit of everything as in bands and tribes.
Even small states have more complex
bureaucracies than large chiefdoms. In a
state, internal conflict resolution is formalized by the establishment of laws,
a judiciary and police. With such a
large population, the onlookers to a quarrel or fight were unlikely to be
related to both parties. They were,
therefore, unlikely to mediate to prevent violence. Binding rules of conduct, or laws, began to
develop. In a state, the laws are
written. Many early states had literate
societies. In both Mesopotamia and
Mesoamerica writing was developed at about the same time as the formation of
states. By contrast no chiefdom
developed writing. The state is
organised on political and territorial lines.
By contrast, bands, tribes and simple chiefdoms are defined by
kinship. State bureaucrats are selected
at least partly on the basis of training and merit, not on the basis of kinship,
as in a chiefdom.
Anguilla. In Anguilla
almost everyone is related to everyone else.
A second-generation US- or UK-born of Anguillian ancestry is welcomed
back as “one of us”. The highest
compliment is to be called a “son of the soil”.
An unrelated resident, no matter how long he has lived in Anguilla, will
likely always be considered a foreigner.
Kinship, not citizenship, is the dominant determinant for acceptance
into the Anguillian community. Few of
the big chiefs or the sub-chiefs will have completed a secondary education and
be qualified to be described as being able to read and write. These are the familiar characteristics of the
tribe or band.
Hunter-gathering is a characteristic of the
band. With a stretch of the imagination
one can consider that there are nomadic bands of Anguillians pursuing
hunter-gathering existences in the forests and savannahs of Perth Amboy, New
Jersey, and Slough, England. Locally,
foraging activities are carried out, often with semi-official encouragement, in
the freezers and store-rooms of foreign owned restaurants and hotels in
Anguilla.
In Anguilla, reading and writing skills have
been substituted by watching moving pictures on small screens. No one in Anguilla reads, is a familiar
boast. Laws and regulations, the
characteristic of the modern state, are regularly ignored by the locals, even
if strictly enforced on the foreigner living among us. So, building regulations and planning rules
are applied selectively and mainly to foreigners. Planning laws and Regulations are seldom
applied to Belongers, and never to the chiefs.
When a copy of the rules is requested, the usual explanation given is
that the rules have not been written down, but that they are binding when
applied. Thus, in Anguilla today we find
many of the characteristics of the early band or tribe.
In other respects, the island shows signs of
being a chieftainship. Certainly, the
size of the population is too small to justify its being considered a
state. The big-chief syndrome replaces
the rule of law. Decisions of the
Executive Council, the Court and the Legislature are frustrated with impunity
by the will of any strong chief or sub-chief.
To obtain a Licence, obeisance must be paid, and tribute laid at the feet
of one or more sub-chief, to personally placate him and acknowledge his
authority. Gifts for such licences and
permits ensure their swift processing.
So, the Work Permit for every foreign worker must be personally approved
by the Minister. Traditionally, in
Anguilla such Work Permits are not granted on the basis of any regulation or
principle, but arbitrarily on the basis of favour and personal whim. Once granted, the Permit must be renewed
annually through a solicitation procedure designed to debase and degrade the
less-fortunate applicant. Some
government agencies and private enterprises apply rules and regulations not on
the basis of law, but on the basis of kinship or personal instructions from an
important chief. Certificates that
should be issued as of right are sometimes inexplicably held up until word
comes from “above”.
Until 40 years ago, Anguilla had no
Legislature, Executive or real Judiciary.
The High Court that sat in Anguilla was considered foreign, as the judge
came from overseas, and its decisions disrespected. Few major governmental edifices existed. Subsistence agriculture was the dominant
economic activity. Smuggling provided a
variety of food and drink, and substituted for a successful cash crop.
Today, our principal economic activity can be
seen as a variation on the once-honourable occupation of wrecking. The lanterns on the coconut trees that once lured
treasure-laden ships onto the reefs for pillaging have been replaced by the
visits of overseas investors. The
investor is expected to attend on various local island chieftains. They then invite the visitor to bring some of
his capital to the island. They hint at
full cooperation, duty-free concessions, and untaxed profits. Once the investor has been committed, every
effort is turned to forestalling his project as long as possible from becoming
a profitable concern. Further tribute in
one form or another paid to the chieftain may once again smooth the way. Local observers joke that the island’s airport
seems to have been deliberately constructed so that the arriving bright-eyed
prospective investor can have no eye contact with the departing, frustrated and
bankrupt investor.
A large, successful, foreign-owned hotel is not
always an unmitigated blessing in the eyes of the local chief who in the first
place induced the investor to put it there.
It could become a competing centre of power and influence that puts the
chief in a quandary. Loss of influence
or control might become threatening. If
and when this happens, the investor is held responsible for every problem. He is subdued and gently humiliated by
finding crucial permits, licences and exemptions arbitrarily refused. This clever, age-old tactic effectively keeps
the investor constantly off-balance, duly submissive, cooperative, and gushing
with tribute.
To mix and change the metaphor some more, the
elite (in local dialect “the Executive Committee”) exploits the labour of the imported
slaves (recipients of work permits) and the wealth, skills and talents of captured
foes (code-named “investors”) who labour in the fields to construct public
monuments and palaces (dubbed “hotels”) to the honour, glory and fame of the
chieftain.
The hunter-gatherers of a generation ago who
foraged in the arid fields of pigeon peas, Indian corn, and sweet potatoes, or
harpooned fish on the reef, to keep body and soul together, have been succeeded
by their children. The crop has now
changed to ‘plane-loads of tourists who arrive annually with the change of the
season. Once here they are expertly
cultivated and cropped. Suspicion of
these visiting foreign possessors of a different culture, and with bottomless
pockets, is encouraged by the chiefs and would-be chiefs alike. In this way the chiefs coerce their tribesmen
to maintain them in their high positions of exploitation.
In light of
all the above, it is clear that Anguilla is principally a chieftainship. We still have a long way to go before we can
be called a modern state, ruled by law rather than by men.
28 July 1998
Revised 8 August 2014
Revised 3 June 2017
[1] This article was first published in Anguilla
Life Magazine to commemorate the occasion when the island’s Chief Minister
visited a foreign-owned hotel, which had recently fired a member of staff
caught stealing from the kitchen. By
threatening to withhold work permits required for foreign management, he
successfully “persuaded” the hotel owner to return the larcenous member of kitchen
staff to happy employment in the kitchen.
This instance of bad governance instead of being condemned was hailed by
the Chief Minister and his followers as evidence of his great patriotism,
leadership, and love of his people.
