The commentary below has been reproduced unedited from a blog by the British High Commissioner to Trinidad & Tobago, Arthur Snell.
State of Emergency. Three words that might be designed to make your friends and family worry. Immediately, you imagine gun battles in the streets, barricades, ‘emergency powers’.
Since late August, Trinidad and Tobago has been under a state of emergency. This is not the place to go into the reasons for it being called, although the high murder rate in the country (which has been falling) was likely to have been a contributory factor.
Since late August, Trinidad and Tobago has been under a state of emergency. This is not the place to go into the reasons for it being called, although the high murder rate in the country (which has been falling) was likely to have been a contributory factor.
But it is a constitutionally-enacted state of emergency, granting specific powers to the police and military. On the night that it was called it was announced that there would be a curfew in various “crime hotspots” around the country. I was slightly surprised to learn that the High Commissioner’s Residence was situated in a crime hotspot. Another thing you might hesitate to tell your friends and family.
It subsequently transpired that the hotspots were based on parliamentary constituencies and like most Western cities, these regions can contain good and bad areas.
So the first night of the curfew came: the army had been called onto the streets to support the police. I briefed all the High Commission staff, telling them in no uncertain terms not to risk getting caught out in curfew hours – from 9pm to 5am (subsequently adjusted to 11pm - 4am). Trinbagonians can sometimes be inclined to do things at the last minute.
So the first night of the curfew came: the army had been called onto the streets to support the police. I briefed all the High Commission staff, telling them in no uncertain terms not to risk getting caught out in curfew hours – from 9pm to 5am (subsequently adjusted to 11pm - 4am). Trinbagonians can sometimes be inclined to do things at the last minute.
“Don’t take a chance on the curfew” I had said solemnly. Memories of living in the Green Zone in Baghdad in 2006 had flooded back. In Baghdad, being shot by nervous coalition soldiers during the hours of darkness was a genuine risk.
We had a dinner appointment. We agreed to go over early to ensure that we’d leave in time. But somehow, at ten minutes to nine I found myself hustling my wife and daughter into the car. On the very short drive home the streets were deserted. Port of Spain at 9pm is normally awash with congestion, traffic and noise. So, seeing the streets completely empty was eerie. My staff and everybody else in Trinidad had clearly taken seriously the advice not to get caught out.
We had a dinner appointment. We agreed to go over early to ensure that we’d leave in time. But somehow, at ten minutes to nine I found myself hustling my wife and daughter into the car. On the very short drive home the streets were deserted. Port of Spain at 9pm is normally awash with congestion, traffic and noise. So, seeing the streets completely empty was eerie. My staff and everybody else in Trinidad had clearly taken seriously the advice not to get caught out.
As the clock in the car read one minute to go to the start of the curfew I found myself asking how did this happen? Try explaining to London that you popped out with your pregnant wife and three-year-old daughter on the first night of the state of emergency and then failed to get home in time for the start of the curfew.
Happily, the police were not out in force in our particular corner of the crime hotspot and we made it through our gates at about 21:01 without being arrested.
Since that time we’ve been getting used to life in the state of emergency. Like all things, there are pluses and minuses.
Happily, the police were not out in force in our particular corner of the crime hotspot and we made it through our gates at about 21:01 without being arrested.
Since that time we’ve been getting used to life in the state of emergency. Like all things, there are pluses and minuses.
Certain industries, particularly restaurants and other entertainment venues, are of course suffering - although there has been public comment from various business leaders that it is worth it if the problem of violent crime is fixed.
Many ordinary Trinidadians have a long commute to work (this may seem strange for a small island, but heavy congestion renders many journeys very slow). The need to get home in time means that staff must leave their place of work long before the curfew actually begins. For shift workers it has been effectively impossible for some shifts to run.
And of course, there is a bigger downside: in any country, calling a State of Emergency suggests that the normal channels for dealing with crises and challenges have not delivered satisfactory results.
The upside (perhaps counter-intuitively) is the curfew. As a diplomat you get all manner of invitations to do things in the evening. Some of these things are enjoyable, some less so, but they are all work. So, the knowledge that all activities must finish by a certain fixed time in the evening is good for keeping proceedings moving forwards efficiently.
The upside (perhaps counter-intuitively) is the curfew. As a diplomat you get all manner of invitations to do things in the evening. Some of these things are enjoyable, some less so, but they are all work. So, the knowledge that all activities must finish by a certain fixed time in the evening is good for keeping proceedings moving forwards efficiently.
The curfew has another upside, which I almost hesitate to state. It’s quiet. Deliciously quiet all night long. Trinis love to party and they dedicate significant energy and commitment to this endeavour. It’s a very attractive trait and one which makes this a wonderful place to spend a few years of your life. But sometimes, being kept awake on a Tuesday evening by the pounding beat of soca music echoing across the hillside, it gets harder to share the party spirit.
Since the curfew has started I keep meeting people telling me how well they are now sleeping. “It’s so quiet. I’d forgotten what it was like,” is a common refrain. People are rediscovering the virtues of a quiet night in. The Trini party urge cannot entirely be defeated: some people are now holding curfew parties. But these have yet to spread to my neighbourhood.
The other upside, far more significant, is that there has been a huge fall in crime since the state of emergency began. On one level that should be pretty obvious. If you cancel police leave and bring the army onto the streets it’s going to make life hard for criminals.
The other upside, far more significant, is that there has been a huge fall in crime since the state of emergency began. On one level that should be pretty obvious. If you cancel police leave and bring the army onto the streets it’s going to make life hard for criminals.
Understandably, various visitors and British-basedbusiness people have contacted me to ask whether it’s still safe to come to a country going through a state of emergency. My answer is unambiguous: it’s never been safer. There’s never been a better time to come here.
Some people might find that a little hard to credit, but, think about it. If the government prioritises the fight against violent crime and that’s the main thing putting you off a visit, now is the time to come. The only people who might be put off are those who want to party the night away.
Such people do exist. An English rugby club came on a tour to Trinidad and Tobago recently. I think it would be fair to characterise their ethos as play hard and play hard. They acquitted themselves with honour on the playing field. But the second aspect of their tour was going to be slightly more difficult with nightclubs closing early, although it didn’t appear to dampen their enthusiasm.
Such people do exist. An English rugby club came on a tour to Trinidad and Tobago recently. I think it would be fair to characterise their ethos as play hard and play hard. They acquitted themselves with honour on the playing field. But the second aspect of their tour was going to be slightly more difficult with nightclubs closing early, although it didn’t appear to dampen their enthusiasm.
To help forge connections with the sporting authorities in Trinidad we held a reception in their honour,scheduled to avoid any curfew difficulties.
My seasoned serving staff looked on in amazement as nearly fifty strapping young men polished off the beer, wine, spirits and everything else with athletic rapidity. As English pub landlords will be able to tell you, if there’s a closing time at the bar, the pressure to drink at speed is treated as a competitive sport in its own right, one at which my country excels.
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