Ruthless

St. Maarten spent the past week remembering Dr. Claude Wathey, the father of modern-day St. Maarten. The speeches and tributes recalled his vision, decisiveness, political strength and role in transforming an island whose people once left in search of work into one that attracted workers, investors and visitors.

Amid the celebration, veteran journalist Eddie Williams offered perhaps the most useful description of Wathey. “The old man was always for the small man. Most mornings, he would stand by Wathey Travel to greet his people. Yet the old man was a viciously ruthless politician, quick to crush any challenge or perceived challenge to his leadership,” Williams said. He said it without malice or any attempt to diminish Wathey. It was simply the truth.

Wathey could be ruthless when he believed he had to be, whether dealing with allies or enemies. He understood power, protected it and used it. That truth should not be removed from his legacy. It is part of the lesson.

His power gave him the leverage to confront central governments, attract investment, expand infrastructure and make decisions that changed the economic direction of St. Maarten. His methods were sometimes hard. His political control was sometimes unforgiving. Yet after nearly every honest recollection of that toughness comes the same important qualification: he never forgot his people.

That is where the comparison with many politicians of the past 10 to 15 years is glaring. Governments have fallen over personal conflicts, wounded pride and excuses that appear frivolous when weighed against the problems facing the country.

Never in the benefit of the people.

Political parties fracture, ministers are targeted, coalitions collapse and institutions are destabilized, while the cost of living rises, housing becomes less attainable and government services become harder to navigate.

Never in the benefit of the people.

Bureaucracy and silo governing have become convenient shelters from responsibility. One ministry waits on another. One department points to another. Procedures are cited, meetings are scheduled, convened slowly, while the person who needs help is told to wait.

Never in the benefit of the people.

Today’s politicians do not need to copy Wathey’s dominance, but they should understand what gave his power meaning. It was not simply that Claude Wathey could crush an opponent. It was that ordinary people believed he would also fight for them. His political strength was connected to a public purpose. Even those who acknowledged his hardest edges returned to the same conclusion: he did what he believed had to be done for his people.

The centennial should therefore force today’s leaders to ask a question more important than how much power they possess: What have they used that power to do for the people?

Because if St. Maarten continues along its present path, frustrated by instability, personal politics and a government apparatus that seem incapable of responding to ordinary needs, the public may eventually begin to yearn for a leader with ruthless power.

Not because people desire ruthlessness, but because many still remember a time when power, however hard it could be, was still used to care for the people.