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COPYRIGHT 2004 Plenum Publishing Corporation
"The dons, in short, have carved out small fiefdoms for themselves where they can pretty much operate with impunity. As such, they post a more serious challenge to the sovereignty of the Jamaican state than any foreign power ever did" (Rapley 2003: 28).
During the past 30 years shadowy figures (Dons) have become recognized leaders among Jamaica's urban poor. This was thrown into sharp relief during the 1998 Zeeks uprising in downtown Kingston, which was precipitated by the arrest of an area Don named Zeeks. The riotous episode suggests a change in the power relations between Dons and Jamaican politicians, draws attention to the factors shaping Jamaica's political economy, and begs engaging the political and moral dimensions of Jamaica's marginalized citizenry, especially its urban dwellers. I frame the social position and actions of the urban poor through the concepts of lumpenproletariat and moral economy, underscoring their political possibilities.
The Zeeks uprising provided a window on contemporary Jamaica that challenged the media construction of Jamaica as a paradise for natives and tourists. The view of Jamaica that this window shows is one of:
... a steady state of decay of the economy and society, the increase in crime and social instability, the general paralysis of the black middle class government and the rightwing political opposition, a huge growth in political apathy, and widespread demoralization across all social classes--a "legitimacy crisis" of the first order.... It cannot last forever (Robotham 2001: 464).
While Jamaica's situation is complex, the larger Caribbean islands and mainland states are experiencing crises of governability as well (Girvan 1998). Crime, the growing importance of informal economic activities to public and private sectors, and fallout from deregulating markets combine in ways likely to minimize or undermine programs of social reform aimed at increasing levels of education, employment, and income. This article is not intended to stand as a study of development or the state, although the subject matter is relevant to each. It does seek to offer an alternative but modest contribution to analyzing a few of the pressing issues facing contemporary Jamaica.
First, I open with a vignette that describes how I entered the "social situation." I then discuss some of the central relationships between and among government, politicians, and communities, situating the Don in urban Jamaica. My next move is to address Jamaica's contemporary political economy, focusing on its running crises and deteriorating political status quo. This helps to situate the practices of the Dons, and point toward the conditions that reproduce the lumpenproletariat and their moral sensibilities within inner city communities where formal market institutions are weak and interpersonal relations important. The latter part of this discussion engages Marx's and Engel's conception of the lumpenproletariat as I seek to underscore the political possibilities that circulate around the volatility of weakening political clientelism, the ascendency of the Dons as power holders, and a government constantly flirting with moral and financial insolvency. I then turn to the moral economy of the inner city, exploring sociocultural factors that help explain why garrison residents are loyal to Dons, and how their counter-narratives of rights and justice play out within desires for security in a larger context of social instability. The subtext of the entire discussion grapples with how we can begin to imagine where Jamaica's politically savvy urban poor fit in the situation that Brian Meeks (2000) describes as "hegemonic dissolution," where the established political and economic order is decaying but no clear alterative has emerged.
Prelude
On a breezy September afternoon in 1998, I was driving Rasta Ivey, (1) an octogenarian Rastafarian woman, back to her cottage in downtown Kingston, Jamaica, after spending the morning in the rural hills of Lawrence Tavern district visiting some elder Rastafari. Prior to leaving Lawrence Tavern, we heard a radio announcement warning motorists not to go into downtown Kingston because of a disturbance in the Matthews Lane section. Upon reaching Kingston, we found ourselves in the midst of a battle zone (see maps in Figures 1 and 2).
[FIGURES 1-2 OMITTED]
Rasta Ivey insisted that we push forward and by the time we reached the area of central downtown known as Parade, I heard gunfire exchanges involving large caliber weapons; soon heavily armed soldiers and police were swarming in and around the area. The entire square surrounding the park was littered with rubble, burning trash bins and debris piles, while small but growing groups of angry onlookers were busy erecting road blocks (to hinder army and police vehicles), setting fires, and throwing bottles and rocks at the police and soldiers. I shortly found that much of downtown Kingston had been blockaded by the citizenry.
The day's mayhem began soon after the police audaciously swept into the stronghold of an area Don Zeeks (a.k.a. Donald Phipps) controlled, and arrested him. A day later the police claimed that they had picked up Zeeks to question him about some area homicides and "wounding with intent" accusations, and that he had not been charged with any crime. What was remarkable was that Zeeks, a powerful Don connected to the party in power, was even arrested. Area residents feared the worst for Zeeks, recognizing the potential of the Kingston police for deadly violence. Within a few hours of Zeeks' arrest a throng of more than a thousand people had gathered outside the Central Police Station on East Queen Street. They were demanding Zeeks' release. By midafternoon the downtown Kingston shops and stores had closed, and barricading, rioting, and heavy-handed police actions began. By the next day the indignation and actions had spread beyond West Kingston's political garrison boundaries.
A central feature of the Zeeks uprising was the demographic composition of the demonstrators. The Zeeks uprising was led not by workers, students, middle class professionals or elites, but by Jamaica's most marginal class: the urban lumpenproletariat. The majority of the protestors were of the ranks of the "hardcore" unemployed and unemployables, and those permanently attached to the informal economy. The lumpenproletariat and the Dons, indirectly, reflect some of the greatest challenges facing contemporary Jamaica.
Dons and Patronage Politics
Jamaica's two political parties, the Peoples National Party (PNP) and the Jamaican Labour Party (JLP), implemented in the 1970s a strategy of using locally recognized power holders ("area leaders") as a means of maintaining political mobilization capacity and reinforcing political authority. The area leaders typically were charismatic community residents, capable in their organizing and political savvy. In Kingston and nearby Spanish Town the term area leader has now become synonymous with the "Don." (2) The designation Don is local parlance for a politically connected local leader who wields power, status, and prestige derived from multiple sources and activities, legal and illegal. The name explicitly draws on the idea of the mafia don, but also transliterates the Spanish usage, which denotes rank and authority. However, not all area leaders are Dons, and a distinction should be made between a gangster and a Don, as the latter typically provides social welfare and informal justice services (Charles 2002).
The clientelism characteristic of Jamaica's politics has its origins in the patronage relationships between landowners and the rural poor, and in the emphases placed on personality and charisma in religion and politics (Payne 1994). As modern party politics took hold and the role of agriculture in the political economy changed, politicians became a primary means of patronage dispensation, particularly in urban areas. Involved in these clientelistic nexuses are Jamaica's unions, but this aspect is not detailed here. Carl Stone's (1980) model of clientelist politics presupposes competition for scarce resources (jobs, educational opportunities, community development, etc.) whereby parties serve as redistributive mechanisms. Within this configuration of patronage and resource allocation the area leader has become an increasingly central figure in the relationships between government, its resources, and the citizenry. The Ministry of Local Government, through Parish Councils and the Social Development Commission, allocates each member of parliament (MP) monies for their constituencies' social and economic programs. A significant portion of the constituencies of Kingston and Spanish Town are regulated enclaves called garrison communities. A garrison constituency is a community dominated by one of the two major political parties, and zealously guarded by paramilitary units that ensure that community members vote for the party that controls the garrison.
Smith (in Hall 1997: 100-101) and Patterson (2001) suggest that the foundation for garrison communities had been laid during the mid-to-late 1960s, and that by the 1967 general election gunmen were being deployed by politicians as a means of disciplining voters. Today, of 60 electoral constituencies in Jamaica, eight are indisputable garrisons (all in Kingston and Spanish Town), while another seven have garrison features, but are not completely dominated by a single party (Charles 2002).
The relationship between the MP and the Don influences the connection between party and garrison community. State funds are discharged to Dons under guises such as initiating development projects in the garrison communities. Projects range from home-building ventures to drainage cleaning, but may include "community" street dances. State resources, in an environment of material scarcity, are the spoils the politician uses to encourage voter loyalty, along with the perpetual threat of violence. It is the Don who oversees this arrangement on behalf of the politician, and for his own self interest, in terms of authority and money. In return, the politician assures the Don protection from the law.
The patronage-area leader arrangement has worked for the political parties, despite it being inimical to democracy and the rule of law. It has provided the political parties a guaranteed base and made them relevant in the minds of garrison residents. If the JLP wins a national election, they reward their constituents by sponsoring token development projects within their strongholds. Conversely, if the PNP wins, the same strategy is carried out in their strongholds. This arrangement redistributes resources, neither wholly through official state mechanisms, nor in any form that approximates equity. Whichever party wins must reward their area leaders who in turn decide how to use the patronage and their own money. Some Dons pay children's tuition, uniform and book fees, provide neighborhood security, sponsor neighborhood parties, and may help their poverty-stricken wards buy food and clothing. These practices are Jamaica's widely known but well-hushed secret.
This political and economic arrangement has eroded to the point of potentially metamorphosizing into something qualitatively different. On Wednesday, September 23, 1998, the Zeeks uprising began as a riotous protest. Zeeks is the Don of the Matthew Lane section of downtown Kingston, a PNP stronghold adjoining the key JLP garrison, Tivoli Garden. (3) As noted, the circumstances surrounding Zeeks' arrest were vague, fueling speculation that Zeeks would be harmed...
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