THERE is a quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark’, that rings true of the sorry and at times farcical political climate in Jersey in the run-up to the first general elections of ministerial government.
The line is often borrowed by political commentators to suggest that things are unsatisfactory or there is something wrong, and who among us can argue that everything in the States’ garden is rosy?
Islanders have grown so accustomed to poor decision-making, procrastination, the power of the ‘old boys’ network’, public overspending and such like that they just take them, one after another, in their stride. Notwithstanding a resigned complacency reflected in the apathy at election times, there is a growing concern that Jersey is being taken down a road that the majority do not want to follow.
The political consensus and sense of community that has underpinned the Island’s post-war stability and maintained, for the most part, our enviable lifestyles is under threat.
The international publicity surrounding the Haut de la Garenne investigation has rocked the Island to the core. The world’s eyes are upon us: the Island is no longer famous for pretty cows, new potatoes and Bergerac, but alleged child abuse over generations, politicians airing their personal grudges and petty squabbles in the national media and a police force apparently unable to distinguish a coconut from a human skull. The whole sorry, and for the victims heartbreaking, saga has been a massive wake-up call.
Add to that the waterfront fiasco, the obscenely expensive traffic ‘improvements’ at Bel Royal and the arbitrary decisions of certain ministers, all rising in the public domain like apparitions of the late King of Denmark, and, while there is no evidence to suggest corruption, there is indeed something wrong in the state of Jersey.
Setting our insular woes against the global credit crunch and escalating fuel costs is enough to make Rip Van Winkle lose sleep. I am a deep sleeper, but of late I find my slumbers disturbed – and not by the Jack Russell stirring at the foot of the bed.
In the words of the leaders of the hip vanguard movement of Sixties California, The Mamas and The Papas, the darkest hour is just before dawn (or an hour later should Senator Jim Perchard win his referendum).
Accuse me of being a cynic – which I am – but could this referendum be a diversionary tactic to draw public opinion from the issues that ought to dominate the autumn elections?
My recent broken sleep coincided with the moment when the alarm clock, which in daylight cowers by the bed like a wee timorous beastie, took on the persona of a lump hammer. Then it happened: an annoying tune stuck in my brain and I faced the daunting task of emptying all thoughts before re-entering the land of nod.
It was not a tediously repetitive Kylie Minoguesque dirge, but the tune that accompanies our flying banana brand. Ah, the controversial banana has paled into insignificance, having been superseded – or buried – by the GST debate, the waterfront, Bel Royal roadworks et al. So many controversies to worry about … just where is a girl supposed to turn? Not so much burying unwelcome news, rather starting an avalanche of spin and overwhelming the public interest.
The banana (sorry, rising golden bird) and that dreadful orchestral piece composed to accompany its soaring aspirations, and employed as phone call-holding muzak by States departments, does nothing to conjure up any vision I have of an Island which I pride myself on knowing very well.
Both banana and tune are part of the so-called Life Enriching branding, neither of which bears any relevance to Jersey other than in the mind of the marketing executives who dreamed it up at great expense just because it is trendy to rebrand and, hey ho, every other country has a brand image so why not Jersey! I do not feel enriched and, apart from the company that pocketed the cash, I doubt if anyone else does.
Nonetheless, the image of a banana has sprung to mind on many occasions since it was adopted every time one of our politicians or public figures slips up. We should eschew the banana in favour of its skin.
Back to bed and the sleepless night. There I laid humming that damn tune and nothing of any worth on the radio to drown it out, when, heavens knows why, as I metaphorically counted jumping sheep my thoughts turned to the States – or as I fondly called them in my days when I reported on their business, Charlie Chuckle’s Laughter Factory, now led (if that is the right word) by the Council of Ministers, or the Chuckle Brothers and Sister.
There were times, when pushed out of the JEP office in the direction of the House with pad, pen and laptop in hand, that I would rather have undergone root canal work without anaesthetic then spend a watch in the Press box.
The States of today are not a patch on the States which voted in favour of the ministerial system, and it shows. With a few notable exceptions among a dedicated core, the House lacks strong leaders capable of uniting their peers and carrying public opinion.
As the Island finds itself at such a crucial crossroads, the unsatisfactory state of our political system is a cold and startling fact that really should be keeping people awake at night.
• Paula Thelwell is a former commercial artist, JEP reporter and Jersey Heritage Trust manager. A proud Islander with a wide interest in history and politics, she is currently chairman of the Open University Students’ Association and the Holocaust Memorial Day Committee and has had many honorary roles with organisations ranging from the Jersey Women’s Refuge to the Jersey Film Society, and from the council of the National Trust for Jersey to the Jersey Arts Centre management committee
Things that keep me awake at night
THERE is a quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark’, that rings true of the sorry and at times farcical political climate in Jersey in the run-up to the first general elections of ministerial government.
The line is often borrowed by political commentators to suggest that things are unsatisfactory or there is something wrong, and who among us can argue that everything in the States’ garden is rosy?
Islanders have grown so accustomed to poor decision-making, procrastination, the power of the ‘old boys’ network’, public overspending and such like that they just take them, one after another, in their stride. Notwithstanding a resigned complacency reflected in the apathy at election times, there is a growing concern that Jersey is being taken down a road that the majority do not want to follow.
The political consensus and sense of community that has underpinned the Island’s post-war stability and maintained, for the most part, our enviable lifestyles is under threat.
The international publicity surrounding the Haut de la Garenne investigation has rocked the Island to the core. The world’s eyes are upon us: the Island is no longer famous for pretty cows, new potatoes and Bergerac, but alleged child abuse over generations, politicians airing their personal grudges and petty squabbles in the national media and a police force apparently unable to distinguish a coconut from a human skull. The whole sorry, and for the victims heartbreaking, saga has been a massive wake-up call.
Add to that the waterfront fiasco, the obscenely expensive traffic ‘improvements’ at Bel Royal and the arbitrary decisions of certain ministers, all rising in the public domain like apparitions of the late King of Denmark, and, while there is no evidence to suggest corruption, there is indeed something wrong in the state of Jersey.
Setting our insular woes against the global credit crunch and escalating fuel costs is enough to make Rip Van Winkle lose sleep. I am a deep sleeper, but of late I find my slumbers disturbed – and not by the Jack Russell stirring at the foot of the bed.
In the words of the leaders of the hip vanguard movement of Sixties California, The Mamas and The Papas, the darkest hour is just before dawn (or an hour later should Senator Jim Perchard win his referendum).
Accuse me of being a cynic – which I am – but could this referendum be a diversionary tactic to draw public opinion from the issues that ought to dominate the autumn elections?
My recent broken sleep coincided with the moment when the alarm clock, which in daylight cowers by the bed like a wee timorous beastie, took on the persona of a lump hammer. Then it happened: an annoying tune stuck in my brain and I faced the daunting task of emptying all thoughts before re-entering the land of nod.
It was not a tediously repetitive Kylie Minoguesque dirge, but the tune that accompanies our flying banana brand. Ah, the controversial banana has paled into insignificance, having been superseded – or buried – by the GST debate, the waterfront, Bel Royal roadworks et al. So many controversies to worry about … just where is a girl supposed to turn? Not so much burying unwelcome news, rather starting an avalanche of spin and overwhelming the public interest.
The banana (sorry, rising golden bird) and that dreadful orchestral piece composed to accompany its soaring aspirations, and employed as phone call-holding muzak by States departments, does nothing to conjure up any vision I have of an Island which I pride myself on knowing very well.
Both banana and tune are part of the so-called Life Enriching branding, neither of which bears any relevance to Jersey other than in the mind of the marketing executives who dreamed it up at great expense just because it is trendy to rebrand and, hey ho, every other country has a brand image so why not Jersey! I do not feel enriched and, apart from the company that pocketed the cash, I doubt if anyone else does.
Nonetheless, the image of a banana has sprung to mind on many occasions since it was adopted every time one of our politicians or public figures slips up. We should eschew the banana in favour of its skin.
Back to bed and the sleepless night. There I laid humming that damn tune and nothing of any worth on the radio to drown it out, when, heavens knows why, as I metaphorically counted jumping sheep my thoughts turned to the States – or as I fondly called them in my days when I reported on their business, Charlie Chuckle’s Laughter Factory, now led (if that is the right word) by the Council of Ministers, or the Chuckle Brothers and Sister.
There were times, when pushed out of the JEP office in the direction of the House with pad, pen and laptop in hand, that I would rather have undergone root canal work without anaesthetic then spend a watch in the Press box.
The States of today are not a patch on the States which voted in favour of the ministerial system, and it shows. With a few notable exceptions among a dedicated core, the House lacks strong leaders capable of uniting their peers and carrying public opinion.
As the Island finds itself at such a crucial crossroads, the unsatisfactory state of our political system is a cold and startling fact that really should be keeping people awake at night.
• Paula Thelwell is a former commercial artist, JEP reporter and Jersey Heritage Trust manager. A proud Islander with a wide interest in history and politics, she is currently chairman of the Open University Students’ Association and the Holocaust Memorial Day Committee and has had many honorary roles with organisations ranging from the Jersey Women’s Refuge to the Jersey Film Society, and from the council of the National Trust for Jersey to the Jersey Arts Centre management committee
Article posted on 3rd July, 2008 - 3.00pm