Both
parties, masters and slaves, were engulfed by the rumours of the impending
emancipation. The rumours that the slaves were soon to be freed became more
insistent as news from the antislavery lobby in England reached them.
Governor
Sir George Fitzgerald Hill, Bart. (1833 - 1839) and the planters had made the
strongest representations possible to London and to their friends in high
places there. They insisted that any sudden freeing of the slaves would mean
absolute ruin for the colony. Estates would be abandoned and, in the event of
the slaves becoming violent, even the 19th Regiment and the militia would not
be able to safeguard the population. The terrible events in Haiti, the
revolution, the slave revolts, the massacres of the Europeans were still in
living memory.
They
claimed that in view of the acute shortage of slaves since the abolition of the
slave trade in 1807, it was to be anticipated that the Africans, when freed,
would not return to work on the plantations. There would be no way of avoiding
the complete collapse of the colony’s economy. The Europeans would go away, it
was said, and the former slaves resort to savagery in the bush.
Emancipation
in 1834, however, was one of those significant events that marked both an end
and a beginning. In terms of race relations, it marked the end of a period when
things were very clear-cut. It was also the end of clearly defined labour
relations. Instead, social and occupational ambiguities would now enter the
scene of things.
None
of the terrible predictions of upheaval and bloodshed came to pass. Yes,
plantations were ruined, fortunes were lost, lands changed hands. The labour
shortage occurred, and less than 20 years later, fresh labour was found and
fortunes were re-made.
In
1838, 20,656 slaves had been freed. Given the size of the island, this was not
a large number, particularly bearing in mind the among of women, children and
domestics amongst them.
One
of the controlling factors of slavery was access to learning. At the end of the
period of slavery, only the chosen few could read or write, perhaps no more
than a dozen or so. The social, political, religious and emotional dislocation
of the vast majority of the former slave population is hard to imagine nowadays
- to describe them as ignorant would be to miss the point.
In
the middle of all this, the Africans were not entirely unsought after.
Rivalries between religions were as keen then as they are now and both the
Catholics and the Anglicans vied with each other for converts. With the
prohibition against giving education to the Africans gone, the offer of
schooling was the attractive way to create converts. The British government
also supported the possibilities
of an education for the former slaves’ children - especially since they
were French and Patois speaking and had to be taught English. The various
denominations were encouraged to start schools. The quality of this education
in those schools, however, has been described by historians as low.
As
the result of the plantation system and society in the towns being dominated by
the French creoles, French language and the culture of the south of France were
endemic. Catholicism was entrenched, and the hierarchical structure of the
society almost feudal. The British, on the alert, did not want the former
slaves to coalesce even further with these alien French, formerly aristocrats
of an overturned regime.
There
was a political need to break this alliance of interest, formed of a shared
alienation to the British Crown. British education was the answer. It would
benefit the Africans, and it would serve to gain their loyalty. During the
mid-19th century, the majority of the Africans who were socialised French was
diluted by the influx of former slaves from other West Indian islands, many
from Protestant cultures like Barbados. They came to work in the fields,
however, they did not stay there long. Little by little, the process of
segmentation of the Africans along denominational and cultural lines crept in -
Catholic/French and Protestant/English.
When
Lord Harris assumed governorship in 1845, there were about 54 primary schools
in Trinidad, many of them organised by different churches. Lord Harris was an
unusual individual for his time - he was interested in mass education and
voiced the opinion that “education was essential for the lower classes in order
to fit them for freedom.”
He
felt that education should not be handed over to the denominations, but instead
was convinced that these religious bodies were competing for increased numbers
in their individual congregations. The pursuit of these various ‘gains of
converts’ would only lead to the creation of deep divisions in the society.
Lord Harris advocated a state school system, which was secular and in the hands
of the government. In thinking this way, Harris understood the inherent
problems of a society segmented in various ways - of which he had enough on his
hands with the beginning arrival of Indians from the other end of the British
empire.
The
creation of the education ordinance in 1851 which established a school in every
ward, free and secular under the control of a board of education with salaried
inspectors, was a landmark event in Trinidad. Dr. Bridget Brereton writes in
her book ...:
“Instruction
was to be entirely secular, but each week at stated times the clergyman of the
majority faith in the ward would undertake to teach religion, with parents free
to withdraw their children if they wished.”
In
Port of Spain, a ‘Normal School’ was to be set up to train teachers for the
ward schools, with ‘Model Schools’ attached to them for the teachers in
training to practice and to come to grips with the challenge of their calling.
This was the foundation of the school system in Trinidad.
Notwithstanding
Lord Harris’ laudable intentions there were problems. Too few new schools came
into existence - only 30 by 1870. Language was a real problem. Since English
was the only language used for instruction, it went over the heads of most
pupils, who spoke only French patois in their homes and in their community.
Within a couple years, the population became entirely bi-lingual. There was
also the problem of properly trained teachers as well as a lack of motivation
to teach in the inadequate and dilapidated buildings that served as schools.
Sir
Arthur Gordon, who arrived in Trinidad as governor in 1866, made a decision to
take up the challenge of education. Harris’ ward school system of the previous
decade had served to lay the foundations.
The
Catholic church had become stronger now, as its main adherents, the French
creoles, had once more gained financial ascendancy. The Catholics took the view
that only state-aided denominational schools would be acceptable to them. They
felt convinced that state-run schools were essentially ‘godless’ and that they
placed Catholic youths in mortal danger for their souls.
At
Governor Gordon’s request, an Irishman, Patrick Keenan, was sent out to
investigate. Keenan was an expert in the field of organised education, and he
produced a landmark document in the history of education in Trinidad. He
recommended that the church schools be allowed state aid under certain
circumstances. This met the Catholic churches’ necessities. The education
ordinance of 1870 put into place a dual system of state-supported church
schools alongside government schools in the wards.
To
what extent this beginning of an education system served to divide the emerging
society in its lowest and most vulnerable levels is a topic that historians
discuss to this day. In the chequered landscape of our society, with its
bewildering collection of faiths and creeds did we get off to a bad start?
Next
time you take a shortcut through Lord Harris Square in Port of Spain and walk
past his missing statue, or stroll down Harris Promenade in San Fernando, spare
a thought for a noble man who spared a thought for children.
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