Joining the lynch mob

This is what we like. Plenty talk, plenty emotion but no action, either in the form of proper planning or effective implementation. From Russell Tiffin's officiating to key infrastructure at the Sir Vivian Richards Stadium to the tragic death of Hope Arismandez (I could go on, but there's only so much space in this column), it is all about knee-jerk reactions: public anger, editorial outrage and the sermonising of officialdom in response to the bleating of their constituents.

And then what? Nothing, at least until the next issue blows up in our faces and becomes the obsessive topic of the day or the week to keep us occupied while the decay continues all around.

From almost the start to the finish of the 15-minute journey to the ground yesterday, a caller to one of the drive-time morning radio programmes here in Antigua was coming off the long run on the shortcomings and short-sightedness associated with the island's virtually brand-new sporting and entertainment venue.

But for the distinctive accent of this part of the Leeward Islands, the caller and the show could have been anywhere else along the Caribbean chain.

In fairness, I suppose it's the same everywhere in the world, for this is what these programmes are about as they seem to generate considerable listenership. People vent their spleen about something and then wait for those with opposing views to get on the line and tear into the one-eyed party hack who was spouting so much rubbish a short while ago. It's like the radio version of voyeurism and bacchanalian reality.

Good revenue-earning radio fare apparently, given its proliferation, and it's amazing, although more than a little depressing, to recognise how many people feel such flippant spouting off constitutes a worthwhile contribution to society or will trigger the much-needed wave of change. Wasn't the drainage problem a source of embarrassment here last year? Weren't there region-wide concerns about the maintenance of all this costly new infrastructure long before they were put up (except the Brian Lara Stadium, of course) ahead of the 2007 World Cup? Now people are holding their heads and bawling like if it just dawned on them, as if all this bawling is going to make any difference.

When Tiffin adjudged Xavier Marshall to be caught behind off Stuart Clark in the morning session on Monday, everyone in the press level of the media centre rushed to the nearest television for confirmation that the Zimbabwean was really a thief or if he had finally gotten one decision right. "Oh gawd! Russell 'T'iefin' at it again!" bellowed some of us impartial West Indians after the first replay. Further microscopic examination (via technology which officials have no access to out in the middle) confirmed that the ball did indeed brush the opening batsman's glove on the way through to wicketkeeper Brad Haddin.

But it really didn't matter whether or not he was vindicated. As far as most of us are concerned, Tiffin is just another agent of that great global conspiracy to keep West Indian cricket down. Hardly anything is said about the process, the system that facilitated the return of an umpire who was removed from the ICC's elite list. Was there an independent assessment of his performance off the international stage to justify a comeback?

We have no time for that. This is about railing against perceived racist injustice, not about placing all of this in perspective and questioning the reluctance of officialdom to integrate technology and the human element to minimise errors. Mentioning that we are not the only ones to have suffered at the index fingers of umpires, and that there are any number of incidents which tilted Test matches and series in our favour, is to invite accusations of kissing up to the white people like good old Uncle Tom.

So, let us keep holding our heads and bawling like if it just dawned on us, and as if all this bawling is going to make any difference.

	Was there an independent assessment of Russell Tiffin's performance off the international stage to justify a comeback to ICC's Elite Panel? © AFP

Given a chance, there are some, like those outside the court last week, ready to let Tiffin have it. Like the lynch mob baying for Sunil Ali's blood, removing him from the umpires' panel is not enough. It is like committing suicide before the tortuously slow wheels of justice start turning. For the mindless masses and the reactionary media, the public humiliation of a cricket umpire and the execution of a savage murderer are the only way that our lust for revenge will be sated. Once the deed is done, all will be well, at least until some young innocent joins this growing list of victims that already included Akiel Chambers, Sean Luke and Amy Annamunthudo.

When it happens again, as most surely it will given our disinterest in doing the hard work - legislative or otherwise - that is needed to really begin the process of societal reform, we will again hit the streets and the airwaves, holding our heads and bawling like if it just dawned on us, and as if all this bawling is going to make any difference.

Another umpire next week, another child next month, another stadium next year. Like journalists rushing to watch the TV replay, like enraged citizens massing in front of the courthouse, like callers cussing so-and-so about this-and-that issue, we feast on problems but have no solutions.

Correction, we know what the solutions are, but don't have the honesty or integrity to make them real. So much easier to join the lynch mob.