Jamaica’s colonial monuments: Neglect as iconoclasm – Part 3
This is the final part of a three-part series on Jamaica’s colonial monuments, and the indifference that appears to surround them, in contrast with the iconoclastic fervour that has erupted elsewhere in the context of the Black Lives Matter and Decolonial movements.
The Rodney Memorial was commissioned by the Jamaican Assembly to commemorate the British admiral who had led the British fleet against the French in the 1782 Battle of the Saints which, among other things, secured Jamaica as an English colony. The statue, which was commissioned from the prominent English neoclassical artist John Bacon (1740-1799), was installed in 1790 in a purpose-built neoclassical tempietto flanked by two colonnaded galleries (a tempietto is a small, round, half-open or open temple or chapel structure, usually in Greco-Roman style). It stands in what was then the seat of Jamaica’s colonial government, as part of one of four buildings that mark the central square of Spanish Town, Jamaica’s capital at that time.
Surprisingly, although it is a prominent symbol of colonial power in a country where strong sentiments about that history abound, the Rodney Memorial has never been particularly controversial or attracted any significant calls for its removal. Mostly, it is just there and the subject of some mockery in the community, as some misread the Roman military outfit worn by Rodney as a schoolgirl’s uniform. The memorial was restored in 2006 by the Jamaica National Heritage Trust, so there is some governmental recognition of its historical and artistic value in this instance. What has happened to the Rodney Memorial’s context, the town square now known as Emancipation Square, however, tells another story.
The Old King’s House, which was the colonial governor’s mansion, burnt down in 1925 and remains only as a façade, supported by giant wood beams at the back in a way that brings to mind Hollywood set constructions. Its stairs were the location where the proclamation of Emancipation. The old courthouse was also destroyed by fire, in 1986, and is now just a crumbling brick shell. While the 1986 fire was apparently caused by arson, it is more likely that this had to do with the building’s court functions than with its colonial origins. Only two of the four buildings that once framed the square are still in use today: the old House of Assembly serves as the home of the Municipal Corporation (and could do with some architectural conservation too), while the buildings that adjoin the Rodney Memorial house the National Archives. The square is still quite beautiful, and the small park is well kept, but the state of the buildings well illustrates how neglected Jamaica’s colonial heritage is, as the area could easily have been restored and marketed as Spanish Town’s “Zona Colonial.”
The question arises why there is this widely shared indifference towards colonial monuments and sites in Jamaica (unless they can be put to active touristic or commercial use), which goes beyond casual neglect. Jamaica is, after all, a country that is globally known for its radical and pioneering decolonial activism, which is for instance evident in its music culture, so one would expect strong positions on the matter. I would not dare to suggest that the process of decolonization is complete in Jamaica, but part of the answer may be found in that very culture of decolonial activism.
Jamaica has, from at least the early twentieth century, produced compelling and widely supported decolonial counter-narratives. Garveyism and Rastafari have challenged and subverted the power of colonial symbols and civilizational narratives by asserting an originary African Diasporic identity for their followers. As Garvey wrote: “The world today is indebted to us for the benefits of civilization. They stole our arts and sciences from Africa. Then why should we be ashamed of ourselves?”
It is of note that the statue of the Marcus Mosiah Garvey stands not far from Columbus’ in St Ann’s Bay, at the St Ann Parish Library, and is popular and well-kept, with none of the natural and human-made subversions that haunt the Columbus Statue. As the case of the Garvey Statue illustrates, postcolonial Jamaica has, also at the official level, produced a powerful alternative narrative by means of its National Heroes order, with the commission of various statues and memorials resulting. It may just be that, in the face of these more compelling alternatives, colonial statues no longer have the propagandist power they once had in Jamaica and therefore receive only limited public attention.
While I believe that the neglect of colonial monuments and sites in Jamaica is significant, as a form of decolonial refusal, I am also aware that we are in the middle of a fluid and convulsive situation, with social and political hierarchies actively contested and renegotiated on global and local levels. In this context, passive resistance can turn into active uprising at the blink of an eye. While I was photographing the Columbus statue in St Ann’s Bay on 16 October, news broke that its 1830 counterpart in Nassau, The Bahamas, which is more prominently located in front of Government House, had been significantly damaged. While this was the work of a lone individual, who was promptly arrested and charged, the public outpouring of sympathy for the man, in The Bahamas, was remarkable and suggests that the incident was far more consistent with popular sentiments towards the statue and figure of Columbus than anyone could have previously imagined. It may be wise, therefore, for the Jamaican authorities to be more proactive and to articulate a position and plan of action with regards to the country’s colonial monuments, lest the decisions be made for them by interventions from the public.
Dr Veerle Poupeye is an art historian specialized in art from the Caribbean. She lectures at the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts in Kingston, Jamaica, and works as an independent curator, writer, researcher, and cultural consultant. Her personal blog can be found at veerlepoupeye.com.
