Of Clinterests and Cliterati: an ‘Action Jackson’ script, Sir Elton John’s grip and Mohini Harris ‘socialism’ (Mouth of the beast – part 3)



Personal experience and prolonged, providentially guided observation (rivaling that of British social anthropologist Kate Fox,) have taught me the folly of too much “clarity”.

As my book The Bible: Beauty and Terror Reconciled makes clear (ish), I know a thing or two about the empathy eroding, mind blinding light of fundamentalist certainties.

I have written extensively about the biblical-booze-boosted-bravery that is a counterfeit of true, clear-headed Christian courage.

I know a bit about the conscience calloused and hate-hazy-headed conviction that motivated racist mass murderers Dylan Roof and Norway’s butcher of Utøya, as surely as it motivates civilian slaughtering Islamists and the people traffickers who are capitalizing on the misery of conflict displaced refugees.

So I will never be as certain of things, I hope, as Lee Jackson, a West Point trained American soldier-turned-author who seems to see the world through a mainly literal, dare I say cliteral, militaristic lens.

I had a brief Twitter exchange about President Barack Obama’s alleged “Islamist” views with the Talibank thinking Jackson on 21 February, before he abruptly terminated our interaction and in a Trump-wall-like maneuver, blocked my access to his Twitter feed.

I coined the words “cliteral” by combining “clitoris” and “literal” to identify the excessive passion for and excitability about written things that I think may explain Jackson’s actions.

A ‘cliterist’, by this definition, would be a person who takes things too cliterally.

Cliterati would then be the anal retentive equivalent of literati.

Of course, these clitoral references maintain the allusion to female sexuality that I introduced in the previous article in this series, with my references to ‘Hilary’s Clinterests’.

And lurking between the letters are ancient spirits keen to remind us of how the tongues in women’s mouths and the clitorises between their legs are related.

The American artist Amy Marx knows a bit about this, as her painting “Clitoris of the Goddess Kali” suggests.

But as I have sought to make clear, I have in mind both male and female passion and excitability, the clitoris being interchangeable or homologous with the penis in some species, apparently.

And below I explore the penis as a pen by which males, ‘fusing’ with females can make a mark on history biologically, through our children.

I thus explore the semantics of semen and the generational obscurity, and sometimes even the gulf, between what we achieve and what we intend.


Clitoris of the Goddess Kali, by American artist Amy Marx
Clitoris of the Goddess Kali, by American artist Amy Marx


The focus on children and legacy, a theme alluded to in the beast narrative of the biblical Book of Revelation that is my sub-text comes into focus most explicitly when I pick-up where I left off in the previous article: another Twitter conversation, with the Asian-English BBC affiliated academic Kenan Malik about straight and gay parenting.

This is all brought together with an assertion of my limited knowledge and understanding, particularly as conceded in an apology I sent to Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan recently, for implicating him in the death of Malcolm X.

But back to soldier Jackson.

He terminated our conversation because I tweeted that we are all ‘Islamists’ to some extent in response to his exultant declaration that Mr Obama had been declared an Islamist by Tea Party tattler Allen West.


Lethal LeeJackson blocks me
Lethal LeeJackson blocks me


The cliterist communicator didn’t ask what I meant by ‘Islamists’, despite my use of quotation marks to indicate that I was using the term in an unconventional manner and special sense.

Instead Jackson, whose military remit according to his website was to recommend nonlethal strategies to achieve military ends, just erected an electric wall, terminating a conversation that was not only about Islamism but also about his twin sons and the twins in my family.

And there I was thinking that because he shared my interest in peaceful conflict resolution and family legacies, he and I were not only in for some pleasing, if challenging discussions, but might even become friends.

But Jackson not only un-followed my Twitter account, he also blocked my access to his tweets, so that I now cannot read them.

Well, I never want to be so ‘clear’ about the strength of my views that I feel I need to hide them from scrutiny.

I never want to be so ‘certain’ of the validity and virtue of freedom of conscience, free speech and other democracy defining freedoms that Americans like Jackson purport to defend and pass on to their children that I feel I must resort to intolerant, fundamentalist Christian-style, weak faith (Romans 14; 1 Corinthians 8 and elsewhere) prioritizing strategies of exclusion and censorship.

That behavior not only aligns Jackson with ISIS-empowering Donald Trump, but also with race, religion, gender and other ideological racketeers, like professor Sir Hilary Beckles, David Duke, Mia Mottley, Owen Arthur, VS Naipaul, Claire Fox and Sir Elton John.

These and other African, Aryan and Scientism supremacists lose their way in the moral maze of identity politics by adhering too closely to the academic, theoretical speculation and literal definitions which, like fundamentalist dependence on “the letter” that kills (2 Corinthians 3:6), gives a false sense of clarity, certainty and security.

So I am not just suspicious of clarity: I embrace my confusion, and do so gratefully.

You might say I am gratefully greyscaled.


Farrakhan’s faith, Mohini Harris’ socialist instincts

I have included the video at the start of this article in tribute to Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, to whom I recently sent a written apology and expression of gratitude for his role in reminding me how little I know and the value of such uncertainty and greyscaling in many instances.

This is particularly important for writers because living in relative isolation as we tend to, we can become consumed with our own opinions of ourselves and others.

Once sober minds can be abused by that kind of artificial intelligence approximating, arrogance-inducing analytical alcohol.

And armchair, ivory tower theorizing is not just a temptation of academics. It tempts us all.

So I apologized to Minister Farrakhan for suggesting that he was knowingly and intentionally involved in the death of Malcolm X.

At least, I think I suggested that. I have not yet verified that I actually did.

But as I see it, even if I was more guarded than I recall in commenting on that matter, I think it is a small thing to apologize to a leader of Minister Farrakhan’s stature unnecessarily.

However flawed he might be – and his occasional excessive, seemingly violence endorsing, any-means -necessary ‘realist’ rhetoric tells me he is flawed indeed – Minister Farrakhan is as much a model of morality ‘clothed in the sun’ as I have ever seen.

He reflects the glory of God, or in deference to him and other Muslims, Allah, as surely as any Christian, Jewish, Bhuddist, Hindu or other religious leader, black or white, that I have ever met or am ever likely to meet.

And boy, can he speak!

What a feral, ferocious mouth, on that beast!

And I have never found Mr Farrakhan more educational, persuasive and compelling than in the above video, where he explains his relationship with the assassinated Malcolm X: his mentor, friend and colleague.

I share it here as a prelude to what some may regard as my own complicity in a kind of ‘political killing’: this painfully slow unfolding critique of a Clinterests crowned queen, Philomena Mohini Harris.

Dr Mohini Harris is as dear to me, arguably, as Malcolm was to his mentee Louis.

More a ‘mother’ than a mentor, Dr Mohini Harris and her late husband semi-adopted my brother Wayne and I for a time, when as students at the former Garrison Secondary School (now Graydon Sealy Secondary) their son Joseph had become Wayne’s and my close friend.

So, the critique of the Clintonesque Dr Mohini Harris that I am embarking on here – the study of her Kalibank-like terror and beauty feels a bit like matricide to me.

I am not just torn, as former Barbados Prime Minister Arthur was about legislating an unintended pay rise for himself.

It is not just the sense of how this study serves my self-interest that gives me pause here.

This is not just an “awkward moment”.

I believe this is closer to what Farrakhan felt and Lee ‘Action’ Jackson and other soldiers refuse to feel: a sense that I may hurt someone about whom I care deeply and who in the past has shown considerable warmth and care for me and my family.

This is also more momentous and far reaching than Arthur’s pay increase because it has implications both for how we Barbadians view our past and the extent to which we can shape the future of our country.

It also has implications for Barbados-India relations, especially for those allied to His Highness Maharana Shri Raghubir Singhji Rajendrasinghji Sahib, father of the princely gay advocate Mavendra Singh Gohil.

I feel like I am being forced to channel the paranoia, hostility and perverse principle that prompted the Roman emperor Nero to order his mother Aggripina’s death.

I also fear that I am being forced to assume the xenophobic mantle of divisive, opportunistic dictators like Forbes Burnham and Idi Amin, whose antipathy for Indians offends me more than I can express.

Although I cannot say that I felt the revulsion that journalist Jeff Yang (QZ, National Public Radio) reported in response to comedian Chris Rock’s Asian jibe at the Oscars on Sunday.

But maybe I have interpreted the gesture wrongly: I thought Rock was drawing attention to the problem of child exploitation in India, not poking fun at it.

And there again is the main point I am making: the complexity of human communication.

That’s why misunderstandings will inevitably happen.

Even here, my comparison of the Farrakhan-Malcolm X connection with the relationship between my family and Dr Mohini Harris and her four sons (George, Peter, Joseph and Thomas) has its limits and requires qualification.

For starters, despite his public prominence, the martyred Malcolm’s place in American society is hardly comparable, in material wealth measurement, with that of the politically and commercially well-connected diplomat Mohini Harris or that accumulated by her children – especially Peter, through his insurance and health industry exploits and interests.

The Mohini Harris clan has more in common with Bill and Hillary Clinton, the Bush dynasty and other American ‘royal families’ than with the working class Mr X in that respect.

Moreover, the Mohini Harris-Campbell families relationship is rather more fraught than the Farrakhan-X familial context.

This is because of a dispute that erupted several years ago between that Indian matriarch and my sister Yvette: the sister whose car I was driving when the ongoing, uncharacteristic seismic activity around Barbados started with a 7.4 magnitude earthquake in 2007.

The epicenter of that dispute, which may have been a factor behind Yvette’s exclusion from our father’s will, was an allegation by Yvette that the then married Dr Mohini Harris had become involved with her boyfriend – a man who worked with Dr Mohini and her husband at Barbados’ Queen Elizabeth Hospital and whom I know mainly as ‘Kinch’.

Driven by her love for Kinch and a sense that she was unfairly scorned by him for his new “friend”, Yvette launched a public broadside against Dr Mohini Harris, possibly at her and her husband’s workplace.

Tragically, according to the snippets of information that I recall, the public scandal may have led to the death of Dr Mohini Harris’ husband.


Wayne and I at his wedding
Wayne and I at his wedding

The last time I spoke to Dr Mohini Harris, probably more than a year ago, she denied the affair allegation.

But at the time Yvette was apparently persuaded of the truth of it.

Now, agreeing with former US president Bill Clinton as I do, that sex is among the most obscure of fundamental matters, I would not want to speculate about what may or may not have happened between Kinch and Dr Mohini Harris to lead my sister to the conclusion she reached.

But like Farrakhan, I feel obliged to shed such light as I might on the matter for a number of reasons.

First and foremost is my sense that even if we set aside the deep tragedy of the Mohini-Harris patriarch’s passing this would still be a matter of life and death.

I believe that an unhealthy, psycho-socially damaging silence has been erected around this matter, like a Trump-wall, erected in a hasty, hazy-headed panic.

I note that when I spoke to Dr Mohini Harris about this at least a year ago, she was surprised to learn that her son Joseph had raised the matter with me.

This has led me to wonder what else Joseph and perhaps the proud Peter may have got up to in defense of their mother’s honor but not with her approval necessarily.

I also note Joseph and the other Mohini Harris princes’ links to the other “markers” I have been mystically tracking – including their links to the BCC, the death in their family, their cricketing links and, of course, their centrality to the Malcolm In the Middle, juridical-medical, name-based convergence phenomenon that unites Barbados, Britain and India in a cosmological ménage a trois or Revelatory triangle, depending on how you assess it.

But I certainly could not fault Joseph for urging me to ‘reign in’ Yvette, so to speak.

And given my conventional Christian views at the time, I may have tried to do just that.

However the former Canadian cricket team captain might as well have asked me to tame the wind.

Yvette recently indicated to me that she has no desire to discuss this issue, but in the late 1970s or early to mid 1980s when the scandal was unfolding she was capable of an oral assault that would make the mouth on Farrakhan look tame!

The warnings about the fiery, destructive power of the tongue in the epistle of James, chapter 3, verses 1 to 12 were written especially for people like Yvette.

But I find her willingness to stand by the courage of her convictions, like Minister Farrakhan, encouraging.

I have always thought that the courage she showed as a teenager in running away from our home and setting-up her own with a much older man who she believed she was in love with, was due some kind of credit, even if that decision was overall wrongheaded.

And whatever she, I or anyone else might say about the shortcomings of a formal education, as opposed to being educated in the ‘school of life’, I believe that her decision to drop out of school around the same time that she ran away is to be regretted.

But her decisions, which subsequently led her into a career as an exotic dancer (‘Madamme Yvette’) are not entirely different from the ones that Hillary Clinton made in her youth, when she went against her conservative Methodist father’s will, interests and politics and became a supporter of the civil rights movement.

Even the former First Lady’s marriage to Bill Clinton was marked by a lack of enthusiasm from her father, if I correctly recall one article I have read.

That New York Times article also makes it clear that this year’s front-running Democratic Party nominee for the US presidency got her indefatigable fighting spirit from her daddy.

It suggests that her inheritance of his abrasive, brash manner and temperament were responsible for her employment of nonlethal, pragmatic force to achieve political ends, to a significant extent.

I suspect a similar genetic and environmental combination might explain Dr Mohini Harris’ socialist instincts.

And I believe I got a glimpse of the kind of compromising situations and other trouble that those instincts could get that caring queen, into when I encountered her full of ‘merry-making, charismatic spirit’, in Deane’s Village, St Michael, where I lived briefly around 1986.

It was about 9:00 am one Christmas morning.

The streets were still largely deserted and as I was returning to my Glendairy Gap residence from church, Dr Mohini Harris emerged from one of thewooden chattel houses in the area.

She gave me a little peck on the cheek, wished me Merry Christmas and was off.

For my part, in that “awkward moment”, the scandal some distance behind us (as I recall Joseph had by then told me he was no longer pursuing it), and knowing her to be single, I wished I was older.

I had always thought her a very beautiful woman and her beauty seemed to be enhanced with age.

And I suppose being to some degree brash and impetuous myself on one hand, and having regard to the passage of time on the other, I contemplated helping Ms Mohini Harris lay the burden of her beauty down, if you will.

But this was a fleeting thought.

I never acted on it.

I recall thinking how awkward a relationship with her would be for a renewal of my former friendship with Joseph and his brothers, but I never considered pursuing the idea at any length.

Frankly, with everything else that was going on in my life around that time, including my disillusionment with evangelical fundamentalist Christianity and various romantic interests, I was not that interested.

Fundamentally, fortunately or unfortunately, in addition to my interest in mature belles (the now deceased cultural activist Cynthia Wilson was another fleeting one), I also share with most males an unapologetic interest in women my own age or younger.

And I am only ventilating the matter here because I think the dispute between my sister and Dr Mohini Harris might have been leveraged against her and her sons subsequently by the ‘divide and rule dons’ of Barbados’ superficially socialist, substratally antisocial politics.

I am also obliged to consider the possibility that despite Joseph’s claim that the matter was resolved, he, Thomas, Peter and/or George Harris may have been complicit in such political leveraging.

I am obliged to consider that they may have conspired against Yvette, me and other members of my family, in the same way that my former Garrison Secondary School teacher Esther Phillips may have been leveraging my incidental involvement in a situation where a fellow student commented on her derriere indiscreetly.


Esther Phillips and Donville Inniss.
Esther Phillips and Donville Inniss.



That’s because I know a bit about Barbados’ political praxis.

I know about its MI 5 and Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) like trade in secrets and other ‘nonlethal stratagems’ that may be perverted to accommodate extortion and emotional blackmail.

That’s why I have decided it is best that these matters be properly ventilated, rather than swept under the carpet.

By coming clean about my own limited knowledge and other vulnerabilities and shortcomings, my goal is to remove any wall of guilt or shame that unethical persons may use against Dr Mohini Harris, my sister Yvette, Kinch or anyone else.

There may well be a time and place when I might employ Lee ‘Action’ Jackson Trump-wall-building simulating strategies.

I am currently doing just that as I try to build a consensus among persons with vested interests, including my local MP Clive Lewis, Norfolk Police, Reverend Chris Copsey and other members of Norfolk’s Christian and wider ‘carer’ community about how anomalies around an extraordinarily tragic case of ‘suicide’ Haven’s been investigated by the police, reported by the media and otherwise handled.

But there comes a time when silence or the “hedging” and other communication rituals that the British social anthropologist Fox examines in her book “Watching the English” are counter-effective.

There are situations in which silence is less like principled discreetness and more like cynical advantage-taking or plain, perverse cowardice.

And it is only in construing this and other fraught ‘acid test’ character studies that I have embarked on as a sort of rescue operation, intended in this case to help the possibly powerful-position-intoxicated Mohini Harris, Esther Phillips, Sir Hilary Beckles, Sir Elton John, my sister Yvette and America’s potential first woman president, among others, save themselves from themselves that I can find any real relief from this uncomfortable public ventilating predicament.

It is only by maintaining an awareness that I am alerting Mohini Harris, as I would prominent businesswoman Asha Mirchandani (notoriously known as ‘Mrs Ram’ by most Barbadians), tourism executives Sue Springer and Petra Griffith, development consultant Donna St Hill and other “red dragon” ‘adoptive’ and indigenous Barbadian women to the dangers of child devourer-like, culture consuming, cliterati ‘champagne socialist’ excesses that I can satisfy myself that this study, as all I seek to do, is psycho-socially redemptive.

Which brings me to the Twitter conversation I had with Kenan Malik, as I sought his opinion on the question of whether gay and straight parenting are essentially the same.


Kenan Malik, Wikipedia
Kenan Malik, Wikipedia


In addition to the alleged Kinch love triangle imbroglio, the need for a Mohini Harris rescue operation has also been suggested by Thomas Harris, who once told me that he has ‘adopted’ blackness.

As I recall, this was during my 2007 trip to Barbados and he and I were conversing just outside Josef’s Restaurant, located in the popular St Lawrence Gap district.

At some point in that conversation, Thomas told me that he married and has children with a black woman and considers himself a black man, not an Indian.

Now, even if I begin with the assumption that Mr Harris loves his wife and children as authentically as any husband and father could, I cannot see how doing so would make him a black man.

More pointedly, I cannot see why he should be required to be a black man, other than for political, and in the Barbadian post-9/11 context, highly questionable reasons!

I believe the implied denial or surrender of his Indian birthright suggests a deeply worrying state of affairs in the Mohini Harris family’s relations with Barbados’ majority black political class.

For starters, it recalls the racial opportunism of VS Naipaul, that “great prostitute man” who denounced his Hindu and Trinidadian heritage for a mess of British pomp and prestige pottage.

It also calls into question all that the Mohini Harris clan has accomplished in Barbados and implicates that family with Sir Hilary, Donville Inniss and the island’s other race-racketeering politicians.

And the alleged Mohini Harris clan’s links to disgraced insurance executive Leroy Parris and the Colonial Life Insurance Company (CLICO) scandal also reflects very poorly, possibly, on that family’s life choices.

But, I assume nothing.

As with Lloyds Bank’s extremely questionable closure of my Intelek International business account; the links of my former business associate Steven Mendes of Mendes Computers to online porn prince Inniss and Sir Hilary and the implied involvement of my local MP Lewis in the Barbados-sown, globally grown criminal conspiracy against me (implied specifically through his links to Sir Hilary and the international labor and student union movements) and other matters that I am tracking like the ‘twin earthquakes’ that have been occurring between Britain and Barbados since 2007: I do not claim to have an exhaustive understanding of these matters or of how they may be interrelated.


My first Mystic Mona Lisa cartographic sketch. A seminal moment in the journey that has become my 'Love Arctually' project.
My first Mystic Mona Lisa cartographic sketch. A signal of my own ‘cliteralism’ and a seminal moment in the journey that has become my ‘Love Arctually’ cartographic art project.


I note the patterns and trajectories mapped by the joining of these dots.

I note the gay and straight lines and parental nodes and the titillating G-spots that might make Lee ‘Action’ Jackson and other military-minded strategists ‘lose the plot’ and, well, wet themselves.

But far be it from me to assume original motivations, aspirations or intentions purely on the basis of the timing of events or appearance of the behaviors I am tracking.

That would be like conceding to Malik that gay and heterosexual, biologically coherent and consistent parenting are essentially the same thing.

I don’t think the history of human procreation supports that position.

And while I would not want to speak of Sir Elton John’s and his husband David Furnish’s children as ‘synthetic babies’, as Domenico Dolce of Dolce and Gabbana fame did.

I find it hard to resist the conclusion that the arrangement by which the rock music royal couple came to be regarded as the two children’s “parents” is in fact not purely a matter of blood, but also, and significantly, a matter of ink.

From my perspective, there is an inescapable cliteral, very prominent, legalistic dimension to that arrangement.

And if I had misspoke as the ‘queens of fashion’ did, while I may have willingly offered Sir Elton an apology (as I have Minister Farrakhan) I don’t think I would have capitulated to his views so completely.

My business partner, the oracle Janice Gurney, a study in human complexity, would strongly caution against such cliteralist, Obama-gay-marriage-legalizing ‘presumption and arrogance’.

Confined to a wheelchair, speech impaired and otherwise disabled, she understands better than most the limits of human ingenuity. She understands how change may occur on the inside while everything on the outside seems the same.

Peter Haylett, Dr Hayley Pinto, Dr David Nutt and other Norfolk-based health professionals who participated with me in a recent seminar on complex care needs, especially where mental illness, alcohol and other substance abuse and addiction interface would also appreciate the wisdom of suspending judgment where evidence for one conclusion or another is inadequate.

And so I note Dr Mohini Harris’ links to His Excellency, Prince Manvendra Singh Gohil, an apparent gay rights championing darling of the BBC and other homosexual lifestyle affirming Western media houses.

I also note the pattern of former associates of mine, like Margaret Gill, ‘Sister Doctor’ Sandra Richards and Mendes entering various alliances from which I am excluded.

Still I assume nothing.

I have assured Dr Mohini Harris of my love for her and her family and my determination to spare them any avoidable distress as I pursue my individual quest for justice and my vision of a fairer and more just and democratic Barbados for all of us.

I imagine that she will want to join with me in thanking minister Farrakhan for reminding me of my capacity to assume too much and in so doing, helping to save me from myself.

However imperfect his example, indeed, because of his imperfection, all who like the double-raced Thomas would identify with black Barbadians’ and other black people’s struggles are indebted to him for furnishing us with a powerful example of the internal challenges that face those who aspire to positions of leadership and prominence in black communities.

I can only imagine the price that the Indian Mohini Harris family members may be paying for their Arthur, Mottley and other ‘black Barbadian beasts-approved prominence and prosperity?

I think of the price paid over several years by the white Englishmen Dr Alan Cobley, a historian at UWI and the late conservationist Colin Hudson of the Future Centre Trust for their marriage to black Barbadian women, in line with their socialist and naturist ideals respectively.

What price have their partners and children paid (at least in Prof Cobley’s case) for what some Garveyites on one hand and David Duke-like Aryan supremacists on the other would label the betrayal of their races through miscegeny

I imagine that Minister Farrakhan’s treatment in the video of the issue of internal political rivalries, inter-generational challenges and related matters will resonate with the Mohini Harris family, as it does with me, on several levels.

But while his emphasis on the role of beast-like broadcasters and other mankind mauling, news media monopolizing mischief-makers rings true with my own experience, I am not sure that it will resonate with the apparently Britain and India-favored, Barbados-mainstream-media-loved Mohini Harris family to the same extent.

Similarly, while Farrakhan’s essentially blanket denunciation of the mainstream media is not without some merit, I would want to stand with media darling Sir Elton and incisive thinkers like Malik, in so far as there can be some agreement between them and me.

Interestingly, until a day or two ago, I had forgotten that I cited Malik in some information I provide in an addendum to TBBTR (page 158) about penetrative and superficial inquiry.

As in our Twitter conversation, I found little to agree with him on in that instance. But I discovered some common ground when I read his Wikipedia page.

Malik is described as “a scientific author with a focus on the philosophy of biology, and contemporary theories of multiculturalism, pluralism and race.

According to Wikipedia, these topics are core concerns in his books The Meaning of Race (1996), Man, Beast and Zombie (2000) and Strange Fruit: Why Both Sides Are Wrong in the Race Debate (2008).

I have not yet read any of these books but the title ‘Man, Beast and Zombie’ resonates with me for predictable reasons, given the title of this series of articles.

It is the mechanistic, unreflecting, conscience calloused behavior that equates man with beasts and zombies that I am mainly challenging here.

I am denouncing the crude, instinctive, opportunistic and unreflecting mindset that inclines us to blindly align ourselves to racial, religious, gender and other ideological enterprises, as Thomas Harris and perhaps the entire Mohini Harris clan may have done, or been forced to do, since Mrs Mohini Harris’ husband’s tragic, possibly scandal-plagued death.

I am therefore inclined to agree with Malik where he argues that “The triumph of mechanistic explanations of human nature is as much the consequence of our culture’s loss of nerve as it is of scientific advance.” (pages 13–14)

But I am also inclined to caution against the kind of “nerve” that encourages Malik and others to glibly equate homosexual and heterosexual parenting.

I think that equation goes beyond nerve into the realm of recklessness.

And I am surprised that he apparently does not see how homosexual parenting at a root node level reduces human reproduction to a mechanistic process.

I am surprised that he does not see how all the technological trinkets with which secular scientists might dazzle Taino-like digital natives will never be able to duplicate the organic, biological dimensions of human existence that separate us from less sentient things.

Without prejudice to Bernie Sanders, his wife Jane and others who take on the extraordinary responsibility of parenting children they have not ‘created’ themselves it still has to be said that while such rescue missions can be expressions of profound self-sacrifice, they can also be expressions of Everest-rivaling vaulting ambition, conceit and self-indulgence – as can biological parenting.

The dragon which pursues the woman to devour her child in the Book of Revelation is probably best seen as a symbol of Baal-like child abuse, however that may be configured today.

I am no more convinced that Sir Elton understands or has a grip on all the issues he and his husband’s boys will have to grapple with as they grow older than I am that I know everything that puts my two children at risk.

I do know though, based on my own experience, that having questions about the true identity of one of your parents can be deeply traumatic and unsettling, even when those questions have been brought to your attention at an adult, mature, well-adjusted, identity-settled age.

I saw my own father grapple with that challenge as a grown man.

And thanks to a cousin who after the death (significantly) of the only man I have ever called father, suggested that my twin brother and I were not entitled to address him thus, I now live with the same niggling questions.

But as I pointed out to Malik, the biological link goes deeper than that, encroaching directly on the matter of genetically transmitted diseases and other aspects of children’s physical health.

I wrote “If the biological link matters to what extent does it? It does matter in terms of hereditary health, at least, doesn’t it?”

I felt that given Malik’s training in neurobiology he was well placed to explore the biological bases of identity and how these might be manifested in situations where only one parent, rather than both, is linked biologically.

My aim was not to question a non-biologically linked parent’s capacity to be a good parent, as he seemed to think.

It was simply to get an acknowledgement that the biological bond and dimension is consequential, and therefore to some degree significant.

I was expressing, to some extent, the same kind of concern that designers Dolce and Gabbana expressed last March, about how the traditional concept of the family is being challenged by what I would call a legalistic, martial “orthodox” gay fundamentalism.











Little thought of Barbados PM Freundel Stuarts’ ‘Big ideas’ – #Barbados50 – part 1

“He spoke from his heart…We were just discussing what a great speech it was.”

This is how the speech delivered by Barbados Prime Minister Freundel Stuart during the launch of celebrations to mark the country’s 50th anniversary of independence was described by Sandra Hinds, a member of his secretarial team.

I called the prime minister’s office on Thursday evening to request a copy of the speech as I prepared to respond to claims he made about the impartiality of Barbados’ judicial system and the soundness and sustainability of its democracy.

Needless to say, based on my own and others’ observation of the impunity that some Barbadians like Donville Inniss enjoy, I am not sure about the authenticity of Mr Stuart’s statements.

Donville Inniss of the "BBC"
Donville Inniss of the “BBC”

I imagine that many Barbadians who have seen how partial or paralytic our court system can be in its dealings with, for example, the CLICO monetary ‘abuses’ of Stuart’s predecessor the late PM David Thompson, would want to challenge those and other claims made by Stuart and echoed by most who spoke during that launch ceremony.

Sadly, Stuart and many other Barbadians seem to have difficulty facing their own and others failings.

They tend to excel in superficial, simplistic analysis of those failings or ‘sins’ and the long and short-term impacts they have had and can yet have on Barbados’ development.

Hence, the rather disappointing suggestion by PM Stuart that some people are demanding perfection of Barbadians while being poor models of perfection themselves.

Could he have framed that argument in more clichéd, thought-tiny language?


Prime Minister Stuart delivers his speech.
Screenshot of Prime Minister Stuart delivering  his speech.


Could he not have come up with a more original and rigorous way of expressing that idea: a more robust scale or framework by which to assess and measure the expectations and standards by which Barbadians analyze our country’s progress since the relative independence achieved in 1966?

What is ‘great’, to quote Ms Hinds, about that defence by Stuart of Barbadians failings?

It doesn’t suggest a very deep reach into his heart by the PM.

It doesn’t suggest, for example, that Mr Stuart is familiar with the idea that “perfection” is more of a process than a point of personal or national development.

Might not Barbados’ High Commissioner to the UK, Reverend Guy Hewitt, or some other prominent Barbadian cleric have informed the PM that in the well known passage of scripture “Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48) the Greek terms behind the English translation invoke pursuit of a goal, rather than its attainment?

Might not regional Anglican potentate Dr John Holder, himself a Barbadian, have previously informed PM Stuart of this more historically informed and accurate mode of biblical interpretation?

Or should we conclude that while Mr Stuart is a Queens Counsel (or QC, like Cherie Blair and therefore presumably a legal practitioner of some standing) he has never been exposed to that level of religious or spiritual teaching?

More worryingly still, might it be the case that having been exposed to such teaching PM Stuart has not retained the basics?

Might the soil of his heart have proven so shallow, hard or barren as to have squandered or rejected such small beginning, mustard seed sized educational investments?

Our Prime Minister is clearly familiar with the idea of receiving, retaining and rejecting biblical education approximating banking lessons.

Unless I am mistaken, he advised Barbadians to employ a three-fold framework of receiving, retaining and rejecting aspects of our national heritage as we contemplate our island state’s future prospects.

This clearly more studied, possibly pre-rehearsed proposal is something of an improvement over the simplistic “imperfect people asking us to be perfect” comment that preceded it.

But Stuart’s apparently glib, greasy and slippery grasp of what it means to pursue perfection does not inspire confidence in his ability to lead Barbadians in a truly rigorous, robust process of measuring moral development or progress.

On the contrary, what it suggests is a degree of moral myopia and bankruptcy.

It indicates ethical erosion and the anchorless historical drifting.

It evokes the dripping or spitting of essentially empty words from the mouth of one who, in ethical terms, is only superficially educated.

From my perspective, it puts PM Stuart’s speech, and the political mouthing of Opposition leader Mia Mottley and many of their DLP and BLP associates (including persons like University of the West Indies Vice Chancellor professor Sir Hilary Beckles, prominent poet Margaret Gill, politician David Comissiong, educator Esther Phillips, journalist David Ellis, Rev Sonia Hinds and others with whom I have had significant interactions, in a rather lamentable regional and international context.

Essentially, it lumps their words with Hilary Clinton’s extraordinary 2008 fantasist account of landing in Bosnia under sniper fire in 1995.

That military incident appears to have happened only in Ms Clinton’s head.

And few would vouch that as she uttered or berthed that item of artificial intelligence she spoke from her heart of hearts, her deepest, most holistically self-understood self in that instant.

Stuarts and other Barbadians apparent failure to understand that being perfect is at least as much about a course of travel as arrival at any destination lumps their and narrowly nationalistic, critical analysis dismissing defence of Barbados’ shortcomings with the mainstream media-puffed, much over-rated speech delivered last year by British Labour Party power-broker Hilary Benn in the English Parliament in defence of David Cameron’s proposal to intervene in Syria to bomb ISIS.

He may have been generously applauded by Tory, Labour, Liberal Democrat, UKIP and other Parliamentarians, but I can’t conceive of his father, anti-war icon Tony Benn being particularly proud of him in that moment.

At a substratal linguistic, and especially pragmatic and semantic level, Stuart’s speech recalls the African supremacist pro-reparations (for trans-Atlantic slavery) money mongering arguments of the UWI Vice Chancellor Beckles delivered at the United Nations New York headquarters, Chicago University and other unfortunate openings in recent times.

And the term ‘abomination of desolation’ comes to mind here, as the killing of Jamaican Khalil Campbell by Beckles’ son Rodney in 2007 is whispered in my conscience.

Sadly, such deeply deplorable, even sacrilegious abuses of public spaces by profane speech acts seem to have become all the rage since 9/11.

Among these metaphorical, ISIS approximating ‘public beheadings’ and other short-sighted, opportunistic obscenities, the crowning of Trinidad born and initially bred, Oxbridge and wider British elitism prejudice fed writer VS Naipaul with the Nobel Prize for literature in 2002 stands out poignantly.

Has human intelligence, measured in terms of morality, spirituality, scientific inquiry or any other rubric ever been more profanely prostituted than when it was associated with the dark, devious machinations that were conceived in Mr Naipaul’s head?

I do not wish to be unkind to the aged Mr Naipaul, Prime Minister Stuart or anyone else with whom I have taken issue in this essay on the measurement of human progress or perfection.

I’m simply saying that if Barbadians are to stand any chance of ever achieving the kind of global leadership that Mr Stuart and others may rightly desire for us, they and we will have to give up the cognitive and affective industry avoiding laziness that inclines us to complacently and glibly ‘measure ourselves by ourselves’, to paraphrase the apostle Paul (2 Corinthians 10:12).

Such simplistic, Adolf Hitler and Forbes Burnham recalling notions of independence and integrity lump Barbadians with the demagogue Donald Trump, the Talibank thinkers Mitt Romney and Luis Farrakhan, and a range of other Jamaican, Trinidadian, Guyanese, British, American, Canadian, Indian, Nigerian, Malaysian and other morally bankrupt political opportunists.






Rocking San Andreas and Britain’s ‘Magma Carta’ hyperbole (Semantics, seismology and psyche – part 1)


I’m yet to see the movie San Andreas, but having seen the trailer I can see how my Bob Crow-Lionel Craig-and-Tom Adams triangulating article, first published on American citizen journalism website Allvoices.com in March, 2014 predicts some of that film’s themes.

I note particularly the centrality of a father-daughter relationship in the Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson starring film. I’m intrigued at how that relates to this Korebeliefs.com project, which ‘springs’ like a geyser from my long-running linking of seismology and gender relations.

Yet notwithstanding my virtually lifelong Woman-I-Zen study, I had no idea that the spelling “k-o-r-e”, for “core” (as in, the earth’s innermost reaches) could be as meaningful as it turns out for me and others.

I coined the phonetic “kore”, replacing the “c” with a “k” because the corebelief.com domain name that I wanted to register was already taken.

So, I came up with the “k”-initial spelling of “core”, somewhat reluctantly.

And this was despite having a deep, intuitive sense that my use of “k” was meant to be.

I have a quiet, reassuring feeling about the use of the letter “k” in the creation of names. I first experienced this knowing when I used this letter to create my business name “Intelek”, in the early to mid 1990s.

I knew nothing of the classical Greek origin of Kore (pronounced ko’ra, I believe), a “girl God”, linked to the fertility goddess Persephone.

In fact, I tend to think of “k” as a peculiarly hard, masculine sound. I’m more inclined to associate it with the word “king” than with the word “queen”, although a key component of that sound is present in both words.

I’m really looking forward to addressing gender gyrations here on Korebeliefs.com because I am absolutely persuaded that they are at the core of our physical, earthly being and belief systems.

I’m particularly keen to explore the visual components of gender, brought to the fore by Johnson’s hyperbolic, alpha male appearance and performance in San Andreas, even as it is being problematized more generally in America, in the Bruce-to-Caitlyn-Jenner story.

The visual component of that other controversial identity marker, race, problematized in Rachel Dolezal’s story intrigues me even more.

I’m keen to explore the deceptiveness or duality not only of human’s physical appearances but also of the written words upon which we plant our feet or place our seal.

My goal is to expose the fault lines of the things in which we place our trust – like a large bank balance, assumptions of shared prejudice, as in the ill-fated case of Mitt Romney’s run for the US presidency and “name recognition”, in the case of 2016 presidential prospects Jeb Bush and Hilary Clinton.

I will at some point address the problem of prostitution, as represented in the politics of racial reparations, currently being promoted by United Nations General Assembly president Sam Kahamba Kutesa, and a number of prominent Caribbean movers and shakers, including historian Sir Hilary Beckles and feminist politician Mia Mottley.

I am hoping to excavate and expose the Romneyesque Talibank Thinking (or Kalibank Thinging) pecuniary priestcraft at the core of their arguments.

It is the kind of slight-of-hand (or slight-of-tan, in Dolezal’s case) born of the dark night in woman and man, that former New York governor Eliot Spitzer seems to have a deep understanding of.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Spitzer who was disgraced by revelations of his “down low” use of prostitutes, nonetheless has useful, intimate insights into the excesses of the banking and insurance industries – as demonstrated by his assessment of the real scandal at AIG.

As some readers will know, in my book The Bible: Beauty and Terror Reconciled (TBBTR), I address priestcraft among Christians and other fundamentalists extensively.

Indeed with its focus on degeneration and renewal (the religious equivalent of the economic “boom and bust” cycle) TBBTR may be seen as predicting not only the 2007 subprime mortgage catalysed banking crisis, but the reputational earthquakes around Britain’s Co-Op Bank and HSBC, both with prominent churchmen (Methodist Paul Flowers and Anglican Stephen Green) at their epicentres, notably.

But TBBTR is first and foremost a study of the deadly dualism of the written word.

It’s about the lethalness of the letter. The potentially deadly deceptiveness not just of written accounts but also, and perhaps more so, of the self-destructive, illusory power they attract.

“The letter killeth”, warns the writer of 2 Corinthians 3:6. In TBBTR I demonstrate how like the seemingly stable ground beneath us, “[en]graven images”, which is what scripture is, may be as destructive as any San Andreas-created void.

The danger is the subjugation and violation of critical memory, producing the kind of sleep-walking like denial we may associate with “daddy’s girl” Bettina Aptheker.

A writer, I know this “peril of the pen” all too well. I know the earthquake-zone-instability of written things: the potentially murderous mysticism of magma; the lethal capacity of a literary lava flow.

A linguist by both training and inclination, I understand the potency of the spoken word, which written things may not only express but obscure.

A Barbadian, who has experienced the kind of intellectual property dislocation and dispossession that only the truth-evading, talent trafficking and myopic manuscript misappropriating masters of that plantation society could instigate, I know what it is like to be afflicted by a Bruce St John-like species of dementia.

I’ve learnt to forgive the destruction of thinking talent that my compatriot George Lamming attributes to Barbados’ labour-preaching, true thought leeching political system.

Blacklisted and boycotted by the island’s media and their powerful British, American, Canadian, Indian and other counterparts, I have had to learn to breathe while submerged.

I believe that this has made me stronger, deepening my understanding of heaven and earth’s core principles.

Yucatan yawning

The screenshot at the top of this article shows a segment of an unfinished article I started writing last year and which also links to this project tantalizingly.

Under the title “Barbados, England and California quakes ‘related’?”, that article explores geopsychic, spiritual links between the magnitude 4:4 Los Angeles earthquake of March 18, 2014 and two others in Barbados and England that preceded it by just over a month.

I reproduce that unfinished article here, preserved mid-action, like the corpses of some of those Italians who died in AD 79, when Mount Vesuvius erupted.


Or like the two news announcers in the above screenshot.

It’s mainly the first screenshot that I want to draw readers’ attention to though.

Do you see the word-fragment “mag” in the article?

It’s circled in red, and located in an editorial space I apparently created but for some reason failed to fill.

Like Yucatan yawning, as Barbadian “Father Poet” (one of my deadbeat, dreadbeat “dads”) Kamau Brathwaite might put it, the blank space preceding the “mag” word-fragment attests materially to my dislocation and “distraction”.

It attests to the relative isolation and insecurity of each individual Caribbean island.

More penetratingly, it points to the erosion and virtual erasure of many Caribbean people’s outstanding achievements by the selective silence of plotting and petrified politicians, religious clerics, business people, academics, journalists and other media workers.

Like the prophesied ‘rocks crying out’ (Luke 19:40) I’m committed to breaking that silence.

That’s because I know first-hand how it inflicts psychic pain and injury.

I know by long-running experience and observation how such truth denial is destructive of praise inspiring memory. How like a cancer it undermines the mammary glands of the mind.

A father myself, I know something of how it deprives God, the ground of all good being and belief of the fulfilment and completion of God-like goodness in humanity.

I also know that where humanity fails, to praise God and nurture the divine seed at the core our being and belief, inanimate stones may be mobilized to jog our memories.

Father figures

A girlfriend in Norfolk named Viola says it was the manly mobility and power of “The Rock” that she remembers most, having seen San Andreas recently.

Having not yet seen the movie myself, I sense that the song “Rock In Ethiopia”, by Barbadian geyser Adonijah Alleyne, a peculiarly silent “father figure”, or “baby-daddy” (as Dr Jameca Falcon might say) is more likely to excite my meaning-seeking interest and intrigue.

I think that like Lloyds Bank, which closed my Intelek business account arbitrarily (and then added insult to that injury by dismissively snubbing me when I sent them a legally binding request for an explanation, in line with the Data Protection Act 1998), the self-lionizing, misguidedly moving and shaking Adonijah, and his tragically short-sighted “queen” Nailah could be persuaded to see how my being and beliefs and their own connect inevitably.

After all, are we not all, as individuals, fragmented and incomplete?

Aren’t we, like the word-fragment “mag” (which I believe was in the process of becoming “magnitude”) all to some degree interdependent with others, inevitably?

So says the ebony Martin Luther King Jr and ivory Stephen R Covey.

But some people, like the Lloyds Bank employees who snubbed me may be too bureaucratically bound to things spelt out in “black and white”.

They may be too fundamentalist in financial matters, too preoccupied with external, written records, and therefore dimming and diminishing their own inner light.

And it seems that many in Great Britain today are confounded by this commonwealth’s grey.

I think of the bigoted broadcasting I heard around the celebration of Magna Carta on June 15 – like San Andreas’ elaborate, arguably exaggerated imagery.

I was rather taken aback by the BBC’s and other media houses’ hyperbole.

The girl God psyche

Another Norfolk-based woman-friend and business associate Janice Lear-Gurney can attest to human interdependence convincingly – as can others who suffer from Parkinson’s disease and similar diseases that, like earthquakes, can literally knock us off our feet.

The once exceptionally active, independent-minded Jan, is the central subject of the on-going “Janice Gurney – Life of the Party”  crowd-source funding project and other Intelek holistic health initiatives being planned.

Having previously thought that religious faith was for the birds, she is now sounding the depths of her own spiritual worth and capacity – aided by Intelek’s Linguistic Historical Spirituo-Naturalistic Consciencing technology.

She is discovering the interdependence of faith and reason in alerting humanity to our times and the seasons.

No written code can substitute for that living, Logos-lighted logic.

A million Magna Cartas, like #MagmaCarta, are perennially proved inadequate.

The fault is in our fallibility, as human beings: it is in our inner San Andreas essentially.

The challenge for all of us is to live confidently while fully aware of this underlying, “subprime” uncertainty.


To be continued…(predictably)