Little things add up—sometimes, they can sneak up insidiously so that we don’t see them coming until something happens. It’s not that signs haven’t been there, it’s that they don’t seem important enough for us to take note.
Take the recent situation when Dr Joel Teelucksingh, a newspaper columnist, who is described as a specialist medical officer in internal medicine at the San Fernando General Hospital.

He was sent on leave “to facilitate an internal, fair and transparent investigation into a matter of compliance with the Regional Health Authority’s governing law under the RHA Code of Conduct and the relevant policies,” according to a statement from the SWRHA.
The subject of the investigation, it seems, was an article written by the doctor, The Emperor’s New Hospital, which was thought to violate the code of conduct.
The Health Minister, Terrence Deyalsingh, quickly intervened, ordering that Dr Teelucksingh be allowed to continue working while the investigation continues.
Dr Teelucksingh’s lawyers have since declared that the investigation lacks legal justification and violates his rights, and should be dropped.

There is a line between freedom of expression and contractual agreements, and institutions are quick to rely on the latter.
Some years ago, my role as a columnist provoked the ire of the head of the institution where I worked, although I had not written anything that could be considered a breach of the relationship that exists between an employee and their employer.
I was told I had to stop my column. It was an act of bullying, and I resisted, seeking legal advice, especially as there was precedent, and there was no clause in my contract to prevent me from writing.
I surmise that the effort to censor me was out of fear that I might write something embarrassing, which is what seems to be the case in Dr Teelucksingh’s current imbroglio.

The thing is that many of the ills that plague our public institutions are allowed to fester because people within are afraid of being victimised should they speak out.
Around the end of 2016, I had surgery at the San Fernando General Hospital—it was only possible because I could manage to buy the necessary medication and other things.
The hospital simply did not have them.
During my aftercare visits, I would inevitably strike up conversations with the young doctors. You know what was the most common theme? They wanted to practice in the medical field because they wanted to do good, to improve lives, to make a difference.

Yet, without even having fully completed their training, they were disillusioned and demotivated. Why?
It wasn’t just the lack of facilities and resources; it was more because they felt the politics of the system crushed any attempt at improvements.
Criticism of any kind and recommendations of any value were dismissed, frowned upon. The few seniors who cared were not encouraged up the rungs, so they had learnt to keep their mouths shut.
The prevailing maxim was don’t rock the boat. Idealism was harshly replaced by cynicism. Thus, the fundamental aspects of recalibrating a system based on the knowledge of those working within it are lost, leaving only cosmetic changes.

This has become so ingrained in our society that we don’t notice how it has added up, and it takes some public event to remind us.
Do we see this as a threat to freedom of speech? Do we believe that censorship should prevail over the instinct to call out costly pappyshows in the interest of public good? What is the difference between a right and a responsibility?
I was tempted to say that not everyone has access to public platforms, but that is no longer true. The easy availability of social media platforms has given the capacity to anyone who feels like sharing their opinions.
It has turned out to be a double-edged sword.

It seems that the people who inhabit these spaces see the world through a very limited set of lenses: religion, political party affiliations (I think that is different from politics itself), race, and negativity.
It is rare for comment sections to carry anything of relevance to the subject being pounced upon.
It is either the textbook definition of functional illiteracy, or that it doesn’t really matter what the topic is, the response will come from the same space.
It’s like they are coiled springs of rage just waiting for the moment to vent. Where does that come from? It descends to such vulgar and irrelevant exchanges that you shudder to imagine what their lives at home must be like.
There is an aspect of this online bullying that has a dreadful impact on those who genuinely want to offer helpful insights to the public. People prefer to keep their mouths shut because they know realistically that they will open themselves to abuse.
After the recent Appeal Court ruling that buggery was illegal on account of the savings law clause in the Constitution—a clause which apparently prevents colonial laws from being challenged on constitutional grounds, I asked a few people if they were going to write about it.
The surprising answer was that they already knew the kind of backlash they would get from social media activists, and they would prefer to let the established bodies with vested interests raise it.
This bullying has effectively reduced healthy and constructive discussions in the public space, through self-censorship. Bad news.

Vaneisa Baksh is a columnist with the Trinidad Express, an editor and a cricket historian. She is the author of a biography of Sir Frank Worrell.