‘I want to let the light in’

President-elect Paula-Mae Weekes is a stately and dignified figure – perhaps even intimidating, with her grave expression and commanding height (she’s five foot nine and three-quarters). Until recently an Appeal Court judge, she has an unblemished public reputation and is highly regarded – as demonstrated by her unanimous election by the Electoral College on January 19, in a rare display of political unity.

But the President-elect is also a very down-to-earth person who intends to be a people’s president. She’s begun giving interviews in advance of her formal accession to office next month, and, for someone who’s rarely had to do it before, seems comfortable talking about herself publicly.

By contrast, she’s a little formal when the interview begins with serious social and political subjects. Both hands planted on her desk, she’s brisk and firm, and speaks in rapid, composed sentences.

But there are laughter and exclamations when more personal topics come up. Once or twice she even hides her face in her hands in mock dismay.

Paula-Mae Weekes began life in Woodbrook before moving to Diego Martin at four. She had a younger brother, Robert, who died almost 20 years ago; their father was an insurance agent, then became a seaman and vanished from their lives. But her mother, born an Oxley, was one of seven children, all of whom lived in the west, so she was part of a large family.

LICKS FOR

PAULA-MAE

Little Paula-Mae went to Miss Ritchie’s school on Phillips Street, then Tranquillity Junior, where she sat the Common Entrance practice test a year early and came first. “I was convinced I was the number-one student and need do no work,” she remembers. “I was recalcitrant…it was licks whole year.”

Suitably chastened, she mended her ways and famously became a Bishop’s girl. She spent “seven wonderful years” there, and many classmates are still her friends today. She did economics, history and French, but looking back, she thinks one of the most important subjects was the “philosophy” taught by the principal, Miss Shurland, really a practical course on dealing with life beyond school.

It wasn’t always obvious that she was acting on that wise advice. Applying to the University of the West Indies, she and her friend Joanna filled out the forms on the dining table at her friend’s house. Joanna’s father, Justice Telford Georges, lamented that none of his children had followed him into the law – and Paula-Mae said she would. So it “wasn’t really a decision,” she admits. Asked how she later chose what area of law to specialise in, she holds her head, saying it will sound as though she simply drifted through her career, because, she claims, “I didn’t really decide on criminal law.”

She took it up, she says, because she was fascinated by the law of evidence while at the Hugh Wooding Law School. So she spent 11 years at the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions, worked with the late Theodore Guerra for ten months, and then opened her own chambers.

In 1996 she became a judge – “Here we go again!” she groans: she didn’t apply for the job, but was approached Chief Justice Michael de la Bastide.

She became an Appeal Court judge nine years later. She had enjoyed the excitement of being a trial judge, but liked the camaraderie of being part of a panel, though sometimes there were “some very fiery conversations” about their verdicts.

She left the Judiciary after 20 years,” for a number of reasons”: she doesn’t elaborate beyond saying she wanted to be involved in training. When she got the call to ask if she would consider being President, she had begun teaching courses at the law school in criminal-law skills such as cross-examination. She was also an appellate judge in the tiny Turks and Caicos Islands, where the Appeal Court sits for brief periods each year.

CALLS FORLEGAL DEPT

At present she has the use of an office in the Parliament building, but is not there full time – “I come here by appointment only”; and there’s no training in how to be President, though she is reacquainting herself with the relevant sections of the Constitution. As it stands, the President has one legal adviser.

“To my mind that’s wholly inadequate,” she says. “Governance on the whole is becoming more difficult and the Office of the President has to move with the times. A legal department would be ideal.”

Governance has become harder, she believes, because “the world is becoming more complex. Citizens are better informed, and more demanding, as is their right; the law is more complex – you can’t apply 20th-century solutions to 21st-century problems.”

Her legal background is an advantage in some ways, in terms of “sitting for long periods reading, concentrating and analysing legal provisions,” though constitutional law is not her forte.

She admits, however, “I suppose I’ll have to resist the temptation of feeling I know how a matter ought to be resolved.” The Constitution allows little leeway for independent action by the President, who “in some respects at the end of the day is a glorified rubber stamp.”

But there are situations where he or she has some discretion. Also, she adds, “It’s not so much about the constitutional powers as the ability of the office-holder to speak, without entering the fray, behind closed doors when appropriate, with the Prime Minister or the Leader of the Opposition – ‘a word fitly spoken,’ as the Bible says.

SHINE A SPOTLIGHT

“Filling offices is another important function; given our system, the President is depended upon for that.” On receiving her instrument of election, she said her concerns might include crime and young people. But exactly how a non-executive President can exert influence remains to be seen, she allows.

There’s moral suasion; and as someone who’s been part of the legal system and understands what caused the problems – such as the notorious backlog of cases – she may also see possible solutions that don’t require much expenditure. For instance, she points out, many magistrates don’t sit from 9 am; it wouldn’t cost anything to get them to do so.

It might sound political, she says, “But it’s not partisan.” Some problems require “someone in a position to shine a spotlight on them who doesn’t fear any backlash…So I’m hoping there are small things that I can get moving.”

When she received her instrument of election on January 29, she stood out between the black-robed parliamentary presiding officers for at least two reasons. One was the strawberry-pink suit she wore. The outfit wasn’t specially bought for the occasion: on retiring from the Bench, she banished as many dark clothes from her wardrobe as she could, so it’s now a lot less formal and more colourful (though today she’s crisply suited in black and white).

I DON’T DO

COCKTAIL PARTIES

Another reason is that all her predecessors have been men – and married men, too, so that in effect the country has had two for the price of one, with the President’s wife expected to attend tea parties for good causes and be patron of assorted charities. With characteristic directness, the President-elect responds, “I don’t think there’s anyone who can tell you they’ve ever seen me at a tea party.”

What’s more, “I don’t do cocktail parties – but I suppose it comes with the territory.” She’ll make some concessions: she’ll select some suitable causes to support, “and will do my best to attend in my garden-party attire.” No doubt the strawberry-pink suit will be perfect for one of these obligatory outings.

The President-elect hasn’t been told anything yet about moving into the Cottage, the building in the grounds of President’s House where the incumbent lives. Much of President’s House itself collapsed in 2010; though some work has been done, it’s basically a ruin. She’s spoken to President Carmona about it, and has been told the intention is to get work moving again soon. She’s troubled by the neglect of such historic buildings: “They’re important for the national psyche. The citizen going by can’t help feeling it says something if the building that should house the Head of State is in shambles. I understand that resources are a big problem, but every effort should be made to restore these buildings to their former dignity, even if it’s only the façade at first.”

In any case, she hopes to spend as many nights as possible at her own home in Diego Martin: never married, she lives with her elderly mother, whose life she doesn’t want to disrupt, though she concedes it may be sometimes more convenient to use the Cottage when she must attend functions after work.

Metaphorically, she’d like to let more light into the Office of the President, so that people understand what should go on there, “what the President means to them within the constitutional framework. There are things shrouded in mystery that should not be.” So while acknowledging there are some things it would be imprudent to disclose, she wants to “open the windows, as far as is appropriate.”

To be continued tomorrow