In discussions of political science, the concept of an “iron triangle” often emerges, referring to a paradigm where the goals of three distinct parties align, intersect and coincide in such a way that it cements a particular arrangement of power.
An early espouser of this sort of mental framework was former New York World publisher Ralph Pulitzer (son of Pulitzer Prize eponym Joseph), specifically in a January 1919 statement where he describes the two antagonistic coalitions in conflict over how to deal with Germany and its allies following World War I.
One of the triumvirates, in Mr. Pulitzer’s opinion, comprised “the bourbonism of politicians,” “the business classes,” and “professional soldiers,” who wanted to punish their vanquished foes. On the other side, Mr. Pulitzer arrayed “the inarticulate masses of the nations,” “liberal and thoughtful minds,” and U.S. President Woodrow Wilson, who were in favor of the kinder and gentler League of Nations approach.
In current times, the “iron triangle” is more generally used to explain how certain sectors of government become bloated, due to the vectors of policymakers, special interests and government bureaucracy. To update Mr. Pulitzer’s observation, for example, consider how congressional war hawks, private military contractors and the U.S. Department of Defense all pull for greater and greater spending on warfare, even during times of peace.
The Cayman Islands has its own iron triangle — elected lawmakers, senior-level civil servants and rank-and-file government employees, who for their own reasons (primarily job security) want to see government continue to grow.
In Cayman’s arrangement, senior civil servants are analagous to U.S. government contractors in that neither is directly answerable to elected lawmakers, and each is insulated from whistle-blowing from the rank and file.
One result is Cabinet ministers have little practical control over the chief officers charged with executing their policy decisions. Case in point: The handful of senior civil servants who were placed on “required leave” at the beginning of the UDP administration in 2009, yet continued to receive full pay for years (and as far as we know, still might be).
While paying people six-figure salaries to stay at home is patently absurd, there are good reasons to keep politicians apart from the civil service.
However, there are no acceptable explanations for the environment of fear that has been cultivated among the rank-and-file government employees, many who — according to Complaints Commissioner Nicola Williams — routinely do not report blatant wrongdoing, even anonymously, because they are “afraid of reprisals, both professionally and personally.”
Understandably so, since senior civil servants have an arsenal of weapons (that they apparently are unhesitant to deploy) with which to punish complainants, including restricting vacations, leaking private information, ordering demotions or simply not renewing contracts. Those taxpayer-enabled tyrants must be identified to the public, and where appropriate criminally prosecuted, not only for silencing whistle-blowers but also for committing misdeeds that sparked the complaints.
Because of government’s power structure, however, elected lawmakers have little recourse other than creating new legislation that may or may not be followed.
Unfortunately, Cabinet is unable do what any capable CEO would in response to such a damning report, in the overall context of chronic financial failure: Wipe out the management.
Lawmakers just don’t have the authority to hire or fire civil servants — however, Governor Helen Kilpatrick and Deputy Governor Franz Manderson do.
Ms. Kilpatrick and Mr. Manderson have long been sounding the horn of “good governance,” loudly and clearly. Now it’s their turn to do more than just pontificate.
It’s time to swing the hammer, and pound Cayman’s iron triangle back into shape.
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