Dara E Healy

PROMOTERS OF events generally like the idea of "big." The larger an event, the more people who turn out, the more successful it is considered.

As a producer of plays and other creative activities, I get it. More participants usually mean greater income for the project. Sponsors often want to know how many people your event will attract so they can gauge the level of exposure for their product or service.

But what if bigger were not always better when it comes to our Carnival? What if the secret to the sustainability of our Carnival is to support smaller, community-based carnivals and return to a more organic expression of this ancient ritual?

It is important to remember that traditional masquerades - the ones with links to Hindu, Ifa/Orisha, Indigenous or Muslim beliefs - were not only about resistance to economic repression and social inequity. Masquerade, particularly in the 1960s and 70s, also made statements against cultural erasure as a result of global forces. After colonialism ended, reclaiming Caribbean identity preoccupied creatives across our region. This quest was a common theme in dance, literature, film, theatre, music and the mas.

Claudia Jones, originally from Belmont, was one of the TT nationals living abroad who understood the revolutionary, yet community-oriented power of our Carnival. The first carnival in London organised under Claudia's leadership took place in 1959, in the aftermath of racial violence instigated by 'Keep Britain White' mobs.

The objectives of the carnival included showing 'the British population the creativity that Caribbean people produce and to demonstrate that they had no intention of being intimidated by racists.' In the brochure that was produced to mark this historic event, Claudia made the point that 'a people's art is the genesis of their freedom.'

As TT-inspired carnivals got larger, the parade on the streets became a source of confrontation with the police and residents. In the Toronto Caribana carnival, the police force '…repeatedly demonstrated over the years that it makes a problematic association between large gatherings of black and other people of colour and public acts of violence.'

Similarly, during Notting Hill Carnival in London, the festival was subjected to 'attacks on its existence from the British media, local residents' associations, the Metropolitan Police and the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea.'

Last year a participant at the Labor Day carnival in New York commented, 'Now it just feels so policed. But I'll have a good time, regardless.'

However, it would be simplistic to ascribe the challenges we face with Carnival only to factors such as the size of the bands, the route or the seemingly extortionate rates charged by some state agencies for particular services. The State's being the main body responsible for cultural policy continues to be problematic for artists, the people who create the mas. As Gordon Rohlehr articulates, culture is viewed more as 'a commodity for sale in the market. Cultural d