The protest by G.B.S.S. students has gone down in history as the only challenge during the revolutionary period in Grenada that went unpunished. As student leaders, we embarked on and emerged victorious from a struggle against a government that typically detained those who opposed it. This act served as a bold and courageous demonstration of student power and will forever be etched in the annals of Grenadian history as a genuine and successful battle. We dared, and we prevailed.
On Sunday, October 14, the seven of us were summoned by the military for a meeting with the Acting Minister of Education, Selwyn Strachan, and his advisor, Jacqueline Creft. As we entered the meeting, we realised that it was to be a meeting with the National Student Council (NSC). The two prominent members of the NSC, Tarli Francis and Wendy Crawford, implored us to resolve the situation by issuing an apology for our actions during the previous week.
We were taken aback. We explained to Tarli and Wendy that the NSC did not represent G.B.S.S., and their push for an apology from us was futile and disappointing. Despite my longstanding friendship with both Wendy and Tarli, I had to counter their recommendation and remain steadfast in our cause and position. The meeting between the two councils proved unproductive, leading to another meeting at 2 P.M. with Selwyn Strachan, Jacqueline Creft, and the NSC.
George Louison seized the opportunity to enumerate several programs initiated by the PRG and the progress achieved in a mere six months. Employing a familiar theme often reserved for those labeled as counter-revolutionaries, he accused us of being pawns manipulated by imperialism. As Minister Louison concluded his vehement speech, he dropped a bombshell by accusing us of committing treason and suggested that we should bear the full weight of the revolution’s consequences.
He appeared to relish this moment, entering a phase of bullying and intimidation. At that point, he likely believed he had instilled fear in us. He proceeded to demand apologies from each of us, asserting that I should begin with my apology. But I couldn’t comply with the Minister’s demand. I felt deeply betrayed. As a supporter of the revolution, my presence at the Ministry was rooted in principle, yet I found myself accused of being a tool of the CIA and local counter-revolutionaries.
It was at that moment that I realised I needed to reevaluate this revolutionary process in Grenada. I knew that I had become an outcast, and there was no turning back. I met the Minister’s gaze squarely and firmly stated that I could not and would never honour his request.
Minister Louison erupted, embarking on the second phase of his verbal abuse. His impassioned sermon lasted for about fifteen minutes, during which he painted a vivid picture of the dire fate that awaited those who dared to disrupt revolutionary processes. He warned us that if we believed the revolution could be defeated, we should think again. As he concluded his speech, he smiled for the first time, evidently convinced that he had made his point and thoroughly shaken us.
Once more, George Louison insisted on receiving apologies. Alexander Gabriel, overwhelmed, finally succumbed and expressed his regret. Gabriel would later join the People’s Revolutionary Army. Stevie Joseph had reached his limit, well aware of the fate that awaited those branded as pariahs by the revolution. He, too, offered his apology. In tears, Michael McMillan voiced his regret.
However, it was Everod Samuel who broke the chain of apologies. Samuel, a deeply religious student, argued that his actions aligned with his principles, and apologising would constitute a betrayal of the trust placed in him by the students. Eric Marshall similarly defended his role in the interim student council. Ian Joseph, in his characteristic culturalist manner, stood resolute. I joined these three in upholding our position. I reiterated to the Minister that our decision was not borne out of animosity towards the revolution but rather a response to what we perceived as flawed judgment on the part of the Ministry.
Yet, unsatisfied with the direction the meeting had taken, we were ordered to return to school and remain silent, awaiting the Ministry of Education’s decision on our fate. My first strategic error of the day occurred when I revealed our intentions to the Minister. I informed him that we had no intention of remaining silent, as we were committed to reporting to the students who had entrusted us with a mandate.
George Louison knew I was not bluffing, prompting him to journey to the school accompanied by his delegation. Upon arrival, he summoned the staff to an emergency meeting and ordered the closure of the auditorium and the seizure of the public address system. As I stepped onto the campus, I realised I had committed a fundamental error by disclosing our intentions to the Minister.
Following an hour-long meeting with the staff, the Minister of Education convened a general meeting of the student body, chaired by George Brizan, a history and economics teacher at G.B.S.S. who would later become Prime Minister of Grenada. As George Louison took the stage, he acknowledged that the student leaders had been entrusted with a mandate by the general student body and were acting on their behalf. He began to craft a narrative of amicable progress stemming from our meeting at the ministry.
The Minister then scored a significant victory by announcing that the Ministry was pleased with the apologies tendered by the student leaders for obstructing its duties. A palpable silence descended upon the auditorium, and it was clear that the majority of students felt betrayed by us.
Having achieved such a significant victory, the Minister should have concluded his discourse on a high note. However, he couldn’t resist gloating and committed an unforced error that he would later come to regret. He called us to the platform and offered us an opportunity to issue public apologies.
Seizing the microphone, I addressed the students, expressing my gratitude for the Minister’s gesture, which allowed us to set the record straight. I explained that three of the seven of us had been bullied into apologising, but in a democracy, the majority’s stance should prevail. The majority of us remained resolute and had fulfilled our obligation to the student body.
George Louison, in hindsight, realised the gravity of his error. By the time we had finished giving our side of the story of our meeting at the Ministry, the student body transformed into an enraged mob. They swarmed around the Minister’s car, violently rocking it in an attempt to overturn it.
Mr. Osbert Benjamin was detained by students, and he even faced physical aggression from one of them. Jacqueline Creft, who had recently been a teacher at G.B.S.S., was allowed to depart unscathed due to the respect students held for her.
I tried to pacify the students, urging them to let reason prevail, but they insisted that I had done my part and should step aside to let them make their voices heard. I felt paralysed, unable to lead the student movement for the first time. What drove me to despair even more was the looming possibility that the military might be called in to quell the unrest.
On Sunday, October 7, it was announced that the Minister of Education would address the nation at 7:30 p.m. In his speech, Louison outlined the remarkable progress achieved in education in just six months of the revolution but claimed that these gains were now under threat due to a group of seven students at G.B.S.S. He branded us as a reckless gang that would face the full brunt of the revolution.
Louison singled out Samuel and me as dangerous elements who exploited students for personal recognition. His speech culminated in our indefinite suspension from G.B.S.S., with strict orders not to enter any secondary school on the island, and our parents were required to report to the Ministry of Education the following day.
The Minister believed that we, the seven of us, were tough, but his meeting with the parents proved tougher. The parents were appalled by the Minister’s decision to escalate a simple issue into a national spectacle. They voiced their support for the demand to either reinstate Mr. Francis or swiftly appoint a permanent replacement and demanded the immediate lifting of our suspension.
The Minister conceded to the first demand by naming a teacher at the school, Mr. George McGuire, as Acting Principal. However, he refused to reinstate us unless we issued public apologies. McGuire would later become the Minister of Education following the collapse of the revolution.
Consequently, the focus of the struggle at G.B.S.S. shifted. The battle cry was no longer solely for a principal but for the removal of our suspension. Sensing that students would continue to protest, the Minister warned that any student found disrupting the school’s peace would also face suspension. These threats fell on deaf ears.
An underground committee led by Ralph Phillip was formed immediately. The committee gave the Minister a deadline of Thursday, October 11, to reinstate us. The Minister remained unmoved. Simultaneously, Acting Principal George McGuire initiated negotiations for our return.
By the end of the school day on Friday, October 12, our suspension had not been lifted. Consequently, students from G.B.S.S. and the Anglican High School marched together, brandishing placards denouncing the suspension. One placard bore the message “Reinstate Students Now,” while another, held by Johnny Francis, etched itself in our collective memory: “We Support the Revolution, but We Condemn Suspension.”
The students marched to the Ministry, where they voiced their demands, drowning out the Minister, who was about to depart the country. They then proceeded through the city to broadcast their message to the entire nation.
On that fateful Friday in October 1979, a potential bloodbath involving students was narrowly averted. Several soldiers stationed at Fort Rupert had initially intended to make a public example of the student leaders, believing that it was the only way to quell the protests. Unbeknownst to these soldiers, the protest was not orchestrated by the seven suspended students, but by an underground committee. At the last moment, they received orders to maintain peace and allow the students to march.
The students had achieved a moral victory over the Minister of Education. Parents throughout the country were appalled that Louison had overstepped his authority by suspending students. Citizens grew alarmed at Louison’s heavy-handedness, and the local, regional, and international press provided extensive coverage of the students’ demand for the reinstatement of their leaders.
The Central Committee of the NJM did not waste time and convened an emergency meeting. Selwyn Strachan, the Minister of Communications and Works, was appointed Acting Minister of Education and tasked with resolving the issue before students returned to the streets in protest on Monday. The Central Committee recognised that the students were on the brink of shutting down the school entirely. Selwyn Strachan’s mission was to reinstate us while also eliciting an apology for our actions.
On Sunday, October 14, the seven of us were summoned by the military for a meeting with the Acting Minister of Education, Selwyn Strachan, and his advisor, Jacqueline Creft. As we entered the meeting, we realised that it was to be a meeting with the National Student Council (NSC). The two prominent members of the NSC, Tarli Francis and Wendy Crawford, implored us to resolve the situation by issuing an apology for our actions during the previous week.
We were taken aback. We explained to Tarli and Wendy that the NSC did not represent G.B.S.S., and their push for an apology from us was futile and disappointing. Despite my longstanding friendship with both Wendy and Tarli, I had to counter their recommendation and remain steadfast in our cause and position. The meeting between the two councils proved unproductive, leading to another meeting at 2 P.M. with Selwyn Strachan, Jacqueline Creft, and the NSC.
Selwyn Strachan deserves commendation for his adept handling of the meeting. The atmosphere was relaxed, fostering candid discussions on both sides. At certain junctures, humour permeated the room, breaking the tension. Strachan openly acknowledged that George Louison had made a grave mistake, yet he contended that the students’ actions were unjustified and uncalled for. In response, we pointed out to Selwyn Strachan that had it not been for the Minister’s arrogance, the situation would have been resolved much earlier. The meeting continued well into the early hours of the morning.
It was approximately 3:10 a.m., and the meeting had been underway for nearly 15 hours. Neither side was willing to yield, and the discussions seemed to be stuck in a repetitive loop, with Selwyn Strachan persisting in his demand for an apology while my colleagues and I remained resolute. Finally, Selwyn Strachan relented and informed us that he was lifting the suspension. He promised to make an announcement to that effect on Radio Free Grenada. True to his word, the Minister followed through with the announcement. However, there was an inherent bias in favour of the People’s Revolutionary Government (PRG) in the announcement, which did not come as a surprise to us or the student population at G.B.S.S.
In a subsequent Central Committee meeting, George Louison faced censure for his mishandling of what was, in essence, a minor issue. Despite this rebuke, PRG leaders continued to accuse the CIA of using student leaders to undermine the revolution.
The protest by G.B.S.S. students has gone down in history as the only challenge during the revolutionary period in Grenada that went unpunished. As student leaders, we embarked on and emerged victorious from a struggle against a government that typically detained those who opposed it. This act served as a bold and courageous demonstration of student power and will forever be etched in the annals of Grenadian history as a genuine and successful battle. We dared, and we prevailed.
Pastor Terrence Griffith