Remembering George Odlum is less about the past — and more about what our public life is missing today.
At the start of a new year, nations speak easily about plans, progress, and promises. What is spoken about less is voice — whose voices shape the conversation, whose warnings are heard, and whose discomfort we are willing to tolerate in the name of development.
It is at moments like these that Saint Lucia would do well to remember George Odlum.
Odlum was not a man of safe language. He believed that societies do not drift naturally toward justice — they are pushed there by voices willing to speak with urgency and conviction. Comfort, in his view, was never a virtue if it came at the expense of fairness.
He understood leadership differently. It was not measured by popularity, longevity, or applause, but by one’s willingness to confront entrenched power on behalf of those without it. Whether admired or opposed, George Odlum forced engagement. He demanded a response. He made indifference uncomfortable.
That quality is worth recalling today.
As Saint Lucia wrestles with questions of economic pressure, opportunity, inequality, and public trust, the absence of such voices is noticeable. When societies fail to honor contribution and loyalty, it is often because the voices willing to demand fairness have faded from the center of public life. Not because no one speaks — but because few speak with the same moral insistence. Too often, public discourse seeks balance when what is required is courage.
Odlum’s politics were rooted in the belief that the marginalized deserved not sympathy, but justice. He spoke for workers, for the overlooked, and for those who felt excluded from decision-making. He did so unapologetically, accepting controversy as the cost of conviction.
Time has softened the edges of his public image, but it has sharpened his relevance. Many of the questions he raised remain unresolved. In that sense, remembering George Odlum is not an exercise in nostalgia; it is an act of accountability.
He passed on September 28, 2003. But the challenge he posed to Saint Lucia endures:
Are we merely comfortable — or are we fair?
A society that loses its uncomfortable voices risks becoming comfortable with injustice.