The Donkey in the Square: Representation Matters

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Unless this was an A.I. fabrication! On the Facebook page of our Prime Minister, Dr. Luc F. E. Mercelina is a picture of what looked like the official unveiling of a new mural at the Clem Labega Square that prominently features a donkey in the foreground. Apparently, this was intended to be a moment of cultural pride, a cornerstone of the ongoing beautification project for Philipsburg.

The Prime Minister is standing in front of the mural painted on the side of the pay booth at the Clem Labega parking lot where there is not one picture, not a bust, not even a plaque to honor the legendary statesman and founder of the Democratic Party of St. Maarten - which by the way, forms part of the current coalition government.

According to the official press release, “The design draws from old photographs and vintage postcards of Philipsburg.”

Using these as his inspiration, the Anguilla-based artist apparently sought to transport viewers back to an era of unpaved roads and simpler rural life. However, for many observers, this writer included, the nostalgia is soured by the singular, looming figure in the foreground: the donkey.

While the donkey is a historical fact of Caribbean life, its placement as the centerpiece of our capital’s visual narrative is a profound misrepresentation. In the delicate dance of public art, representation matters—not just as a factual record, but as a reflection of a people’s soul, their progress, and their inherent dignity.

The Weight of Symbolism

History is never neutral. When we choose which elements of the past to "beautify" and project onto the walls of our seat of government, we are making a political, cultural and social statement. To argue that the donkey belongs there simply because it was part of our landscape in 1920 is a reductive approach to heritage.

In a modern context, the symbolism of the donkey has shifted. No longer viewed primarily as a sturdy beast of burden, it carries a heavy, pejorative weight today. In the vernacular of the Caribbean and beyond, the donkey is often equated with:

• Stupidity and ignorance.

• A lack of imagination.

• Stubborn subservience.

By centering this imagery at the Clem Labega Square—a space named after a pioneer of St. Maarten’s political and progressive consciousness—the mural inadvertently suggests that our foundational identity is one of "the beast of burden." It is a choice that feels less like a tribute and more like a caricature.

The Timing

The timing of this unveiling adds a layer of irony that is difficult to ignore. Coming immediately on the heels of Black History Month, a time dedicated to honoring the intellectual, artistic, and revolutionary contributions of the African diaspora, including those from St. Martin, the mural’s focus feels particularly tone-deaf.

Black History Month is about reclaiming the narrative from those who sought to diminish it. It is about moving from the "background" of manual enslaved labor into the "foreground" of leadership, creativity, and 21st century thinking. To then pivot to a public installation where the primary representative of the St. Maartener is a donkey is not just a lack of consciousness; it is disrespectful and downright demeaning.

The Danger of the "Vintage" Lens

The use of "vintage postcards" as a source of truth is equally problematic. Those postcards were very rarely produced by the people living in our communities; they were often curated for the colonial eye, romanticizing poverty and framing the Caribbean as a quaint, static backdrop for rich American travelers.

When we replicate those images without critical thought, we are essentially "self-orientalizing"—viewing ourselves through a colonial lens that values our "quaintness" over our complexity. A "beautification project" should seek to elevate the spirit of the capital, not trap it in a postcard of a Great Bay that was defined by its limitations and that obviously is great no more.

The Official Participation and Recognition

The sting of this (mis)representation is amplified by its official endorsement. The images of the Prime Minister and his Chief of Staff posing before the mural, and shared via official press releases, signal that this is the image of us the government wishes to project to the world.

Public art is a constant dialogue between government and the people. When leadership stands before a symbol of the past, they are endorsing its relevance for the future.

When our leaders align themselves with imagery that many find disingenuous and distasteful, it suggests a disconnect between the administration and the cultural sensitivities of the people. Leadership should be the vanguard of a nation’s dignity, ensuring that public spaces inspire the youth rather than reminding them of a perceived "backwardness."

Real Representation

Again, representation matters. Conscious, critical representation that embodies the values of the people and elevates and inspires us even in our darkest moments. His Majesty King Willem-Alexander parked the Royal golden carriage that has depictions of our enslaved ancestors on it precisely because he was made aware and acknowledges the power of representation.

Representation is therefore not merely about "what was." It is about who we are now and who we want to be. True representation should exalt:

1. Agency: Depict the people of St. Martin as the architects of their own history, not just the drivers of beasts of burden.

2. Intellect: Highlight the scholars, musicians, artists, politicians and business people who built this island.

3. Aspiration: Merge historical roots with the vibrant, imaginative energy that defines the island today.

The donkey mural at Clem Labega Square may have been painted with good intentions, but art in the public square must be held to a higher standard than "beautification." It must be held to the standard of truth. And the truth is, the people of St. Martín are more than the animals they once tended; they are a resilient, brilliant, and proud people who deserve to see their greatness—not their burdens—reflected back at them.

And finally, to those who claim that the donkey is mentioned in Father Kemp’s song that is used unlawfully as the so-called “national anthem,” should we be looking forward to more murals highlighting sheep and goats? They are mentioned in the popular song also. And while we’re at it, is a mural or statue of Christopher Columbus who never set foot on this island in the offing as well?

Representation matters. And our elected and appointed representatives should be the first to know that and act accordingly.

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