COMMENTARY: Jab Jab Politics: When the Prime Minister “Plays the Devil”

By : Christiana Best-Giacomini, Ph.D.

September 9, 2025

When Grenada’s leader covered himself in black oil and chains for Carnival, he sparked a debate about authenticity, power, and what it means to lead in the Caribbean.

The video went viral within hours. Dickon Mitchell—Prime Minister of Grenada, Carriacou, and Petite Martinique appeared in full “jab jab” costume: his body gleaming with black oil, chains draped across his torso, devil horns crowning his head as he danced through the streets of Carnival 2025. Social media lit up. Admirers hailed his display of cultural authenticity, while critics questioned whether such a performance was fitting for a head of government.

But jab jab isn’t just another Carnival costume; it’s one of Grenada’s most powerful symbols of resistance, memory, and liberation.

When Playing Devil Meant Playing Free

Picture 1834, just after slavery’s abolition in Grenada. Newly freed people created Carnival traditions with a score to settle. Their enslavers had long used blackness to dehumanize them, calling them devils and demons. So, the freed Grenadians leaned into the insult.

They covered themselves in black oil, tar, and molasses, turning racist imagery back on itself. They added chains (instruments of celebration, not bondage), horns (symbols of power, not evil), and coffins (marking slavery’s death). In one brilliant cultural move, they transformed oppression’s symbols into mockery and pride.

“By ‘playing the devil,’ they reclaimed it as an act of defiance and dignity,” explains cultural scholar Melissa Noel. Jab jab became embodied protest, a way of saying: if you call us devils, we’ll be devils on our own terms.

The Lawyer Who Leads Through Culture

Mitchell isn’t your typical politician. True, he’s a lawyer by training, a former CARICOM Chair, and a strong advocate for deepening economic ties between Africa and the Caribbean. But he’s also the kind of leader who shows up at community events without fanfare, takes photos with neighbors and strangers alike, and kneels down to interact with children. He doesn’t let the weight of his office create distance; instead, he chooses presence, accessibility, and connection.

His leadership style is not just about policies but about connecting with his people on a cultural level. For Mitchell, culture and governance aren’t separate domains; they’re intertwined. At the 2025 AfriCaribbean Trade and Investment Forum, he promoted economic partnerships and green finance initiatives. Yet he’s also the leader who will cover himself in oil and chains to join his people’s most transgressive tradition.

The Power of Playing Devil

Anthropologist Michael Herzfeld calls this “cultural intimacy”, those aspects of culture that might embarrass outsiders but bind insiders. To the world, a prime minister covered in oil may seem undignified. To Grenadians, it signals authentic belonging.

This highlights the “postcolonial double bind” that requires leaders to be both cosmopolitan and indigenous, respected abroad yet culturally rooted at home. Many Caribbean politicians manage this by compartmentalizing: suits for international meetings, quick appearances at cultural events for locals.

Mitchell chose differently. His jab jab performance says: I can negotiate trade deals and embody resistance traditions. These roles are not contradictory; they are complementary.

Beyond Respectability Politics

Carnival has always been political theater, where rules are suspended. Calypsonians mock leaders, revelers invert hierarchies, and the powerful become playful.

By participating as jab jab, not in pretty mas or a safer costume, Mitchell aligns himself with Caribbean traditions of resistance. He signals that effective governance does not require abandoning the cultural practices that sustained his people through oppression. His commitment to his culture communicates to the citizens of Grenada his connection to them.

This is especially important as Caribbean nations grapple with colonial legacies, reparations debates, and economic dependency. Resistance traditions aren’t just entertainment; they are political statements about identity and survival.

The Risks and Rewards

Mitchell’s choice has risks. Critics wonder if cultural performance substitutes for policy substance. Others fear Jab Jab’s devil imagery reinforces hyper-masculine tropes. And abroad, such performances might reinforce stereotypes of Caribbean informality.

Yet Mitchell’s record complicates these critiques. His achievements in economic diplomacy and regional leadership show that international partners can respect both his policy skills and his cultural authenticity. The challenge is not choosing between authenticity and effectiveness; it’s proving they can coexist.

A New Model of Leadership

Mitchell offers a model for postcolonial leaders: rather than treating cultural grounding as a liability, he makes it a source of strength. In an era of political alienation, his approach suggests how leadership can become more participatory and rooted in lived traditions.

This “embodied governance,” leading through shared cultural experience, challenges Western models of leadership that rely on distance, formality, and elite detachment.

Playing Devil to Serve Democracy

As one observer put it, the real choice is between leaders who “play the devil” and those who “are the devil”; between those who embody resistance traditions and those who rule without cultural grounding or democratic accountability.

Mitchell’s jab jab is more than political theater. It’s a statement about authentic leadership in societies still negotiating colonial legacies. The future of Caribbean governance doesn’t require discarding cultural distinctiveness, but rather engaging with it creatively to meet modern challenges.

In a world where leaders often appear removed from ordinary citizens, there is something refreshing about a prime minister willing to get his hands dirty, literally in the cultural traditions that define his nation. Sometimes, to serve democracy, you must be willing to play the devil.

(Dr Christiana Best is an Associate Professor at the University of Saint Joseph, Connecticut)

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