Jamaica’s general election for 2025 has come and it has gone. When I look back to the elections of the 1970s, of the 1980s and of the 1990s, I have to agree with Chief Justice Sykes, in remarks he made to judges who were newly sworn in this week — that our elections have taken a turn more for peace. He lauded the legal profession for playing a major role in that achievement.
During the course of election day I followed as many news outlets as possible to ascertain how much my compatriots had learned from the past, especially from that of the turbulent 1980 election, when many of our people were brutally murdered, including a schoolmate of mine along with other members of her family. I wanted to juxtapose the political atmosphere of this political season which culminated in Wednesday’s event, against my recollection as a young man who was in his early days in university at the time, captured in the following words of poetry which I had penned decades ago out of utter frustration, out of seething anger, and out of sheer disillusionment:
Their speeches I hear daily,
The promises that they make,
The gunshots in the distance,
Election year again.
Charge and counter charge they make,
They infect the air with lies,
Confusing most poor people,
Election year again.
News release – a bulletin,
Seven people died last night,
A child was killed this morning,
Election year again.
Families are divided,
They are torn by politics,
They die for party leaders,
Election year again.
Politicians don’t get hurt,
Just the fools and innocent,
Seats are bought with human blood,
Election year again.
The price of rice just went up,
And the price of chicken too,
Life keeps on getting harder,
Election year again.
“Hey, yute! Which side yuh vote for?”
“Mi nah vote – mi neutral man!”
“Choose a side or make yuh will!”
Election year again.
Eight o’clock they blocked the roads,
Many soldiers with their guns,
Fifty people were detained,
Election year again.
Some preachers they preach sermons,
Not on Christ, but politics!
People die and go to hell!
Election year again.
The P.M. – he was welcomed,
He now reads the eulogy,
A young man lies there – silent,
Election year again.
Psychiatrists are busy,
All their patients filled with fear,
Their future is unstable,
Election year again.
Some run to other countries,
Everyone can’t run away,
Most men must brave the horror,
Election year again.
“Thank God, I lost nobody!”
“Let’s pretend it was a dream.”
These thoughts won’t stop the danger,
Election year again.
How we forget the terror,
We encounter at such times,
Till once again we face it,
Election year again.
Against those words, which did no justice to the terror nor to the horror of politics past, we have, I think, come quite a long way as a people. Although there were reports, to a relatively small degree, of voter intimidation, in, perhaps, one instance when the security forces had to be called, the day was, relatively, a peaceful one. But, I heard nothing of violence, with the exception of one political candidate who struck a female poll worker in the face which warranted a police report to be filed against him. By and large, there were reports of festivity and of camaraderie within a confluence of supporters from the two major political parties — with dancing and vuvuzelas blaring in the streets, causing some obstruction to vehicular traffic.
There were, on the day, unconfirmed reports of people being turned away from polling stations; there were reports of how slow the voting process was; there were reports of low voter turnout; there were reports of the challenges that were faced by disabled individuals who were trying to vote; and, later in the night, as the returns began to come in from the polling stations across the country, there was a report of vandalism which disrupted the Internet services of many customers in different parts of the island. And yet, up to the time of writing, there were no reports of any injuries or of any deaths due to politics.
I was surprised that some of the political candidates, including a leader of one of the political parties, who appeared to be ignorant of the laws surrounding what their conduct should and should not have been around the precincts of the polling stations. How could they have been so completely unaware that only the candidates running in each of the political constituencies had right of access to the polling stations where their names were on the ballot, and only for a very brief period of time not to exceed five minutes?
The slap that the female poll worker had received was due, for instance, to one such ignorant political candidate. As such people are our prospective lawmakers, their behaviour did not bode well with me, but it did not, by any means, dim my impressions of how far we have come as a people, nor my expectations for our future, politically speaking. How imperfect the process of voting is, in so many liberal democracies across the world, which were designed, instituted and managed in order to channel the decision of the populace towards safeguarding the welfare of life, only to achieve the complete opposite in the process.
Be that as it may, my country, I verily believe, has come a very long way towards peace, in the realm of political activism, but there is still much room for improvement. I think that we can put away our short pants and put on the long ones now.
