Patterns we refuse to see

THE EDITOR, Madam:

A long study of the history of Jamaica reveals that what we often describe as modern political conflict is, in truth, a repetition of much older patterns. Today we see orange and green, the colours of the People’s National Party and the Jamaica Labour Party, but the structure beneath these colours pre-dates both parties, and even the birth of the modern Jamaican State.

During the plantation era, power rested in the hands of a small elite. Opportunity often depended less on merit and more on proximity to authority. Loyalty to the system was rewarded, while dissent was discouraged. The colonial administration that followed maintained similar dynamics. Structures of governance functioned, but moral accountability frequently weakened when power became insulated from those it governed.

Moments of resistance exposed these fractures. The Morant Bay Rebellion led by Paul Bogle was not only a response to hardship, but a cry against a governing order that had lost its ethical foundation. It reminded authority that legitimacy cannot exist without justice.

Independence in 1962 promised renewal. Yet history suggests that systems often survive the symbols that replace them. Where colonial loyalty once determined access and advancement, political allegiance can now serve a similar function. Communities sometimes become defined less by citizenship and more by affiliation.

The tragedy is not that political parties exist. They are essential to democracy. The concern arises when loyalty to party eclipses loyalty to country, when institutions become surrounded by supporters rather than truth tellers, and when public service quietly shifts from responsibility to entitlement.

This raises a deeper question about power itself. Public institutions attract some of the nation’s brightest minds. Yet, why does integrity often appear strongest before entering public service, only to weaken after becoming part of the system? When the meaning of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ changes, when agreement becomes loyalty to authority and dissent becomes disloyalty to the State, governance begins to lose its moral centre.

Jamaica must therefore practise the discipline of learning, unlearning and relearning the fundamentals of nationhood. A mature nation does not deny its patterns. It confronts them and chooses a different path.

Integrity cannot remain hidden behind ambition, patriotism or political colour. The dignity and beauty of a nation are revealed in how it holds power accountable, how it serves its people, and how it preserves its moral compass.

If the structures of loyalty and patronage that shaped the plantation era can still be recognised in our modern political culture, then the question Jamaica must honestly ask itself is this: Have we truly dismantled the systems of power inherited from history, or have we simply changed the colours that represent them?

LEVAR MCLEOD