Michael McAnuff-Jones | The albatross and the uncommitted

This article looks ahead about our country decades in the future. It is not about our current government. It is about a growing feature in our democracy. It’s about us. The headlines shouted low voter turnout in the recent elections in Jamaica. What is unmistakably clear is that the turnout continues to be uncomfortably low.

To mistake these numbers for statistics is to miss the point. They are not a whisper; they are a loud, collective “ah sah” – a weary expiration of indifferent breath from the soul of a nation.

This is not a door slammed in anger. It is a rickety door left half-open on rusted hinges, swollen at the bottom by the relentless rain of disappointment.

Walk through any parish square a few mornings after the rally. The relative silence beyond the beer, malt and food is eerie. It is quiet after the dub plate fades. All that remains are discoloured posters, peeling in the Jamaican weather man’s “scattered showers,” a perfect metaphor for promises that cannot withstand the slightest downpour of reality.

These numbers are not bold lines but a picture of frustration, painted in badly mixed paint from a back-door shop in Kingston – the colour of deferred dreams and compromised futures.

The numbers cry for an end to a system designed to bring people into power or keep people in power, rather than move parties into service. They demand an end to a political machinery that naturally divides the people to earn the right to serve them ( or rule them if you listen closely to how some speak), pitting neighbour against neighbour for a fleeting electoral victory in constituency or state.

Look closer, and the statistics take on human form.

They are the hardened look of the villager who hears the same resurrected promises every five years. They are the economic reality of the Kingston dweller who buys toothpaste by the squeeze, not the box.

BITTER TASTE

They are the bitter taste of bush-tea for bright rural graduates where I come from. They hear, “we have your future in mind,” and recognise the hollow echo. These are the words they’ve always heard – now even louder with higher MP salaries at stake.

This apathy is no longer fleeting. It has become an albatross of mistrust around the nation’s neck – a river of potential with waves too tired to rise.

Ultimately, these numbers are the chains that keep hands in pockets, one hand on a lager, the other on a spliff – a performance of disengagement. No hands are free, many fingers too shamed, to cast ballots for a system that cast them aside.

This Jamaican condition, while personal, is not without precedent. Democracy often erodes slowly, not with noise but with the stones of public indifference.

After the First World War, the Weimar Republic was plagued by crises, polarization, and disillusionment. Apathy allowed extremists to rise. The Nazi Party thrived in the vacuum of a passive populace.

In Chile, desperation weakened democracy, until a military coup in 1973 ended decades of rule.

CIVICUS Monitor warns: “authoritarian drift is not accidental. It is fueled by profound social discontent: disenchantment with traditional political parties, persistent inequality, and growing citizen disengagement.”

The Bible is stark: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” What are Jamaicans’ hopes? They are simple.

STARTS WITH PEOPLE

A Jamaica that starts with the people. Governance that focuses on pressing problems, putting popularity, power, perks, and privileges in sixth place.

The numbers are a cry – a silent scream – for an end to a governance culture that makes the people subservient to those they employ. A cry to be treated as rights holders in the collective enterprise that is Jamaica, not as beneficiaries of benevolent rulers.

We must disturb this comfort-with-indifference. We must demand “servant-leadership,” as the Bible speaks loudly, and as been written about by a modern-day “prophet”, Professor Neville Ying. Church leaders must not be court-prophets, but oracles of Almighty God who speak truth.

We must challenge the shrug, the “oh well,” that greets election results. If we do not, the political class will hear in our resignation “You are no longer important to me.”

Yet, in this bleak landscape, there is good news. The voice of disinterest is still a voice. It declares that “party first” is no longer valid.

As Bishop Al Miller says, it must be ‘Jamaica First’. The uncommitted and apathetic are not a problem to be solved. They are letters from the nation’s soul, written in frustration and despair.

The message is clear. Let leaders read and hear. Blind allegiance is gone, but vigorous support can be earned.

The citizenry are waiting, watching parliament today and tomorrow. But the silence must not be mistaken for infinite patience. The slow, indifferent breath of a nation can, in a moment, become the hurricane that reshapes the entire landscape.

Michael McAnuff-Jones is in pastoral ministry at Christian Life Fellowship, Jamaica. He is also an HR and OD leadership consultant, and managing consultant at Leadership Conservatory. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com