Danielle Archer | Trust Is the spine of leadership — And Jamaica is moving like a body without one

Trust is not decorative. Trust is the spine of leadership. Without it, institutions cannot stand, systems cannot coordinate, and a nation cannot move with coherence or purpose. And nowhere is Jamaica’s spinal weakness more visible than in the small, daily indignities we have learned to accept without protest. 

Walk into a pharmacy or a supermarket. Select what you need. Pay your money. Collect your receipt. And then, at the exit, you are stopped and searched. Your bag is opened. Your belongings are inspected. Your integrity is quietly questioned. The insult is not only that it happens, but it is that we have become comfortable with it. We are treated like thieves in ordinary spaces where the only expectation should be a straightforward transaction.

There is an Akan proverb that warns, “If you carry a load long enough, you forget how heavy it is.” Jamaica has been carrying the load of suspicion for so long that we no longer feel its weight. We mistake it for culture. We mistake it as normal. We mistake it for the price of living and doing business here. And while we are told that “jobs are needed,” we must ask whether this is the best use of manpower, to station a security guard whose primary task is to watch you pay for an item, then stop you, ask for your receipt, and search your bag. This is not security; it is theatre. It is labour assigned to low-value, low-trust tasks that do nothing to build national capacity. Jamaica needs meaningful jobs, jobs that develop skills, strengthen industries, and contribute to growth. Not jobs that train workers to police dignity at the door of a pharmacy. A country cannot advance when its human capital is deployed to perform rituals of suspicion rather than functions of development.

I say this not as an observer but as a participant. I am that customer who refuses to be searched. I do not raise my voice. I do not create a scene. I simply decline, because my dignity is not something I negotiate at any pharmacy or supermarket. 

Every time I refuse, I am reminded that insisting on respect is not aggression, it is citizenship. If more of us drew that line, the culture would shift faster than any policy could. But citizens, too, must confront the part of this story that belongs to us. 

We are not only victims of mistrust; we are contributors to it. We cut corners. We “run a little link.” We normalise the small dishonesties that, over time, become cultural expectations. We laugh about beating the system, then act surprised when the system assumes we are trying to beat it.  People who excuse their own small dishonesties cannot be surprised when institutions mirror that expectation back at them. Perhaps that is why corruption no longer shocks us, why it barely stirs us to action, because on some level, we recognise in our leaders the very behaviours we have normalised in ourselves. If we want a country that trusts its citizens, we must become citizens who are worthy of trust.

Part of becoming worthy of trust is using the tools that already exist to hold power accountable. Jamaica is not without mechanisms. We are simply without the habit of using them. The Jamaica Accountability Meter Portal (JAMP) has built an entire civic infrastructure for public oversight: six tools already live, three more are in development, and it has launched two in the last month. Citizens can track their Members of Parliament, monitor procurement, follow legislation, examine the national budget, and measure government performance in real time. Through these trackers, we can scrutinise public bodies, monitor sectoral commitments, and even track the government’s response to crises such as Hurricane Melissa. These are not abstract instruments but practical levels of integrity. They allow every Jamaican to move from complaint to evidence, from suspicion to scrutiny, from frustration to informed action. A country that wants better leadership must use the tools that demand it. And yet, even with these available tools, the national numbness persists. We have lived with mistrust for so long that it has become the background noise of our public life. It is the same numbness that makes us accept corruption as a way of life. We expect it. We anticipate it. We assume that everyone, from the beggar to the contractor to the Cabinet, is operating with some hidden angle. And a society that expects corruption excuses it. 

Corruption did not become normal on its own. It became normal because leadership failed to model trustworthiness. When leaders behave as if accountability is optional, the country learns to lower its expectations. When leaders treat transparency as theatre, the public stops believing in the script. Leadership without trust becomes choreography.

This is why the bag search matters. It is not about retail policy. It is about the cultural message: we do not trust you. In our ordinary spaces, dignity is selective. The powerful are waved through; the rest are searched. Businesses have a legitimate interest in preventing loss. But they also have a responsibility to uphold dignity for all. They can strengthen their loss-prevention systems without criminalising every patron. They can invest in technology, redesign their floor operations, improve staff training, and adopt global best practices that do not rely on treating customers like suspects.  Integrity is not only a moral choice, but also an operational one. 

Citizens, too, must confront our role. We demand honesty in the wrong places and stay silent in the places where it matters. We demand accountability from the powerless but give the powerful a pass. We have forgotten that trust is not built by accident, but by insistence. This is the moment to insist. To insist that businesses stop treating paying customers like thieves. To insist that leaders earn trust rather than demand it.  To insist that integrity is not something we wait for but something we require. To insist that Jamaica remembers the weight of the load it has been carrying and finally puts it down. Trust is the spine of leadership. A nation cannot stand upright without it. Jamaica cannot rebuild better while its people are trained to shrink themselves at the door of a pharmacy or supermarket.

Danielle S. Archer is the former principal director of National Integrity Action, and an attorney at law. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com