After a modest amount of empirical research, I have officially concluded that I am a Vincentian social media influencer.
My proof? A recent opinion piece I penned garnered a staggering 18 likes, 17 comments, and 9 shares on a local news platform. In our political landscape, where national policy is routinely adjusted in response to three noisy Facebook posts and a heated talk-radio caller, those metrics make me a virtual titan of public intellectual thought. In the true spirit of modern governance, we have meticulously constructed a political ecosystem where the shrill declarations of a tiny online minority drown out the heavy silence of the thousands who actually turn up on polling day.
If you were to ask our former Prime Minister how often he heard the comforting refrain, “Yes, Prime Minister,” to every grand policy floated from on high, he would likely admit, if caught in a rare moment of unvarnished reflection, that he heard it far more often than not. What his echoing chamber of sycophants failed to transmit, however, was the roaring silence of 10,000 voters who ultimately stood at the ballot box and shouted: “NO, Prime Minister. Go back to the drawing board!”
Our new administration, swept into power by that very same landslide of previously silent voters, must urgently ask itself: What are we failing to hear?
Because if they listen closely, the silence is already deafening.
For starters, we have yet to hear the thunderous national applause when Ministers post crucial state announcements exclusively on their personal Facebook profiles, forcing John Public to algorithmically stalk elected officials just to find out what our government is doing. Nor are the streets outside constituency offices lined with citizens dancing in unbridled joy because a party office has magically become the registration center for seasonal road work. And what a masterclass that road work program is! Trimmed so efficiently from ten days to five that if a stretch of road needed a fortnight’s clearing, half of it has remained overgrown since last September, indeed, this change stands as a proud, green monument to fiscal prudence.
Furthermore, the silent majority felt no sudden burst of patriotic warmth when VINLEC rolled out successive fuel surcharge increases, transforming the simple luxury of turning on a light bulb to drink evening tea with five Crix biscuits into an elite financial pursuit.
And while long-time party faithful, devoted family members, and vocal cheerleaders take their rightful seats on statutory boards to collect their Director’s fees and harmonize on a fresh chorus of “Yes, Prime Minister,” the vast, silent electorate sit in the peripheries watching and waiting.
Granted, we can all acknowledge that the previous administration left the national purse resembling the widow’s mite, just big enough to hold two five-cent pieces. However, the more than 35,000 citizens who voted this government into office did not do so under the impression that they alone must “band their bellies,” while listening to lectures on fiscal discipline delivered from the comfortable perches of plush allowances and state perks. If I were not mistaken, and as a mere 18-like influencer, I could well be, this looks suspiciously like a case of full belly telling hungry belly, “Keep heart.”
Let’s be clear: if the public wanted to tighten their belts while watching political elites thrive, they could have simply kept the old government! A populace that eventually lost patience after 25 years will certainly not wait another quarter-century to demand better.
It is high time to balance the voices in the room. For every eager courtier lining up to whisper, “Yes, Prime Minister,” there must be an independent voice with the spine to say: “No, Prime Minister. Think that over and come again.”
If our recent political history has taught us anything, it is that a quiet electorate is not a contented electorate. So, as the silence around the Cabinet table becomes deafening, will this government think it is being cheered on, or will it only notice the quiet when it turns into the silence of an empty polling station?
But what do I know? I am, after all, just an ordinary man.
