The Tribune

By IVOINE INGRAHAM

THERE is a quiet, creeping rot that settles into a nation. Not through a single catastrophic event, but through a thousand daily concessions. It’s the root of the "comfortable route": the choice to look the other way when a neighbour breaks the law; to stay silent when a colleague games the system; and to ask for a "favour" from a cousin in high places, rather than facing the consequences of our own actions.

We are a nation of "who you know" in a world that increasingly demands "what is right." As Bahamians, we take pride in our "face-to-face" culture, our warmth, and our interconnectedness. But that very interconnectedness has become our Achilles' heel. Our lack of courage to speak truth to power—and truth to each other—has traded our national excellence for a mounting, messy mediocrity.

If we do not find the collective guts to prioritize the law over our comfort, we are not just witnessing the erosion of our country, we are wielding the shovels that dig the grave.

The hypocrisy of the 30-minute flight

The most damning evidence of our selective discipline is found at Lynden Pindling International Airport. We watch a Bahamian board a flight to Miami and the moment they touch down at MIA—a mere 30 minutes or so later--a transformation occurs that would baffle sociologists if it weren't so tragic:In Florida, that same Bahamian becomes a model citizen. They buckle their seatbelt before the engine turns over. They wouldn't dream of parking across a stranger's driveway or leaving their car on a sidewalk for two weeks.

They know that, in a civilized society, the law is an impersonal, immovable force. They know that if they park illegally, the tow truck is already on its way. They drive with "due care and attention" because they respect the consequences.

Yet, upon returning to 242 soil, that same individual reverts to a state of lawless entitlement. They park anywhere, drive with a cell phone glued to their ear, and treat stop signs like mere suggestions. Why? Because they know the system is soft. They know that if a police officer pulls them over, they can lead with, "Officer, you know who my daddy is?" or "Man, give me a break this one time." This is the "special consideration" trap. We want the law applied strictly to the "other guy"—the one blocking traffic or the one loud at night—but when it’s our turn to be held accountable, we want an exemption.

We have traded the rule of law for the rule of the "hook-up."

The war zone on our roads

Nowhere is our lack of courage more visible—and more lethal—than on our streets. The road has become a war zone where the bully reigns supreme. We watch as jitneys and private cars alike adopt the worst habits of foreign jurisdictions, driving with a reckless disregard for human life. We see motorcyclists performing daredevil stunts on one wheel in heavy traffic, threatening not just their own lives but those of every father, mother, and child sharing the asphalt.

And what do we do? We stay timid. We stop for the bully because we don't want the confrontation. The police see the infant unrestrained in the front seat—a tragedy waiting to happen—and instead of a heavy fine that might save that child's life, they give a "warning" and a smile.

This isn't kindness. It’s a lack of courage.

It’s the refusal to do the hard work of enforcement because it's "too much trouble" or because the offender might be someone's sweetheart or lodge brother. When the regulatory bodies allow a building to be constructed inches from a sidewalk because the owner has "connections," they are not being helpful; they are being corrupt. They are stealing public space and public safety to appease a single ego.

The death of the peaceful night

Our cowardice follows us home. We lie awake at 3:00 AM, the walls vibrating from a neighbour's DJ blasting foul language that no child should hear. We are tired. "Grammy" can't sleep; the baby is crying. Yet, we hesitate to approach the neighbour. We fear the boisterous response. We call the police, only to be met with disgust, as if we are the nuisance for wanting the peace we pay taxes for.

This acceptance of the "norm" is how a society dies. We have accepted that roadside mechanics can turn residential neighbourhoods into stripped-car graveyards. We have accepted that people can dump garbage in the bushes and then blame the MP for being "nasty," when the mirror shows the real culprit.

We see the vendor outside the school gate selling sugar-laden poison to our children, undoing the health policies designed to protect the next generation. We stay silent because "the woman gotta make a living."

But what of the teacher who must manage the "sugar spike" in the classroom? What is the long-term cost to our healthcare system? By refusing to say "no" to the vendor, we are saying "yes" to the deterioration of our children's futures.

The ghost workers and the productivity drain

The rot extends into our offices, particularly within the public service. We all know the "ghost workers"—those who arrive late, spend two hours at "breakfast," leave early for lunch, pick up the kids, and disappear before the clock strikes four. They are the first to call in sick, but the loudest to demand their "banking time."

Their hard-working colleagues see it. The supervisors see it. But the "hard question" is never asked. To report them is to be a "snitch" or "vibe-killer." So, the productive few carry the weight of the lazy many, and the system slows to a crawl.

This lack of professional courage ensures that our government services remain mediocre while the cost of living continues to rise. We are paying for work that isn't done because we are too afraid to demand accountability.

The path forward: choosing the hard right

The "comfortable route" is a dead end. It leads to a country where nothing works, where the bold bully the weak, and where our children grow up believing that the only way to get ahead is to find a loophole.

If we want a better country—a civilized Bahamas with great living conditions—we must find the guts to be unpopular.

• Courage is the police officer who issues the ticket to the VIP's daughter because the law is blind.
• Courage is the neighbour who firmly demands silence at midnight.
• Courage is the supervisor who docks the employee's pay for refusing to work.
• Courage is the citizen who says, "I messed up, I'll pay the fine," instead of looking for a phone number to call.

We must stop being a "face-to-face" society when it comes to justice and start being a "heart-to-heart" society when it comes to national pride. The law isn't a suggestion. It’s the floor upon which we build a civilization.

It’ll hurt. It’ll be uncomfortable. You’ll be called names. You might even lose a "friend" who was only using you for your influence anyway.

But the alternative is the continued erosion of the land we claim to love. Let’s agree to be part of the solution. Let’s find the courage to speak, to act, and to hold the line.

The Bahamas is worth the discomfort of being right.