The Tribune

By IVOINE INGRAHAM

A MONSTER is slowly devouring our nation. It does not roar, breathe fire, or announce its arrival. It operates quietly, infiltrating our workplaces, government offices, classrooms, construction sites, courtrooms, and even our homes. It has become so familiar that many of us no longer recognise its presence. Worse still, some have embraced it as a perfectly acceptable way of life.

That monster is called “mediocrity.”

Unless we summon the courage to confront and defeat it, mediocrity will continue to rob The Bahamas of its possibilities, undermine our international reputation, and deprive future generations of the prosperous country they deserve.

I firmly believe that if we combine our best efforts, rediscover our national pride, and require excellence from ourselves and one another, we can slay this monster. But first, we must acknowledge an unpleasant truth: we have let standards deteriorate, and far too many of us have become comfortable doing just enough to get by.

There was a time when Bahamians took enormous pride in their work, appearance, manners, and reputation. We understood that excellence proved not simply something to be discussed; it was something to be demonstrated.

Our hospitality became internationally recognised. Visitors returned to our shores because of our people's warmth, courtesy, and genuine friendliness. Our good manners were not manufactured for tourists. They were part of our upbringing, reinforced in our homes, churches, schools, and communities.

We were taught to respect our elders, honour our commitments, arrive on time, and give an honest day's work for an honest day's pay.

Today, however, one must ask: what has happened to that Bahamian pride?

Have we become so accustomed to mediocrity that we no longer recognise excellence? Have we surrendered our competitive edge, then complained when employers turn to workers from other countries who seem more willing to meet expectations?

These are uncomfortable questions, but we must ask them.

The eight-hour workday that never was

Consider the daily routine in some government departments and private workplaces:

The official workday begins at nine o'clock, but for certain employees, that apparently means 9:30 or 10. When they arrive, they eat breakfast, enjoy coffee, and read the morning newspaper, or scroll through social media.

Then comes the important business of catching up on yesterday's gossip.

Who said what? Who is dating whom? Who received a promotion? Who has fallen out of favour with the boss?

Eventually, perhaps around 11:00, the employee reluctantly settles down to do the work the public or employer is paying for. But there’s a problem.

Lunch is approaching.

By 11:30, preparations begin for the midday escape. Work slows, conversations increase, and attention turns to where they'll buy lunch. Although the official lunch period may be one hour, some employees disappear for considerably longer.

When they return, they bring lunch back to the office and spend another 30 minutes eating what should have been consumed during the lunch break.

Then comes the afternoon lethargy. They do a little work, usually just enough to create the impression of productivity. Before long, attention turns to preparing for departure.

By 4:00, handbags are packed, computers are shut down, and employees watch the clock. Yet should payday arrive 24 hours late, some of these very individuals become outraged. 

But where is the corresponding outrage over the hours of work never performed?

Where is the accountability?

Allow me to be absolutely clear: this criticism is not directed at every civil servant. Many public officers are dedicated professionals who arrive early, work through lunch, remain beyond closing time, and sometimes sacrifice personal and family commitments to serve the Bahamian people.

But their devotion should not excuse those who consistently abuse the system. A salary is not an entitlement to be collected without corresponding service. It is compensation for work honestly performed.

The legal profession must not escape scrutiny

One profession has largely escaped sustained public examination: the legal fraternity.

For generations, attorneys occupied a special position of public trust. They were expected to show exceptional honesty, diligence, professionalism, and respect for the administration of justice. That expectation must never disappear.

Yet troubling complaints have long persisted about attorneys who accept retainers, fail to communicate with clients, neglect matters, or do not appear in court when expected.

Allegations also involve lawyers who accept commitments from multiple clients for proceedings scheduled at the same time, without making adequate arrangements to fulfil those obligations.

When this happens, the consequences can be devastating. A person may have borrowed money, sacrificed savings, or sought assistance from relatives to secure legal representation. That person enters the courtroom expecting an attorney to appear. Instead, the lawyer is nowhere to be found.

The client is embarrassed, the proceedings may be delayed, and confidence in the justice system suffers. Surely this cannot be acceptable.

If a tradesman collects payment for work and deliberately fails to provide the promised service, the customer may seek legal remedies, and dishonest conduct may, depending on the circumstances, raise criminal questions.

Why should attorneys be treated differently?

I am not suggesting that each missed appearance constitutes dishonesty or that every professional dispute amounts to a criminal offence. Lawyers, like other professionals, encounter emergencies, calendar conflicts, and circumstances beyond their control.

But repeated neglect, deliberate deception, and the improper handling of clients' money must attract meaningful consequences.

The public also deserves protection against unethical solicitation of accident victims and other vulnerable individuals, commonly described as “ambulance chasing.” Where professional rules prohibit such behaviour, they must be enforced. The legal profession cannot demand respect while appearing unwilling to confront misconduct within its own ranks. Disciplinary procedures must be accessible, transparent, fair, and effective. Complaints should be investigated promptly, and substantiated wrongdoing should result in proportionate sanctions.

There are, unquestionably, countless Bahamian attorneys of outstanding integrity who serve their clients faithfully, protect constitutional rights, and preserve the highest traditions of their profession. They, too, suffer when misconduct goes unchecked. An honourable profession should never sacrifice its reputation to protect its dishonourable members.

Our classrooms and the future of the nation

Perhaps nowhere is mediocrity more dangerous than in education. Teachers are entrusted with something more valuable than buildings, vehicles, or money. They are entrusted with our children.

Yet worries persist about educators who seem more interested in the dismissal bell than in whether their students have actually learned. A teacher who spends the school day merely supervising a classroom, rather than actively teaching, does an injustice to every child present. The consequences may not become apparent immediately.

They emerge years later when young adults enter the workforce unable to communicate effectively, solve basic problems, demonstrate discipline, or meet reasonable workplace expectations.

A “D Average” should be a serious reason for teachers to hang their heads in shame that a student in their care for several years cannot fill out an application. A 16 or 17-year-old should be able to find the subject and predicate in a sentence and should be able to say how many weeks are in a year. Someone must have at least one ounce of pride in their profession. At least show that you deserve the salary increases they so aggressively got. And then society wonders why employers complain about the quality of available labour.

It’s particularly troubling when those who consistently neglect their responsibilities are nevertheless among the loudest voices demanding improved employment benefits.

To my best recollection, in the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s, the teachers were more dedicated, got better results, didn't leave their jobs and didn't abandon the classroom. There was no “D” average then.

Let there be no misunderstanding: teachers have every right to organise, advocate for equitable remuneration, and protest legitimate grievances. Industrial action is not, by itself, evidence of poor professional conduct.

However, professional rights must coexist with professional responsibilities. A teacher who demands respect must also demonstrate respect for the sacred responsibility of educating children.

It’s time to slay the monster

We cannot legislate pride. We cannot negotiate integrity through collective bargaining. And we cannot build a prosperous nation upon a foundation of excuses.

We can restore expectations.

Parents must teach children that responsibility matters. Schools must reward genuine achievement. Employers must recognise merit and confront persistent underperformance. Professional organisations must enforce ethical standards. Government departments must measure service delivery and hold employees, including senior officials, accountable.

Most importantly, each of us must examine our own conduct.

Do we arrive on time?

Do we keep our promises?

Do we give our best effort when nobody is watching?

Do we treat customers, colleagues, and members of the public with respect?

Or have we become part of the very problem we complain about?

We cannot continue surrendering our standards and then lamenting the disappearance of opportunities. We cannot demand first-class wages while delivering third-class service.

We cannot celebrate national pride on Independence Day and abandon it the next morning when we report for duty.

Mediocrity is not simply an inconvenience. It steals our productivity, our opportunities, our reputation, and ultimately our children's future. The monster has already consumed too much.

It’s time for Bahamians, in every profession and at every level of society, to unite in a renewed devotion to excellence.

Not tomorrow.

Not after another committee meeting.

Not when someone else decides to lead.

Today.

Because if we don’t kill the monster called mediocrity, we may eventually discover that it has devoured the very country we claim to love.