When politics falls into the gutter

2026-03-22 - 00:25

The recent remark by Dr Keith Rowley referring to Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissesar as a “jamette” speaks to a deeper and more troubling reality, the steady decline of political standards in Trinidad and Tobago. The term itself is not casual. Historically, “jamette” has been used to describe a woman of loose morals, someone cast outside the boundaries of so-called respectable society. Whether this was intended as a personal insult or a political jab, it reflects a level of discourse that should have no place in our politics. Under normal circumstances, this is not something I would choose to address. Our country is facing far more serious challenges, murders and kidnappings continue to spiral, families living in fear of home invasions, a relentless cost of living, deteriorating roads and communities left without a reliable water supply for months. These are the issues that should command the full attention of those elected to serve. Instead, attention is once again diverted to the decline in how we engage politically. This is not new. Over the last 16 years, we have witnessed a steady erosion of standards in our political culture. What once passed for spirited debate has been replaced by hostility, personal attacks and increasingly outright disrespect. Nowhere is this more visible than in our Parliament. What should be the highest forum of democratic debate has become a spectacle. Decorum has given way to disorder. Substance has been drowned out by shouting. The idea of political opponents, people who may disagree but still respect each other, has been replaced by something far more toxic: the treatment of colleagues as enemies to be torn down at all costs. There was a time when those who sat in Parliament, regardless of party, commanded a level of respect. They came prepared. They understood the issues. They spoke with purpose. They respected the office they held and the people they represented. That standard has not just slipped; it has collapsed. Parliamentary privilege, once intended to protect free and open debate, is now too often used as a shield for some of the most despicable allegations. Over the years, we have heard everything from crude insults like “zammie” and “small pin” to serious allegations of rape, human trafficking and threats of physical violence thrown across the floor with reckless abandon. And it does not stop at the Parliament doors. The rise of social media has amplified this behaviour. What begins in the Parliament quickly spills onto digital platforms, where supporters follow the tone set by their leaders. The result is an online environment saturated with hate, malice and relentless mudslinging. Never before has this level of hostility been so normalised. Even more concerning is that it is often rewarded. Those who are the most inflammatory and the most divisive are elevated, given platforms, positions of influence and in some cases, handed seats in Parliament. What message does that send to the country? As someone who is personally on the receiving end of false and damaging statements, I understand the real consequences of this toxic environment. It is not abstract. It affects reputations, families and livelihoods. I have had to turn to the courts to defend my name, and I will not hesitate to do so again. But this issue is not about defending one individual or condemning another. Let me be clear: while I strongly condemn the use of inflammatory and derogatory language, I am not here to defend anyone’s record. There have been instances on both sides where the language used has fallen far below the standard expected of national leaders. That, too, must be acknowledged. Because condemnation cannot be selective. We cannot choose outrage based on who is saying it and who it is directed at. We cannot condemn one instance while ignoring others. When we do that, we lose the moral authority to demand better. And so, this moment should not be used as another opportunity to score political points or deepen division. It should be a turning point, a chance to confront what our politics has become and decide whether we are prepared to accept it. Our young people are watching. They are learning from what they see. If the highest levels of leadership are defined by insults, hostility and disrespect, then we should not be surprised when that behaviour takes root in our classrooms. We cannot continue down this path. It is time to raise the standard. Time to return to a politics where ideas matter more than insults. Where debate is grounded in fact and where leadership is measured not by volume or vitriol, but by vision, integrity and service. Press the reset button. Bring back a politics where opponents are challenged, not dehumanised. Where Parliament is a place of purpose, not performance. Because if we allow this moment to pass without change, then the real disgrace will not be the words that were spoken; it will be what we chose to tolerate. Mickela Panday Political Leader of the Patriotic Front and Attorney at Law