Hit & Miss | The Accountability Gap
-Nydia Major
Election season in The Bahamas often called “silly season” reveals more about us as a people than it does about the parties themselves. While we point fingers at the Free National Movement (FNM), the Progressive Liberal Party (PLP), or even emerging voices like the Coalition of Independents (COI), the truth is this: the culture we see in leadership is often a reflection of the mindset we’ve accepted as a people.
We “hit” every rally, every neighborhood party, every giveaway, but we “miss” the moments that truly matter.
We don’t miss the free food, the drinks, the music, or the entertainment. We show up in numbers for paraphernalia, for colors, for vibes. But we miss the opportunity to ask real questions. We miss the chance to demand accountability. We miss the responsibility of making informed decisions that will shape the future of our nation.
Some claim loyalty to a party, others attend everything regardless of party allegiance, but this isn’t just about loyalty or even greed. It’s about mindset. A mindset that prioritizes short-term satisfaction over long-term national development.
During this critical time, instead of focusing on policies, plans, and progress, much of the conversation becomes centered around one question: “What can you do for me?” Not “How will this impact The Bahamas in the years to come?” This individualistic thinking has created a cycle "you for me, and me for you", rather than a unified vision for national growth.
And then we wonder why, once elected, leaders appear to only serve those within their circle or party. The uncomfortable truth is that this behavior mirrors what we, as a people, have normalized and, in some ways, rewarded.
We gather in large numbers, but not for town halls. Not for meaningful dialogue. Not to press leaders on healthcare, education, national security, or economic sustainability. Instead, we gather online for commentary filled with noise but lacking substance. And while our voices may be loud on social media, we must understand that they cannot live there alone. Our voices must be heard beyond posts and comment sections, they must show up in rooms where decisions are being made. They must be present in spaces where accountability can be demanded and change can be influenced.
We invest energy into tearing down opposing parties, digging up dirt, and creating division. This energy that if redirected, could build a stronger, more unified Bahamas.
It raises a difficult question: Do we truly want change?
Because change requires more than attendance, it requires accountability.
Why do we continue to support candidates who have repeatedly failed to deliver, simply out of tradition or loyalty? Why do we accept temporary benefits in exchange for long-term neglect? Why are we satisfied with seasonal gestures, events for our children, community giveaways etc. when these efforts are not sustained beyond election cycles?
This reflects a deeper issue: a mindset conditioned to accept handouts instead of demanding development. A people who are pacified in moments, rather than empowered for the future.
We must also confront the reality of misplaced priorities. During election season, vast sums are poured into rallies, merchandise, promotions and an excessive flood of campaign signage. Billboards crowd our roads. Posters pile on top of posters in every community, fighting for space and attention.
At some point, it’s no longer visibility, it’s overkill. It’s waste.
We see it. We drive past it daily. The overkill is undeniable.
And the question we must ask is simple: What is the real return on this investment, if any?
Because while all this is being spent to dominate public spaces with faces, slogans, and party colors, our hospitals continue to struggle with basic supplies. Beyond the capital, the gaps become even more alarming. On our family islands, clinics operate with limited resources, emergency transportation is often unreliable, and access to urgent care can become a matter of timing rather than treatment. Our schools in these communities continue to face shortages that quietly impact the next generation.
In Abaco and Grand Bahama, the effects of hurricane destruction still linger. Many families remain in need of affordable, sustainable housing, yet progress feels slow and, at times uncertain. Outside of the port areas in Grand Bahama, there are communities that fall directly under government responsibility. These spaces that should reflect intentional development but instead highlight missed opportunities to truly improve the lives of the people.
The imbalance is both evident and concerning.
Are we more committed to being seen than to actually serving? Are we more invested in winning perception than delivering progress? Even more concerning, have we as a people, become so conditioned to this display that we no longer question it?
Because real leadership should not have to rely on overwhelming visibility to prove its value. The work should speak. The results should stand. The impact should be evident long after the signs come down.
So the question becomes: where is our outrage? Where is our collective voice when it matters most?
Why do we only raise concerns when criticizing the opposing party, but remain silent when it comes to holding our own accountable?
And what about the systems we interact with every single day?
Will we challenge the public service sector to raise its standard?
To hire qualified, competent individuals not based on connections, but on capability. To build teams that reflect excellence, professionalism, and pride in service. Because too often, there is a widely accepted narrative: that once you enter the government system, the expectation lowers. We’ve all experienced it or heard it.
Long wait times. Poor communication. Minimal urgency. Attitudes that suggest inconvenience rather than service. A culture where low morale has become normalized, and in some cases, enabled.
But the real question is who is holding that system accountable?
Are employees being continually trained and developed?
Are there systems in place for evaluation, growth, and correction?
Are there consequences for poor performance or has complacency become comfortable?
Because accountability is not just for elected officials, it must exist at every level of service.
We cannot continue to accept substandard experiences in spaces that are meant to serve the public. The standard should not drop simply because it is government operated. If anything, it should be higher because it serves the people.
So when do we begin to challenge these systems?
When do we demand not just access, but excellence?
And even deeper, when do we challenge ourselves to reflect the same level of responsibility, discipline, and pride that we expect from those serving us?
Because systems don’t just fail people, people allow systems to remain broken.
And then there is the future of our nation; our young people.
Our students should never feel that the main pathway to success requires leaving home. Opportunity should not feel imported, it should be cultivated right here.
The Bahamas should be a place where education is not just available, but competitive. Where our colleges and institutions are so strong, so innovative, and so well-resourced that they attract students from across the region and beyond.
But instead, too many of our brightest minds leave… and never return.
Not because they don’t love home, but because they don’t see a future that matches their investment.
They study. They sacrifice. They earn their degrees. They gain exposure. They build capacity. And then they face a harsh reality: limited opportunities, inadequate compensation, and a system that too often prioritizes "who you know" over what you bring.
This “who you know” culture is one of the most damaging barriers to national development.
Because it discourages excellence. It sidelines merit. It frustrates those who have worked hard to qualify. And it creates environments where connections outweigh competence.
How do we expect progress if the most capable are overlooked?
How do we build a strong nation when talent is either underutilized or exported?
And how long will we continue to normalize a system that quietly tells our young people: your effort is not enough, your access is what matters?
That mindset is dangerous.
Because a country that does not create space for its own people to thrive will always struggle to move forward.
We cannot just encourage our young people to dream, we must build systems that allow those dreams to be realized right here at home.
The challenges facing The Bahamas are bigger than any one party.
They require a shift in mindset, a move from passive participation to active responsibility. We must become a people who ask hard questions, demand transparency, and expect results.
Our future depends on it.
Election season should not just be about rallies, memes, and momentary enjoyment. It should be a time of evaluation, reflection, and intentional decision-making. A time where we consider not just today, but tomorrow. Not just ourselves, but generations to come.
If we continue to “hit” the distractions and “miss” the responsibility, we cannot be surprised by the outcomes.
The Bahamas deserves better.
But first, we must demand better. And even deeper than that, we must be better.