There are mo­ments in a na­tion’s life when po­lit­i­cal con­duct tests the strength of its democ­ra­cy. Trinidad and To­ba­go is now liv­ing through one of those mo­ments. What be­gan as a leg­isla­tive de­bate has evolved in­to a con­sti­tu­tion­al cri­sis, not be­cause a bill failed, but be­cause of how the Prime Min­is­ter chose to re­spond to that fail­ure.

Fol­low­ing the de­feat of the Zone of Spe­cial Op­er­a­tions Bill in the Sen­ate, Prime Min­is­ter Kam­la Per­sad-Bisses­sar pub­licly al­leged that two In­de­pen­dent Sen­a­tors had sought “per­son­al favours” in ex­change for their sup­port for the leg­is­la­tion. This was not a ca­su­al re­mark or po­lit­i­cal rhetoric. It was a di­rect ac­cu­sa­tion of cor­rup­tion at the heart of Par­lia­ment, an al­le­ga­tion that, if true, sug­gests at­tempt­ed bribery with­in the leg­isla­tive process it­self.

Such a claim de­mands im­me­di­ate trans­paren­cy, ev­i­dence and for­mal in­ves­ti­ga­tion. Yet, there was no post-Cab­i­net press con­fer­ence to ex­plain the mat­ter. No state­ment in Par­lia­ment lay­ing out the facts. No re­fer­ral to the In­tegri­ty Com­mis­sion with names and de­tails. Just a pub­lic ac­cu­sa­tion left hang­ing over the Sen­ate and the na­tion.

This ap­proach is dan­ger­ous.

Rather than al­low­ing se­ri­ous al­le­ga­tions to be test­ed by law, the Prime Min­is­ter placed them in­to the court of pub­lic opin­ion, where sus­pi­cion grows, but truth is nev­er es­tab­lished. By re­fus­ing to pro­vide par­tic­u­lars, she ef­fec­tive­ly en­sured that no au­thor­i­ty could prop­er­ly in­ves­ti­gate the mat­ter, while rep­u­ta­tions and in­sti­tu­tions suf­fered in the process.

At mo­ments like this, lead­er­ship should strength­en de­mo­c­ra­t­ic struc­tures, not weak­en them. If any­thing pos­i­tive could have emerged from the con­tro­ver­sy sur­round­ing the ZOSO Bill, it should have been a com­mit­ment to con­sti­tu­tion­al re­form. In­stead of es­ca­lat­ing ac­cu­sa­tions through so­cial me­dia and pub­lic com­men­tary, the Prime Min­is­ter should place mean­ing­ful re­form on the leg­isla­tive agen­da. But that did not hap­pen.

In­stead, pub­lic de­bate has been dom­i­nat­ed by unan­swered ques­tions.

If the Prime Min­is­ter gen­uine­ly be­lieves that two sen­a­tors at­tempt­ed to trade their votes for per­son­al ben­e­fit, why has she re­fused to name them? Why has she not pre­sent­ed ev­i­dence to the ap­pro­pri­ate au­thor­i­ties? Why has the coun­try been left with im­pli­ca­tion in­stead of in­ves­ti­ga­tion?

Her re­fusal to dis­close the iden­ti­ties of those she ac­cus­es fun­da­men­tal­ly un­der­mines ac­count­abil­i­ty. With­out names, the In­tegri­ty Com­mis­sion can­not act. With­out ev­i­dence, due process can­not func­tion. And with­out clar­i­ty, pub­lic trust con­tin­ues to erode.

This is not how a democ­ra­cy han­dles al­le­ga­tions of cor­rup­tion.

In any func­tion­ing sys­tem gov­erned by the rule of law, se­ri­ous claims are fol­lowed by for­mal com­plaints, trans­par­ent pro­ce­dures and in­de­pen­dent in­quiry. What we are wit­ness­ing in­stead is ac­cu­sa­tion with­out con­se­quence, a sit­u­a­tion that dam­ages in­sti­tu­tions while re­solv­ing noth­ing.

When lead­ers make claims of wrong­do­ing but refuse to sub­mit them to scruti­ny, it sends a mes­sage that pow­er can be used to ac­cuse with­out re­spon­si­bil­i­ty. It teach­es the pub­lic that al­le­ga­tions may be po­lit­i­cal tools rather than mat­ters of jus­tice. And it cre­ates fear among those who serve in pub­lic of­fice, know­ing that their rep­u­ta­tions can be placed un­der sus­pi­cion with no av­enue for res­o­lu­tion.

Equal­ly trou­bling is the tim­ing of the Prime Min­is­ter’s state­ments. The al­le­ga­tions sur­faced on­ly af­ter the bill failed in the Sen­ate. If, as she claims, the in­tegri­ty of the leg­isla­tive process had al­ready been com­pro­mised, why was the mat­ter not raised im­me­di­ate­ly? Why was the vote al­lowed to pro­ceed at all?

This con­tro­ver­sy is no longer about one piece of leg­is­la­tion. It is about the stan­dard of gov­er­nance be­ing set in Trinidad and To­ba­go.

A coun­try can­not func­tion when se­ri­ous ac­cu­sa­tions are made with­out ev­i­dence, when in­sti­tu­tions are weak­ened by im­pli­ca­tion, and when trans­paren­cy is re­placed with si­lence. Democ­ra­cies re­ly on trust. Trust that lead­ers will act re­spon­si­bly, that al­le­ga­tions will be prop­er­ly in­ves­ti­gat­ed and that the rule of law ap­plies to every­one.

Right now, that trust is be­ing steadi­ly de­stroyed.

When no ac­tion fol­lows claims of cor­rup­tion at the high­est lev­els of pow­er, con­fi­dence in the Sen­ate col­laps­es. Con­fi­dence in Par­lia­ment col­laps­es. And con­fi­dence in lead­er­ship col­laps­es with it.

Equal­ly wor­ry­ing is what this sig­nals for the fu­ture.

If a Prime Min­is­ter can pub­licly ac­cuse in­di­vid­u­als of se­ri­ous wrong­do­ing and then refuse to sub­stan­ti­ate those claims, what pro­tec­tion re­mains for any­one who chal­lenges her or her Gov­ern­ment? What stops al­le­ga­tions from be­com­ing weapons used to in­tim­i­date dis­sent, si­lence op­po­si­tion, or dis­cred­it in­de­pen­dent voic­es?

This is how de­mo­c­ra­t­ic ero­sion be­gins, not with one dra­mat­ic act, but with the slow nor­mal­i­sa­tion of un­ac­count­able pow­er.

This mo­ment will de­fine the stan­dard of gov­er­nance in Trinidad and To­ba­go for years to come. If ac­cu­sa­tions can be made with­out ev­i­dence, if in­sti­tu­tions can be weak­ened by im­pli­ca­tion and if si­lence can re­place ac­count­abil­i­ty, then no cit­i­zen, whether in pub­lic of­fice or pri­vate life, is tru­ly pro­tect­ed from the abuse of pow­er.

What is at stake is not one bill or one po­lit­i­cal con­tro­ver­sy. What is at stake is the sur­vival of de­mo­c­ra­t­ic norms them­selves.

A democ­ra­cy can­not sur­vive on in­sin­u­a­tion. It can­not func­tion on fear. And it can­not en­dure when those in pow­er are not bound by the same rules as every­one else.

Mick­ela Pan­day

Po­lit­i­cal Leader of the Pa­tri­ot­ic Front and At­tor­ney at Law