Dr Varma Deyalsingh
On Republic Day, I found myself reflecting not only on our independence, but also on the achievements that have made me proud to call Trinidad and Tobago home—like the victories of Keshorn Walcott, Jereem Richards, and the Trinbago Knight Riders. These triumphs came at a moment when I needed a renewed sense of national pride.
But this pride has been tempered by growing disappointment. In the weeks leading up to Republic Day, serious allegations of corruption and nepotism—levelled by members of the current administration against some of the previous regime’s key players—left me despondent.
As a young Republic, I had hoped that by now, our political leaders would have used their platforms to showcase us as a small yet successful nation. With three oil booms behind us, we had every reason—and every resource—to be a global success story. But instead, we’ve been weighed down by corruption, nepotism, and partisan politics. These have become an albatross around our national neck.
I have seen the poverty, the injustice, and heard the desperate cries of those struggling to survive. Today, our nation sits in significant debt—debt that can be traced directly to decades of political mismanagement.
What disturbed me most about the recent corruption allegations wasn’t the idea that such things might happen—corruption, unfortunately, is often a feature of politics—but the identities of those accused. I had hoped they would be above greed. I thought I was a good judge of character.
The global story is not much different. Across continents, we see democracies crumbling under the weight of what political scientist Francis Fukuyama calls political decay. In his landmark 1992 work, The End of History and the Last Man, Fukuyama famously argued that Western liberal democracy had triumphed as the “final form of human government.” But history has since proven otherwise.
The rise of China as a superpower without embracing liberal democracy, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, and the global resurgence of authoritarianism have all challenged that theory. China’s mix of authoritarian governance and state-led capitalism has emerged as a serious alternative to the liberal democratic model. Meanwhile, democratic backsliding is evident across the world through rising populism, weakened institutions, and eroding public trust.
In his later work, Political Order and Political Decay, Fukuyama warns that democracy, if not backed by strong institutions, can falter. It decays not through revolutions, but through slow institutional stagnation—via patronage, corruption, and loss of public faith. A system of government that once promised progress becomes paralysed by gridlock and self-interest.
In Trinidad and Tobago, we are seeing signs of this decay. Bureaucratic inefficiency, a lack of transparency, and widespread distrust in public institutions are clear indicators that something is fundamentally broken. When political loyalty trumps merit and governance becomes more about partisan allegiance than public service, institutions fail.
This is why I took comfort in Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar’s Republic Day message, in which she acknowledged the deep flaws in our Republican Constitution. She noted that since 1976, excessive power has been concentrated in the hands of the prime minister, while supposedly independent institutions remain weakened by partisan appointments.
She reminded the nation that key reforms—like the Freedom of Information Act, Judicial Review Act, Equal Opportunity Act, and procurement reforms—were all United National Congress initiatives designed to increase transparency and accountability. Her commendable call to renew the independence of our state institutions is one that deserves serious consideration.
Becoming a strong Republic is not merely about celebrating independence; it is about building resilient, merit-based institutions that serve the people. Where institutions are strong, corruption is minimised, and every citizen feels represented and respected—regardless of race, class, or political affiliation.
When institutions fail, and when corruption becomes normalised, democratic legitimacy erodes. Political decay sets in—not with loud announcements, but through quiet compromises, lowered expectations, and broken promises.
As a nation, we must demand better—not just from politicians, but from ourselves. We must insist on transparency, fairness, and a public service culture built on merit and professionalism.
Only then can our Republic truly live up to the ideals upon which it was founded.
