The chorus of concern being raised across Trinidad and Tobago can no longer be dismissed as political mischief, opportunism, or the tired refrain of “yuh issa PNM.” The voices are too many, too diverse, and too distinguished.
From the penetrating reflections of columist Mickela Panday in “The Cost of Silence,” to comrade Rae Samuel’s powerful fable likening sections of the labour movement to camels who have abandoned the herd in exchange for comfort and privilege; from Helen Drayton’s caution that “a line may have been crossed,” to the thoughtful interventions of Sunity Maharaj; from the concerns publicly expressed by the Law Association of Trinidad and Tobago regarding the establishment of no-protest zones, to 13 trade union leaders physically delivering a letter to the Honourable Prime Minister seeking dialogue on matters affecting fundamental rights, there is an undeniable reality confronting this nation.
Yet, upon acknowledging receipt of that letter in Parliament, the dismissive reference to “these people” spoke volumes.
It revealed not merely a growing disconnect between the governing class and organised labour, but perhaps a deeper erosion of respect for dissent itself.
Trinidad and Tobago finds itself at one of the lowest points in recent history where public trust is concerned. Confidence in institutions continues to diminish. Sycophancy has flourished while principled criticism is increasingly branded as political treachery. The new road march whenever legitimate concerns are raised appears to be: “Yuh issa PNM, PNM, PNM”
Constructive criticism is no longer met with engagement, but with labels of dissent.
Ironically, many who now defend these excesses once denounced similar conduct as hypocrisy while in opposition. The Prime Minister herself forcefully criticised the Sedition Act, warning against its dangers and implications. Today, however, many citizens believe that State’s power is being utilised in ways that seek to intimidate, silence, or weaponise public opinion against dissenters, people didn’t vote for that!
History teaches us that labour movements decline not when governments attack them, but when labour leaders voluntarily surrender their independence. Are we seeing this?
Comrade Rae Samuel’s camel analogy is therefore particularly apt. The labour movement is indeed populated by camels—or former camels—who have abandoned the herd. Some now sit comfortably in Cabinet, on State boards, advisory committees and commissions. They are most visible at ceremonies, launches and official functions, adorned with all the trappings of office.
Rae further intimated, as Malcolm X warned, “The house slave defended the master more than the master defended himself.”
There is nothing new about this phenomenon. Before this generation, there were Vernon Glean, Carl Tull, St Elmo Gopaul and James Manswell, all of whom entered political office. Yet, history records that militant, progressive labour movements eventually rejected accommodation at the expense of principle.
That same judgement of history awaits this present crop.
There was a notable absence of some trade unions in Fyzabad at Labour Day 2026, which we believe should have been a sacred reaffirmation of struggle. Instead, for many workers/leaders, the anticipated and realised spectacle of labour leaders locking arms in a ceremonial procession signifying unity and camaraderie with political figures, including a Minister of Finance who presides over unresolved obligations to workers, was deeply troubling.
The noticeable absence of several trade union leaders from that choreographed continuation campaign and political theatre was itself instructive. They were present, but refused to be a part of the spectacle.
It suggested that some still understand that solidarity is not symbolism.
Solidarity means independence.
Solidarity means speaking truth to power.
Solidarity means defending workers at all cost, irrespective of who occupies Whitehall.
Now, one is therefore compelled to ask:
Does solidarity still have meaning?
Has consciousness been compromised?
Does dissent now automatically make one an enemy of the umbrella movement and the Government?
History reminds us that labour has always had to challenge its own.
Tubal “Buzz” Butler had to move beyond Captain Arthur Andrew Cipriani.
George Weekes had to confront and displace John Rojas.
Teachers and public servants rejected Manswell, Gopaul and Father Gerard Farfan.
Lyle Townsend and his contemporaries sent Carl Tull on his way.
Progress within labour has never come through silence.
Today, while there are allegations of workers facing relocation at T&TEC, reports of workers within corporations not being paid and mounting industrial unrest and uncertainty throughout the public sector, there remains a deafening silence from some of those who possess the greatest influence.
To what end?
And while many may understand why such silence exists, the more important question is whether those reasons are sufficient to justify muteness in the midst of injustice.
Labour in government means something.
At least it should normally.
But is there truly labour representation, or merely representatives who once came from labour?
Consider TSTT. Industrial relations continue to deteriorate there. The human resources and industrial relations climate is at an all-time low. Workers continue to await settlement of negotiations outstanding since 2019. Political appointments, friendship-based advancement at senior levels, remuneration disconnected from workers’ realities, and unresolved grievances continue to plague the organisation.
TSTT falls under the purview of the Ministry of Public Utilities. Meetings have reportedly occurred with entities such as WASA and TTPost, yet TSTT workers remain waiting and watching!
The working class notices.
The country notices.
The people are watching.
Labour must never allow itself to be prostituted, reduced to ceremonial pageantry, or used as a charade by any government, regardless of political colour. Our first duty remains unchanged: to protect workers, defend rights and stand unapologetically against injustice.
And so, to those representatives of labour who now occupy seats in the August House, clothed in three-piece suits and travelling in tax-exempted vehicles, one simple question must be asked: If you were not sitting in those privileged seats today, what would your position as trade unionists be on the very issues confronting this nation?
History will record the answer.
And history will not be kind.
“When labour exchanges principle for privilege, it ceases to be a movement and becomes an accessory to oppression. The workers never forget who stood with them, who remained silent, and who chose comfort over courage.”
