By Marlon Bute
By the morning after the 2025 general election, the country felt different.
There was an unmistakable lightness in the air. There was a full day of celebration where it culminated at Heritage Square in one big cacophony of sounds and a jubilation that surpassed all earlier election outcomes. By the second morning, however, the motorcades had quieted, the flags had begun to disappear, and the chants that had echoed through villages and towns and pretty much in every nook and cranny in this multi-island state, gave way to something less audible but no less powerful, expectation.
“Change has come. Hallelujah.”
For many Vincentians, those words were not simply a campaign refrain. They captured years of hope, frustration, disappointment, and perseverance. They reflected the belief that a new chapter in our national life had finally begun.
The road to that moment had been long. It had been 25 years, a quarter century during which some had suffered at the hands of the state while others had latched on to its nipples with all teeth.
After the New Democratic Party’s defeat in 2001, following the political upheaval surrounding the ULP manufactured roadblock protests, which had cut the NDP’s fourth consecutive term in two, many questioned whether the party would ever again become a credible alternative government. Yet Arnhim Eustace, a distinguished economist, unrelenting ethicist, known and respected for his disciplined and focused approach to governance had quietly and methodically rebuilt a party that hadbeen broken. And were it not for the measure of the man, fondly referred to as Mr. Clean, the NDP will not be where it is today. He persevered against a formidable political opponent in Dr. Ralph Gonsalves, whose political instincts and political acuity few would dispute. Arnhim Eustace steadily restored the party’s credibility and expanded its support.
He did not undertake that task alone. Around him gathered men and women who refused to allow the party to drift into political irrelevance. Among them were the man who is today Prime Minister, Dr. Godwin Friday; the present Deputy Prime Minister, Major St. Clair Leacock; Patel Matthews; Daniel Cummings, Terrance Ollivierre; Nigel Stephenson; and many other faithful stalwarts who traversed the length and breadth of this country carrying a message of hope when electoral victory seemed a distant prospect. Together they endured defeat, absorbed disappointment, and patiently rebuilt public confidence until the New Democratic Party once again became a government in waiting.
When Mr. Eustace eventually passed the baton, he did not hand over a defeated organisation. He handed over a disciplined movement whose foundation had been strengthened under his stewardship. The victory that followed was therefore not simply the triumph of one campaign. It was the culmination of years of patient work by many hands.
It also produced extraordinary expectations.
People voted for varied reasons. Some hoped for stronger economic management and a path out of the country’s debt burden. Others longed for greater opportunities to create wealth for themselves and their families. Some expected renewed confidence in public institutions like the healthcare sector, finance, the DPP’s office, public works and so on. In fact, one of the NDP’s mantras as enunciated by Arnhim and its other leaders, was the need for forensic audits of state institutions. Others simply believed that after a quarter of a century under one administration, a different philosophy of governance would naturally produce a different rhythm in the affairs of the State.
Whether every expectation was realistic is another matter. Expectations seldom are. But they were real, and they formed part of one of the most decisive electoral mandates in our history.
It is therefore understandable that many Vincentians expected change to extend beyond the Cabinet room. In countless conversations, one question has surfaced repeatedly: if the people voted so overwhelmingly for change, how deep should that change be?
Before I go any further, I should say something about my own position.
I have my political views. I have never hidden them, nor do I intend to. But neither am I so partisan that I believe institutions should be weakened simply because governments change. Quite the opposite. My hope has always been for a St. Vincent and the Grenadines where our institutions are stronger than our politics; where healthcare inspires confidence, where sound financial management promotes stability, where public administration is efficient, where law enforcement commands public respect, and where opportunity is available to every Vincentian willing to work for it.
Nor do I wish to be a hatchet man, or to be seen as one. I do not write to settle scores, and I do not believe that change should ever become synonymous with vengeance. Democracies mature when institutions are respected and when governments govern within the law.
At the same time, I would be less than honest if I ignored what I continue to hear from people across the country. One of the privileges of writing is that people often tell you what they honestly think. As a writer, I have always allowed my pen to follow honest reflection rather than convenience. Sometimes that reflection agrees with my own instincts; sometimes it merely records the questions others are asking.
I have no interest in censoring those observations simply because they may be uncomfortable. Writers do not exist merely to repeat what is convenient. They exist to wrestle with the questions thoughtful citizens are already asking.
As I look across the institutional landscape, I cannot help but notice the degree of continuity that remains. Whether one looks at health, finance, public administration or other important sectors of national life, many Vincentians perceive more continuity than change. Whether that continuity provesbeneficial or limiting is not something that can be answered by slogans. It is a question that deserves thoughtful discussion because institutions shape outcomes just as surely as policies do.
There are, of course, important considerations on the other side. Institutional memory has value. Stability has value. Public servants and office holders often serve under successive administrations, and respect for contracts, due process and the rule of law contribute to confidence in democratic governance. Those principles should never be casually discarded.
Yet every incoming government is also elected to implement a programme and to give practical effect to the vision presented to the electorate. Balancing continuity with renewal has always been one of the more difficult responsibilities of democratic leadership. There is no universal formula. Every country, and every administration, must find that balance for itself.
The mandate delivered by the electorate could scarcely have been clearer. The New Democratic Party won fourteen seats, while the Unity Labour Party kept one. Such outcomes are rare in parliamentary democracies. They naturally invite reflection on the scale of change the electorate expected and on how that expectation should be understood.
I do not pretend to have every answer. My purpose is not to prescribe solutions but to encourage thoughtful discussion about an issue that many Vincentians are already considering. Democracies are strengthened when difficult questions can be asked respectfully by citizens, when differing views can be aired honestly, and when institutions continue to evolve in ways that deepen public confidence.
History will not judge this administration simply by the excitement that went with its arrival. It will judge it by the institutions it leaves stronger, the opportunities it creates, the confidence it restores and the future it helps to build.
The election changed a government.
Time will reveal the full measure of what else it changed. And time, we ought to know, waits on no one.
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