The recent outburst by Member of Parliament Everald Warmington — marked by his public use of an expletive on a political platform — has once again thrust Jamaica’s democratic culture into urgent focus. Though the apology came swiftly, this moment must not be dismissed as a passing misstep. It demands a reckoning.

Since March 2011, Warmington’s conduct has revealed a sustained pattern of confrontational and, at times, openly disrespectful behaviour — particularly towards journalists, women, and political opponents. Belated apologies followed some incidents; others were met with silence. However, the deeper issue is not merely the recurrence of these infractions, it is the systemic failure to respond effectively. This ongoing impunity exposes a glaring truth: Jamaica’s parliamentary system lacks a consistent, enforceable mechanism to hold its members accountable.

Warmington’s behaviour, like many of his past transgressions, is not simply a matter of personal temperament, it is a symptom of institutional neglect. Jamaica still lacks an enforceable code of conduct for parliamentarians and an independent oversight body with the authority to act.

For over a decade, civil society has called for action. Yet the response has been inertia dressed as intent. This failure to act is not a footnote — it is a fracture in the very foundation of democratic accountability. As early as 2009, Jamaica’s Vision 2030 National Development Plan explicitly pledged to establish “guidelines with appropriate sanctions, as well as with roles and responsibilities of members of the Houses of Parliament, to ensure effectiveness and accountability”. Sixteen years later — with just five years remaining before Vision 2030’s target date — that commitment remains unfulfilled. Instead of a clear, binding framework, the public has been handed a vague and unenforceable draft code, buried in a green paper — absent of timelines, sanctions, or legal authority. This is not reform, it is a performance. It betrays the very ethos of integrity and good governance that Vision 2030 sought to enshrine.

In 2023, the Minister of Legal and Constitutional Affairs Marlene Malahoo Forte announced that a draft code of conduct had been submitted to Cabinet. Yet two years on, no complete version has been published, no enforcement architecture has been outlined, and no penalties have been applied. What exists today is silence, interrupted only by scandal. That silence was broken again in November 2024, when National Integrity Action (NIA) renewed its demand for urgent reform. In response to racially charged remarks by Warmington and others, NIA called for the immediate publication of the code and urged the Government to legislate it with criminal sanctions. Their message was unambiguous: In a system without rules and referees, misconduct is not the exception — it becomes the culture. And it is democracy itself that pays the price.

This is not a minor detail, it is a rupture that threatens the integrity of our governance. Without clear standards and visible enforcement, public officials operate in a vacuum, governed by party discipline, political expediency, and public fatigue. The result: apologies after the fact, but no sustained consequences. Outrage, followed by inaction.

Compounding the problem is the 2024 dismantling of the Office of the Political Ombudsman, an institution that, despite its limited legal powers, served as the only visible referee in our political arena. It relied not on statutes but on moral authority and the symbolic significance of its mandate. At the time it was absorbed into the Electoral Commission of Jamaica, no binding code of conduct was in place, only informal expectations and a whisper of accountability.

That whisper is now gone.

What we are left with is neither a functioning code nor a credible watchdog — just a growing cynicism among citizens who wonder if civility, decency, and respect have any place in public service. This is not just a political issue. It is a democratic emergency.

To rebuild trust, we must move beyond empty commitments. Parliament must urgently:

• Release the complete code of conduct, with a timeline and tools for enforcement

• Reinstate an independent oversight body, or create one empowered by law to address political misconduct.

• Apply sanctions consistently, regardless of a politician’s status or tenure

• Invest in civic education and ethical leadership training, so future leaders know not just what power is, but what it’s for.

In this regard, Jamaica can look to New Zealand’s School Leavers’ Toolkit, which embeds civics and citizenship education into the national curriculum. Its model equips young people with the tools to understand democratic systems, engage in public discourse, and hold leaders accountable. We need a similarly expansive, culturally grounded programme — one that doesn’t just teach rights and responsibilities, but fosters a generation of principled, informed citizens.

At its core, this moment is a test of whether we, as a nation, are willing to live up to the values we proclaim. If we are to stand up for justice, brotherhood, and peace, these must be more than noble aspirations, they must be woven into the fabric of our institutions, exemplified in our leadership, and practised deliberately in our civic life. “Teach us true respect for all” is more than just a line from our national anthem, it is both a prayer and a promise. It sets a moral benchmark, not only for moments of national pride, but for the everyday conduct of those who serve in the people’s name.

Democracy falters not when leaders make mistakes but when they fail to be true to the standards that should guide them. Jamaica’s democracy does not merely need gatekeepers, it needs guardians. We deserve institutions that serve the public interest, not partisan personalities. And above all, we deserve leadership that leads not just in speeches, but in the strength of their example.

As Jamaica prepares to enter another election cycle, we do so without the guard rails any accountable system would demand: no binding code of conduct for parliamentarians and no impartial body empowered to uphold standards of political behaviour. Participating in elections without enforceable rules is like playing a championship match on a field with no boundaries, no whistle, and no consequences for fouls. It invites chaos, normalises misconduct, and leaves the public exposed.

In this kind of vacuum, inflammatory speech and abuse of power aren’t punished, they’re repeated— not because they are right, but because there is nothing in the system that says they are wrong. The health of our democracy cannot rely on goodwill or voluntary restraint, it demands credible structures that give force to the values we hold dear.

Let this be the moment we turn reckoning into reform. As citizens, advocates, and leaders, we must demand more than apologies — we must demand accountability. It is time to insist that Parliament move from promises to practice, enact the code of conduct, restore independent oversight, and invest in a civic education programme that prepares the next generation not just to vote, but to lead with integrity. Democracy is not self-sustaining, it lives — and withers — by the choices we make. Let us have the courage to be true to the principles we profess, the communities we serve, and the Jamaica we are called to build together.

Danielle S Archer is a patriotic Jamaican by nature and an advocate by design.

Everald Warmington.

Marlene Malahoo Forte (Photo: JIS)

Danielle Archer