Dear Editor,

The People’s National Party (PNP) recently unveiled a plan to subsidise buses and taxis for student transportation — a policy initiative that, on the surface, might seem progressive and student-centred, but beneath the thin veneer of political populism lies a deeply disconnected proposal, shaped more by privilege than genuine understanding of the lived experiences of Jamaica’s youth.

Let us not be misled by the polished statements and feel-good rhetoric. The harsh reality is that this plan has been architected by individuals who, for much of their lives, have been chauffeured from gated communities to private institutions, safely nestled in the back seats of luxury vehicles. These are not the voices of those who have stood for hours at Half-Way-Tree or Spanish Town terminals, jostling for space in overcrowded buses or praying that the next taxi ride doesn’t turn into a horror story.

The most troubling aspect of this proposal is the apparent lack of understanding — or wilful ignorance — of the dangers and trauma associated with public transportation in Jamaica. The PNP leadership, many of whom hail from wealth and privilege, are simply out of touch with the brutal realities that students face daily on the streets and in our transit systems.

Over the years, there have been numerous reports of violence — robberies, harassment, and even stabbings — on public buses. Students, particularly those from inner-city communities, have been exposed to unspeakable profanity, sexual harassment, and the constant psychological burden of navigating unsafe environments. It’s not just about getting from point A to point B, it’s about survival.

Instead of acknowledging these realities and working to create a safe, dedicated school transport system, the PNP is pushing students into the very system that has failed them for decades. It’s a move that reeks of detachment, driven more by optics than empathy.

Throwing subsidies at a broken system is not a solution — it’s a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Reduced fares won’t protect students from being caught in gang crossfire on a bus route. It won’t stop the verbal assaults or prevent predators from lurking at taxi stands. What students need is not cheaper access to danger, but safer alternatives.

If the PNP were serious about student welfare, they would be advocating for a dedicated, student-only school transportation system — managed, regulated, and policed for safety. A true investment in the future would prioritise the physical and mental well-being of students, not just the convenience of a sound bite during campaign season.

At its core, this policy exposes a wider issue within the PNP, and Jamaican politics in general: Decisions are often made by those far removed from the consequences. When you’ve never had to take a bus with a school bag clutched tightly to your chest, eyes scanning for threats, it’s easy to romanticise public transport as a “shared space of the people”. When your children have never had to hear gunshots from the back seat of a Coaster bus, you can afford to be idealistic.

This isn’t leadership. It’s negligence.

A subsidised transportation plan for students is not a policy crafted from understanding, but from assumption. It reflects the dangerous gap between the governed and those who govern. If we are to build a Jamaica that is truly equitable and safe, then our leaders must do more than throw money at the problem. They must listen — really listen — to the stories of our youth, and act with empathy, not entitlement.

Until then, no amount of subsidies will protect a child on a bus where trauma is just another stop on the route.

Adrean Gentles

gentlesadrean123@gmail.com