MONTEGO BAY, Jamaica, January 16, 2026 - O. Dave Allen | At the heart of the People’s National Party’s current predicament lies an unresolved ideological tension. Though born as a democratic challenge to imperialism in alliance with a local capitalist oligarchy, the party has struggled to define a coherent position within the neoliberal order that now governs political and economic life.
Unable to decisively confront that system or articulate a transformative alternative, the PNP has become trapped between its radical memory and its cautious present—invoking change while managing continuity, and celebrating a past it has not yet translated into a future.
In Jamaica, this contradiction has played out repeatedly—from bauxite dependency and IMF austerity to a tourism-finance economy that concentrates wealth, exports profits, and treats Jamaican land and labour as inputs rather than stakeholders. The structure has remained consistent: external power aligned with local capital, producing growth without transformation.
The PNP was born out of a Black middle-class nationalist impulse to replace colonial rule. Yet it was also shaped by the Drumblair elite—an intelligentsia steeped in Eurocentric thought, Cold War anxieties, and Fabian respectability. Its ideological grammar was never fully decolonized. Even at its most radical moments, the party sought legitimacy through European frameworks rather than grounding itself fully in African epistemologies and Caribbean political economy.
Michael Manley remains the party’s towering symbol—its moral compass and political myth. But legacy has hardened into ritual. Revered rather than interrogated, Manley’s memory now functions less as a political engine and more as ideological shelter. The party speaks fluently about Manley, but hesitates when speaking to the present.
That hesitation is fatal in a generational moment defined by rupture.
Gen Z born between 1997; and 2012 is tech-native, justice-driven, globally connected, and impatient with nostalgia. This generation does not want recycled slogans or symbolic radicalism. It demands authenticity, cultural grounding, digital fluency, and structural change.
It understands power intuitively how it circulates through platforms, finance, culture, and global systems and it is deeply skeptical of institutions that speak the language of transformation while practicing the politics of delay.
Rapture is not, in itself, the enemy of political transformation. No meaningful political rupture has ever occurred without a moment of collective emotional awakening. History moves when people feel—when resignation gives way to urgency and private frustration becomes shared conviction. In this sense, political rapture can function as a catalyst for change, jolting societies out of inertia and compelling action where reason alone has failed.
Political rapture describes a heightened collective state in which people feel that history is opening, that the present order is no longer fixed, and that participation matters. It generates energy, courage, and mass engagement. It is the spark that turns scattered grievances into movements.
The PNP has experienced rapture before. The Manley era was marked by a genuine emotional awakening among the masses—a belief that dignity, justice, and sovereignty were possible. But that rapture was never fully institutionalized into a durable political economy or a deeply decolonized ideological framework. When the emotional tide receded under external pressure and internal contradiction, the party retreated into caution rather than renewal.
This unresolved relationship to rapture continues to haunt the PNP today. The danger is not emotional awakening itself, but mistaking emotional intensity for ideological clarity, or mass enthusiasm for structural transformation. Rapture can open political space—but without discipline, it collapses into nostalgia, personality worship, or moral absolutism.

That moment now rests with Damion Crawford, Isat Buchanan, and Allan Bernard.
Each represents a different doorway into renewal. Crawford brings policy intelligence sharpened by modern economic realities. Buchanan embodies constitutional courage rooted in justice and the unfinished work of decolonization. Bernard represents organizational clarity and movement discipline an understanding that political power is built, not inherited.
Together, they symbolize the possibility, not the guarantee, of a PNP that can speak in the language of the present: digitally fluent, culturally grounded, politically literate, and morally decisive. A party capable of engaging Gen Z not as heirs to a frozen past, but as architects of a new future.
But symbolism is not enough. This is a summons, not a coronation.
The call is clear: break with inherited caution. Interrogate neoliberal orthodoxy honestly, not quietly manage it. Reclaim the African redemptive tradition not as ornament, but as ideological spine. Speak directly to Gen Z not as apprentices to history, but as partners in transformation.
This is not a call for cosmetic rebranding. It is a demand for political courage.
If the PNP is to be reborn, it will not be through echoes of Drumblair or endless invocations of Manley, powerful though that legacy remains. It will come only through leaders willing to risk rupture for relevance, truth for comfort, and transformation over preservation.
History will not wait. And neither will the generation now coming into its power.
The author, Mr. O. Dave Allen, is a freelance writer and community development advocate as well as a political commentator. Please send comments to
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