JAMAICA'S Moral Abdication: From Champion to Fence-Sitter

By WiredJa Caribbean Correspondent

MONTEGO BAY,  Jamaica, September 26, 2025 - The empty seat tells the story. When 145 nations voted to allow Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas to address the United Nations remotely—a basic courtesy after America's vindictive visa denial—Jamaica's representative was nowhere to be found.

Jamaica not voting yes. Jamaica not voting no. Jamaica not even bothering to abstain. Just absent. Missing in action and "Fenkeh, Fenkeh," as frustrated Jamaicans would say—weak, spineless, afraid to take a stand.

Meanwhile, Barbados—with a tenth of Jamaica's population—commands global attention whenever Mia Mottley speaks. No wonder Jamaicans increasingly look to Bridgetown, not Kingston, for Caribbean moral leadership.

There was a time when Jamaica stood for something. When Michael Manley championed Third World solidarity and dared to tell Henry Kissinger where to stick his threats; 

When a brilliant and unassuming P.J. Patterson was the "Go To" Counsellor and guide of African and CARICOM heads of State and government in matters of the ACP, African, Caribbean and Pacific states among other matters;

When Bob Marley's "Get Up, Stand Up" wasn't just a song but a foreign policy doctrine. That Jamaica—the one that helped lead the anti-apartheid movement, that refused to bow to superpower bullying—is dead.

In its place sits a government that can't even muster the courage to vote on allowing an 89-year-old man to speak via video link about the genocide of his people.

While Jamaica hides behind "technical hitches," Mottley storms the UN General Assembly, the COP summits, Davos—anywhere power gathers—demanding climate reparations, calling out global apartheid, defending Haiti's sovereignty. 

She carries the torch Jamaica dropped. When she speaks about "imperial powers" creating "a death sentence for us," the world listens. When Jamaica speaks—if it speaks—the world yawns.

The October 27, 2023, precedent should have been a wake-up call. When Jamaica failed to vote on a humanitarian truce while Gaza burned, the foreign ministry blamed a "technical hitch." Now, facing another Palestinian vote, another absence. 

How convenient. How contemptible. Foreign Minister Kamina Johnson Smith can draft all the CARICOM positions she wants, but votes happen on the General Assembly floor, not in regional meetings.

This moral abdication extends beyond Palestine. Look at Haiti, where Jamaica violates its own human rights obligations daily, deporting desperate refugees back to hell. 

The same government that preaches regional leadership treats its closest neighbors like disposable problems. Contrast that with Mottley's consistent advocacy for Haiti, demanding international action while Jamaica practices refoulement.

The bitter irony peaked when Prime Minister Holness declared Jamaica must "speak boldly and clearly in an increasingly complex and dangerous world." Bold? Jamaica won't even show up to vote. Holness wants "a seat at the global table"—yet it's Mottley who sits there, while Jamaica's chair remains empty.

The tragedy deepens because Jamaica's moral voice, when raised, still could matter. The infrastructure of influence remains—the history, the cultural power, the diplomatic networks. But unused muscles atrophy. Each absence, each "technical hitch," each deportation of desperate Haitians erodes what generations built.

Mottley proves daily that small island states can still shake the powerful. Her Bridgetown Initiative reshapes climate finance debates. Her speeches go viral because they channel righteous anger into actionable demands. She stands where Manley once stood, speaks truths Norman Manley and Marcus Garvey would recognize.

And Jamaicans notice. They share her speeches, not their own Prime Minister's. They celebrate her victories as Caribbean victories, knowing their own government has vacated the field.

Jamaica isn't just failing Palestinians or Haitians—it's failing itself, ceding leadership to Bridgetown while Kingston perfects the art of diplomatic disappearance.

The empty seat condemns us all. The voice filling the vacuum reminds us what we've lost.

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