In this mo­ment, Trinidad and To­ba­go stands at a cross­roads. The air is thick with cam­paign rhetoric, po­lit­i­cal ads, and pas­sion­ate voic­es promis­ing change. Every cor­ner is echo­ing with the chants of new al­liances, re­brand­ed coali­tions, stand­alone en­ti­ties, and bold in­de­pen­dents, each de­clar­ing them­selves to be the long-await­ed so­lu­tion to the na­tion’s prob­lems. Some have called it “sil­ly sea­son.” But for the peo­ple—the sin­gle moth­er in Laven­tille, the fish­er­man in Ce­dros, the teacher in San Fer­nan­do, the busi­ness own­er in Ari­ma—this is no laugh­ing mat­ter. The stakes are far too high.

Let’s be clear: it is one thing to have a strat­e­gy to win an elec­tion, and quite an­oth­er to have a strat­e­gy to run a coun­try. His­to­ry, not on­ly in our na­tion but glob­al­ly, has shown us the tragedy that un­folds when po­lit­i­cal move­ments are built on charis­ma with­out com­pe­tence, noise with­out a na­tion­al plan, pop­u­lar­i­ty with­out pur­pose. What good is a rous­ing cam­paign slo­gan if it dies on the steps of gov­er­nance? What use is a man­i­festo that reads like po­et­ry but per­forms like a tragedy? To those who would lead: Your abil­i­ty to in­spire a crowd must be matched by your abil­i­ty to gov­ern a peo­ple. Lead­er­ship is not about ap­plause on a stage—it is about ac­count­abil­i­ty be­hind closed doors. It is about the sleep­less nights craft­ing pol­i­cy, the wis­dom to lis­ten more than speak, the courage to con­front un­com­fort­able truths, and the fore­sight to plan 10, 20, 30 years ahead, be­yond the po­lit­i­cal cy­cle.

The road ahead for Trinidad and To­ba­go is not a smooth one. We are fac­ing an ex­is­ten­tial cri­sis that threat­ens our na­tion­al fab­ric. Crime is not just sta­tis­tics—it’s blood on our streets. Our ed­u­ca­tion sys­tem is strain­ing to keep up with glob­al trends. The econ­o­my, though filled with po­ten­tial, re­mains vul­ner­a­ble to ex­ter­nal shocks and in­ter­nal in­ef­fi­cien­cies. Our young peo­ple are search­ing for hope, for di­rec­tion, for lead­er­ship that sees them not as votes, but as the fu­ture. And yet, many of the par­ties vy­ing for pow­er are still cam­paign­ing as if elec­tions are a pop­u­lar­i­ty con­test. As if gov­er­nance is on­ly about pos­tur­ing. As if shout­ing the loud­est is the same as stand­ing the tallest.

This can­not con­tin­ue. Our na­tion can­not af­ford it. What we need is not just a change of faces, but a change of mind­set. Be­fore you ask the peo­ple for their vote, ask your­self: Do I have a re­al plan to trans­form this na­tion? Am I pre­pared for the weight of gov­er­nance? Do I un­der­stand the in­tri­ca­cies of our econ­o­my, the nu­ances of na­tion­al se­cu­ri­ty, the ur­gency of youth de­vel­op­ment, the de­mands of health­care re­form, the com­plex­i­ty of man­ag­ing pub­lic re­sources? Hav­ing a plat­form means noth­ing with­out a pol­i­cy. Hav­ing a fan base means noth­ing with­out a blue­print. Hav­ing a voice means noth­ing if you have no vi­sion.

To those who want to lead: show us that you un­der­stand na­tion­al se­cu­ri­ty is more than just boots on the ground—it’s a co­or­di­nat­ed, in­tel­li­gence-led, whole-of-gov­ern­ment ap­proach to cit­i­zen safe­ty. Show us that eco­nom­ic growth is not just about GDP fig­ures, but about food se­cu­ri­ty, di­ver­si­fi­ca­tion, en­tre­pre­neur­ship, and the eq­ui­table dis­tri­b­u­tion of wealth. Show us that youth de­vel­op­ment is not a tagline, but a struc­tured and sus­tained in­vest­ment in ed­u­ca­tion, men­tor­ship, skills train­ing, and op­por­tu­ni­ties for up­ward mo­bil­i­ty. We are not in­ter­est­ed in lead­er­ship that di­vides us.

We are des­per­ate for lead­er­ship that unites us. Stop stok­ing trib­al­ism, stop am­pli­fy­ing dif­fer­ences, stop drag­ging each oth­er through the mud. Pol­i­tics should not be about who can de­stroy their op­po­nent’s char­ac­ter best—it should be about who can build the na­tion stronger. If your en­tire strat­e­gy rests on who you hate or what you op­pose, then you are not yet ready to gov­ern. Trinidad and To­ba­go needs ser­vant lead­ers. Lead­ers who are will­ing to make sac­ri­fices. Lead­ers who are not just chas­ing pow­er, but pur­su­ing pur­pose. Lead­ers who will not on­ly say, “Trust me,” but show us, “This is the way.”

To those with in­flu­ence: guide your fol­low­ers with in­tegri­ty. To those with am­bi­tion: check your mo­tives. To those with re­sources: in­vest in na­tion-build­ing. And to the peo­ple—the re­al pow­er in this democ­ra­cy—de­mand more. De­mand trans­paren­cy. De­mand com­pe­tence. De­mand vi­sion.

We can­not keep re­peat­ing cy­cles of dis­ap­point­ment be­cause we fell in love with an­oth­er cam­paign fairy tale. It’s time to stop elect­ing based on per­for­mance and start elect­ing based on pol­i­cy. It’s time to stop be­ing se­duced by slo­gans and start be­ing stirred by sub­stance.

This elec­tion is not just about win­ning. It is about defin­ing the fu­ture of Trinidad and To­ba­go. If you are of­fer­ing your­self as a can­di­date, prove to us that you have not on­ly stud­ied the prob­lems, but de­signed the so­lu­tions. Prove that you un­der­stand this coun­try not just from your head­quar­ters, but from the grass­roots. Prove that you’re not just ready to serve a term—you’re ready to serve the peo­ple. And re­mem­ber, a strat­e­gy to win an elec­tion is tem­po­rary. A strat­e­gy to run a coun­try is trans­for­ma­tion­al.