Every now and then, our public life gives us a moment worth pausing to examine, not because it is dramatic, but because it is revealing. Recent commentary in the national space has invited us to reconsider the nature of media, power, responsibility, and the sometimes-delicate dance between politics and public discourse in our country.

We behave, at times, as if Antigua & Barbuda is an exception to the well-established reality that the political directorate sits at the top of the national food chain. We act surprised and “brand new” when stepping into political territory yields pushback. Yet our own history teaches otherwise.

The history of media and “free speech” in Antigua and Barbuda is not a quiet one. Those who have walked the road of investigator, commentator, and national provocateur before, whether one agrees with them or not, understood that discomfort comes with the terrain. Some paid in reputation. Some paid with their livelihood. Some, in times past, paid in personal safety. It has never been a gentle path.

So, when we speak of stepping into the arena, we must also talk of preparedness not only to offer critique, but to withstand it; not only to “hold others to account,” but to accept accountability ourselves.

Which brings us to a troubling tendency resurfacing in our public square: The work is righteous only when we are the ones doing it. Fairness is only fair when it favours us.
Balance is only balanced when the balance tilts in our direction.

A recent example: How does one agree to host programming on a platform openly known to have a political association, then express shock that the environment is political? How does one commit to fostering balanced discourse, yet consistently construct conversations where only one side of the national argument is given voice? And when the predictable tensions arise, as they will, how do we then proclaim victimhood and persecution?

Balance is not achieved through tone but through structure, selection, and intention. Who is invited to the table matters. Who is not invited matters even more.

One cannot earnestly claim to be advancing the national conversation while curating panels designed to please one constituency, soothe one ideology, or provoke only one form of outrage, and then lament the consequences when that strategy is recognised for what it is.

There is something else here, too, something more worrying. When critique arises, the response cannot be to clutch pearls and run to the nearest microphone or grab a pen to declare oneself wounded. That is not the posture of the fourth estate. The fourth estate stands on a foundation of courage, not convenience. It demands the stamina to stay in the discomfort. To push past the personal. To fight for the principle, even when the weather turns against you. And certainly not to jump with early battle scars.

If the mission truly is national development, democratic strengthening, and widening the lanes of public participation, there would have been room to hold the contradictions, not escape them.

Because media work in a small island state, like ours is not merely a performance. It is stewardship. It is a responsibility.It is recognising that the microphone and the pen are not mirrors, but windows.

To all of us, I serve a reminder that our democracy is healthiest when we resist the temptation to sanctify ourselves and demonise others. When we acknowledge that no side holds a monopoly on virtue, and no one is exempt from critique simply because they are eloquent.

To the practitioners of media: The work demands more than commentary; it demands backbone.

To the political class, on all sides. When our reflex is to silence, shame, or exile voices that make us uncomfortable, we reveal fear, not strength. The political temperature of this country is almost always in campaign mode. We all know this. But national maturity requires us to dial down the heat long enough to hear one another.

And to the private sector, let us speak plainly. Many of you say you want “balance” and “nation-building programming,” yet your advertising dollars only support the safest silence if anything. You cannot call for courageous conversation without backing it up with financial support.  Media houses can’t do the work without the required resources within the social contract. Your caution has helped shrink the spaces where complex dialogue can happen.
Neutrality is not always discretion. Sometimes, it is abandonment.

Politics determines who governs this nation. That is not something to fear; it is something to engage. It is the way in many of the countries and spaces we emulate and follow closely, sometimes forgetting our own state of affairs.   We must not be afraid to participate, to state positions, to build institutions, and to hold those we support accountable when they lead. There is also the right to choose no side at all, but we must be clear-eyed:

Across the world and across time, to the victor go the spoils. Our duty is not to resent the existence of power, but to shape how that power is exercised.

If we are serious about elevating the discourse, then we must be serious about the weight of the microphone and the pen, the courage of the speaker and the writer, the responsibility of the institutions, and the maturity of the audience.

The work continues! The conversation continues! Antigua & Barbuda remains ours to build.

— Petra The Spectator