I listened. I waited. I stayed quiet. Not because I had nothing to say, but because sometimes silence is safer. That is the message I took away from former Member of Parliament Joshua Francis when he finally broke his silence and said what too many are thinking but too afraid to admit: Dominica is no longer a place where people feel free to speak.
Francis didn’t come out swinging. He came out reflecting. Honest. Controlled. Measured. And that made it hit even harder. You could hear it in his tone. This was not a man on a mission for revenge. This was someone who tried, gave his best, got burned, and stepped back to save what little was left of his integrity. And what did he find in the years that followed? That the fear he felt wasn’t just his own. It had spread. Across party lines, across generations, across professions. Dominicans are no longer just politically divided. We are psychologically worn down.
Fear Has Replaced Freedom
What Joshua Francis said out loud is something many already know in private: speaking truth in Dominica is risky. You lose friends. You lose clients. You get watched. You get whispered about. And if you’re not careful, you get erased.
He saw it first as an elected MP. He watched what happens when truth makes people uncomfortable. When questioning authority gets you sidelined. When being principled gets you branded a traitor. And he saw it not just from the ruling party, but from his own.
That’s the part that stings. That’s the part people keep trying to pretend doesn’t matter. Francis wasn’t just silenced by power. He was abandoned by people who should have stood beside him.
His story is not just about Labour’s grip. It is about an opposition culture that punishes honesty, prefers unity on paper, and fears uncomfortable truths. We need to talk about that. Because if people are too afraid to speak within the very camps that claim to fight for freedom, then what are we really building, hmmm?
A National Illness
This isn’t just a Labour problem. It is a national political illness. One where fear replaces vision. One where parties function more like cults of loyalty than engines of accountability. One where citizens are trained to choose survival over speech.
And when people stop speaking, when those who tried retreat in silence, something worse creeps in: resignation. Not just to who is in power, but to the idea that no one else ever will be.
Francis explained what many whisper after elections. That votes are bought. That voters are imported. That even the voter list is compromised. These aren’t wild theories. These are things said by a man who sat inside the machinery, ran in the race, and still lost his voice.
How does a country claim to be democratic when truth gets punished? How do we celebrate free speech when the price of honesty is isolation?
The Silence Around Us
Francis reminded us that fear isn’t just created by government. It’s also created by silence. Silence from the church. Silence from educators. Silence from business leaders. Silence from the people who know better but choose quiet because it pays better.
He said something that struck me harder than anything else: “We’ve normalized dysfunction.”
That is it. That’s the line. That’s the truth we don’t like to hear. We’ve normalized people flying in to vote while living abroad year-round. We’ve normalized white envelopes with cash passed quietly during campaigns. We’ve normalized loyalty to red and blue while the country’s future dries up.
We’ve turned our children into witnesses of lies and excuses. We’ve made them believe power is about who can pay more, not who can serve better.
And for what? For a few gallons of gas? For a job you’re afraid to lose? For a leader you’re not allowed to question?
This isn’t just a Joshua Francis problem. This is an us problem. And if we don’t face it, we’re going to wake up one day and realize the fear we feel now is nothing compared to what’s coming.
The Mirror We Don’t Want
Francis stepped back. He watched. And when he finally spoke, it wasn’t to seek pity. It was to hold up a mirror. He’s saying to us, “This is who we’ve become.”
So what now? Do we dismiss his words because they’re uncomfortable? Do we call him bitter, or do we accept that maybe he’s right?
Dominica has become a place where truth doesn’t just make you unpopular. It makes you a threat. That is not freedom. That is not democracy. That is fear dressed in red or blue.
And if the people who know this best are staying silent, then who’s left to speak?
Francis isn’t perfect. None of us are. But maybe that’s the point. We don’t need saints to save us. We need citizens who are tired of pretending, tired of defending the indefensible, tired of waiting for change while doing nothing to create it.
What would happen if we stopped fearing the consequences of honesty? What if the next generation saw leaders who told the truth and were still respected? What if speaking up didn’t cost you everything?
The Real Challenge
Too many of us have become comfortable in the shade. We talk change but hide from confrontation. We want better, but not if it makes us uncomfortable. And in that gap between what we want and what we’re willing to do, silence grows.
We cannot allow fear to keep writing the story of this country. The Dominica that raised so many bold voices in the past is still alive, but buried under silence. And silence has never built a nation. It only buries its dreams.
Where are the pastors who once spoke truth from the pulpit? Many now avoid politics entirely, afraid of losing favour or funding. Where are the teachers who once taught civic courage? Too many now warn students to stay quiet instead of showing them how to engage.
And where are the journalists? The few who dare to ask hard questions are quickly labeled, sidelined, or blocked from access. The silence is loud.
The Time to Speak Is Now
This is the culture Francis is warning us about. A system where compliance is rewarded, and courage is punished. And slowly, it seeps into everything. People stop running for office. People stop voting. People stop believing their voice matters.
That is how a democracy dies, not with violence, but with quiet acceptance.
Joshua Francis did not give us all the answers, but he gave us a signal. He reminded us that the problem is not just who holds office, but the conditions that allow power to go unchecked. Those conditions thrive on our silence, our fear, and our doubt. Unless we break that cycle, we will always be watching from the sidelines while others decide our future.
Maybe the most important part of his message is this: stepping away does not mean giving up. Sometimes, people step away to heal. To reflect. To wait for the right time to return. But they are still watching. Still hoping that when they speak again, more people will be ready to listen.
So if you’re reading this and you’ve been quiet too, know this, you are not alone. There are many like you. People who want change but are unsure how to begin. People who feel angry but afraid. The first step is to stop pretending. Say it out loud. Admit what’s wrong. Then find one other person willing to say it with you.
Because that’s how fear loses. Not all at once, but bit by bit, as more of us decide that silence is no longer an option.
Joshua Francis broke his silence. The rest of us should consider doing the same.
This article is copyright © 2025 DOM767
So now Joshua want to talk? After how many years in hiding? Man playing shy but still hoping to jump in when election heat turn up.
Joshua Francis’s insights into the nation’s challenges highlight the need for collective action and open dialogue.
Better to speak at some point rather than not at all.
To be honest, I agree with some of what Joshua said. The fear is real. Plenty people not talking because they fraid to lose contract or get targeted. But we also can’t forget, he formed his own party too. So let’s not pretend he’s some outsider just watching from the hills. He know the game well.
Joshua Francis talking about fear, but he wasn’t afraid when he abandoned the UWP and start his own party. Let’s be real. That move was about power. And when it didn’t work out, he disappeared. Now he reappearing like some moral compass for the country. Where was all that reflection and courage when the people in his own constituency needed a voice?
Where was that energy when public servants crying out under pressure? Don’t get me wrong, what he saying is not all false. But the messenger matters too. Dominicans tired of people who speak truth only when it suits their political return. Speak when it’s hard. Speak when nobody clapping. Then we might listen different.
People calling Joshua bitter or late, but none of that takes away from what he said. Dominica is not a place where free speech feels safe anymore.
Try criticizing the government on your real name online and see how fast people distance themselves from you. Joshua experienced it in real time, both from Labour supporters and from the UWP when they dropped him.
Yes, he tried to start his own party. Yes, it failed. But failure doesn’t make you wrong. If anything, it makes his message hit harder. Because this is a man who faced it all, internal betrayal, smear campaigns, political isolation, and still wants to speak. Whether he has political ambitions again or not, what he said is real. The silence is real. And if more people don’t start speaking with that kind of clarity, we’ll keep sinking quietly while clapping for the same people keeping us down.
Let’s put politics aside for a second.
What if Joshua is right?
What if most of us really are too afraid to speak?
You don’t have to like the man, but you can’t deny that silence everywhere these days. I don’t see any other politician saying it. Maybe he late.
Maybe he self-serving. But still… somebody had to say it. Somebody had to break it.
Let’s be clear: Joshua Francis isn’t just any former MP. He was one of the few in the UWP who consistently talked about youth, justice, and ethics in public service.
The problem is, once the internal rifts started and he felt betrayed by his own party, he stepped back instead of standing firm. That choice cost him politically, and he’s never recovered. But what he’s saying now about fear and silence isn’t wrong. In Dominica today, people avoid voicing opinions not out of apathy but out of self-preservation. The public service, private contractors, even teachers feel watched. Joshua may have lost the platform, but he hasn’t lost the insight. We don’t have to support his return to respect the truth he’s naming.
This country still hasn’t implemented the full electoral reforms it promised, and Joshua Francis is one of the few who keeps reminding us that fair elections start with trust.
The voter list is bloated. The diaspora votes without residency requirements. And too many people fear retaliation for showing political preference.
While his political comeback attempt may have failed, he’s earned the right to speak about these issues.
What I respect is that he’s not just calling out DLP. He’s calling out the culture of silence across the board, even in the opposition.
If Dominica ever wants real political maturity, it has to start with truth-telling, no matter who it comes from.
Here’s the thing Joshua not saying, most of the fear he talking about comes from within the opposition. There are people who support UWP but are scared to speak because they don’t want to offend people in their own party, not because of Skerrit. There are folks who try to organize and get cut off by party elites. So this “culture of fear” is not just a government problem. It’s a political problem on all sides. And let’s not forget, Joshua himself wasn’t exactly fearless when things got hot. He retreated, went quiet, and now re-emerging like he’s Gandhi.
We tired of people finding their voice only when it’s convenient or when a seat looking winnable again.