So I decided to break my week-long vow of silence on social media when I came across fellow brothers and sisters who were certain about one thing: Dominica needs change.
They may disagree on who should lead it or how to get there, but almost every voice in those threads cried out for something different. Something better. Some want United Workers Party (UWP) to rise again, others have moved on. Many are pleading for a new direction altogether. But if there’s one thing we’re completely united on, it’s this: the Dominica Labour Party (DLP) is the reason, and it is not the answer.
We all feel it. The contempt. The arrogance. The way certain ministers speak, like they own the country and we are just peasants lucky to breathe the same air. The lies are too many to list, but they’ve been stacked year after year, broken promises, unexplained projects, billions in loans, and zero accountability. DLP doesn’t even pretend to explain anymore. They’ve crowned themselves kings and masters; if you dare question them, you’re the problem. You’re the traitor.
So the people want them out. That much is clear. But wanting isn’t enough.
People feel betrayed, not just by those in power, but by those who were supposed to be the alternative. The disappointment runs deep, especially for those who poured years into UWP only to watch it stumble, fracture, and fall silent when the people needed boldness the most.
And yet, while Dominicans are still nursing those wounds, they’re also looking for a way forward. They’re tired of arguing over symbols and colours. They want to know if this next fight will be different. If it’ll be worth it. Because, contrary to what the DLP oligarchy thinks, most Dominicans are not fools. They see what’s coming, but they’re also tired of false starts and fragile alliances.
Somebody in those threads said the opposition should already have 70 percent of the silent voters lined up by now. I agree. Those people who nod at meetings but don’t want to be quoted, the ones who don’t show up in political selfies but know how they’ll vote in private, that’s the base that needs building, and we’re not building it.
What we have instead is noise, infighting, and accusations. Everyone wants to be the face of the movement, but nobody wants to do the background work. There are too many camps and too many egos.
Meanwhile, DLP smiles and tightens its grip. Because they know, they’ve seen this play out before. While we debate who gets to drive, they’re already halfway to the finish line. This whole “have faith and leave it to God” talk needs balance. I believe in prayer. But I also believe in plans. God didn’t vote in your place last election. And he won’t next time. He gave you a voice, not just to sing worship, but to speak truth and demand better.
And this isn’t about being negative. It’s about being honest. The streets are too quiet right now. People are not feeling inspired. They’re waiting. And silence doesn’t mean satisfaction. It means doubt. And if that doubt turns into apathy, then DLP walks in unchallenged again.
It can’t go on like this.
UWP has a choice. Either rebuild with clarity and humility, or step aside and help shape something broader, something fresh. The independents and smaller groups need to decide if they’re serious about joining forces or just waiting to pick from the scraps after another loss.
We need something people can believe in, not another patch job. We need a real movement with purpose, faces that listen, boots on the ground, not just likes on a post.
Because this is not just about getting rid of Skerrit, it’s about building something that outlives him.
I broke my silence because, deep down, I still believe Dominica deserves better. But not like this. Not with everyone scattered, not with no plan, not while the rulers of DLP sit on their throne laughing at our divisions.
If there was ever a time to move, it’s now before we lose another election. Before we lose another generation. Before we lose each other.
This article is copyright © 2025 DOM767
Dominica has a population of just over 65,000 people, yet only around 40,000 are eligible to vote. This small voting pool should encourage greater political participation and accountability, but under Skerrit’s leadership, it has been used to consolidate power through disengagement, manipulation, and selective loyalty. For years, Skerrit has managed to maintain control of the government without needing widespread national support. He wins not because the majority stands behind him, but because too many citizens feel that voting will not change anything. and that hopelessness is exactly what keeps him in power.
With such a limited number of eligible voters, Skerrit does not need a popular mandate, he just needs enough people to stay home on election day. If only 30,000 people vote and he secures just over 15,000 of those ballots, he remains Prime Minister. That is less than 25% of the country’s total population, and the reality is even starker when you factor in disillusionment, fear of speaking out, and targeted political favors. This is not a functioning democracy. It is a government propped up by disengagement, apathy, and strategic silence.
The Skerrit government has perfected a model of political survival based on keeping its support base small but loyal. Through patronage, jobs, government contracts, and social programs selectively distributed in exchange for votes, the Dominica Labour Party maintains just enough control to win. Meanwhile, opposition supporters are ignored, marginalized, or intimidated into silence. Add to that the dominance of pro-government media, the blurring of state and party, and the deliberate neglect of electoral reform, and you have a system where free choice exists on paper but not in practice.
Nowhere is this manipulation more evident than in Dominica’s rural villages and small communities, where elections can be decided by a dozen votes. In villages of just a few hundred people, the DLP campaigns aggressively, knowing that swaying just a handful of families can secure an entire seat. Promises are made behind closed doors, community leaders are rewarded for compliance, and those who dissent face social exclusion, economic retaliation, or both. In these tight knit environments, voting against the ruling party is not just a political choice, it can mean losing your job, being ostracized by neighbors, or having basic services withheld. This is not democratic governance, it is localized coercion disguised as consensus.
This environment of fear and futility breeds exactly what Skerrit relies on most, voter apathy. Many Dominicans no longer believe that casting a ballot will change anything. They see the same faces in power, the same empty promises repeated every five years, and the same communities left behind. That hopelessness, that quiet resignation, is the DLP’s greatest political weapon. Skerrit does not need you to vote for him. He just needs you to stay home, to stay silent, and to stop believing that change is possible.
But it is possible. Change starts when we recognize that silence is complicity. The people of Dominica must reclaim their voice. We must push for real electoral reform, fair access to media, and protection from political retaliation. We must reject the idea that democracy is something reserved for the loyal few while the rest of us suffer in silence. Every vote matters. Every voice counts. And every citizen deserves to be heard, not just the ones willing to trade loyalty for favors.
Skerrit wins by shrinking the fight, by narrowing the political field, and by convincing us that nothing will ever change. But the truth is, he fears what would happen if we all stood up, spoke out, and voted with purpose. Our power is in our numbers. And the only way to defeat a system built on apathy is through participation. It is time to make our voices louder than their silence.