Jalil Dabdoub | Why the Integrity Commission matters now more than ever

In an age of political theatre and performative transparency, the role of Integrity Commissions (IC) in democratic societies cannot be overstated. These institutions were not born out of convenience or political whim — they were carved out of necessity, moulded by decades of public frustration with corruption, cronyism, and opaque governance.

They are the public’s watchdogs, standing between elected officials and the temptation — or habit — of abusing power for personal enrichment.

And yet, in our country, the Integrity Commission has become more of a political punching bag than a pillar of democratic integrity. Our prime minister and several members of parliament have openly struggled, squirmed, and, in some cases, outright defied the mechanisms of oversight. They talk transparency but, when the lights turn on, they scurry into the shadows.

The Integrity Commission exists for one primary reason: to ensure that those who are elected to serve do not exploit their position for private gain. That’s it. It is not an anti-government entity. It is not a partisan weapon. It is, at its core, a tool of good governance — one designed to reduce corruption, increase accountability, and insulate public institutions from the corrosive influence of external actors, whether they be criminal organisations, foreign powers, or local business interests.

But good governance has enemies. It disrupts the flow of “easy money” and spoils the illusion that political office is a golden ticket to untold wealth. Nowhere is this tension more evident than in the case of our own prime minister.

We need to say it out loud because too many whisper it behind closed doors: for the sake of good governance, any questions about the financial affairs of the prime minister and any other public official must be addressed openly and transparently. When someone in a position as powerful as the prime minister faces public concerns — it is essential to clear the air. There may well be a reasonable explanation, but it must be shared clearly and confidently. Without that, suspicions will fester, and public trust — so vital to the legitimacy of leadership — will be eroded.

PUBLIC INTEREST

This is a matter of public interest. The PM holds the highest office in the land. He commands the state budget. He shapes national policy. If he cannot transparently explain the origins of his wealth, he erodes the moral authority of his office.

If the prime minister cannot clearly account for his assets, what signal does that send to the rest of the government? That accountability is optional? That integrity is a talking point, not a practice? That laws apply selectively?

The United States offers a valuable lesson. For years, the federal government tried — and failed — to dismantle the Mafia. Traditional law enforcement tools simply didn’t work. Mob bosses were too smart, too insulated, too well-connected. It wasn’t until the US Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO) statutes — laws designed to target illicit enrichment and criminal enterprise — that prosecutors could go after the structure of organised corruption itself.

Integrity Commissions, when empowered and respected, function like our version of RICO. They target systemic abuse. They follow the money. They don’t need to catch someone red-handed; they can connect the dots and prove that a public official’s wealth simply doesn’t match their legitimate income. That’s not persecution — it’s public accountability.

The resistance to the Integrity Commission (IC) by some in our Parliament is telling. Instead of cooperating, many delay filings, provide incomplete information, or worse, attack the commission as being biased or overreaching. This is not the behaviour of public servants with nothing to hide. This is the behaviour of individuals who fear exposure.

It’s not just the PM. We have MPs who cry victim when asked to declare assets, who treat oversight like a personal insult rather than a democratic obligation. We have ministers who bristle at financial disclosure, who want to pick and choose what the public gets to know. We have a justice minister who advised his colleagues to act contrary to the law and not divulge the salaries of their spouses or children to the IC during the course of its investigations, despite Section 40 (1) of the Integrity Commission Act. This is unacceptable and an affront to the principle that no one is above it.

PRICE OF SCRUTINY

But democracy doesn’t work that way. You don’t get the privilege of power without the price of scrutiny.

We should never focus solely on the PM on this issue. It’s about trust. When the public sees politicians grow obscenely wealthy in office, while schools crumble, roads erode, and hospitals beg for supplies, faith in democracy dies a little more each day. The growing cynicism isn’t apathy — it’s despair.

The goal here is not to accuse PM Holness of wrongdoing – this is about protecting the integrity of our democratic institutions. For the sake of democracy, this situation cannot spiral. Transparency now is not a concession; it is a contribution to the strength and credibility of the very systems that uphold our democratic institutions.

We need a strong Integrity Commissions now more than ever. We need them to dig deep, to follow the money, to demand answers — no matter who’s in the hot seat. We need leaders who welcome scrutiny, not run from it.

And we, the public, must stop accepting vague answers and shiny distractions. We must insist that the prime minister account for every dollar of his wealth.

To the prime minister: The country deserves an answer. Not another speech. Not another deflection. A real answer. The Integrity Commission asked. The people are asking. Set the example, democracy demands it.

Because, if you cannot walk with demonstrable integrity, you cannot lead with authority.

Jalil S. Dabdoub is an attorney-at-law. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com