FNM HAS ALWAYS BEEN CORRUPT, CHECK HISTORY

The Free National Movement presents itself as ‘holier than thou’. It moves hither and thither, as if it has no indiscretions, trying to paint a negative picture of the PLP. They are scurrying all over the place, looking for anything that might stick because the clock is ticking, and they see themselves in an even worse state after the next general. They are not qualified to point fingers now and were not competent to judge anyone from the beginning.

But we can go back to the days of Sir Stafford Sands and Sir Roland Symonette, who were caught up in an epic scandal in casino gambling.

The Commission of Inquiry into gambling said it all.

The 1967 Royal Commission of Inquiry into casino gambling, a pivotal moment in our political history, should never fade from our collective memory. It was not simply an investigation but an indictment of the moral bankruptcy of the United Bahamian Party (UBP), which eventually became the Free National Movement (FNM) and its leadership.

The Commission’s findings laid bare the sordid truth: Sir Stafford Sands, hailed as the “Father of Tourism,” was the master architect of backroom deals that sold our country’s integrity to foreign gambling bosses and even American organised crime. Sir Roland Symonette, the Premier, stood alongside him while “consultancy fees” and under-the-table payments were exchanged for casino exemptions. PURE CROOKS!

The UBP/FNM treated the Bahamian people’s future like a bargaining chip, auctioned off to the highest bidder. This was not misjudgment—it was corruption in plain sight. A government sworn to serve the people was instead lining its pockets, inviting criminal influences into our shores, and betraying the trust of a nation. The Commission showed us how deep the rot had spread and why the Bahamian people had been right to demand change in 1967. The betrayal of trust was profound, and the disappointment palpable. This betrayal should serve as a stark reminder of the consequences of unchecked power and the importance of holding our leaders accountable.

We must be blunt: Sands, Symonette, and their UBP colleagues tarnished the Bahamas’ reputation for personal gain. Their actions dragged our young democracy into scandal and nearly shackled our economic future to the interests of mobsters, gangsters and profiteers.

Accountability is not optional; it is the cornerstone of good governance. To sweep this history under the rug is to excuse corruption and to betray the sacrifices of those who fought for a freer, fairer Bahamas. Let the Royal Commission of 1967 stand as a permanent warning: when leaders abuse their office for private enrichment, they forfeit the people’s trust and their place in history as honourable statesmen.

The United Bahamian Party (UBP) had been one of the main political parties in the Bahamas, governing the country since the advent of party politics in 1958, until it lost the 1967 general election to the opposition PLP. The UBP party’s leadership was predominantly white, while blacks made up most of the citizenry. Once out of power, its leaders decided that the party’s time was at an end, and they looked to the Free-PLP that abandoned emancipation, Bahamianization and sided with the oppressors to form a new party that would follow a conservative party line. The FNM, a direct descendant of the UBP, grew partly by uniting with the old UBP voter base.

I now must visit a significant chapter in Bahamian legal history—the 1972 murder of Raymond Barry Major, and the subsequent trial and execution of Philip Humes and Wendell Burrows. On September 5, 1972, Major lost his life to this tragic crime. This murder, allegedly orchestrated by the FNM, was a clear example of the lengths they were willing to go to maintain power and silence dissent. After being convicted of the murder, Humes and Burrows were executed two years later, on October 15, 1974, following a protracted legal process that included a stay of execution to allow for clemency petitions.

This case remains one of the more notable capital prosecutions of its era. Its legal trajectory—including the lengthy appeals and public response—reflects critical tensions within our justice system at the time. As we reflect on that period, it’s valuable to revisit such cases within our public discourse as part of our collective memory and to underscore how legal processes and public sentiment have evolved. Though slow, the evolution of our justice system is a beacon of hope for a fairer future.

But what has not been told is why Major was murdered. It was said that Major was tasked to destroy PLP property, strike fear in the PLP, and be promised a healthy payment, which he didn’t get from the unsavoury characters in the FNM. So Barry threatened to expose the UBP/FNM, as the story goes, the ‘hotheaded Wallace Whitfield “looked the other way” when the hierarchy of the FNM silenced Major for good. Philip Humes and Wendell Burrows were charged with the murder, tried and after much wrangling, executed two years later.

The summary of the two scenarios, of corruption and even murder, the FNM, a child of and partner of the UBP, which was exposed as corrupt to the core and where the Minister of Finance and Premier were clear perpetrators of selling the country for “filthy lucre and even resorting to murder to gain power, are embedded in our history. No one can say that they are above board when it is clear they would stop at nothing to gain an advantage.

How could we forget when Hubert Minnis and his cabinet sat at a table and witnessed a man sign someone else’s signature with the cams rolling? Forgery in broad daylight!

The FNM and UBP joined forces because ‘birds of a feather’ flock together. Their unity, not based on shared values but on shared interests, should raise suspicion and caution. They do not have clean hands, and their partnership clearly shows their shared history of corruption and misconduct.

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