There’s a well-known saying: “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” But, ladies and gentlemen of the jury of public opinion, let me present to you a close second: the greatest trick some politicians ever pulled was convincing the people that they’ve actually accomplished something—when they have done absolutely nothing of note. It’s a master class in political mimicry—sound without substance, presence without performance.

Enter Secret Squirrel—also known to the official record as the Prime Minister, the Right Honorable Philip “Brave” Davis. Now, before the PLP’s Crumbsnatchers Choir begins howling in defense of their great and affable shepherd, let me clarify: no, I am not calling Davis the devil. But I am suggesting that deception—intentional or by omission—is the main act in the Prime Minister’s political circus.

Yesterday in Parliament, The Poet, the Hon. Michael Pintard, leader of the opposition, took the floor like a literary warrior, and asked the one question Davis has dodged for over 30 years: What exactly have you done for Cat Island, Rum Cay, and San Salvador? The silence that followed was so thick, even the ghost of a pothole might have whispered, “Not me, boss.”

Davis’s reply? Hold your laughter now:
“…I hope that you noticed that I was re-elected. So I must be doing something.”

You could literally hear the sound of thousands of Bahamians side-eying their TV screens.

That’s it. That’s the defense. Not a single school, clinic, port, road, or investment project was mentioned—not even a pothole filled in haste. Just vibes. Apparently, the “something” that’s being done is so abstract and mysterious it defies articulation. It’s giving… spiritual representation. Ghost governance. Maybe the PM is operating in a realm we mortals can’t perceive—a fourth-dimensional MP.

Let us consult the record:

• Davis has served as MP for Cat Island, Rum Cay, and San Salvador for over 30 years.
• During that time, there has been no hospital, inadequate infrastructural development, and poor access to reliable utilities.
• And yes, it’s true that much of that time the Free National Movement was in power—but an MP’s job is not to merely exist in Parliament, it’s to advocate effectively, regardless of who is in charge.

Now, Davis insists his continued re-election is the ultimate validation. But that’s a slippery slope. By that logic, sugar should be declared a health food because it tastes good. Elections are a measure of popularity, not proof of productivity. Especially when the electorate is given no better option—or worse, when elections become a test of who can “politrick” better.

And oh, the irony! The very man now clutching his pearls over “politricking” is himself the reigning champion of that art form in the Family Islands. Want proof? His latest move was to attack Michael Pintard’s political playbook, “A Confidential Handbook for Politicians,” as if recognizing strategy in others somehow absolves the absence of results in oneself. But perhaps Davis is secretly a fan—after all, it’s the only blueprint around that seems to come with actual steps.

Now let’s be blunt—The PLP doesn’t fail because of policy; it fails because it is its policy to fail. Its leadership has turned self-congratulation into an art form and responsibility into an afterthought. And Davis, whether by complacency or calculation, has used his likability as camouflage for a legacy of legislative invisibility.

So no, Prime Minister Davis. Being re-elected is not proof of impact—it’s proof of inertia. It is, quite frankly, not enough to say “I must be doing something” and stop there. The people of Cat Island, Rum Cay, and San Salvador deserve better than “something.” They deserve specifics. And unless your “something” includes measurable development, equitable representation, and transformational policy, then perhaps your political magic trick has finally run its course.

And the curtain is lifting.

END