Opposition Leader’s Labour Day Message
[Labour Day Message from Opposition Leader Ben Smith]
Good afternoon, everyone.
I want to start with something simple. Bermuda is small. We know that. You can drive from one end of the Island to the other in less time than it takes some people to decide what they’re having for dinner.
We see the same faces at the grocery store. We meet our neighbours at the bus stop.
Our children go to the same schools. We cheer at the same sporting events. We celebrate the same holidays.
And yet, often times, we can feel so vastly different.
Different backgrounds. Different experiences. Different cultures. Different opinions about where Bermuda has been, where it is now, and where it should go.
We cannot continue to ignore this with veiled smiles…instead address it with open hearts and respectful discourse.
I believe something very strongly:
Our differences do not have to divide us. They can be what makes us stronger…because Bermuda has always been a place shaped by people coming together.
Our culture has been built over time—through the contributions of Bermudians from different races and backgrounds.
We hear it in our music. We taste it in our food. We see it in our traditions. We feel it in the way we celebrate, the way we look after our families, and the way we show up for one another when it matters.
That is our culture. Not one story. Many stories woven together.
And I think that’s important, because sometimes when we talk about diversity, we make it sound like something complicated.
It isn’t. Diversity is your neighbour.
It’s the person standing beside you today. It’s the teacher who teaches your child. It’s the person who cuts your grass. It’s the nurse who looks after your family. It’s the small business owner trying to keep the doors open. It’s the young person trying to figure out what their future looks like. It’s the senior who has spent decades watching Bermuda change.
Diversity is not an idea. It’s us.
And if we are serious about building a stronger Bermuda, then we have to learn how to live with our differences without losing our sense of community. Let me be clear…we don’t have to agree on everything.
We can disagree. We can debate. We can challenge one another. But we should never lose sight of the fact that, at the end of that conversation, we still have to live next door to each other.
We still have to raise our children here. We still have to look after our elderly. We still have to protect this beautiful Island.
Bermudians understand resilience.
We’ve seen hurricanes come through and tear things apart. We’ve watched families pick themselves up. We’ve seen neighbours checking on neighbours. We’ve seen people clearing roads, sharing food, offering a generator, making a phone call, opening a door.
And nobody asks, “What’s your background?”
When somebody needs help, we help. That’s the Bermuda I believe in.
And perhaps the greatest lesson in resilience is that it isn’t always about being strong on your own. Sometimes resilience is knowing when to reach out. Sometimes it is having the humility to say, “I need some help.” And sometimes it is simply refusing to give up on each other.
So when we talk about the future of Bermuda, I don’t think we should only ask:
“What are we going to build?”
I think we also need to ask: ”Who are we going to build it with?”
Because progress that leaves people behind isn’t really progress.
And a community that forgets its history will struggle to understand its future. We need to preserve the traditions that make us Bermudian. We need to teach our young people where we came from. We need to respect the stories of those who came before us—even when those stories are uncomfortable.
And we need to make room for the people who are creating the next chapter.
That means listening. Not just waiting for our turn to speak.
But listening to our young people. Listening to our seniors. Listening to working families. Listening to people who feel overlooked. Listening to people whose experiences are different from our own.
Because you don’t have to share someone’s experience to respect it.
And you don’t have to agree with someone’s perspective to hear them.
That’s how we begin to build trust. And trust is what holds a community together.
So what does that look like?
I don’t think it means everybody looking the same or thinking the same. And I certainly don’t think it means pretending that our differences don’t exist.
Unity means we can acknowledge our differences—and still choose each other. It means we can be proud of where we come from while making room for somebody else’s story. It means we can say, “This is my Bermuda,” while understanding that somebody else can say the same thing.
And both can be true. That is the opportunity in front of us. Not to erase our differences. But to connect them.
We don’t have to be the same to stand together. We just have to remember that we belong to one another. That is our strength. That is our resilience. And that is the Bermuda I believe we can build together.
Thank you.
