UNCUT: Aggressive Shallowness: A Threat to Jamaica's Future

In 2024, Jamaica finds itself gripped by a cultural affliction that has grown more pronounced: aggressive shallowness. This phenomenon, which prizes style over substance, has seeped into the core of Jamaican society, shaping politics, education, popular culture, and even business. No longer content with being merely superficial, this shallowness has taken on an aggressive edge, pushing aside meaningful discourse and critical thought in favor of loud, empty posturing. It is a dangerous trend—one that threatens to undermine Jamaica's future at a time when deep thinking and collective action are needed most.

Aggressive shallowness thrives in spaces where appearance, image, and instant gratification dominate. In Jamaica, this is starkly evident in the world of reggae and dancehall music, which has long been a powerful medium for social commentary and resistance. Artists like Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and Burning Spear used their music to challenge oppression, promote unity, and inspire change. But today, much of the genre has shifted toward a shallow glorification of wealth, power, and status. Many contemporary dancehall artists, while highly talented, focus more on flaunting material success and imagined sexual prowess than on using their platform for meaningful reflection on the pressing issues of the day.

Take, for instance, the rise of artists like Alkaline, who is known for his catchy beats and hard-hitting lyrics, but whose songs often center on themes of personal power, luxury, and status. While there is certainly room for celebrating success, this trend reflects a broader shift in Jamaican culture toward valuing style over substance. The message conveyed is that what matters most is how you look, what you own, and how much influence you wield. The once-potent role of reggae as a voice for the downtrodden has, in many cases, been replaced by a more self-serving narrative of individual triumph and personal gain. The aggressive shallowness in music mirrors a wider societal shift where image trumps introspection.

This trend is not limited to music. The same superficiality has taken hold in education, where the focus has increasingly turned to image and prestige rather than real learning. Many of Jamaica's elite schools, institutions once known for fostering intellectual curiosity and moral integrity, now seem more preoccupied with maintaining a brand. Schools like Immaculate Conception High School, Westwood, and Titchfield—respected for their academic excellence—are often caught up in promoting their legacy rather than confronting the deeper problems within the education system. The result is that students are often pushed toward surface-level accomplishments, such as obtaining top exam scores or securing prestigious scholarships, without developing the critical thinking skills necessary for lifelong learning and societal contribution. 

This obsession with surface-level success also manifests in Jamaica’s broader culture. The promotion of businesses that cater to personal grooming and appearances has become a symbol of aggressive shallowness. Companies like Fontana Pharmacy or Ammar’s, which provide everything from beauty products to the latest fashion, thrive on the desire for a polished, perfect image. The booming hair, nail, and skin-care industry reflects a culture that places increasing value on how one looks rather than who one is. 

At the same time, real estate developers targeting swanky neighborhoods like Cherry Gardens, Beverly Hills, or Norbrook capitalize on the allure of status. These developments are marketed not just as homes, but as symbols of personal achievement. The prestige associated with owning property in these upscale areas has become part of a cultural narrative that equates success with being able to show off your assets. In this world, substance and community-building take a back seat to the appearance of upward mobility.

Jamaica’s aggressive shallowness is also on full display in the world of business, where corporate giants and popular brands invest heavily in promoting lifestyle over legacy. Consider companies like Sagicor and Proven Investments, which tout their financial services as pathways to personal wealth and security. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with promoting financial independence, the marketing often plays into a deeper cultural shift that equates material success with personal worth. In these advertisements, there’s an implicit message that having the right 'portfolio' or owning property in an upscale neighborhood is what defines you. This focus on individual wealth accumulation has contributed to a growing divide between those who can afford to participate in this image-driven culture and those left behind in poverty.

The aggressive shallowness that defines these cultural, educational, and economic spaces doesn’t just stop at promoting individual success. It demands validation, bullying dissenters or those who seek deeper conversations into silence. The dominance of form over substance creates a suffocating atmosphere where the appearance of competence is more important than actual competence. This has had a devastating effect on public discourse in Jamaica, where leaders and influencers who should be focused on addressing the country's many complex issues—ranging from climate change to educational reform—are instead locked in a constant performance, concerned more with how they are perceived than with making lasting change.

The most glaring example of this phenomenon in Jamaica today is in the political sphere. Prime Minister Andrew Holness, for example, has faced allegations of sudden unexplained wealth, but much of the public discourse has focused more on how he manages his image than on the substance of the accusations. This is aggressive shallowness at its peak—when political survival depends on the ability to control the narrative rather than on transparency, integrity, or accountability. It is a dangerous trend that erodes trust in leadership and further alienates citizens from the democratic process. 

The legacy of aggressive shallowness extends to how we treat one another. The erosion of empathy that accompanies this cultural shift is evident in the way we respond to social issues. Consider the treatment of Haitian refugees arriving in Jamaica or the everyday cruelty seen on our roads. In both cases, we see the hallmarks of aggressive shallowness—a lack of care for others, a dismissal of the deeper complexities of the situation, and an obsession with one’s own convenience or status. The rise of conspicuous consumption only heightens these problems, as people become more concerned with showing off their wealth than with contributing to the common good.

Jamaica’s culture of aggressive shallowness has deep roots in historical inequalities, but it is being exacerbated by modern technology and social media, which amplify the focus on personal image and status. The "likes" and "shares" that people accumulate on platforms like Instagram or TikTok become a form of social currency, encouraging people to prioritize how they look and what they own over what they contribute to society. This has real-world consequences, as it fosters a culture where selfishness, shallowness, and cruelty are rewarded, while empathy, thoughtfulness, and depth are pushed to the margins.

In a country that faces as many challenges as Jamaica does—violence, inequality, poverty, and a failing education system—we cannot afford to let aggressive shallowness dominate our national discourse. We need leaders, educators, artists, and business owners who are committed to real change, not just the appearance of it. The future of Jamaica depends on our ability to resist this cultural shift and reclaim a space for depth, introspection, and meaningful dialogue. Only by confronting the aggressive shallowness that has taken root can we hope to build a society that values substance over style, empathy over image, and progress over posturing..... And sets its face against false advertising by any of our universities or other tertiary institutions.

Perhaps, in Jamaica's national interest, columns such as this one and our newspaper editorials should soon be examining the question: Why do local universities like the University of the West Indies (UWI) suddenly rank so low in the QS, Times Higher Education (THE), and U.S. News rankings for 2025 compared to much less expensive schools in nearby countries such as Colombia or Panama?