“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” – Matthew 7:3 (NIV)
The recent viral footage circulating from Jamaica College is deeply troubling.
The widely shared clip is raw, unsettling, and difficult to watch, capturing a moment of violence between students within the walls of one of the country’s most respected and storied institutions. It should disturb us, and it should provoke both outrage and reflection in equal measure, because anything less risks reducing the moment to spectacle rather than substance.
But before the condemnation becomes too convenient, it is worth asking a few more difficult, uncomfortable questions. The first question is this: are we reacting to what happened in the video, or to the belief that this kind of behaviour belongs somewhere else, and not within our own society? Spare the reflex of righteous indignation, or at least temper it with honesty. Yes, it is easy to describe the video as horrible, shameful, and reprehensible—and all of those adjectives apply—yet none of them, on their own, are sufficient to explain what we are truly seeing or what must now be confronted.
According to a statement from the Jamaica College Board of Management, the video captured a physical altercation that stemmed from an earlier incident in which a student admitted to taking items—including money, a jacket, and glasses—from other students and failing to fully return them despite prior agreements. The aggrieved students later confronted him on school grounds, reportedly forcing him into a bathroom to demand the outstanding items, at which point the confrontation escalated into the violence seen in the video. The school has condemned the behaviour as wholly unacceptable, launched an investigation, and referred all involved students to its Disciplinary Committee for appropriate action.
It was, notably, the second such report of alleged bullying at JC in recent weeks. On March 30, 2026, a report aired by Television Jamaica in its Prime Time newscast detailed an incident that was characterised as a case of bullying, drawing significant public attention and concern. That report was subsequently challenged by the school’s Board, which asserted that contemporaneous accounts and eyewitness statements differed materially from the narrative presented, raising important questions about context, verification, and the responsibility that accompanies reporting on matters of this nature.
Before we proceed further, let us establish clarity. This writer is not here to defend or apologise for Jamaica College or the students captured on video. As a proud alumnus, however, it must be acknowledged that the very institution now under scrutiny is the same one that instilled the discipline to think critically, to reason beyond the obvious, and to examine issues within their broader context rather than through the narrow lens of immediate emotion.
What makes this moment particularly unfortunate is not only the incident itself, but its timing. Jamaica College has, in recent months, been riding a well-earned wave of positive recognition—buoyed by standout performances at the ISSA Boys and Girls Championships, success in the Schools’ Challenge Quiz, and a broader resurgence of institutional pride. It is precisely in moments such as these, when an institution is elevated and its successes are most visible, that scrutiny becomes sharper, expectations rise, and judgment, at times, grows less forgiving.
The video itself captures a moment that is plainly unacceptable, and it should be treated as such without hesitation or qualification. At the same time, it is a moment presented without full context, and that absence matters more than we often care to admit. What is seen could represent something deeper and more systemic, or it could be a single, isolated incident that has been frozen in time and amplified beyond its immediate circumstances. The difficulty, and indeed the responsibility, lies in resisting the urge to draw definitive conclusions from a partial view, while still confronting the behaviour for what it is—wrong, harmful, and in need of response.
It was a repugnant video—difficult to watch not only because of what it showed, but because of what was absent. Moral discernment was missing. There were no “adults in the room” to step in, to declare that it was wrong, to stand up for the one being violated, and to interrupt what should never have been allowed to continue. Instead, what unfolded was not just an act, but a failure of presence and intervention, compounded by the unsettling reality that someone chose to record it and, with equal audacity, circulate it. If that were not troubling enough, what is harder—and far more necessary—is to move beyond the immediate reaction and confront what the moment actually represents.
What unfolded in that moment is not unique to one school, nor is it confined to one set of students. It is a reflection of something broader, something deeply embedded, and something that extends far beyond the walls of any classroom or the boundaries of any institution. Bullying, in its many forms, is not an anomaly. It is a pattern.
Globally, the data is sobering. A 2019 report by UNESCO found that nearly one in three students worldwide has experienced bullying in some form—physical, verbal, or psychological. More recent data from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention indicates that roughly one in three teenagers in the United States report being bullied within a given year, while cross-national studies spanning dozens of countries consistently place global prevalence between 10% and 30%, with some regions reporting even higher exposure.
This is not a Jamaican problem. It is not a Jamaica College problem. It is a human problem—one that cuts across geography, culture, and class, revealing something far less comfortable than we might prefer to admit. What we are witnessing in that clip is not an anomaly to be isolated and condemned from a distance, but a reflection—distorted, yes, but recognisable—of dynamics that exist, in quieter and less visible forms, within many of the spaces we occupy and the systems we sustain.
The question becomes less about where it happened and more about why it continues to happen.
There is yet another uncomfortable truth that must be acknowledged: rivalry has a way of shaping reaction. It is easier to condemn when the subject is not one’s own, and easier still to amplify failure when it does not
reflect back on familiar ground. As a result, some of the loudest voices in moments like these are not always the most objective. The same dynamic extends to parents, for whom the ability to “look beyond” an incident such as this becomes profoundly difficult when it is their child who appears in the video—whether as the violator or the violated—because in that moment, perspective gives way to protection, and objectivity is often overshadowed by emotion.
No one, in this space, holds the moral high ground.
Bullying is not the property of one school. It exists in many schools, in different forms, sometimes visible, often hidden. To pretend otherwise is to engage in a kind of selective honesty that serves neither the victims nor the broader goal of change.
More troubling still is the recognition that what happens in schools is rarely isolated from what happens outside of them. Children do not invent behaviour in a vacuum. They observe, they absorb, and they replicate. The intimidation, the aggression, the exertion of power over the vulnerable—these are not lessons taught solely in fields or playgrounds. They are modelled in homes, in communities, and, at times, in the highest offices of leadership.
Bullying is bullying, whether it originates in a schoolyard, a boardroom, the Houses of Parliament, or even the Oval Office.
This does not excuse the behaviour. It contextualises it.
There have been, tragically, moments when bullying has moved beyond cruelty and crossed into catastrophe. In Jamaica, recent incidents serve as a sobering reminder that what may begin as conflict within school walls can escalate with devastating consequences beyond them. Reports of a 13-year-old boy from Seaforth High School losing his life following a dispute that reportedly began on school grounds, the killing of a 16-year-old during an altercation at Ocho Rios High School, and the heartbreaking death of a 13-year-old girl in an incident linked to Green Pond High School all point to a reality that is difficult to confront but impossible to ignore. These are not isolated headlines to be consumed and forgotten; they are signals of a deeper issue that carries consequences far beyond emotional harm.
Internationally, the research reinforces what these incidents already suggest. Studies have consistently linked experiences of bullying with severe psychological distress, increased risk of depression, and, in some cases, violent retaliation. Work published in School Psychology Quarterly indicates that both victims and perpetrators of bullying face elevated risks of long-term social and behavioral challenges, underscoring that this is not a simple narrative of good and bad actors, but rather a complex and self-reinforcing cycle. When left unaddressed, that cycle does not dissipate on its own; it evolves, intensifies, and, in the most tragic instances, manifests in outcomes that no community can afford to accept.
There is also a difficult, often uncomfortable observation: many who bully have themselves been bullied. This is not a justification. It is an explanation that points to a cycle rather than a single act. And so, the response must be equally nuanced.
Calls for immediate expulsion, while emotionally satisfying, may not always represent the most effective long-term solution. Discipline is necessary. Accountability is essential. But there is also a case to be made for intervention that seeks to correct behaviour rather than simply remove it. Schools are not only places of instruction; they are environments of development. The goal is not only to punish wrongdoing, but to prevent its recurrence and, where possible, to redirect those involved toward a more constructive path.
We cannot afford to sweep bullying aside, because the consequences rarely remain contained. What begins within school walls can spill into the streets, escalating into outcomes far more severe than the original conflict. Simply expelling those involved, without any meaningful attempt at intervention or rehabilitation, risks displacing the problem rather than resolving it. At the same time, equal attention must be given to the student who is being harmed. The psychological toll of sustained bullying is well documented, with links to depression, self-harm, and, in the most tragic cases, suicide. When that pain is ignored or minimised, the damage deepens in ways that are not always immediately visible.
What of the thousands of incidents of bullying that are not caught on video?
History is filled with individuals who made poor choices in youth and went on to become productive, even exemplary, members of society. That possibility cannot be dismissed, even in the face of deeply troubling behaviour. What ultimately defines individuals is not the absence of failure, but their willingness to confront it, take responsibility, and evolve.
What is required now is not outrage alone, but action.
A zero-tolerance approach to bullying must move beyond rhetoric and into practice. That means clear policies, consistent enforcement, and, critically, education—teaching students not only that bullying is wrong, but why it is harmful, and how to engage with one another in ways that reflect respect and empathy. It also means creating safe channels for reporting, ensuring that victims are supported, and that intervention occurs before incidents escalate.
To its credit, Jamaica College has already begun to respond—not with platitudes, but with structure. Among the measures being introduced is an attitudes and behavioural values course designed to reinforce respect, accountability, and conflict resolution. This is a meaningful shift, because it acknowledges something often overlooked: young people are not born knowing how to navigate conflict; they must be taught.
Self-righteousness will not solve this problem, but understanding might.
This writer was bullied at school—yes, at this very institution—and it was personal, relentless, and at moments deeply frightening. It was not a harmless rite of passage, and it did not make one stronger in the casual way that is so often implied. What it did instead was leave a lasting imprint, offering hard lessons about the damage sustained intimidation can inflict and the necessity of empathy, courage, and accountability if that cycle is ever to be broken for someone else.
JC, at the end of the day, will be OK. The school has distinguished itself as an institution that consistently pushes beyond traditional academic boundaries, positioning itself as a leader in innovation and holistic development. Its pioneering aviation programme, its expanding STEM initiatives, and its commitment to leadership development reflect an institution that is not static, but dynamic—one that continues to evolve while shaping well-rounded young men equipped for the complexities of the modern world.
There is a natural temptation, in moments like these, to distance ourselves from what we see, to frame it as an aberration rather than confront it as a reflection. Yet if this moment is to carry any real meaning, it must do more than provoke condemnation; it must demand introspection and compel change.
Because the truth, uncomfortable as it may be, is that the seeds of what we witnessed do not reside in one place alone. They take root wherever power is misused, wherever empathy is absent, and wherever silence creates the space for harm to persist unchecked.
The task, then, is not simply to react to a video. It is to confront and reshape the environment that allowed it to happen in the first place. And that responsibility, whether acknowledged or not, belongs to all of us.
Douglas Levermore, MBA, JP, is an independent management consultant and the founding Executive Director of Jamaica’s Public Investment Management Secretariat (PIMSEC)—the government unit established to strengthen project appraisal, fiscal discipline, and oversight of public investment, now known as the Public Investment Appraisal Branch (PIAB) within the Ministry of Finance and the Public Service. He also serves as a FINRA arbitrator and a commissioned Notary Public in the Commonwealth of Virginia. Douglas writes on social issues, leadership, management lessons, and organisational strategy, drawing on extensive real-world experience across both the public and private sectors.
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