THE GATHERING OF PARLIAMENTARIANS

 

THE GATHERING OF PARLIAMENTARIANS

Ours is a society increasingly defined by lists. There is the Life List, where we record our dreams and ambitions; the Bucket List, which reminds us of the experiences we hope to embrace before time runs out; and then there is the Candidates List—the gateway to the hallowed chambers of Guyana's Parliament.

But what of the names appearing on that final list? Do they represent fresh minds, unburdened by the prejudices and political divisions of the past? Do they bring new ideas, integrity, and a genuine commitment to national progress? Or are we simply recycling the same political loyalties, inherited grievances, and familiar faces?

There was a time when Parliament was regarded as an institution of dignity and integrity, where reasoned debate and the collective wisdom of elected representatives shaped the destiny of a nation. Today, too often, its proceedings are overshadowed by confrontation, political expediency, and broken promises.

If we are serious about rewriting Guyana's future, perhaps we must begin by reconsidering who we send to represent us.

On Monday, October 11, 1834, at the stroke of noon, Damon was hanged before the public buildings in Georgetown. The execution was a grim public spectacle, intended to demonstrate the authority of British colonial justice and warn the population of the consequences of defiance.

The building and grounds represented the emerging centre of colonial administration in British Guiana, a seat of imperial authority from which decisions affecting the lives of enslaved Africans and, later, indentured Indians would be made. It was a symbol of a political order in which the interests of the colonial establishment took precedence over the dignity and aspirations of the people.

Today, as we listen to the rhetoric echoing through these parliamentary chambers, we should remember the sacrifices of Damon and Quamina. Their struggles were different, but both were rooted in the fundamental human desire for justice, dignity, and freedom.

They could scarcely have imagined that generations later, in a Parliament established to represent the people, the ideals for which they struggled would still be threatened by political division and partisan hostility.

The Speaker of the House occupies a position of considerable constitutional importance. That office must stand above political allegiance, safeguarding parliamentary procedure, fairness, and the rights of every elected representative. When impartiality is questioned, the authority of the entire institution suffers.

Such conduct does not go unnoticed by the people. It breeds frustration, deepens mistrust, and diminishes respect for the very institution entrusted with protecting democratic principles.

Africans and Indians, together with our Indigenous brothers and sisters, have inherited a shared history of struggle. Our ancestors endured slavery, indentureship, dispossession, and colonial exploitation. Their sacrifices should have taught us that national unity is not a political slogan but a responsibility.

Yet, we continue to allow partisan interests to divide us.

The Timehri Action Party proposes a different course.

We represent a new generation of political thinking—one founded on competence, integrity, opportunity, and national inclusion. We seek representatives from all 65 electoral districts who understand that Parliament is not a prize to be won, but a public trust to be honoured.

We are not entering politics merely to occupy seats or acquire power. We are entering to restore confidence in government, create opportunities for our people, and build a Guyana in which every citizen has a meaningful stake.

The future of Guyana must belong to all Guyanese.

B.G. Bhagi

 

SEARCH FOR NATIONAL UNITY

 

The Search for National Unity, Justice, and a People's Movement

The Guyanese diaspora emerged, in large measure, from communities shaped by persecution, political instability, and ethnic conflict. Scattered across the globe, Guyanese have established themselves in distinct communities, carrying with them the memories of their homeland. They follow its political developments closely, often with a nationalism that remains strong despite the distance separating them from the country of their birth.

In September 1967, I immigrated to Ontario, Canada. Guyana had gained independence on May 26, 1966, with Forbes Burnham as Prime Minister. Yet independence did not automatically deliver the national unity, political freedom, or collective purpose that so many Guyanese had hoped to achieve.

Our decolonisation unfolded against the ideological struggle of the Cold War. Within the corridors of Whitehall, the Oval Office, and the Kremlin, Guyana's people became pawns in a contest between competing political interests. British and American interventions, alongside domestic political rivalries, contributed to an environment in which ethnic tensions between the descendants of Africans and Indians became increasingly destructive.

Nationalism was never allowed to become the common road on which all Guyanese could travel together.

Instead, our politics became dominated by the rivalry between two men: Forbes Burnham, the Afro-Guyanese leader of the People's National Congress (PNC), and Dr. Cheddi Jagan, the Indo-Guyanese leader of the People's Progressive Party (PPP). Their political contest, amplified by propaganda and ethnic loyalties, left deep wounds in the communities they represented.

The consequences were borne not by the leaders alone, but by ordinary people. Indians turned against Blacks, and Blacks turned against Indians. Suspicion replaced trust, and political allegiance increasingly followed ethnic identity.

Both men are now dead. One has returned to the dust of the earth; the other rests in a crypt. Yet their political legacies remain alive in generations of Guyanese, both at home and abroad.

We continue to encounter those legacies in village disturbances, urban riots, massacres, the tragedy of Wismar, the Son Chapman explosion, displacement, and migration. These events are not merely entries in our history books. They are wounds carried by families and communities, passed from one generation to the next.

The stories told within the diaspora are often incomplete, partisan, or distorted. But denying the diaspora the right to speak about its experiences would be to repeat the very politics that drove many Guyanese to seek refuge and opportunity in foreign lands.

Even abroad, the shadow of political persecution has not entirely disappeared. Concerns about surveillance and intimidation, reminiscent of the Burnham-Jagan era, have resurfaced in discussions within Guyanese communities in Brooklyn, New York. I have written about these developments on my blog, Timehri Today, and included my observations in these pages.

Many diasporas are formed when people flee persecution or seek a better life elsewhere. Yet the Guyanese diaspora has another enduring characteristic: a desire to give something back to the homeland. Again and again, Guyanese abroad express their disappointment when promises of inclusion, development, and national progress remain unfulfilled.

Their disappointment should not be dismissed. It should be understood as evidence that the bond between the diaspora and Guyana remains alive.

Brooklyn: A Community Divided

In Brooklyn, concerns about persecution and discrimination have become part of the discussion surrounding Guyanese political life.

Businesses were reportedly singled out and placed on boycott lists. When I watched a video of the President's visit, however, I saw a cordial gathering of Guyanese welcoming a fellow countryman. The scene reminded me of the respectful interactions between Afro-Guyanese people that I remember from the 1950s.

Black activists themselves have often spoken fondly of an earlier period when mutual respect was more evident in their communities.

What I saw was a thriving community, one that appeared to share a desire for a progressive Guyana.

A boycott, in my view, was unnecessary. Political disagreements should not become instruments of collective punishment against businesses or individuals because of their perceived political or ethnic associations. Discrimination at home should not be exported to Brooklyn, nor should the diaspora become another battleground for Guyana's unresolved divisions.

We must learn our history thoroughly enough to distinguish fact from propaganda and legitimate criticism from prejudice.

Our history has too often been divided into separate accounts of Black history, Indian history, and Portuguese history. These histories are important, but they must also be understood as parts of a larger national story.

We need a history of Guyana—a history that recognises the experiences, contributions, suffering, and aspirations of all its peoples.

The Diaspora and the Crisis of Political Leadership

The recent congress of the People's Progressive Party, and the results of its Central Committee elections, raise troubling questions about the future of political leadership in Guyana.

The internal selection of party leaders has consequences far beyond the party itself. It affects the choices available to voters and the country's prospects for democratic renewal.

The PPP's process of democratic centralism, as I understand it, leaves substantial questions about the extent to which competing political aspirations within the party can influence the eventual presidential choice. If members feel unable to express their views without fear of exclusion or retaliation, the democratic character of the process is weakened.

The public deserves greater transparency and meaningful participation in decisions that will shape the country's future.

Opposition supporters may already distrust the ruling party. But the more troubling question concerns ordinary PPP supporters themselves. Do they have a meaningful voice in determining the direction of their party, or are they expected simply to follow decisions made by those at the top?

When an election is over, citizens should not be forgotten until the next campaign begins.

How can party members accept a process in which their political aspirations appear to carry so little weight? Where is the respect for their judgement? And if ordinary party members are denied a meaningful voice, what hope is there for the ordinary citizen?

Such developments could create an opportunity for the People's National Congress to present itself as a credible alternative. But that opportunity will be wasted unless the PNC is prepared to change, embrace progressive ideas, and demonstrate that it can earn the confidence of voters beyond its traditional support base.

The party must be creative, inclusive, and willing to engage Indo-Guyanese voters on policies rather than ethnic loyalties.

The diaspora, particularly those who remain engaged in Guyana's political future, can encourage that transformation.

The Six Thousand Votes and the Lost Opportunity

The 2015 general election demonstrated that a relatively small number of voters could determine the balance of political power in Guyana. The APNU-AFC coalition secured a one-seat parliamentary majority, with the support of voters who crossed traditional political and ethnic boundaries.

In a country where Afro-Guyanese voters have often supported the PNC and Indo-Guyanese voters have often supported the PPP, those voters represented something important: the possibility of choosing a government according to conscience rather than inherited political allegiance.

Their votes carried the promise of a different political culture.

Yet the coalition government failed, in my assessment, to fulfil that promise. Instead of demonstrating the humility and inclusiveness expected of a government elected by such a narrow margin, it became embroiled in confrontational politics and displayed contempt towards the parliamentary opposition.

The government also attempted to remain in office following the passage of a no-confidence motion, leading to a prolonged constitutional and political crisis.

The lesson is clear. Winning an election is not the same as earning the lasting trust of a nation.

The events surrounding the 2020 election deepened those concerns. I recall an incident at the main gate of the Guyana Elections Commission (GECOM) compound after the polls had closed.

Three elderly women and an elderly man, all Afro-Guyanese, approached the gate carrying a basket. A younger Afro-Guyanese man accepted it from them over the gate, despite objections from an Indo-Guyanese man standing nearby.

The Indo-Guyanese man protested that the action was not permitted and insisted that it was illegal. The others replied that the basket contained dinner for the staff. They continued despite his objections, and when they realised that he was filming the incident, the elderly man moved towards him and sprayed a liquid substance in his direction. The man avoided it and was chased away.

I recount this incident because it reflected the atmosphere of mistrust that surrounded the electoral process. The circumstances raised questions about impartiality, accountability, and the conduct of those involved.

When political opponents cannot trust one another, even ordinary actions become grounds for suspicion. When citizens lose confidence in the institutions responsible for safeguarding their votes, the entire democratic process is endangered.

The narrow electoral margins of 2015 and the events of 2020 should have compelled our political leaders to reconsider their approach to governance.

Instead, the country remains caught in a cycle of fear and mistrust.

An Independent Voice for the Diaspora

Both the PPP and the PNC have spoken about the importance of the diaspora. A government department has even been established to address diaspora affairs. Yet a department bearing that name is not enough if Guyanese abroad have little influence over national policy or no effective means of presenting their collective concerns.

The diaspora needs an independent organisation, supported by a permanent secretariat in Georgetown, to gather public opinion, facilitate constructive dialogue, and promote policies that serve the national interest.

Its purpose should not be to become an extension of either political party. It should provide an independent platform through which Guyanese abroad and at home can contribute to national development.

Such an organisation could help bring together professionals, businesspeople, workers, community leaders, academics, and ordinary citizens. It could identify common priorities, encourage evidence-based policy discussions, and hold successive governments accountable for their commitments.

The upcoming PNC congress should also confront an unavoidable political reality: no party can build a durable national future by relying exclusively on its traditional ethnic constituency.

If the PNC hopes to form a government that represents Guyana as a whole, it must develop a credible approach to winning the confidence of Indo-Guyanese voters. That approach should be discussed openly among delegates and should be grounded in policies, representation, and guarantees of equal treatment.

Diaspora participants should encourage the party to recognise that political inclusion is not a concession to another ethnic group. It is a requirement of democratic government.

The APNU-AFC coalition once had an opportunity to demonstrate this principle. Its electoral arrangement offered the prospect of a government committed to accommodating the aspirations of citizens across the political divide. Many voters placed their trust in that possibility.

That trust was not adequately rewarded.

In Guyana, the contributions of ordinary citizens are too often forgotten once politicians acquire power. Citizens who cast their votes in the hope of a more inclusive society find themselves excluded from the decisions that affect their lives.

Before an election, politicians seek the people. After an election, too many behave as though they have risen above them.

The ordinary citizen becomes an extraordinary citizen only for the brief moment when a vote is needed. Once elected, those entrusted with power begin to behave like rulers looking down from the clouds upon mere mortals.

This is a betrayal of democratic responsibility.

Beyond the Politics of Race

We remain too deeply entrenched in racial politics to recognise the harm we inflict upon our own progress.

The early years of PNC rule saw programmes and policies that, in some respects, reflected ideas also associated with the PPP. Yet the benefits of political favour were not shared equally. Those connected to the ruling establishment often prospered, while many ordinary citizens struggled.

Today, critics of the PPP similarly argue that political favouritism benefits a relatively small circle of families and associates. Such allegations deserve scrutiny, transparency, and evidence rather than unquestioning acceptance.

The underlying problem, however, extends beyond either party.

Whether under a PNC-led or PPP-led government, citizens continue to complain of unequal treatment, inadequate justice, corruption, and a lack of accountability. For many, the experience of government is not one of security and fairness but of uncertainty about whether the law will protect them equally.

In 1992, when Cheddi Jagan returned to office following the first widely recognised free and fair general election since independence, Guyana had an opportunity to begin a new chapter.

One might reasonably have expected the new administration to pursue a broad national arrangement, bringing political opponents into a government committed to overcoming racial divisions. Jagan had spoken about national cooperation, and the country desperately needed a framework that could move it away from the politics of ethnic confrontation.

Yet a national front government did not emerge.

The PPP/C assumed office, and the opportunity to build a broader arrangement across political lines was lost.

The 1992 election nevertheless remains a landmark. It restored the possibility that citizens could choose their government through a credible electoral process. That achievement should have been treated as a foundation for national reconciliation.

Even if the PPP secured power primarily through the support of Indo-Guyanese voters, the government had a responsibility to serve every citizen and reward the public's trust through fair and inclusive governance.

The failure to establish a durable culture of national cooperation continues to haunt us.

But the possibility of a different future has not disappeared.

Citizens must engage one another, organise around common interests, and insist that political leaders answer for their decisions. Power must be treated as a public trust, not a private possession.

We have seen both the PPP and the PNC exercise power. Neither party should be beyond criticism, and neither should be permitted to claim exclusive ownership of Guyana.

Indo-Guyanese citizens must recognise that the ordinary Afro-Guyanese citizen is not responsible for every discriminatory policy implemented by a PNC government. The PNC regime introduced policies that harmed citizens, including restrictions affecting access to certain food items. Responsibility for those policies must be distinguished from the identity of ordinary people who may have opposed them or suffered under them.

Likewise, Afro-Guyanese citizens must recognise that the ordinary Indo-Guyanese citizen is not responsible for every act of discrimination or political favouritism attributed to a PPP government.

Political parties and their leaders must be held accountable for their actions. Entire communities must not be condemned for the conduct of those who claim to represent them.

This distinction is essential if we are to escape the cycle of collective blame.

Afro-Guyanese and Indo-Guyanese must also work together to support the development and empowerment of Amerindian communities, alongside the Portuguese, Chinese, and other groups that form part of Guyana's diverse society.

National development cannot be built by one community at the expense of another. Our future depends upon recognising that the welfare of each group is connected to the welfare of the whole nation.

The Voices That Keep Us Divided

The angry outbursts of politicians and activists reveal how deeply racial suspicion continues to shape our political discourse.

From within the PPP has come the lament, expressed in ethnic terms, that others do not like Indo-Guyanese people. From the opposition side, accusations of murder and questions about why Indians should vote for a particular party have similarly exposed the bitterness that colours political debate.

These statements do more than express anger. They reinforce the belief that political choices are determined by ethnicity rather than by policies, competence, integrity, or a government's record.

The question we should ask is not which ethnic group dislikes another. It is why our political system continues to reward those who exploit such divisions.

Why should a citizen be expected to vote for a party simply because its leaders share that citizen's ethnic background? Why should a voter be treated as a traitor for supporting a candidate from another community?

Democracy requires freedom of judgement. It requires the right to disagree, to change one's mind, and to demand better government.

The future looks bleak when political identity becomes more important than justice. Yet despair cannot be our final answer.

Honesty has become an irritant in a political culture where inconvenient truths are often unwelcome. Nevertheless, I intend to speak without prejudice, even when the subject is uncomfortable.

Race and culture continue to stand as barriers before the development of a common Guyanese nationalism.

At times, prominent political voices suggest that governing the country is the rightful inheritance of a particular community, regardless of the diversity of the population. Such thinking has persisted for generations, taking new forms while retaining its underlying assumptions.

Many of the people who once promoted these ideas have passed away. Their arguments, however, continue to echo through the words of those who have inherited their political loyalties.

History has taught us too little.

After decades of political struggle, we remain prisoners of lessons we have repeatedly refused to learn.

There are still influential voices that encourage confrontation, urge political supporters to disregard constitutional limits, or suggest that a party should remain in power without a legitimate mandate. Such rhetoric is dangerous because it undermines the very institutions that protect every citizen, regardless of ethnicity or political allegiance.

No political objective can justify the abandonment of constitutional government.

Have we forgotten Wismar and the suffering associated with its violence? Have we forgotten the Son Chapman explosion and the lasting pain surrounding that tragedy? The memories of such events should remind us of the consequences of political extremism, not become weapons to be used against present-day communities.

We must remember the victims without turning their suffering into a licence for new hatred.

And we must ask an important question: do the loudest voices among Afro-Guyanese people truly represent the views of the entire community?

I find it difficult to believe that they do. Nor should the loudest voices within any community be allowed to define its character. Those who call for division should be challenged by reasoned argument and the courage of fellow citizens to speak out.

Silence can be mistaken for consent. It is therefore the responsibility of moderate, thoughtful Guyanese to make their voices heard.

Independence Without National Unity

On May 26, 2024, Guyana marked fifty-eight years since the Union Jack was lowered and the Golden Arrowhead was raised in its place.

I could not help asking myself: where is the pride that should accompany such an anniversary? Where is the collective joy of a people looking towards the future beneath their national flag? Why does our national anthem so often seem unable to stir a shared sense of belonging?

I remember the Independence Movement and the speeches that filled the Rosignol Society Hall with conviction and purpose. Those were days of expectation. We had dreams, plans, and a belief that we could shape our own destiny.

Independence represented more than the transfer of political authority. It was supposed to mark the beginning of a national project in which the people of Guyana would determine their future together.

Yet the promise remains unfulfilled.

Fifty-eight years of independence have brought enormous changes, but they have also exposed squandered opportunities, political instability, and persistent suffering.

What have we become as a nation?

Twenty-eight years of PNC government. Twenty-three years of PPP government. Five years of APNU-AFC coalition government. And now, the PPP once again holds office.

These periods represent different political experiences, but they have not resolved the central problem that confronts us: Guyana has yet to establish a durable political culture in which national interest takes precedence over ethnic loyalty and partisan advantage.

It is time for a People's Movement.

The People's Movement: An Alternative for Guyana

The People's Movement I envision must be rooted in the popular will—the collective voice of citizens who want a country that is peaceful, prosperous, fair, and inclusive.

It must belong to the people, not to a single political leader, ethnic community, or established party.

It begins with you and me.

Guyana needs an independent civic force, one that can rise above the confrontational politics of the established parties and encourage citizens to work towards common objectives.

Our leadership is in crisis. For too long, the country has been trapped in cycles of political hostility, as though peace and cooperation were beyond our reach.

Extremist rhetoric has brought us to a troubling crossroads. Yet elected politicians do not control every aspect of our lives. The greater part of our national future depends upon what citizens do in their workplaces, villages, neighbourhoods, businesses, schools, and communities.

If we dream of better days, we must learn to dream together.

We need a citizen-driven response to the decisions of elected officials and the influence of powerful interests that operate beyond ordinary public scrutiny.

Citizens must be organised, informed, and prepared to participate. They must be willing to challenge injustice while rejecting the temptation to replace one form of intolerance with another.

Do you not deserve a place in this world?

Many Guyanese have immigrated abroad in search of security, opportunity, and dignity. They have worked hard to establish themselves in new countries, often overcoming considerable obstacles.

But why should leaving Guyana be the only way to achieve a better life?

The dream of a secure and prosperous future should be possible in the country of our birth. Guyana has the resources, the people, and the potential to provide meaningful opportunities for its citizens. What remains necessary is the political will to ensure that those opportunities are shared fairly.

Pause for a moment. Listen to the people around you. Observe the anxieties of a divided nation. Consider the frustration of young people who question whether they have a future at home.

Something essential has been lost when those entrusted with public power appear disconnected from the hopes and concerns of the people they govern.

Why the anger? Why the suspicion? Why must every political disagreement become another contest between ethnic groups?

There is an alternative.

It is a calmer path, one that values dialogue over confrontation and progress over resentment. It requires the courage to reject the politics of inherited hatred and the wisdom to recognise the humanity of those with whom we disagree.

Imagine a society in which young people are guided by purpose, education, skills, and opportunity. Imagine a generation that inherits a country built on cooperation rather than division.

Guyana, the land of many waters, possesses extraordinary potential. Our agricultural lands can flourish. Our industries can expand. Our natural wealth can support education, infrastructure, healthcare, and productive employment. Our people can improve their lives while contributing to the welfare of others beyond our borders.

But prosperity must be measured by more than national revenue or the wealth of a fortunate few. It must also be measured by whether ordinary citizens can live with dignity, whether young people can build meaningful careers, and whether every community has a fair opportunity to progress.

This is the responsibility we must pass on to our youth. The future belongs to them, but we must help create the conditions in which they can succeed.

A leap of faith is necessary—not blind faith in politicians, but faith in our collective capacity to change the direction of our country.

Hatred leads nowhere. Hatred produces more hatred, and each generation inherits the burden of the previous generation's bitterness.

Yet the distance between a society consumed by division and one guided by compassion may not be as great as we imagine. The first step is to recognise that change begins with our own choices.

Finding one's place in the world is a beautiful thing. So is building a country in which others can find theirs.

Time sometimes returns to us the wisdom we have forgotten. Every generation is presented with moments when it can choose a different path. We must not allow ours to pass without acting.

Speak the truth, even when it is unwelcome. Let our words reflect conscience, fairness, and a desire for justice. But words alone are insufficient. We must translate our convictions into action.

We all want a peaceful, progressive, and tolerant nation. There is sufficient potential in Guyana for its people to prosper and for the country to contribute meaningfully to the well-being of those in need beyond its borders.

Our objectives should be clear:

• Unite across ethnic and political divisions.
• Embrace cultural differences without allowing them to become political weapons.
• Establish safety, security, and equal justice under the law.
• Demand transparency and accountability from every government.
• Create opportunities for employment, education, entrepreneurship, and skills development.
• Balance individual freedom with mutual respect and responsibility.
• Give young people a meaningful voice in shaping the country's future.
• Make national development a shared undertaking rather than the privilege of a favoured few.

We must awaken the better angels of our nature.

The past continues to walk in the footsteps of the present. Unless we understand that connection, we will remain trapped in the same arguments, repeating the same mistakes while expecting different results.

The true power of Guyana does not rest exclusively in the hands of political elites. It rests in the collective strength of its people, particularly those whose struggles are often overlooked: the workers, farmers, small business owners, unemployed citizens, and impoverished families who sustain the country through their daily efforts.

Yet too many ordinary citizens underestimate their influence. They may believe that one vote cannot make a difference. But when thousands of citizens make their choices according to conscience, their combined power can reshape the political landscape.

For decades, Guyanese have faced the same dilemma. At every election, political parties promise solutions, prosperity, and a better future. Once in office, too many become absorbed in retaining power rather than fulfilling their obligations to the people.

This time, we must demand something different.

We must move beyond the assumption that our future depends entirely upon which established party wins the next election. Elections are essential, but democracy must continue between elections through public participation, independent civic organisations, informed debate, and sustained accountability.

A People's Movement should not be another instrument for replacing one political elite with another. It should be a means of empowering citizens to influence the national agenda, insist on constitutional government, and demand policies that serve all Guyanese.

Its success must be judged not by the fortunes of a particular leader, but by whether it helps build a country in which people of every background can live, work, and prosper together.

This is the challenge before the diaspora and the people at home. Those who live abroad can contribute their knowledge, experience, resources, and independent perspectives. Those who remain in Guyana must be central to the movement, because it is they who experience the consequences of government decisions every day.

Neither group should claim to speak for the other. They must work in partnership, united by a common commitment to Guyana's future.

The choice before us is not between one ethnic group and another, nor simply between the PPP and the PNC. It is between continuing along the familiar road of division and creating a new political culture grounded in justice, unity, and responsibility.

This time, the answer cannot be left to politicians alone.

This time, the answer is YOU.

God bless Guyana.

 

THE DIASPORA.

 

The Diaspora: A Nation Beyond Its Borders

For decades, the Guyanese diaspora has been an influential extension of the homeland. Since the 1950s, successive waves of Guyanese emigrants have established communities across North America and Britain, particularly in Toronto, London, and Brooklyn. Though separated from their birthplace by thousands of miles, many have remained deeply connected to Guyana’s political, economic, and social life.

I call this community Region 11—an unofficial region whose influence extends beyond Guyana’s geographical boundaries. Its members have contributed financially to families at home, supported political movements, participated in national debates, and influenced the direction of successive governments.

The political significance of this diaspora is not new. The People’s National Congress (PNC), under Forbes Burnham, recognised the importance of overseas Guyanese communities. Later, the return of the People’s Progressive Party (PPP) to office in 1992 did not diminish the diaspora’s political relevance. Instead, overseas communities continued to attract the attention of political leaders seeking support, influence, and legitimacy.

Brooklyn, Toronto, and London became important meeting places where Guyana’s political rivalries were debated and national loyalties were tested. Successive administrations cultivated relationships with overseas communities, recognising that the diaspora could contribute not only financial resources but also political influence.

Yet an important question remains: Has Region 11 used its collective influence to secure the national transformation that Guyana needs?

Beyond Boycotts: From Reaction to Responsible Action

In 2024, President Irfaan Ali’s visit to Brooklyn became a source of controversy. Calls emerged on social media for boycotts of businesses that had hosted the President during his walkabout. For those advocating such action, the boycott was a means of protesting government policies, perceived political favouritism, and injustices at home.

But is a boycott the most effective way for the diaspora to exercise its influence?

Political protest has its place in a democracy. Citizens have the right to withhold their support from businesses and institutions whose conduct they oppose. However, a protest must be judged by its objectives, its effectiveness, and its consequences. If it merely deepens divisions within the Guyanese community abroad, it may weaken the very influence that Region 11 needs to exercise.

History offers lessons worth examining. Boycotts and other forms of economic protest in colonial British Guiana confronted established commercial interests, including D’Aguiar’s Imperial House. Such episodes remind us that challenging powerful institutions requires more than anger; it requires organisation, sustained public engagement, and a clear strategy.

The diaspora must therefore decide whether it wishes to remain an audience for Guyana’s political disputes or become an organised force capable of influencing national policy.

Our strength will not be measured by the number of businesses we boycott or the volume of our online arguments. It will be measured by our ability to demand accountability, promote economic opportunity, and bring citizens together around a common national purpose.

Understanding the Roots of Division

Much of Guyana’s political tension cannot be understood without examining its colonial history.

When the territories that became British Guiana came under British rule, the colonial administration sought to sustain and expand the plantation economy. The movement of people, the organisation of labour, and the distribution of economic opportunity were shaped by the demands of colonial production.

Emancipation brought freedom to enslaved Africans, but it did not bring economic equality. Many formerly enslaved people pooled their savings, purchased land, and established villages. Through agriculture, Sunday markets, and collective effort, they created communities that offered a measure of independence from the plantation system.

Indian indentured labourers, meanwhile, were recruited to maintain the supply of labour to the sugar estates. During their contracts, many lived under restrictive conditions in plantation settlements. Their experiences differed from those of emancipated Africans, who faced the challenge of building independent lives in a colony whose economy remained dominated by sugar.

These communities endured different forms of hardship within the same colonial system. The emancipated African struggled to establish economic independence, while the indentured Indian laboured under a system designed to bind workers to plantation production.

Neither experience should be diminished to elevate the other.

The history of Guyana is not the exclusive inheritance of any one ethnic group. It is the accumulated history of Africans, Indians, Indigenous peoples, Portuguese, Chinese, and others whose labour, struggles, and aspirations helped shape the country.

Recognising these differences is essential. So, too, is recognising the shared experience of a society structured by colonial power.

The challenge before us is to understand how these historical inequalities influenced the politics of independent Guyana—and why ethnic loyalties continue to influence political choices today.

The Village, the Community, and the Meaning of Wealth

I was particularly struck by a discussion on Politics 101 about the changing character of Afro-Guyanese village life.

One participant recalled a time when families possessed little material wealth but enjoyed strong communal relationships. The village was not merely a place of residence; it was a network of shared responsibilities. Churches, schools, discipline, education, and mutual assistance helped shape the lives of successive generations.

People took pride in service to their communities. A teacher or policeman could command respect because of the contribution made to society. Success was not measured exclusively by the possessions one accumulated.

That recollection raises an important question: what happens to a community when collective responsibility gives way to individual survival?

Economic hardship can weaken communal bonds. When people must struggle simply to meet their daily needs, cooperation becomes more difficult and competition more intense. Material possessions may increasingly become symbols of status, while public service and community contribution receive less recognition.

These concerns deserve serious attention. Government policy should strengthen community institutions, expand opportunities for young people, and support small businesses that create lasting employment. Economic development must not be measured solely by national revenue or the construction of impressive infrastructure. It must also be measured by whether ordinary citizens experience greater security, dignity, and opportunity.

The same principle applies across Guyana’s ethnic communities. The preservation of communal values should not mean a return to the hardships of the past. It should mean carrying forward the best traditions of solidarity while creating the conditions for modern economic independence.

Economic Opportunity and the Question of Fairness

Concerns about the distribution of government contracts have become part of Guyana’s wider political debate. On a Politics 101 discussion concerning the economy and justice, I was struck by claims that lucrative government contracts were concentrated among a relatively small group of Indian Guyanese businesses, with comparatively few Afro-Guyanese contractors benefiting.

Such claims deserve examination through transparent procurement records, contract-award data, and independent scrutiny. Allegations of ethnic favouritism should not be treated as proven without supporting evidence. Equally, they should not be dismissed without investigation.

Public procurement is not simply an administrative matter. It determines which businesses grow, which communities gain employment, and who participates in the country’s economic transformation.

Every qualified Guyanese business should have a fair opportunity to compete for public contracts. The criteria should be transparent, the evaluation process accountable, and the results open to scrutiny.

Where unequal access exists, the government should identify the barriers and address them. Where allegations are unfounded, reliable evidence should establish that fact.

This is how a country builds trust: not through political assurances, but through institutions that citizens can examine and hold accountable.

Guyana’s oil wealth makes this responsibility even more urgent. The expanding economy should create opportunities for manufacturers, contractors, agricultural producers, skilled workers, and entrepreneurs from every community. If citizens come to believe that national wealth benefits only a connected minority, economic growth may deepen political resentment instead of strengthening national unity.

A prosperous Guyana must be one in which every citizen has a fair chance to participate in its prosperity.

From Political Allegiance to National Leadership

Guyana’s political history has been shaped by the rivalry between the PNC and the PPP. For generations, many citizens have viewed politics through the lens of ethnic identity, historical grievances, and inherited loyalties.

Alternative political movements have periodically promised to break this pattern. The emergence of the so-called Third Force and other political initiatives reflected a genuine desire among some citizens for a different direction. Yet the promise of an alternative has not always translated into a durable national movement.

New political labels alone cannot transform a country. A movement must demonstrate integrity, organisational discipline, policy competence, and the ability to unite people whose political experiences differ.

The People’s Movement emerged from my own desire for such an alternative. I believed Guyana needed a movement rooted in patriotism, economic development, social justice, and national independence of thought—not another organisation trapped by the rivalries of established political parties.

Its limited progress also illustrates the difficulty of building a national movement in a deeply polarised environment. Good intentions are insufficient. A movement must earn public confidence through practical proposals, credible leadership, and consistent engagement with ordinary citizens.

Guyana needs leadership that is patriotic rather than partisan, accountable rather than self-serving, and committed to the national interest rather than the preservation of political power.

The objective should not be to replace one ethnic constituency with another. It should be to establish a political culture in which citizens can support a government because of its policies and performance, and oppose it when it fails to meet its obligations.

That is the foundation upon which a genuine national movement can be built.

Region 11 Must Find Its Collective Voice

The Guyanese diaspora possesses resources that extend well beyond remittances. It includes experienced professionals, entrepreneurs, skilled tradespeople, academics, community organisers, and citizens familiar with institutions and economic systems outside Guyana.

These resources could contribute substantially to national development if they were organised around clear and achievable objectives.

Yet diaspora organisations often operate separately, divided by geography, political allegiance, personal rivalries, and differing priorities. Their voices may be heard individually, but their collective influence remains less than it could be.

Region 11 has an opportunity to change that.

Imagine a united diaspora organisation committed to transparent governance, fair public procurement, technical and vocational training, manufacturing, agricultural development, youth employment, and the responsible management of national resources.

Such an organisation would not need to become an extension of either the PPP or the PNC. Its purpose would be to hold every administration to consistent national standards.

It could publish policy recommendations, organise public forums, connect Guyanese businesses with overseas expertise, support educational initiatives, and establish measurable development priorities.

It could also create a space in which Afro-Guyanese, Indo-Guyanese, Indigenous Guyanese, and members of other communities work together without being required to abandon their identities or historical experiences.

This is not a call for uniformity. It is a call for cooperation.

Region 11 should be able to engage with the government of the day without surrendering its independence, and criticise the government without allowing criticism to become an excuse for ethnic hostility.

The diaspora's greatest contribution may be its ability to demonstrate that Guyanese identity can transcend the political boundaries that have divided the homeland.

Oil Wealth, Economic Independence, and the Future

Guyana stands at a critical point in its history. Oil has created extraordinary opportunities, but natural resources alone cannot guarantee lasting prosperity.

The country's experience with sugar, rice, and bauxite offers important lessons about economic concentration, state management, and the consequences of allowing established industries to decline. The rise of petroleum creates an opportunity to build a more diversified economy, but that opportunity must be managed carefully.

Oil revenue should help develop skills, strengthen education, improve public services, expand local manufacturing, modernise agriculture, and create sustainable employment. It should also support the development of businesses capable of competing beyond Guyana's borders.

The diaspora can contribute directly to this transformation by connecting local enterprises with international markets, sharing technical knowledge, mentoring young entrepreneurs, and encouraging responsible investment.

However, development cannot depend on the diaspora alone. The government must establish fair rules, strengthen institutions, and ensure that public resources are managed in the national interest.

Nor should Guyana's future depend excessively on any foreign power. International partnerships with countries such as the United States, China, and others can provide valuable opportunities, but Guyana must retain the capacity to make independent decisions based on its own long-term interests.

True economic independence is not isolation. It is the ability to engage with the world from a position of confidence, competence, and national purpose.

The Past Must Inform Us, Not Imprison Us

Guyana's history includes slavery, indentureship, colonial exploitation, political upheaval, and periods of ethnic conflict. The Wismar Massacre and other episodes of violence remain part of the country's difficult historical inheritance.

These events must be studied honestly. They should neither be forgotten nor exploited to justify fresh hostility.

The danger arises when history becomes a weapon wielded against present-day neighbours. The descendants of those who suffered under different systems should not be made responsible for every injustice committed in the past. Nor should historical grievances be dismissed simply because they are uncomfortable.

We must distinguish between remembering injustice and perpetuating division.

Our ancestors, in different circumstances and through different struggles, helped create the society we inherited. Their experiences deserve recognition, and their contributions deserve respect. Our responsibility is to build a country in which future generations are not condemned to repeat the conflicts of previous ones.

The national question is not whether one community has suffered more than another. It is whether we possess the political maturity to acknowledge our different histories and build institutions that protect the rights and opportunities of all.

Guyana cannot change its past. It can, however, change the way its past shapes the future.

A Call for a New People's Movement

I believe the time has come for Guyanese at home and abroad to reconsider the nature of their political participation.

We cannot continue to expect different results while relying on the same habits of partisan loyalty, personal ambition, and ethnic mobilisation. Neither the established parties nor the alternative movements should be beyond scrutiny.

A new People's Movement must be built on principles that are practical and measurable:

• National unity: Reject ethnic hostility while acknowledging the historical experiences of every community.
• Accountable government: Demand transparency in public spending, procurement, and the management of national resources.
• Economic opportunity: Promote local manufacturing, skills development, entrepreneurship, and employment for young Guyanese.
• Independent citizenship: Encourage citizens to judge political parties by their conduct and policies rather than inherited allegiance.
• Diaspora partnership: Bring overseas expertise, investment, and experience into a structured programme of national development.
• Historical understanding: Teach the country's complex past honestly, without turning history into an instrument of political revenge.

This movement must not become another vehicle for personal ambition. Its credibility will depend on its willingness to practise the standards it demands of others.

It must also understand that unity is not achieved by asking citizens to remain silent about injustice. Genuine unity requires fairness, accountability, and the confidence that every community has a meaningful place in the national project.

The people who must lead this effort are not necessarily the loudest voices on social media or the most influential figures in political circles. They are citizens who are prepared to work patiently, listen honestly, and place the country's long-term interests above personal or partisan advantage.

The Country Waits

For those who have witnessed Guyana's political journey over the past seven decades, the present moment brings both disappointment and possibility.

We have inherited a country shaped by centuries of labour, sacrifice, cultural exchange, and struggle. Our ancestors helped transform a colonial outpost into an independent nation. Their descendants now face a different challenge: ensuring that independence delivers a fairer society and a more secure future.

Region 11 has a responsibility in that undertaking. Its influence should not be measured solely by its ability to support or oppose a president, a political party, or a particular administration. It should be measured by what it can help Guyana achieve.

The diaspora must move beyond periodic political excitement and build a sustained programme of engagement. It must ask difficult questions, offer practical solutions, and insist that public institutions serve the entire population.

Above all, it must show that national unity is more than a slogan.

Can Guyana become a nation in which prosperity is shared more fairly, public office is exercised responsibly, and ethnic identity no longer determines the limits of political cooperation?

I believe it can. But hope without organisation is insufficient, and criticism without constructive action cannot deliver the transformation we seek.

The future of Guyana cannot be entrusted to any single party, ethnic group, or leader. It must be shaped by citizens who recognise that their differences need not prevent them from pursuing common goals.

Region 11, the opportunity is before us. Let us use our collective experience, resources, and influence to help build a Guyana that belongs to all its people.

The past is always present in our memories. But it is the future that must guide our actions.

The country waits. The responsibility is ours.