When Power Goes Unchecked and Opposition Goes Quiet, the Nation Must Speak for Itself
BY: Hem Kumar
𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣
There is a dangerous silence settling over Guyana.
It is not the silence of contentment. It is not the silence of a people at peace with their government, satisfied with the direction of their country, or reassured by those who lead it.
It is something far more troubling. It is the silence of resignation — the particular quiet that descends on a population that has begun to believe, however reluctantly, that its voice no longer carries weight.
That silence is not accidental. It is the natural consequence of two simultaneous failures: a government that has grown comfortable operating beyond scrutiny, and an opposition that has grown comfortable offering none.
Both failures are dangerous. Together, they are corrosive.
The Government: Authority Without Accountability
Democracies do not die in moments of obvious rupture. They erode — steadily, quietly, through the gradual normalisation of conduct that would once have triggered outrage.
What we are witnessing in Guyana today is not a sudden authoritarian turn. It is something more insidious: the slow, methodical expansion of executive confidence. Decisions are made with less consultation.
Institutions are tested for their limits rather than respected for their purpose. Public disclosure is managed, not offered. Questions are deflected, not answered. And those who raise concerns are increasingly dismissed — not rebutted, but dismissed.
This is how democratic backsliding works. Not through a single dramatic act, but through accumulation. Each unchallenged overreach becomes the new baseline. Each unanswered question signals that questions need not be answered. Each institution that bends without breaking teaches power that bending is acceptable.
The oil wealth that was meant to be Guyana’s generational opportunity has instead become the political class’s most powerful instrument of control. Resource revenue creates the conditions for dependency. Dependency erodes dissent. And the erosion of dissent is precisely the environment in which authority without accountability takes root and grows.
This is not speculation. It is the observable pattern of resource-rich states across history, across continents, across political systems. Guyana is not immune to those patterns simply because it wishes to be. It is immune only if its citizens, its institutions, and its press refuse to allow them to take hold.
The Opposition: A Silence That Cannot Be Excused
But accountability cannot rest with the press and civil society alone.
In a functioning democracy, the primary instrument of political accountability is an active, disciplined, and courageous opposition.
What Guyana has instead is a political opposition that appears to have confused survival with effectiveness.
Statements are issued. Press releases are distributed. Condemnations are offered. But the kind of organised, sustained, visible pressure that forces a government to reckon with consequence — that remains largely absent. And absence, in politics, is never neutral. It is always read as permission.
There is no shortage of legitimate grievances for an opposition to anchor itself to. There is no absence of public concern, no scarcity of issues that demand urgent and focused attention. The material for a serious accountability movement exists in abundance. What is missing is the will to build one.
That absence is a political failure of the first order. An opposition that does not hold the government to account is not merely ineffective — it is complicit. Not in intention, perhaps, but in effect. And in politics, effect is what matters.
The people of Guyana did not elect an opposition to manage their own irrelevance. They elected it to be the institutional voice of scrutiny, challenge, and alternative vision. When it falls short of that mandate, it does not merely fail itself — it fails every citizen who counted on it to speak when speaking was difficult.
The opposition must understand: the nation is watching not for what it says, but for what it does. Consistency, courage, and organisation are not optional features of an effective political movement. They are its foundation.
The Void That Is Created
When a government expands unchecked and opposition contracts in silence, a void is created.
And voids do not remain empty.
They are filled — by fatalism, by cynicism, by the creeping conviction that participation is pointless and engagement is futile. They are filled by the quiet withdrawal of citizens who once believed in the possibility of accountability and have slowly been taught not to. They are filled, eventually, by a political culture in which power is the only thing that matters because it is the only thing that appears to work.
That is the real danger now facing Guyana. Not a single scandal. Not a single policy failure. Not a single act of overreach. But the cultural shift that occurs when a population decides, collectively and quietly, that holding power to account is someone else’s problem — or no one’s problem at all.
Four years from the next election is not merely a timeline. For too many citizens, it has become an excuse for disengagement — a reason to wait rather than to act. But democracy does not operate on election cycles. It operates every day, in every institution, in every conversation, in every question asked and every demand made.
The space between elections is not a void. It is where accountability either lives or dies.
The Fourth Estate: Consequential, Not Comfortable
Into this space, the press must step — not cautiously, not partially, but fully and without apology.
Journalism was never designed to be a passive recorder of official positions. It was designed to be the mechanism by which citizens understand what power is doing in their name. When that mechanism functions well, accountability is possible. When it functions poorly — when it normalises silence, when it reports without interrogating, when it mistakes access for independence — democracy suffers consequences it may not immediately see but will eventually feel.
This is not a call for recklessness. It is not an invitation to abandon fairness, accuracy, or proportion. On the contrary, it is a demand for a deeper commitment to all three — because it is precisely the rigour of good journalism that gives it the moral authority to challenge power without apology.
What it does require is courage. The willingness to ask the questions that those in authority would prefer remain unasked. The discipline to follow a story not merely when it is convenient, but when it is difficult. The editorial resolve to resist the twin temptations of access journalism on one hand and performative outrage on the other — and instead pursue, consistently and seriously, the truth of what is happening to this country and why.
The press must connect the dots that official narratives leave disconnected. It must amplify the voices that power has learned to ignore. It must frame the stakes of what is happening with sufficient clarity that citizens who feel distant from politics can understand, concretely, what they stand to lose.
And it must do all of this with the moral seriousness that the moment demands — not as advocacy for any political faction, but as an act of service to the public whose right to know is not a courtesy extended by the powerful, but a cornerstone of democratic life.
A Nation That Must Choose
But ultimately — and this must be said plainly — no institution can substitute for the will of the people themselves.
The Guyanese people are not powerless. They are, in the most fundamental sense, the source of all legitimate authority in this country. The government derives its mandate from them. The opposition earns its relevance from them. Even the press operates at the pleasure of an informed and engaged readership.
When citizens disengage, they do not merely step back from politics. They step back from the source of their own power. And power, once ceded, is rarely returned without effort.
The task before the nation is not to wait for the right leader, the right election, the right moment. It is to refuse — now, consistently, loudly where necessary and quietly where effective — to allow the normalisation of silence to become permanent.
It is to demand accountability not as a political preference but as a civic obligation. To recognise that the erosion of democratic norms, however gradual, has consequences that compound over time. To understand that a generation that grows up without witnessing meaningful accountability learns, from that experience, not to expect it.
This is the inheritance that is at stake. Not merely the next election cycle. Not merely the next policy decision. But the political culture that will define what kind of country Guyana becomes — and what kind of citizens its children learn to be
The Measure of This Moment
History will not remember who was most comfortable during this period. It will remember who was most consequential.
It will remember whether the institutions designed to check power did so. Whether the voices charged with informing the public chose honesty over convenience. Whether ordinary citizens, in the face of what felt like overwhelming indifference, chose engagement over resignation.
The silence settling over Guyana is not inevitable. It is a choice — one being made, or not made, every day by those who govern, those who oppose, those who report, and those who simply live here and care about the country they inhabit.
The question this nation must answer — not in four years, but now — is whether that silence will be accepted, or whether there remain enough people willing to insist, with clarity and without apology, that Guyana deserves better.
It does.
And the time to say so is not later.
It is now.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 592𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮,𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙄𝙣𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝘼𝙣𝙙𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨. — ✦—
