From 2019-26 –A Billion Barrels (Will This Oil Last)

592GUARDIAN♦ACCOUNTABILITY♦INTEGRITY JOURNALISM♦GUYANA

From 2019-26 –A Billion Barrels (Will This Oil Last)


OPINION BY: GHK LALL 

In over six years, 10 percent of Guyana’s stated oil reserves is gone.  There’s confidence that Exxon will find more replacement oil.  The company may have come across more proven reserves than it has been saying.  But that’s for another day.  It is a rather lonely figure that 11.6 billion barrels.  Stuck at midnight for several years now.  If 10 percent of Guyana’s current oil reserves is out from under the seabed in over six years, then there’s 50+ years of production left. 

That is, barring new discoveries, which should only be a positive.  There is, however, a little number that should have caught the eye of Guyanese who watch these developments.  The date and number are part of the fine print.

Guyana announced First Oil in December 2019.  Just under five years later, a half billion barrels dug up was the milestone reached in November 2024.  Not bad for a new oil producer with almost zero capacity of its own.  Now for the uppercut.  From December 2024 to July 2026, a total of 18 months, the second half billion barrels were pumped from the sea to the tankers.  Now, isn’t that something.  From the relatively pedestrian trot of a half billion barrels in 59-60 months, to the gallop of the second half billion barrels in 18 months, give or take.  Howzat for acceleration of production!

From a quarter million barrels at the onset to closing in on a million barrels daily today.  Exxon, with the freest hand from the Government of Guyana, is going great guns.  Exciting numbers that are poised to grow more thrilling by the end of this year, by the end of next year, and by 2029.  I take all of those for granted, but do not factor them (yet) into what is about to be shared. 

With a half billion barrels of oil produced in the last 18 months, that’s a billion barrels every three years, using the current production rate of 870,000 to 900,000 barrels daily.  I think that my fellow Guyanese may already have seen what I see, where I am heading.

All things being equal (proven reserves remain at 11.6 billion barrels less the billion extracted, and 900,000 barrels daily, this oil is not going to last 50 years.  Thirty years is a fair estimate, albeit a back-of-the-envelope one.  When the yearend project waiting to be keyed in is added, that’s over a million barrels a day.  It reduces the lifespan of the reserves.  When the other projects, a total of seven in all, are up and running, the daily production rate is slated to be 1.5 million barrels approximately. 

These are official numbers, not mine.  At 1.5 million barrels a day and round the clock (24/7) production that is 547.5 million barrels a year.  Unless Exxon hits a big pool of oil, the reserves on hand could be gone between 20 and 25 years.  I have every confidence that Exxon will strike oil in a timely manner to refill the proven reserves bank.  Not to mince any words, I believe that Exxon has already latched onto enough reserves to keep the oil flowing out of Guyana well beyond this 20–25-year horizon that I share.  To put it delicately, it is purely a matter of timing for the company.

I apologize for the approximations and rough estimates, but I work with what is available.  A half billion barrels in almost five years, followed by the spectacular production spike to a half billion barrels in just about a year and a half. 

Production speed increased more than threefold, while proven reserves are stuck at 11.6 billion barrels, one of which is now history.  There will be more oil found.  Take my word on that one. 

It’s what Guyana does with its oil earnings.  It will go a long way in making Guyanese feel that there was oil and they shared in a piece of it.  Otherwise, this oil wealth could be gone. 

Poor Guyanese could still be asking themselves if oil was really found here.  Then, lament that it never touched them.

Turned Off: GWI’s Five-Region Disconnection Campaign and the Regulatory Order Nobody Can Confirm Was Followed

592 GUARDIAN♦ACCOUNTABILITY INTEGRITY JOURNALISM♦GUYANA

 Turned Off: GWI’s Five-Region Disconnection Campaign and the Regulatory Order Nobody Can Confirm Was Followed


OPINION BY: Staff Writer — The 592 Guardian

As Guyana Water Inc. prepares to cut service house-to-house across Regions 3, 4, 6 and 10 this week, a 2022 regulatory order meant to guarantee due process and public reporting appears to have gone unmonitored — and neither the utility nor its regulator can say why.

Beginning August 10, Guyana Water Inc. (GWI) will send crews house-to-house through Georgetown, East Bank Demerara, East Coast Demerara, West Coast/West Bank Demerara and parts of Region Six, disconnecting customers with outstanding balances. The five-day campaign, publicised through a series of regional notices, covers dozens of named communities — from Alberttown and Kitty in the capital to Corriverton-Dukestown on the Corentyne — and arrives with a single instruction to residents: settle up, or lose water.

The notices are silent on a set of protections that GWI’s own regulator ordered into place nearly four years ago. In September 2022, following a formal challenge from the Guyana Consumers Association, the Public Utilities Commission (PUC) issued Order 2 of 2022, upholding GWI’s disputed $7,500 reconnection fee but attaching conditions: a longer disconnection-notice period, a higher grace threshold before cutoff, a directive to review disconnection methods for cost-effectiveness, and — critically — a requirement that GWI file monthly reports to the PUC disclosing how many customers were disconnected, their outstanding balances, the methods used, and reconnection figures.

A related metering order set a December 2024 deadline for 100% metering of previously unmetered consumers, with quarterly progress reports due along the way.

The 592 Guardian sought to determine whether either compliance stream — the monthly disconnection reports or the metering updates — has actually been filed, and whether the 24-hour notice and $12,500 grace threshold set in 2022 are being honoured in this week’s campaign.

Neither GWI nor the PUC could provide a definitive answer. Both pointed, in substance, to an ongoing transition to digital systems.

THE 2022 ORDER: A REAL CONCESSION, WITH STRINGS ATTACHED

The 2022 proceeding is worth recalling in full, because it complicates any simple narrative of a state utility acting with impunity. Dr. Yog Mahadeo, appearing for the Guyana Consumers Association, argued before the Commission that GWI’s disconnection practices should be reconsidered altogether, invoking UN General Assembly Resolution 64/292 — the 2010 recognition of water as a human right — and pressing the Commission to review what he characterised as a punitive reconnection fee.

GWI’s then-CEO, Shaik Baksh, defended the fee on financial grounds, telling the Commission that the utility’s actual disconnection and reconnection costs already exceeded what the $7,500 charge recovered, and that a 2021 customer-assistance programme waiving half the fee had not achieved its intended effect and was discontinued.

The Commission’s ruling split the difference. It upheld the $7,500 fee — finding it did not exceed GWI’s own recovery costs — but it did not treat the matter as closed. Effective January 1, 2023, GWI was ordered to raise its credit/grace limit from $10,000 to $12,500, extend disconnection notice from four hours to twenty-four, review its disconnection methods, and submit monthly disaggregated reports to the PUC on every disconnection: who, why, how much was owed, how the cutoff was carried out, and when — if ever — service was restored.

“The fee was never defied. It was reviewed, and upheld, by the regulator — with a paper trail attached. The open question is what happened to that paper trail.”

That reporting requirement is the piece of Order 2 that matters most for this week’s campaign. It exists precisely so that a mass disconnection drive like the one now underway in five regions could be checked against a public record — how many households are losing water, whether vulnerable customers are among them, and whether the 24-hour notice and $12,500 threshold are being applied. In November 2023, GWI itself filed for a review of aspects of Order 2; the substance of that filing and its outcome are not available in the PUC’s public archive.

A COMPLIANCE TRAIL THAT GOES COLD

The PUC’s website lists dedicated pages for Monthly Reports, Annual Reports, and PUC Orders — the exact mechanism through which GWI’s obligations under Order 2 would be made public.     As of this reporting, none of those pages show content past early 2024; the Commission’s own news and orders listings likewise thin out around February 2024.

Whether that reflects a genuine gap in filings, a backlog in publishing filings that exist, or simply a website not being maintained is not something that can be determined from the public record alone.

The 592 Guardian put the question directly to both institutions:    ♦ Has GWI filed the monthly disconnection reports required since January 2023?

♦ Was the December 2024 metering deadline met, and were the required quarterly progress reports submitted?

♦ Is the 24-hour notice period, and the $12,500 grace threshold, being applied in the current five-region campaign?

Neither GWI nor the PUC provided a definitive answer to any of the three questions. The explanation offered, in substance, was that both institutions are in the midst of a transition to digital record-keeping systems, and that the requested data was not readily retrievable in the interim.

AN EXCUSE THAT PREDATES THE DEADLINE IT’S MISSING

That explanation does not sit comfortably against the government’s own digitisation timeline. President Irfaan Ali announced in September 2025 that most government services would be fully digitised by the end of the second quarter of 2026 — a deadline that has now passed. The obligations in question, moreover, are not digital-transformation projects. They are statutory reporting duties created by a regulatory order issued in 2022, with a first report due in January 2023 — twenty months before the digitisation programme was even announced, and well before any system upgrade could plausibly explain their absence.

If a national digitisation push that was supposed to conclude in June is now the reason a state utility and its own regulator cannot confirm compliance with a nearly four-year-old order, that is itself a finding: it suggests either the digitisation programme has slipped its own deadline without public acknowledgment, or — more troublingly — that the underlying compliance gap predates any system transition and the digitisation explanation has become a ready-made answer for record-keeping failures that were already occurring.

WHAT THE HUMAN RIGHTS STANDARD ACTUALLY REQUIRES

It is tempting, watching a disconnection notice reach this many communities at once, to reach immediately for the language of a human rights violation. The international standard is more precise than that, and worth stating accurately.

The UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, in its General Comment No. 15 on the right to water, holds that where disconnection follows non-payment, a customer’s capacity to pay must be taken into account, and that no one may be deprived of the minimum essential level of water regardless of ability to pay. Arbitrary or unjustified disconnection — as distinct from disconnection that follows due process and preserves a minimum supply — is what the Committee identifies as a violation.

On that standard, GWI’s public-facing materials are not, on their face, out of step: the utility’s own FAQ describes disconnection as a last resort after non-payment and points customers toward negotiated payment arrangements before cutoff. The 2022 PUC order, likewise, built in real procedural protections — more notice, a higher grace threshold, mandated reporting.

The gap is not in the written policy. It is in the absence of any current, checkable evidence that the policy’s own safeguards are being followed during a campaign of this scale.

 

QUESTIONS ON THE RECORD

The 592 Guardian is publishing this piece with those questions unresolved, rather than waiting on institutions that have not been able to answer them.

We put the following to GWI and the PUC and will update this record as responses are received:

  1. Have GWI’s monthly disconnection reports, required under Order 2 of 2022 since January 2023, been filed with the PUC for every month since that date? If any months are missing, which, and why?
  2. Was the December 3, 2024 deadline for 100% metering of unmetered consumers met? If not, what is the current metering completion rate, and were the required quarterly progress reports filed?
  3. In the disconnection campaign now underway across Regions 3, 4, 6 and 10, is the 24-hour notice period and the $12,500 grace threshold set by Order 2 being applied to every household disconnected?
  4. Does GWI screen for vulnerable households — elderly, disabled, or health-dependent customers — before disconnection, and if so, under what published policy?
  5. What was the substance and outcome of GWI’s November 2023 application to review Order 2 of 2022?
  6. When will the PUC’s Monthly Reports and Annual Reports archives be updated to reflect filings, if any, made since early 2024?

WHY THIS MATTERS NOW

Guyana’s disconnection framework is not, on paper, indifferent to hardship. It has a regulator that has intervened before, a fee structure the Commission has scrutinised, and reporting requirements designed to make mass campaigns like this one auditable rather than opaque. What appears to be missing is not the rule but its enforcement — or, at minimum, the public evidence that enforcement is occurring. A five-region disconnection drive is precisely the moment that evidence should be easiest to produce. That it is not says less about whether GWI’s policy meets the human rights standard on paper, and more about whether Guyana’s regulatory institutions can currently show their own work.

In a season defined by El Niño’s scorching heat and parched communities, GWI’s mass disconnection campaign is more than administrative overreach; it is a chilling indictment of how far removed our decision-makers have become from the lived reality of ordinary Guyanese.

To cut water in the middle of a climate crisis is not just poor judgment, it is an act that flirts with cruelty, stripping families of the most basic means of survival while mouthing clichés about “management” and “efficiency.”

This campaign reveals a system that punishes instead of protects, one that treats water as a bill to be chased rather than a lifeline to be safeguarded.

If this is how we govern in the face of El Niño, then the real drought we face is one of empathy, accountability, and common sense—and that disconnect is more dangerous than any dry spell.

The 592 Guardian sought comment from Guyana Water Inc. and the Public Utilities Commission prior to publication. This report will be updated with any response received.

— The Board

Unanimous on the Verdict, Silent on the Verdict-Giver

592 GUARDIAN♦ACCOUNTABILITY♦INTEGRITY JOURNALISM♦GUYANA

Unanimous on the Verdict, Silent on the Verdict-Giver


OPINION BY: Staff Writer— August 2026

A response to Peeping Tom’s column on the CCJ ruling in the Mohamed extradition case

Peeping Tom wants Guyana to read the Mohamed extradition ruling as proof that CCJ “noise” is political theatre. The columnist’s entire argument rests on a sleight of hand: conflating unanimity on the outcome of one case with unanimity on the integrity of the court that produced it. Those are not the same question, and treating them as one is either careless or convenient.

Yes — all seven judges agreed the Authority to Proceed was valid and the Mohameds’ appeal should fail. Nobody serious disputes that. But the “noise” was never about whether Azruddin and Nazar Mohamed’s extradition proceedings should continue. It is about what Justice Jamadar wrote in a leaked internal email: that the Mohamed extradition matter was one of two cases — alongside the Enriquez/Ramlogan trilogy — where he experienced CCJ President Anderson attempting to influence colleagues’ opinions “in an authoritative manner.” It is about Justice Eboe-Osuji’s allegation that Anderson “tried single-handedly to override judicial independence and long-standing CCJ conventions,” and his conspicuous absence — unexplained — from the delivery of the very judgment Peeping Tom now cites as vindication. It is about Anderson’s own remark, in a July 2025 judges’ meeting, that he did not see himself as “running a democracy.” 

A 257-page judgment gets forensic treatment; the email chain that prompted a majority of his own bench to accuse the CCJ President of running the court in an “authoritarian” and “dictatorial” manner gets zero mention.

 

None of that appears in the piece. That is not a close reading of the judgment — it is a studious avoidance of the scandal the judgment is now being used to launder.

The columnist’s own framing gives the game away. Procedural disagreement among judges, we’re told, is “normal” and “healthy.” Fine — nobody disputes that either. But Anderson’s decision to pull Eboe-Osuji from the D’Almada panel days after the same judge appeared, in the same attire, on the Robateau panel without incident; the CCJ’s own press office ignoring fifteen direct questions before issuing a Friday-night statement that answered none of them; the Heads of Judiciary’s joint statement on August 13 that expressed “grave concern” about the leak while declining to touch a single allegation against Anderson by name — none of that is a disagreement about “procedural highways.”

It is an institution closing ranks around its president while its own judges are on record accusing him of exactly the kind of interference Guyanese litigants are supposed to be protected from.

And Guyana has more at stake here than most. It was Guyana’s Attorney General, Anil Nandlall, arguing against the losing side before the very panel whose independence is now in question. It is Guyana’s TCL v Guyana precedent that sits at the center of the parallel D’Almada dispute over Bhagwansingh — a fight over whether nationals can sue their own state, decided by a panel Anderson is separately accused of trying to steer.

And it was Guyana’s Chief Justice who co-signed a joint, multi-jurisdiction statement on the CCJ’s credibility rather than issuing an independent one addressing Guyana’s direct stake — a choice that itself deserves scrutiny, not the silence it has received.

 

Calling any of this “political noise” requires either not knowing the contents of the leaked correspondence, or knowing it and hoping readers don’t. The verdict in Mohamed was unanimous.

The question of whether the man presiding over that court can be trusted to run it without leaning on his colleagues is not settled by that verdict — it is the question the verdict is now being used to bury.

— The Board

When the Audit Began, the Locks Changed

592 GUARDIAN♦ACCOUNTABILITY♦INTEGRITY JOURNALISM♦ GUYANA

When the Audit Began, the Locks Changed


OPINION BY : Hem Kumar–August 2026

The Guyana Sanatan Dharma Maha Sabha is not merely confronting a dispute over a building, a temple, or personalities. It is confronting a far more consequential test: whether a statutory religious body can be restored to accountable governance when the very process of examining its books is allegedly met with obstruction.

That is the question now before the High Court.

Court-appointed managers Geeta Chandan-Edmond and Mahendra Mookram say they were locked out of the Maha Sabha’s management office at Kalyan Mall in July—cut off from administrative records, financial documents, procurement material, and membership information required to carry out the precise duties assigned to them by the court.

 

Let us be clear about what this means.

These were not private individuals wandering into an organization’s affairs. They were appointed by the High Court to manage the Maha Sabha, compile its membership register, bring overdue accounts under audit, and organise elections. If the managers’ affidavit is accepted, the lockout was not a petty internal quarrel. It was an apparent attempt to disable a court-supervised process.

And it came after audit work had begun to expose troubling matters.

General Secretary Sabita Lalu and member of SDMS,attorney Ms. Geeta  Chandon-Edmond

An audit reportedly found that General Secretary and Trustee Mahadai Lalu was indebted to the Maha Sabha in the sum of $1.38 million. The managers further allege that payments totalling $4.47 million were made in 2025 to a security service associated with Lalu while she held office, alongside $572,705 paid to former mayor and applicant Pandit Ubraj Narine.

Pt. Ubraj Narine

Together, the managers say, those payments accounted for more than half of the body’s 2025 expenditure—and were not supported by proper procurement records, contracts, or declarations of conflict.

Those are serious allegations. They are not findings of guilt, and no fair-minded observer should pretend otherwise. But neither should anyone trivialise them. Where a statutory organisation’s funds appear to flow to persons holding influence or office within that organisation, the burden is on those responsible to show that every transaction was authorised, necessary, documented, competitively procured where required, and free from self-dealing.

That is what accountability looks like.

A Test of Governance

The Maha Sabha’s leadership dispute has lasted for years, but age does not convert dysfunction into legitimacy. Nor does religious standing place a statutory body beyond ordinary principles of transparency, financial discipline, and fiduciary responsibility.

In fact, the opposite is true.

A religious institution entrusted with property, money, members’ confidence, and a public statutory identity carries a heightened obligation to conduct its affairs cleanly. Devotees should never be asked to choose between faith and accountability. The two must coexist.

The issue cannot be reduced to whether renovations were approved, whether worship was temporarily relocated, or whether particular personalities are liked or disliked. Those questions may be relevant and must be resolved on evidence. But they cannot eclipse the central matter: What did the audit reveal, where are the records, who approved the spending, and why were court-appointed managers allegedly prevented from accessing the documents needed to answer those questions?

The answer cannot be silence. It cannot be delay. And it certainly cannot be a change of locks.

The Suspicion Around Replacement

The reported effort to remove Chandan-Edmond from the court-appointed management structure deserves close scrutiny, particularly because it surfaced after the audit process reportedly began identifying financial irregularities.

There may be lawful grounds to challenge an interim manager. Parties in litigation have every right to seek relief before the court. But timing matters. Context matters. And public confidence matters.

Any attempt to replace a court-appointed manager while audits are underway must be tested against a simple question: would the change protect the Maha Sabha’s interests, or would it interrupt a process that is becoming uncomfortable for those whose conduct is under examination?

That question is especially important amid reports linking the proposed replacement to WIN Parliamentarian Vishnu Panday. If such a proposal is formally before the court, it must be disclosed plainly in filed documents. If it is not, it must not be circulated as established fact. The Maha Sabha’s members deserve transparency, not political whispers, factional manoeuvres, or trial by WhatsApp.

No one should be installed, removed, protected, or condemned on rumour.

But no one should be permitted to use litigation, religious sentiment, or organizational chaos as a shield against an audit either.

Preserve the Evidence

The High Court should move decisively to protect the integrity of its own order.

All Maha Sabha financial and administrative records—hard-copy files, minute books, receipts, payment vouchers, contracts, cheque stubs, bank statements, electronic files, emails, WhatsApp records, membership data, and procurement records—should be immediately secured and independently inventoried.

There must be no room for uncertainty about what existed before the lockout, what was accessed afterwards, and whether any records have gone missing, been altered, or been withheld.

The audit must proceed without intimidation. Any accountant retained to examine the Maha Sabha’s books should be free to work without harassment, interference, or pressure from any officeholder, trustee, employee, applicant, or faction.

If evidence establishes that money was improperly paid, conflicts were concealed, records were withheld, or court officers were obstructed, recovery and legal consequences must follow. If the allegations are disproved, that too should be established openly and conclusively.

The Maha Sabha cannot be rebuilt on selective outrage.

Faith Requires Clean Hands

For too long, institutions across Guyana have treated audits as threats rather than safeguards. That culture is corrosive. It teaches officeholders that records are personal property, that scrutiny is persecution, and that public or organizational funds can be managed without adequate explanation.

The Maha Sabha now has an opportunity to reject that culture.

Its members should demand audited accounts. They should demand a verified membership register. They should demand elections conducted under credible rules. They should demand that all persons entrusted with the body’s finances disclose conflicts and account fully for every dollar.

Most of all, they should demand that the court’s authority be respected.

The locks may have changed. But the larger question will not disappear: when the audit began, what were certain people so determined to keep behind closed doors?

The 592 Guardian

CCJ -Is This What Standards Have Become?

592 GUARDIAN♦ACCOUNTABILITY♦INTEGRITY JOURNALISM♦GUYANA

CCJ -Is This What Standards Have Become?

OPINION BY: GHK LALL— August 2026

It pains to listen, read, absorb the descendants of slaves and indentured servants make public representation that prioritizes chasing after those condemned.  Leakers.  After all the great sacrifices made by fore parents, in the jaws of fearsome savagery, this is where matters terminate.  An emphasis, a priority, on tracking leakers.  Notwithstanding all the education, some of substantial quality, this is the sum of, shall I say, intellectual and ethical curiosity.  The heart of issues, its commanding pull, is the first casualty that collapses.  The next has to be we ourselves -me and you.

Coming out of Trinidad, some serious men and women with hard-earned reputations for illustriousness took the bull by the horns.  There’s a problem at the CCJ.  At the top.  In some of the worst ways possible.  Coming out of Guyana, the reaction was telling and chilling.  Pursue the leakers.  Is this for real?  Is somebody serious here?  The matter at hand is not of some government ministry with a suspected long program of corruption and generalized wrongdoing. 

The concern is that the system of justice at its highest elevation in this region now appears tainted.  Smells rancid.  Besmirched by its own hand, as alleged.  There must be some significance attached to the implications of the allegations made.  Not by political opponents in a political campaign.  But by respected jurists against a brother.  It calls for some guts, some trait in the character, to take such a momentous step. 

The anxieties were too tormenting-perhaps, to the point of being unbearable-for no objection to be tendered, no trail of disagreement to be imprinted.

Now the best that can be offered in reaction (in and out of Guyana) is to go after whoever breached walls, penetrated too far.  In the situation, I wonder what is thought of the five CCJ judges who made their positions so clear?  Maybe they should have let sleeping dogs lie.  From the snippets, however, there was more than a trace of dysfunction at the CCJ.  It was being eroded, and eroding, from deep inside.  And not at some mundane level. 

I invite my fellow Guyanese to weigh this question.  What if the situation, as identified, is allowed to continue?  Could it be said that there are more opportunities for more travesties and miscarriages to be inflicted on the peoples of this region?  Without the specifications of some of the hard disagreements among the judges, what probability for institutional self-improvement? 

Or, more ominously, what probability for further degradation, based on the stream of allegations?

Frankly, whoever leaked those emails did the CCJ and this region a huge favor.  The CCJ administration (and the political overlords) are afforded the room to examine what went on, finalize the steps necessary for a cure.  The region is now able to place the CCJ under a microscope and study from its people to its processes to its output. 

Languishing in ignorance.  Believing that a straight deck and a fair deal are at work.  Though such may not be the case.  An injustice. 

Then that is a command for exposure and enlightenment.  Some developments, some circumstances, are too vital to be left to resolve themselves on their own.  A leak serves as a spur to action, a call to correction, however harsh.  In the call to go after leakers, I go back to my slave reference. 

When the slave rebels were hunted down, it extended the ignominy of slavery.  When slaves were recruited, or pressed into duty, to track down those fighting for their cause, they (the trackers) were damaging themselves.

I think that some damage has been done to Guyanese.  I stop there.  But if the level of trust, the high degree of confidence, that should repose in the CCJ suffers from the slightest decline, then that has to amount to a big consideration for free and pure functioning of the law and the dispensation of what passes for justice in this region.  If not at the CCJ, then where?  If not with those who sit at the CCJ table, then who? 

Should the CCJ lack the required ethical fiber to perform at the highest, cleanest level, then all is lost.  Our ancestors made too many sacrifices in the fields, skimped in the homes, for matters to come to this.

A STATEMENT GUYANA DIDN’T HAVE TO SHARE

592 GUARDIAN◊ACCOUNTABILITY ◊INTEGRITY JOURNALISM◊ GUYANA

A STATEMENT GUYANA DIDN’T HAVE TO SHARE

OPINION BY: Staff Writer—August 2026

Why did Guyana’s Chancellor of the Judiciary fold a direct conflict of interest into a joint statement, instead of speaking independently?

When the region’s Heads of Judiciary issued their joint statement on August 13 expressing “grave concern” over the confidentiality breach at the Caribbean Court of Justice, Guyana’s Chancellor of the Juidicary  was among the signatories. So was the Chief Justice of the Eastern Caribbean Supreme Court — the superior court of the Organisation of Eastern Caribbean States, an institution to which Guyana does not belong. The two signed separately, for separate courts, on the same document.

That much is a matter of record, not confusion.

The question worth asking is not why Guyana’s name sits beside the ECSC’s. It is why Guyana’s Chancellor chose to sign a joint statement — one crafted broadly enough to cover Barbados, the Bahamas, Belize, Jamaica, Trinidad and Tobago, and the ECSC bloc all at once — rather than issue an independent statement of her own.

GUYANA IS NOT A BYSTANDER IN THIS DISPUTE

The joint statement treats every signatory as equally distant from the substance of the allegations against CCJ President Justice Winston Anderson. For most of the signing jurisdictions, that framing may be defensible. For Guyana, it is not.

Two matters inside the leaked internal correspondence bear directly, and specifically, on Guyana.

The first is Bhagwansingh, the February 2026 CCJ ruling whose interpretation — broad or narrow — will determine whether Guyana’s own exposure under TCL v Guyana [2009] CCJ 5 (OJ) remains intact or is quietly narrowed. That dispute over how Bhagwansingh should be read is, by Justice Eboe-Osuji’s own account, the reason he was removed from the D’Almada panel in the first place. This newsroom has reported that ground already, at length.

The second is more direct still, and it has not yet been given the weight it deserves. Justice Peter Jamadar, in his internal email to fellow CCJ judges, named the Mohamed v MOHA, AG, and Magistrate extradition matter as one of two specific instances in which he experienced Justice Anderson attempting “to influence the opinions of colleagues that differed from yours in an authoritative manner.” That case was not an abstraction. It was Guyana’s own case. The Minister of Home Affairs, the Attorney General, and a sitting Magistrate of Guyana were named respondents. Guyana’s Attorney General, Mohabir Anil Nandlall, argued the government’s position before the court.

The CCJ unanimously dismissed the appeal by Opposition Leader Azruddin Mohamed and his father on July 29, clearing the way for US extradition proceedings to resume — a ruling delivered by Justice Denys Barrow “on behalf of himself and CCJ President Justice Winston Anderson,” and presented publicly as settled and unanimous.

Guyana’s Attorney General stood on one side of the Mohamed extradition matter. A sitting CCJ judge has alleged the court’s president tried to steer the outcome of that very case.

Jamadar’s account suggests the deliberations behind that unanimity were considerably less settled than the public judgment let on. Justice Eboe-Osuji, in the same correspondence, went further still, alleging Anderson “tried single-handedly to override judicial independence and long-standing CCJ conventions” — and was, by Anderson’s own account, absent from the case’s judgment delivery for reasons that were never specified.

Azruddin Mohamed has since publicly demanded an independent examination of the allegations, on the basis that they concern his own case.

TWO GOVERNMENTS, TWO POSITIONS, ONE SIGNATURE

This is not a hypothetical conflict of interest. Guyana’s Attorney General stood on one side of the Mohamed extradition matter. A sitting CCJ judge has now alleged, in writing, that the president of the court attempted to steer the outcome of that very case. Guyana’s government — through its AG — was a direct party to the proceeding a CCJ judge says may have been compromised by presidential overreach.

That is not the position of Barbados, or the Bahamas, or Belize, or the ECSC’s nine member territories, none of which had a government litigant inside the disputed case.

It is Guyana’s position, and Guyana’s alone.

A joint statement lets every signatory share both the cover and the ambiguity of collective phrasing. “Grave concern” about a confidentiality breach, expressed by seven Heads of Judiciary together, commits none of them individually to answering for the substance of what was breached.

An independent statement from Guyana’s Chancellor of the Judiciary would have carried no such shelter. It would have had to address, explicitly or by conspicuous omission, whether Guyana’s judiciary has any view on an allegation that its own government’s litigation was the subject of alleged presidential interference at the region’s apex court.

That is a different kind of statement, with a different kind of fallout — and it is the statement Guyana did not make.

THE QUESTION THIS PUBLICATION IS PUTTING ON RECORD

Why did Guyana’s Chancellor choose to fold Guyana’s position into a joint statement covering jurisdictions with no comparable stake in the underlying allegations, rather than address, independently, a matter in which Guyana’s own Attorney General was a named litigant?

Guyana’s judiciary owes the public more than shared cover. It owes an answer to why silence, diffused across seven signatures, was judged the safer course than an independent word of its own.

— The Board

THE CO-OP THAT NEVER LEARNED ITS OWN LESSON

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 THE CO-OP THAT NEVER LEARNED ITS OWN LESSON


A poultry hub floated for Region Two revives a structure Guyana’s own government already studied and watched fail — with none of the study attached

OPINION BY: Editor—August, 2026

At community consultations in Good Hope and Suddie on Monday, President Dr. Mohamed Irfaan Ali proposed relocating Region Two’s backyard poultry farmers into a single, centrally managed production cluster. Roughly forty farmers, he suggested, could be brought together at a designated site, financed through the Guyana Development Bank, scaled up to 25,000 birds, and structured so “all of them own a stake in that without having these conflicts in the community.”

It is a tidy answer to a real irritant — the friction between backyard poultry operations and their neighbors. It is also, on the government’s own account of it, nothing more than an idea spoken aloud in response to a complaint.

AN IDEA, NOT A PLAN

Strip away the framing and look at what the reporting actually confirms exists: a verbal proposal, floated at a consultation, with no named site, no disclosed financing terms beyond the Development Bank’s involvement, and no ownership or governance structure beyond a single sentence about farmers holding “a stake.” The coverage itself concedes as much in its closing lines, noting the proposal “will have to be further developed, including identifying a suitable location, determining the financing structure and establishing how participating farmers would own and operate the facility.” Every element that would make this a plan rather than a mood is explicitly marked as undone.

This is not incidental to how the idea arrived. It is the same shape as the President’s Rose Hall remarks days earlier, where noise complaints about bars produced an on-the-spot suggestion that proprietors use Development Bank financing — for a bank that had not yet opened its doors — to buy soundproofing material. It is the same shape as the Model Village Initiative’s granular infrastructure promises, unveiled as polished renders within a week of a tour launch, with no procurement or delivery timeline attached.

A complaint surfaces at a consultation; a structural fix is proposed within the same breath; the fix is reported as a policy development. The pattern is now well enough established on this record to name directly: consultations are functioning as the venue where the President workshops solutions in real time, and the solutions are workshopped, not developed.

A STRUCTURE GUYANA HAS ALREADY TRIED

What makes the poultry hub proposal worth more scrutiny than the soundproofing remark is that it does not just gesture at financing — it proposes reviving a specific organisational form. Forty independent farmers, pooled into a shared production facility, each holding a stake, coordinating collectively on output: this is, structurally, an agricultural cooperative.

Guyana does not need to speculate about how that structure performs under real conditions. It has the record.

Guyana’s cooperative movement was, at points, a central pillar of national economic policy — the country was styled a Co-operative Republic. It was also, over decades, a documented and repeated institutional failure. A 2017 Cabinet-commissioned task force report on the state of the cooperative sector catalogued the causes with some consistency: a lack of managerial skill among cooperative leadership, mismanagement of pooled funds, an absence of viability studies conducted before a cooperative was launched, and an inconsistency — bordering on indifference — in state support for the sector once formed. None of these are one-off failures of a particular co-op in a particular year. They are structural, recurring, and they were significant enough to warrant a government-commissioned study nine years ago.

The 2017 task force did not find bad luck. It found the same institutional weaknesses recurring across the cooperative sector — and recommended fixes that evidently did not outlast the report that proposed them.

The specific failure mode worth naming for a forty-farmer poultry cluster is the viability study. The 2017 report flagged its absence as a recurring cause of collapse — cooperatives launched on enthusiasm and political will, without groundwork on whether the pooled model would function for the specific commodity, the specific participants, or the specific market. Nothing in the Good Hope and Suddie remarks suggests a viability study preceded this proposal. It was, by every available account, generated in response to a complaint about backyard conflict — not in response to an assessment of whether forty independent poultry farmers, with their own methods, debts, and expectations, can be merged into a single 25,000-bird operation without the very conflicts a shared facility tends to produce.

FINANCING WITHOUT A FRAMEWORK

The financing vehicle attached to this proposal deserves its own scrutiny, and this publication has already built the record for why. The Guyana Development Bank Bill passed its second reading and full passage on July 27 without debate. Section 5(2) of that Act leaves collateral and interest terms to ministerial and board discretion, at odds with the public pitch of interest-free, no-collateral lending. The board itself is structured with sole appointment discretion resting with the Finance Minister — no reserved seats for opposition, civil society, or independent transparency nominees. This publication has already documented one instance of the President publicly directing the Bank’s future lending priorities — toward bar soundproofing — before the Bank had opened, before an application process existed, and before a disbursement mechanism was in place.

The poultry hub proposal repeats that sequence. A discretionary fund, not yet fully operational, is being publicly assigned a use before the institution itself has published eligibility criteria, application procedures, or — most relevantly here — any framework for how forty individual farmers would hold and exercise an ownership stake in a jointly financed facility. Ownership structure is not a footnote in a cooperative arrangement; it is the load-bearing element the 2017 task force identified as the site of collapse when left ambiguous. Proposing the financing before resolving the ownership question is proposing the easy part first.

THE PATTERN, NOT THE PERSON

This publication draws no conclusion here about what motivates the President to generate structural proposals at the podium in response to constituent complaints. That is not something available for verification from a wire report, and it is not necessary to the argument. What is available for verification is the pattern itself: a complaint is raised, a structural remedy is proposed on the spot, the remedy is reported by state and allied media as a policy in motion, and the substantive work — site, financing terms, governance, viability — is left, by the government’s own account, for later.

Rose Hall’s soundproofing pledge followed this shape. The Model Village Initiative’s infrastructure renders followed this shape. The Region Two poultry hub follows it now.

A cooperative model failed in Guyana before, and it failed for reasons a government-commissioned study wrote down in detail nine years ago. Reviving that model without reference to that study — without a viability assessment, without a governance framework, without so much as a named site — is not a new experiment.

It is the old one, run again, with the results not yet consulted.

THIS PUBLICATION ASKS

The 592 Guardian requests that the Office of the President and the Ministry of Agriculture disclose, in writing:

  1. Whether any viability study — of the kind the 2017 cooperative sector task force identified as a precondition — has been conducted or commissioned for the proposed Region Two poultry cluster;
  2. What governance and ownership framework, if any, has been drafted to define how participating farmers would hold, transfer, or exit an equity stake in the facility;
  3. Whether the Guyana Development Bank’s transitional secretariat has been formally briefed on this proposal, and whether any funds have been provisionally earmarked for it ahead of the Bank’s public launch.

— The Board

TWO VOICES, ONE COUNCIL

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TWO VOICES, ONE COUNCIL


The Bar Council speaks fluently when the Judiciary is threatened. It has not yet found the same language for seventy-three dead Guyanese


OPINION —August 2026

THE OCCASION FOR THIS COMPARISON

On 10 August 2026, the Bar Council of the Bar Association of Guyana issued a statement addressing media reports of a leaked internal correspondence among Judges of the Caribbean Court of Justice. The statement is unambiguous in its concern. It describes the unauthorized disclosure of internal judicial correspondence as a matter capable of bringing the administration of justice “into disrepute.”

It calls the act, if proven, “a gross breach of confidence and a serious dereliction of duty.” It urges that the President of the CCJ be afforded “sufficient latitude” to lead the Court according to his vision, subject to the Code of Judicial Conduct. It is, by any reasonable reading, a forceful and considered institutional intervention.

The 592 Guardian does not dispute the legitimacy of that statement. Confidentiality of judicial deliberation is a serious matter, and a Bar Association has standing — indeed, an obligation — to speak to it. The question this editorial raises is not whether the Council was right to speak on the CCJ leak. It is why the same Council, addressing a catastrophe that killed at least seventy-three Guyanese citizens and left dozens more missing, found only sympathy to offer, and nothing more.

WHAT THE RECORD SHOWS

On 22 July 2026, four days after the MV Barima capsized en route from Georgetown to Port Kaituma, the Bar Council issued its “Statement of Solidarity and Support.” It is a document of condolence. It extends “deepest sympathies” to the families of the dead, describes the Council as “profoundly saddened,” wishes survivors “strength, healing, and a full recovery,” and closes by joining “the nation in mourning the lives that have been lost while praying for comfort, healing, and peace.”

That is the entirety of the Council’s public position on the deadliest maritime disaster in Guyana’s modern history. A review of the Bar Association’s own media centre, and of its public social media channels, confirms that as of this writing, no further statement has followed.

◊ Not on the international Commission of Inquiry chaired by Justice Godfrey Phillip Smith, sworn in on 30 July with a mandate to establish facts, determine accountability, and recommend reforms.

◊ Nothing on the conflict of interest involving one of its own member’s— a sitting minister  professional relationship with an appointed commissioner.

◊ Not on the Terms of Reference published in the Official Gazette, which direct the Commission to examine vessel maintenance, certification, loading practices, and the conduct of state agencies above the level of the crew.

◊ Not on the murder charges laid against Captain Kevin Price, Chief Mate Rondell Roberts, and Goods Superintendent Delon Granderson — each facing seventy-two counts — nor on the due process protections owed to them as the matter proceeds through the Charity Magistrate’s Court alongside an international inquiry operating in full public view.

This last silence is the most difficult to explain. A Bar Association’s core institutional purpose is the protection of legal rights and fair process, particularly for the accused, particularly under public pressure, particularly when the pressure is most intense.

Three Guyanese citizens face the heaviest charge in the criminal code, multiplied seventy-two times, under conditions of extraordinary public anger. If there was ever a moment for the Council to speak in its own primary register — due process, fair trial rights, the presumption of innocence — this was it. It did not.

THE CONTRAST, SIDE BY SIDE

CCJ Leak Statement — Aug 2026

MV Barima Statement — 22 July 2026

“Gross breach of confidence”

“Serious dereliction of duty”

“Bring the administration of justice into disrepute”

“Deepest sympathies”

“Profoundly saddened”

“Stand in solidarity”

Institutional integrity of the CCJ invoked and defended

No reference to institutional integrity of any state agency

Explicit latitude urged for the CCJ President’s authority

No reference to the Commission of Inquiry, its Terms of Reference, or its work

Confidentiality and disclosure framed as a matter of principle

No reference to preservation or disclosure of maintenance, inspection, cargo, or communication records

Duty of members to the Court articulated in detail

No reference to the due process rights of the three persons charged

The disparity is not simply that one statement is longer or more detailed than the other. It is that the two statements draw on entirely different vocabularies. The CCJ statement speaks the language of institutions, duty, and consequence. The Barima statement speaks the language of grief.

Both languages have their place. But when the body capable of the former chooses only the latter in the face of mass state-linked death, the choice itself becomes the story.

WHAT THIS IS NOT

This editorial does not allege that the Council’s silence was purchased, ordered, or coordinated with the Government of Guyana. We have no evidence of that, and we do not suggest it. Institutional caution is a real and sometimes legitimate instinct — a Bar Association may reasonably hesitate to comment publicly on matters that are, or may become, sub judice while criminal charges are being prosecuted. That caution deserves to be named as a possible explanation, not dismissed.

But caution explains restraint. It does not explain three weeks of total silence on the existence of a Commission of Inquiry, the fairness of an ongoing prosecution, or the state’s own regulatory failures — none of which required the Council to prejudge a single fact. A Bar Association can call for an independent and timely inquiry, for the preservation of evidence, for respect for due process, and for accountability wherever the facts lead, without pronouncing a single person guilty or innocent. Those are not political demands. They are the ordinary vocabulary of a functioning Bar Association. It is a vocabulary the Council used fluently for the CCJ. It has not yet used it for the Barima.

The question is not whether the Bar Council expressed condolences. It did. The question is whether its intervention matched the gravity of a catastrophe involving mass death, a state-operated transport system, and the due process rights of three citizens now facing seventy-two counts of murder apiece.

— The Editorial Board

A PATTERN WORTH NAMING

This is not the first institution this news room  has documented responding with force to threats against the machinery of governance while offering only ceremony in the face of harm to ordinary Guyanese. It is a pattern this newsroom has traced across the Model Village consultations, the Development Bank Bill’s passage without debate, and the Region 10 administrative impasse: energetic institutional voice where institutional privilege is at stake, and comparative quiet where public accountability is owed.

The Bar Council’s conduct across these two statements fits that pattern precisely — not proof of coordination, but further evidence of a civic culture in which the instruments meant to hold power accountable reserve their sharpest words for their own house.

WHAT THE COUNCIL SHOULD DO

The remedy is straightforward, and it costs the Council nothing it has not already spent on the CCJ matter. The Bar Council should issue a further statement addressing the MV Barima tragedy on its merits as a matter of public law: affirming the necessity of an independent and transparent Commission of Inquiry, insisting on the preservation and disclosure of all relevant maintenance, inspection, cargo, and communication records, and affirming the due process rights of every person charged in connection with the disaster, including the presumption of innocence pending trial.

None of this requires the Council to take a side. It requires only that the Council speak in the register it has already shown it possesses.

Guyana does not lack institutions capable of forceful language. It lacks the consistent will to direct that language toward the country’s actual emergencies rather than its institutional grievances.

The Bar Council has, this month, demonstrated that it knows how to speak with teeth. Seventy-two families are still waiting to hear it use them.

Sources: Bar Council of the Bar Association of Guyana, “Statement by the Bar Council of the Bar Association of Guyana on Media Reports Concerning the Leak of Internal Correspondence Among the Judges of the Caribbean Court of Justice” (Aug. 2026); Bar Council of the Bar Association of Guyana, “Statement of Solidarity and Support by the Bar Council of the Bar Association of Guyana Following the MV Barima Tragedy” (22 July 2026); Guyana Chronicle, “MV Barima CoI Empowered to Probe Safety Failures, Recommend Prosecutions, Maritime Reforms — ToRs Outline” (4 Aug. 2026); Guyana Chronicle, “Boat Captain, Two Others Remanded on Murder Charges Over MV Barima Tragedy” (29 July 2026); Caribbean Broadcasting Corporation, “Guyana to Launch International Inquiry into MV Barima Tragedy.”

THE LOOP CLOSES: HOW THE STATE FED A FEED SHORTAGE, THEN CALLED IT A CRISIS

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THE LOOP CLOSES: HOW THE STATE FED A FEED SHORTAGE, THEN CALLED IT A CRISIS


Exclusive: Customs Records Show a Tacama Consortium Member Importing Brazilian Feed Duty-Free — Even As the Same Network Exported Guyana’s Soya and Now Seeks Relief for a Chicken Shortage It Helped Create


August,2026 Staff — Investigations Desk

In April, this newsroom asked a question the government has never answered: why, four months after the State-funded Tacama corn-and-soya project began exporting its harvest to Barbados, was Guyana still relying on poultry import waivers to keep chicken on the table? We called it “alchemy” — public capital turned into private export surplus, while the domestic market absorbed the shortfall through the back door.

On August 11, the government made that back door the front page. Agriculture Minister Zulfikar Mustapha announced a formal, 330,000-pound-per-week chicken import program, brokered through the New Guyana Marketing Corporation (New GMC), at the direct request of the Guyana Poultry Producers Association (GPPA) — a body whose leadership includes the same consortium interests that built Tacama.

What we could not prove in April, we can now document. A Guyana Revenue Authority exemption letter and a corresponding Customs & Excise declaration, obtained by this newsroom, show that Royal Chicken Inc. — a founding member of the Tacama consortium — secured duty-free, VAT-free entry for 1,500 tons of Brazilian soyabean meal in February 2026, alongside a separate 100-metric-ton shipment of crude soyabean oil from the same Brazilian supplier weeks earlier. Both moved through the Lethem border crossing. Neither shipment came from Tacama.

“The soya beans are exported; the chickens are imported; the money is extracted; and the people are left to pay.”

WHAT THE RECORDS SHOW

The first document is a Guyana Revenue Authority letter, addressed to Rasheed Baksh, General Manager of Royal Chicken Inc., approving a customs duty exemption under the Customs Act and a VAT zero-rating under the Value-Added Tax Act for 1,500 tons of soyabean meal, sourced from North Link Brazil Ltda under a commercial invoice dated February 9, 2026. The exemption is explicitly tied to the stated end-use of the goods and is valid for three months from issue.

The second is a Customs & Excise Department import declaration dated January 26, 2026, recording a separate 100-metric-ton shipment of crude soyabean oil, again from North Link Brazil Ltda of Boa Vista, Roraima, again consigned to Royal Chicken Inc., cleared through the Lethem Multipurpose Complex with a customs value of roughly GY$29.8 million.

Taken individually, these are routine trade filings. Taken together, and set against the public record of Tacama’s stated purpose, they document something else: a consortium member built on the promise of import-substitution, drawing duty-free feed inputs from Brazil in the same window that its own consortium was preparing to export Guyana-grown soya to Barbados.

THE CONSTRUCT

None of this happened in the abstract. Tacama was sold to the Guyanese public in specific terms — cheaper feed, cheaper chicken and eggs, thousands of jobs, and an end to dependence on imported feed inputs that, by the government’s own figures, cost the country close to US$30 million annually before the project began. More than $1.4 billion in public infrastructure — roads, wharves, drying facilities, storage — was committed to make that promise real, benefiting a consortium dominated by Royal Chicken, Guyana Stockfeed, Bounty Farm, Edun Farms, SBM Wood & Dubulay, and the Brazilian-owned NF Agriculture.

On April 12, the government announced the first-ever export of Tacama soya to Barbados, framed by President Ali as evidence of a “full ecosystem for production, value addition, and export.” No tonnage was ever disclosed. No outlet — state or independent — has since published a customs figure for that shipment, or confirmed it moved on schedule.

Every report on the export, without exception, was a verbatim rewrite of the same Department of Public Information release.

Four months later, the same producer class that stood to benefit from that export is the one that went to government asking for emergency chicken imports. GPPA’s own representatives raised declining production against rising demand in the meeting that produced Monday’s announcement. The Association making the request and the consortium exporting the input are not separate interests — Bounty Farm and Royal Chicken sit inside both.

This is the construct: export the surplus when the optics favor it, import the shortfall when the market requires it, and let the public carry the difference in price and in the appearance of scarcity.

A shortage that follows an unmeasured export is not evidence of bad luck. It is evidence of a choice.

SELF-SUFFICIENCY, EXCEPT WHEN IT ISN’T

The Royal Chicken exemption raises a sharper question than the export alone did: was Tacama ever load-bearing for its own consortium’s feed supply, or was it one input stream among several — including a tax-free Brazilian one — while the public-facing justification for the subsidy remained self-sufficiency and import substitution?

A company does not need duty-free access to 1,500 tons of Brazilian soyabean meal, on top of a separate 100-ton crude oil shipment, if the domestic project built to supply it is functioning as advertised. The exemption does not prove Tacama failed outright — but it proves that at least one flagship beneficiary was not relying on it exclusively, at the same time the government was publicising Tacama’s harvest as sufficient to export.

THE SCALE THIS IMPLIES

This newsroom is in possession of one exemption letter, for one company, for one quarter. Royal Chicken is one of at least six named consortium members. If comparable volumes were required by even two or three of the others — and there is no public reason to assume Royal Chicken’s needs were unique among them — the implied annual Brazilian feed import volume tied to this “self-sufficiency” project runs into the tens of thousands of tons, not the fifteen hundred documented here.

We state that plainly as an implication, not a finding. It is not proven by the two documents in our possession, and we will not present it as though it were. But it is the direct and reasonable consequence of the only hard figures currently public: one consortium member, one exemption, fifteen hundred tons, three months’ validity — multiplied across a consortium the government itself credited with transforming Guyana into a “regional powerhouse.”

The government, not this newsroom, is positioned to close that gap. It holds the full set of GRA exemption records. The public does not.

A TRAIL THAT WENT QUIET

The outlet that first obtained the Royal Chicken exemption letter found, in the aftermath, that comparable records for other consortium members were no longer forthcoming. We note this not as speculation but as a documented change in access: a single leak surfaced one company’s exemption, and the channel that produced it did not produce others.

That pattern is itself part of the story. A government confident that Tacama’s feed supply was adequate, and that duty-free Brazilian imports by consortium members were incidental rather than structural, would have no reason to make the underlying exemption data harder to obtain once one instance became public.

The opacity that followed the leak is not proof of wrongdoing on its own — but it is not the behaviour of an administration eager to demonstrate that the first document was an outlier.

WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN NOW

  • The Guyana Revenue Authority should publish, or make available under access-to-information request, the full register of duty and VAT exemptions granted to Tacama consortium members for feed-input imports over the past 24 months, by company, tonnage, and origin.
  • New GMC and the Ministry of Agriculture should disclose the actual tonnage of soya exported to Barbados in April, and confirm whether the shipment moved on the announced timeline.
  • The Ministry should account for the gap between Tacama’s reported harvest volumes and the consortium’s own import figures, so the public can judge whether the project is supplementing or substituting for imported feed.
  • GPPA should disclose which of its member companies will be distributing the 330,000 pounds of weekly imported chicken now being facilitated through New GMC, given the overlap between its membership and the Tacama consortium.

The government’s own language in April promised an “ecosystem” — production, value addition, export. What the documented record now shows is a narrower and more familiar arrangement: public money underwrites the platform, a private consortium draws inputs from whichever source is cheapest in a given quarter, and when the domestic shelf runs short, the same government that funded the platform steps back in to license the import that fills it.

The public pays three times — for the infrastructure, for the shortage, and for the imported chicken that follows 

Until the Ministry of Agriculture and the Guyana Revenue Authority release the fuller record, the two documents at the centre of this report stand as the clearest public evidence yet that Tacama’s self-sufficiency narrative and its consortium’s actual sourcing practices have not been the same thing.

— The Board

SOURCES & DOCUMENTATION

  1. Guyana Revenue Authority, letter to Mr. Rasheed Baksh, General Manager, Royal Chicken Inc., “Re: Tax Exemption — Royal Chicken Inc. (Raw Materials),” approving exemption for 1,500 tons soyabean meal per Commercial Invoice No. 003/2026 (Feb. 9, 2026), North Link Brazil Ltda. Signed for the Commissioner-General by Gavin Low; copied to the Comptroller of Customs, Excise & Trade Operations, the Deputy Commissioner of Law Enforcement & Investigation, and the Auditor General.
  2. Guyana Customs & Excise Department, Single Administrative Document / import declaration, Lethem Branch Office, dated Jan. 26, 2026, recording 100 metric tons of crude (non-degummed) soyabean oil, exporter North Link Brazil Ltda (Boa Vista, Roraima), consignee Royal Chicken Inc. (Lot 60, Garden of Eden, East Bank Demerara), customs value GY$29,815,500.
  3. “Subsidised Soya, Exported Feed, Imported Chicken,” The 592 Guardian, April 30, 2026.
  4. Department of Public Information (Guyana), press release on the poultry market stabilisation measure and Minister Mustapha’s meeting with the Private Sector Commission, Aug. 11, 2026.
  5. Prior Guardian and public reporting on the Tacama corn-and-soya project, consortium membership, and public infrastructure investment, 2023–2026.              

WHEN A JUDGE WRITES TO WARN A PRIME MINISTER: THE CCJ’S CRISIS OF CONFIDENCE

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WHEN A JUDGE WRITES TO WARN A PRIME MINISTER: THE CCJ’S CRISIS OF CONFIDENCE


OPINION BY: Staff Writer

An internal reckoning at the Caribbean Court of Justice has reached the desk of a head of government

The dispute engulfing the Caribbean Court of Justice has stopped being an internal matter. It is now a regional one.

In a June 2026 email exchanged among his fellow judges of the CCJ, Justice Arif Bulkan — the Guyanese-born jurist who sits on the region’s court of last resort — made a statement that reaches well beyond the corridors of the tribunal’s Port of Spain headquarters. The very concerns that have led Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar to distrust the CCJ, Bulkan wrote, center on the risk of a single judge imposing a legal position contrary to that of the majority.

The appellate process, he said, exists specifically to guard against that kind of bias, and to preserve the integrity of the institution.

That sentence does two things at once. It confirms, from inside the court, that a sitting head of government has expressed distrust of the CCJ’s leadership. And it identifies, in a sitting judge’s own words, the precise institutional failure she is said to distrust: the concentration of authority in one office holder — CCJ President Justice Winston Anderson.

WHAT BULKAN TOLD HIS COLLEAGUES

Bulkan’s email was direct about where authority does and does not lie inside the court. The content of judgments, he wrote, is “very clearly a matter within our sole discretion as independent office holders.” He went further, noting that the appellate process “by its very definition requires a panel of more than one judge to consider an appeal and to independently come to a decision” — a structural safeguard that is undermined the moment one judge is able to determine, alone, who sits and who does not.

“…there are constructive ways of fulfilling such obligations, one of which includes being respectful of colleagues’ opinions, recognizing peers as equals and treating them accordingly and not dismissing their concerns…” — Justice Arif Bulkan

 

Read plainly, this is a judge of the region’s apex court telling its president, in writing, that he has fallen short of the standard collegiality requires.

THE ALLEGATIONS ON RECORD

Bulkan’s email sits inside a wider chain of correspondence among CCJ judges, exchanged amid escalating complaints against Justice Anderson. Those complaints — attributed to the judges raising them, and not verified findings of fact — include claims that Anderson unilaterally imposed a judicial dress code; accusations of “panel fixing”; and claims that he attempted to influence the outcome of cases before the court. A majority of the court’s judges, according to the same correspondence, have accused Anderson of running the regional court in a manner they characterized as “authoritarian” and “dictatorial.”

These are serious allegations, made by sitting judges against the president of their own court. They should be read as exactly that: allegations, contested and as yet unadjudicated by any outside body. But their source matters. This is not commentary from outside critics of the CCJ.

It is an internal reckoning, conducted in writing, by the judges responsible for the institution’s credibility.

WHY THIS IS NOW KAMLA PERSAD-BISSESSAR’S PROBLEM

The CCJ is not simply another regional body. It is headquartered in Trinidad and Tobago, and its credibility as the region’s apex appellate court rests in large part on the confidence of the governments — and the publics — it serves. When Bulkan frames his colleagues’ concerns as the same concerns driving Kamla Persad-Bissessar’s distrust of the court, he is not speculating.

He is describing an alignment between an internal judicial complaint and an external political one.That alignment is what turns this from a story about judicial temperament into a story about regional governance.

A prime minister’s confidence — or lack of it — in the CCJ is not a private opinion. It bears directly on the willingness of CARICOM member states to submit to the court’s appellate jurisdiction, on the perceived legitimacy of its rulings, and on the broader project of regional judicial integration that the CCJ was built to serve.

The Trinidad Express has sent questions via WhatsApp to Prime Minister Persad-Bissessar, seeking her response to the allegations against Justice Anderson and asking directly whether the claims raised by his fellow judges have affected her confidence in the CCJ’s leadership. As of this writing, no answer has been made public.

THE SILENCE IS ITSELF A FINDING

That silence should not be read as neutral. 592 Guardian readers will recall the CCJ’s own pattern in responding to scrutiny: when questions were first raised over Justice Eboe-Osuji’s removal from a Trinidad and Tobago/Jamaica/CARICOM panel earlier this year, the court ignored fifteen direct questions before issuing a statement — on a Friday night — that addressed none of the specific allegations put to it. (See our earlier coverage: “A Robe, a Ruling, and the Real Question at the CCJ.”)

A pattern is now visible: serious institutional questions are met first with silence, then with a statement that restates the court’s confidence in itself without engaging the substance of what was asked. Whether that pattern holds with Prime Minister Persad-Bissessar’s office remains to be seen.

WHAT GUYANA — AND THE REGION — SHOULD BE ASKING

Guyana has direct stakes in the CCJ’s integrity that extend beyond institutional propriety. The court’s earlier ruling in TCL v Guyana established that a private cross-border actor can hold a member state to account under the Revised Treaty of Chaguaramas — a precedent whose future application is itself entangled in the same panel dispute that produced this email chain. That is a separate matter, addressed at length in our earlier reporting, and it is not necessary to relitigate it here.

What is necessary is to ask, plainly, what happens next. Does a CARICOM head of government’s documented distrust of the CCJ’s leadership warrant a public response — to her own citizens, and to the citizens of every state that has submitted to the court’s jurisdiction? Does the CCJ’s own governance structure permit an independent review of a sitting president’s conduct, given that a majority of his fellow judges have raised the alarm in writing? And if the appellate process exists, as Justice Bulkan says, “to guard against” one judge overriding the rest — what safeguard exists when the judge in question is the one who presides over the entire court?

Those are not rhetorical questions. They are owed answers — by Justice Anderson, by the CCJ as an institution, and now, by Prime Minister Persad-Bissessar.

— The Board