Archive for category: Opinions

THE 592 GUARDIAN ¤ ACCOUNTABILITY JOURNALISM ¤ GUYANA

Readiness Is Not an Occasion — It’s a Standing Duty

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OPINION BY: Staff Writer

The Watooka deployment shows the State can move fast. The MV Barima disaster shows what happens when it doesn’t have to.

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On August 4, 2026, the Vice President’s public outreach at Watooka House in Linden met a wall of protest. Barriers went down. Gates were forced. And within a short window, the machinery of the Guyanese state answered in full: GDF Coast Guard, the Police Marine Unit, and elements of the Joint Services on the ground to secure the Vice President and his entourage.

No one disputes that the safety of state officials matters. What the  592 Guardian is asking — on behalf of the families of over 100 people who did not come home from the MV Barima — is why that same machinery, with those same institutional muscles, which was reportedly less than 2  hours away from a stricken vessel and a distress call placed at approximately 10:00 p.m. was not operationalized in a similar manner? 

THE EXCUSE THAT DOESN’T HOLD

The predictable defense is that Watooka was scheduled and Barima was not — that planners had daylight and lead time for one, and only a dark river for the other.

We have made this argument’s rebuttal before, and we make it again here in sharper terms: a standing military and security apparatus does not get to claim surprise. Readiness for the unexpected is the entire premise of what these forces exist to do, in Guyana as everywhere else. 

“A Coast Guard that cannot answer a night distress call is not an underfunded Coast Guard having an off night — it is a Coast Guard that has failed at its only non-negotiable function.”

 

GUYANA HAS EVEN LESS EXCUSE THAN MOST

This is not an abstract, textbook point for this country. Guyana’s Joint Services live under a standing, unscheduled threat posture already — repeated incursions and shooting incidents along the Venezuela border have required exactly the kind of no-notice, any-hour readiness that a night-time maritime distress call also demands.

The State cannot simultaneously maintain that its forces are postured and prepared for sudden hostile action across the western border, and then explain away a slow response to a sinking ferry as an unavoidable casualty of the hour.

Either the readiness exists as a standing condition — in which case it should have reached the Barima that night — or it does not, in which case the country deserves to know what, exactly, all the preparedness rhetoric around border security has actually bought it.

WHAT TODAY’S DEPLOYMENT PROVES

We are not asking the State to explain why it protected the Vice President today. That response was appropriate. We are asking the State to explain why the same coordination, the same speed, and the same command reflexes were not already the baseline — every night, on every river, for every vessel — before 179 people needed them and did not get them in time.

THE QUESTIONS BEFORE THE COMMISSION

These are not accusations. They are questions the Commission of Inquiry has both the mandate and the obligation to answer, plainly and on the record:

• Could a Watooka-level response have reached the MV Barima in to save additional lives?
• What emergency response systems were actually in place and operational on the night of July 18?
• Were the State’s legal obligations on vessel inspection, maritime safety, and emergency preparedness fulfilled — not in principle, but in fact, that night?                                                                                       

The people of Guyana have now watched their state move with speed and coordination when the safety of an official was on the line. They are entitled to ask why the same was not true when the safety of  one hundred and seventy-nine ordinary citizens was on the line. Preparedness cannot be occasion-specific. Accountability cannot be either. ONE GUYANA?

— The Board

THE 592 GUARDIAN♣ACCOUNTABILITY♣GOVERNANCE ♣ GUYANA

ON THE PUBLIC RECORD

A God-Given Right to Grieving Doorsteps

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How a government that failed Region One in life now tours it in the aftermath — and answers grief with a tighter perimeter

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By Hem Kumar, Editor♦August, 2026

There is a particular kind of arrogance that does not shout. It does not need to. It simply shows up — uninvited, unrepentant, and unbothered — on the doorstep of people it has already failed once, certain of its welcome.                                                                                                         This week, the Ali administration showed Guyana exactly what that arrogance looks like, and it wore the faces of the two ministers most responsible for the deadliest maritime disaster in the country’s history.

On August 5, under the banner of a “One-Day Cabinet Outreach” to Region One, Minister of Public Works Juan Edghill walked into Koberimo village in Barima-Waini to “engage” with residents. The same day, Minister of Public Utilities and Aviation Deodat Indar sat down with residents at Kwebanna Primary School. Prime Minister Mark Phillips, accompanied by Chief Investment Officer Peter Ramsaroop, made his own stop in Yarakita, in the Mabaruma sub-district.

All three men walked into the region that absorbed the heaviest toll of the MV Barima tragedy — a region still burying its children, still short of answers, still waiting for the Commission of Inquiry to take its first day of evidence.

This is not oversight. It cannot be. Somewhere in the planning of this tour, someone had to look at a map of Region One, a casualty list, and a resignation demand that has followed Edghill and Indar since July 28 — and decide to send them in anyway.

That decision is the story. Everything else this week is commentary on it.

THE LEDGER BEFORE THE HANDSHAKE

Before Edghill or Indar set foot in Barima-Waini this week, the public record already held their names to account. Edghill’s own claims in the hours after the July 18 capsizing — that the vessel was not overloaded — proved wrong and took days and multiple revisions to correct. Transparency International Guyana Inc. has called for his recusal, not as a prejudgment of what sank the ferry, but on the plain conflict-of-interest grounds that a minister who spoke inaccurately about his own ministry’s disaster within hours of it happening cannot credibly oversee the inquiry into it.

Indar was named alongside him also and within days, in a joint opposition protest that saw MPs march into the National Assembly dressed in black, wearing placards bearing photographs of the dead.

Prime Minister Phillips carries his own ledger. He is the official who stood in the House and pronounced conditions “not favorable” for salvaging the wreck — a declaration that preceded, by 592 Guardian’s own timeline, a document being circulated to grieving families asking them to sign consent for the vessel to remain on the seabed as a memorial site. He is also the man caught, on video this editor has personally verified, in a hallway confrontation with Hadiyyah Mohamed, sister of Opposition Leader Azruddin Mohamed, in which his own security made physical contact with her before he called them off himself.

These are not men without a file. Sending them to Region One this week was not a neutral act of government outreach. It was a choice to place the very officials the bereaved have been demanding removed directly in front of the bereaved — and to call it listening.

WHAT “LISTENING” LOOKED LIKE

 The 592 Guardian’s own observation of Edghill’s arrival in Koberimo tells its own story. He was met not by an eager crowd grateful for the visit, but by a handful of residents — mostly women — holding placards. Waiting alongside them was a heavy police presence, officers in flak jackets, positioned less like an honour guard than a warning to anyone else who might have been thinking of joining the demonstration.

Ask what kind of government sends a disgraced minister to shake hands with the grieving, and then answers the grief that shows up with riot gear, and the honest answer is: a government more interested in managing the optics of accountability than in being accountable. The flak jackets were not there to protect Edghill from Koberimo. They were there to remind Koberimo what happens if it pushes back.

Nowhere in the government’s own press language — “engaging with residents,” “discussing critical infrastructure priorities,” “providing updates on ongoing and planned public works initiatives” — does the word Barima appear. The disaster that killed their neighbours, that emptied seats in the Port Kaituma Primary School where two small brothers were laid to rest in a shared grave, is simply absent from the official account of why Edghill was there.

It is buried inside a routine outreach photo opportunity, alongside toshao-raised infrastructure matters, as though grief were just one more line item on the agenda.

A TOUR THAT STARTED WITH A WARNING

None of this happened in a vacuum. The day before the Region One tour began, Vice President Bharrat Jagdeo’s own outreach event at Watooka House in Linden was met by a protest that would not be managed quietly.                                                                                          After being told the Vice President would meet them “in ten minutes,” protesters waited half an hour, then surged forward and tore down the security barricades themselves. What followed was a six-hour standoff. APNU leader Aubrey Norton joined the picket line in person. Demonstrators demanded Edghill and Indar’s resignations, and the long-overdue election of a Region 10 Chairman and Vice Chairman. Jagdeo did not come out to meet them. He left under security escort roughly eight hours after the standoff began, without ever addressing the crowd he had kept waiting.

That is the immediate backdrop against which Edghill, Indar, and Phillips walked into Region One the very next day.                                    A government that watched its own Vice President’s barricades come down in Linden did not respond by reconsidering whether to send the two most-demanded resignations into the region hit hardest by the disaster.

It responded by tightening the perimeter and sending them anyway — this time with flak jackets waiting at the dock.

THE BOAT THAT DIDN’T GET THROUGH

The same day Edghill was in Koberimo, Opposition Leader Azruddin Mohamed’s chartered speedboat was stopped by the Guyana Defence Force Coast Guard at the Pomeroon Floating Base, as he made his way to a peaceful protest in Moruca. The GDF’s account is that this was a routine inspection: the vessel’s captain could not produce a valid boat master’s licence, vessel licence, and certificate of inspection, and was directed back to Charity to obtain them.

Mohamed’s account complicates that framing considerably. He says the boat had departed Charity around 7:30 a.m. and had already passed the same checkpoint earlier that morning without being asked for any documentation. It was only on returning to check in — after a soldier’s presence and a request to photograph the boat’s occupants, which they did not resist — that the licensing demand was made. If that timeline holds, the “routine inspection” defence collapses on its own facts: a genuinely routine procedure does not selectively remember to ask for paperwork only on the trip carrying the Leader of the Opposition to a demonstration.

APNU parliamentary leader Dr. Terrence Campbell was blunt about what he believes this represents, calling it a weaponisation of the Guyana Defence Force against the constitutional rights to freedom of movement and freedom of association, and linking it directly to the security posture deployed at Watooka the day before. Whatever the truth of the licensing dispute, the sequence itself is now on the public record: barricades breached in Linden on Wednesday, heavier security in Region One and an intercepted opposition boat on Thursday. That is not coincidence.

That is a government recalibrating its defences after being confronted by grief, rather than recalibrating its conduct.

THE EPITOME OF AN UNCARING GOVERNMENT

Strip away the press-release language and what is left is a simple, ugly picture. A government whose named ministers failed the people of Region One in life is now touring their villages in the aftermath, expecting to be received — and deploying flak-jacketed police and Coast Guard checkpoints to manage anyone who declines to receive them warmly.

It is a government that has confused proximity with accountability, and access with forgiveness, as though showing up were itself an act of grace rather than the bare minimum owed to families still without full answers on how their loved ones died.

No one is arguing that ministers should never again set foot in Region One. The opposite is true: the region deserves sustained, serious engagement — infrastructure, healthcare, honest answers on the Commission of Inquiry’s timeline, and support for the mourning that is nowhere near finished.

What it does not deserve is a stage-managed visit from the very men whose names appear on resignation placards, flanked by riot gear, dressed up as consultation. That is not listening.

It is a government that believes turning up is itself a form of forgiveness it is entitled to receive, whether or not the aggrieved are prepared to give it.

Guyana is watching a pattern now, not an incident: Watooka’s barricades, Koberimo’s flak jackets, a stopped boat on the Pomeroon. Each one is a government answering grief and dissent with a tighter perimeter instead of an honest reckoning.

That is the epitome of an uncaring government — not merely indifferent to what its citizens have suffered, but unwilling to let that suffering interrupt its own schedule.

— The 592 Guardian

THE 592 GUARDIAN ◊ACCOUNTABILITY JOURNALISM◊ GUYANA

 MV BARIMA · ACCOUNTABILITY & THE RULE OF LAW

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Did Our Constitution Also Sank With the Barima?

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Fifteen attorneys stood before the court on Monday. Not one asked the question the Constitution obliges someone to ask.

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Board Editorial

On Monday, the matter of Kevin Price, Rondell Roberts and Delon Granderson was called for hearing, and once more it was adjourned. Attorney-at-law Eden Corbin, speaking on behalf of a defence team numbering more than fifteen lawyers, confirmed that the prosecution had complied with an earlier direction to produce part of its case file. The matter was set down for September.

The three accused, each presumed innocent under the Constitution of Guyana, returned to custody, where they have now remained since charges were instutited.

What did not happen on Monday deserves at least as much scrutiny as what did. Despite the presence of more than fifteen attorneys-at-law, no application for bail was made. No application for constitutional relief was made. The defence, by its own team’s account as reported, offered no explanation for the omission.

This is not a case where the absence of an argument can be attributed to a shortage of counsel, or a shortage of time to prepare one. It is the presence of capacity alongside the absence of a specific argument that ought to trouble every Guyanese who takes the Constitution seriously.

A GAP THE STATE WROTE INTO LAW

Guyana’s shipping regulations, as maritime scholar Robert C. Millington has documented, divide vessels into two regimes.

One governs small boats under twenty-four metres, and requires stability checks, passenger counts and safety drills. The other governs cargo vessels, and explicitly excludes anything carrying passengers.

The MV Barima measured roughly 40.26 metres. She was too large for the small-boat protections and specifically excluded from the cargo-ship regime. She fell, by Millington’s account, into a gap where almost nothing statutory applied to her at all — a gap in which, on his reckoning, a wooden ferry half her size carried more legal safety obligations than the vessel the state placed over 170 lives upon.

This is not a detail confined to a scholarly footnote. It reframes the entire premise on which continued detention has so far rested.             A regulatory vacuum of this kind is not an accident of poor drafting discovered after the fact. It is, on the documented record, a hole regulators had years to notice and did not close.

Section 3(3) of the Guyana Shipping Act names MARAD’s own Director as the legal owner of state-registered vessels, collapsing the distinction between regulator and regulated.

MARAD itself disclosed, following an earlier fatal incident in 2022, that it employed only six certified marine surveyors to inspect more than 2,000 vessels — and was still advertising a vacant surveyor’s post as recently as December 2025, months before the Barima went down.

The state cannot rely on the gravity of this tragedy to justify continued detention while its own statute book explains why no one was ever required to determine whether the tragedy could be prevented.

 

NINE QUESTIONS, AND WHO CAN ACTUALLY ANSWER THEM

Millington’s paper poses the questions that any serious inquiry into the Barima disaster must answer: whether the vessel was seaworthy, who certified it, whether prior inspection reports were acted upon, whether stability calculations were properly performed, whether lifesaving systems were operational, whether regulatory agencies were aware of deficiencies, and whether management decisions — agency management as much as ship’s management — contributed to what happened.

Set against the 24-metre gap, these questions answer themselves in one crucial respect: they are institutional questions, resting on institutional records, answerable by MARAD’s own inspection archive and by the technical panel now empanelled on the Commission of Inquiry.

These are not questions whose answers sit in the possession of a captain, a chief mate, or a loading superintendent.

That distinction is not a defence brief. It is a constitutional one. Continued remand is not punishment; it is an exceptional measure that temporarily restrains persons who remain presumed innocent, and it must be justified on grounds recognised by law — flight risk, interference with witnesses, obstruction of justice.

If the true justification offered is the scale of the tragedy itself, that is not a ground the Constitution recognises. And if the technical evidence required to establish where responsibility actually lies is not in the defendants’ possession but in the state’s own regulatory archive — an archive the state is still assembling before its own Commission of Inquiry — then the argument for continued detention weakens with each week that archive remains incomplete.

FIFTEEN LAWYERS, AND A SILENCE THAT REQUIRES AN ANSWER

Defence attorney Dexter Todd has, to his credit, made much of this record publicly. He has argued that seaworthiness was never the crew’s responsibility to determine, that the charges were laid before any comprehensive technical investigation had begun, and that the prosecution’s claim of overloading was made before an official manifest was verified.

These are, in substance, the facts that would support a constitutional application under Article 139, which protects personal liberty, and Article 144, which guarantees a fair hearing within a reasonable time. They are not new facts. They have been on the public record since the week the charges were laid.

What has not appeared, from a defence team now numbering more than fifteen attorneys, is the application itself. This publication  does not know why. We decline to speculate as to motive, and we caution others against doing so absent evidence. But the absence itself is a matter of public record, and it is a matter this news outlet is entitled — indeed obliged — to note.

A team of that size is not wanting for the capacity to file a constitutional motion.

Whatever the reason for the omission, the effect is the same: the one avenue expressly provided by the Constitution to test whether continued detention remains lawful has not, to date, been tested.

TWO OBJECTIVES, NOT ONE

Every Guyanese should want those responsible for this tragedy identified through a fair, independent and evidence-based process.        Every Guyanese should also want to ensure that no citizen loses his liberty except in accordance with the Constitution. These are not competing objectives. They are the same objective, viewed from two directions. A justice system that secures a conviction while bypassing the liberty guarantees that make the conviction legitimate has not vindicated the 73 lives lost on the Barima. It has simply added a further, quieter injury to the ledger.

The Constitution did not sink with the MV Barima. But it will not defend itself either. If the facts already on the public record — a regulatory gap the state had years to close, a surveyor shortage the state itself disclosed, a manifest the state has not verified — do not warrant a constitutional test of continued detention, this publication  struggles to imagine what would.

That test has not yet been brought. Guyana is entitled to ask why.

— THE BOARD

THE 592 GUARDIAN ♦ ACCOUNTABILITY JOURNALISM GUYANA

When the State Fails, Communities Must Not Become the Safety Net

The National Toshaos’ Council deserves credit for moving to support families affected by the MV Barima tragedy. But let us be clear: the very need for such an initiative is a troubling commentary on the condition of public accountability and emergency response in Guyana.

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This is not simply a story of compassion. It is a story of burden shifting. When families in mourning must rely on a parallel assistance drive organized by the NTC, the state is effectively admitting — whether openly or by omission — that its own response is insufficient, too slow, or too narrow to meet the scale of the moment. That should disturb every citizen.

The government cannot continue to rely on sympathy, statements, and ceremonial solidarity while victims and their families are left to navigate uncertainty. A tragedy of this magnitude demands more than words. It demands a structured, transparent, and sustained national response that reaches every affected household, not just those who are easiest to see or easiest to assist.

 

The NTC has said its initiative is intended to complement the support already being provided by the Government of Guyana and communities across the country. That wording is careful, but it also reveals the problem. If the state were truly meeting the need, there would be little reason for a major Indigenous institution to step in with its own parallel relief mechanism.

The fact that it has done so is a reminder that grief in Guyana is too often followed by improvisation, and improvisation is not governance.

 What makes this even more serious is the wider context surrounding the MV Barima tragedy. The calls for transparency and an independent review did not emerge from nowhere. They reflect a public hunger for answers, accountability, and assurance that the same failures will not be repeated. Where those answers are delayed or diluted, trust begins to erode. Where trust erodes, every subsequent promise from the state becomes harder to believe.

This is where government mediocrity reveals itself most clearly. Not in grand speeches, but in the spaces where citizens expect competence and receive confusion.

Not in the language of sympathy, but in the mechanics of response. Not in the announcement of concern, but in the delivery of care. If a national tragedy can produce dependence on a charity-style response from communities and Indigenous leaders, then the state must ask itself uncomfortable questions about readiness, capacity, and seriousness of purpose.

 The NTC’s initiative should therefore be welcomed — but not romanticized. It is a commendable act of solidarity, yet it is also an indictment of a system that still seems to require civil society and community institutions to patch the holes left by government inaction or inadequacy. Guyanese people should not have to wonder whether the institutions meant to protect them will rise to the occasion only after others have already stepped in.

The real test now is whether the government will treat this tragedy as a public responsibility requiring humility, urgency, and accountability, or as another moment to issue assurances and move on. Families affected by the MV Barima disaster need more than empathy. They need sustained support, truthful explanations, and a state that behaves as though their lives matter beyond the headlines.

If this moment is allowed to pass without decisive action, then the lesson will be painfully simple: in Guyana, communities still have to do too much of the state’s work. That is not resilience. It is a failure of governance.

THE 592 GUARDIAN◊ ACCOUNTABILITY JOURNALISM◊ GUYANA

Leadership

EDITORIAL

A President’s Silence, Engineered

In times of national tragedy, leadership demands more than a carefully scripted video statement. It demands accountability, submitted in person, under questions the speaker does not control. With seventy-three lives lost, dozens still unaccounted for, and grieving families still waiting on answers, President Irfaan Ali’s continued refusal to face Guyana’s local press corps sends an unmistakable message.

A livestream is not a press conference. It asks nothing of the person delivering it. It permits no follow-up, tolerates no interruption, and closes the moment the recording stops.

This would be a serious enough failure of leadership on its own.

What The 592 Guardian has documented over the past two weeks, however, is not a single missed press conference. It is a pattern — a set of choices, made in sequence, that has had the cumulative effect of insulating the presidency from precisely the scrutiny a disaster of this scale demands.

A COMMISSION ASSEMBLED IN THE PRESIDENT’S OWN IMAGE

A Commission of Inquiry may, in time, establish how the MV Barima came to sink. It cannot substitute for the President’s own duty to answer the nation directly. And the manner in which that Commission was built gives Guyanese every reason to ask whether it was designed to find the truth, or to manage it.

Every member of the five-person Commission was appointed unilaterally by President Ali, sworn in behind closed doors at State House on July 30 with no press present.

Commissioner Nyree Dawn Alfonso, of the Trinidad and Tobago firm ND Alfonso and Associates, shares that firm with Keoma Griffith — now Guyana’s Minister of Labour — with whom she is documented as co-counsel in a 2025 Supreme Court matter.

Griffith’s own listing on the firm’s website was quietly removed in the days immediately before Alfonso’s swearing-in. Separately, Griffith has been named by families of the 2023 Mahdia dormitory fire as the attorney who pressed them toward a compensation package they now allege was coercive. The Commission’s newly named Secretary, attorney Javed Shadick, previously held the identical post for both the Mahdia inquiry and the 2020 elections Commission of Inquiry — and is the nephew of the late Bibi Shadick, a senior PPP parliamentarian and minister under the Jagdeo administration.

None of this proves that any individual commissioner will act in bad faith. But Article 13 of Guyana’s Constitution commits the State to inclusionary democracy — governance that is seen to be open, not merely asserted to be so.

An inquiry into a disaster of national scale, built entirely from the President’s own selections and undisclosed professional overlaps, does not meet that standard no matter how capable its individual members may be. The 592 Guardian has formally requested that the Office of the President publish the vetting records behind each appointment.

That request stands unanswered.

If the government believes in the independence of its own inquiry, it should have no fear of questions from the press.

 

THE AUDIT TEAM THAT CANNOT AUDIT ITSELF

The pattern repeats in the Safety and Compliance Audit Team President Ali announced on July 31 — Dr Ivor English, Volton Skeete, and Captain Joseph Lewis, tasked with reviewing the very maritime safety standards that failed on July 18. The 592 Guardian’s review of Dr English’s own published record found that he has remained a paid consultant to MARAD and the Transport and Harbours Department, and a director of the Guyana National Shipping Corporation board, continuously since 2015 — the same regulatory apparatus now under review.

English has separately dismissed the Alfonso-Griffith conflict-of-interest concerns as immaterial in public remarks.

An audit team drawn from inside the institution it is auditing is not oversight. It is the appearance of oversight, offered as a substitute for the real thing — and it fits the same design as the Commission itself: control the inquiry, and the need to face independent questions disappears.

CONSENT, PRE-WRITTEN

Perhaps the clearest evidence of that design is the one document families were asked to sign before any of this began.

The 592 Guardian has obtained a “Declaration of Agreement — MV Barima as Memorial Site,” pre-drafted to record relatives consent to leaving the vessel on the seabed, circulated to families before the government’s own consultation process had concluded.

A genuine consultation asks a question. This document supplied the answer in advance and asked only for a signature.

That sequencing matters because of what independent maritime law analysis has since found. A legal paper by maritime scholar Robert C. Millington, reported by Kaieteur News, identifies a regulatory blind spot in Guyana’s Shipping Act — the “24-Metre Gap” — under which a vessel the Barima’s size fell outside the stability and safety rules that would apply to a far smaller boat.

The same Act names MARAD’s own Director as the legal owner of state vessels, collapsing regulator and owner into a single office. A vessel raised from the seabed is a vessel that can be inspected against those findings. A memorial cannot be.

WHAT A LIVESTREAM CANNOT DO

Each of these threads — the Commission, the Audit Team, the memorial declaration — describes a different mechanism, but they share a single function. Each one moves the question of accountability away from a forum where the President himself could be asked, directly and without a script, why his ministers gave the public a series of accounts of this tragedy that had to be revised several times over several  days later; why the officials most exposed to scrutiny were removed from the sequence of events before the Commission had taken a single day of evidence; and why an inquiry meant to represent the nation was assembled entirely by his own hand.

Silence breeds suspicion. Avoiding the press only deepens public distrust at a moment when confidence in the State’s handling of this catastrophe is already dangerously fragile. Guyana has watched other nations answer disasters of this kind by putting their leaders in front of the press, not behind it — South Korea’s government faced sustained, adversarial questioning throughout the Sewol inquiry that ran for years; Senegal’s president answered directly to the press after the MS Joola sinking.

Guyana’s President has instead chosen recorded statements, delivered on his own terms, to an audience that cannot ask him anything at all.

If the government believes in the independence and credibility of its own inquiry, it should have no fear of questions from the press.

The 592 Guardian renews, again, its call for the Office of the President to publish full vetting records for every Commission and Audit Team appointee, and for the President to hold a press conference — not a livestream — at which Guyana’s journalists, not his own office, choose the questions.

— The Board