Drones Above, Darkness Below

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Drones Above, 

Darkness Below

 

  A government that can choreograph spectacle should be able to deliver services. Guyana’s real crisis is not a shortage of celebration, but a shortage of competence.

Guyana is being invited to celebrate lights in the sky while too many of its citizens continue to struggle with the absence of reliable lights on the ground. That is the paradox of this moment: a government eager to stage spectacle, yet far less convincing when it comes to delivering the basic services that make daily life bearable.

There is nothing wrong with a national celebration. A country should mark its milestones with pride. But celebration becomes offensive when it is used to distract from dysfunction, when choreographed beauty is deployed to mask administrative failure, and when the people are expected to applaud while they are still trapped in the consequences of neglect.

The drone display may have dazzled the eye, but it did not dry a flooded street, unclog a drain, or ease the hardship of families whose yards and communities remain waterlogged after every serious rainfall. It did not restore confidence in drainage maintenance or repair the long-standing neglect that has turned flooding into a recurring feature of life for too many Guyanese.

And then there is GPL — or rather, the lack of dependable light from GPL. Here lies the cruel irony. The state can summon drones to paint patterns in the night sky, but it cannot consistently ensure that homes, businesses, and neighborhoods are properly served by the public utility people depend on every day. One is engineered for applause. The other is supposed to be basic governance. 

Yet in Guyana, the spectacle shines more brightly than the service.

That is why the contrast matters. It reveals a government more comfortable with symbolism than with substance, more interested in presentation than performance. Drone lights are temporary, theatrical, and forgettable. Reliable electricity, functional drainage, and passable roads are not luxuries. They are the foundation of a civilized society. When those fail, no amount of pageantry can persuade people that they are living under competent leadership.

A serious administration would understand that the true measure of progress is not how well it can stage a celebration, but how consistently it can improve the lives of ordinary citizens. It would know that the real test of power is not the ability to put on a show, but the discipline to maintain drains, clear canals, repair roads, strengthen utilities, and protect communities from preventable hardship.

Instead, Guyanese are too often told to look up while they are forced to look down. Up at the drones. Down at the floodwater. Up at the spectacle. Down at the stagnation. Up at the promise of a modern nation. Down at the reality of services that remain unreliable and communities that remain neglected.

This is not a matter of optics alone. It is a matter of priorities. 

A government that can choreograph lights in the sky should be able to guarantee lights in the homes of its people. A state that can fund spectacle should be able to fund service. A leadership that celebrates national progress must first prove that it can deliver the basics without turning every rainy season into a crisis.

Until that happens, the paradox will remain impossible to ignore. The drones will glow overhead. GPL will continue to symbolize the frustration below. And ordinary Guyanese will be left to wonder why their country can illuminate the night for a celebration but not consistently light the lives of the people who make that nation real.

Guyana does not need more theatrical light shows; it needs dependable light, dependable drainage, and dependable leadership.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

Citi’s Arrival Is Not Banking Expansion — It Is Strategic Extraction

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Citi’s Arrival Is Not Banking Expansion —

It Is Strategic Extraction

The announcement that global financial giant Citi has received approval to establish a representative office in Guyana is being widely celebrated as a signal of international confidence and a strengthening of the local banking sector. That interpretation is not only misleading—it obscures the true nature of what is unfolding.

This is not banking expansion in any meaningful domestic sense. It is strategic positioning.

A representative office is not a commercial bank. It does not take deposits, issue local loans, or provide retail or broad-based corporate banking services within the domestic economy. Its purpose is far narrower and far more targeted: to facilitate high-value transactions, manage relationships with multinational clients, and channel capital flows through global financial networks.

In plain terms, Citi is not coming to bank Guyana—it is coming to service the upper tier of international business already operating within it.

This distinction matters because it exposes the gap between perception and reality. While the public is being led to believe that this development will expand access to financing, particularly for local enterprises, the opposite is more likely. Citi’s model is structured around large-scale, export-oriented, and foreign-linked transactions. Small and medium-sized Guyanese businesses—the backbone of the domestic economy—will remain largely excluded from its services.

Even among larger local firms, access will likely depend on their integration into international trade or their alignment with sectors such as oil and gas, infrastructure, and export logistics. This is not inclusive banking; it is selective financial intermediation designed for high-value clients operating in foreign currency ecosystems.

And that brings us to the core issue: currency and capital flows.

Citi’s operations in Guyana will almost certainly be anchored in U.S. dollar transactions, not Guyana dollar intermediation. This is not incidental—it is fundamental to its business model. The office will function as a conduit for moving capital into and out of Guyana efficiently, ensuring that profits, payments, and financing arrangements remain within Citi’s global system.

In effect, this creates a parallel financial channel—one that operates alongside, but not within, the domestic economy.

The implications are significant. Rather than deepening local financial capacity, such arrangements risk reinforcing an enclave-style economic structure, where high-value activities are externally managed and internally disconnected. Wealth flows through the country, but not necessarily into its broader economic fabric.

This is why the narrative of “confidence” must be treated with caution. Citi is not expressing confidence in Guyana’s domestic financial ecosystem or its small business sector. It is expressing confidence in its ability to extract value from a rapidly expanding, resource-driven economy.

That is a fundamentally different proposition.

The only tangible national benefit from this presence will depend on policy choices—specifically, whether the government ensures that such entities are subject to fair taxation and regulatory oversight. If tax concessions or holidays are granted, as has been the case in other sectors, even that limited benefit could be undermined.

Absent strong policy intervention, Guyana risks repeating a familiar pattern: attracting global players who participate in its growth without meaningfully contributing to its development.

Citi’s move should therefore be understood not as a milestone in banking sector expansion, but as a signal of where value is being concentrated—and who is positioned to capture it.

The real question is not whether Guyana is attracting global institutions. It is whether it is structuring their presence in a way that serves national interests, rather than simply accommodating global capital.

Until that question is answered with clarity and intent, celebrations of “confidence” will remain premature at best—and misleading at worst.

 

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

Flag, Fiasco, Fallout

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Flag, Fiasco, Fallout:

The Desecration of Fort Zeelandia

 

Fort Zeelandia did not deteriorate overnight. Its current condition, following the ill-conceived Independence flag-raising event, is the direct result of decisions—decisions made by public officials entrusted with both national heritage and public funds.

What unfolded was not simply a poorly managed ceremony. It was a failure of governance.

Responsibility begins squarely with the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sport, the state body charged with oversight of national events and the preservation of cultural assets. Any event staged at a site of this magnitude requires meticulous planning, strict usage controls, and, critically, a post-event restoration protocol. The absence of these basic safeguards suggests either a breakdown in administrative competence or a disregard for the site’s historical value.

Equally implicated is the National Trust of Guyana, the statutory agency specifically mandated to protect and manage heritage sites such as Fort Zeelandia. If the Trust approved the use of the site without enforceable preservation conditions, then it failed in its legal and moral duty. If it was bypassed or sidelined, then that raises even more serious questions about governance and institutional integrity.

And above these agencies sits the Cabinet itself, which cannot credibly claim ignorance. National Independence events are not minor undertakings; they are centrally coordinated, politically visible, and funded from the public purse. That means ultimate accountability rests at the highest levels of government, including the Office of the President, which has repeatedly positioned itself as a champion of Guyana’s global environmental and sustainability credentials.

This is where the contradiction becomes impossible to ignore.

Guyana has aggressively marketed its Low Carbon Development Strategy and carbon credit framework to the international community, positioning itself as a model of environmental stewardship. Billions in climate financing are premised on the idea that this nation understands the value of preservation—that it treats its natural and cultural assets with care, discipline, and respect.

Yet at Fort Zeelandia, we see the opposite: a heritage site treated as a disposable backdrop, left visibly degraded in the wake of a single evening’s spectacle.

Environmental stewardship is not divisible. A government cannot credibly claim to safeguard millions of hectares of forest while failing to protect a single, well-defined national monument. The principles are the same—planning, respect, accountability, and restoration.

What compounds the issue is the question of public funds. How much was spent on this event? Which contractors were engaged? Were there environmental or heritage impact guidelines embedded in those contracts? And crucially, has any allocation been made for the restoration of the site?

Silence on these questions only deepens public suspicion.

This is not merely about optics. It is about governance culture. When state institutions act without consequence—when heritage protections are ignored, when public spending yields damage rather than value, when no official steps forward to accept responsibility—the result is erosion not just of physical sites, but of public trust.

Fort Zeelandia is not an ordinary space. It is a repository of national memory. It carries the weight of Guyana’s colonial history, its struggles, and its evolution into an independent state. To allow it to be mishandled in this way is to diminish that history itself.

The government now faces a simple test.

Will the Ministry of Culture publicly account for its planning failures? Will the National Trust assert its authority and outline corrective measures? Will there be a transparent assessment of damage and a funded restoration plan? And most importantly, will anyone in a position of authority accept responsibility?

Or will this, like too many other episodes, be quietly absorbed into the machinery of impunity?

Guyana cannot afford that outcome—not if it wishes to be taken seriously, either by its own citizens or by the international partners to whom it sells a vision of sustainability and stewardship.

Because stewardship is not declared. It is demonstrated.

And at Fort Zeelandia, the demonstration has been a failure.

 

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

 

 

World- class
World-class
Abuse of public funds
Abuse of Public Funds
Rental paid by you
Clean up paid by you
Who cleans this ?
Big Soiree?
Rental
Rental still being paid
58% Poverty
58% Poverty?
Desecration of Flag
No respect
Who is paying for this?
A HERITAGE SITE ?

 

 

Silence vs Scrutiny: What Guyana Must Learn from the Philippines Case

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Silence vs Scrutiny: What Guyana Must Learn from the Philippines Case

By: Staff Writer

The recent release of 64 Chinese nationals in the Philippines—detained amid allegations of nuclear safety violations and breaches of immigration and labor laws—should command serious attention in Guyana. Not because the circumstances are identical, but because the institutional response offers a revealing contrast.

In the Philippine case, authorities acted swiftly to detain foreign workers linked to potentially hazardous industrial operations. The allegations were grave, touching on issues of public safety and regulatory compliance. Yet just as swiftly, the judicial process intervened. The Department of Justice reviewed the evidence and concluded that it was insufficient to sustain the charges. The detainees were released. Six more are expected to follow.

This sequence—allegation, enforcement, review, and legal resolution—reflects a functioning, if imperfect, system. It underscores a basic principle: the state must not only act when serious concerns arise but must also subject its actions to scrutiny and evidentiary standards.

Now consider Guyana’s unfolding Ekaa HRIM controversy.

Here, the issue is not a lack of allegations—it is an abundance of them. Reports continue to surface from workers describing troubling conditions: unsafe handling of materials, questionable labor practices, and what appear to be systemic breaches of occupational and environmental safeguards. These accounts are not isolated. They are accumulating, forming a pattern that demands urgent and credible investigation.

Yet, conspicuously, the state has not matched the gravity of these claims with commensurate action.

There has been no visible, comprehensive probe. No clear indication of independent oversight. No sustained public communication outlining what is being investigated, by whom, and under what legal framework. Instead, there is a vacuum—one filled increasingly by worker testimonies, speculation, and public unease.

This silence is not merely a communications failure. It is a governance failure.

At stake is more than the credibility of a single enterprise. The Ekaa HRIM matter touches on core questions about how Guyana manages foreign investment, enforces labor protections, and safeguards both workers and communities from industrial risk. It raises the uncomfortable possibility that regulatory mechanisms may be either under-resourced, compromised, or selectively applied.

That possibility alone should trigger alarm at the highest levels of government.

Guyana is in the midst of a transformative economic period, driven in large part by foreign capital and large-scale industrial activity. This transformation carries undeniable opportunities—but also significant risks. 

 

Chief among them is the emergence of regulatory blind spots, where the pace of investment outstrips the capacity or willingness of institutions to enforce the law.

If left unaddressed, such gaps do not remain isolated. They metastasize. They create precedents—quiet understandings that certain actors may operate with a degree of impunity, particularly where economic or diplomatic considerations are perceived to be at play.

The Philippine example demonstrates that even where allegations prove unfounded, the act of investigation itself is essential. It reassures the public, tests the integrity of claims, and reinforces the principle that no entity operates above scrutiny.

Guyana, by contrast, risks sending the opposite message.

 

The continued emergence of “horror stories,” as described by affected workers, suggests not only potential violations but also a growing crisis of confidence. Workers are speaking out because they perceive that formal channels may not be functioning as they should. That, in itself, is a red flag.

The government cannot afford to treat this as a peripheral issue. Nor can it rely on silence as a strategy.

What is required is immediate, visible, and credible action: a full-scale investigation led by competent and independent authorities; transparent reporting of findings; and, where violations are confirmed, decisive enforcement. This must include scrutiny of labor practices, immigration compliance, environmental standards, and any handling of hazardous materials.

Anything less will deepen public suspicion and erode institutional legitimacy.

There is also a broader reputational dimension. Guyana’s international standing—as an emerging economy seeking investment and partnerships—depends not only on its resource wealth but on the strength of its governance. Investors and partners alike take note of how states respond to controversy, particularly where it intersects with labor rights and safety standards.

A failure to act decisively in the Ekaa HRIM matter risks signaling that oversight is negotiable and that enforcement may yield to expediency.

That is a dangerous signal to send.

 

Ultimately, this is a test—not just of a single company or a discrete set of allegations, but of the state itself. It is a test of whether Guyana’s institutions are prepared to uphold the rule of law consistently, even when doing so may be inconvenient or politically sensitive.

The Philippines, in this instance, demonstrated that action and accountability can coexist. Guyana must now demonstrate that it is capable of the same.

Silence is no longer tenable. The integrity of governance demands a response.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

Guyana’s Diaspora Bond: A Financial Rendezvous Without the Scaffolding of Governance

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Guyana’s Diaspora Bond:

A Financial Rendezvous Without the Scaffolding of Governance

By: Staff– Writer

President Mohamed Irfaan Ali recently announced that Guyana will launch a special diaspora bond within a week, aimed at raising funds from Guyanese living overseas to finance public infrastructure projects. The bond was unveiled during a joint appearance with Barbados Prime Minister Mia Mottley at Guyana’s National Stadium, part of the country’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations, alongside broader plans for passport-free travel, digital ID integration, and a regional investment fund.

This is a major step in the wrong direction—not because diaspora capital is unwelcome, but because the government is embarking on a sovereign-backed financial instrument without first answering the most basic questions of authority, accountability, and investor protection.

The Authority Deficit

On what legal and constitutional authority is the government, and President Ali personally, launching this bond? Guyana’s Constitution vests law-making power in Parliament, and public debt management best practices, including those from the World Bank and IMF, require that borrowing, guarantees, and contingent liabilities be either approved by Parliament or reported to it in a timely, detailed manner.

Yet there is no indication that this bond has been authorized by specific legislation, debated in Parliament, or subjected to public scrutiny. The government is effectively taking on the responsibility of financial underwriting without consultation. This is not policy innovation; it is fiscal improvisation.

The Credit Problem

A diaspora bond is only as credible as the borrower behind it. Investor confidence depends on the sovereign’s creditworthiness, the legal framework governing repayment, and the enforceability of commitments.

Guyana still does not have a widely recognized sovereign credit rating. In 2020, analysts argued that the time was opportune for Guyana to obtain one; nearly six years later, that exercise remains incomplete. Without a publicly disclosed credit rating, without transparent debt sustainability analysis, and without disclosed terms, the government is asking diaspora investors to bet on trust rather than on verifiable financial strength.

The Legal Vacuum

What legislation will be put in place to guarantee investors? What security backs the bond? What recourse do investors have if the state cannot or will not pay?

Diaspora bonds are more effective when they sit inside a clear legal architecture, sometimes with institutional safeguards or credit support. When they are not, they rely heavily on sentiment rather than enforceable protection. The announcement has provided none of these details.

This is not abstract. Guyana has seen financial promises collapse before. When CLICO Insurance failed, many investors were left unpaid for years, with little recourse and no clear resolution. That trauma is still fresh in the public memory. A government-backed diaspora bond that lacks statutory backing risks repeating the same pattern: high hopes, weak legal protection, and a long tail of unresolved claims.

The Political Risk: What Happens If the Government Changes?

The most dangerous gap in this design is political. What happens if the administration changes and the next government decide it does not want to honor the debenture?

Sovereign debt is not personal. It is institutional. But when an instrument is launched quickly, without legislation, without budgetary anchoring, and without parliamentary oversight, it becomes vulnerable to political reinterpretation. The next administration could delay payments, renegotiate terms, or simply disown the initiative, leaving investors exposed and the state’s credibility damaged.

Patriotism cannot substitute for a binding legal commitment. If the government truly wants diaspora investment to be safe and credible, it must anchor the bond in law, not in press statements.

The Regional Pattern: Integration Promises That Outpace Governance

The diaspora bond is just one part of a broader Guyana–Barbados integration agenda: passport-free travel starting July 1 based on a digital ID system, plans for digitally connected financial systems, and a new regional investment fund called Trident Arrow.

President Ali has said the system will eventually support integrated healthcare services between the two countries. These are ambitious goals. But ambition without legal architecture is a recipe for policy overload. The Caribbean has seen this reel before: grand announcements, rapid political momentum, and then a slow, messy realization that the institutions, laws, and oversight mechanisms were never built.

Guyana now risks turning its diaspora into testing subjects for unstructured financial engineering.

Why This Matters for Guyana’s Future

Diaspora capital can absolutely support development. But it must be mobilized responsibly. That means:

  • Parliamentary approval for any sovereign-backed borrowing or guarantee
  • A clear legal framework that defines the bond’s terms, security, and enforcement mechanisms
  • Transparency on credit risk, including disclosure of debt sustainability and sovereign rating status
  • Protection against political turnover, ensuring that obligations survive changes in government

 

Without these safeguards, the diaspora bond becomes less a development tool and more a political gamble

The Bottom Line

Guyana is at a pivotal moment. Oil and gas revenues have transformed the economy, but they have also exposed the country to new risks: fiscal overreach, weak governance structures, and policy decisions that outpace institutional capacity.

This diaspora bond is a test. If the government proceeds without parliamentary sanction, without a legal framework, and without investor protections, it will signal that political momentum matters more than fiscal prudence.

If Guyana truly wants to honor its diaspora, it must treat their investment not as a patriotic donation, but as a serious financial contract—one that is backed by law, overseen by Parliament, and protected from the whims of political change.

Otherwise, what is being sold as regional innovation may become another Caribbean lesson in how easily political ambition outruns governance.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

 

Ambition and Infrastructure: A Necessary Alignment

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THE 592 GUARDIAN OPINION

Recent developments in Kenya offer a timely and instructive lesson for emerging economies seeking to position themselves within the global digital and artificial intelligence landscape. The suspension of a proposed US$1 billion Microsoft-backed data center—on the grounds that it would place unsustainable pressure on the national electricity grid—underscores a fundamental principle of modern development: ambition must be matched by infrastructure.

Kenya, with an installed electricity capacity of approximately 3,000 megawatts and a comparatively advanced renewable energy portfolio, was compelled to acknowledge that a single hyperscale data facility could consume a substantial share of its national supply. The implications were clear. Without adequate surplus capacity and grid resilience, even the most prestigious investments become untenable.

This reality bears direct relevance to Guyana.

In recent public pronouncements, President Irfaan Ali has advanced the vision of establishing a “Silicon Valley” in Guyana—a concept that, while aspirational, appears disconnected from the country’s present infrastructural conditions. Guyana remains in the process of bringing its 300 MW Gas-to-Energy (GtE) project to operational status, a development that is itself critical to stabilizing domestic supply and reducing energy costs. Yet this project, foundational as it is, does not represent surplus capacity; it represents a long-overdue baseline.

Hyperscale data centers—the backbone of any genuine technology hub—are among the most resource-intensive facilities in existence. Their demands extend well beyond electricity. A single large-scale facility can require between 100 MW and 300 MW of continuous power, alongside extensive cooling systems that depend on significant volumes of water. These are not marginal increases in demand; they are industrial-scale requirements that must be sustained without interruption.

Guyana’s current realities raise serious questions about readiness on both fronts.

Electricity supply, while improving, remains constrained and in transition. The completion and integration of the GtE project are prerequisites for stability, not indicators of excess. Equally pressing is the issue of water. Across Georgetown and other regions, citizens and businesses continue to face persistent challenges with water pressure, reliability, and distribution. The notion of diverting large volumes of treated water to support energy-intensive data infrastructure—while sections of the population experience daily shortages—demands careful scrutiny.

Modern data centers often rely on water-based cooling systems that can consume millions of gallons annually, depending on scale and technology. In jurisdictions where such facilities are successfully deployed, water management systems are robust, redundant, and carefully regulated to prevent competition between industrial and domestic needs. 

Guyana has yet to demonstrate that such systems are in place or even in advanced planning.

The broader issue, therefore, is not whether Guyana should aspire to participate in the global digital economy. It should. The issue is sequencing.

Sustainable technological development is built on a hierarchy of prerequisites: reliable and expandable energy generation, resilient transmission networks, secure and sufficient water supply, regulatory clarity, and a skilled workforce. These elements are not optional; they are foundational. Without them, high-level visions risk becoming detached from operational reality.

Kenya’s recent decision illustrates the importance of confronting these constraints early and transparently. It is a reminder that credibility in development policy is earned not through declarations, but through demonstrated capacity and disciplined execution.

Guyana stands at a pivotal moment in its economic trajectory, buoyed by significant resource revenues and international attention. This moment demands not only vision, but precision. Grand announcements must be anchored in verifiable infrastructure plans, with clear timelines, financing strategies, and independent oversight.

A technology-driven future for Guyana is achievable. However, it will not be realized through rhetoric alone. It will require sustained investment in energy and water systems, careful prioritization, and a commitment to aligning national aspirations with material capabilities.

Until such alignment is achieved, proposals of a “Silicon Valley” remain premature. What is required now is not the language of transformation, but the work that makes transformation possible.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

Two Ambassadors, One Prize:

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EDITORIAL

Guyana as Battleground in the US–China Great Power Contest

The 592 Guardian Editorial Board

May 2026

I.  THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE TIMING WHEN TWO EMPIRES SPOKE

Within days of each other in May 2026, two of the world’s most powerful nations addressed Guyana directly — not through back channels or diplomatic cables, but through the public press, in signed op-eds crafted with evident care and deliberate purpose.

US Ambassador Nicole Theriot marked sixty years of bilateral relations with a warm tribute to partnership, shared history, and the promise of “deeper democracy.” Nine days prior, Chinese Ambassador Yang Yang published a sweeping defense of Beijing’s relationship with Georgetown, titled “Facts Speak Louder Than Words: The Real Story of China–Guyana Cooperation” — using detailed data and pointed language to firmly refute what she called “groundless accusations” by a US congressman about so-called “Chinese influence” in Guyana.

Two ambassadors. Two op-eds. One small nation sitting atop one of the most significant oil discoveries of the twenty-first century.

Coincidence is not a concept that applies to great power diplomacy. What Guyana witnessed in May 2026 was not two friends sending greetings. It was two empires — each with a hundred-year strategic horizon — publicly competing for the allegiance of a nation that has suddenly become indispensable.

Georgetown must read both documents not as tributes, but as bids. And it must read them with eyes wide open.

II.  THE AMERICAN BID: WARMTH WITH CONDITIONS

Ambassador Theriot’s op-ed is eloquent, warm, and genuinely appreciative of a partnership that has delivered real benefits to the Guyanese people. But diplomacy, like oil contracts, requires reading the fine print.

Just weeks before her anniversary tribute, Ambassador Theriot sat before a Guyanese television audience and delivered what can only be described as a threat dressed in diplomatic clothing. As the representative of the US Government, she declared it “incredibly dangerous” to start talking about renegotiation of the 2016 Stabroek Block Production Sharing Agreement with ExxonMobil — warning that doing so “sends a terrible signal to international investors all over the world.”

The numbers make the stakes plain. In 2024 alone, ExxonMobil, Hess, and CNOOC collectively earned US$8.4 billion in profits from Guyana’s Stabroek Block, while Guyana — despite owning the resource — received just US$2.6 billion. Under the 2016 PSA, 75 percent of oil produced is set aside for the international oil companies to recoup their investments, with only the remaining 25 percent split equally between Guyana and the consortium, alongside a mere 2 percent royalty.

The 2016 agreement prohibits the Government from imposing any windfall tax — and requires Guyana to pay Exxon’s corporate income tax liabilities out of its own share of profit oil.

What makes this position especially extraordinary is its sharp departure from prior US diplomatic posture. In April 2019, then-Ambassador Sarah Ann Lynch stated clearly that “it is within Guyana’s right to renegotiate the controversial Production Sharing Agreement” and that the US “certainly wouldn’t interfere with that.” Ambassador Theriot in April 2026 calls even thinking about renegotiation “incredibly dangerous” and “a very bad idea.” Same flag. Dramatically different instructions.

What changed? The scale of the discovery. With Guyana now producing nearly 900,000 barrels per day and the block proven to hold over 11 billion barrels, the stakes for ExxonMobil — and by extension for Washington — are existential. So serious is the US position that when Undersecretary for Economic Affairs Jacob Helsberg visited recently, though he chose softer language than the Ambassador, his meaning was identical: Washington will not countenance any maneuver that upsets the current arrangement.

III.  THE DOUBLE GAME IN PLAIN SIGHT

Ambassador Theriot assures Guyana that Washington stands “firmly” behind its territorial integrity, invoking Secretary Rubio’s 2025 visit to Georgetown as evidence of commitment. And yet, simultaneously, the United States has been engaged in one of the most consequential geopolitical pivots in the Western Hemisphere — a systematic re-engagement with Venezuela, the very nation whose territorial aggression against Guyana the Ambassador so eloquently condemns.

Following the capture of Nicolás Maduro by US forces in January 2026, a 50-million-barrel oil supply deal was announced with the remaining Venezuelan government, new hydrocarbons privatization laws were passed, and the US lifted sanctions on Venezuelan oil trade. By February 2026, OFAC had issued the broadest easing of Venezuela-related sanctions in years. Chevron mentioned Venezuela twelve times in its 2025 lobbying filings. White House meetings with oil executives about Venezuelan reconstruction investment followed days later.

Let the significance of this sink in. Washington’s security guarantee to Guyana and Washington’s commercial re-engagement with Venezuela are not contradictory policies in the minds of American strategists. They are complementary ones. The United States wants stable oil flows from both nations, leverage over both capitals, and the indispensable role of arbiter between them.

This is not cynicism. It is the most rational foreign policy imaginable — from Washington’s perspective. It is only naïve from Georgetown’s.

Washington’s ideal outcome is a Western Hemisphere in which it controls access to two of the region’s most significant oil jurisdictions — Guyana through commercial dominance and security partnership, Venezuela through post-Maduro reconstruction and investment. In that scenario, the United States is not Guyana’s partner. It is Guyana’s landlord

1v.THE CHINESE BID: INFRASTRUCTURE WITH STRINGS UNACKNOWLEDGED

Ambassador Yang Yang’s op-ed is a masterpiece of soft power framing. The facts she presents are largely accurate, and genuinely impressive. By the end of 2025, cumulative Chinese investment in Guyana had reached approximately US$13 billion, while bilateral trade totaled US$2.89 billion — more than double the previous year. Chinese companies built the Bharrat Jagdeo Demerara River Bridge, six regional hospitals now fully operational, and the China–Guyana Joe Vieira Friendship Park. Since 1993, over 300 Chinese medical professionals have treated more than 1.3 million Guyanese patients.

These are not phantom achievements. They are tangible contributions to Guyanese life, and they deserve honest acknowledgment just as the US contributions do.

But Ambassador Yang’s eloquence carefully omits what her government’s global track record makes impossible to ignore. In 2025 alone, developing countries owed China US$35 billion in BRI-related repayments — a record — with US$22 billion of that burden falling on the world’s 75 poorest nations. China’s outstanding overseas BRI debt has surpassed US$1 trillion, with infrastructure projects across multiple regions struggling to meet even interest payments.

Sri Lanka’s Hambantota Port was also built under principles of “mutual benefit and win-win cooperation.” It was leased to China for 99 years after debt default.

Guyana is not Sri Lanka. Its oil revenues provide a cushion that most BRI recipients do not have. But a nation flush with new wealth is also a nation newly attractive to predatory partnership structures — and US$13 billion in cumulative Chinese investment, against a Guyanese GDP that was barely US$14 billion as recently as 2022, represents a level of economic penetration that warrants serious scrutiny.

Ambassador Yang’s article was triggered not by goodwill alone, but by a specific challenge: US Congressman Gabe Evans had publicly raised concerns about Chinese influence in Guyana. The fact that a sitting US congressman felt compelled to write about Chinese influence, and that the Chinese Ambassador responded within days through the Guyanese press, tells you everything about what Georgetown has become: a theatre of great power competition being conducted, politely but intensely, on Guyanese soil.

V.  CNOOC: THE SILENT PLAYER IN THE ROOM

There is a dimension of the China–Guyana relationship that Ambassador Yang’s lyrical op-ed does not address, and which Ambassador Theriot’s partnership language deliberately obscures: CNOOC — China National Offshore Oil Corporation — is a direct partner in the very Stabroek Block that Washington is so anxious to protect.

CNOOC holds a 25 percent stake in the Stabroek consortium alongside ExxonMobil and Chevron. This means that every barrel produced from Guyana’s most valuable oil asset flows simultaneously to American and Chinese state interests. The two powers publicly competing for Guyana’s geopolitical allegiance are already, quietly, business partners in Georgetown’s oil field.

The battle for Guyana’s allegiance is not merely political. It is a battle over who controls — and who profits from — the extraction of a finite and extraordinary natural resource.

VI. THE PROPOGANDA PARALLEL : READING BOTH OP-EDS TOGETHER

Placed side by side, the Theriot and Yang op-eds reveal a structural similarity that is both instructive and troubling for Guyanese readers.

Both ambassadors lead with history and friendship. Both marshal specific projects and achievements as evidence of benevolent partnership. Both invoke shared values — democracy and sovereignty in Theriot’s case, mutual respect and the Global South in Yang’s. Both are responding, at least in part, to the other power’s moves. And crucially, both are silent about the ways their respective nations’ interests diverge from Guyana’s own.

Theriot does not mention the lopsidedness of the Stabroek contract. Yang does not mention BRI debt diplomacy. Theriot celebrates Exxon’s community investment signs in Mabaruma without noting that Exxon earned US$4.7 billion from Guyana in 2024 alone. Yang celebrates the Demerara River Bridge without disclosing the full terms of the financing that built it.

Both documents are truthful in what they include. Both are strategic in what they omit. That is the definition of propaganda — not fabrication, but selective presentation in service of national interest.

VII.  THE GEOPOLITICAL TRAP: CHOOSING SIDES IN SOMEONE ELSE’S WAR

The deepest danger facing Guyana in this moment is not Venezuela’s territorial aggression, though that is real. It is not the lopsided oil contract, though that requires correction. It is the gravitational pull toward choosing sides in a US–China rivalry that Guyana did not start, does not control, and could be badly damaged by.

Washington wants Guyana firmly in the Western camp — a reliable partner against Chinese influence in the Caribbean and a secure platform for American energy interests. Beijing wants Guyana as a Belt and Road success story, a CNOOC-holding ally, and a demonstration that the Global South can build prosperity outside the US-dominated financial architecture.

Both wants are legitimate from their respective perspectives. Neither is primarily about Guyana’s wellbeing.

The nations that have fared best in this rivalry are those that have refused to be captured by either pole — that have taken infrastructure from China while maintaining security ties with the West, extracted investment from both without surrendering sovereign decision-making to either. Vietnam. Indonesia. Brazil, under its more strategically coherent moments. These are the models Georgetown should study.

Lord Palmerston settled the matter in 1848: nations have no permanent friends, only permanent interests. Both Washington and Beijing operate on that doctrine. So must Georgetown.

VIII.  WHAT SOVEREIGN GUYANA LOOKS LIKE

Genuine sovereignty in Guyana’s current position looks like this:

It takes the US security guarantee seriously while refusing to become a wholly owned subsidiary of American foreign policy. It welcomes Chinese infrastructure investment while insisting on transparent loan terms, competitive bidding, and contractual protections against asset seizure. It renegotiates the Stabroek Block agreement toward terms that reflect the now-known scale of the discovery — not because it is anti-American, but because it is pro-Guyanese. It builds military and intelligence relationships with Brazil, the United Kingdom, India, and CARICOM alongside its American MOU. And it uses its Natural Resource Fund as a genuine sovereign wealth instrument, not a political tool.

It reads every op-ed published by a foreign ambassador — however eloquently written, however warmly intended — as what it is: a bid, not a gift.

One American ambassador said Guyana had every right to renegotiate its oil contract. Another called it “incredibly dangerous” even to raise the subject. One Chinese ambassador builds hospitals and bridges while her government’s BRI architecture has placed dozens of developing nations in unsustainable debt. The world’s most powerful nations have revealed, through these contradictions, that their relationship with Guyana is fundamentally transactional.

There is no shame in that. Transactional relationships can be enormously beneficial — if both parties understand the transaction clearly. Guyana must understand the transaction clearly.

IX.  A MESSAGE TO BOTH AMBASSADORS

To Ambassador Theriot: We value the sixty-year relationship. We honor the highway, the vaccines, the security partnership, and the genuine commitment to our sovereignty against Venezuelan aggression. We ask only that you extend to us the same honest respect you would give a true sovereign partner — including the acknowledgment that Guyana has every right, as your predecessor confirmed, to seek fair terms for its own natural resources.

To Ambassador Yang: We are grateful for the hospitals, the bridge, the medical brigades, and the trade relationship that has grown impressively. We ask only that you accompany those gifts with full transparency about loan terms, contract conditions, and the documented experience of other nations that walked the Belt and Road before us.

To both: Guyana is not a prize. It is not a theatre. It is not a demonstration project for your competing visions of world order.

It is a sovereign nation, newly wealthy, historically overlooked, and finally in a position to demand that the world treat it accordingly.

We intend to collect on that demand — from Washington and Beijing alike.

The 592 Guardian — Editorial Board

Georgetown, Guyana  |  May 2026

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

# A Man Who Has Forgotten: Ali, the Nimitz, and the Betrayal of Memory

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Opinion | The 592 Guardian

There is a particular kind of political sin that does not announce itself with scandal or corruption. It arrives quietly, dressed in the language of progress and partnership, wearing a smile cultivated for cameras and handshakes. It is the sin of ingratitude — and President Irfaan Ali committed it in full view of the world when he stood aboard the USS Nimitz and beamed.

Let us be precise about what that image represents. The Nimitz is not a diplomatic vessel. It is not a hospital ship or a vessel of goodwill. It is among the most lethal instruments of power ever constructed by human hands — a floating airfield capable of projecting destruction to any corner of the earth. It is the embodiment of the very military-economic architecture that has strangled Cuba for over six decades, enforcing a blockade that has denied ordinary Cuban people medicine, food, and the basic dignities of modern life. To stand aboard it — not quietly, not reluctantly, but with visible pride and enthusiasm — is to make a statement. Whether Ali intended it or not, the statement was made.

And that statement lands like a slap across the face of every Guyanese who was kept alive, educated, or healed by the hands of a Cuban.

 What Cuba Did When No One Else Would

This is not nostalgia. This is not romanticism. This is recorded history.

When Guyana’s hospital wards were understaffed and its patients were dying for want of qualified physicians, it was not Washington that answered the call. It was Havana. Cuban doctors arrived in communities that had never seen a specialist, in regions where the nearest clinic was a day’s journey away. They did not come on short-term contracts with generous compensation packages. They came under the banner of solidarity — a word that has grown unfashionable in an era of transactional diplomacy, but which once meant something real.

When classrooms across this country sat empty for want of teachers, Cuban educators filled them. When Guyanese students had neither the finances nor the connections to access quality higher education, Cuban scholarships opened doors that would otherwise have remained permanently shut. The professionals produced by those opportunities — the doctors, engineers, teachers, and public servants who have contributed to this country’s development — are a living monument to what that partnership meant.

That relationship was built not on oil or military strategy or leverage. It was built on the simple, radical idea that a small nation should help another small nation because it is right to do so. Cuba asked for nothing that Guyana could not give. And for decades, Guyana benefited enormously from that generosity.

Now, the man who leads this country stands on the deck of the vessel most associated with the power that has tormented Cuba, and he poses for photographs.

 The Captured Head of State

There is a phrase in the language of postcolonial political analysis: state capture. It typically refers to the corruption of institutions by private interests. But there is another form of capture — subtler, more insidious — in which a leader becomes so thoroughly absorbed into the worldview, the ambitions, and the validation framework of a more powerful foreign patron that he loses the ability to see himself, his country, and its history through his own eyes.

Irfaan Ali has the look of a man so captured.

Watch how he performs on the international stage. Watch the eagerness to be seen in proximity to American military and economic power. Watch the carefully calibrated language that never discomforts Washington, never challenges the prevailing orthodoxies of the hemisphere’s dominant power. Watch how his government’s rhetoric has quietly drifted from the Non-Aligned tradition that once defined Caribbean and Caricom foreign policy, toward something that increasingly resembles client-state diplomacy dressed up as strategic partnership.

A leader grounded in his own history does not need to perform allegiance to the powerful. A leader who remembers where he came from does not need to be told that gratitude is a political value, not merely a personal virtue. A leader with a genuine foreign policy vision would know that the strength of small nations lies precisely in their ability to maintain relationships across ideological lines — to be friends with everyone without being owned by anyone.

But Ali does not appear to know this. Or if he knows it, he does not appear to care.

 Pragmatism Is Not the Alibi It Pretends to Be

The apologists will invoke pragmatism. They always do. They will say that Guyana must protect its oil wealth, that it faces real security threats, that aligning with the United States is a matter of national survival. They will speak of Venezuela, of regional instability, of the need for a powerful friend.

All of this contains a measure of truth. No serious analyst denies that Guyana’s security environment has changed dramatically with the discovery of oil, or that the country requires credible defence arrangements. The United States is a natural partner in that equation, and engagement with American military forces is not, by itself, a matter for condemnation.

But pragmatism is not a moral blank cheque. It does not erase obligation. It does not permit a government to court a new patron with such theatrical enthusiasm that it implicitly signals contempt for an old friend. It does not excuse the complete absence of any balancing gesture, any acknowledgment, any word of continued respect for the nation that staffed Guyana’s hospitals when Washington was indifferent to their condition.

If Ali’s government had paired its American engagement with even a quiet reaffirmation of Guyana’s relationship with Cuba — a statement, a visit, a diplomatic expression of continued solidarity — the Nimitz photograph would have read differently. It would have read as the act of a confident, balanced statesman navigating a complex world. Instead, it reads as the act of a man who has decided which side his bread is buttered on, and who no longer feels the need to pretend otherwise.

That is not pragmatism. That is opportunism. And in a region with a long memory of what opportunism costs small nations, it is a dangerous and shameful thing.

 Memory as a Political Obligation

There is a broader principle at stake here, one that extends beyond Guyana’s relationship with any single country

A nation that allows its foreign policy to be dictated entirely by present-tense power calculations — that discards old alliances the moment they become inconvenient, that forgets the names of those who stood with it in its hour of need — is a nation that cannot be trusted. It signals to every future partner: we will abandon you too, when the calculus changes. It hollows out the very concept of international solidarity, replacing it with pure transaction.

For Guyana — a small, developing nation navigating a world in which it is perpetually at risk of being overwhelmed by larger powers — this is not merely an ethical failure. It is a strategic one. The nations that earn respect in the international community are not those that grovel most effectively before the powerful. They are those that demonstrate consistency, principle, and the kind of moral seriousness that makes them reliable actors. Guyana once had a claim to that reputation. The Nimitz photograph puts it in question.

 The Image He Should Carry

President Ali would do well to remember a different image than the one now circulating from the Nimitz.

He should remember the image of a Cuban doctor in the Guyanese interior, treating patients who had no other option. He should remember the image of a Cuban teacher in a Guyanese classroom, shaping minds that would go on to build this country’s institutions. He should remember the image of a Guyanese student arriving in Havana on a scholarship, with nothing but promise and the generosity of a small island nation that asked nothing in return but solidarity.

Those images built Guyana. They deserve more than to be quietly retired the moment a more glamorous partnership becomes available.

A head of state who has forgotten this has not merely made a diplomatic misstep. He has revealed something about his character — about what he values, what he remembers, and what he is willing to discard when the lights are bright and the cameras are rolling.

In the end, how a leader treats those who helped him when he was weak tells you everything about who he is when he is strong.

On the deck of the USS Nimitz, Irfaan Ali told us exactly who he is

The 592 Guardian publishes independent commentary on Guyanese civic and political affairs.*

Oil Wealth Guyana’s and the Illusion of Independence (copy)

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Sixty years after Independence, Guyana is once again being forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: political sovereignty without economic control is little more than a symbolic achievement. The warning delivered by Attorney-at-Law and Chartered Accountant Christopher Ram at the PNCR/APNU Independence Symposium should not be dismissed as partisan rhetoric. It is, in fact, a sobering diagnosis of a structural failure that has persisted across generations.

In 1971, Forbes Burnham declared that Guyana’s independence remained incomplete because its economic lifeblood—its natural resources—was controlled by foreign interests. That declaration justified the nationalisation of bauxite and signaled a broader struggle for economic self-determination. Today, despite unprecedented oil wealth and global recognition as one of the fastest-growing economies, the same fundamental question remains unresolved: who truly benefits from Guyana’s resources?

The answer, increasingly, is not the Guyanese people.

The 2016 petroleum agreement stands at the center of this contradiction. A 2 % ROYALTY, extensive tax concessions, and weak fiscal safeguards have produced an arrangement widely regarded as one of the most lopsided in the global oil industry. While production has surged and revenues have increased, the structure of the agreement ensures that a disproportionate share of value continues to flow outward. Reports that operators have already recouped their investments while accumulating profits exceeding Guyana’s national budget should alarm even the most optimistic observers.

This is not merely a contractual issue; it is a sovereignty issue.

A nation cannot claim meaningful independence while its most valuable assets are governed by agreements that limit its ability to negotiate, regulate, or fully benefit from its own wealth. Nor can it celebrate economic growth when that growth fails to translate into broad-based security for its citizens. Persistent emigration, limited local participation in high-value roles, and continued foreign dominance in key sectors such as gold, bauxite, and energy generation all point to a deeper imbalance—one that economic growth figures alone cannot conceal.

Equally troubling is the governance framework that allowed this outcome. The absence of robust parliamentary scrutiny, the lack of transparency surrounding critical agreements, and the continued delay in establishing a truly independent petroleum commission have collectively weakened the country’s bargaining position. Without strong institutions, even the most resource-rich nations can find themselves negotiating from a position of vulnerability.

The call for renegotiation of the petroleum agreement, therefore, is not radical—it is rational.

Circumstances have fundamentally changed since 2016. Guyana is no longer an unproven frontier basin; it is a major oil-producing state with demonstrated reserves and global strategic importance. Renegotiation, conducted professionally and grounded in international best practice, is both justifiable and necessary to ensure that the terms reflect current realities rather than past uncertainties.

However, renegotiation alone is insufficient. A comprehensive reset is required. This 

Guyana stands at a decisive moment. The country can either continue along a path where extraordinary wealth coexists with structural dependency, or it can assert a new model of governance that prioritizes national interest, transparency, and long-term prosperity.

History will not measure Guyana by the volume of oil it extracts, but by the extent to which that wealth transforms the lives of its people.

The question is no longer whether Guyana is rich in resources. The question is whether it has the political will to become truly independent.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.

 

 

 

 

Another Warning, Another Performance — GuySuCo and the Politics of Pretence

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President Irfaan Ali’s latest threat to “shake up” the management of GuySuCo lands with a familiar thud—loud in declaration, hollow in consequence. Guyanese have heard this refrain before. Heads would roll. Targets must be met.

Accountability is coming. Yet, year after year, failure persists, targets are quietly revised, and the same cycle of underperformance continues under the protective umbrella of political convenience.
Let us be clear: GuySuCo is not suffering from a sudden lapse in management discipline. It is drowning under a model that is politically engineered, structurally inefficient, and economically unsustainable. No amount of rhetorical posturing from the Executive can mask that reality.

The numbers tell a story the administration refuses to confront. In 2024, production collapsed to 6,739 metric tonnes against a 16,000-tonne target for the first crop. In 2025, even after targets were reduced, GuySuCo still failed—producing approximately 59,200 metric tonnes against a lowered 60,000 target, itself a retreat from an initial 80,000. This is not underperformance; this is systemic failure dressed up as progress.

And yet, billions more in taxpayers’ dollars continue to be poured into the corporation. The 2026 budget increases allocation yet again, with promises of “financial viability” and “long-term sustainability.” These phrases have now become ritualistic—recited annually, believed by few.
What exactly is being sustained? It is certainly not profitability. It is not efficiency. It is not competitiveness in a global sugar market that rewards innovation and punishes stagnation.
What is being sustained is a political apparatus.

GuySuCo has effectively become the country’s most expensive welfare program—one carefully maintained to preserve rural voting blocs while avoiding the political fallout of genuine reform. The administration speaks of employment numbers and community revival, but refuses to admit that these gains are being artificially propped up by state subsidies with no credible pathway to independence.

Even more troubling is the continued deflection of responsibility. When targets are missed, the blame is redirected—to management, to technical gaps, to external conditions. Never to policy. Never to the flawed governance model. Never to the political interference that industry insiders and critics alike have repeatedly identified as the root cause.

The President now signals “discussions” about ownership and “technical teams” waiting in the wings. But these are not new ideas—they are recycled talking points, deployed each time the pressure mounts. Without structural reform, without insulating the corporation from political control, without a transparent and commercially grounded strategy, these measures amount to little more than administrative reshuffling.

The truth is uncomfortable, but unavoidable: GuySuCo, as currently configured, is under water—and the tide is rising faster than the government is willing to admit.
Guyanese deserve honesty, not theatrics. If the industry is to be saved, it will require more than threats and press conference declarations. It will require political courage—the kind that prioritizes national interest over electoral arithmetic.

Until then, the cycle will continue: missed targets, renewed promises, and another round of warnings that lead nowhere.
The country is watching. And increasingly, it is no longer convinced.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘, 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨.