The OAS Report Is Not Noise—It Is an Indictment

BY: Hem Kumar 

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣

The latest findings from the Organisation of American States’ Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression are not casual observations to be brushed aside by the usual machinery of denial. They amount to a clear and sobering indictment of the state of press freedom in Guyana—one that exposes a pattern of hostility, obstruction, and calculated opacity emanating from the highest levels of public authority.

At the centre of this troubling assessment is the identification of an “adverse environment” for journalism, driven in part by hostile rhetoric from public officials, including President Irfaan Ali and the Department of Public Information. This is not merely about tone. It is about power. When those who wield state authority choose language and conduct that delegitimise the press, they do more than criticise—they signal to the wider society that scrutiny is unwelcome and dissent is suspect.

The exclusion of media houses from the President’s first post-inauguration press conference is emblematic of this deeper malaise. Six outlets reportedly left in the dark while others received direct invitations is not an administrative oversight—it is selective access. It raises a fundamental question: who decides which journalists are allowed to ask questions of the State? In any functioning democracy, the answer cannot be “those who are most favourable.”

The government’s reflexive dismissal of criticism as “malicious” and “misleading” only compounds the issue. This is a familiar tactic—discredit the messenger to avoid confronting the message. 

But the OAS report cuts through that noise, reminding public officials that their words carry weight, and that with that weight comes an obligation: not to inflame, not to intimidate, and certainly not to interfere.

Equally troubling is the report’s highlighting of financial leverage as a potential tool of influence. The issue of outstanding state debts to media entities, alongside the broader principle outlined by the IACHR, underscores a dangerous reality—public funds can be weaponised to reward compliance and punish criticism. That is not governance. That is coercion dressed in bureaucracy.

Then there is the persistent fog surrounding access to information. Protests outside the Office of the Information Commissioner, the failure to produce mandatory reports for over a decade, and the routine denial or delay of information requests all point to a system designed not to inform, but to obstruct. Transparency is not optional in a democracy; it is foundational. When it is withheld, accountability withers.

The refusal to disclose campaign financing, the silence on the GDF helicopter crash report, and the incomplete oil audit further deepen public distrust. These are not trivial matters. They go to the heart of governance, national security, and the management of the country’s most critical resources. A government confident in its stewardship does not hide from scrutiny—it welcomes it.

Even more concerning are the broader implications for political participation and democratic expression. The reported obstruction surrounding opposition activities and leadership processes, whether denied or not, feeds into a growing perception that the political space itself is being managed rather than contested freely. The OAS is unequivocal on this point: freedom of expression is not a luxury during political processes—it is the very mechanism through which democracy breathes.

And now, the global metrics are beginning to reflect what many on the ground have long observed. Guyana’s slip on the Reporters Without Borders Press Freedom Index is not an isolated statistic—it is a symptom. A symptom of a deteriorating environment where access is restricted, criticism is vilified, and information is controlled.

What makes this moment particularly consequential is not just the content of the report, but the credibility of its source. The OAS Special Rapporteur is not a partisan actor, nor a local critic easily dismissed. It is part of an established inter-American human rights framework, grounded in legal principles and democratic norms that Guyana itself has committed to uphold.

The predictable response will come—deflection, denial, and the familiar chorus of “misrepresentation.” But that will not erase the substance of what has been documented. Nor will it restore confidence in institutions that appear increasingly resistant to scrutiny.

The question now is whether the government will treat this report as an attack to be repelled or a warning to be heeded. Because the stakes are not merely reputational. They are democratic.

A government that controls access to information, selectively engages the press, and dismisses criticism as hostility does not strengthen the State—it weakens it. And a society where journalists operate under pressure, exclusion, or uncertainty is not one that can claim to be fully free.

This report should not be buried beneath rhetoric. It should be confronted—with transparency, with reform, and with a renewed commitment to the principle that no democracy can function in the absence of a free, independent, and unencumbered press.

Anything less would only confirm what this report has already made clear.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 592 𝙂𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣-𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 , 𝘼𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮,𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙄𝙣𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨.— ✦—