The bloodstained soil of Jallianwala Bagh in Amritsar, India, bears a historical testament to the cruelty of unchecked colonial power. On April 13, 1919, British troops under Brigadier General Reginald Dyer massacred hundreds of unarmed civilians who had gathered in peaceful protest. It was not merely a show of force—it was a calculated act to remind a colonised people of their place under an oppressive regime. Today, more than a century later and thousands of miles away, the haunting parallels between that tragedy and the current state of affairs in Guyana under the People’s Progressive Party (PPP) government are difficult to ignore.
In Guyana, a nation that once fought hard to shake off the shackles of British colonialism, the democratic values promised to its citizens are being eroded—silently, but violently. Reports of the killing of young people, often shrouded in vague justifications or buried beneath bureaucratic silence, paint a chilling picture of a government that appears to govern not through transparency and justice, but through fear, intimidation, and control.
Much like the British colonial administration that enforced the Rowlatt Act to suppress dissent without trial, the PPP government seems to be adapting those same instruments of authoritarian rule under a democratic disguise. The Guyana Police Force, instead of being protectors of the public, are increasingly viewed as enforcers of political will. The justice system, once a hopeful pillar of fairness, now trembles under accusations of political interference and selective prosecution. Civil voices—especially those of the youth—are often silenced, not with bullets in broad daylight as in Jallianwala Bagh, but through pellet bullets, harassment, unlawful detainment, and sometimes deadly force.
The cries of grieving mothers, family members, and the outrage of communities have been met with indifference from the PPP government that is meant to serve, not subjugate. The PPP administration, by its inaction and complicity, has failed the people of Guyana—not just politically, but morally. When young lives are lost and justice is absent, when power is centralized and criticism punished, when fear replaces freedom—then democracy is no longer alive; it is on life support.
Rabindranath Tagore returned his knighthood after Jallianwala Bagh in disgust at the inhumanity of British rule. What symbolic gesture—or real action—can Guyanese leaders, civil society, and the international community now make to resist this descent into political darkness? How many more deaths must occur before the world acknowledges that democracy in Guyana is under siege?
History demands that we remember. But memory must not only inform—it must ignite action. Let Jallianwala Bagh not be just a page in a textbook, but a mirror in which we see our present clearly. Guyana cannot afford to trade its hard-won freedom for a recycled form of colonial governance wrapped in nationalist rhetoric.
The time to speak, act, and demand accountability is now. Silence is complicity. And Guyana’s future, like its young people, deserves a chance to live.
