Dear Editor,
“Guyanese must resist the quiet capture of Parliament, demand the swift election of a Leader of the Opposition, and defend their votes from becoming ornaments of one‑party rule.”
The recent convening of the 13th Parliament should have been a moment to renew Guyana’s democratic promise; instead, it exposed how far the country is drifting toward one‑party rule. Using its narrow majority, the government seized both the Speaker and Deputy Speaker posts, abandoning the long‑standing convention that the Deputy Speaker comes from the opposition as a gesture of balance, respect, and inclusion. What is lawful is not always legitimate; this maneuver converted a house of the people into a chamber choreographed by the Executive.
More alarming still was the calculated decision to delay the election and swearing‑in of the Leader of the Opposition (LOO) at the first sitting of Parliament. The Constitution clearly envisages the LOO as an essential counterweight, chosen by non‑government MPs, whose role is embedded in the appointment and oversight architecture of key commissions and constitutional offices. By stalling this process without any credible explanation, those in power have left Parliament technically convened but politically incomplete, weakening the very checks and balances that protect citizens from arbitrary rule.
This is not a mere quarrel over titles; it is a direct assault on the spine of the republic. Without a duly elected LOO, appointments to vital bodies risk becoming partisan rubber stamps, further entrenching an Executive that already dominates the legislature’s leadership. Public servants, regulators, and security agencies quickly learn the new lesson: loyalty to the ruling party matters more than loyalty to the Constitution.
On the streets, the party whose leader is presumed to be LOO has turned to peaceful protest, demanding that the will of nearly half the electorate be recognised in the formal structures of the state. Yet these lawful demonstrations have so far been met with silence, indifference, or delay—confirming the chilling message that the government can ignore dissent without cost. When institutions are captured and protest is disregarded, citizens are pushed toward apathy or anger, both deadly for a fragile democracy.
Meanwhile, ordinary Guyanese pay the price in their daily lives. A Parliament emptied of genuine opposition scrutiny means fewer brakes on corruption, weaker oversight over oil wealth, and less accountability for how contracts, jobs, and resources are distributed. When the Executive prefers to rule by decree and delegation rather than by consent and legislation, courts and commissions become slower, journalists more vulnerable, and communities more fearful to speak up.
These are the classic early warning signs of competitive authoritarianism: elections on paper, but real power hoarded behind a single party’s closed doors. If Guyana continues down this path, the voice of voters will be sacrificed on the altar of political expediency, and Parliament will be reduced to a prop that merely legitimises decisions already made elsewhere. Guyanese across all parties and communities must therefore insist—not politely request, but insist—that the LOO be elected without further delay, conventions of shared leadership be restored, and the Constitution be honoured in both letter and spirit before this slow march toward one‑party rule becomes a sprint.
Sincerely,
Hemdutt Kumar
