Dear Editor,
Let’s consider this: Azzrudin Mohammed and his party’s remarkable achievement of their unprecedented rise to the status of Official Opposition and his assumption of the title of Leader of the Opposition in a mere four months is nothing short of phenomenal. This was not the culmination of a lifelong ascent within a decades-old political dynasty, nor was it a reward for loyal service to a pre-built ethnic voting bloc. It was a meteoric rise built on contemporary appeal, in stark contrast to the inherited political franchises that dominate our landscape. His circumstance forces a vital question onto the national stage: what is the true measure of political viability in Guyana—inheriting a machine, or building a movement from the ground up?
Let’s conduct a thought experiment. Strip away the red, yellow, and green banners. Mute the chants of the party choir. Take away the inherited machinery, the ethnic voting bloc pre-assembled by history and trauma, and the vast treasury of state resources at their disposal.
Now, place other leaders on an empty Savannah stage. Could they, as individuals, have built a party from zero, articulated a vision so compelling, and garnered such cross-societal trust that they could have won a single seat—let alone a government?
The very question is a grenade tossed into the theater of our politics. It exposes the uncomfortable truth we are conditioned to ignore: We do not have phenomenal leaders. We have phenomenal political franchises.
The reverence bestowed upon these figures is not for their independent genius, but for their role as CEOs of an inherited family business. Their “greatness” is a product of the machine, not the cause of it. Their followers, often bound by a deep-seated ethnic allegiance and a fear of the “other side,” confuse loyalty to the tribe with admiration for the individual. This transforms politics into a faith, leaders into deities, and criticism into blasphemy. It is the anatomy of a political cult.
Now, contrast this with any politician operating outside these two monolithic franchises. They face the brutal, unsubsidized reality. They must build trust person by person, across bitter divides, without the crutch of ethnic mobilization. They are judged purely on merit, charisma, and policy—not on which historical banner they wave. Their struggle highlights the artificiality of the “phenomenal leader” myth. It is a testament of genuine political entrepreneurship and reinforces the hallmarks of what true leadership looks like in a polarized society: an almost impossible climb.
This cult of personality has a devastating cost. It allows the oceanfront villas for the connected and the waiting list for the masses to coexist without revolt. It excuses corruption as “looking after our own.” It replaces critical thinking with devotional chanting. The dreamers are not dreaming of a better Guyana; they are dreaming of their team’s victory, even if that victory never translates into their own dignity.
Awakening is not about switching parties. It is about switching frameworks. It is about seeing the leader not as a messiah of the tribe, but as a public servant of the nation—one whose viability should be measured by what they build for all citizens, not by how fiercely their cult defends them. Until we see past the machine to the individual, and judge that individual on ethics and equity alone, we remain not citizens, but followers in a dream that benefits only the few at the top.
Yours truly,
Hemdutt Kumar
