Dear Editor,
In the halls of justice, silence is often as profound as the rulings handed down from the bench. Yet, in Guyana, we are witnessing a peculiar, loud, and persistent attempt to drown out the echoes of judicial scrutiny with the roar of heavy machinery. Attorney General and Minister of Legal Affairs, Mohabir Anil Nandlall, has recently pivoted from the defense of his office—currently reeling from intense critique by the Caribbean Court of Justice (CCJ) regarding conduct unbecoming of his portfolio—to the unexpected role of an infrastructure site foreman.
This is not merely a government minister visiting a project; it is a calculated performance of governance. By positioning himself at the center of the Buzz Bee Dam to Land of Canaan highway extension, the AG is attempting a visual and narrative relocation of his stature.
𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗽𝗲𝘅 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲’𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺.
Instead, we see an AG in the “deep recesses of the backlands,” painting a picture of progress to distract from the paralysis of principle in our legal system.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝘆 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱-𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗽𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻-𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗲. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗚 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 “𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘀” 𝗮𝗻𝗱 “𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘂𝗽 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀,” 𝘆𝗲𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 𝗕𝘆 𝗼𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗽𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗣𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀, 𝗡𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗱𝘂𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲; 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗻𝘁. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘅 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗚𝘂𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲: 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗼 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲, 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗻, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗱𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲.
The cost of this neglect can’t be ignored, while the Attorney General busies himself playing project manager in the “deep recesses of the backlands,” a far more consequential sovereign process looms on the horizon: the International Court of Justice (ICJ) border case. At this critical juncture, where the very integrity of our nation’s territory is at stake, the AG’s conduct is not merely an anomaly; it is a dereliction of duty. Rather than fostering the national unity required to confront this existential challenge, Nandlall continues to shirk his constitutional mandate by stubbornly refusing to engage with the Leader of the Opposition (LOO).
𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁; 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗳 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
By actively excluding the representative of a massive segment of the citizenry from the consultative process on a matter of absolute sovereignty, the AG is treating our Republic’s future as a partisan project. He chooses the comfort of a construction site, where he can curate a narrative of “progress,” over the difficult, necessary work of national consensus-building. When the history of this era is written, it will not be measured by the miles of asphalt poured under his watch, but by the reckless abandonment of the legal and consultative standards that define a democratic state. The AG is building roads, but he is burning bridges—and in the process, he is leaving the Republic dangerously exposed.
𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆—𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗰𝗵𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹, 𝗴𝗿𝘂𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹, 𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝘀𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗹𝘁.
For the Citizens of Guyana, the question remains: if the foundation of our rule of law is crumbling under the weight of “conduct unbecoming,” can a new highway, no matter how wide, ever truly lead us in the right direction? The public is being asked to look at the highway, but we must never lose sight of the bench.
Sincerely,
Hemdutt Kumar .
