Dear Editor
Even as Guyana celebrates unprecedented oil revenues and boasts of becoming a “world-class” nation, a far more sobering reality is unfolding beneath the surface—one that no ribbon-cutting ceremony or glossy investment brochure can conceal. According to the 2026 United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) Democracy and Development Report, Guyana now ranks among the worst countries in the world for brain drain, surpassing even nations grappling with war, systemic collapse, and humanitarian disaster.
𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙄𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜.
How does a country experiencing one of the fastest economic expansions globally simultaneously record one of the highest rates of human capital flight? How does a nation flush with oil revenues fail so profoundly at retaining its most educated citizens?
These are not abstract questions—they strike at the heart of governance, priorities, and the integrity of leadership.
President Irfaan Ali, in his recent outreach to the diaspora in Canada, painted a picture of a rapidly modernizing Guyana—a land of opportunity calling its sons and daughters home. But the UNDP’s findings tell a different story: a country its own people are fleeing in record numbers. Nearly 90 percent of Guyanese with tertiary education eventually leave. That is not migration. That is a structural evacuation of talent.
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙖. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙟𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.
At the core of this exodus lies a troubling contradiction. Guyana is rich in resources but poor in institutional quality. Oil wealth has expanded GDP, but it has not translated into improved healthcare, education, housing, or professional working conditions. Instead, many citizens experience a daily reality marked by rising cost of living, strained public services, and limited merit-based opportunities.
The UNDP report underscores this imbalance. Life expectancy remains among the lowest in the Caribbean. Healthcare infrastructure continues to lag. Public institutions are struggling. These are not the hallmarks of a “world-class” nation—they are warning signs of a country failing to convert wealth into human development.
But beyond infrastructure, there is a deeper, more uncomfortable truth—one that many Guyanese speak about privately but fear articulating publicly.
𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙨.
There is a growing perception, both locally and in the diaspora, that advancement within key sectors is too often influenced by political loyalty, personal connections, and cronyism rather than competence. Talented professionals—doctors, engineers, analysts, public servants—find themselves sidelined, overlooked, or forced to operate in environments where excellence is neither rewarded nor protected.
𝙄𝙣 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖 𝙨𝙮𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙢, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚—𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙩.
As the saying goes in Guyana, “the government don’t like bright people.” Whether rhetorical or real, that sentiment is gaining traction because it reflects lived experiences. When capable individuals feel constrained by less qualified leadership, when innovation is stifled by bureaucracy, and when integrity is undermined by patronage, migration becomes not just an option—but a necessity.
The result is a dangerous cycle.
As skilled citizens leave, institutional capacity weakens. As institutions weaken, governance deteriorates. As governance deteriorates, more people lose confidence and follow the same path out. What remains is a hollowed-out state—one rich in oil but poor in expertise, oversight, and accountability.
This is not theoretical. The UNDP explicitly warns that Guyana’s brain drain is both a cause and a consequence of democratic decline.
𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙩𝙨, 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙮, 𝙘𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙘 𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙙𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚.
𝙒𝙝𝙤, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣, 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙞𝙡 𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙢𝙮? 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙮? 𝙒𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚?
At the same time, Guyana is absorbing migrants fleeing crisis in neighboring Venezuela—many of whom face the same systemic challenges in accessing healthcare, housing, and employment. This creates a dual pressure: a loss of domestic talent alongside the strain of integrating vulnerable populations into already fragile systems.
The government cannot continue to ignore this reality or dismiss it as a natural byproduct of globalization. This is not a case of people simply seeking “better opportunities” abroad. This is a referendum on governance.
If Guyana is to reverse this trend, it must confront uncomfortable truths.
𝙊𝙞𝙡 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙖 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣—𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙙𝙤. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚.
Retention of talent requires more than patriotic appeals. It demands:
- A genuine commitment to meritocracy in public appointments and promotions
- Competitive wages and working conditions in critical sectors like healthcare and education
- Serious investment in public services that improve quality of life
- Transparent governance that rebuilds trust in state institutions
- A political culture that values competence over compliance
Until these issues are addressed, calls for the diaspora to return will ring hollow.
Guyana does not have a shortage of talent. It has a shortage of conditions that allow talent to stay.
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙭 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧—𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣.
𝙄𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤.
Sincerely
Hemdutt Kumar
