Dear Editor,
The people of Hungary have spoken — and the echo is global. Viktor Orbán, Europe’s once-untouchable strongman, has discovered the immutable truth that every autocrat learns too late: power built on fear is brittle. After sixteen years of manipulating courts, crippling the press, and wrapping tyranny in patriotism, Orbán was brought down not by foreign powers or political rivals — but by ordinary citizens who simply decided they had enough. The people refused to be governed by arrogance any longer.
That same spirit now stirs in the Caribbean. In Trinidad and Tobago, Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar — a leader once hailed as progressive — has chosen confrontation over cooperation, branding CARICOM a “failing institution” and mocking regional partners caught in U.S. visa sanctions. Her disdain did not stop at institutions; it spilled into the moral fabric of Caribbean togetherness. Whether to curry favour with Washington or to play to a certain domestic gallery, her scorn has exposed a dangerous truth: some leaders no longer see their peers, or their people, as equals.
In Guyana, President Irfaan Ali marches to a similar drumbeat.
Behind the polished speeches and ribbon-cuttings lies an increasingly choreographed performance of control. The government’s rhetoric of “One Guyana” crumbles against a backdrop of growing ethnic and class divides, resource inequality, and press intimidation. Journalists are labeled “unpatriotic” for asking difficult questions. Civil society organisations are treated as nuisances rather than partners. The Parliament has become a theatre of pre-approved applause.
When citizens protest against oil deals shrouded in secrecy or foreign interference in domestic affairs, they are branded enemies of development.
And hovering over that stage are foreign actors — like U.S. Ambassador Nicole Theriot — whose interventions blur the line between diplomacy and intrusion. Her unwelcome commentary on internal matters has stirred outrage among Guyanese who still believe in sovereignty. The people see clearly what many in high office pretend not to notice: that democracy erodes not only when leaders silence critics, but when they surrender independence under the guise of partnership.
But the masses are awakening. From Georgetown’s crowded markets to the streets of Port of Spain, whispers are turning into a roar: we are the gatekeepers of power. We have seen enough arrogance dressed as leadership, enough photo-ops masking exploitation. We understand that every foreign ambassador, every political dynasty, every puffed-up ruler comes and goes — but the people remain.
Trump — the idol of many of these new-world nationalists — will be long gone before their terms expire. His chaos has no staying power because demagoguery cannot outlive democracy. The Caribbean must not import that disease. Our nations were born from struggle, rebellion, and resilience. We have known the lash of empire, the betrayal of the elite, the false promises of modernity. Yet every decade, the people stand up again — to remind those in lofty office that power without consent is nothing but noise.
Orbán’s fall is not distant. It is prophetic. It tells us that even the most fortified rulers cannot withstand the collective will of the governed. The same winds that swept through Hungary will, in time, sweep through any house built on oppression — whether that house stands in Europe, Asia, or the Caribbean.
Let this be a warning to those now drunk on power: the people are watching. Every manipulation of justice, every silenced journalist, every abuse of office is being recorded in the ledger of public memory. And when the time comes — as it did for Orbán — that memory will speak louder than propaganda.
𝘕𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯. 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 — 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥.
“𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘁: 𝗽𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿.”
Sincerely,
Hemdutt Kumar
