Dear Editor,
Guyana did not fall into its present oil predicament by chance. It was led there—step by step—through weak bargaining, political complacency, and a systematic refusal to tell the country the full truth about the deals being signed in its name. The 2016 petroleum agreement, now rightly described as one of the most lopsided on the global stage, did not appear out of thin air. It grew from old habits, old failures, and a pattern of surrender disguised as compromise.
At the heart of this story stands Raphael Trotman. It was in his tenure as Minister of Natural Resources that Guyana signed the 2016 petroleum agreement with ExxonMobil, Hess, and CNOOC, locking in a 2% royalty, sweeping tax concessions, and a fiscal structure that has left ordinary Guyanese asking how a nation so rich can still feel so poor. That agreement did not emerge in a vacuum; it was the product of an APNU+AFC administration that prioritised speed over scrutiny, and closing the deal over maximising national gain. The result is a bargain in which the companies have already recouped their investments while accumulating profits that dwarf Guyana’s national budget—a state of affairs that has been reported by multiple watchdogs and analysts, but never fully acknowledged in policy.
The roots of this no‑man’s land run even deeper. The 1999 oil agreement, signed long before Guyana became a major producer, set the template for elite bargaining behind closed doors and a national habit of confusing access with advantage. By the time the 2016 agreement was finalised, the institutions meant to protect Guyana’s interests were already under‑equipped and under‑scrutinised. ExxonMobil, far from a passive partner, is reported to have exerted pressure on Guyanese officials to sign quickly, even as the country lacked the full financial picture of what it was signing. When the company could move faster than the state meant to regulate it, Guyana was not negotiating from strength; it was negotiating from desperation.
Equally telling is what has happened since the oil started flowing: secrecy, resistance to accountability, and the refusal to release critical documents.
The long‑promised Clyde & Company report, which assesses the 2016 deal, remains withheld from public view, as though transparency were a threat rather than a foundation of good governance. The promise of an independent petroleum commission has been repeatedly delayed, with oversight still vulnerable to political interference. If a nation cannot be trusted with the full facts about its most valuable resource, then the question of sovereignty is not rhetorical—it is empirical.
It is in this context that Christopher Ram’s call for renegotiation must be understood. It is not a rejection of investment or a tantrum against big business. It is a demand that Guyana stop pretending a bad bargain becomes sacred just because it was signed. The circumstances have changed. Guyana is no longer a high‑risk frontier to be courted; it is a proven oil producer with global strategic importance. To keep the 2016 terms frozen in time is to accept a permanent imbalance that no serious nation should tolerate.
Addressing this legacy means naming the names, owning the decisions, and confronting the reality that the country has been boxed into a no‑man’s land of its own making. The 1999 and 2016 agreements must be subject to a full commission of inquiry, not as a political exercise, but as a necessary step toward restoring public trust. The Clyde & Company report must be released in full. An independent petroleum commission must finally be established, grounded in technical expertise and insulated from political pressure.
If Guyana is serious about economic independence, it must move beyond the illusion of growth and confront the substance of who truly benefits from its wealth. The oil is flowing. The revenues are rising. The real test is whether the country has the courage to ask who it is really for.
Sincerely,
Hemdutt Kumar
