I used to think democracies died dramatically. Soldiers in the streets. Coups. Cancelled elections. Political prisoners. I am beginning to understand that democracy can die much more quietly.
A government can win an election legitimately and then slowly reshape the environment around itself. Institutions weaken. The distinction between party and state becomes blurred. Public resources become political resources. Independent voices are attacked. People learn that access to jobs, contracts and opportunities may depend upon who they know and where their loyalties lie. The elections continue. Parliament continues. The courts continue. The government continues calling itself democratic. But something fundamental has changed. Perhaps one of the clearest warnings is what happens to wealth. When people enter political life with modest means and emerge among the superwealthy, citizens have a right to ask questions.
Young Guyanese see the houses. We see the vehicles. We see the contracts. We see people whose economic circumstances seem to change dramatically after acquiring political power or proximity to it. That matters because when political power becomes a pathway to enormous wealth, remaining in office becomes about much more than public service. There is money at stake.
Then controlling institutions matters. Controlling information matters. Discrediting journalists matters. Rewarding loyalists matters. Keeping citizens divided matters. And perhaps the most effective political strategy of all is making people believe that resistance is pointless.
You do not need to convince citizens that everything is wonderful. You only need to exhaust them. Tell one story today and another tomorrow. Repeat questionable claims until people become tired of challenging them. Answer criticism by attacking the critic. Flood the public conversation with distractions.
Eventually, truth itself becomes exhausting. People begin saying, “All politicians are the same.” They stop expecting accountability. They stop speaking. They stay home. And democracy begins dying inside the minds of citizens long before anybody formally abolishes it.
I worry that this is happening in Guyana. Look at the aftermath of the MV Barima tragedy.
Nearly 100 of our brothers and sisters are gone, and families are grieving. There are profound questions about what happened, why it happened and whether it could have been prevented. Yet politicians appear anxious to change the national conversation.
We are suddenly being invited to marvel at “model villages.” Model villages? Nearly 100 Guyanese are dead.
Roads, potable water, electricity, schools, healthcare and safe communities are not gifts bestowed upon citizens by politicians. These are ordinary obligations of government. It is our oil. Our taxes. Our natural resources. Our public purse. There is something indecent about political triumphalism while families are grieving.
There should be humility. There should be answers. There should be accountability. Instead, citizens are constantly being dragged from one announcement to another, one controversy to another, until yesterday’s outrage disappears beneath today’s headline. That is what worries me most.
A government does not have to silence everyone if it can exhaust enough people into silence. Democracy does not only depend upon elections. It depends upon citizens believing that institutions can deliver justice, that rules apply equally, that public officials are accountable and that speaking up still matters.
When those beliefs disappear, the structures of democracy may remain standing while its substance quietly drains away. Perhaps democracy finally dies when enough citizens decide that nothing they do matters. I fear we are much closer to that point than we are willing to admit.
