Does the PNCR really want to go down this road?

Apr 10, 2025 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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Peeping Tom…

Kaieteur News- By the time I reached the fourth cup of chamomile tea—don’t judge me, it’s calming—I had only just begun to untangle the tangled philosophical, political, and possibly metaphysical mystery of what the PNCR really wants when it talks about “verifying the voters’ list.”

I mean, “verification” sounds harmless enough, like confirming your reservation at a restaurant, or checking to see if your date is really a Gemini. But with the PNCR, you always get the sense that there’s more happening below the surface, like a duck that looks serene while its feet are flailing violently below the water.

Let’s get this straight. If the PNCR wants to verify whether people are alive, I’m with them there. That seems like a noble cause. I too have often wondered whether some of my neighbors are alive or just exceptionally quiet introverts. In fact, I’ve begun to suspect my uncle Leopold has been dead for 17 years but still collects pension.

And now, in the midst of this great national existential crisis comes the burning question: why should GECOM be saddled with the task of verifying whether voters are dead? I mean, are we expecting GECOM to set up a Ouija board department?  Let’s be honest—dead people can’t vote. Not with all the scrutineers, party agents, polling clerks, and nosy neighbours stationed at polling places like hawks on Red Bull. The system is built with enough layers of surveillance to make even the CIA blush.

And isn’t that what the Claims and Objections period is for? To sift out the dearly departed. That’s the whole point of it! A public process, open to all—where political parties, vigilant citizens, and the occasional nosy auntie can help clean the list. So why is the PNCR now acting like the kid who shows up at group work with no homework and expects the teacher to do it for them? If they believe in the resurrection of voters, then maybe they should start by doing a little fieldwork of their own, rather than outsourcing their chores to the same folks who made the Kool-Aid they now claim might be laced with poison.

But the PNCR doesn’t stop with the dead. No, they also presumably want to verify whether voters “live in Guyana.” Which immediately sends us tumbling into the philosophical abyss. What does it mean to “live” in Guyana? Is it about physical presence?  Does merely having a Guyanese passport or birth certificate make you Guyanese enough to vote? What if you live in Bartica but you are spending more time with the grandchildren in New York than you are in Guyana? How do you, in other words determine residency?

And then, if that wasn’t enough, they also want to verify whether voters live at the addresses stated. Some persons in Guyana – especially some men, have more than one homes… if you know what I mean. Some people rent a place to be nearer to work while they really live elsewhere. Some people don’t know where they live. How then does one define and determine residency?

So, let’s strip this down. The PNCR wants to know if voters are alive (good), if they live in Guyana (murky), and if they live where they claim (possibly the stuff of Greek tragedy). But here’s the catch: aside from the first one, all the others are essentially about residency. And here comes the twist—there’s no residency requirement for voting in Guyana. None. Nada. Not even a whisper. So, what is the point of wanting to establish residency?

The Constitution—the thing politicians occasionally dust off when convenient—clearly allows Guyanese citizens to vote once they are 18 and registered. It doesn’t say they have to live in Kitty, or Kwakwani, or even be able to find Guyana on a map after ten years of living in Toronto. If you’re Guyanese, and you’re legally registered, you can show up, vote, and leave.

And the PNCR should know this. After all, it was part of the very effort that embedded this right into the Constitution. So, either they’ve developed political amnesia (which is likely) or they’re doing that thing politicians do, where they pretend not to remember the rules when the game isn’t going their way.

Let’s also not forget—because, unlike certain political entities, we do remember—that in 2015, when the PNCR was enthusiastically marching toward the gates of power a whole contingent of diaspora voters flew in to cast their ballots. Some came from Brooklyn, others from Barbados, and at least one man swam from Suriname with a laminated ID card in his trunks. There were even Guyanese who hadn’t been back since Jagdeo had hair. And no one said a word about “verifying residency” back then. It was patriotic. It was romantic. It was democracy in action.

So, what’s changed?

Is it that the PNCR has had a revelation—some sudden Pauline conversion—about the importance of electoral integrity? Or is this a subtle, not-so-subtle attempt to introduce, by the back door or through the skylight, a residency requirement for voting?

Now, if they do want to go down this road, I must warn them: it’s a long and winding one, filled with potholes, dead ends, and constitutional lawsuits. Because if we start asking whether people reside in Guyana to determine their eligibility to vote, we’re not talking about voter verification anymore—we’re talking about voter exclusion.

What next? Will we ask for proof that they’ve been to the market recently? Will there be a pop quiz on the latest news from Kaieteur News? A smell test to see if their clothes smell like real Guyana sweat? Will there be a requirement that they know how to suck mango without using their hands?

Frankly, I don’t think the PNCR has thought this through. Or worse, they have thought it through, and they’re hoping the rest of us haven’t. Either way, the implications are serious.

So, my dear PNCR, before you gallop down this verification road, maybe stop and ask: Do we really want to go there? Because the road you’re on doesn’t lead to electoral integrity—it leads to disenfranchisement, cynicism, and possibly a constitutional challenge with a side of international embarrassment.

And trust me, nobody wants to be on that road. Not even uncle Leopold. And he’s still not sure if he’s alive.

(Does the PNCR really want to go down this road?)

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• GECOM, Gemini, no homework, PNCR, polling clerks

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