The colour of your clothing

Aug 28, 2025 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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Kaieteur News – During the recent Disciplined Services vote, an incident occurred that was both humorous and telling. One of the Commissioners of the Guyana Elections Commission, while observing the polling process, expressed concern over a small group of police recruits.

These recruits were wearing outfits that, in part, included a red tie. Red, of course, is the colour of the ruling People’s Progressive Party Civic. The Commissioner’s concern was understandable: red, in the context of Guyanese politics, carries unmistakable symbolic weight.

Yet, what the Commissioner did not realise was that this red tie is a longstanding part of the uniform of recruits into the Police Force, a tradition that predates any current political contest. The irony is palpable. The tie, meant to signify discipline and uniformity, was read as a banner of partisanship.

As if to underscore the absurdity of the moment, at the same polling exercise at least two candidates appeared, each wearing attire unmistakably in the colours of their respective parties. One donned a green shirt; the other, a blue jacket. No one raised an eyebrow at these choices, yet their ensembles were, by all appearances, exactly the sort of partisan signalling that seems to concern some observers. The juxtaposition is curious: a red tie, worn by the uniformed officer in the service of the nation, is suspect; a green or blue garment, worn voluntarily by a candidate, passes without remark.

Ahead of the 2020 elections, the Chair of the Guyana Elections Commission (GECOM) sought to clarify this very matter. “I can’t tell somebody he must not wear a red shirt or a yellow shirt,” she said, “but I would expect the person to not be wearing slogans.”

The statement was both practical and, in its own way, elegant. It recognises the difference between colour and message. To wear a colour—red, yellow, blue, green—is to exercise an innocent preference or perhaps a simple sartorial choice. To wear a slogan, to brandish an emblem, is to seek to influence the act of voting itself. The distinction, though clear in principle, becomes muddled in practice.

From my reading, it is my interpretation that no one can be prevented from turning up to vote in any of the customary political colours—red, blue, green, yellow—so long as the clothing does not contain symbols or logos of their parties. There is, after all, a large difference between hue and heraldry. A red tie signals nothing about a voter’s preference. A shirt with the party logo emblazoned across it signals everything. This is a distinction that should be universally understood and uniformly applied.

Yet uniformity is precisely what is missing. On election day, polling stations are crowded, and inevitably a little chaotic. Presiding officers, human and conscientious, may interpret guidance differently. One may see a red shirt and think, “This is improper.” Another may see a green tie and think nothing at all. The result is inconsistent treatment, confusion, and, occasionally, embarrassment. Voters can be made to feel unsure, polling officials uncertain, and the process itself slightly tarnished by ambiguity. These are matters of perception, yet perception matters. The legitimacy of elections rests as much on the clarity of rules as on their strict enforcement.

It is therefore essential that the issue of clothing at polling stations be clarified with precision and communicated widely. The rules should be written in language that leaves no room for guesswork: colours may be worn; slogans, logos, and other party insignia may not. Presiding officers should be trained accordingly, so that enforcement is consistent, impartial, and fair. Such clarity would serve not only the voters but the Commission itself, by removing any pretext for dispute or complaint.

The irony of the police recruits’ red ties is instructive. It reminds us that context matters, that symbolism is fluid, and that rigid interpretation can be absurd. A tie that once signified nothing more than belonging to a disciplined service can, in the heat of an election, be mistaken for a partisan declaration. A green shirt or blue jacket, worn by a candidate, may be read as entirely proper. The lesson is not to ban colour, nor to scrutinise every thread of fabric, but to distinguish between neutral expression and partisan promotion.

Elections are, after all, an exercise in democracy, not a fashion show, yet clothing enters the equation because humans are visual creatures. If there is one small reform that can preserve both the dignity of voters and the efficiency of election management, it is clarity on attire. The voters’ right to express themselves innocuously must be preserved. The imperative to prevent electioneering in the polling place must be enforced.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

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• clothing, colour, Disciplined Services’, Guyana Elections, Peeping Tom, PPPC

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