Servants in our own house

Oct 18, 2025 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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(Kaieteur News) – There is a certain smallness to our imagination as a nation. It is a tragic limitation that defines our politics, our bureaucracy, even our ambitions. It is not that we lack people who can think, but that those who hold the levers of power are unable to think beyond the idea of pleasing foreigners.

And so, almost 60 years after independence we are still servants in our own house — watchmen to our own resources, bookkeepers to other men’s fortunes.

Over post 1985 leaders have been telling us that foreign investment is the way to go. This was the message of Desmond Hoyte and it is the mantra of Jagdeo and Ali.  Our leaders have convinced the gullible that with every multinational that sets foot here, prosperity would follow, like a tide lifting all boats.

Instead, what we have gotten are ghost factories like Barama, exhausted mines like Omai, and the fleeting illusion of progress. What we have lost, we may never fully calculate — not only in gold and timber, in oil and bauxite, but in the quiet erosion of our sovereignty.

The government, that timid beggar dressed in the costume of modernity, continues to hand out fiscal concessions like a man tossing coins at a passing parade. Duty-free privileges, tax holidays, import waivers — they are the new language of our dependency. Each one is signed, sealed, and celebrated as “investment promotion,” as if we are supposed to be grateful for our own impoverishment.

The multinationals arrive like kings. They rip open our land and sea bed, pollute our rivers, and strip our forests bare. And then, after a few years, they declare “no profits” and leave us staring at the ruins of their promises.

It is as if the government has never learned from the stories of our past. We have had companies before — foreign, powerful, and clever — who knew exactly how to operate in small countries. They arrive with consultants and smiles, speaking the language of partnership. They say “we will create jobs.” They say “we will bring technology.” They say “we will help you grow.” And our politicians, desperate for applause, believe them every time. In the end, the jobs vanish, the technology never comes, and the only thing that grows is the foreign firm’s offshore bank account.

The idea of fiscal concessions is not new. But in Guyana, it has become a disease, an addiction, an affliction. The logic is that we must “reduce the cost of investment.” But whose investment? For whose benefit? The cost we are reducing is the cost to foreigners, while the burden we increase is borne by every Guyanese taxpayer. The foregone revenue, the billions we give away each year could have built schools, hospitals, and proper roads. Instead, it builds the profit margins of companies that will soon declare bankruptcy or vanish into some shell company.

Meanwhile, Donald Trump, the man often mocked for his excesses, has begun doing something our leaders cannot imagine. He has told companies that if they want taxpayer money, they must give taxpayers something tangible in return. In one deal with Intel, the U.S. government received shares in exchange for public subsidies. In another, Trump demanded a “golden share” — a special kind of ownership that allows government to protect national interests, including workers, in case the company decides to close down some of its American enterprises. Trump’s approach is a form of reciprocity. It says that if the public supports you, the public must benefit.

Why can we not do the same? Why must we be forever content to play the role of supplicant, offering up our treasury, our land, and our resources for a smile and a handshake? Guyana’s leaders have mistaken giveaways for growth. But there is no progress in being looted efficiently. There is no dignity in calling dependency development.

The irony is bitter. We are sitting on resources that the world covets — oil, gold, bauxite, timber, freshwater. Yet, for all our wealth, we behave as though we have nothing to bargain with. We are not poor in resources; we are poor in courage and imagination and leadership.

If we had any sense of self-worth, we would demand a stake in every foreign firm that benefits from our generosity. Not as a token, but as a principle. For every tax holiday, we should receive equity; for every concession, a golden share. Let the foreign investor know that the people of Guyana are not mere spectators, but shareholders in their own destiny. That is how small nations grow strong. They do so not by begging, but by negotiating from strength.

But such an idea will frighten our policymakers. It requires vision, and vision is a rare thing in a country ruled by mediocrity. We are content to boast of GDP numbers while the real wealth flows out through the back door. The government will tell us about “job creation,” but we have seen the quality of those jobs — temporary, underpaid, and vanishing the moment the investor tires of us. We are told about “technology transfer,” yet all we inherit are rusting machines and empty promises.

The story of Guyana’s concessions is one of surrender. And until we learn to think differently, to demand not gifts, but ownership, we shall remain what we have always been: a rich country inhabited by poor people, a sovereign nation managed like a colony.

(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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• bureaucracy, foreigners, own house, servants

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