Dear Editor,
There is a particular kind of silence that does not signify peace, but rather the quiet scraping of a conscience being filed away for a better price. Last month, as President Irfaan Ali stood before the National Assembly of Belize, a profound and hollow silence echoed across the Caribbean. He was invited to the podium by Prime Minister John Briceño, who had just delivered a stirring plea for the survival of Cuba—a nation currently being strangled by a renewed, medieval blockade. Yet, when our President spoke, the word “Cuba” was absent. It was a surgical omission; it was the sound of a moral debt being defaulted upon in broad daylight.
For those who remember the long, grueling walk toward Guyanese independence, this silence is more than a diplomatic “pivot”—it is a desecration of the very foundation of our Republic. We must ask: where is the ghost of Dr. Cheddi Jagan in this administration? Jagan, who saw anti-imperialism not as a slogan but as a survival strategy. Jagan, who was systematically destabilized, slandered, and ousted by the very imperialist machinery that President Ali now courts with such desperate fervor. To remain silent while Cuba is systematically dismantled is to spit on the grave of the man who founded the very party Ali leads. It is impossible to forget that when Guyana was a “baby nation” struggling to breathe, it was Havana—not Washington—that reached out with the oxygen of medical aid, scholarships, and technical cooperation.
The mathematics of this betrayal are staggering. For over five decades, the Cuban Medical Brigade has been the backbone of Guyana’s healthcare, serving in the trenches of our nation where others refused to go. Thousands of Guyanese are alive today because of doctors who served for the love of humanity, not the love of offshore drilling rights. Entire generations of our specialists, engineers, and scientists were trained on Cuban soil, educated and fed by a people who had little to give but gave it all. Now, as Guyana ascends into the ranks of the “oil-rich,” we are watching a tragic transformation: we are becoming a nation that knows the price of a barrel but has forgotten the value of a brother.
We are witnessing the resurgence of a “Monroe Doctrine” for the 21st century—a “Donroe Doctrine” that demands total fealty to the US military-industrial complex in exchange for a seat at the table of global capital. The January 3rd attack on Venezuela was the warning shot; the current strangulation of Cuba is the siege. When President Ali refuses to speak, he sends a chilling message to every small state in the Caribbean: that our sovereignty is for sale, our history is a liability, and our neighbors are expendable. By failing to engage in the struggle against this imperialist aggression, we are throwing out the red carpet for direct colonial control over Caribbean people and resources once again.
To the leaders of CARICOM who remain mute while this regime amasses its might: history is a relentless judge. You cannot build a stable future on the betrayal of those who helped you build your past. If we allow the Cuban Revolution to be crushed, we lose the “bright beacon” that proves resistance is possible. We forfeit the very idea that a Caribbean nation can determine its own destiny. President Ali, the medical brigades are watching. The lights in Havana are flickering. The “permanent interests” of the North will eventually pivot away from Guyana’s oil, but the stain of this cowardice will be permanent. It is time to find your voice, or admit that the office you hold no longer belongs to the Guyanese people, but to the highest bidder. The Caribbean people have a material interest in anti-imperialism; we have a moral interest in Cuba. We will not be silent, even if our leaders have lost the courage to speak.
When a leader loses touch with humanity, forsakes integrity, and forgets the grace of dignity and empathy, a nation is left adrift—searching not for power, but for a statesman.