Dear Editor.
President Irfaan Ali says he is “not playing politics with potholes.” It is a neat line—clean, memorable, and designed to reassure.
But governance is not theatre. And the reality unfolding in Georgetown tells a more complicated story.
The decision to unilaterally assume control of more than 50 city roads is not just about fixing infrastructure. It is about power—how it is exercised, how it is expanded, and how easily it can blur the line between public service and political strategy.
Let us not pretend otherwise.
No one disputes that Georgetown’s roads need urgent attention. Citizens have endured years of neglect, and any effort to improve infrastructure should, in principle, be welcomed. But good governance is not defined by outcomes alone—it is defined by process, legitimacy, and respect for institutions.
And this is where the administration falters.
Political authority is not earned by wresting control of municipal assets under the banner of efficiency. That is not leadership. That is the use of central power to override local governance—because it is convenient, because it is expedient, and perhaps, because it is politically advantageous.
Georgetown’s City Council, flawed as it may be, exists because of the will of the people. It is a product of elections—of universal adult suffrage, a right that was not gifted but fought for, defended, and embedded as a cornerstone of democratic life in Guyana.
That history matters.
Because every time central government sidesteps or diminishes a locally elected body, it sends a message: that the voice of the people at that level can be bypassed when it becomes inconvenient.
That is a dangerous precedent.
If the administration believes the City Council is incapable of managing Georgetown, then there is a democratic remedy readily available—return to the people.
Call local government elections. Make the case. Win the mandate.
That is how legitimacy is earned.
Anything less risks being seen not as governance, but as encroachment.
And while the President speaks of long-term planning and integrated transport systems, the immediate reality is far more visible: freshly paved roads that will, inevitably, be credited to central government. Optics matter in politics, and infrastructure is among the most powerful political tools any administration can wield.
Which is precisely why this moment demands scrutiny.
Because development, when selectively executed within contested political spaces, is never politically neutral. It shapes perception. It builds influence. It redefines control.
Fixing roads is necessary. But it is not transformative.
True transformation lies in confronting the structural inequities that continue to define everyday life for many Guyanese—stagnant wages, gaps in healthcare, uneven access to quality education, and the unresolved question of whether the country’s oil wealth is being maximized for its people.
These are not as visible as asphalt. They do not deliver immediate political dividends. But they are the measures by which leadership is ultimately judged.
The risk here is not that Georgetown’s roads are being repaired. The risk is that the method chosen undermines the very democratic principles that give governance its legitimacy.
Power, if it is to be respected, must also be restrained.
President Ali insists this is not politics.
But when control is expanded without consent, when institutions are bypassed rather than strengthened, and when visibility aligns so neatly with political advantage, the public is entitled—indeed obligated—to question that claim.
Yours truly will continue to defend not just development, but the democratic framework within which it must occur.
Because roads can be rebuilt.
Public trust, once eroded, is far harder to restore.
And control without consent is not victory
Let us speak plainly.
No amount of administrative maneuvering can substitute for democratic legitimacy. The People’s Progressive Party/Civic may assume control of streets, expand its administrative reach, and reshape the operational map of Georgetown—but it cannot rewrite the political reality that has defined the city for decades.
The PPP has never won Georgetown in a fully contested local government election.
That is not opinion. That is record.
And it matters.
Because political power, in any democracy worthy of the name, is not secured through the gradual absorption of authority. It is earned—openly, competitively, and decisively—at the ballot box.
What is unfolding now risks creating a distinction the public will not ignore: control without consent.
Yes, roads may be paved. Yes, projects may be completed. Yes, visibility may increase. But none of these amount to validation. None of these confer the moral or political authority that only the electorate can grant.
If anything, they sharpen the contrast.
Because when a government exercises power in spaces it has historically failed to win, without first returning to the people for a mandate, the question is unavoidable: is this governance—or is this substitution?
The answer will not be found in infrastructure.
It will be found in whether the administration is willing to subject its ambitions in Georgetown to the only test that truly matters—free, fair, and fully contested elections.
Until then, whatever control is gained will remain exactly that: control.
Not legitimacy. Not endorsement. And certainly not victory.