OCTOBER 5 is a special day for this country and extra special in the calendar of the PPP and will be forever etched into our history. During September, President Ali announced the launch of the National Development Bank (NDB). As he made the announcement, his pensive demeanor was transformed into one of joyous effervescence, and his smile was larger than the Atlantic: “I don’t want to steal the finance minister’s thunder, but the bank will be launched on a special day in October.” Those of us with knowledge of Guyana’s electoral past, instinctively knew that the date could only mean October 5.
The president could not contain himself, he just blurted out the date even though he just, less than 60 seconds prior, promised to let the Minister of Finance make the announcement. The source of his exuberance and emotional dysregulation came from a deep visceral emotive mental state that is locked into October 5 being the PPP’s happy place. The president is no doubt proud of the realisation of another campaign promise and the unfurling of a catalytic government initiative, but I believe that the date (October 5) evokes greater emotions than any of his long list of accomplishments; it is the date that made it all possible.
The activists who stood with Dr Jagan and endured a quarter century of rigged elections, tasted a level of euphoric freedom that penetrated their psychological existence. A spirit of triumphalism defined the hundreds of thousands of Guyanese who were systematically disenfranchised; hundreds of activists and volunteers sacrificed to see that day when every vote was placed in the correct party column. Many of them who contributed to the struggle died before October 5, 1992. The triumph of their struggles lives on in the hearts of their children and proteges.
This day was significant and penetrating to the psyche of the PPP leadership, so much so, it was imbued into successive generations of leaders, almost without dilution. We saw pure joy on the face of Dr Ali, a joy uncorrupted and undiluted by time.
1992 is 34 years ago, factoring in their emotional state, I would assume that children had to be at least 10 years old to be situationally aware of the significance of October 5. That is to say, anyone under 45 years old would likely have an underappreciation for the full significance of this date. This represents approximately 70 per cent of today’s population. The significance of this date goes back even further. Prior to 1992, the last rigged elections in Guyana were 1985. This was 41 years ago. Again, employing the logic that those under ten were not situationally aware of the consequences and effects of rigged elections, would mean that anyone under age 52 is not likely to have any personal recollective knowledge of rigged elections, and thus, may also be underappreciative of the significance of October 5. For President Ali, being only 46 years old, to manifest such deep psychic expression over this date, is by itself a testimony of the strength of PPP lore, indubitably the most enduring of any political party to grace the Commonwealth Caribbean.
This brings into focus attempts to rig the 2020 elections. I start with my own disposition during those infamous five months. Though I was aware of the triumphal labels attached to October 5, 1992, I don’t think I had sufficient value laden conceptualisation to hark back to. My state of apprehension was one of nonchalance: essentially “grabbing victory from the jaws of defeat,” albeit manufactured defeat. I had no real-life frame of reference for the weight of the consequences. I remember that moments after the first declaration was made and Ashmin’s Building erupted in confusion, a few of us were told to go down there “to guard our victory.” As I was walking into the building, VP Jagdeo was also entering. The media mugged him for a comment. Being an arm’s length away from him, I paused to listen. I heard him say that there is an active conspiracy to falsify results in favour of APNU+AFC but the SoPs in PPP’s possession showed the PPP has won definitively.
I had no real knowledge of what was unfolding in the building, but I was amused by Jagdeo’s firm declarative opinion. My reason for hurrying down to Ashmin’s was based on direct information that the PPP was “trying to rig the election.” So, on hearing his words, I thought “this man got some gall.”
Despite the fact that I was armed with a deep subconscious one-track mind which blocked out alternative views of any shade; my natural tendency to independence reared its head (closer to the start of the recount). I openly questioned my political superiors during a meeting at Congress Place for “senior” campaign operatives. My question was simple, if we believe in our numbers and we are already in government, why even entertain thoughts of a recount? Part of the answer was that there is provable intelligence that the PPP did some “jiggery puggery” in Regions Three and Five to the tune of thousands of votes. The recount was supposed to be a way of exposing them. Any perceived shortfall in Region Four, claimed by the PPP, would be easily overcome to put “our victory” beyond doubt. The recount came; I was happy to go to the ACCC to “expose the PPP.” When my team wanted a strong voice to challenge the minutest of actions by anyone not connected to the APNU+AFC, I was there in all my vociferous glory.
Even though I fancy myself as a good enough political analyst and a thoughtful operator, I was overcome by political groupthink. Cognitive dissonance did not set in until the day of the final returns of Region Three. With my own eyes; I saw every vote counted; I saw my team members expressed dissatisfaction with aspects of the count, in some boxes; I saw GECOM staff acquiesce and restarting the count laboriously from zero just to satisfy trivial objections. Instead of an anticipated massive exposure of PPP’s big rigging, the outcome turned out to be an exact reflection of the PPP SoPs that were publicly available online. I became pensive.
For the first time I felt in my soul that we did not win. My entire raison detre at the recount centre had eviscerated. The day was merely half done; the front door of the Arthur Chung Conference Centre was in my direct line of sight [and] it beckoned loudly. The hustle and bustle of the recount centre faded into the background; in my head there was eerie silence. Then I snapped out of it. Without notifying my team, I headed for the door knowing I will not return.
On my way out, I met Sase Gunraj. Though we were in different camps, I expressed my frustration to him; he offered words of consolation. I left the ACCC and never returned. I went straight to my car, drove straight home and for the rest of the day and night, I ignored all phone calls and messages. After agonising over my decision for some time, I drifted into sleep for the rest of the day into night. The next morning, I returned a text to Amna Ally, who was coordinating recount personnel, indicating I will not return. I was replaced by Jermaine Figueira as a team supervisor.
When October 5 comes around, I will, for the rest of my life, reflect on how my participation in the attempted manipulation of the results of the 2020 elections could have foiled the significance of October 5, and returned the country to ground zero.