Dear Editor,
It has been almost an entire week since the UK went to the polls to elect a new prime minister.
Polls opened at 7 am on Thursday, July 4th and closed at 10 that night.
A resident of England, I voted in the election.
When I arrived at the polling station, I did pretty much all that I would have if I were voting home in Guyana. I presented my poll card, Biometric Residency Permit (commonly referred to as BRP as my form of ID); verified my name, address and postcode to the poll clerk and was handed my ballot paper.
I then privately cast my ballot and was out of the station. No indelible ink is used as a means of proving that one had voted.
Having participated in the process, I naturally followed the news after to learn the outcome, but not with any particular fervour as I would have back home. But without realising it, I was ready for drama—of some sort—any sort.
Afterall, it was a general election. That is major and would result in drama. I mean it has to, right? Well, at 39 years old, it is the reality I am used to. So how could I be disappointed? And so, I waited.
At 20 minutes after the close of polls that night, however, I would live a reality that was very alien to me.
Editor, the swift declaration of election results from other democracies around the world is of course not new to me. But understand that when a Guyanese living abroad participates in the process, it really has a different effect of you because subconsciously we normalise the abuse of waiting with which we sadly have become all too familiar at home.
I describe it a form of abuse—psychological abuse—and would stand by that description, because that is exactly what is. But I know that my description may not be accepted by many, simply because a qualified psychiatrist has probably never diagnosed it as such and I am quite fine with that.
But if we are true to ourselves and reflect on the quandary in which the wait for election results home places us, it can be nothing short of at least psychological abuse.
Anyway, as I was saying, at 10:20 pm (and that is when I checked my BBC app) the exit polls had already projected that Labour had won, decisively. Or as we like to say in election language, by a landslide.
That was just the exit polls, but that was credible. All the while, this Guyanese was still waiting for drama. But there was none. At the time of penning this letter there was still none, and after almost a week (in which I subconsciously still waited for some drama) I now reckon that there absolutely will be none.
And so yes. I had to be disappointed. I was destined for it actually, because as I have seen first-hand, that is just not the way the people conduct their elections in this part of the world. Oh no.
By the start of the work day the following day, Sir Keir Starmer had already taken office as Britain’s new PM and his predecessor Rishi Sunak was out. Isn’t this how a democracy is supposed to work?
As a young Guyanese, all too familiar with our electoral process back home, I was completely floored with the manner in which the entire process was executed across the UK. Floored for all the wrong reasons that is. I just could not believe that I was witnessing all that efficiency first hand. And so yes, I was floored.
And after participating in the elections, three words in particular keep resounding in my head; “smooth,” “swift” and “transparent.”
Yes, that was the manner in which the UK polls were conducted.
Editor, I am not here to bash the land of my birth. That is farthest from my intentions. But how can one objectively offer any analysis at the way elections are conducted in Guyana and not conclude that ours lack those three qualities—whether all at the same time—or at least one at some time or the other.
As a journalist back home familiar with various aspects of election coverage, I must say that news editors and reporters in Guyana would welcome an efficient system. I know that for sure. Reporters would be clear on what their story is and editors would be sure of their headlines going to the press. Papers would be printed at a godly hour and ready for circulation the next day.
More importantly the electorate would be delivered the certainty they deserve.
I am not saying that counties such as the UK are utopias. I am sure that there are inefficiencies I am not aware of.
But let’s be honest, Guyana can take a page out of their book. In fact, take the entire book about how to conduct an election. And by Guyana I specifically mean GECOM and politicians on both sides of the major political divide.
They are the target audience who ought to read such a book to try to grasp all there is to learn about how not to conduct an election.
I’m going to say it, because it has to be said. Again.
It is shameful the way our elections are conducted home. It leaves much to be desired. We have been consistently doing it wrong, especially in 2020. That was an epic failure. And as google in part defines this term—a spectacular embarrassing or humiliating situation. And as far as I’m concerned, that is putting it lightly.
The difference in voting culture is so distinct. The day after the UK went to the polls, and every day since, has been routine and for me almost eerily quiet, leaving me in a state of not only disbelief, but almost denial that I even participated in the process.
There was no disruption to the day, no holiday given, no barring up of stores in preparation for a volatile situation. The Brits have moved on with their lives. Well, their lives never paused.
Guyanese live a sort of trauma every election time, and we have sadly normalised that dysfunction. I hope that with time I’m able to overcome that Guyanese normalised trauma of voting. A form of PTSD unique to Guyana.
It is our leaders who are solely responsible for the abuse we suffer. Better must be demanded from them.
We have a perfect electoral system in Guyana, just the way the UK have it set up. Ours can work the same way. We have less than a million votes to count. The problem behind our system are the people. The powers that be. They are the problem.
We are too polarised. Guyana has a long, long way to go, but I pray that we get there one day. Very soon. 2025 is our next opportunity.
Sincerely,
Femi Harris-Smith
