Why prisoners in Guyana shouldn’t vote

Jun 09, 2025 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

Peeping Tom…

Kaieteur News – Now, I know some of you, my readers, may be thinking: “What kind of monster denies a poor incarcerated soul the right to elect the very leaders who are responsible for his incarceration?” Well, sit tight, dear reader, because this is a story of a peculiar contradiction: how can someone be declared unfit to be present in society, yet simultaneously fit to help decide its future?

Let’s begin with the law. Yes, that stubborn set of rules we like to quote from when it suits us and conveniently ignore when it doesn’t. The Constitution of Guyana (a bedtime read I recommend if you’re suffering from insomnia) outlines several rights that citizens enjoy: freedom of movement, freedom of expression and the right to participate in decision-making processes of the State. But here’s the kicker: these are not absolute. The Constitution itself says so.

Article 40 talks about fundamental rights and freedoms being subject to such limitations… designed to ensure that the enjoyment of the said rights… does not prejudice the rights and freedoms of others or the public interest. Translation? Your rights are like your granny’s sponge cake—nice, but not always available.

When someone is convicted and sentenced, they don’t just lose their liberty—they lose the right to move, to assemble, to protest, and (here it comes) arguably the right to vote. Incarceration is society’s polite way of saying: “You’ve made decisions that put you outside the moral consensus. We’ll be handling things for a while.”

The voting booth is a sacred place. It is not a vending machine for second chances. It is the collective mind of a nation deciding what kind of mess it wants for the next five years. And frankly, if someone couldn’t be trusted with a bottle of El Dorado and a cutlass and knife, I’d prefer they not weigh in on fiscal policy.

Now some moralists will insist that prisoners are still human beings. No argument there. But so is my pet parrot, and he too is barred from voting—not because he’s unintelligent (he can mimic three politicians and a drunk uncle), but because he cannot fully understand or abide by the responsibilities of civic engagement.

Voting is not just a right. It’s a privilege that flows from one’s capacity to exercise responsible citizenship. That’s why toddlers and people with severe cognitive impairments don’t vote. It’s not discrimination—it’s democracy with seatbelts. The notion that prisoners should vote is often peddled under the banner of rehabilitation. But rehabilitation begins with accountability. You don’t ask someone to help choose the village chief while he’s still serving time for burning down the last one’s hut.

And let’s not ignore the optics. Could you imagine a political campaign trail that includes mandatory stops at the Mazaruni prison? “Vote for me and get double mattress time and better cable TV.” Before long, we’ll have special manifestos: “Free Plantain Fridays for Block C!” “Voting rights for parole officers!” “An MP for Every Felon!”

If prisoners are granted the right to vote, then by logical extension they must also possess the right to be informed and to engage meaningfully in the electoral process, which includes the ability to be canvassed by candidates and to participate in political campaigning. However, prison regulations typically prohibit such activities on security and administrative grounds, creating an inherent contradiction. You cannot claim to uphold democratic rights while denying the very mechanisms—free information exchange and political engagement—that make those rights substantive. Voting without access to campaigning is not democratic participation; it is tokenism. If we’re being honest, voting while imprisoned isn’t about civil rights. In a system where every vote counts, political parties know that a captive audience—literally—could sway a close election. Imagine a world where political parties start hosting voter registration drives in prisons before they visit indigenous villages. Madness!

Allowing individuals who are incarcerated—having demonstrably broken the law—to participate in shaping the very laws they violated undermines the integrity of the legal system. It is both illogical and counterproductive to empower those who have shown a clear disregard for the rule of law to influence its formation or enforcement. Disenfranchisement during imprisonment reinforces the principle that full participation in the democratic process is inseparable from a commitment to lawful conduct.

So yes, dear citizens of Guyana, let us uphold the principle that incarceration is more than just spatial relocation. It’s a declaration that—for a defined period—your ability to participate in civic life is paused. When your time is served, when you’ve repaid your debt, and when you can once again walk the seawalls without supervision or handcuffs—then, and only then, should you rejoin the civic feast and taste the sweet, occasionally sour, fruit of the ballot. Until then, let’s be honest: if your biggest decision today is whether to trade your boiled egg for two biscuits, perhaps your input on trade policy can wait.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

Constitution of Guyana, Guyana Elections 2025, Guyana Voters, Peeping Tom, Prisoners Vote, Voter Rights

1 thoughts on “Why prisoners in Guyana shouldn’t vote”

habeeb June 9, 2025 at 11:24 am

With the 3 Amigos who represent the opposition party at GECOM, habitually
turning up at meetings, then take a hike, because they want prisoners to
vote at the next election- my answer- not possible, not allowed, against them
killers, robbers, murderers etc. to vote NOW whilst they are in jail.
They can look on, read about it whilst INSIDE, LOOKING OUT.
There were jumbies, Russians, voting at the last election.

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