Cheddi Jagan and the Politics of Power: British Guiana's Struggle for Independence

By Colin A. Palmer

Colin Palmer, one of the foremost chroniclers of twentieth-century British and U.S. imperialism in the Caribbean, here tells the story of British Guiana's struggle for independence. At the center of the story is Cheddi Jagan, who was the colony's first premier following the institution of universal adult suffrage in 1953.

Informed by the first use of many British, U.S., and Guyanese archival sources, Palmer's work details Jagan's rise and fall, from his initial electoral victory in the spring of 1953 to the aftermath of the British-orchestrated coup d'etat that led to the suspension of the constitution and the removal of Jagan's independence-minded administration. Jagan's political odyssey continued--he was reelected to the premiership in 1957--but in 1964 he fell out of power again under pressure from Guianese, British, and U.S. officials suspicious of Marxist influences on the People's Progressive Party, founded in 1950 by Jagan and his activist wife, Janet Rosenberg. But Jagan's political life was not over--after decades in the opposition, he became Guyana's president in 1992.

Subtly analyzing the actual role of Marxism in Caribbean anticolonial struggles and bringing the larger story of Caribbean colonialism into view, Palmer examines the often malevolent roles played by leaders at home and abroad and shows how violence, police corruption, political chicanery, racial politics, and poor leadership delayed Guyana's independence until 1966, scarring the body politic in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
• Release date: Nov 2, 2010
• ISBN: 9780807899618

Colin A. Palmer

Colin A. Palmer was a leading historian of the Caribbean and the African diaspora. He chronicles the history of the Caribbean in the wake of British and U.S. imperialism in the trilogy comprised of Freedom's Children, Cheddi Jagan and the Politics of Power, and Eric Williams and the Making of the Modern Caribbean.

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Cheddi Jagan and the Politics of Power

Cheddi Jagan and the Politics of Power

British Guiana's Struggle for Independence

Colin A. Palmer

The University of North Carolina Press Chapel Hill

This book was published with the assistance of the H. Eugene and Lillian Youngs Lehman Fund of the University of North Carolina Press. A complete list of books published in the Lehman Series appears at the end of the book.

© 2010 THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA PRESS

All rights reserved. Set in Merlo and Myriad Pro types by Tseng Information Systems, Inc. Manufactured in the United States of America. The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources. The University of North Carolina Press has been a member of the Green Press Initiative since 2003.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Palmer, Colin A., 1944-

Cheddi Jagan and the politics of power: British Guiana's struggle for independence /

Colin A. Palmer.

p. cm. — (H. Eugene and Lillian Youngs Lehman series)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-8078-3416-9 (cloth: alk. paper)

1. Guyana—History—1803-1966. 2. Guyana—Politics and government—1803-1966.3. Great

Britain—Colonies—America—History. 4, Jagan, Cheddi. I. Title.

F2384.P35 2010

988.1-dc22

2010018132

14 13 12 11 10 5 4 3 2 1

(Contents)

Acknowledgments

Introduction

(1) The Imperial Coup d'Etat

(2) Containing Cheddi and Scapegoating Savage

(3) Taking Stock

(4) Imagining and Constructing a New Guiana

(5) Searching for Cheddi and the PPP

(6) The Politics and Trauma of Race

(7) The Politics of Power

(8) Fairbain Redux

Conclusion

Epilogue

(Appendix 1) Memorandum Issued by the Advisory Committee Appointed by the Governor under the Emergency Order, 1953

(Appendix 2) Allegations against Sydney King and His Response

Notes

Bibliography

Index

(Tables, Illustrations, and Map)

Tables

(1) Deposits and Withdrawals from the Government's Savings Bank, August 19-September 30, 1953 33

(2) Estimated Cost of Breakfast [Lunch] for a Family of Five, 1935-1936 and 1948 109

(3) Estimated Cost of Dinner [Supper] for a Family of Five, 1935-1936 and 1948 109

(4) Estimated Cost of Tea [Breakfast] for a Family of Five, 1933-1938 and 1953-1954 110

(5) Estimated Cost of Breakfast [Lunch] for a Family of Five, 1933-1938 and 1953-1954 110

(6) Estimated Cost of Dinner [Supper] for a Family of Five, 1933-1938 and 1953-1954 111

(7) Illiteracy Rates by Race, ca.1946 126

(8) Illiteracy Rates by Age Group, ca. 1946 127

(9) Illiteracy Rates by Geographic District, ca. 1946 127

(10) Voters by Constituency, 1957 152

(11) Sugar Estate Lands in British Guiana, ca. 1951 162

(12) Trends in Population Growth by Race, 1936-1960 238

(13) Racial Distribution of the Guianese Population, December 1964 239

(14) Results of the December 1964 Elections by Party 239

Illustrations

Ministers of the 1953 Jagan administration 20

Jagan and his supporters at a post-coup d'état rally, Georgetown, October 11, 1953 52

Jagan addressing a preelection PPP rally, Georgetown, 1964 287

Map

British Guiana in the 1950s 2

(Acknowledgments)

I owe a debt of gratitude to the staffs of the various archives who aided me in my research. They include the fine public servants at the Public Record Office, London; the National Archives at College Park, Maryland; the Walter Rodney National Archives in Georgetown, Guyana; and the Cheddi Jagan Research Centre, also in Georgetown. My good friends and colleagues, Franklin W. Knight, Bridget Brereton, and Nicole Burrowes-Casserly read the entire manuscript and provided me with invaluable criticism. This is a much better book because of their careful reading and their thoughtful, candid evaluation. I thank them most heartily and sincerely. Allison Palmer deserves a special commendation. She deciphered my handwriting, typed several drafts of the manuscript, and took a special interest in it as it evolved into a book. I remain in her debt.

Cheddi Jagan and the Politics of Power

British Guiana in the 1950s

(Introduction)

I does watchman at Clarke and Merton by night and I does get a small piece. Thus began the statement that the frightened young man gave to the police in Georgetown on the afternoon of August 9, 1964. Emanuel Fairbain, alias Batson, had been picked up by members of the Crime Squad allegedly for bombing Freedom House, the headquarters of the People's Progressive Party (PPP), on July 31. Of African descent, Fairbain was thirty-one years old and supported the opposition party, the People's National Congress (PNC). His arrest and mistreatment in jail and subsequent events revealed the cancer that had been affecting British Guiana's body politic for the past decade. British Guiana's politicians and residents took sides in ugly disputes that were as much manifestations of the corrosive effects of colonialism on a society and its people as they were the consequences of mediocre leadership, politically inspired racial animus, and the machinations of outside interests.

Fairbain was alone in his room at the Elizabeth guesthouse when about eight policemen dressed in plain clothes burst in at about 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning. As he would later confess to a Court of Inquiry, Fairbain had been up drinking and dancing with friends until about midnight. Thereafter, he partied with a girl in his room, but the night of revelry ended on a bitter note as myself and the girl had a quarrel and I gave her a couple of cuffs because when I was upstairs she took more money than she supposed to have. I gave her $4.00 and I had $7.00 on the table and she take that too.

Fairbain had just returned from escorting his guest downstairs when the policemen invaded his room. Obviously on a serious mission, they began to search his belongings. One of them, a man he later identified as Clarke, looked under his bed and discovered a rice bag. Oh God, he got um yah, Clarke announced and asked Fairbain for his gun since the bag contained ammunition. Fairbain denied that he had a gun; then, All the eight men started beating me all over the body with their fists. I shouted 'Oh God, don't beat me.' They beat me in the guts and head.

Fairbain reported that the policemen took him in a van to Brickdam, the local jail, and put him in an empty room on the ground floor. There was no light inside, he recalled; they start beating me again and some more come in. The officers started kicking me up. They tied my balls with cord and pulled it tight. I then found myself on the ground on the concrete and wet. They had stripped me as I went in. I fainted away when they pulled the cord tight. I started to cry. . . . They actually raised me off the ground with the cord. The victim said he recognized Officers Hintzen, Powers, and Lambert. When Fairbain declined to cooperate with the officers or talk upon myself, Officer Lambert left the room, only to return and proclaim, Alright he can talk now—he playing harden. Then, according to Fairbain, Lambert let go a tear gas shell in the room. They all run out and left me in. I begged them to come and give me water. Nobody came. Some time after the same Lambert came back again and asked me if I am ready to give him a statement. I said, 'Officer me ain't know nothing.'

Trying a different tactic, Inspector Grimmond sat on a bench beside Fairbain, telling him: Boy you best you tell me all you got to tell me because me sorry for you. Them will beat you bad in this place. Reentering the room, Lambert advised Fairbain to go there to the pipe and wet your balls there. Fairbain said that the sink in the room was a bit high for me and:

My balls were swollen up but even on my toes I would only just meet up to the sink and I tried to put water on myself and then a dark skinned Indian chap named Kandasammy kicked me on my side and then Mr. Lambert said bring him out here. I was trembling with the pain from my balls. Lambert said I will make you talk now.

He then fixed something, told them to hold my hands which they did and I begged him oh officer, oh officer. He said You will get to know me. I'm a very quiet chap but I'm very hard, and then he discharged a tear gas on my balls. I fall down but they pull me back up and propped me up because I can't stand up. Then they clap me on both ears the same time then when I catch my breath I start to holler.

The abuse continued. When Officer Lambert believed the torture had the desired effect, he asked the detainee, Are you ready to tell me what you have to tell me now? The interrogator listed a number of bombings that had occurred in Georgetown, accusing Fairbain of knowing about them. Me ain't know nothing about them thing da, he responded. You ain't talk, you going dead here today, Lambert threatened. When I done with you, you ain't good for yourself, he warned. Eventually Fairbain broke under the physical abuse and interrogation, assuring the officers, If you all write anything I'm going to sign it. As he gave his statement, the Indian Inspector was doing the writing and he write quick and again I was saying what to put down. Fairbain signed the statement but I was in too much pain to read it. Thereafter, the physical abuse ceased but the interrogation continued. Four days later, Fairbain was hospitalized for his injuries.¹

The Fairbain case became a cause célèbre, capturing the attention of the public, the governor, the premier and his Council of Ministers, the secretary of state for the colonies, and the American consul general. It laid bare the serious disabilities of the law enforcement system, the central role that violence was playing in the polity, and the crippling burden of the racial politics that had come to define the society. In short, Fairbain became the metaphorical representation of a bleeding Guiana. A descendant of enslaved Africans, his story could have been replicated in any of the Anglophone Caribbean societies. An urban resident, functionally literate, Fairbain existed just outside the margins of destitution in an environment where violence was systemic, where the day-to-day challenges of life were debilitating, and where a better future for people like him seemed an illusory promise. A prolonged colonial experience had ratified social inequity, devaluing the many and privileging the few. A victim as well as a survivor, Fairbain was, however, not a candidate for sainthood.

The Guianese society that had produced Fairbain bore the scars of its history, and the tragedy of his life was their cruel incarnation. When it inaugurated its new constitution in April 1953, British Guiana celebrated the promise of a new beginning. But the exhilaration was temporary as the colony's past was circumscribing its present, and its new leaders were actively stirring the cauldrons of disunity and violence, churning promise into despair. Fairbain was an antihero; his story, with all of its forbidding rawness, was also that of his country, reflecting all too well the consequences of the thwarted promise of 1953. Although Emanuel Fairbain opens and closes this book, he is not its subject, however. He remains the symbol of a larger tragedy—that of a society whose travail was the product of a particular history, unkind in its genesis and its passages, made worse by the manipulative excesses of mediocre leadership and the triumph of interested prejudice over principle.

SITUATED ON THE northeastern coast of South America between the contemporary nations of Suriname and Venezuela, Guyana is approximately 83,000 square miles in area. Previously the largest of the British colonies in the Caribbean, its size is roughly equivalent to that of England, Scotland, and Wales combined. The country is distinguished by the optically pleasing variation in its topography. In addition to a coastal belt with its trade winds and agreeable temperature of ninety degrees or less, it boasts a forest zone and a savannah. Most of the inhabitants reside on the narrow coastal belt, lying between the Corentyne River in the east and the Pomeroon River in the west. It is the economic heart of the country, the locus of its agricultural base and principal industries. But it is a zone that rests below sea level and is subject to the unruly floods caused by a frequently angry ocean. To contain this hostile natural phenomenon, successive governments have constructed extensive networks of seawalls, dikes, and drainage systems.

Guyana is a land of spectacular beauty. Adjacent to the coastal belt is a series of dense forests, comprising most of the country's area. Farther to the west, the Pakaraima mountain range dominates a rugged terrain, the culmination of which is the majestic Mount Roraima which ascends to 9,094 feet. The savannah grassland area is divided into the Rupununi, located in the southwest and adjacent to Brazil. The Intermediate Savannah occupies a strip behind the northwestern coast between the Demerara and Corentyne rivers. It is a land of magnificent waterfalls, with the awesome Kaieteur Fall dropping a breathtaking 741 feet. The country's unsurpassed physical beauty, however, masks its enormous communication difficulties. The interior, for the most part, is accessible only by air.

Guyana's people are as ethnically diverse as the terrain they inhabit. In 1961, for example, its population was 575,270. Of that number, Indians comprised 279,460 and Africans 190,380. Racially mixed groups accounted for 66,180; Amerindians, 22,860; Chinese, 3,550; people of Portuguese descent, 7,610; and other Europeans, 3,550.

When Christopher Columbus traversed the Guiana coastline in 1498, the picturesque land did not immediately capture the imagination of European explorers. A sustained interest developed only when Sir Walter Raleigh, another celebrated explorer, sought to establish an English colony between the Orinoco and Amazon rivers. Intrigued by the legend of El Dorado and its fabled wealth, he undertook a spirited quest to locate it. To advance his search, Raleigh sailed some four hundred miles up the Orinoco in 1595, a reconnaissance mission that led him to write his classic Discoverie of the Large[,] Rich and Beautiful Empire of Guiana, a book that generated much popular interest in Europe.

Raleigh did not receive official support from the English for his colonial scheme. The French and the Dutch were not so restrained, and their citizens proceeded to establish settlements in the area before 1620. The Dutch seemed to be the more aggressive of the two, creating a foothold at the Cayenne River in 1614 and a second at Fort Nassau in Berbice, and a third in Essequibo a few years later. This was a continuation of a practice initiated by the Spaniards and the Portuguese whereby the Europeans merely took possession of land to which they had no just entitlement. In 1746 the British settled in Demerara, which would later join Berbice and Essequibo as separate colonies. These three possessions became the foundation of an expanding plantation system, based primarily on the cultivation of sugarcane with the labor of enslaved Africans.

Despite their distance from Europe, these colonies were never immune to the conflicts on that continent and the shifting balance of power. In 1814 the Dutch ceded its Guiana colonies to the British and in 1831 Essequibo, Demerara, and Berbice were united, obtaining the nomenclature of British Guiana. Two years later the British Parliament passed an act liberating the enslaved Africans, but this did not take full effect until 1838. The ensuing labor shortage on the sugar plantations led to a short-lived scheme to encourage Portuguese immigrants from Madeira. Far more successful and long lived was the importation of Indians from South Asia as indentured workers. Between 1838 and 1917 about 240,000 Indians immigrated to the colony.

British Guiana was the prototype of a colony of exploitation. A tiny white minority governed the growing Indian, African, and Amerindian populations in its own interest. In 1847, for example, only 561 persons were eligible to vote in any elections to the representative bodies the British inherited from the Dutch. Recognizing the oligarchic nature of its administration in a changing colonial environment, the British government introduced some reforms in 1891, expanding the franchise but also simultaneously increasing the power of the British-appointed governor. In 1928 the Crown instituted a new constitution that once again expanded the franchise but retained property and literacy qualifications. It provided for the election of fourteen members to a Legislative Council of twenty-nine and an Executive Committee named by the governor, who could use his reserve power to veto any legislation he did not support.

The 1928 constitution was not a significant step in the direction of representative government. Its restrictive franchise, the dominance of nominated members in the Legislative Council and on the Executive Committee, and the governor's possession of the reserve power meant that effective power rested with the Crown and its vassals, local or foreign. The social conditions in British Guiana and elsewhere in the Anglo-Caribbean colonies were rapidly changing, however, and a nascent nationalism was evident. Several colonies, such as Jamaica and Trinidad, were the sites of social unrest in the 1930s. These protests forced the colonial authorities to introduce a series of constitutional reforms that were intended to place some colonies on the path to self-government.

Recognizing that the 1928 constitution was anachronistic, the British government appointed a commission in 1950 to review the franchise, the composition of the Legislature and the Executive Council, and any other related matters, in the light of the economic and political development of the Colony, and to make recommendations. Its chairman was Sir E. J. Waddington, a prominent colonial administrator and former governor of Barbados. The commission was greeted with considerable enthusiasm, and many people testified before it or submitted memoranda. This demonstration of interest enabled the commission to conclude that it was able to become acquainted with all representative shades of opinion.

The Waddington Commission recommended significant changes in the colony's constitution. The new document provided for universal adult suffrage and the establishment of a bicameral legislature. The lower chamber, known as the House of Assembly, would consist of twenty-seven members, twenty-four of whom were to be elected and the remaining three ex officio members, namely the officials who served as the chief secretary, the financial secretary, and the attorney general. The upper chamber—the State Council—would be comprised of nine members appointed by the governor, six at his discretion, two on the recommendation of the six ministers elected from the House of Assembly, and one recommended by the opposition members of that body. There was also to be an Executive Council composed of ten members: six ministers chosen by the House of Assembly, the three ex officio members of that body, and a minister without portfolio selected by the State Council. The governor served as president of the Executive Council with a casting vote. He retained extensive reserve powers that he could exercise in the interest of public order, public faith or good government. The constitution gave the State Council the power to delay money bills emanating from the House of Assembly for three months and all other bills for one year.

Introducing the ministerial system, the constitution gave the elected representatives of the people some semblance of power. The six elected ministers were in charge of the various government departments and the subjects that fell under their respective portfolios. But as a check on their authority, the governor could use his reserve powers to kill any legislative measure with which he disapproved. Notwithstanding such limitations, the prospect of elections under universal adult suffrage energized the populace, their would-be leaders, and the newly formed political parties.²

Founded in 1950, the People's Progressive Party was the first modern political party to emerge in the colony. It was the child of an earlier organization, the Political Affairs Committee, that had been created in 1946 by a young, charismatic dentist of Indian ancestry. Of relatively humble origins, Cheddi Jagan attended universities in the United States where he met and married Janet Rosenberg, a Jewish American. Politically conscious and energetic, the couple began to play an active role in the political life of Guiana when Cheddi returned home in 1943. Along with others, they founded the PPP seven years later, with Cheddi as the leader and Mrs. Jagan as the general secretary and editor of Thunder, the party's organ. The fledgling organization solidified its support when it attracted Linden Forbes Burnham, a brilliant young African barrister, to its ranks. His election as chairman of the party effected a political and symbolic marriage between the Indians and the Africans, the two largest ethnic groups in the society.³

The implementation of the new constitution in 1953 inaugurated a turbulent period in British Guiana's history. This was a giddy moment filled with the exciting promise of change, emanating not from above but from the folks below. The heady exuberance of the moment was succeeded in short measure by turmoil, dashed hopes, and the paralysis of a divided polity. This book is about the ascendancy to office of the new leaders in the spring of 1953, their removal by means of an imperial coup d'état 133 days later, and the colony's subsequent crisis of spirit. It is an examination of the ways in which the colonial regime joined hands with the United States and local elites to destroy a political leader whom they distrusted and feared, further maiming the body politic. But the book also has another emphasis. It addresses the social, racial, and economic roots of the political culture and behavior in Guiana.

Cheddi Jagan stands at the center of the book's story. Resolutely committed to British Guiana's interests as he saw them, Jagan never wavered from his objectives despite the withering criticisms of his opponents at home and the ignoble machinations of the Americans and the British. Beginning with Jagan's first electoral victory in 1953, this book traces his political odyssey to 1964, when he succumbed to the combined power of his domestic and foreign opponents.

This book is based almost entirely on the extensive manuscript sources located in the Public Record Office in London; the National Archives in College Park, Maryland; and the Cheddi Jagan Research Centre and the Walter Rodney National Archives, both located in Georgetown, Guyana. In an attempt to privilege the voices of the principal actors in the story that I recount, I quote them extensively in the narrative. It is organized both themati-cally and chronologically, as each chapter is devoted to the discussion of an important issue in the colony's history between 1953 and 1964. The chapters, particularly those in the second half of the book, begin with a brief review of the context within which its theme is situated. This approach is intended to facilitate the reader's comprehension of the chapter's focus and as a reminder of the previous issues discussed.

The book is divided into eight chapters. Chapter 1 describes the election of the PPP to office in 1953, its brief tenure and swift denouement. Chapter 2 focuses on the colonial regime's failed attempts to contain Dr. Jagan, destroy the PPP, and find a scapegoat for the misjudgments associated with the coup that removed the Jagan government from office. Chapter 3 elucidates how the Guianese people struggled to understand themselves in the aftermath of the trauma of 1953. Chapter 4 considers the new Guiana they imagined and Jagan's return to the seat of government, albeit with reduced executive power.

The second half of this book explores the colony's painful divisions as it struggled to define its future. Chapter 5 excavates Cheddi Jagan's ideological journeys and their impact on the new society he wanted to call into being. The emergence of a cancerous racial politics is the emphasis of Chapter 6. Chapter 7 captures the agony of a society as it writhes in pain from the blows administered by its leaders and external interests. It chronicles Jagan's fate as the Americans and the British, in alliance with some local elites, delivered their coup de grâce. The final chapter returns to the case of Emanuel Fairbain. His tragic story encapsulates all that had gone wrong since 1953 and the perverted promise of a new beginning in British Guiana.

THROUGHOUT THIS BOOK, I use the nomenclatures Indian and Indo-Guianese interchangeably. Similarly, African and African Guianese refer to the peoples of African descent. I also refer to the colony as British Guiana or Guiana until it received its independence in 1966, when it adopted Guyana as its new name. Although I am aware many scholars maintain that race is a social construct and lacks a biological basis, I use the term throughout the manuscript in the way it would have been understood in the 1950s and 1960s.

There are no heroes in this story, with the possible exception of the Guianese people who were exhilarated by the tantalizing promise of 1953 and who emerged from the trauma of the succeeding decade bruised but not vanquished. It is, for the most part, a dismal chronicle of a people on the verge of social death, and, like the Fairbain atrocity, it is a tale of punishments endured, blood spilled, and the fracturing of a colony's soul. In many respects, it is also a study of a country's unrealized promise, the perils of mediocre political leadership, and the diabolical policies of powerful outsiders acting in their own interest with the willing compliance of local enablers. The resulting tragedy was a British Guianese one. But it was, in a wider sense, a colonial tragedy too.

(1) The Imperial Coup d'Etat

There was the eerie suspicion, even a perverse expectation, that something unusual was in the air, but the day itself was ordinary, warm, and sunny. Georgetown was rife with rumors but no one knew how the day would end. The ministers of government were said to be in their offices hurriedly retrieving their papers and destroying some of them. Barely 133 days in office, the young government had outraged the colonial authorities by its unapologetic pugnacity, its noisy assertion of an unrepentant socialism, and the exhibition of a brash independence, at least rhetorically. October 9, 1953, was the day when the fledgling regime would receive a harsh lesson in the exercise of the might of a colonial power. British troops disembarked the day before as a preemptive strike against an imagined resistance to the impending imperial action.

The arrival of the British troops on October 8 created a subdued excitement in the capital city as a few curious residents gathered to observe their movements and to speculate about their business in the colony. Some five hundred strong, the soldiers had left Jamaica aboard the HMSSuperb a few days earlier. There were no welcoming ceremonies for them as there was no time for such military etiquette. The Colonial Office had prepared the men to expect trouble from the Guianese people, but an uneasy calm and a sense of controlled resignation prevailed. Describing the pulse of Georgetown during those difficult days, American consul general William P. Maddox wrote:

The surface scene in Georgetown is orderly and serene. Shopping goes on as usual. The only street excitement is provided by the marching military band assisting in the change-of-guard ceremony at Government House. Hundreds of cyclists follow the band's procession with unfeigned enjoyment and admiration. At the height of the crisis, a boxing match took place, a horseracing meet was held, and a cricket contest was played with Trinidad. The only alteration of schedule noted in the paper was the postponement of bingo on October 9. Children went to school and played in the street as usual. Of passing note was the greeting of a journalist at the [Cheddi] Jagan threshold by [his] young Joe on his fourth birthday, brandishing an atomic-ray play gun!¹

Jai Narine Singh, then minister of local government and social welfare, recalled the behavior of the invading troops on the ninth. The British forces, Narine Singh said, "landed in Guyana [sic] armed to the teeth. And, with bayonets fixed on their rifles and armoured cars patrolling the streets of Georgetown, the British soldiers generated an air of hostility towards the inhabitants, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to attack anyone who dared to raise his voice in protest against the military overthrow of the popularly elected Government of the people."² The troops, Narine Singh noted, expected to be greeted by a hostile people, but they did not have to fire a single shot, when they landed armed to the teeth. According to him, the troops were amazed by the mood of the Guianese people, who appeared to be in mourning. The streets were practically deserted with hardly anyone venturing outdoors. Even the curious children were kept in doors by their parents, and guardians, so that the British military, egged on by the few conservatives in the colony, would not have an excuse to demonstrate their firepower.³

Despite their outward calm, the Guianese people were bracing themselves for a new phase in their political life after their heady experiment in limited self-government. It had begun formally in April 1953, when the colony conducted its first election with universal adult suffrage. This had been accomplished under the aegis of the new constitution recommended by the Waddington Commission. The People's Progressive Party was the best organized of the parties that contested the election. The other parties included the National Democratic Party and the Guiana National Party. Unlike the others, the National Democratic Party and the Guiana National Party, the PPP had a colonywide organization and offered an extensive program that promised progressive change. Its leading personages were its founders Cheddi and Janet Jagan, and Forbes Burnham. Although Dr. Jagan had no formally designated position in the party, he was its acknowledged leader.

Two weeks before the historic April 27 election, a new governor arrived to assume his duties in the colony. Sir Alfred Savage had been the governor of Barbados, where he had enjoyed cordial relationships with that colony's politicians, including trade unionist Grantley Adams, who later became the premier and head of government. Savage took comfort from the knowledge that Adams had warmly recommended him to his colleagues in Guiana, clearly an asset in his difficult assignment. The new governor, however, had no deep understanding of the political quagmire into which he had been thrust.

Recognizing that the old political arena was going to be transformed, the PPP undertook an aggressive colonywide election campaign. Janet Jagan proved herself to be a genius at political organizing and laid the foundation for a stunning victory. The party nominated candidates in all of the twenty-four constituencies, winning eighteen of them. Its principal opposition, the National Democratic Party, won two seats and independents triumphed in the remaining four. Dr. Jagan faced three opponents in his Port Mourant constituency but won 82 percent of the votes that were cast. Burnham received 74 percent of the votes in his Georgetown constituency. Observing the results from a distance, the American consul general, who resided in Trinidad, noted the substantial one-sidedness in favor of the PPP. He thought the party's success may be attributed in large measure to cohesive and effective party organization, against which there were aligned only splintered opponents.⁴

In its election campaign the PPP presented itself as a reformist party, one that was stridently nationalist in its ideological orientation. But in the context of the British Guiana of 1953, to espouse self-determination and independence for the colony was almost tantamount to engaging in subversive activity in the eyes of the imperial country and its local officials and allies. In its campaign literature, the party characterized the colony as merely a department, a fragment in the overall pattern of [British] domination extending through the West Indies, Africa, Malaya, etc. British Guiana, the party maintained, has no independent voice in its own affairs. Since all problems and solutions in the colony are subjected to supervision by the imperialist rulers, the problems arising in it will always be solved in a way suitable to imperialists. Understanding that political power resided in the hands of the metropolitan country, the PPP asserted that its task was to formulate a policy which can work under these conditions of dependence. Consequently, such a policy will be able to cater only for reforms, for patches on the torn and rugged fabric of colonial reality. Such obstacles notwithstanding,

the struggle for independence must not waver. All over the world the people of the colonies are fighting for independence. In Malaya, in Africa, in Indo China, the fire burns brightly. We who live in the West Indies and British Guiana must consider ourselves one unit in the international colonial liberation movement; we must fight for independence; striking blow after blow at the imperialist stronghold, weakening it and finally breaking loose from the shackles.⁵

Such rhetoric had threatening implications for the continuation of British rule in Guiana. But the policy proposals that the PPP issued during the campaign were notably reformist in tone and emphasis. There was, for example, no plan to expropriate land for the benefit of the landless. Instead, the party proposed to carry out a program of land reclamation whereby large amounts of land along the coastlands and rivers abandoned to bush and swamp can be made available for agriculture. It promised an equitable distribution of agricultural lands and a special emphasis on a more effective utilization of those resources. The PPP also planned to create an agricultural bank with the capital to provide credit for the acquisition, development, and maintenance of agricultural holdings. It endorsed proper and adequate salaries and wages for workers and said it will do everything to encourage the growth of strong and militant Trade Unions to protect and improve the conditions of employment of all workers.

The party announced that it stood for free education for all and promised that under its administration we will see that equal educational opportunities are provided for all regardless of race, creed, social origin, income, or geographical locations. Deploring the present rut into which the housing situation all over the colony has been allowed to sink, the PPP advocated the construction of government-assisted housing. It committed itself to abrogating the existing laws and regulations which restrict the civil liberties of the people such as banning of individuals, books, films.⁶

These and other proposals by the PPP, such as its support for free trade and universal adult suffrage and the public ownership of all public utilities, were hardly revolutionary in spirit. Its plans lacked any marked ideological orientation and were responding to the needs of the colony and its people, particularly those whose interests had been traditionally ignored by the imperial authorities. These were the sentiments of young nationalists troubled by the enormity of the problems British Guiana confronted, energized by the challenges they posed, and impatient with the slow pace of change. Noisy and rhetorically pugnacious, the party's spokespersons frightened the guardians of the status quo, creating in them a paranoia that warped their judgment about its plans for the country.

The opposition to the PPP was led most vociferously by the press. In a society where the written word carried excessive authority, newspapers exerted a major influence on the construction and shaping of the political consciousness of the citizenry. The Daily Argosy, perhaps the most stridently anti-ppp, consistently condemned its leaders as communist, declined to endorse any of its candidates for office, and derisively characterized the party's electoral symbol as a poison cup. In addition to the formidable opposition of the press, the PPP confronted the strong resistance of the Manpower Citizens Association (MPCA), the union that represented the workers in the sugar industry. Led by Lionel A. Luckhoo, a prominent barrister of Indian descent, the union funded the publication of a strong indictment of the PPP in a supplement to the daily newspapers just days before the election. The hierarchy of the influential Christian denominations, especially the Anglican and Roman Catholic churches, also voiced their opposition to the PPP.

The PPP'S spectacular victory at the polls produced anxiety and fear among its opponents. The elite groups viewed it as an aberration, a triumph of evil forces, and the advent of Armageddon. The Daily Argosy blamed the disappointing electoral results on people in the towns and villages who nurture a kind of dull resentment against authority in all its forms. The paper recognized that some of the voters nursed grievances, but it wondered how far these grievances and frustrations are genuine, and how far their own fault does not matter; it is enough that they are resentful and hence lean towards the party that preaches revolutionary change and promises something for nothing. The Argosy thought the rural people and the sugar industry workers were victims of propaganda directed at the ignorant. These people were isolated by illiteracy and from the vehicles of truth. It also denounced the disgraceful apathy of those who had much to lose in the event of a PPP victory. Such persons preferred their leisure and cocktail parties to the hard work of political organization and the exposure of the electioneering platform.⁷

Many other voices of privilege were contemptuous of the political judgment of the unlettered members of society. These people had been manipulated by the PPP, its critics alleged, and duped into believing that the promised land was at hand. A. G. King, himself a defeated candidate for election, thought the voters had been swayed by inflammatory speeches and silly promises. C. Cambridge and C. Beresford, both trades unionists, said the PPP had been swept into office on a wave of irresponsibility and ignorance. John T. Clarke, the deputy mayor of New Amsterdam, seemed to agree. He claimed the people were fooled so much by the PPP that they were not prepared to listen to anyone else but a PPP candidate. . . . When you go among people some of whom are illiterate and make all of these promises and say 'if I become the government, I would do this and do that' it would be difficult for people who are illiterate not to accept your promises.⁸ Illiterate Guianese had, of course, voted their own interests, as had those who condemned them. Some PPP candidates undoubtedly made electoral promises that could not be kept, but their opponents offered blandishments of another sort to their sympathizers, assuring them that threats to the status quo would be contained.

The PPP'S gospel of change was its most important asset. Cheddi Jagan had made a reputation in the old Legislative Council as the voice of a new British Guiana. Charismatic, loved and respected especially by the Indo-Guianese people, Jagan had become a messiah to many. The daily newspapers' vitriolic assaults on Jagan and the PPP only enhanced his stature among supporters as well as the appeal of the PPP. D. P. Debidin, a solicitor and former member of the Legislative Council, complained that the silly propaganda of the newspapers was the nutrient, the oxygen, that supplied . . . virility to the party. Debidin continued:

The editors and newspaper proprietors were certainly devoid of the most elementary principles of psychology. If a member of the Executive of the PPP coughed, it was published. The columns of adverse criticisms of the PPP which appeared daily, especially in the Argosy, was [sic] grand publicity, and free at that, far better than which the Party could not have hoped. The Graphic newspaper ran daily in the largest type a banner advertisement to the effect that you cannot be a member of the PPP and be a Guianese. All the PPP supporters had to do at public meetings was to show who owned the newspapers, and tell the people that the more they criticised them was the greater reason for the people to support them.⁹

To the Daily Argosy, the Graphic, and other conservative organs of opinion, Cheddi Jagan was an unredeemable communist villain. But to his fervent supporters, he was the champion of the exploited, the dispossessed, and the forgotten. As soon as Mr. Jagan got into the Legislative Court [sic], said one proponent, he first considered the poor, the aged. Seen in this light, the people at the margins of society voted for the promise of a better future.¹⁰

Writing to Prime Minister Winston Churchill shortly after the PPP'S electoral victory, the secretary of state for the colonies, Oliver Lyttleton, admitted that the situation gives me cause for anxiety. Still, he noted, The Governor sees no grounds for undue pessimism provided that the members of the People's Progressive Party who become Ministers are prepared to work within the framework of the Constitution and to see reason on financial and economic matters. The secretary of state was reassured that the PPP'S plan for governing is no more extreme than that of the Opposition [Labour Party] here. Moreover, it contains none of the usual communist aims and it advocates industrial development through the encouragement of foreign capital. Lyttleton was troubled, however, that some of the PPP'S leaders have been behind the Iron Curtain recently. He respected the election results and wanted the party to have its chance to govern the colony. Nevertheless, the colonial authorities needed to keep a close watch on the ministers and act without delay if they use their position to further the communist cause. The secretary assured the prime minister that the governor had reserve powers to act in the interests of public faith, public order, or good government. He saw no reason for seeking American support if problems arose.¹¹

In spite of these assurances, the Colonial Office's early distrust of the PPP government was not allayed. Five days before the inaugural session of the new legislature on May 18, the office began to review the availability of forces in the event of disturbances in British Guiana. On May 30, Lord Lloyd of the Colonial Office asked Governor Savage to provide him with an assessment of the reliability of the colony's security forces should riots or other disturbances occur as a result of political developments. N. L. Mayle, also of the Colonial Office, elaborated on this request on June 3, asking the governor if he would include a further report on the extent to which the P.P.P. has supporters in the Police Force. He informed Savage that the Colonial Office was considering in a preliminary and quite tentative way, what outside forces might be available for British Guiana if conditions warranted it. Lord Lloyd wanted the governor to keep the commanders of the British troops in the Caribbean abreast of developments so they could respond to a request for assistance. Clearly, London was bracing itself for violent disturbances in the colony.¹²

As the PPP prepared to assume office, tensions between the two principal leaders—Cheddi Jagan and Forbes Burnham—came to the fore. Burnham demanded that he be declared the leader of the party, proclaiming leader or nothing. Although this strategy failed, Jagan had to make concessions to him in the allocation of ministerial positions. The six ministers subsequently named were evenly balanced between Indians and Africans. With the exception of two ministers, all were no older than thirty-five. Dr. Jagan, leader of the House of Assembly and minister of agriculture, forests, lands, and mines, was thirty-five; Forbes Burnham, minister of education, and Sydney King, minister of communications and works, were thirty; and Ashton Chase, minister of labour, industry, and commerce, was twenty-eight. Jagan was the only minister with legislative experience.

Ministers of the 1953 Cheddi Jagan administration and Janet Jagan. Left to right: Dr. Joseph Lachmansingh, minister of health and housing; Sydney King, minister of communications and works; Linden Burnham, minister of education; Janet Jagan,