Saramago, Economic Power, and Belize’s Democracy

Contributed – By Ismael Perez

BELIZE CITY, Fri. Aug. 15, 2025

José Saramago, a famous Portuguese writer who won the Nobel Prize, once said something that really made me stop and think. He said we can’t honestly say we live in a real democracy if, even though we vote for our leaders, those leaders end up working more for big businesses and rich people than for everyday citizens. It sounds tough, but when you look at Belize, it feels pretty close to home. So the big question is: who really runs the country? Is it us, the people, through our votes and elected leaders? Or is it a small group of wealthy elites, both local and foreign, quietly pulling the strings behind the scenes?

Belize has elections, a parliament, and laws, so democracy definitely exists on paper. But Saramago’s point is about how real and strong that democracy really is. If the government can’t control or stop the abuses of economic power, then democracy becomes just a show. We get to vote, sure, but often the real decisions are made by those with economic power.

Belize’s political system is based on the British parliamentary model, with elections every five years. But in reality, two parties dominate: the People’s United Party and the United Democratic Party. Other parties exist, but rarely make a difference. This two-party system gives a sense of stability, but it also limits real choices. If both parties keep following the same economic path and refuse to challenge big private or foreign capital, then changing governments doesn’t really change the system. It just changes the faces in charge.

Belize’s economy is like a small household connected to the global economy. Most of our income comes from tourism, agriculture, and financial services. But when we say financial services, we’re not just talking about local banks. A lot of it comes from offshore services—foreign companies using Belize as a legal base to register businesses or park money. This brings in revenue but doesn’t deeply benefit our local economy. Meanwhile, local businesses and workers are the ones keeping things running. The government sets the rules and provides schools, hospitals, and roads, but in a small country like ours, big foreign investors often carry more weight than we do.

Many important economic decisions happen quietly, behind closed doors. A clear example is the Four Diamond Security contracts. Just days before the 2025 general elections, the Belize Airports Authority signed multi-million-dollar deals with Four Diamond Security Limited in secret, with no public bidding. The only reason we found out was because a journalist uncovered the story. After public pressure, the contracts were suspended and eventually canceled—not because the system held anyone accountable, but because the media forced it into the spotlight. That says a lot. Decisions that affect millions of dollars and public trust are often made without transparency.

We’ve also seen major foreign projects, like the Chalillo Dam built by a Chinese company, move forward despite strong environmental concerns and little public debate. And let’s not forget wealthy local business elites with political connections who sometimes get special treatment when it comes to contracts, licenses, or even which laws are enforced and which aren’t. International institutions like the IMF and the Inter-American Development Bank also shape our economy through recommendations and reforms that are often made without public consultation. The end result is that every day Belizeans are left out of the conversations that most affect their lives.

So how democratic is our democracy when institutions go silent? If regular people don’t have real control over how money and power are used, can we really call it a democracy? Do we get to weigh in on big projects that affect our communities? Can we truly hold corporations or officials accountable when they do wrong? Do we know how public money is being spent? Honestly, not really.

Look again at the Four Diamond case. A private company was handed major contracts in secret. No one knew until a journalist exposed it. That’s not what democracy is supposed to look like. This brings us to a bigger issue: separation of powers. In theory, government power is supposed to be divided. The courts, Parliament, watchdog institutions—they should all check and balance each other. They should be able to ask tough questions, investigate wrongdoing, and prevent abuse. But in Belize, these systems often don’t work the way they should. Some are underfunded. Some are too close to politics. Some just stay silent. So when there’s corruption or mismanagement, nothing happens. No accountability. No justice. And regular people continue to suffer while those with power remain protected.

What about the Ombudsman? This is someone who’s supposed to defend ordinary people when public officials abuse power or fail to act fairly. It’s a powerful role in a real democracy—a watchdog who can investigate, speak up, and push for justice. But here in Belize, we barely hear from the Ombudsman. No major investigations. No public reports that shake the system. No voice when the people need it most. Maybe that’s not entirely their fault. For years, the Office of the Ombudsman has been underfunded, ignored, and sidelined. Most people don’t even know where the office is, or what it really does. But this silence has a cost. When the institutions that are supposed to protect the people go quiet, corruption gets louder. When watchdogs stop barking, the thieves walk in freely.

Back in 2016, Belize signed the United Nations Convention Against Corruption (UNCAC), a big promise to be more transparent, more accountable, and to take corruption seriously. People were hopeful. But then, silence. A long silence. Almost sepulchral. Belize didn’t follow through. There was no serious implementation or major reforms. During the 2020 election campaign, the current administration brought UNCAC back into focus and promised to get serious about it. It sounded like a fresh start. But here we are, five years later, and nothing major has changed. That promise still waits.

This isn’t about red or blue politics. It’s about Belize. Accountability begins with those in power right now. When a government puts UNCAC in its manifesto, people expect action. And when that promise is broken, it hurts everyone. Corruption doesn’t just waste money. It leaves schools without books, hospitals without medicine, and communities without trust. Corruption steals from all of us. UNCAC wasn’t supposed to be just a headline. It was supposed to mean change. And promises matter.

But this isn’t about feeling hopeless. It’s about being honest and clear-eyed about where we stand. Democracy in Belize matters. But if we want it to work for everyone, we have to do more than just vote every few years. We need transparency. Government deals with powerful companies should never be secret. We have the right to know. We need participation. Democracy is not just about elections. Our voices should matter all the time. We need education. When we understand how the system works, we can make smarter choices and demand better. We need fairness in how national resources are shared. Budgets and taxes should work for the people, not just the privileged. And we need courage—from leaders, from institutions, and from us, the people—to stand up to economic power when it harms our communities.

That’s how we build a stronger, deeper democracy—one that serves us all, not just a few. Maybe it’s time in Belize and beyond to ask what kind of democracy we really want, and whether we’re ready to fight for one that not only lets us vote, but lets us truly shape our future.