Oct 03, 2025
Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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(Kaieteur News) – I always suspected that one day the government would invent a new institution to solve all our problems, and that it would turn out to be about as useful as a fork in a soup. And here it is: the grand “Development Bank.” At least, that’s what they called it on the campaign trail, where promises are made with all the precision of a drunken man throwing darts.

But now, months later, after the flags and banners have been folded and the drums put away, the Development Bank is not so much a bank as it is a lending agency for small businesses—essentially a glorified pawn shop.

It is highly possible that it will be modeled after the Grameen Bank of Bangladesh, which is like me announcing that I’m modeling my personal finances after Bill Gates’s—except I don’t have the billions, the foundation, as a Bill Gates.

The Grameen Bank – the so-called Bank of the Poor – incidentally, wasn’t without its controversies. Accusations of high interest rates, poor borrowers trapped in debt, and the Nobel Peace Prize looking like it had been awarded for inventing the wheel. But that’s the bank we’re copying.

And, true to form, our version has no feasibility study. None. Not even a doodle on a cocktail napkin. A concept paper is in the works, which is bureaucratic code for, “We’re writing something vague so we can say it exists.”

And let’s talk numbers. A Development Bank—an institution that’s supposed to transform the economy, support industry, agriculture, and infrastructure—will be capitalised with 200 million dollars. That sounds impressive until you realise it’s Guyana dollars, not U.S. In banking terms, that’s the equivalent of opening a grocery store with enough stock for three tins of milk, a bottle of pepper sauce, and a packet of salt. The first loan will probably wipe out half the capital. The second loan will require a parliamentary supplementary provision

Of course, the dangers of a state-run bank are legendary. Loans will be given not on merit, but because some minister’s cousin has a dream of starting a waterbed factory in Mahaica. The telephone at the bank will ring constantly with officials asking the loan officers to “help out” an applicant or two, or three, or the entire village. Before long, the Development Bank will resemble less an institution of financial empowerment and more a Christmas tree with ornaments of political favors.

And I can’t help but feel duped. On the campaign trail, the word “development bank” conjured visions of sleek skyscrapers, revolving doors, and serious people in gray suits financing hydropower plants and highways. Instead, we’re getting a micro-loan shop handing out a few dollars to buy a sewing machine. It’s as if they promised us a grand piano, and we ended up with a blow-blow

The deception is almost admirable. The electorate was sold a Development Bank. What we’re getting is a microenterprise fund that competes with the same private agencies already in the business. Only difference? This one will be run by the state, which is like saying you’ve decided to take your car for repairs to your cousin who once fixed a blender.

Of course, hovering over all of this will be the Minister without Portfolio. Whenever he’s in the picture, one expects things to go slightly sideways, like a painting that’s been hung upside down.

And so, the much-heralded Development Bank has shriveled into a damp squib. Instead of financing major businesses, as its names suggest, it will hand out loans for chicken coops and corner shops, and even that will be wrapped in red tape and political phone calls. Meanwhile, the private sector yawns, the small borrower scratches his head, and the rest of us wonder if this is really the best idea that could be hatched after the so-called consultations on developing the ruling party’s Manifesto.

But what do I know? Maybe, just maybe, a $200 million “development bank” will spark the next Silicon Valley in Silica City. Stranger things have happened. After all, I once invested my life savings in a friend’s revolutionary invention—a collapsible umbrella. It collapsed beautifully. Just not when it was supposed to.

Until then, forgive me if I remain skeptical. Banks are supposed to instill confidence. This one inspires the same confidence as a parachute knitted by my great grandmother.

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

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