The Receipts Don't Lie
They taxed more, spent more, and built less. Not for lack of funds—but lack of intent.
It’s been five years since the APNU+AFC coalition was voted out of office. Since then, they’ve clung to a single story like a life raft: we did the best we could without oil. That’s their defence. That’s their explanation for their five lost years.
But if you read the budgets—really read them—you’ll see that story fall apart.
Because they did have money. A lot of it. Billions, in fact. From taxes. From loans. From VAT hikes.
And what they chose to do with that money says everything.
In 2016, their first full year with the nation’s purse strings, they spent G$177.4 billion just to run the government: salaries, travel, allowances, meals, office rents. That’s the current expenditure line.
Capital Expenditure —the money meant for building clinics, schools, roads, housing—was just G$59.7 billion.
A 3:1 ratio. Three dollars for themselves for every dollar for the people.
By 2018, the imbalance had grown worse: G$207.4 billion for recurrent costs. Capital spending fell to G$58.1 billion.
It’s as if they’d settled into the idea that running government was the goal, not building a country.
And if you follow the line items, it becomes clearer.
Two codes—626 for “Travel and Transport” and 629 for “Other Operating Expenses”—show you what they valued most. These are the accounts for per diems, business-class tickets, catered events, receptions, hotel rooms, vehicle fleets, allowances, and all the quiet comforts of power.
In 2016, those two lines alone took G$12.52 billion.
In 2018, G$14.48 billion.
That’s not cumulative. That’s per year.
Compare that to what they spent building schools:
The entire capital budget for the Ministry of Education in 2018? G$2.8 billion.
The perk budget? More than five times that.
Or look at agriculture:
Capital spending in 2018: G$4.60 billion.
Perks? Over three times that figure.
They were never out of money.
They were just never in the business of building.
Nowhere is this clearer than in housing.
In 2016, the Ministry of Housing & Water got a seemingly respectable capital allocation: G$6.98 billion, spread across roadworks, site development, squatter area upgrades, and the Low-Income Settlement Programme.
And yet, that same year, the government spent nearly double that—G$12.52 billion—on travel, meals, and miscellaneous comforts.
By 2018, after housing was absorbed into the Ministry of Communities, it was clear they had lost interest.
The entire capital budget for sustainable community development—what effectively replaced housing—was just G$3.69 billion.
And here’s the kicker: they made you pay for it.
Between 2016 and 2018, VAT revenue increased significantly.
This wasn’t because the economy grew—it was because APNU extended VAT to water, electricity, private education, internet service, and even medical goods.
The average Guyanese paid more for basic services.
But the new schools?
The new housing schemes?
The rehabilitated farms?
They didn’t come.
Instead, we got a bigger travel budget.
Let’s indulge their favourite what-if: What if oil money had come while they were in office?
Imagine for the sake of mathematical simplicity that oil revenues brought in roughly G$100 billion a year.
Had APNU been in power, and kept to their own ratio—3.6:1 in favour of recurrent spending—then:
G$78 billion would have gone to overhead, comforts, and administrative churn.
Just G$22 billion would’ve been left to build the Guyana of the future.
Oil would not have saved us.
It would have padded the VIP lounge.
What these budgets show isn’t a government starved for revenue.
It’s a government drunk on itself.
They weren’t under-resourced.
They were over-indulged.
And the real tragedy is how normal it became.
How the same ministers who raised taxes on electricity flew first class to conferences on “sustainability.”
How the cost of water went up while new housing construction quietly died.
People say budgets don’t lie.
But it’s more than that.
Budgets remember.
They hold the receipts long after the speeches fade.
And what Guyana’s 2016 and 2018 budgets remember is a government that raised taxes, lived large, built little, and now wants to be congratulated for surviving without oil.
They had money.
They had choices.
And they chose themselves