ADRIANNA YOUNGE AND THE FIRE THIS TIME: GRIEF, RAGE, AND THE RECKONING OF A NATION
Saturday Deep Dive | Guyana Business Journal Editorial
On April 28, 2025, when international pathologists announced that 11-year-old Adrianna Younge had drowned with no signs of foul play[1], the reaction was swift and furious. Outside Georgetown Public Hospital Corporation (GPHC), grief transformed into rage as relatives and supporters pounded on hospital gates and climbed fences, demanding answers beyond the clinical verdict of drowning. Tactical Services Unit officers in riot gear formed a perimeter, but the thin line between order and chaos had already dissolved. By nightfall, the flames of burning tires illuminated roads from Belladrum to Buxton, buses lay overturned in Georgetown streets, and the nation found itself, once again, at a precipice.
Two men—described by authorities as suspected looters—lay dead, shot during the chaos[2]. Over 100 people would be arrested in the days that followed[3]. The government, invoking the Public Order Act, imposed an overnight curfew[4]. What began as mourning had erupted into a full-scale national reckoning.
But what is this moment really about?
To view this unrest solely as a reaction to one girl’s tragic death is to miss the deeper architecture of Guyanese anguish. Adrianna’s death—and the official response to it—became a lightning rod for simmering fears about state legitimacy, institutional justice, and ethnic marginalization. The crowds that gathered at GPHC were not merely protesting an autopsy finding; they were challenging a perceived pattern of institutional indifference.
Adrianna’s father publicly rejected the drowning verdict, accusing authorities of covering up foul play and demanding deeper DNA and toxicology tests[5]. His distrust resonated widely, not because of evidence, but because it articulated a visceral skepticism of official narratives that has deep historical roots in Guyana’s fractured society. The government’s response—tear gas and rubber bullets to disperse the initial hospital protesters[6]—only confirmed for many the state’s readiness to meet grief with force. By April 29, the crackdown had intensified: security forces patrolled streets under curfew, raids swept through neighborhoods, and by April 30, dozens faced terrorism-related charges[7].
At the heart of the unrest lies a politically explosive metaphor: that of occupation. Some have compared the PPP-led state to colonial rule, drawing analogies to the Mau Mau uprising and framing Afro-Guyanese communities as a people dispossessed in their own homeland. This rhetoric taps into a deeper sense of disenfranchisement, where democratic elections do not feel like deliverance, and where economic and cultural marginalization is read through the lens of historical grievance.
The comparison is potent but fraught. The PPP is not a settler regime—it is an elected government in a multiethnic republic. Yet critics point to its dominance over public institutions, the selective distribution of economic opportunity, and the rhetorical sidelining of Afro-Guyanese voices as evidence of a creeping ethnocracy. These claims, while controversial, evoke an enduring feeling among many that the ideals of republicanism—once championed by Black leadership at independence—have been replaced by a fragile pluralism prone to majoritarian excess.
The idea of an “imaginary black majority” fighting to reclaim sovereignty is demographically misleading—Afro-Guyanese do not constitute a demographic majority, and Guyana has no legally defined “racial rulers.” Yet the legacy of Black political leadership during independence, coupled with a deep sense of cultural dispossession, fuels a counter-memory in which Black Guyanese see themselves not simply as another ethnic group, but as original stewards of the republican ideal—now estranged from the power they helped birth.
That feeling—of interrupted self-determination—matters. It fuels a narrative in which Afro-Guyanese are not just another constituency, but the betrayed stewards of Guyana’s democratic project. It explains the visceral intensity of the protests: the chants, the barricades, the refusal to accept an autopsy report as conclusive truth. For many, Adrianna’s death was not an isolated tragedy; it was a symbol of state indifference to Black life.
The political response to the unrest has followed familiar partisan lines, even as leaders on both sides condemn the violence. Opposition Leader Aubrey Norton (PNCR) addressed supporters on April 30, restating his party’s backing for a “multi-ethnic” national outcry over Adrianna’s death. Norton explicitly called for peaceful demonstrations, stating “we are all for peaceful protest. We will condone no criminal activities,”[8] and urging the police to pursue looters and arsonists. In a May 2 letter to President Ali, he requested an international Commission of Inquiry, citing the girl’s death under “suspicious circumstances” and the police’s “deplorable actions” as having seriously undermined public trust[9].
Meanwhile, Attorney General Anil Nandlall (PPP) accused the opposition of cynically trying to politicize the case. He rejected claims that the ruling party had instigated any unrest, calling such allegations “twisted logic.”[10] Government ministers maintain that the autopsy and ongoing forensic tests are transparent, emphasizing that three foreign pathologists (from the U.S. and Caribbean) performed thorough examinations and have invited the Younge family’s chosen pathologist to review the findings.
President Irfaan Ali, in a televised statement late Monday, appealed for calm, warning that “the destruction of public infrastructure and private property, [and] burning of people’s vehicles… is not what we want to demonstrate as a people and as a nation.”[11] He promised “a review of all the events from the time the report was made to the time the body was found,” attempting to balance restoration of order with accountability.
Historically, Guyana has been here before. From the racial violence of the 1960s to the contested elections of 2020, similar incidents have sparked widespread agitation. In 1964, a sugar-workers’ strike led by the Guyana Agricultural Workers Union turned into violent ethnic clashes—over 170 people were killed and hundreds wounded as largely Indo-Guyanese laborers and Afro-Guyanese groups fought each other and the police[12]. More recently, the 2020 presidential election incited major protests, with allegations of fraud leading PPP supporters to block roads and burn tires nationwide. Police fired on crowds, killing an 18-year-old protestor in a West Coast Berbice village[13]. Just weeks before Adrianna’s case, in April 2025, police in Linden shot and killed two local men in custody, triggering riots until President Ali pledged independent probes[14]. Each crisis follows a similar pattern: a contested incident, institutional opacity, conspiracy theories, and then violence—both real and rhetorical.
These flashpoints share themes with the Younge case. In each, rumors and conspiracy theories quickly circulate (for Adrianna, theories of ritual sacrifice; in 2020, foreign interference; in the 1960s, Cold War meddling). Mobilization often crosses ethnic lines: while Guyanese society is frequently polarized along Indo/Afro divisions, the Adrianna protests have drawn participants from both communities, as noted by opposition leaders and observers[15]. Young people, organized via social media and diaspora networks, frequently lead these outpourings, using tactics like drumming, chanting, and road blockades that echo older generations’ “rowdyism” and sit-ins.
The authorities likewise follow precedent: curfews, heavy police deployments, and tough charges have been used repeatedly to restore order. By May 1, about 24 men had been formally charged with serious offenses (some under anti-terror laws) for their alleged roles in looting or incitement[16]. The burned vehicles and barricades at Belladrum and other crossings were cleared by municipal crews with police standing by.
Beyond the political arena, the Adrianna Younge case has ignited grassroots activism across Guyana and its diaspora. Villagers have built shrines and sponsored online vigils, while Guyanese communities abroad in the U.S., UK, and elsewhere have held candlelight marches chanting “Justice for Adrianna!”[17] This networked response speaks to both the emotional resonance of the case and the increasingly global nature of Guyanese civil society.
The government has taken some remedial steps. On May 2, the police announced that two officers (a corporal and a constable) had been fired for neglect in handling Adrianna’s disappearance[18]. The owner of the Double Day Hotel (where Adrianna’s body was found and whose premises were later torched by mobs) was arrested on suspicion of involvement, then released after the legal detention period—though police say he has been “blacklisted” from leaving the country during the investigation[19]. Still, for many Guyanese, these measures feel insufficient—patches on a deeper wound of mistrust. The unrest highlights deep skepticism toward institutions—the police, the judiciary, even science—among ordinary citizens. If left unaddressed, such events can aggravate longstanding grievances between ethnic groups or regions. Historically, each major disturbance has left scars on Guyana’s collective psyche.
As we navigate this moment, we must resist easy binaries. The language of occupation and resistance, however cathartic, risks legitimizing political violence and alienating the younger, more multiracial generation struggling to move beyond ethno-political grievance. It obscures the poverty and exclusion faced by many Indo-Guyanese and perpetuates the narrative of zero-sum victimhood. A more constructive framing would assert the need for genuine power-sharing and institutional reform, the importance of economic justice across racial lines, and a commitment to truth-telling about historical wounds without weaponizing them. As one editorial urged, honoring Adrianna’s memory will require “uniting” rather than dividing the country[20].
Yet this cycle is not inevitable. This time, there are glimmers of another path. The widespread demand for transparency—including an independent inquiry backed by both parties—shows a rare consensus: everyone ostensibly wants the truth, even if they disagree on how to achieve it.
What we are witnessing, then, is not just a crisis—it is a test. A test of whether we can honor grief without weaponizing it. A test of whether we can demand accountability without burning the bridges of democratic discourse. A test of whether the Republic, so bruised by its own history, can still find within itself the maturity to heal.
In this task, the truth must come first. Not the expedient truth of press releases or political spin, but the difficult truth that sees both the mother’s loss and the nation’s fault lines. The truth about Adrianna’s death, but also about the deep currents of distrust, dispossession, and division that turned a child’s funeral into a national conflagration.
Only then can Adrianna’s name become not a spark for division, but a beacon for reform—a call to build institutions that earn trust across Guyana’s ethnic mosaic, a reminder that beneath political rhetoric lie real families, real pain, and a real hunger for justice that transcends party and race.
Guyana stands now at a familiar crossroads, but with an opportunity to choose a different path—one where grief becomes not a weapon but a window into our common humanity. For in the end, the fires that burn today illuminate not just our divisions, but our desperate shared need to move beyond them.
Guyana Business Journal Editorial Board
Saturday Deep Dive Series
May 10, 2025
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References
[1] Stabroek News, “Autopsy Concludes Adrianna Younge Died from Drowning,” April 28, 2025.
[2] AP News, “Two Dead as Protests Erupt Following Autopsy of Guyanese Girl,” April 29, 2025.
[3] Guyana Chronicle, “Over 100 Arrested in Wake of Georgetown Riots,” April 30, 2025.
[4] Official Gazette of Guyana, “Order Under the Public Order Act,” April 29, 2025.
[5] Guyana Times, “Younge Family Rejects Autopsy Findings, Demands Further Tests,” April 29, 2025.
[6] Reuters, “Tear Gas, Rubber Bullets Used to Disperse Protestors at Georgetown Hospital,” April 28, 2025.
[7] Stabroek News, “Two Dozen Charged with Terrorism Offenses Following Unrest,” May 1, 2025.
[8] PNCR Official Statement, “Address by Opposition Leader Aubrey Norton,” April 30, 2025.
[9] Letter from PNCR to Office of the President, “Request for International Commission of Inquiry,” May 2, 2025.
[10] Ministry of Legal Affairs, “Statement by Attorney General Anil Nandlall,” April 30, 2025.
[11] Office of the President, “National Address by President Irfaan Ali,” April 28, 2025.
[12] Caribbean Historical Review, “The 1964 Sugar Workers’ Strike and Ethnic Violence in British Guiana,” Vol. 38, 2019.
[13] Human Rights Watch, “Guyana: Post-Election Violence Report,” September 2020.
[14] Demerara Waves, “President Pledges Independent Investigation into Linden Deaths,” April 10, 2025.
[15] Stabroek News, “Multi-ethnic Character of Adrianna Protests Noted by Observers,” May 1, 2025.
[16] Guyana Judicial Information System, “Case Listings: Georgetown Magistrate’s Court,” May 1, 2025.
[17] Kaieteur News, “Diaspora Communities Hold Vigils for Adrianna Younge,” May 2, 2025.
[18] Guyana Police Force, “Official Statement on Personnel Actions,” May 2, 2025.
[19] Guyana Times, “Double Day Hotel Owner Released but Blacklisted from Travel,” May 3, 2025.
[20] Guyana Chronicle Editorial, “Uniting in Adrianna’s Memory,” May 1, 2025.
Civics Education: A Necessary Step Forward, Politics Aside