Business and Economic Commentary by Christopher Ram
Part I: When business disputes expose underground networks
Introduction
The leak of an explosive March 25, 2025, interview between businessman Azeem ‘Junior’ Baksh of Gold Target Imports and intrepid journalist Travis Chase has triggered more than just a public clash between wealthy businessmen. Baksh detailed what he described as a “harrowing” gold importation scheme, claiming it implicated high-ranking officials. “I am sure that they want to close me down,” Baksh said. “Tamesh Jagmohan wants me closed down… Sonna made that very clear to me – if I pursue him for owed cash, (those in authority) would use state agencies to get me.”
The parties have denied the revelations. But beyond the specific business dispute lies a more troubling question: how did our country arrive at a point where underground economic networks appear so deeply intertwined with state power?
This is no child’s play. It recalls a time when the underground economy which kept the country supplied to an extent that it was tolerated by the state and woven into everyday life. But crucially, it did not threaten the state’s survival – it existed around politics, not inside it.
Frighteningly, Baksh, reflecting his experiences, tells us that in this new world, State agencies would act as agents of a different type in service to private disputants.
In the 1970s and 1980s, it was sometimes difficult to distinguish the underground economy from what was described as the official economy. Top public servants and business executives left their offices to buy contraband flour and potatoes and dhal and toilet paper from shops that had lookouts for the state police. After the Sophia Declaration nationalisations, the government controlled an estimated over 80% of the economy. Import licences, foreign exchange rationing, and price controls created chronic shortages. The oil crisis of 1973, collapsing bauxite prices, and the fixed exchange rate of G$2.55 to US$1 became a fiction.
How the original underground worked
On the streets, US dollars traded at several times the official rate. Traders traveled to Trinidad, Suriname, Venezuela, and Curaçao to buy goods with black-market dollars for resale at home. Tellingly, when President Hoyte introduced cambio licences to formalise currency exchange, the men who had been selling US dollars in Commerce Street (where else?) and around Stabroek Market were among the first to apply for licences to operate non-bank cambios.
Border routes moved goods from neighbouring countries: Springlands on the East, Lethem on the South and fuel coming via Morawhanna to the North. Some operators became household names – the man with an oriental nickname who started out dealing with flour, built a massive construction equipment empire, an accomplished athlete who hawked ladies’ underwear was eponymously associated with a nightclub (and noise nuisance) and now a major entertainment and gambling operation.
That phase also produced the market vendor who founded a prominent national newspaper; another whose buildings have transformed Georgetown’s skyline, and three enterprising professionals who pioneered the barrel trade that grew into a major shipping operation. These were textbook cases of how contraband profits could be folded into legitimate corporate identities.
Political tolerance, not dependence
Despite public threats to “stamp out smuggling,” the state often looked the other way. Contraband eased shortages, and the underground currency market provided hard cash that even official agencies sometimes accessed through intermediaries. Crucially, operators did not try to buy political influence – they were traders, not power brokers. Indeed, one of them up to this day describes himself simply as a hustler.
By the mid-1980s, this economy was part of normal life. Border towns like Lethem and Corriverton bustled with unofficial markets. Regent and Water streets offered goods that government outlets lacked. Civil servants and police officers ran small side ventures – a minibus, a shop, rental rooms – to supplement incomes. These were modest, low-profile, and carefully kept separate from public activities.
That sector did not escape academic interest. Perhaps the most famous was Clive Thomas whose study found that the underground economy at 80-100% of the official economy during the mid-1980s. Notable too were Bishnodat Persaud (UWI) and Kenrick Hunte (UG) who found valuable opportunity to study the phenomenon of parallel markets and shadow activities, exchange rates and tax evasion. Inevitably too, there were institutional sources like the IMF, World Bank, and ECLAC.
Then and now
This first-phase underground economy distorted prices and eroded formal business, but it was not an existential danger to governance. The black market, not the Bank of Guyana, set the real price of the dollar. Formal importers could not match contraband’s speed or cost. Staying in one’s place was the rule. Politicians tolerated the underground economy. The unwritten rule was simple: take a little, keep it quiet, and stay away from the political arena.
The most telling difference between then and now lies in scale and integration. In the 1970s-80s, a senior public servant might own one or two minibuses or run a small shop. Today, many in similar positions have become major contractors, licensed and unlicensed exporters, or concession-holders, and dredge owners, using public office as commercial weapons.
This change is fundamental: the side hustle has moved from the margins to the heart of the state apparatus. Phase One was a safety valve in a scarcity economy. Underground operators made money but did not bankroll political parties and their election campaigns or dictate policy. Nor did politicians need them to survive in power to retain – and remain in – power.
Conclusion
What we see in the Baksh revelations is fundamentally different. The underground economy has grown richer, politically powerful – and dangerous. Unexplained and dark money are called on to finance expensive election campaigns. Political and commercial interests combine in a symbiotic web of private and public corruption.
This is no longer tolerance – it is mutual dependency. When underground wealth and political power lock together, they threaten not just fair competition, but democracy itself.
Next week: Part II examines how this transformation threatens democratic institutions and what the Baksh case reveals about modern underground networks.

