By Sir Ronald Sanders
The Caribbean is living through a moment of rising geopolitical tension. As the United States intensifies pressure on the Maduro government in Venezuela, the ripples reach CARICOM shores fast. None of these countries chose this confrontation, yet each of them is forced to navigate its consequences.
This is nothing new. Small states always live at the edge of power. But recent events have exposed, with painful clarity, how thin the shield of individual sovereignty becomes when the pressure of great-power politics mounts.
Community tested by high politics
CARICOM has long described itself as a “Community of Sovereign States.” It is a noble phrase, suggesting unity grounded in mutual cooperation. Yet this crisis has shown how fragile that unity becomes when confronted with high politics—especially politics involving the United States, a country on which many CARICOM economies depend.
In mid-October, CARICOM heads of government reaffirmed the region’s doctrine: the Caribbean must remain a Zone of Peace; disputes must be resolved by dialogue; and sovereignty and territorial integrity must be upheld in international law. But the ink was barely dry when divisions surfaced.
Trinidad and Tobago reserved its position and later distanced itself from the collective statement. Guyana—facing a territorial claim and military posture from Venezuela that have overshadowed it for sixty-three years—welcomed the US presence as a deterrent. Some governments stayed silent. A few reiterated the need for de-escalation and respect for law.
Within days CARICOM’s supposed unity became a patchwork of national interests. The Zone of Peace became less a shared principle than a slogan of interpretation.
The peril of fragmentation
This fragmentation should alarm all CARICOM peoples. Small states cannot endure as isolated fragments; they last only as part of something larger. When the small divide, the strong decide. And if the Caribbean cannot speak with one voice in defence of law, others will speak for it in the language of might.
Our region must confront a truth that is uncomfortable but unavoidable: sovereignty for the small is both precious and precarious. It is precious because it affirms the moral equality of nations, giving each—no matter its size—a rightful place in the international system. Yet it is precarious because true sovereignty depends on the capacity to exercise it—a capacity no CARICOM state truly possesses.
Global politics operates through hierarchy. Five countries wield veto power at the UN Security Council. Wealthy shareholders dominate multilateral institutions. Trade outcomes favour power, not fairness. Climate diplomacy leaves the smallest states, like Sisyphus, pushing a boulder up a mountain—fighting for compensation for destruction caused by others.
Small Caribbean nations live these realities every day. Economic fragility, limited defence resources, reliance on external markets, and exposure to natural disasters narrow the practical meaning of sovereignty.
The case for collective strength
Yet because of these vulnerabilities, sovereignty matters more—not less. It is the shield that prevents small nations from being swept away by the currents of power. But a shield is useful only if wielded with strength—and no small state has that strength alone.
Sovereignty must be asserted individually but exercised collectively. That is the heart of the Caribbean project and its most persistent challenge.
Too often, governments allow external relationships to influence internal decision-making. Too often, they anticipate what a powerful partner wants and act accordingly—even when doing so weakens the regional collective. Sovereignty cannot survive if continuously surrendered through self-censorship.
The remedy is not uniformity of views. It is consistency of process. Debate within the family. Decisions jointly reached and collectively maintained. For if we cannot resolve differences among ourselves, we invite outsiders to define the region’s positions.
Law as the discipline of power
Power will always shape the international landscape. Small states cannot pretend otherwise. But law moderates its sharpest edges. International law does not abolish power politics, but it disciplines it. It transforms might into obligation; it turns coercion into an act that must justify itself. Courts, tribunals, and international forums allow the small to confront the large using reason and norms—not force.
A region at a crossroads
This is where the Caribbean countries stand today: geopolitical pressures demand coherence, but domestic calculations often pull them apart. CARICOM has come far, but not far enough, in building a political community capable of withstanding global storms.
Caribbean governments must continue to affirm that law applies as much to the powerful as to the powerless. They should resist any order that tries to turn might into right. And they must ensure the region does not slip back into patterns where external powers pick off states one by one.
The real work of Caribbean integration today is existential. It is about ensuring that sovereignty is strengthened by community. If they stand together—on principle, on dignity, and on the sovereign equality promised in the UN Charter—then even in a world of rising geopolitical storms, the Caribbean will not merely endure. It will shape its own course.
Give to get: Working together with the reality of power
These concepts need not collide; they can be reconciled if we accept that both the mighty and the small must be persuaded—through reason and reciprocity—to accept limits on autonomy out of enlightened self-interest.
The old doctrines of absolute sovereignty, and the old formulas of development and aid, must give way. All countries—including small ones—must learn to give in order to get. Only then can we build an international order in which cooperation is a two-way street—anchored in human rights and humanitarian law, giving small states a chance not only to survive but to prosper. But no single CARICOM country, nor a partial group, can negotiate such a strategy. All must do it together.
This commentary is based on my 2025 Distinguished Lecture of the Organisation of Caribbean Bar Associations, available here.
