The launch of the Americas Counter-Cartel Coalition last Saturday may well be driven by a genuine desire to confront the growing power of transnational criminal cartels.
Few would dispute the seriousness of that threat, as drug traffickers, narco-terrorists and organised crime syndicates have long exploited the porous borders and maritime spaces within the Caribbean and Latin America. But the manner in which this coalition is being assembled raises questions for the Caribbean Community (Caricom), which is already grappling with internal division.
At the inaugural summit in Florida, leaders from a select group of hemispheric countries were invited to sign the Doral Charter establishing the coalition.
From Caricom, only Trinidad and Tobago and Guyana were among those invited, though reports now suggest that Jamaica and The Bahamas may also be considered for inclusion.
Whether intentional or not, Washington’s approach risks deepening fractures within Caricom that were already clearly evident at the recently held Caricom Heads of Government meeting in St Kitts, where differences over regional priorities and foreign policy alignment surfaced above the usual diplomatic language.
There is no doubt that Trinidad and Tobago, in particular, faces an acute crisis of violent crime linked to transnational narcotics networks.
If participation in the coalition helps disrupt cartel activity feeding the criminal economy here, that is clearly in our national interest.
Yet criminal networks rarely disappear; they relocate.
If enforcement pressure intensifies in one or two Caribbean jurisdictions, trafficking routes could simply shift to neighbouring islands with fewer resources and weaker enforcement capacity.
In that context, a selective security arrangement risks exporting the problem rather than solving it.
History offers a useful reminder.
In the 1990s, Washington pushed Caribbean governments to adopt the Shiprider Agreement, allowing US law enforcement to pursue drug traffickers in regional waters with the consent of host states.
Several countries eventually signed on, but Barbados initially resisted, arguing that the arrangement raised serious concerns about sovereignty and the presence of foreign enforcement powers in its territorial space.
Today’s counter-cartel coalition - which speaks openly about mobilising partner militaries against criminal networks - inevitably revives similar sensitivities.
Some Caribbean governments are far more comfortable with deeper security cooperation with Washington than others, and arrangements of this nature risk widening policy gaps within Caricom itself.
The geopolitical dimension also cannot be ignored.
Jamaica recently found itself at the centre of a diplomatic dispute with Washington over the long-standing Cuban medical cooperation programme.
The US argued that Cuba’s overseas medical missions amounted to labour exploitation and warned that participating countries could face visa restrictions.
Kingston subsequently reviewed aspects of the programme and signalled adjustments just days after the Florida summit.
Against that backdrop, reports that Jamaica may now be considered for inclusion in the coalition inevitably raise questions about the diplomatic leverage that can accompany US security partnerships.
If individual states are drawn into such arrangements through separate diplomatic channels, the region’s ability to present a unified security posture becomes even more difficult.
None of this is to suggest that Trinidad and Tobago or Guyana acted unwisely in accepting Washington’s invitation. Governments must act based on their own national security realities.
But at a time when organised crime and geopolitical competition are reshaping the hemisphere, Caricom can ill afford deeper fragmentation.
