In this mo­ment of glob­al un­cer­tain­ty and re­gion­al un­ease, the Caribbean again stands at a cross­roads. The world’s at­ten­tion has turned to­ward our basin, a space once de­fined by shared strug­gle and hope, now caught in the un­der­tow of geopo­lit­i­cal con­tention. Dif­fer­ing opin­ions have emerged among our lead­ers con­cern­ing the pres­ence and ac­tions of the Unit­ed States with­in the Caribbean space, and by ex­ten­sion, the com­plex re­la­tion­ships with Venezuela, Guyana, Grena­da, St Vin­cent and the Grenadines and Trinidad and To­ba­go.

Yet, be­yond the state­ments, be­yond the flags and the poli­cies, lies a sober­ing truth: when the dust set­tles, and it will, we still have to live side by side as Caribbean neigh­bours.

His­to­ry has shown that our great­est strength as a re­gion has nev­er been our size or our economies but our sol­i­dar­i­ty. The same spir­it that once pro­pelled us to in­de­pen­dence, to re­gion­al co­op­er­a­tion, to shared growth and hu­man de­vel­op­ment, must now rise again. It is in this mo­ment that Cari­com must not frac­ture, but for­ti­fy.

We must re­mem­ber that this re­gion, our Caribbean basin, is more than a col­lec­tion of is­lands and main­land ter­ri­to­ries. It is a neigh­bour­hood, bound by her­itage, by the sea, and by the un­mis­tak­able rhythm of Caribbean iden­ti­ty. In times of ten­sion, we must nev­er lose sight of that truth.

The sov­er­eign­ty of each mem­ber state is sa­cred and must al­ways be re­spect­ed. That re­spect, how­ev­er, does not di­min­ish our re­gion­al broth­er­hood; it strength­ens it. Our fore­fa­thers did not en­vi­sion a Caribbean di­vid­ed by geopol­i­tics but rather a Caribbean bound by pur­pose, one in which uni­ty is not a slo­gan but a way of life.

In this light, the broth­er­ly and sis­ter­ly love among our na­tions must stand as the gold­en thread that sews the ta­pes­try of re­gion­al uni­ty to­geth­er. Even amidst dif­fer­ing per­spec­tives on for­eign in­volve­ment, our shared des­tiny can­not be un­stitched by po­lit­i­cal dis­course. We may dis­agree on ap­proach, but we must not dis­agree on iden­ti­ty.

Cari­com is not mere­ly a mech­a­nism of gov­er­nance, it is a liv­ing tes­ta­ment to the Caribbean spir­it. It was born from a be­lief that to­geth­er we are stronger, safer, and more sus­tain­able. Now more than ever, that be­lief must be rekin­dled.

The world is watch­ing. As glob­al pow­ers ma­noeu­vre for in­flu­ence and re­sources, the Caribbean must not be­come a ca­su­al­ty of ex­ter­nal agen­das. In­stead, we must be­come a mod­el of in­ter­nal strength and diplo­mat­ic bal­ance. This is the time for bridge-build­ing, not wall-rais­ing.

Our lead­ers are called to move be­yond rhetoric and reaf­firm the Cari­com ethos, to en­gage, to di­a­logue, to seek con­sen­sus, and to pri­ori­tise the wel­fare of the Caribbean peo­ple above po­lit­i­cal align­ment or for­eign per­sua­sion.

Break­ing walls means dis­man­tling bar­ri­ers of mis­trust and mis­un­der­stand­ing be­tween mem­ber states. It means stand­ing shoul­der to shoul­der, even when our po­si­tions dif­fer. Build­ing bridges means in­vest­ing in re­gion­al co­op­er­a­tion, en­hanc­ing trade con­nec­tiv­i­ty, se­cu­ri­ty col­lab­o­ra­tion, en­er­gy re­silience, and cli­mate adap­ta­tion. It means craft­ing a Caribbean that can with­stand ex­ter­nal pres­sures be­cause it is re­in­forced from with­in.

A “Cari­com First” phi­los­o­phy does not call for iso­la­tion or con­fronta­tion. It calls for clar­i­ty of vi­sion and uni­ty of pur­pose. It means that while each na­tion will pur­sue its sov­er­eign in­ter­ests, those in­ter­ests should nev­er come at the cost of re­gion­al sta­bil­i­ty.

The mo­bil­i­sa­tion of our lead­er­ship, both po­lit­i­cal and civ­il, must now fo­cus on the fol­low­ing.

Di­a­logue over di­vi­sion: Cre­at­ing hon­est and con­tin­u­ous spaces for dis­cus­sion among lead­ers, even on con­tentious is­sues, ground­ed in mu­tu­al re­spect. Col­lec­tive se­cu­ri­ty and Sov­er­eign­ty: Strength­en­ing re­gion­al de­fence, in­tel­li­gence shar­ing, and diplo­ma­cy, while safe­guard­ing the sov­er­eign­ty of every na­tion. Hu­man­i­tar­i­an and eco­nom­ic co­op­er­a­tion: Lever­ag­ing Cari­com’s col­lec­tive re­sources to en­sure food, wa­ter, and en­er­gy se­cu­ri­ty for all mem­bers.

Cul­tur­al and faith-based uni­ty: Recog­nis­ing that our shared val­ues, faith tra­di­tions, and her­itage re­main the un­break­able link be­tween our peo­ples.

To put Cari­com first is to place the peo­ple first, the fish­er­man in Grena­da, the farmer in St Vin­cent, the teacher in Bar­ba­dos, the en­gi­neer in Trinidad, the stu­dent in Guyana. It is to re­mem­ber that po­lit­i­cal align­ment fades, but re­gion­al kin­ship en­dures.

In this cli­mate of un­cer­tain­ty, what the Caribbean needs most are lead­ers of con­science and con­vic­tion. Lead­ers who un­der­stand that his­to­ry will not judge us by the side we chose, but by the bridges we built.

We must rise above the noise of con­tention and em­brace the mu­sic of col­lab­o­ra­tion. We must trade sus­pi­cion for sol­i­dar­i­ty, pride for part­ner­ship, and hes­i­ta­tion for hope. The Caribbean’s des­tiny is not to be de­fined by ex­ter­nal pow­er plays, but by in­ter­nal uni­ty and pur­pose. Ours is a sto­ry of re­silience, re­demp­tion, and re­la­tion­ship, one that has en­dured coloni­sa­tion, storms, and set­backs, yet al­ways emerged with faith in­tact and hope alive.

At the end of it all, when the storms pass and the head­lines fade, we will still live to­geth­er in this Cari­com neigh­bour­hood. The winds may shift, al­liances may change, but the Caribbean re­mains our home, one sea, one peo­ple, one des­tiny.

Let the voice of wis­dom now echo through our lead­er­ship cir­cles. Break walls. Build bridges. Strength­en uni­ty. Guard sov­er­eign­ty. Put Cari­com first.

For, in do­ing so, we not on­ly pre­serve our na­tions, we pre­serve our Caribbean iden­ti­ty, our peace, and our promise to fu­ture gen­er­a­tions.