To be a Caribbean leader in the age of Donald Trump is to be a portrait of powerlessness — and a harbinger of the unvarnished might-makes-right global order the U.S. president is shaping.
Trump is building up America’s military presence in the Caribbean, blowing up alleged drug boats as part of an anti-cartel campaign in the region, and threatening regime change in Venezuela. Charred bodies are washing up on Caribbean shores. Tourism, fishing and other parts of the regional economy could suffer if this campaign drags on. Caribbean officials also worry about the impact on migrant flows, even though some publicly support the U.S. efforts.
Yet, many Caribbean leaders can barely get U.S. officials to talk to them about their plans, much less heed such long-term fears. The relatively few conversations held have been more akin to notification than consultation, one former Caribbean diplomat in touch with inside players told me.
A person familiar with the U.S.-Caribbean discussions said Caribbean representatives are privately urging U.S. officials to do what they have to do “but to do it quickly,” with the hope that speed will cause less instability.
What else can these countries do? They have no real leverage over Washington. Instead, they count on the United States for tourism dollars, remittances, investment and, in some cases, protection from a potential Venezuelan invasion.
“We don’t have armies, we don’t have economic clout, we don’t have military might,” Ronald Sanders, Antigua and Barbuda’s ambassador in the U.S., told me. “Our diplomacy can only be reasoned argument, intellectual rigor, moral suasion and we use that as best we can. But at the end of the day our leverage is oddly that — only an appeal to the better angels of your soul.”
Big countries have always dominated smaller ones, of course. (Hat tip: Thucydides.) And the Caribbean is used to having limited heft with U.S. presidents, including Trump’s predecessor, Joe Biden. The region is rarely a top U.S. priority.
But Trump’s display of power in the Caribbean is so dismissive and unbridled that it could damage the concept that smaller states have rights on the global stage — an idea upon which many post-World War II international institutions were built.
Under Trump, smaller, less-wealthy countries — be they in the Caribbean, Africa or beyond — cannot necessarily rely on more powerful allies for help; those allies know Trump could punish them too. Trump also cares little about international law, longstanding treaties or multilateral institutions. (This is a man who recently raised tariffs on Canada by 10 percent because he was mad about a commercial.) His team is also happy to exploit divisions among other countries.
The result could be a much more brutish world, where big powers steamroll smaller ones whose fortunes are often tied to whichever bully has staked a claim to their region. Countries such as Russia and China could feel more empowered to follow the U.S. approach in their own neighborhoods.
When I reached out to officials from France, the Netherlands and Britain, European countries with sovereignty over some Caribbean territories, they made it clear they were not going to make a big deal about the U.S. military action in the Caribbean with Washington. It just wasn’t worth the hassle, no matter what’s written in some international legal charter, one of the officials told me.
“You pick your battles with this administration, and you focus your efforts on where your national interests lie,” one of the officials told me. “This is a highly complex policy from a legal standpoint, but I don’t think the U.S. actions fundamentally threaten European national interests.”
Asked why they didn’t care more about such U.S. unilateralism, the European official replied: “I’m being realpolitik.”
Caribbean countries see little benefit in turning to venues such as the United Nations or the Organization of American States, although Venezuela is trying. The U.S. plays a powerful role in such institutions, often acting as a roadblock, and Trump will ignore any opprobrium that comes from them anyway.
As the former Caribbean diplomat told me: “The U.S. is doing whatever the hell it wants. There’s no pretense anymore at altruism in the conduct of international relations.” I granted this person, and others, anonymity to talk about sensitive diplomatic issues.
Caribbean countries are also unable to form a united front against Trump, adding to his power advantage.
Those divisions are apparent when you read the Oct. 18 statement from the regional grouping known as Caricom. The statement hinted at reservations about the U.S. campaign and stressed that battling regional crime “should be through ongoing international cooperation and within international law.” But its extremely cautious wording — which effectively rendered it toothless — was a result of intense haggling among countries with varying national interests.
The one country that didn’t sign on to the statement was Trinidad and Tobago. The country has faced a surge in murder and other violent crimes linked to organized groups, to the point where it declared a state of emergency in 2024. Its prime minister, Kamla Persad-Bissessar, has championed Trump’s military campaign as a way to clamp down on gangs, traffickers and other menaces in the region.
Guyana signed the statement, but it has suggested it supports the U.S. moves because of worries about crime. Guyana’s leaders also don’t want to upset Trump because they are counting on U.S. military protection in case Venezuelan dictator Nicolás Maduro makes good on threats to invade Guyana.
Caribbean countries are weighing other concerns, too. Few, if any, care for Maduro, whose regime has fueled migration, crime and other regional challenges. Yet many Caribbean states worry that forcing Maduro out could spur more chaos in their area. Some, such as Trinidad and Tobago, Guyana and Suriname, are counting on U.S. guidance in helping develop oil and other energy sources. And many in the Caribbean want to keep the U.S. engaged in stabilizing Haiti.
In fact, the person familiar with the U.S.-Caribbean discussions told me that the divisions within Caricom have essentially “neutralized” it.
Trump and his aides — including Secretary of State Marco Rubio, a key driver behind the current military campaign — are not reacting kindly to open criticism.
Colombia’s president, Gustavo Petro, has been highly critical of the boat strikes, especially after the U.S. killed a person Petro insisted was an innocent Colombian fisherman in a stranded boat. In response, Trump imposed sanctions on Petro and his family and accused Petro of being a drug trafficker. He has also threatened U.S. aid to Colombia, a stunning move against one of America’s top partners in South America.
One complaint I heard in talking to Caribbean officials was that the U.S. didn’t seem to have a clear timeline or endgame for its operations, which recently have expanded to striking boats in the Pacific. It’s not that there haven’t been conversations since the military buildup began — the outgoing chief of U.S. Southern Command recently did a Caribbean swing. Overall, though, the diplomatic engagement has been paltry since the strikes began in early September.
The White House did not offer specific answers to my questions about engaging the Caribbean. “The president will continue to use every element of American power to stop drugs from flooding into our country and to bring those responsible to justice,” spokesperson Anna Kelly said in a statement similar to what the White House has sent to other media.
The U.S. bigfooting of the Caribbean is no doubt being watched by other major international players.
China and Russia will likely notice that “Trump is reorienting U.S. military force to the near neighborhood,” said Tom Shannon, a former senior State Department official. “It means that this is where the U.S. wants to fight, in our near neighborhood, not far away.”
This is not a good sign for Taiwan, Ukraine or even Estonia. It further reinforces the sense among many of America’s allies that Trump won’t come to their aid. It also suggests that Trump subscribes to the “spheres of influence” theory of global order, where the U.S., Russia and China can romp freely in their neighborhoods.
Caribbean countries wary of American bullying may turn more to China in particular. This is also bad for Taiwan. Several of the dozen countries that offer Taiwan full diplomatic recognition are in the Caribbean, and they may drop that as a gift to Beijing.
For China, another benefit of Trump’s actions is that it can continue to sell itself as a responsible global player and champion of multilateral institutions, claims that are suspect at best.
Caribbean leaders worry that the longer the U.S. military operation lasts, the more it will upset their citizens, especially if the economy suffers. Some Caribbean citizens have already held protests over the U.S. operations, including one in Trinidad and Tobago, where a U.S. warship has docked.
That’s the main reason regional leaders, knowing they can’t stop the U.S. operation, are hoping it will be swift.
“As they consider the U.S. military buildup an indication of U.S. administration resolve, a quick move is widely regarded as the least worst scenario,” one senior Caribbean official told me.
I laughed at the phrase “administration resolve.”
It was a nice euphemism for Trump doing whatever he wants.
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