CARICOM’s Silence Is Loud — And the Region Is Not Blind

When CARICOM released its carefully worded statement following reports of military action involving Venezuela, it did what it has mastered over the years: said much without saying anything at all.

“Actively monitoring.”
“Grave concern.”
“Will continue to update.”

To the ordinary Caribbean citizen, especially those in small, vulnerable states like Saint Lucia, this language feels hollow—almost rehearsed.

And in the context of the latest geopolitical posture emerging from Donald Trump and the renewed hard-line stance toward Venezuela, CARICOM’s response is not just inadequate—it is deeply troubling.

Let’s be clear: Venezuela is not a distant conflict for the Caribbean. It is our neighbor, our trading partner, our energy supplier, and in many ways, a political pressure point that larger global powers use to test influence in the hemisphere.

Any escalation—military or otherwise—has direct implications for the Eastern Caribbean:

• Migration pressures
• Energy instability
• Security risks
• Diplomatic fallout

Yet CARICOM’s posture remains reactive, not strategic. It watches events unfold after decisions are already made 

Donald Trump’s renewed influence on U.S. foreign policy brings with it a familiar pattern:
maximum pressure, minimal consultation, and little regard for small states caught in the middle.

This is not speculation—it is precedent.

Under Trump, Venezuela was treated as a chessboard square, not a sovereign nation within a fragile regional ecosystem. Sanctions were imposed. Tensions escalated. And the Caribbean absorbed the consequences quietly.

Now, with history threatening to repeat itself, CARICOM offers no unified position, no red lines, no assertive defense of regional sovereignty—only another promise to “monitor.”

At what point does “monitoring” become abdication?

CARICOM was created to amplify Caribbean voices, not to issue diplomatic placeholders while global powers dictate outcomes that affect our shores. Leadership requires more than statements—it requires clarity, courage, and coordination.

Where is the regional strategy? Where is the firm stance against unilateral military action in our hemisphere? Where is the assurance to Caribbean people that their leaders are not merely spectators?

From a Choiseul-on-the-Move perspective, this moment demands honesty.

Small states cannot afford weak regional leadership. When global giants clash, it is small communities that feel the shockwaves first—through fuel prices, food costs, and social strain.

CARICOM must decide whether it exists to manage press releases or to defend Caribbean interests.

Because silence dressed up as diplomacy is still silence.

And the people of this region are watching too.