Jamaica Is Not Your Carry-On Luggage, Andrew

By Dennis A. Minott, PhD

October 28, 2026

Jamaica Cannot Fit In a Suitcase

Outrage is no longer adequate. My aghastness now requires its own ministry, two consultants and a supplementary estimate. Caribbean solidarity has apparently been sent to Departures. Kindly check the diplomatic pouch for the regional backbone.

The occasion is not imaginary. Prime Minister Kamla Persad-Bissessar has defended Trinidad and Tobago’s vote against the United Nations resolution calling for an end to the American embargo on Cuba. Her declared grounds include democracy, freedom and human rights. She has also endorsed Marco Rubio’s position.[ttt]

Democracy! An excellent principle. Let us apply it consistently, rather than bringing it out like the good crockery whenever Washington comes to dinner.

Here is my objection. Opposition to Cuba’s political repression does not oblige a Caribbean government to defend the embargo. Those are different judgements. A government claiming to act for Cuban freedom must explain why this particular policy serves that freedom. Invoking the word “democracy” is not an answer. It is the beginning of the examination.

Instead, we are offered a familiar diplomatic convenience: announce a noble objective, attach it to a powerful friend’s preferred policy, and invite everyone to admire the principle without inspecting the attachment.

Dis a nuh independence. A borrowed position does not become sovereign merely because we deliver it in our own accent.

Let us dispose of the compulsory distraction. Cubans deserve political freedom. Their government deserves scrutiny and criticism. Neither proposition requires us to applaud every measure Washington favours. Havana does not own the meaning of solidarity; Washington does not own the meaning of liberty.

A Caribbean mind should be capable of holding both thoughts without requesting overseas technical assistance.

That is why this vote angers me. A regional leader has presented opposition to the resolution as a defence of democracy. I regard that choice as an abandonment of Cuba—not an endorsement of every act of its government, but an abandonment of the distinction between a people and their rulers.

Solidarity need not mean silence about repression. It should mean refusing to make ordinary people disappear behind an argument about the government above them.

Nor does solidarity require automatic agreement among Caribbean states. It requires something more demanding: reasons that survive scrutiny without a powerful patron standing beside them.

Mrs Persad-Bissessar has supplied her reasons. They deserve an answer, not a diplomatic curtsy.

And Andrew, before anyone files this under “Trinidad business”, Jamaica has questions of its own to answer. So does every government that speaks for a Caribbean people while cultivating the friendship of a much larger power.

Whose judgement is being exercised? Which interests are being advanced? What principle would remain unchanged if the invitation, the photograph and the approving handshake were withdrawn?

These are not questions against diplomacy. They are questions against confusing diplomacy with social promotion.

The Gold Frame Can't Explain

Access is useful. Influence must be demonstrated. Neither should be measured by the distance between a minister’s chair and somebody important’s elbow.

In my imaginary regional finishing school, the first lesson is entitled How to Recognise Your Own Foreign Policy. Candidates receive three statements: one from their electorate, one from their Cabinet and one from Washington. They must explain their decision without pointing admiringly at the third sheet.

Those who fail proceed to the advanced seminar: Strategic Partnership—How to Bow Without Spilling the Sovereignty.

Andrew takes the practical examination. Juliet rises to protect the dignity of the proceedings. Kamina prepares a communiqué so exquisitely balanced that nobody can locate the decision.

The examiner asks: “What would Jamaica say if nobody powerful were listening?”

There is a short adjournment.

Then a longer one.

This is satire, not a claim about a secret instruction or an undisclosed bargain. The public question is sufficient: can our leaders explain their choices in terms that place Caribbean people, rather than proximity to power, at the centre?

No invented conspiracy is required. The stated argument is available for inspection.

The small-state temptation is not merely to obey. It is to experience approval as proof of judgement. One flattering reception, one photograph, one invitation to the right room—and suddenly an uncomfortable policy begins to look like statesmanship.

The national interest acquires a boarding pass. Public explanation remains outside, looking for parking.

Meanwhile, those of us asking questions are invited to choose a uniform. Are you with Havana or Washington? Do you support freedom or dictatorship?

What a marvellously convenient examination: only two answers, both supplied by the examiner.

I decline.

I can oppose repression in Cuba without accepting that the embargo is therefore wise or just. I can value relations with the United States without believing that friendship requires intellectual surrender. I can expect Caribbean governments to exercise independent judgement without demanding that they agree with me on every vote.

What I cannot accept is the suggestion that saying “democracy” ends the argument.

It should intensify it.

Democracy means that leaders owe explanations to the people in whose name they act. An election gives an administration authority to govern; it does not transfer ownership of the country, its conscience or its international voice.

That is the connection between foreign policy and the ballot box. Not an allegation that somebody plans to overturn an election. Not a fictional escape itinerary. Something more immediate: public office is held on trust.

No colour owns the flag. No family owns the chamber. No minister’s international friendships outrank the obligation to account to Jamaicans.

And no leader becomes the Caribbean’s conscience merely by finding a powerful government with which to agree.

The same standard must apply to opposition parties. Independence is not a costume to be worn until office supplies a more flattering wardrobe. Those condemning deference today must be prepared to resist its comforts tomorrow.

So let us hear a serious defence of this abandonment of Cuba. Not a recital of admirable nouns. Not a certificate of friendship with Washington. Explain how the policy serves the people whose freedom is invoked. Explain why solidarity and criticism could not have occupied the same vote.

Until then, spare us the ceremonial thunder about sovereignty.

We need no hostility towards America to insist on self-respect. We need no romance about Havana to remember the humanity of Cubans. And we need no permission from either capital to think.

Andrew, Kamla and every other custodian of Caribbean office should remember the distinction: you represent a people; you do not possess them.

Keep the international friendships. Make the diplomatic journeys. Bring home an argument that can stand without the photograph.

But leave our judgement, our dignity and our right to question you firmly in the hands of the people.

Jamaica is not your carry-on luggage, Andrew.

AND derive no life-lesson from Bolsonaro 1.0 OR Bolsonaro 2.0 especially with any allegedly aligned purposes via Vernam Field then by TWOV through the backmost servants' gate of Mar a Lago, Sirs and Mesdames.