“In these tiny theatres of conflict and confusion, better known as the Isles of the West Indies”, as David Rudder has aptly described it, there are always concrete and distinct occurrences that reveal a deeper ideological and philosophical crisis, among our peoples, confirming that, Bob Marley’s epitaph of “our need to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery, as none but ourselves can free our mind”, is as great a need now as when he sung it in the 1970s.
Nowhere is this more revealing than in some of the commentaries on the CCJ saga from the news outlets within the Caribbean, which, in case you have not realised, have ensured that the Caribbean people have had a full and continuous diet of sensationalism and without any attendant investigative journalism that can assist in weeding out the fact from the fiction. This is particularly important in circumstances where the judiciary within any liberal democracy must always be integrity-based, impartial, without stain, and must maintain the confidence of the people it serves if it is to remain trusted by ordinary people as a fair broker in their disputes. The court’s role is not only to dispense justice but to ensure that there is even the appearance of justice.
But it is telling that this saga has received far more coverage than the court has received for its active contributions to developing Caribbean jurisprudence over its 20 years. Certainly, the clickbait and the negative press that it will draw have been more attractive than other “boring” and “mundane” coverage of seminal judgments and other related work of the court. It has certainly not been a proverbial case of success breeding many fathers, while failures ensure the continuation of the orphanage.
As such, this piece will not focus on the alleged facts and leaked images, which point to a deeper crisis of professionalism, or on allegations shared by media outlets. If one expects a judgement call on the existing factual matrix, there is no need to continue reading, as it will not provide one. Certainly, there must be a proper ventilation of these facts, such that a determination can be made on the veracity, as it is not prudent to provide judgement without hearing the full story, in much the same way that we operate in our interpersonal relationships and friendships.
Instead, what is equally concerning to me is the immediate anti-intellectual and “anti-Caribbean” reactions of certain demographics within the Caribbean civilisation. In the first group, there are segments of the political elite, in select Caribbean countries, who, as if, have been proverbially praying for a scandal to ensue to provide them, for the first time, with a “concrete” rationale to justify their pre-existing distaste and distrust of the Caribbean Court of Justice, that was based solely on conjecture, innuendo and speculation. That it may have concretised also does not mean it is justified or was ever valid. It is as if, because it emerged from Caribbean consciousness, psyche, and creative process, it is immediately fraught with unresolvable issues and is not worthy of acceptance and use by the Caribbean people, compared with the Privy Council. Deeper than this, though, they reflect what Greg Thomas has classified as “having a profound self-hatred exceeded only by an intense loathing of the black masses on top of flagrant, idolatrous imitation and revering of whiteness, or an abject conformity to white Western ideals”.
In fact, the abovementioned could be gleaned from their reaction. “You see” was their knee-jerk reaction, not a sense of disappointment or regret, or anger that the institution that the Caribbean has worked so tirelessly to craft in their likeness and image is within this spotlight. Instead, it was a sense of “validation”, or a “sigh of relief”. This is notwithstanding that they could not have pointed to anything within the 20 years. Now, the ‘anything’ in this instance should never be read as “disagreements with the judgments” of the Court, as this is not a valid basis for rejection of the court, as the court is not there to cosy up to the political elites’ fantasies.
In fact, it provided them with the first opportunity to finally have a citation for their claims that the court was ill-equipped to provide impartial and fair justice to the Caribbean, maintaining the highest standards of judicial independence and integrity, in comparison to their preferred choice, i.e., the “incorruptible” Privy Council, that is without any skirmish on its record, as defined by it being so far removed and uninterested in the Caribbean jurisprudential project.
But what is disingenuous about their argument is not only that they never had any intention of acceding to the Court, and therefore only utilising this as a fig leaf to ground their previous nonsensical basis for non-accession, particularly in circumstances where the local judiciary and other machineries of our states have the same inbuilt risks associated with the CCJ, but are not being disbanded. But a grave conflation is being made, wherein they believe accountability and participation are mutually exclusive, rather than mutually reinforcing. As such, being part of the Court, or even not being part of the Court but utilising this moment to galvanise what further reforms should be implemented to strengthen the Court, because we collectively agree on its importance, should be the response of the Caribbean integrationist. Put another way, the true Caribbean intellect and integrationist is defined by a collective ability to first accept and appreciate our indigenous institutions, while also being committed to resolving issues that have arisen, and also being committed to rebuilding them when they have apparently betrayed their vision, purpose and objectives. Is that the standard we would apply in the future, if unfortunately, any of the regional institutions fall into disrepute? Do we abandon the institutions that we have built with our bare hands and the inspiration and courage of our ancestors at the slightest inconvenience because it is easier to chastise than to reform?
What I do agree with them on, though, albeit it has appeared in the fine print of the discussion, is that there must have been a utilisation of all alternative remedies to deal with the issues identified, in circumstances where these allegations had any merit. Clearly, there is a wave from the North that seems to inspire Caribbean politicians and other officials alike, who seek to make public information that could be shared and resolved privately, because the sustainability and longevity of the institution in the wake of these dramatic charades and clickbait seem to be of no relevance to some actors. Clearly, we need a more sober and mature way to resolve our internal issues. This is a point I made in my recent address to the CARICOM Heads of Government in Saint Lucia.
But it cannot be that there are some who are part of the political elite, who sit in the proverbial stands or bleachers in our cricket games, arguing about everything that is apparently wrong with the players on the field, without any suggestions on how they can improve their technical skill set to be better representatives of the people of the region. In some instances, by also not volunteering themselves, when they are still within the age of playing, to be part of the starting eleven, to increase the legitimacy, guardrails and safety mechanisms of the Court. Instead, they prefer to be on the proverbial outside chastising because it absolves them of any responsibility to be part of the solutions.
Coupled with the above-mentioned is the unintelligent articulation of the case for the Privy Council, by suggesting that this ordeal demonstrated the need for us to have never acceded to the CCJ in the first place. The committed regionalist knows that a skirmish on the record does not nullify an organisation’s importance or contribution; it only highlights the ongoing need for accountability and reform. In much the same way, domestically we do not throw someone into the guillotine after they have contravened the law.
Underlying this anti-intellectual statement is the view that their distance means they can dispense justice fairly and impartially, as if the court has no ideological disposition or history. Not only is it a relic of our colonial past, which we should never loiter around, but it is also almost naïve and disingenuous to ignore the CCJ’s previous successes, its efficiency and effectiveness, and how ordinary people without the financial wherewithal can access justice. Moreover, it is significant to note the number of cases that end up at the appellate level of the JCPC, and the cross-section of individuals who could continue to access the court’s benefits. Additionally, Caribbean countries have already been investing in the CCJ and should thus capitalise on that existing investment in the first instance.
But what is even more ironic about the case for a return to the Privy Council in some quarters is not only that the JCPC has already told us before to chart a different path, but that the wider body politic of the UK has imposed entry visas on some Caribbean countries. As such, imagine having to get a visa to go to the country where you have to attend court, with no guarantees that you or your lawyer would get that visa for your case to be heard? We must therefore also look inwards, albeit for different reasons, and strengthen our institutions to better serve the people of the Caribbean. It must be done as a statement of confidence in the ability, skill, passion and dignity of our own people, especially in periods of adversity.
And enveloped within the “You See”, was a quiet disdain that suggested that, because of this, we would not accede, or should not accede, as if there is an infallible institution within the world that they are waiting for, and that this would be when they would accede. It is akin to an internal colonial psychosis that suggested that our Independence should be deferred because we were “not ready”, or alternatively, suggested that our current independence is not to be treasured, and it is as if we would have been better off being dependencies or colonies of the United Kingdom or France because there have been missteps and mishaps during our period of independence.
As if there is ever a time of readiness for us to continue our decolonisation process, but also, the more technical questions of who, what, how and where would determine readiness? It is important that citizens have a critical eye on this tactic of the ever-shifting goalpost on some of these issues of decolonisation, regional integration and sovereignty, such that it is always “never the right time”, and there being no clear intention, litmus test, or considerations for what the appropriate time would look like. Instead, a false binary is always presented: putting economics before questions of justice. Appended, though, to the above-mentioned is a much deeper belief that there is no appetite for such an accession from some of the members of the political elite in some countries, but only a penchant and ability to latch onto issues from the court to solidify their lack of appetite, to which we must continually respond.
In the end, part of the calamity is that the defenders of the court and the wider Caribbean integration project must stand up and still demand accountability, while still preaching the importance of the court to ordinary people of the Caribbean. To do so, would demonstrate what Toussaint L’Ouverture suggested, that “they may have cut the branches but the roots run deep”, and that even in times of disappointment, the Caribbean people must choose themselves and their institutions, even while holding them accountable, as opposed to searching outside for some benevolent big brother or sister whom we believe will come to rescue us from the tyranny of “ourselves”. There is too much talent resident within the Caribbean for us to continually be looking upon former colonial masters for validation and to run our affairs, as if we are incapable or insufficient, even when errors are made along the way. There must not be a permitting of some to dominate the discourse, particularly in circumstances where their aim in engaging in the conversation is only to make it seem as if they were so invested in the Court when their actions have only demonstrated a lack of interest or belief in the promise of the Court and the Caribbean.
Rahym R. Augustin‑Joseph, the 2024 Rhodes Scholar for the Commonwealth Caribbean, is currently pursuing a Master of Public Policy at the Blavatnik School of Government, University of Oxford. He holds two First Class Honours degrees in Political Science and Law from the UWI Cave Hill Campus. An award‑winning debater, public speaker, youth leader, and advocate, Rahym is passionate about law, politics, and governance, and is committed to shaping the future of Saint Lucia and the wider Caribbean.
Sir, the pussyfooting employed by those who view accession to the CCJ as a miss step stems from their very lack of belief in themselves and thus, their very prevarications becomes a self fulfilling prophecy where any alleged fault by the CCJ to them appears like a huge harvest moon suspended over the horizon of the Caribbean Sea. If black excellence is anything to go by, they should look at the successes we have attained despite the geo- politico machinations of others. We as a people have endured insurmountable challenges but STILL WE RISE to use the poetic sentiments of the great writer Maya Angelou. My greatest fear is that by delaying Caribbean integration we miss an opportunity to shape our collective destinies and which, by the time we wake up from our laconic slumber, 60 years would have elapsed. Our Caribbean Civilization’s time is now. Let’s work to make this region a beacon of prosperity, peace and democracy. One Caribbean.
Sir, Congratulations on that great speech you delivered at the Caribbean Heads of Government.
I have now read the latest contribution defending the Caribbean Court of Justice, and I find myself agreeing with some of it while disagreeing rather strongly with other parts.
Let me start with what I agree with.
If the allegations contained in the leaked CCJ correspondence are genuine, they are serious. If judges of the Court really felt that there was “authoritarian” or “dictatorial” behaviour, panel fixing, inappropriate interference in judgments or political intervention, then these matters deserve a proper, independent investigation.
No serious person should pronounce the President of the CCJ guilty on the basis of leaked emails.
But equally, no serious person should pronounce the allegations irrelevant simply because the CCJ is a Caribbean institution.
And this is where the argument starts to lose me.
Apparently, questioning the CCJ demonstrates “self-hatred”, “loathing of the black masses”, “revering whiteness” and even an “internal colonial psychosis”.
Good heavens.
Isn’t there another possibility?
Perhaps some people simply believe that a court should be judged by the quality of its judges, the independence of its decisions, its institutional safeguards and the confidence it commands from the public.
Perhaps the colour of the judges is not the most important consideration.
That should not be a particularly radical proposition.
The suggestion that people who favour the Privy Council are somehow yearning for white colonial masters is particularly weak.
The Privy Council should be judged on its record, just as the CCJ should be judged on its record.
And the Privy Council isn’t simply a bunch of white Englishmen sitting in London. Senior Caribbean judges have sat on the Judicial Committee. The institution has deliberately maintained participation by judges from its jurisdictions, including the Caribbean. Former Eastern Caribbean Chief Justice Dame Janice Pereira has sat with the JCPC, while former Cayman Islands Chief Justice Sir Anthony Smellie was appointed to the Privy Council in 2025.
So let’s put the racial argument to one side.
If the CCJ is good, it is good because it is independent, competent and trustworthy.
If the Privy Council is good, it is good for the same reasons.
A court doesn’t become better because its judges are black, and it doesn’t become worse because some of them are white.
This really shouldn’t be controversial.
This is where the author’s argument becomes rather selective.
Saint Lucia’s move from the Privy Council to the CCJ was not the result of a referendum of the Saint Lucian people.
The Government’s position was that a referendum was not constitutionally required. It had legal advice supporting that interpretation, and Parliament ultimately passed the necessary constitutional amendment by the required special majority. The Government had the numbers to do it. Indeed, the Government’s own record says the Pierre administration had been elected with a two-thirds majority.
But here’s the point.
Just because you can do something constitutionally does not necessarily mean that you have made the best democratic decision.
The Opposition had called for a referendum.
The Government could have said: “Fine. Let’s ask the people.”
It could have put the issue beyond argument.
Instead, it chose to contest the constitutional interpretation and proceed through Parliament.
That was legally defensible according to the Government’s interpretation.
But was it democratically wise?
That is a perfectly legitimate question.
And there is something particularly uncomfortable about being told that those who question the decision are somehow suffering from colonial mental slavery when the people themselves were never given the opportunity to say directly which court they wanted as their final court of appeal.
The issue was important enough to change the Constitution.
Surely it was important enough to ask the people.
And who were the people making that argument?
Kenny Anthony, the former SLP Prime Minister, was one of the early architects of the CCJ initiative and was deeply involved in the move towards the regional court. The Government itself records that the process towards Saint Lucia’s accession began under his administration some 20 years earlier.
Mario Michel presents an even more interesting example.
Before becoming a senior regional judge, Michel was a prominent SLP politician. He represented Gros Islet in Parliament and served as a Cabinet Minister and Deputy Prime Minister in the Kenny Anthony administration. He later became a judge of the Eastern Caribbean Supreme Court and ultimately Acting Chief Justice.
None of this means that Mario Michel is not an independent judge.
It doesn’t mean Kenny Anthony was wrong about the CCJ.
And it certainly doesn’t mean that every Caribbean judge is politically compromised.
But it does illustrate something that should be obvious to anyone who knows the Caribbean.
Our societies are tiny.
Politicians know lawyers.
Lawyers know judges.
Former politicians become judges.
Judges sit with other Caribbean judges whom they may have known professionally or personally for decades.
None of that proves anything improper.
But it does mean that institutional safeguards, transparency and public confidence matter enormously.
The author invokes the idea of Caribbean people suffering from colonial thinking.
I would turn the analogy around.
George Orwell’s Animal Farm was not really about the colour of the animals. It was about the danger of replacing one ruling elite with another while convincing everybody that nothing fundamental had changed.
That seems a rather more useful lesson for the Caribbean.
We shouldn’t replace “British knows best” with “Caribbean intellectual knows best.”
Neither should be acceptable.
The ordinary citizen should be allowed to ask questions of both.
The author raises concerns about the credibility of Caribbean institutions while seemingly overlooking the enormous problem of public confidence in our own political systems.
Saint Lucians regularly see political campaigns that appear to cost extraordinary sums of money.
We see major political launches and rallies involving large crowds, stages, sound systems, transport, advertising and organisation. When figures in the region’s political campaigns are alleged to run into hundreds of thousands of Eastern Caribbean dollars, ordinary people are entitled to ask a very simple question:
Who is paying for all of this?
That is not a stupid question.
It is not anti-Caribbean.
It is not colonial.
It is democracy.
If our working population is relatively small and average incomes are modest, where does the money come from?
Who funds political campaigns?
What do donors expect in return?
Who receives government contracts after elections?
Who benefits from direct awards?
What relationships exist between politicians, developers, contractors, lawyers and other professionals?
These questions matter because political money buys influence everywhere in the world.
And the Caribbean is hardly immune.
Saint Lucia has had its share of political controversies involving allegations of influence, contracts, public money and the relationship between politicians and the legal system.
We have even seen allegations involving senior political figures that have made their way into international diplomatic reporting.
Take Richard Frederick.
A 2006 US diplomatic cable published by WikiLeaks described Frederick, then a political candidate, as being suspected by US and Saint Lucian law-enforcement authorities of involvement in drug trafficking. It is important to say very clearly what that means: it was an allegation contained in diplomatic and law-enforcement reporting, not a judicial finding of guilt.
Fast forward twenty years and Frederick is now a senior Government minister.
On July 2, 2026, the Government confirmed that he had been detained for questioning in an ongoing matter and subsequently released. The Government said it would not comment further while the matter remained active. Frederick himself subsequently said he had “nothing to fear.”
Again, nobody should pronounce him guilty.
But equally, nobody should tell citizens that they are irrational for asking questions.
Public confidence is not created by pretending uncomfortable things aren’t happening.
It is created by investigating them properly.
And this is precisely why the leaked CCJ correspondence matters.
The answer isn’t to say:
“We finally have our own Caribbean court, so shut up and support it.”
The answer is:
“We finally have our own Caribbean court. Therefore we must demand that it meets the highest possible standards.”
If the allegations are false, establish that.
If they are true, fix the problem.
If the system needs stronger safeguards, strengthen them.
That is what mature institutions do.
There is another issue that I find strangely absent from much of this intellectual discussion.
Why has the United Kingdom imposed visas on Saint Lucians?
Was it because Britain suddenly developed a dislike of Caribbean people?
No.
The British Government has actually explained itself.
Its 2026 immigration memorandum describes Saint Lucia’s Citizenship by Investment programme as “inherently high-risk” and says that such programmes can be vulnerable to exploitation by criminal actors. It specifically refers to the historic sale of large volumes of citizenships and passports and notes that Saint Lucia received approximately 5,642 applications in 2023–24—a 423% annual increase.
That is an extraordinary statement.
The British Government is effectively saying that it has a problem with the credibility and risk profile of a system operated by the Government of Saint Lucia.
And now Saint Lucians have lost visa-free access to Britain.
So perhaps the question isn’t simply:
“Why don’t we trust the Privy Council?”
Perhaps another question is:
“Why has Britain stopped trusting the Saint Lucian passport?”
Those are two very different questions.
For years we have been told that the Citizenship by Investment Programme is a wonderful economic success.
Fine.
But if the programme is so successful, why are ordinary Saint Lucians now paying the price for it?
The lawyers and agents handling applications earn their fees.
The Government earns hundreds of millions.
Developers and other participants in the programme make money.
But the ordinary Saint Lucian now needs a visa to visit Britain.
And potentially, depending on what happens with the European Union, may face further restrictions on access to Europe.
So who exactly is benefiting?
That is not an anti-CIP question.
It is a perfectly reasonable taxpayer question.
And perhaps we should ask one more.
Is it really so far-fetched to imagine that a foreign government might want to acquire citizenship for selected individuals who would otherwise have difficulty entering another country?
Is it really impossible that a sophisticated criminal organisation might seek passports for members precisely because those passports make travel easier?
The British Government certainly seems to think the risks are serious enough to worry about. Its own explanatory memorandum explicitly refers to the vulnerability of CBI programmes to exploitation by criminal actors.
That doesn’t mean Saint Lucia has sold passports to criminals.
It means that the risk exists.
And when a country issues thousands of passports to people who have no previous connection with the country, other governments are entitled to ask very hard questions about who those people are and what those passports might subsequently be used for.
So let’s stop confusing confidence with blind faith.
I am perfectly happy to support Caribbean institutions.
I am perfectly happy to support the CCJ if it demonstrates the independence and integrity expected of a final court.
I am perfectly happy to support Saint Lucia’s sovereignty.
But sovereignty does not mean immunity from criticism.
Independence does not mean immunity from scrutiny.
And being Caribbean does not mean that every Caribbean institution is automatically better than a foreign one.
If anything, being genuinely independent means that we should be confident enough to examine our own institutions with the same critical eye we apply to everybody else.
We should be able to say:
This is our court—and therefore we demand that it be beyond reproach.
This is our Government—and therefore we demand to know who funds it.
This is our CIP—and therefore we demand to know who is buying our citizenship, how they are being vetted and what the programme is doing to the reputation of our passport.
And if somebody responds that asking these questions demonstrates “self-hatred”, perhaps the problem isn’t the questions.
Perhaps the problem is that they don’t like the answers.
That, surely, is the real test of intellectual independence.
Bravo Gayabois Balca, a very fine exposition.