CARICOM’s Animal Farm? – Why The Caribbean Is United in Rhetoric, Divided In Reality
By Keith Bernard
News Americas, NEW YORK, NY, Weds. Jan. 21, 2026: For years, Caribbean leaders have insisted that CARICOM is a unified bloc – one region, one people, one destiny. Yet the region continues to function less like a cohesive community and more like a heterogeneous animal farm, where each member state is a different creature with its own instincts, vulnerabilities, and survival strategies.
An aerial view shows the US SLake Erie (front), a US Navy Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser, and the USS Iwo Jima, a US Navy Wasp-class amphibious assault ship, docked at the port of Ponce, Puerto Rico, on January 15, 2026. (Photo by Ricardo ARDUENGO / AFP via Getty Images)
The recent decision by the United States to pause immigrant visa processing for selected CARICOM states is a perfect illustration of this unevenness. On a truly homogeneous farm, external actors would treat all animals the same. But Washington’s selective restrictions exposed the uncomfortable truth: some CARICOM members are seen as low‑risk partners, others as high‑risk; some are treated with diplomatic leniency, others with suspicion.
The region’s response was equally fragmented – some governments protested loudly, others remained silent, and a few quietly calculated how the pause might shift migration flows in their favor. A homogeneous bloc would have spoken with one voice; instead, each animal reacted according to its own fears and interests.
These disparities run deeper than immigration policy. They shape trade negotiations, climate diplomacy, security cooperation, and even the pace of economic reform. Larger economies push for liberalization that suits their scale; smaller ones cling to protective measures to avoid being trampled. Resource‑rich states speak confidently about regional energy security, while import‑dependent ones worry about exposure. Political stability varies widely, as do fiscal capacities and institutional strength. To pretend these differences do not exist is to ignore the very anatomy of the farm.
This is why CARICOM so often moves in fits and starts. A homogeneous animal farm could march in one direction because its creatures share the same instincts. But a heterogeneous one pulls in multiple directions, each animal tugging toward its own feeding trough. Integration becomes less about unity and more about managing asymmetry – balancing the ambitions of the strong with the anxieties of the weak.
None of this means CARICOM is unworkable. It simply means the region must abandon the comforting fiction of uniformity. Real progress requires acknowledging the heterogeneity of the farm: different capacities, different vulnerabilities, different political economies. Only then can institutions be designed to reflect reality rather than rhetoric.
Until that honesty emerges, CARICOM will continue to resemble Orwell’s farm – full of noble slogans, but governed by the quiet truth that some animals are always more equal than others.
