For generations, many in the Caribbean grew up believing that the United States was the world’s great benefactor – a beacon of freedom, prosperity and boundless opportunity. Carefully cultivated through cinema, television, magazines, newspapers and radio, this perception reinforced the idea that the US was a land where hard work could secure a better life.
It was the dream destination for countless Caribbean migrants seeking to escape economic hardship and limited opportunities. But that illusion has crumbled, as historical distortions have become clear.
The US has long mastered the arts of narrative control, of propaganda, historical revisionism and psychological manipulation. Beneath the veneer of benevolence is a legacy of interventionism, economic coercion and exploitation – beginning with the genocide of Indigenous peoples across the Caribbean and the Americas, and continuing in wars, invasions and the destabilisation of nations across the world.
Today that same strategy persists – economic coercion, proxy wars and covert intelligence operations masked as noble interventions. The self-proclaimed “world police” is truly an oligarchy – a force only for elitist self-interest, a neocolonial empire where rich corporations take precedence over the average citizen’s welfare.
Donald Trump’s return to the White House has starkly exposed this reality. Through a barrage of executive orders, his administration has set a new course on critical issues from climate change to trade relations, immigration and international alliances. For the Caribbean – so deeply intertwined with the US economically, politically and socially – there are profound implications.
Now, with the freeze of USAid – a foreign-aid programme that for decades underpinned US influence and its quid pro quo relationship with developing regions – the Caribbean and the aid-dependent regions of the wider global south face uncertainty. But the decision brings both jeopardy and opportunity.
USAid funded health, education, infrastructure and disaster relief. However, many argue that the programme was more about maintaining economic and geopolitical dominance for a nation that has more than 750 military bases in at least 80 countries.
There have been mixed reactions from Caribbean leaders. The Jamaican prime minister, Andrew Holness, acknowledged that the loss of USAid funding presented immediate cashflow challenges but said his country’s long-term vision was one of reducing reliance on aid while strengthening its economic foundation and independence.
Beyond the Caribbean, some view this as a necessary reckoning. The former Kenyan president Uhuru Kenyatta remarked at an east African summit in Mombasa: “I saw some people the other day crying that Trump has removed [funding] … Why are you crying? It is not your government; it is not your country.
“He has no reason to give you anything,” Kenyatta said of Trump. “You don’t pay taxes in America.”
Kenyatta’s sentiment was echoed by many who argue that foreign aid has for too long stifled true development in the global south while enabling corruption and inefficiency, and now we must build self-sustaining economies. This sentiment is echoed by anti-corruption agencies and activists who argue that aid can prop up corrupt elites more than it benefits ordinary citizens.
The Caribbean, a region already grappling with economic instability, will now have to navigate the freeze and possible permanent loss of funding for critical programmes.
Many small island developing states rely on USAid for climate adaptation efforts, particularly as hurricanes and rising sea levels threaten their existence. Without this support, nations such as Antigua and Barbuda, Dominica and the Bahamas must seek alternative funding.
As one of the largest contributors to climate change, the US’s 47th president now appears content to pull up the drawbridge of mitigation efforts, abandoning those on the frontlines of a crisis they did not create. His rollback of climate commitments, including the withdrawal from global agreements, exacerbates the Caribbean’s vulnerability. Without USAid, crucial climate-resilience projects are left in limbo, just as hurricanes are growing stronger and more frequent.
Trump’s order to withdraw the US from the World Health Organization could weaken the Caribbean’s access to essential health resources and technical support. This is especially concerning in a region facing increasing health crises, including dengue and malaria outbreaks. Aid has played a significant role in healthcare, particularly in combating diseases such as HIV/Aids. The US withdrawal leaves Caribbean public health systems – already under pressure from brain drain and underfunding – facing potential collapse. Haiti, heavily reliant on aid, is particularly vulnerable.
Add to this the Trump administration’s aggressive immigration policies, as the president threatens to deport thousands of Caribbean nationals and impose migration restrictions, and the region could face a domino effect of economic and social crises of unprecedented proportions.
The Caribbean diaspora in the US send billions of dollars annually to their home countries, sustaining local economies. Remittances to the region worth $18.4bn (£15bn) were expected in 2024.
Trump’s hardline financial policies could also threaten this source of foreign currency. If stricter financial regulations are imposed, and proposals to tax remittances are gaining traction, these vital cashflows could be disrupted, leading to widespread economic distress.
The Trump administration’s antagonistic stance toward efforts by the Brics group of emerging economies to accept new members and de-dollarise global trade could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The loss of USAid may accelerate a geopolitical shift already under way. Caribbean nations, wary of US unpredictability, are increasingly looking to Brics countries such as China and Russia for investment and financial support. China’s belt and road initiative has brought significant infrastructure investment to the region, from ports to highways. However, concerns remain about debt dependency and geopolitical entanglements.
Guyana, with its newly discovered oil wealth, has already courted Chinese and Indian investment, signalling a shift away from reliance on western financial institutions. There is no doubt that the US will try to encourage Guyana to deepen its border disagreements with Venezuela over oil discoveries, but the Guyanese government must not allow itself to be used in any proxy conflict.
Meanwhile, regional bodies such as the Caribbean Community (Caricom) must now step up and foster greater economic cooperation to ensure life beyond USAid.
While the freeze will cause immediate and painful hardship, it presents an opportunity for the Caribbean to rethink its economic model. Foreign aid is never free; it comes with conditions that keep us dependent and unable to chart our own course.
We must invest in our own people, our own industries and our own future. Caribbean nations must take decisive steps to reduce economic reliance on the US. Strengthening intra-regional trade, boosting local production and developing digital economies and sustainable industries will be key. The region must also clamp down on corruption, ensuring resources are used effectively rather than siphoned off by political elites.
Moreover, the Caribbean must leverage its rich natural resources strategically. From tourism to agriculture to renewable energy, the region has potential that can be unlocked through innovation and strategic investments. With aid off the table, the time has come for bold leadership and economic transformation.
This could mark a turning point for the Caribbean. It presents undeniable economic and social challenges, but also forces the region to rethink its dependency on external powers. As the US turns inwards, Caribbean nations must look outwards, forging stronger regional alliances and engaging strategically with emerging global powers.
The Caribbean has long been at the mercy of US policies, from immigration crackdowns to economic coercion and interference. The region stands at a crossroads. Will it wait for foreign handouts to resume, or will it embrace this moment to redefine its future? The choice is clear: the time for self-determination is now.
