Kurt F. Robertson | On our feet, not on our knees: Jamaica, Cuba, and the cost of surrender

Caribbean nations – burdened by colonial exploitation and slavery – have not been granted the dignity of equals by global powers; instead, we continue to languish in the shadow of United States dominance.

The Monroe Doctrine (1823) cordoned off the Western Hemisphere from European interference, but the Roosevelt Corollary (1904) transformed that barrier into a license for intervention.

Under the pretext of "instability", Washington claimed an exclusive right to police the region. This "Big Stick" policy has entrenched a subordinate status for more than a century. From the Platt Amendment, to the occupation of Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Panama, and the invasion of Grenada, gunboat diplomacy enforced a version of Manifest Destiny – and the Caribbean paid the price.

These policies never disappeared; they evolved.

In 2026, the Big Stick has been reinterpreted as what could be described as a “Trump-era corollary”. Under the current US National Security Strategy, the “partnership” offered to us feels more transactional than genuine.

The US has reverted to treating the Caribbean as its private “backyard”. We see it in heightened military pressure in Venezuela and coercive economic measures aimed at excluding China. It is no longer about collaboration; it is about demanding unreserved alignment with Washington’s agenda.

Today, this policing compulsion has turned toward a more novel and cynical target: regional healthcare. Washington is pressuring Caribbean governments to dismantle their relationships with Cuban medical missions. This is not diplomacy; but coercive military posturing backed by force.

Experience has taught us that survival requires leaning on one another. South-South cooperation, with Cuba and Jamaica as primary examples, presents a way to reduce dependence on wealthier nations while maintaining our own autonomy.

Since 1972, our two countries have sustained five decades of partnership grounded in mutual respect. Against that backdrop, Jamaica’s decision to sever its medical agreement with Cuba is difficult to justify. At best, it is misguided. At worst, it is moral disengagement. Who benefits when we dismantle a partnership built on service? This question is not easily dismissed.

BE HONEST

We must be honest about the stories we tell. Political narratives regularly shroud uncomfortable truths. We saw this in the mid-1970s when Michael Manley was falsely accused in US political discourse of steering Jamaica toward communism.

Manley was a democratic socialist who upheld constitutional order while fighting to expand access to education and healthcare. Under his leadership, Jamaica became an assertive voice within the Non-Aligned Movement, committed to defining its own destiny.

Cuba’s role in Jamaica is not an abstract theory. It dwells in the classrooms of José Martí Technical High School. It lives in the eyes of the more than 24,000 Jamaicans who regained their sight through Operation Miracle. Records from Jamaica’s Ministry of Health and Wellness and Cuba’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs show the scale of this cooperation: since the 1970s, Cuban Medical Brigades have carried out millions of consultations and performed tens of thousands of surgeries.

These were not acts of charity, but practical partnerships formed by necessity and mutual respect, with doctors serving rural clinics and sustaining a healthcare system that was under constant pressure. For many Jamaicans, their presence was the difference between care and neglect.

Concerns about transparency or labor conditions are legitimate, but they should be addressed through negotiations. Instead, the current posture suggests a decision influenced by external pressure. Ending the partnership outright throws the baby out with the bathwater and leaves Jamaica with little leverage. Why now?

Regional leaders like Mia Mottley have made it clear: sovereignty is not negotiable. When Jamaica walks away from longstanding allies without credible alternatives, we do not just "move on". We weaken the structure of South-South cooperation and signal that our unity can be bought or broken.

During the Cold War, Manley urged us to stand firm and walk "on our feet, not on our knees". That philosophy is being tested today. Are we still prepared to stand, or are we becoming comfortable on our knees?

Sovereignty rarely disappears in one fell swoop; it erodes incrementally until it exists in name only. We are stewards of a legacy built on the conviction that we are our brother’s keeper.

Jamaica has never been defined by its size, but by its stance. We likkle, but we tallawah. The question is no longer abstract. Do we still have the moral fortitude to hold the line?

Surrender is a choice, not an inevitability.

We stand on our feet because we nuh bow.

- Kurt F. Robertson earned a Ph.D. in International Relations and Comparative Politics from Howard University. He focuses on Caribbean sovereignty, US foreign policy, and the intersection of human security, regional cooperation, and postcolonial governance. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com