By: Omar Silva: Editor/Publisher

National Perspective Belize – Digital 2026

www.nationalperspectivebz.com

Belize City: Wednesday 25th February 2026

🔥 Editorial:

There was a time when the Caribbean understood something simple:

Small nations survive by standing together.

When hurricanes flattened our homes, when COVID-19 filled our wards, when our health systems stretched beyond capacity — Cuba did not ask for political alignment before sending doctors. It sent people.

White coats crossed the sea.

Now Havana’s streets darken under fuel shortages. Garbage piles up because trucks have no diesel. Hospitals ration power. Blackouts roll through neighbourhoods.

And the Caribbean lowers its voice.

Not because we do not see.

But because we are afraid.

Afraid of tariffs.
Afraid of visa restrictions.
Afraid of financial pressure.
Afraid of displeasing Washington.

Let us be honest — this is not diplomacy. This is fear management.

And fear has a way of dressing itself as “prudence.”

But prudence that abandons a neighbor in distress becomes something else.

It becomes complicity.

No one is asking CARICOM to endorse Cuba’s political system. No one is asking for ideological romance. Cuba has its flaws. Its governance has long drawn criticism. That debate is legitimate.

But collective economic strangulation that lands on civilians is not reform policy.

It is pressure applied where ordinary people absorb the blow.

And here is the deeper wound:

The Caribbean benefited from Cuba’s willingness to show up.

Our people remember Cuban nurses during COVID. They remember Cuban doctors in rural clinics. They remember solidarity when resources were thin.

Now that Cuba is squeezed, the region calculates risk.

Every government may have its reasons. Tourism exposure. Banking vulnerability. Remittance dependence. Diplomatic leverage.

But history does not grade on “understandable caution.”

History asks a simpler question:

When your neighbor’s lights went out, what did you do?

We talk endlessly about sovereignty. We speak boldly about climate justice. We demand fairness in trade. We insist small states deserve respect.

But sovereignty that trembles when tested is only a slogan.

If the Caribbean cannot find a united humanitarian voice for Cuba — centered not on ideology, but on civilians — then what exactly does regionalism mean?

Today it is Cuba.

Tomorrow it could be any one of us.

Because extraterritorial pressure does not stop once it proves effective.

Solidarity is not sentimental. It is strategic.

If we allow economic suffocation to become normalized as a tool against small states, we quietly accept that we too are expendable when inconvenient.

That is the real danger.

Not Havana’s blackouts.

But the region’s silence.

And silence, once practiced long enough, becomes habit.

Closing Line:

When white coats came to save Caribbean lives, no one asked for permission from the powerful. Today, we are asking permission to show gratitude — and that should trouble us deeply.