Why Managed Autonomy Cannot Replace True Self-Determination for Caribbean Peoples

Alston Lourens
June 28, 2026
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๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜‰๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ถ ๐˜๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜Ž๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฑ ๐˜Š๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ, โ€œ๐˜™๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜™๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜š๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ง-๐˜‹๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฎ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ: ๐˜‹๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜š๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜š๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ˆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด,โ€ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜‘๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ 24, 2026, ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜œ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜š๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜Š๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜Š๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ ๐˜๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ, ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜’๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ ๐˜Š๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ถ๐˜ด ๐˜™๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜™๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜š๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜–๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜‰๐˜ถ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ.

Distinguished guests, members of the international community, fellow advocates, brothers and sisters in the struggle for justice and self-determination,

Good day.

I am honored to stand here in Washington, D.C., for this conference on self-determination and the double standards that too often decide whose freedom is recognized and whose freedom is delayed.

I come from St. Maarten, but not only as a person from one small island. I come as a Caribbean person, and as someone connected to ONESXM Association, an organization that has worked diligently to educate our people about the unfinished colonial reality of St. Martin. Through our connection to the Caribbean Reparations Commission, we have tried to make one point clear: our people cannot be fully free if they do not first understand the system they are living under.

And that is not always easy, because modern colonialism does not always look like the colonialism we were taught to recognize.

Modern colonialism no longer announces itself with chains.

It arrives with constitutions, oversight boards, governors, financial supervision, and friendly words like autonomy.

Self-determination is not a favor. It is a right. But the problem is not only whether these rights exist on paper. The problem is whether they are applied fairly.

In the northeastern Caribbean, there is a small group of islands I refer to as the Sunny Isles: St. Martin, Anguilla, St. Barthelemy, Saba, St. Eustatius, St. Kitts, and Nevis.

Seven islands, less than thirty minutes apart by sea or air. Close enough that from one island, you can often see the next.

Our families cross these waters. Our workers cross these waters. Our culture, language, trade, and history cross these waters. The sea between us is not a wall. It is a road.

And yet, in this small space, two of these islands, St. Kitts and Nevis, form part of one independent nation. The others are divided between Dutch, French, and British systems.

And in the middle is St. Martin.

One island. Two colonial administrations. A double-colonized island in the heart of the Caribbean.

And there, in that double-colonized space, lives a people who sing songs of their unity. A people who carry symbols of that unity. A people who raise a flag of unity and sing words that say: one island, one people, one destiny.

But the people of St. Martin are still made to choose a nationality that reflects the division imposed on them: French or Dutch.

And that is why even the spelling of our island confuses the world. Anyone who has ever Googled or read about my island may have experienced it: St. Martin, St. Maarten, Saint-Martin, St. Maarten.

Even the name of the island carries the evidence of its division.

One island. One people. One destiny.

But two administrations, two spellings, two nationalities, and two colonial systems still standing over one Caribbean people.

So the question must be asked: how is this still possible in 2026?

The answer is uncomfortable.

Colonialism did not end in the Caribbean. It changed its paperwork.

The titles changed. The flags changed. The speeches changed. The language changed. But in too many cases, the structure remained.

Colonies became overseas territories. Empire became kingdom relations. Control became supervision. Dependency became autonomy. Governors became constitutional safeguards.

But if the final authority still sits somewhere else, then we must be honest about what we are looking at.

If a governor appointed by a distant power can intervene in the affairs of an elected people, that is not full self-determination.

If a financial board can decide the limits of a local government's budget, that is not full self-determination.

If a people cannot freely choose their political status without pressure, dependency, fear, or manipulation, that is not full self-determination.

That is managed autonomy. And managed autonomy cannot be the final destination of a people.

That is why I ask the international community to stay alert.

Stay suspicious when colonial powers present symbols as proof of freedom. Stay suspicious when you see red, white, and blue in a Caribbean flag and are told that self-determination has already been achieved.

I do not say that to attack our flags. Our people love our flags. We love our symbols. But we must ask deeper questions.

Who still holds the final power? Who appoints the governor? Who supervises the budget? Who can block legislation? Who controls the international voice of the island?

Because the colonized are told they are autonomous, while the colonizer is told there are no colonies left.

That is how modern colonialism survives.

It survives through distance. It survives through legal complexity. It survives through polite language. It survives because the people living under the system are told they are free enough, while the people living in the colonizing country are told their country does not colonize anyone anymore.

This is why ONESXM has been diligent in public education. We have had to tell our own people: do not be confused by the language. Do not mistake local administration for full sovereignty. Do not mistake a change in title for a change in power. Do not mistake permission for freedom.

Autonomy without final authority is not freedom.

It is permission.

And permission can be withdrawn.

So as we discuss the Caribbean and self-determination, remember this:

The titles have changed, but the strategy remains.

The language has changed, but the control remains.

The names have changed, but the structure remains.

Many of our people living in colonies can stand on their own shores and look across the water at self-determination in their neighborhood.

They can see an independent island from a dependent one. They can see what is possible. Freedom is not a fantasy. It is nearby. It is visible. It is living just across the sea.

Do not let colonialism hide behind modern titles. Do not let empire hide behind autonomy. Do not let supervision be mistaken for partnership.

The people of St. Martin, and the wider Sunny Isles, deserve more than managed autonomy.

We deserve the right to think, speak, organize, and decide as a people.

We deserve the right to educate ourselves honestly about our political condition.

We deserve the right to regional cooperation without colonial interference.

We deserve the right to determine our future.

Not as an act of charity.

Not as a favor.

But as a right.

Because self-determination is not self-determination when someone else decides its limits.

Freedom is not freedom when it depends on permission.

And colonialism is not over simply because it learned how to sound democratic.

Do not forget the small island peoples of the Caribbean, people who can look out to sea and see the self-determination still being denied to them.

Thank you.

Alston Lourens
ONESXM Association

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