COMMENTARY: War in Iran, Pain in the Caribbean

By Sir Ronald Sanders

The war in Iran is already at Caribbean doors. The attacks in Iran and the Gulf are being justified by some on the grounds that Iran’s record on terrorism, nuclear ambition, and regional meddling leaves the “free world” with no choice but to act militarily. The Caribbean has every reason to take that record seriously. But for small, import‑dependent states in this hemisphere, an additional set of questions demands urgent attention: who is paying the economic and social price for this war, and what is it doing to the rules that are meant to protect small states?

A war fought there, a bill paid here

The conflict has already pushed up oil prices, freight rates, and insurance premiums for shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, one of the world’s most critical corridors for oil and liquefied natural gas. For Caribbean countries that import most of what they consume, every additional dollar on a barrel of oil, and every extra cent on a container or tanker, quickly appears on electricity bills, food prices, and public‑transport fares.

Many states in this hemisphere import a large share of their goods from the United States. As American producers face higher fuel, fertiliser, logistics, and financing costs, those increases are passed on in the prices of exports to the Caribbean. Our region is therefore not only directly exposed to world oil and freight markets; it is also importing US‑embedded costs in the form of more expensive food, manufactured goods, and inputs.

For most countries in the Western Hemisphere, including the US itself, the war has meant tighter supply chains, higher shipping and war‑risk insurance costs. Only a narrow group of oil and gas exporters have enjoyed a short‑term windfall from elevated prices. In our own region, Guyana and Trinidad and Tobago are among the few that see higher hydrocarbon revenues, but even they remain exposed to volatility, shipping risk, and the broader slowdown that higher energy prices can bring.

Security narratives and international law

Public argument over this war has been dominated by two types of narratives. One focuses on sovereignty and international law: whether one or two powerful nations may bomb another sovereign state on the basis that it might develop nuclear weapons that could one day be used against them, even without an imminent attack or a mandate from the UN Security Council. The other is increasingly cast in ethnic and religious terms, with social media flooded by Islamophobic and sectarian rhetoric that reduces complex realities to a clash of civilisations and obscures sober discussion of law and proportionality.

The Caribbean should not turn a blind eye to Iran’s conduct. The regime’s longstanding repression at home, including the grave violations of the rights of women and dissenters, and its support for armed groups and destabilising activities abroad, are matters of legitimate concern to all states, including ours. Nor should any country’s aggression against its neighbours be excused or ignored. At the same time, arguments in some quarters, which catalogue Iran’s support for Hezbollah, Hamas and other networks in the Middle East and Latin America and then treat this as sufficient justification for open‑ended military action, raise profound concerns.

Similarly, Israel’s declared aims require scrutiny. By his own account, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu does not seek only to neutralise discrete threats. He has spoken of “crushing” and “weakening” Iran’s regime, of delivering “crushing blows” to its security apparatus, and of creating “optimal conditions” for a future toppling of the regime, even as he acknowledges that actual regime change would depend on the Iranian people. These statements point not just to self defence, but toward an effort to leave Iran a substantially weakened state, with long‑term implications for regional balance and for the principle that one or two powers should not decide, by force, the political future of others.

Accepting the seriousness of Iran’s record, and recognising the genuine security concerns of other states, does not mean accepting that powerful states may unilaterally wage preventive war outside clear self‑defence or Security Council authorisation. For small countries, the restraints in the UN Charter on the use of force are vital; they are the first line of protection.

Fractured global and regional leadership

Institutions that should help guide global opinion have done so only partially. The UN Security Council has managed to condemn specific Iranian attacks in the Gulf and to call for an immediate halt to hostilities and the protection of civilians. But deep divisions among its permanent members exist. Some are simultaneously profiting from higher oil prices and from easing of sanctions related to their own past violations of international law.

Regional organisations in the Americas have likewise fallen short. The Organisation of American States (OAS) has not even discussed a member‑state‑negotiated position on this war. There is no collective view of the Organisation. Likewise, although CARICOM had issued earlier statements on Middle East escalation and some governments have spoken nationally on the latest developments, there is no unified Caribbean position on the present conflict equivalent to a clear, common line adopted by Heads of Government.

In practice, public opinion in the Caribbean is being shaped less by regional guidance than by global cable news and polarised social media feeds.

Where does this leave the Caribbean?

Caribbean countries, individually and collectively, have virtually no military leverage and limited economic power, yet they are deeply exposed to the conflict’s fallout. Tourism‑dependent economies face higher jet‑fuel costs, potential softening of travel demand, and tighter airline margins. Import‑dependent economies confront rising energy and food prices, more expensive US‑sourced goods, and growing fiscal pressure as governments try to protect households from inflation while servicing already heavy debt burdens. For many, the war has arrived as higher bills, fragile supply chains, and renewed threats to growth and social stability.

Ideally, CARICOM should respond by speaking clearly and collectively. A unified Caribbean stance could defend de‑escalation and immediate ceasefire; insist on respect for the UN Charter’s rules on sovereignty and the use of force; call for the protection and reopening of critical sea lanes; and draw attention to the disproportionate economic burden the war places on small, vulnerable states that had no say in the decision to fight.

In practice, such unity is unlikely. Recent developments have exposed divisions within CARICOM. Some member states see the United States as their principal security partner and a crucial economic lifeline in trade, investment, remittances, and tourism. Smaller states are acutely aware of how shifts in US visa policy, travel restrictions, and migration enforcement can affect their societies, and recent episodes of visa and travel pressure have reinforced the perception that foreign‑policy choices can carry real costs. In this environment, many governments will hesitate to support any collective position.

A measured Caribbean stance

But, even without full regional consensus, Caribbean states can still exercise leadership by articulating a firm stance grounded in their own interests and values. Such a stance would rest on a clear defence of international law and sovereignty, opposing unlawful uses of force by any country, and insisting that concerns about security, nuclear proliferation, or terrorism be addressed, as far as possible, within the framework of the UN Charter. It would maintain a consistent call for de‑escalation and diplomacy, prioritising ceasefire, restraint, and the resumption of negotiations on nuclear issues and regional security, while underlining the urgent need to keep vital shipping lanes open and safe. It would insist on economic justice for vulnerable economies, showing how the war’s consequences – such as energy price spikes, freight costs, imported inflation, and potential recessions in tourism origin markets – are hurting societies that had no voice in the decision to fight, and pressing for tailored financial support and shock‑absorbing mechanisms. And it would reject ethnic and religious polarisation, acknowledging human‑rights abuses and security threats without embracing narratives that stigmatise entire peoples or faiths, drawing on the Caribbean’s own history to advocate for a discourse rooted in rights, law, and shared humanity.

For small states in this hemisphere, the path forward lies in principled, measured diplomacy: engaging all major actors, avoiding gratuitous offence, but speaking clearly about the need for de‑escalation, respect for the Charter, and protection of societies that are otherwise left to bear the war’s distant but very real costs. To say nothing protects no one.

(The author is the Ambassador of Antigua and Barbuda to the United States and the OAS, and Chancellor of the University of Guyana. The views expressed are entirely his own. Responses and previous commentaries:www.sirronaldsanders.com)

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