Still shackled to the past, doubting the CCJ

The swearing-in of Justice Winston Anderson as the fourth president of the Caribbean Court of Justice (CCJ) at King’s House in Kingston last week was a moment steeped in symbolism.

Jamaican-born and a Barbadian citizen, Justice Anderson now leads the Trinidad and Tobago-based regional court at a time when questions of Caribbean sovereignty, legal independence, and regional identity are more pressing than ever.

Yet, despite the pomp and ceremony that attended the occasion and the presence of regional dignitaries, including Prime Minister Andrew Holness and CARICOM Secretary General Dr Carla Barnett, the occasion highlighted a troubling irony. The two countries most intimately tied to the CCJ—Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago—continue to rely on the British Privy Council as their final court of appeal. In doing so, they persist in outsourcing the ultimate interpretation of their laws to a foreign judicial body over 4 000 miles away.

This enduring dependence is viewed by many as a post-colonial paradox. Both Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago achieved political independence from Britain in the 1960s. But true independence should demand the power to interpret and apply one’s own laws through one’s own institutions.

So, as Justice Anderson aptly put it at his swearing-in: “Beginning in the 1960s we extracted our political independence from the United Kingdom. Forty years later, the framers of the agreement establishing the CCJ deliberately intended the creation of an institution worthy of our judicial sovereignty.”

The CCJ was not formed in haste. It was designed to serve the region not only as the court of final appeal but also as a central legal pillar of CARICOM integration. Its judges are selected through a rigorous and independent process and its decisions have been lauded for their clarity and fairness.

That so many countries have recognised its value and adopted it as their apex court deserves commendation. Barbados, Belize, Dominica, and Guyana have all made the bold and principled decision to trust a Caribbean institution to interpret Caribbean laws for Caribbean people.

These nations should be applauded not only for their vision, but also for their courage—because rejecting the Privy Council is not merely a procedural move, it is a statement about self-belief.

Their example should serve as both a model and a challenge to the rest of the region. Why, in 2025, should Jamaicans or Trinidadians have to seek final justice from a court in London—a court whose judges are largely unfamiliar with the Caribbean legal landscape, who are appointed without Caribbean input, and who serve a vastly different society with a different culture?

The arguments in favour of the Privy Council are growing weaker with time. Claims that the court could not be impartial are without basis. The CCJ has proven its mettle over two decades, with a reputation for legal integrity, independence, and accessibility. In fact, the court has shown great sensitivity to the Caribbean context and experience.

Continued reliance on the Privy Council comes with a cost. The UK has ended its responsibility for the Caribbean, so why is its judiciary still wielding ultimate legal authority over the populations of the two largest Caribbean Community members? That is a contradiction about which the region should be embarrassed.

In 2025, the Caribbean faces several legal and economic challenges that range from migration and climate change to trade and governance. We contend that continued rejection of the CCJ weakens CARICOM unity and diminishes it, in some cases, to simple rhetoric.

The time for half-measures and dithering is over. It is time for Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago to align their constitution to the principles they professed. If we are serious about creating a strong and enduring Caribbean community, then we must trust our own institutions, particularly ones that have demonstrated integrity and competence to address regional matters. Justice Anderson’s elevation is a proud moment, but it should also be a wake-up call.

Let this not be another ceremony filled with fine words but without the follow-through. Let it be the start of a renewed commitment to Caribbean sovereignty and justice.