The Caribbean Court of Justice Faces a Crucible of Governance and Due Process

By Ronald Sanders

I have championed the Caribbean Court of Justice (CCJ) since it was still an idea on paper. In 2015, on the Court’s tenth anniversary, I called its creation arguably the most significant institutional achievement of the English-speaking Caribbean since the Treaty of Chaguaramas. I have not changed my mind.

I have also argued, more than once, that the CCJ is a people’s court. An appeal to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London costs at least US$65,000 – a sum that puts it out of reach for most Caribbean citizens. The CCJ is different by design. With its traveling Bench, video links, and electronic filing, it opens the doors of justice to people of modest means, not just to governments and deep-pocketed corporations.

The Court was also built to withstand political interference. Every judge except the president is appointed by an independent regional commission. The president is named by a three-quarters majority of the Contracting Parties, and only on that commission’s recommendation. The Court’s finances run through an independently managed Trust Fund, insulated from the whims of any single government.

These are powerful reasons to stand behind the CCJ. But standing behind a regional institution cannot mean staying silent when serious questions arise about how it is run. If anything, the people who value the Court most should be the first to demand that those questions get answered – properly, and in the open.

The Allegations Against Justice Anderson

The allegations now swirling around the Court’s president, Justice Winston Anderson, are serious. Internal correspondence obtained and reported by the Trinidad Express shows that five of his six judicial colleagues raised concerns about his leadership. The charges on the table include “dictatorial” administration, manipulation of judicial panels, and attempts to sway colleagues during deliberations.

But allegations are not findings. They do not become fact simply because private correspondence has leaked into the public domain. No independent body has proven any of these claims. And nothing published so far shows that the outcome of a single case was improperly determined.

I have known Justice Anderson for many years – as a dedicated Caribbean public servant, a distinguished legal scholar, and a tireless champion of Caribbean jurisprudence. That history doesn’t qualify me to adjudicate disputed facts. But it does entitle me to say this: a career of service should not be discarded, and a reputation should not be decided, on the basis of allegations that have never been independently tested.

Justice Anderson has since responded. He flatly rejects the claim that judicial panels were assembled to steer the outcome of cases. He maintains that selecting panels has always been an administrative function of the president’s office, one he exercised solely to keep the Court’s work running smoothly and impartially.

He is not claiming a spotless record. He concedes he may have pushed too hard on the question of judicial attire. He also acknowledges that his intervention in Guyana’s long-running failure to permanently appoint a Chancellor and Chief Justice would have been better limited to public commentary – the approach his predecessors took. His account deserves the same scrutiny, and the same fairness, as the allegations against him.

A Change in Procedure – But Not a Verdict

On August 19, the Court announced that all judges will now sit on every panel, unless one is formally excused for a legitimate reason. That single change sharply limits any future president’s ability to hand-pick who hears a given case.

It was a sensible move. But it was not a confession that panels had been manipulated in the past. Nor does it prove the opposite – that the president’s former discretion was never misused. That question is still open.

The trouble is that no one seems entirely sure who has the legal authority to close it.

The Regional Judicial and Legal Services Commission has said the concerns should go through the Court’s and the Commission’s established internal channels, via a “transparent and independent review.” It later clarified that it had not, in fact, ordered such a review. Senior Counsel Ralph Ramkarran of Guyana has argued the Commission has no jurisdiction here at all – its disciplinary powers apply explicitly to judges other than the president.

Article IX of the Agreement establishing the Court lays out a process for when a president’s removal is on the table: if at least three heads of government jointly call for an inquiry, a tribunal must be formed to investigate and recommend whether the president should go.

But that mechanism is built for one scenario – possible removal. The Agreement is far less clear about who is authorized to independently examine serious allegations against a sitting president before removal becomes the question.

That gap is not a minor technicality. An inquiry launched by a body without proper authority would settle nothing; its conclusions would simply be challenged in turn. But if no credible inquiry happens at all, these allegations will hang over Justice Anderson and the Court indefinitely. Neither outcome is fair – not to him, not to the colleagues who raised the alarm, and not to the Caribbean public who depend on this institution.

In short, the Court’s constitutional architecture is incomplete. It spells out how to remove a president. It does not spell out how to investigate one first.

How the Leak Happened Matters Too

There is a second question worth asking: how did private judicial correspondence end up in a newspaper? The Organisation of Eastern Caribbean States Bar Association and the Organisation of Commonwealth Caribbean Bar Associations were right to demand that both the allegations and the leak be investigated, and that the Court’s information security be reviewed without delay.

Confidentiality in judicial deliberations isn’t a formality – it’s essential. Judges need room to argue, test ideas, and change their minds without worrying that a half-formed opinion will turn up in tomorrow’s headlines. The leak has genuinely damaged the Court. But an investigation into the leak cannot become a substitute for investigating the underlying allegations. Both demand attention. Neither excuses ignoring the other.

Independence Is Not Immunity

Judicial independence does not put the administration of justice beyond question. Independence exists to shield judges and their rulings from political pressure and other improper influence – it does not excuse misconduct, if misconduct is ever proven, and it does not remove the need for accountability.

The heads of Caribbean Judiciaries put it well: the Court’s authority “rests upon public confidence in the independence, impartiality, integrity and competence of its judges.” That confidence isn’t something you can simply assert. It has to be earned, continuously, in full view of the public.

The dialogue between CARICOM heads of government and heads of judiciary in Montego Bay in July 2025 showed that the executive and judicial branches can engage with one another without compromising judicial independence, the separation of powers, or each branch’s constitutional role. That particular conversation wasn’t about discipline. But it proved that structured engagement between the branches isn’t an attack on judicial independence – it’s a sign of institutional maturity.

Don’t Mistake This for a Reason to Retreat

Some of the eight CARICOM states that still cling to the Privy Council may look at this controversy and see vindication – proof, they will say, that they were right never to fully embrace the CCJ. That conclusion would be wrong.

No court on earth – not in London, not in Washington, not in Strasbourg, not in Port of Spain – is immune to internal disagreement. What matters is how an institution responds when that disagreement turns serious and public.

Within days of the allegations surfacing, Justice Anderson issued a detailed response. Within ten days, the Court had already changed how it constitutes judicial panels. Those were necessary steps. But they were only first steps. They do not replace the need for an independent, lawful process to establish what actually happened.

The right response to a governance gap at the CCJ is not to retreat back toward the Privy Council. It’s to fix the gap. A court thousands of miles away is not more accountable to Caribbean people simply by virtue of being far away.

What Comes Next

What the moment demands is a process whose authority no one can reasonably dispute – one that treats Justice Anderson and his colleagues fairly, and that actually establishes the facts. The Contracting Parties also need to close the hole in the Agreement, so that if this ever happens again, there is no ambiguity about who has the power to act.

The Caribbean didn’t build the CCJ because we believed its judges would never disagree, or that its administration would never stumble. We built it because we believed Caribbean people were capable of dispensing justice at the highest level, on our own terms.

That belief now obliges us to face this controversy honestly, lawfully, and fairly. Doing so will not weaken the Court. It will strengthen it.

Ronald Sanders is Antigua & Barbuda’s Ambassador to the US and the OAS, and the Chancellor of The University of Guyana