Extended Statehood In The Caribbean ~ Comparing Notes On Extended Statehood In The Caribbean

No comments yet

500px-Map_of_the_CaribbeanGreat Variety of Extended Statehood
Great diversity is apparent in the organization and day-to-day operations of extended statehood in the Caribbean. Some point out that in the 1990s similarities have been emerging in the three sets of territories that are part of British, Dutch and French extended statehood systems, especially in terms of ‘good governance’ with its focus on democratic politics, competent administration, justice and civil liberties. At the same time it is expected that these territories are likely to retain much diversity in terms of constitutional status, citizenship rights and prospects for independence.[i]

Not only are there wide differences between the European partner countries in the relations they maintain with their overseas territories; also relations between a partner country and its various territories differ. These differences are mainly due to historical factors and to the partner countries’ constitutional structures.[ii] A brief survey of the variations of extended statehood in the Caribbean may serve here as an introduction to a number of issues that spring to the fore when comparing different extended statehood systems.

French Caribbean
Martinique, Guadeloupe and French Guyana have been since 1946 integrated territories in the French Republic; they are French territory, designated as overseas departments (Départments d’outre-mer) (DOM). Strictly speaking, unlike the USA, Dutch and British territories, the DOM have no constitutional links with France since they are part of France itself.[iii] Réno asserts that the most undeniable success of the Assimilation Act is social equality with metropolitan France. The flipside of the legal and political assimilation is, however, blatant economic failure. The state has become the breadwinner.[iv] The integrated status implies that ‘the French state was seen from the outset as the key to development (…) bringing about a new world that would meet every expectation expressed by the local population’.[v] As the DOM are integrated into the institutions of the French Republic, it naturally followed that catching up with the standards of living in France became the norm for the public’s aspirations. The financial transfers from France to the DOM are by and large regular transfers of resources within the French public sector; they do not qualify as assistance or development aid allocations.[vi]

It may be assumed that the public conceives these transfers, perhaps even more so the local politicians, as undisputable rights to provision the DOM public domain. In addition, being part of France implies large funding of the DOM by the European Union. In actuality the European Union provides much more funding to the DOM than France itself. Construction of seaports and airport terminals has been heavily subsidized by the European Union.[vii] Nowadays the currency used in the DOM is the Euro. The inhabitants of the DOM are French citizens with voting rights in the French elections; they have their own representatives in French parliament. The topics these representatives raise in Paris and the way these topics are being dealt with by the French ministers concerned, receive elaborate attention in the local media on the islands; these representatives do count more
than they number.

Dutch Caribbean
The Netherlands Antilles and Aruba are autonomous countries in the Kingdom of the Netherlands with each country having its own parliament, cabinet of ministers as well as local government institutions for each of the five islands of the Netherlands Antilles. These six islands are not integrated parts of the Netherlands in Europe; not the Euro but the Netherlands Antillean Florin (NAF) and the Aruba Florin (AF) is the respective national currency.

In 1954 the Netherlands Antilles and Suriname achieved the status of autonomous states as successor to the former colonial status. The Caribbean countries claimed autonomy, not independence nor integration into the Netherlands. They aimed to be partners on equal footing with the Netherlands. The 1954 Charter of the Kingdom designated the Kingdom as a ‘more or less’ federal state, comprising three autonomous countries, the Netherlands, Suriname and the Netherlands Antilles. Suriname became independent in 1975 with a majority of only one vote in the Surinamese parliament. With the benefit of hindsight, most Dutch politicians today agree that the way Surinam’s independence was handled was not a grand act of post-colonial stewardship. The remaining Dutch Caribbean islands have not wanted to follow Surinam’s example and become independent states. The Netherlands cannot make statehood amendments against the will of the Caribbean countries; the Charter stipulates that any changes require the unanimous consent of the parties involved. Arubans and Netherlands-Antilleans hold Netherlands’ citizenship and passports and have the right of abode in the Netherlands. Aruban and Netherlands-Antillean residents in the Caribbean have no voting rights in the Netherlands elections nor do they have representatives in the Dutch parliament. Unlike the inhabitants of the DOM who feel they belong to ‘Les Français’, the Dutch Antilleans and Arubans consider themselves primordially nationals of their respective island who hold a Netherlands’ passport.

For a long time, a system of Dutch development aid and assistance, mainly in the form of hundreds of projects of all sorts and sizes, formed the core of the Kingdom’s governmental relations with its overseas countries. The Dutch aligned their aid with the development priorities as determined by the autonomous Caribbean governments and assumed that with the help of this aid, the islands would eventually become viable self-governing units. It was believed that one day the Caribbean countries would become independent, politically as well as economically. Whatever the outcome, the Dutch felt they were serving the well being of the island communities, which made for ‘one big happy family’ in the post-colonial era. Nevertheless, the Dutch parliament and media did occasionally scrutinize their aid to the Antilles as the islands fell into the category of high income countries.[viii] Not much happened though. As long as the prospect of independence prevailed, the development aid would eventually come to a natural conclusion and so end this debate. The effectiveness of all this aid was also occasionally questioned. Did it really make a difference? This question itself mattered little since the cost of aid to the Antilles was rather insubstantial in relation to the total government budget. Financially it made little difference for the Netherlands.

The Netherlands opted initially for an overseas policy of non-interference. One of the Kingdom’s ministers in those years qualified the baseline of his policy as ‘three times lucky’, suggesting that he would – almost – always comply with Antillean proposals when these were repeated over and again. In his view the Antilles, not the Netherlands, must set the priorities for how the Netherlands. aid budget was to be spent. Moreover, he was reluctant to enter the autonomous purview of the Netherlands Antilles: ‘Even when they make a mess of it, it is still their mess’. A sentiment of ‘let it be’ prevailed. As a result, the transfers of resources from the Netherlands were considered by the Netherlands Antilles as by and large ‘our money’, to be allocated according to local decision-making.

This perspective changed when the prospect of independence faded for the overseas territories. For the Netherlands, the old system of development aid became obsolete as recognition of the obligations of good governance and the rule of law in the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba took precedence. In former years, Antillean development policy, if it existed at all, drove the Netherlands aid, resulting in big budgets directed at infrastructure such as harbors and airports, roads, houses, and the restoration of monuments. However, now the nature and direction of the aid has come under serious scrutiny. The obligation of the Kingdom to safeguard the principles of good governance in the overseas countries has become a more compelling rule of conduct with regard to the appropriation of the aid budget. All parties welcomed the turnaround in status perspective at the beginning of the 1990s, although the new direction of the aid budget created strong disagreements between the Antillean polity and the Netherlands’ officials in The Hague. In the Antilles it was no longer felt that the Netherlands’ aid budget was ‘our money’.

USA Caribbean
The United States seized Puerto Rico from Spain in 1898 during the Spanish-American War. Today Puerto Rico is a non-incorporated territory of the United States of America. In 1952 Puerto Rico was granted Commonwealth status (Estado Libre Asociado); on 25 July 2002 the 50th birthday of the Constitución del Estado Libre Asociado de Puerto Rico was  celebrated. Puerto Ricans hold American passports; they are American citizens (since 1917) and have unrestricted access to the USA. Island residents do not have voting rights on the mainland. The lack of voting rights was offset against the extension of the USA military draft to Puerto Ricans. At the time the military draft was still enforced in the US, Puerto Ricans were included on an equal footing with American citizens on the mainland. The Commonwealth has no vote in Congress; Puerto Rico elects one non evoting representative to the U.S. House of Representatives, known as the Resident Commissioner. Puerto Rico is exempt from federal income tax. U.S. minimum wage laws apply in Puerto Rico.

Various USA interests have over time dominated the relationship. Grosfuegel’s socio-historical analysis points to three dominators: economic, military and symbolic. For instance, the US.s symbolic interest is closely tied to the type of Puerto Rico’s development model exercised during the 1950s and 1960s, the years of the cold war with the Soviet Union. To counteract the Soviet claim that Puerto Rico’s status symbolized US colonial aims in the world, several local government positions were opened to Puerto Ricans. In addition, a program of industrialization through massive foreign investments was implemented. Puerto Rico’s development had to be a showcase of democracy and capitalism; its ‘success story’ was sustained by massive USA federal assistance in areas such as housing, health and education. Puerto Rico was treated like any other U.S. state in need of federal assistance while Puerto Rico’s residents did not have to pay federal taxes. This model was advertised by the USA to Third World countries as opposed to the competing Soviet model.[ix]

Generous US federal tax incentives, since 1976 embodied in Section 936 of the Internal Revenue Code, have all along been the cornerstone of Puerto Rico’s economic development. These incentives allowed companies to repatriate profits nearly tax free, while also permitting income generated from investments in Puerto Rico to be repatriated to their US-based parent firms. As a result, outside investment greatly increased, however without creating enough jobs to compensate for the declining number of jobs in agriculture. Since the beginning of the twentieth century, both US investment on the island and migration to the mainland have been significant factors in Puerto Rican history.[x] Duany emphasizes that: ‘Puerto Rico is a divided nation in which nearly half of its members live outside the Island. The Puerto Rican government has sponsored large scale migration to the U.S. mainland as a safety valve for the Islands’ overpopulation and unemployment problems’.[xi]

Since 1952 an endless debate in Puerto Rican politics on the status question proceeded, by and large divided between the option of becoming an integral part (incorporated) of the USA in the form of a separate state, so called statehood option, or the option of retaining the status quo (as such, or with modifications). This debate encompassed issues as diverse as economic development, welfare, deficits, immigration, culture, and foreign policy. Of course, independence has its niche in this debate but has never drawn substantial attention. A fervent independentista, Juan Mari Bras, stated in 2003: ‘I feel very happy to have dedicated my life to the struggle for independence because I know eventually it will succeed (…) maybe in seven years. Maybe in seven centuries’.[xii] The status issue of Puerto Rico had not come to a definitive conclusion at the end of the 20th century. Perusse’s conclusion that: ‘The United States and Puerto Rico have been cohabitating for nearly a century. Now is the time to get married or to separate’ [xiii], rings very similar to recent commentaries in the Kingdom of the Netherlands with regard to the strained relations between the Netherlands in Europe and the Netherlands Antilles in the Caribbean. Others warn that Puerto Ricans should be wary of embracing statehood as a panacea for their colonial predicament. Morin, for instance, expects that in view of the Hawaiian experience, Puerto Ricans will be vulnerable to losing their language, and culture and national identity under statehood.[xiv] US Congress began the phase-out of the key industrial investment incentive, Section 936, in 1996. As it stands now, this incentive will end in 2006 while no clearly defined alternative economic strategy has been articulated. Baver suggest that: ‘With the loss of 936, Puerto Rico’s future is difficult to predict’.[xv]

British Caribbean
Britain’s permanent empire counts ‘a fistful of islands’.[xvi] The British Overseas Territories (OTs) in the Caribbean are few and with few inhabitants. The territory with the largest population is the Cayman Islands (37,000); Anguilla counts only 12,000 people while Montserrat’s population figure has gone down from almost 11,000 to ca. 4,500 after the dramatic volcanic activity in 1995 when around 8,000 people left. The British Virgin Islands number 29,000 and the Turks and Caicos 20,000 people. These territories vary significantly in prosperity; the GDP per capita of the Cayman Islands is US$30,120; of Montserrat US$6,400; and of Turks and Caicos US$6,000. Tourism and international finance services are by and large the main pillars of the OTs economies. For each and every OT, the constitutional relationship with the UK is tailored to its unique specifications and with different degrees of local autonomy. The United Kingdom assumes that these territories are self-sufficient; it does not provide structural aid. If aid is offered in the form of expertise or funds, it is for specific projects.[xvii] The money transfers from the mainland to the British OTs are next to nothing when compared to the USA, Dutch and French Caribbean. The staff of the Overseas Territories Department of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office keeps the problems of the OTs at arms length and is wary of micro-management. This relaxed frame of mind may be partly due to world-wide diplomatic service background of the OT-desk officers; the problems of the OTs fade when compared with the stark realities of development countries in the Third World.[xviii] All in all an ambience of benign neglect prevailed on the part of Britain.

These territories are the last in line; they did not follow the British colonies in the Caribbean, which became independent at various dates after World War II. In total 12 territories obtained independence and remained part of the British Commonwealth as dominions.[xix] At the time of independence, some islands seceded from the territory they were part of under the colonial regimen; they feared their domination more than the distant authority of the mother country.[xx] They qualify since then as separate British Overseas Territories: Cayman Islands from Jamaica, Turks & Caicos Islands from the Bahamas and, Anguilla from St. Kitts-Nevis.

For more than 20 years, until the enactment of the Overseas Territories Bill in 2002, the inhabitants of the British overseas territories did not have the status of British citizens and thus the right of abode in the UK; nor did they hold British passports. In 1981 the Nationality Act replaced full British citizenship rights with a new special status of British Dependent Citizenship. Former full British citizens born in the UK’s Dependent Territories could no longer enjoy free movement between the islands and the British mainland.[xxi] Now that migration from Hong Kong (since 1997) can no longer inundate the isle of Britain, a British government policy paper (1999) recognized a sense of overseas grievance and a strong desire to have these citizen rights restored. The residents of the British overseas territories were offered British citizenship and the right of abode in the UK in 2001.[xxii] Considering the argument that such would lead to new wave of primary emigration, the British government argued: ‘(…) residents of the larger and richer territories such as Bermuda, the British Virgin Islands and the Cayman Islands might well be more likely to want to stay where they are. (…) We would not expect large number of those currently resident in the less prosperous, smaller territories to take up the option of coming to live and work permanently in the UK’.[xxiii] Citizenship rights are non-reciprocal; residents of the UK will not have the right of abode in the Overseas Territories, as the size of the Territories and their populations would not allow the influx of possibly large numbers of outsiders. Those in the Overseas Territories who do not want full British citizenship can remain British Dependent Territories Citizens. People who do take advantage of the new status gain the right to travel freely throughout the European Union (EU) and, if they go to Britain to study, are entitled to support themselves by working during that time.[xxiv]

At the end of the 20th century the British government outlined a new direction for the relationship between Britain and the Overseas Territories, encouraging good government in terms of human rights, finance, combating drug trafficking and drug related crime.

The variations are many and some differences are rather surprising, also in comparison to the mainland. Fully 70% of all the people in the British Caribbean Overseas Territories live in territories with a higher income per head than in Britain. Puerto Rico’s standard of living is higher than in Latin American countries but lower than the poorest states of the United States. Half of Puerto Rico’s population lives under the poverty level. Aruba refuses to register same-sex couples who are married in the Netherlands, as married. Civil servants in the French DOM enjoy higher salaries than in metropolitan France. Welfare in the Netherlands Antilles is a small allowance that keeps people far below the poverty line. Homicide on Curaçao is higher (per capita) than in the Netherlands; in 2004 it was 30 times higher.

What Is the Best System?
What is the best system? Some maintain that a comparison of different extended statehood systems to determine which one is the most successful should not be undertaken as this would introduce value judgments into the eminence of academia. Politicians must argue and decide what is more important: political autonomy or social security; Patrimonio Nashonal[xxv] or economic partnership; national identity or public safety. According to this non-judgmental scholarly position, these questions cannot be answered by academics. Moreover, such a judgment would be a very complex undertaking as it also depends upon the perspective one has. For instance the perspective of an islander will be different from that of a metropolitan citizen.

It is not only the complexity of the argument which makes this impossible, but also the fact that any judgment is inevitably normative, in the sense that one should have to weigh up … different dimensions and decide which ones are the most important. There is no such thing as an impartial yardstick to measure the relative weight of material gains (as in financial aid, a metropolitan passport and the right of abode) against the value of genuine sovereignty and an ‘authentic’ cultural identity – or better, to stay away from the essentialist claims, at least a national identity, not essentially dependent on a metropolitan model.[xxvi]

There is some truth in this argument. On the other hand, this reservation ought to apply as well to academic judgment on the differences between independent and non-independent nations. Many a Caribbean scholar has not backed away from statements that the non-independent Caribbean is better off than the independent nation-states in the region. Also this study’s baseline has been from the beginning that it benefits Caribbean territories to have a constitutional relationship with former motherlands. Of course, it all depends on the perspective when arguing these benefits. But one cannot maintain that all perspectives are equally essential and therefore should all be given equal consideration with as a result that no other conclusion can be drawn than that it all depends. Certainly there should be no hesitation in proclaiming that the island of Saba (one of the five islands of the Netherlands Antilles) with of a population of a little more than 1000 is better off to be part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. For certain, Sabans themselves have not hesitated when voting on the island’s constitutional future in a referendum in 2004. Not all, but a large Saban majority opted for the Kingdom’s extended statehood option. Following this outcome and much to the chagrin of the Netherlands’s minister for Kingdom Affairs, a Saban delegation paid a visit to the UN decolonization committee in New York in August 2005. Saba’s complaint was that the Netherlands has for decades dragged its feet in reconfiguring Saba’s status in the Kingdom. Saba now wants to depart from the configuration of the Netherlands Antillean nation-state and become a Kingdom Territory and be administered directly by the Netherlands.[xxvii]

So once again, what is the best system: the French, British, Netherlands or American?[xxviii] There is no best system. Each extended statehood system is a sui generis system of government with different scores on a wide range of issues. The answer to such a question can only be that when taking all into account (which variables, and how many) on average system X is to be preferred over system Y. And yet this rating must be watered down with qualifications of the downsides of the best system. So this is not the right question, it does not help to shed light on what matters most when reviewing extended statehood in the Caribbean. A choice has to be made when comparing extended statehood in a number of perspectives in order to make sense of things that matter today.

Comparing Notes. What Matters Most Today?
The baseline of this study has been all along that extended statehood is a permanent phenomenon, not only in the Caribbean but also elsewhere. That was not always the case. For many years it was believed, at least with regards to the British and the Dutch Caribbean that the post-colonial constitutional relations with former motherlands were temporary and would one day be severed. In that transient perspective not much effort was made to define and regulate these relations. A radical exception took place in the French Caribbean where in one big sweep the Caribbean island territories became Départments d’Outre Mer and as such territories that are embedded in the French state.

Being de facto a permanent form of statehood, it matters how dependable the constitutional relationship with the metropolitan is. What is its mission and what regulatory mechanisms are in place? Can citizenship be counted upon? Are basic standards of government guaranteed? Significant is the makeover from a transient mission of de-colonization to a coherent statehood package, not a temporary arrangement but a more or less permanent institution. In many ways extended statehood in the Caribbean is a work in progress. What issues present themselves as significant characteristics of this ‘work in progress’

Firstly, a review of extended statehood’s ‘mission’ and its ‘work in progress’ is presented, and followed with an analysis of the unity (or fragmentation, or lack) of policy and regulation of extended statehood. Then the ‘who are we’? question of citizenship and identity will be discussed, and a synopsis is attempted of social-economic development (welfare resorts?) and public security (a far cry?) as part of the extended statehood package. A cross examination of a territory’s autonomy, its allure and illusion follows next. Finally an appraisal is made of extended statehood’s coherence and dependability in the Caribbean. Have some forms of extended statehood in the Caribbean become entrapped in Gordian knots that are difficult to cut?

Does extended statehood in the Caribbean have a mission or does it simply operate as some unruly offspring of colonial and post-colonial relationships without much reflection on how to operate in modern times? What is the message and what are the variations? The specifics of the historical background of extended statehood in the Caribbean vary. For the USA, Puerto Rico had to be a symbolic capitalistic showcase during the Cold War, and during World War II Puerto Rico was militarily significant for the USA. The French DOM’s are a hanger-on of the French ‘mission civilatrice’ in the wide world. The British COTs are leftovers from the British Empire (‘confetti of empire’). After the Allies including Britain had won World War II, the British Empire was over. Not until the USA invaded Grenada and corruption and drug trafficking had starkly manifested itself in the UK COT, was there any real interest in London for the leftover ‘overseas territories’. As in The Hague, a laissez-faire attitude with regard to the Caribbean existed in London as well.

The Netherlands may not have expected, in 1954, when the Kingdom’s Charter was enacted, to be still present in the Caribbean more than 50 years later. The Dutch empire had come to end when Indonesia declared its independence on 17 August 1945.[xxix] Surinam became independent in 1975 after the Netherlands could no longer feel comfortable possessing colonies in the Caribbean. As for the Netherlands Antilles, the Netherlands’ discomfort did not matter. Gradually the Netherlands found an alternative reassurance in doing well through development aid. The Netherlands financed thousands of development projects over the years on the Caribbean islands. It was assumed that development aid prepared the islands for ascendance to independent statehood. So a benevolent mission engineered the Kingdom’s operations. A ‘do-good-feel-good’ syndrome was manifest in Netherlands politics with regards to the Caribbean islands in the sun. The Caribbean love for Royal Orange, the name of the Dutch Royal family, exceeded the dynastic sentiments on the mainland. In those days the Dutch were charmed by the islands, instead of being embarrassed by a quasi-colonial relationship.

Many a Dutch politician and administrator, in-office or retired, has declared that Antillean affairs were an enriching experience both to office and personal life. This ‘feel-good’ approach had no strong mission when good governance became an issue. The Kingdom of the Netherlands had set forth in 1954 a rather high mission of safeguarding good governance, democracy and human rights in the Caribbean countries. Since the beginning of the 1990s, it became painfully clear that the Kingdom’s safeguarding role was not regulated but became incidentally activated when good governance was in jeopardy or had already been derailed. It was used as an ace in the hold, in plain Dutch als een stok achter de deur. As a result the Kingdom’s safeguarding role has been compromised and, when acted upon, runs into a finicky debate about colonial intervention and Antillean autonomy. During a presentation of ‘The Kingdom Charter‘ (Het Statuut): Fifty years in the wilderness in 2004 on Sint Maarten, Netherlands Antilles, the question of the Netherlands’s mission in the Caribbean Why are the Dutch still here, please explain? was answered concisely:

I have never been able to figure out what exactly keeps Holland involved with us. The answer I have distilled from several Dutch authors is mostly a colonial hangover that they do not know how to cure.[xxx]

For the French DOM, the extended statehood mission is in some way rather straightforward. The départementalisation of the Caribbean territories implies an institutional assimilation; all territorial institutions operate like their metropolitan equivalents. The principle of republican equality is entrenched in French West Indian citizenship and politics. Laws and regulations enacted in Paris apply automatically to the DOM. The Kingdom of the Netherlands does not recognize equality in social and economic terms for its Caribbean constituency. Solidarity with the outlaying parts of the Kingdom of the Netherlands is expressed in the annual policy address of the Crown to Parliament, at times of disaster (hurricanes) and as well for people in need. These expressions, however meaningful, do not extend equal social-economic rights to the Netherlands Antillean citizenry. Neither do these declarations sustain a cohesion mechanism to balance the social-economic divide between the Kingdom’s citizens. In the wake of the vote in the Netherlands on the constitution of the European Union, the Dutch prime-minister felt it necessary to address the international media about the Dutch no vote and raised the question:

‘What kind of European Union do we want? (…) one that pursues reform and displays solidarity with the less prosperous member states and the world around it?’[xxxi]

Solidarity in the European Union involves strengthening social and economic cohesion in the whole of the European Union through extensive regulation and substantial structural funds.[xxxii] The Kingdom of the Netherlands does not recognize such solidarity; it is a Kingdom-lite.

America’s mission to showcase Puerto Rico’s economic development as a western capitalist alternative in the Cold War has lost its rationale. The Cold War is over and the United States of America is the only superpower left, for now. In the 1990s the symbolic and military importance of Puerto Rico for the United States became a secondary concern. Puerto Rico was perceived more as an expense to the USA than as an important military bastion or symbolic showcase.[xxxiii] This changed since combating ‘9/11 terrorism’ became a benchmark of USA foreign politics. Also USA dependency on oil from Chavez. Venezuela has made Puerto Rico once more a significant USA outpost in the Caribbean. Grosfuegel argues that autonomy or independence of Puerto Rico is today no longer an issue in U.S. politics because there is no real ‘independence’ or ‘sovereignty’ in the periphery of the modern capitalist world. On the other hand, the option of incorporation of Puerto Rico as the fifty-first state of the Union (statehood) is considered by some as a threat. The alleged Latinization of the United States influenced representatives in US House of Representatives to oppose in 1998 the option of statehood for Puerto Rico: ‘a Spanish speaking ‘Afro-Caribbean state’. The local referendums, which were held in the 1990s in Puerto Rico, included this option; the US federal government did not recognize these referendums.[xxxiv] In the 1993 referendum, more than 70% of the electorate participated: 48% voted in favor of maintaining the Commonwealth; 46% voted for statehood; and only 4% for independence.

Extended Statehood: A Work in Progress
In both the Netherlands. Caribbean as well as the UK COT, extended statehood is a work in progress. For a long time the operations of extended statehood were marked by ‘muddling through’ (in the Dutch Caribbean) and ‘benign neglect’ (of the British COT). An attitude prevailed that the Caribbean would eventually disappear from the British and Dutch agenda. Deliberate policy making was conspicuous by its absence. By and large, at the same time, both in Britain and the Netherlands, a more active hold on the Caribbean linkages became apparent. For the Netherlands, the decisive moment was in the early 1990s when Aruba made it clear that it did not have the ambition to become an independent nation-state. From then on it became obvious that the Kingdom’s presence in the Caribbean was not going to end some day but was to continue indefinitely. In Britain, volcanic eruptions on Montserrat and several money laundering scandals in the UK COT energized Britain’s engagement with the Caribbean, which concurred with the time that the New Labour government wanted to make its mark as a new government. Moreover, it should not be overlooked that British engagement became manifest only after Hong Kong was no longer classified as a British Overseas Territory.

On the part of the Netherlands, several attempts have been made to redefine the Kingdom. A ‘Future of the Kingdom’ conference in 1993 failed as the Caribbean authorities did not want to discuss the autonomous status nor the need to strengthen good governance. More than 10 years later, on the eve of the 50th anniversary of the Kingdom’s Charter, the issue of the Kingdom reform once more gained momentum. Both Sint Maarten and Curaçao wanted a separate country status as Aruba had gained in 1986. This would entail the end of the Antillean nation-state comprising 5 island territories. An advisory report (Jesurun) in which all islands of the Netherlands Antilles as well as the Netherlands had participated concluded similarly but added that the Kingdom’s authority should be expanded and demanded regulation and monitoring of the overseas country’s public finances. Another committee of distinguished members of Dutch and Antillean civil society followed this blueprint but appended an expansion of the Kingdom’s safeguards with regards to education, public health, and combating poverty.[xxxv]

All eyes and ears were set to know what the Netherlands’ government position would be. The initial reaction was disappointing: time was needed for study and analysis. And in his letter to Parliament, a few months later, the minister for Kingdom Relations spelled out his conditions for further reform of the Kingdom in such vague and formal language that each reader could make his or her own interpretation.[xxxvi] The conditions that were listed could be read as lofty principles and safeguards, which were already, enshrined in the 50 year old Charter from the start. It was lacking in operational language and did not unambiguously clarify the Netherlands position with reference to the roller coaster history of bygone years. Once again, Antillean politics had a free hand in formulating what it now wished: dismantling the Antillean nation-state, a separate Country status for Curaçao as well as Sint Maarten, and debt relief provided by the Netherlands’ public coffers. As one Netherlands’ insider stated, every other day another page was torn out of the blueprint for Kingdom reform.[xxxvii] In the meantime, referenda were held on the islands which outcomes indicated indeed that a majority of the public preferred a separation of the configuration of the Antillean nation-state. This outcome of a separate status was in Antillean politics immediately translated into an autonomous status for Curaçao and Sint Maarten, with equal or more autonomy than Aruba’s status aparte. Apparently the Netherlands had not succeeded in putting across that since the mid 1980s times had changed and that Antillean autonomy had now to be offset against good governance, public safety, international security and European integration. The Kingdom of the Netherlands still lacks consensus on a blueprint of the kind of statehood that should be extended to the Caribbean countries. Dutch attempts to redraft the Kingdom’s reform continue to be caught up in essentialist claims of Antillean autonomy first, as well as being hampered by the indecisiveness of the Netherlands itself when these things are on the agenda.

For the Netherlands’ officials, any resemblance to neo-colonialism must be preempted. This attitude is frustrating the reform of the Kingdom by skeletons that are still in the Kingdom’s closet. In the fall of 2005, a new Netherlands’ minister for Kingdom Relations explicated firmly that any restructuring of the Netherlands Antilles as a nation state state had to be preceded by addressing head-on and first the financial-economic disorder.[xxxviii] A few weeks later, after strong Antillean objection because ‘the people had spoken’, the minister agreed to a parallel trajectory of government reform and financial economic repair operations. However, the Netherlands position continued to dither when the 2006 budget of the Department for Kingdom Relations once again stated resolutely the priority of good governance including public finance and law and order, and a healthy social-economic order as anterior conditions for a restructuring the Antillean nation-state. Britain’s reengagement with the Caribbean was more distinct and outspoken. The period of ‘benign neglect’ had lasted for decades and the extended statehood package had been rather minimal. But most importantly, British new pro-active Caribbean policy carried an essentially positive message: UK citizenship rights for residents of the UK COT were going to be restored and the right of abode in Britain became once more part of the extended UK statehood package. During the constitutional review process to establish the new terms of engagement, ‘red lines’ were set out for the COT. It was explicitly stated that greater UK involvement might be required in some areas, which up till then the island governments may have considered their own realm. The COT push for greater constitutional autonomy was countermanded by a clear message that the UK government would not go along unless the COT embark on a process of independence. This was a road upon which the COT did not want to set foot.

In the case of the French DOM, as of 1947 a process to integrate the Caribbean territories into the French nation-state was initiated. So, in its true sense, extended statehood does not apply to the DOM configuration. Rather than some degree of extension of French statehood to former Caribbean colonies, these territories were integrated within metropolitan France, and have been regarded as European territories since 1957. French citizenship, including voting rights in the French Republic was part of the deal. Moreover, a mission to ‘catch up’ with France in social matters became part of DOM politics and was sustained by the mainland. The principal markers of the French state include the Caribbean Départements and the DOM’s statehood is as such not principally different from that of the mainland; the (extended) statehood package for the DOM’s is, by and large, the same as in metropolitan France. This makes for significant differences from the more loosely arranged extended statehood systems like those of the British and the Dutch.

Unity of Policy
The French unity of policy on a wide range of affairs and the regulation of its implementation accounts for a more dependable (consistent) relationship between France and the Caribbean DOM. For instance, the review and expansion policy of prison capacity of the French state extends as a matter of course to Martinique and Guadeloupe and includes the necessary finances. The same applies to the restoration of monuments. In the Netherlands Antilles, years of wheeling and dealing about the degree of Netherlands’ colonial interference delayed the upgrade of prison conditions on Curaçao. At one point, the Antillean minister of Justice preferred a loan from a private bank instead of public finance from the Netherlands for this reason. The provisions for the DOM are structural and embedded in the operations of the French state, which stands in sharp contrast to the day-to-day upheavals about what must be done in the Caribbean part of the Netherlands’ Kingdom. All kinds of issues of Antillean government and administration present themselves to the Netherlands authorities as incidents that must be taken care of: inhumane prison conditions, inadequate hospital provision, high rates of school dropouts, oversized government bureaucracy, wide spread poverty, deteriorating neighborhoods. Crisis management instead of embedded statehood regulation frequently determines the order of the day in the Kingdom of the Netherlands in the Caribbean.

Individual projects of any kind and size have been for years the predominant format of the Netherlands financial assistance to the Caribbean countries. In the 1980s and early 1990s the Netherlands’ budget was being spent on hundreds of projects, most of them decided individually and according to proposals by the islands’ authorities. Every so often this format was criticized for various reasons: too labour intensive; encouraging donor micro-management; disrespecting integrated development planning; black-boxing recurrent costs etc. Despite all these objections, the project endured as a strong symbol of Dutch assistance. Before recipient ownership became de rigueur, donor control scored high marks in the world of development cooperation. A project suggested optimal donor control because of its well-defined scope, definitive size and financial specifics. This applied especially to construction projects, which initially formed the core of Dutch assistance. Also, the project format is dear to many civil servants as they can identify their professional self with their projects. In other words, the project was hard to beat. At the same time, management of the enormous project portfolio became an acrobatic exercise.

At the end of the 1990s, The Hague made a strong effort to get away from the task of financing hundreds of individual projects, not only because of the time consuming workload but even more so for reasons concerning the desire to have a stronger impact and coherence of the portfolio. For some, the minutia of an immense project portfolio was a self-defining asset, for others it became a nightmare. To begin with, future aid would be limited to a few specific sectors only: good governance, education, sustainable economic development, and law enforcement. For each sector, a program had to be defined and politically agreed upon between donor and recipient. Only activities falling under these programs would be considered for Netherlands finance.

Being tired of micro-managing an immense project portfolio by the offices in The Hague and the Netherlands Representation in the Caribbean countries, the Netherlands encouraged that Development Funds were set up, first on Aruba and in 2004 also in the Netherlands Antilles. A formal agreement between the Netherlands and the Netherlands Antilles, respectively Aruba, concerning the specific programs that qualify for Dutch financial assistance, forms the policy framework for the Fund’s operational allocations. The respective governments appoint the Board of Directors of these Funds and the administration of the Fund is handed over to an existing or a newly created local finance institution. Whether this outsourcing of the Netherlands financial assistance will add to a stronger local ownership still has to be seen. Equally uncertain is whether the elaborate project administration will be trimmed. But this move does certainly liberate the Netherlands offices in The Hague and The Netherlands Representation in the Caribbean countries from the burden of a project bureaucracy.

What emerges, as a rather surprising difference is the lack of Netherlands’ policies and programs that are all-inclusive for the whole of the Kingdom, including the Caribbean parts. Every so often emergency money is thrown at a problem. Notwithstanding the patronizing overtones, the prime minister of the Netherlands Antilles was happy to take home, at the end of his visit to the Hague in August 2005, a chunk of Euro 4,5 million for combating poverty.

For Puerto Rico, USA federal labor legislation and welfare benefits had been extended to the island since the 1930s. Puerto Rico receives substantial regular transfers from the federal government as a result of various inclusive policies of the metropolitan: social security, veterans benefits, Medicare, food stamps, programs for educational grants, and mortgage and housing rent programs. The combined share of federal transfers in nutritional assistance, housing subsidies and scholarships has declined between 1980 and 2000. Duany states that most of the transfers nowadays are not simply welfare but earned benefits, especially social security and veterans ‘benefits’. As USA citizens, Puerto Ricans pay social security contributions and receive USA social security, whether they live on the island or on the continent. Initially, USA social security was meant as a supplement for retirees but almost one quarter of its recipients live on social security alone.[xxxix] And the veterans benefits of Puerto Ricans who served in the U.S. armed forces are earned benefits. The free movement of capital, goods and services has tightened the linkages between the island and the continental US. The Free Associated Statehood package contains inclusive policies that extend regular mainland programs to Puerto Rico.

Moreover, federal services are operating in Puerto Rico, from the postal service to the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI). Various USA mainland policies do include the overseas Puerto Rican constituency, though on a lesser scale than the wide ranging unity of policies between France and the DOM. In these forms of extended statehood, the overseas territories are included in mainland policies which entails that regular departmental procedures and administration, and structural financial transfers are part and parcel of extended statehood.

Who Are We? Identity, Citizenship, and Migration
In the introduction to this study Miles’ question has been quoted: ‘Can cultural dignity be preserved in the absence of political sovereignty?’[xl] A review of extended statehood may provide some answers. What significance does extended statehood have with regards to Caribbean identity, citizenship and culture?

Extended statehood in the Caribbean shows a wide variation in citizenship rights as well as differences with metropolitan citizenship. In various ways second-class citizenship has emerged, either by the registration as allochthons (foreigners) in the Netherlands statistics of people from the Netherlands Antilles who are residing in the Netherlands, or by denying voting rights for parliament and other statehood institutions as in the USA, the Netherlands and the UK, or by making a difference in withholding mainland citizenship and passports as was until recently the case in the British COT.

Recently 15 European countries became new member states of the European Union and upon that moment their peoples became EU citizens with voting rights for the European parliament, unlike for instance the residents of the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba, and the UK COT. The new-Europeans are now entitled to European passports, which also carry the name of the country they belong to. In a way this passport indicates a double bind, a double nationality. In the USA, the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was ‘a shining moment in the conscience of man’ and did more to advance equal rights in the United States than any event since Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Declaration.[xli] In the Caribbean only the French have been unequivocally clear on full citizenship, including social rights, irrespective of residence on the mainland or in the Caribbean. In contrast, the residents of the British COTs have for a long time been excluded from the privileges of British citizenship. On their part, the government of Netherlands Antilles has announced to use all options to forbid the Netherlands government to make amendments to Netherlands citizenship for any category of the Netherlands Antillean peoples. According to the Antillean government, restriction of free movement of Netherlands’ citizens from the Netherlands. Caribbean isles to the Netherlands is unacceptable and will be fought up to the highest courts.

Caribbean identity and metropolitan citizenship do not necessarily oppose each other; they may go hand in hand. Martiniquans are French citizens. Even in the foreign press there is no doubt that vacationers from Martinique in foreign lands are French citizens.[xlii] On the other hand, Puerto Ricans remain Puerto Ricans wherever they travel, with American passports and as American citizens. Vacationers from Curaçao in Orlando, Florida, present themselves as Dutch Antilleans or yu di Korsou, and Arubans are proud to be Aruban, all with Dutch passports and Netherlands’ citizenship. And the Caribbean festival in Rotterdam has become a major part of the Netherlands’ festival agenda. The DOM’s demand for recognition of cultural specifity has not been hampered by French citizenship and identity or by the political ambition to ‘catch up’ with France. In Puerto Rico, instead of aiming for a nation-state, a vibrant sense of cultural nationalism has been nurtured, one which unites Puerto Ricans on the Island with those in the USA. A common language, Spanish, serves as a bonding metaphor and a cultural borderline with Yankee USA, even though quite a number of Puerto Ricans born in the USA do not speak Spanish, at best a few words of Spanglish only.

Crossing the border no longer automatically changes identity. A deliberate Puerto Rican migration policy has encouraged migration to the USA when the island experienced big labor surpluses as a result of a turnaround of its agricultural economy. Migration became a survival strategy for thousands of Puerto Rican families. For Puerto Ricans circular migration, back and forth, has now become one of the characteristics of a ‘nation on the move’.[xliii] Until a few years ago, Britain deliberately blocked migration of residents of the UK COTs to the mainland. They were denied the right of abode in Britain. Migration to the Netherlands was not sustained by any consistent policy; it ebbed and flowed in correspondence with social-economic conditions in the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba as well as such conditions in the Netherlands. Moreover, varying degrees of separation and discrimination in the Netherlands’ mainland have been significant factors in the rise and fall of migration figures. In recent years, the Netherlands made attempts to block Antillean migrants who cannot prove that they have a documented educational or employment status in the Netherlands. These attempts have severely soured relations as the Netherlands Antilles felt that a second-class citizenship was in the offing.

Until recently, migration was considered a permanent change from the (is-) land of origin to a new homeland. Children of European migrants who in the beginning of the last century settled in the USA tell over and again that their parents had left for good and thought it better not to talk about ‘home’ any more.[xliv] These days, many people do not migrate for good and keep strong contacts with their country of origin by frequent visits, country-based media, telephone and internet. Hirsch Ballin has pointed out that in the Netherlands:

(…) neither (migration) policy nor legislation is attuned to this; on the contrary the illusion is fostered (…) that people can only be at home in one country. This means that a major opportunity, namely the option of a transatlantic Kingdom with shared nationality, is being missed. Were this principle to be embraced, policy in all countries of the Kingdom would have to focus more on educating people in cross-border citizenship, including matters such as language skills and historical awareness. [xlv]

For the Kingdom of the Netherlands, something may be learned from the USA with its long history of immigrants coming from all parts of the world. Italian-American, Polish-American, Chinese-American are just a few examples of the hyphenated identities American citizens use to identify themselves. And what to think of the Nigerian-American Muslim Integrated Community building in Dean Street, Brooklyn, NY, next to Bethel United Zion church. Strong original identities do not necessarily put a strain on USA citizenship, integration and American identity. The notion of the American people has created an identity of its own which is all embracing and yet allows those millions of immigrants to remain hyphenated to their origin.[xlvi] Notwithstanding the all-embracing concept of the American people, American identity however still faces a strong racial divide, so much that for many Americans ‘American’ equals ‘white’:

The United States is a white country. By that I don’t just mean that the majority of its citizens are white, though they are (for now but not forever). What makes the United States white is not the fact that most Americans are white but the assumption – especially by people with power – that American equals white. Those people don’t say it outright. It comes out in subtle ways. Or, sometimes, in ways not so subtle.[xlvii]

Not so subtle was William J. Bennett, former Secretary for Education, who stated in public that the USA nation’s crime rate could potentially be reduced through aborting black babies.[xlviii]

The Netherlands may find fault these days with some of the incoming Netherlands citizen-immigrants from its own Caribbean parts, but on the other hand, the Netherlands may have been lacking an extended statehood mission that better regulates its overseas operations in preventing school drop-outs, guaranteeing better education and fighting poverty. An advisory committee of high standing in Dutch Caribbean affairs recommended in 2004 that the Kingdom should expand its function to these areas, not to be operated on a project format but as a regular government all-inclusive provision. The promise in 1954 of equal Netherlands’ citizenship for people in all parts of the Kingdom has not been substantiated in social-economic terms. Why not? This question was of major concern on a Congress on the 25th Jubilee of Queen Beatrix in 2005, and was not answered.[xlix] Could the answer be an echo of the Kingdom’s colonial and racist past when people in the Dutch Caribbean were treated as second-class people, at best? Does there still exists a racial divide between the countries of the Kingdom that must be held accountable for these differences in Netherlands’ citizenship?

Social-Economic Development. Welfare Resorts?
The extension of the rule of law of the mainland to the Caribbean islands has facilitated economic development and foreign investments in most Caribbean territories. Especially the financial offshore in the UK COT and the Netherlands Antilles which has for many years benefited from the umbrella of the rule of law of the mainland. In recent years, however, good governance adjustments were required to validate this umbrella in view of the standards that were applied by the regulators of the international financial market. Britain as well as the Netherlands has put pressure on the Caribbean territories to bring their fiscal regulations and banking practices in line with international standards. Extended statehood was brought into play to arrive at compliance of the Caribbean territories with these international standards. Caribbean opposition was toned down as the respective island’s banking sectors were well aware of the inevitability of upgrading the standards of banking practice in order to survive in the changing world of offshore banking.

In addition to the economic effects of the law and order component, extended statehood does effect major social-economic variations. Large differences in the mode and amount of financial incentives and transfers from the mainland to the overseas territories do exist. The British COT are by and large self-supportive and do not receive substantial transfers from London. Puerto Rico has been transformed as a result of USA federal and Puerto Rican local tax exemptions and other incentives. The economic development of the Netherlands Antilles has been rather autonomous from the input of Netherlands development aid. Numerous projects were financed every year. The total economic effect of all these projects for the islands of the Netherlands Antilles is difficult to estimate.

Until the mid 1990s a major part of the resources transferred to the Netherlands Antilles was used to finance investment in infrastructure (harbours, airports), public utilities and public housing.[l] With regards to the Netherlands’ financial input, Haan concludes, ‘the case of Curaçao strongly suggests that being a recipient of lasting and substantial development aid may lead a country to cling to unproductive institutions’.[li]

This may apply to the DOM as well. The French DOM are integral parts of France and are thus part and parcel of the regular financial traffic within the French state. French financial input in the DOM social-economic realm, together with the transfers of the European Union, is by and large the most expansive. On Martinique and Guadeloupe, the standard of living is high, public utilities are of modern quality, the level of education is competitive, and social security is adequate. But unemployment is very high. Good education does not guarantee employment. To be employed or not does not make for lack of income. Social security in the DOM is guaranteed by the French state while residents of the British COT and the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba rely on the rather minimal unemployment benefits their island governments provide.

Also in Puerto Rico, despite decades of uninterrupted migration, unemployment rates are high and have never fallen below 10%. Puerto Rico receives a selective package of federal assistance. US federal minimum wage was extended to Puerto Rico during the 1970s with a result that labor intensive industries moved elsewhere in the region where wages were significantly lower.[lii] Federal social programs cut short the social and financial misery of being unemployed, at least in comparison to other nations in the Caribbean region. Some portray Puerto Rican demands for parity in federal assistance and funding as claims that foster a welfare paradise and labor-laziness while others maintain that Puerto Rico has been exploited by US wars and US corporations and thus deserve equal civil and social rights. According to this line of thought labor-laziness is in the eye of the beholder and its stereotype is used against the proponents of equal rights.[liii]

A territory’s own economic earning power to guarantee basic levels of social services has become a nagging issue in the operation of extended statehood. To some extent the provision of basic levels of social services is a matter of political will, distribution of wealth and income, levels of taxation and the way public funds are allocated. But it may also be a consequence of being short of public revenues to meet the standards that are today applied. Especially when a territory’s extended statehood entails a strong cohesion with the metropolitan, including equal social and civic rights, the standards of provision may be too high to be met out of local public coffers. Exactly this equality is for some of the territories a raison d’mêtre to maintain metropolitan extended statehood. Even so, the economic order is affected as a consequence. Wage levels are out of step with the region, the motivation to work is eroding, and the trappings of a welfare nation manifest themselves. This perspective of unintentionally creating such economic disorder is mortgaging endeavors to turn extended statehood around to balance social differences with the metropolitan. The law of unintended consequences requires that a recognition of equality of basic social rights must contend with its adverse economic effects in the overseas territories.

Public Safety
Public safety is a major concern in the Caribbean, also on the islands that benefit from extended statehood relations with the metropole. The numbers of murders per capita are alarming. Puerto Rico’s number of murders per 100,000 is 20.1. This is higher than any state on mainland USA, except for Washington D.C. where this figure reaches 46.2. Louisiana has the highest number among the American states: 13.4.

On Curaçao, the figure for homicides is high and has risen dramatically. During the period 1997-2001 there were on average 16 murders each year, but by 2003 the number had reached 53. The figure for 2004 was 47.[liv] This number equates to a murder rate of 36.2 per 100,000 inhabitants. For a large part, these crimes are considered to be the settling of scores by those involved in the drug trade. According to the prosecutor’s Office in the Netherlands Antilles, Colombians are largely involved, either as victim or attacker.[lv] In comparison with the independent countries in Central America, Curaçao’s homicide figures are alarming. For instance, in Costa Rica it was projected that there were 260 asesinatos in 2004 (based on the figure of 238 per 19th December 2004). This number equates 6.1 per 100,000 inhabitants.[lvi] The figure of Curaçao is almost six times as high. And compared with the number of homicides in the Netherlands in 2003, Curaçao murder rate 30 times higher.[lvii] The homicides on Curaçao are very high in numbers, but must feel even chillingly higher as they happen on an island with a bit more than 130,000 inhabitants.[lviii] It is no wonder that more and more people are hiding behind bars, dogs and walls, when they can afford to do so. These figures raise serious questions about local autonomy as well as the real worth of Kingdom’s safeguards, both at home and on the streets. Indeed, it was not until the Netherlands Antilles. Parliament unanimously asked for assistance in November 2004, that the Netherlands government initiated a ‘Security Plan Netherlands Antilles’ which provided for technical and police assistance, though for a limited time and under the control of the Antillean government. The murder rates of Martinique and Guadeloupe are much higher than in the metropole. Martinique saw 9.6 per 100,000 in 2001 and Guadeloupe 11.4 in 2000. In France meanwhile, a figure of 3.7 murders per 100,000 was recorded in 2001. Also noteworthy is that French Guyana on the South American continent had a much higher rate of 20.8 in 2001.[lix]

The drug related crimes on Curaçao and Puerto Rico are connected to the fact that these islands offer easy passage to lucrative Western markets precisely because of their extended statehood status. The heavy trade of drugs and towering crime figures in the Caribbean are related to easy border access over water and to the lawlessness of neighboring narcotic states in Latin America. On the other hand, the Caribbean authorities make sure to point to the whereabouts of the principal consumers of the contrabands: mainland America and mainland Europe. Where is the home of the narcostate: the country of the producer or of the consumer?

The US Coast Guard and the Royal Netherlands. Coast Guards cooperate in patrolling the Caribbean waters and seize substantial amounts of drugs. But in view of these homicide figures, overall policing is ineffective and does not guarantee public security in the overseas territories. In particular the stark difference in number of murders per capita in the Netherlands and Curaçao signals that different standards apply in the Kingdom. Dutch public and politics would not have accepted such a degree of public disorder in the Netherlands; the policing would be intensified. But not after an unanimous Antillean Parliament had cried for help, some extra police force was sent to Curaçao in 2005, to help out for a limited time. This belated reaction, after the fact, is a telling moment of the Kingdom’s peripheral interest in its outermost regions.

All in all, public safety as indicated by rates of homicides seems to be higher in the DOM and very low in Curaçao, the Netherlands Antilles. Puerto Rico’s murder rate is also quite high but lower than on Curaçao. In the Netherlands the murder rate has fallen to 1.2 per 100,000 [lx] and France’ murder rate stands at 3.7. The figures of all the overseas territories are painfully different from the much lower murder rates in their metropolitan. A most striking difference is Curaçao’s 30 times higher rate in 2004 than the one in the Netherlands. Extended statehood of a Caribbean territory does not provide for a level of public safety that is comparable with the relative comfort on the mainland. Circumstances exist that in one way or another explain the higher rates of violence the overseas territories are living with, but such evidence does not minimize some of the stark differences with the mainland. A comparison with independent nation-states in the Caribbean is needed to complete the picture of extended statehood’s (in-) significance in controlling violence.

Allure and Illusion of Autonomy
In some circles autonomy has become sanctified as a stand-in for political independence and dealt with accordingly. How a territory’s political status is defined, is one of the most debated characteristics when considering extended statehood in the Caribbean. The status of a territory includes the kinds of formal statehood extensions that are in place in relation to the mainland. Various legal, constitutional and administrative terminologies are in use to denominate a territory’s status such as: incorporated/integrated (Département d’outre-mer (DOM)/France), non-incorporated (Puerto Rico/USA), autonomous (Netherlands Antilles/Aruba), dependent/overseas (British territories). The term associated is in use as well; it applies to statehood extensions of Puerto Rico/USA and also to the constitutional arrangement of the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba’s within the Kingdom of the Netherlands.[lxi] These definitions often carry colonial connotations. Grosfuegel summarizes the different alternative statuses which the four colonial powers in the Caribbean pursued after World War II for their colonies: ‘The British established a self-governing federation within an imperial Commonwealth community; the Dutch conceded autonomy; the French annexed the territories; and the US basically concealed its colonial relationship with the semi-autonomous ‘Estado Libre Asociado’, or ‘Free Associated State’.[lxii]

For the island territories concerned, status is often dealt with as a matter of principle. Not surprisingly as such status is historically related to the former colonial position of a territory and its people. In many colonies in Asia and Africa the colonial status was fought with the sword and independence arrived only after protracted and bloody wars, which ended a long period of white overlordship. What is even more significant is the equation of independence with individual self-respect, self-determination and human rights. Consequently the peoples and territories that did not choose to become independent had for themselves to define meaningful answers to these fundamental issues. One way of dealing with non-independent status is to underline the territory’s free choice or autonomy. Puerto Rico accentuates that its association with the USA is a free association; the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba claim that they are autonomous countries in the Kingdom of the Netherlands; the Départements d’outre-mer emphasize that they have chosen themselves to be part of France.

The Charter of the Kingdom of the Netherlands aimed indeed to maximize the autonomy of the Netherlands Antilles and Suriname.[lxiii] In later years, however, Antillean autonomy was questioned in view of a growing significance of standards of good governance. The Netherlands’ insistence on Caribbean self-reliance (zelfredzaamheid) has done more harm than good as it resulted in a split-level Kingdom. Furthermore, the Charter’s equal partner doctrine has mortgaged the operations of the Kingdom with false promises, which are impossible to fulfill.[lxiv] Aruba and the Netherlands Antilles, for good reasons, did not choose to become independent countries, a commendable choice. But some parties define themselves as autonomistas and are as such oversensitive to any Dutch involvement. Right or wrong, Antillean autonomy first. For them, it is more a mental condition than a political reality. In the past, such Antillean comportment has been duly understood and respectfully dealt with. But now that widespread poverty and social dislocation are part of Antillean life, the unbending deportment of the autonomistas has lost this respectability with the Netherlands’ public and policy makers alike.

In the early 1990s, the time perspective of the Kingdom’s presence in the Caribbean region changed. Netherlands politics agreed to the permanency of the Kingdom’s relations with the Caribbean territories. But the Charter’s original definition of limited functions and safeguards was not revised. Citizenship was not redefined to include basic social provisions. Caribbean ‘self-reliance’ and ‘autonomy’ had to take care of such rights. The social and political elites in the Caribbean countries opposed an overhaul, for several reasons. It did not serve their interests and the Dutch intentions were suspected of having colonial overtones. Autonomy was there to stay and a redefinition of citizen rights was not brought up.

As a result, the intervention of the Kingdom in areas where the local governments are failing has become a very complex and very trying issue. A paradoxical situation has surfaced. The emphasis on local autonomy had not resulted in a relaxed relationship with the Netherlands. On the contrary, the wide-ranging autonomy created a very laborious and unwieldy partnership. In significant areas where the Caribbean governments’ performance does not meet the standards of good governance, the Kingdom does not act to safeguard these standards and to improve the situation. The Kingdom’s instruments to do so are only rarely being used as the Netherlands continues to hesitate to trespass the political borders of autonomous Caribbean countries. Half a century after the inauguration of an enlightened post-colonial order, these limitations now result in ugly scratches on one of the jewels of the Crown, its undivided and equal citizenship. What was once a progressive liberal concept has become unworkable in the 21st century.[lxv]

For the autonomistas in Antillean politics, the suggestion that the Kingdom reform must include monitoring of Antillean government practice in areas such of public finance, public health, education and law and order, has become a bone of strong contention. The autonomistas do not want to hear of a redefinition of the Kingdom’s safeguards even when in these areas dramatic upgrades are urgently required, and that already for quite some time. The most outspoken autonomistas in Antillean politics demand that the Netherlands repair the public debt without strings attached or future monitoring put in place. A situation of the Kingdom monitoring essential areas of Antillean government practice is seen as undermining Antillean autonomy; no less than Antillean self-respect is at stake. A bit of pragmatic anti-nationalism would certainly be of help in reforming the Kingdom in order to address the daunting social-economic problems. These problems cannot be fixed with some extra funds from the Netherlands but require substantial political and governmental reforms. One Antillean former administrator bluntly stated why he had left Curaçao: ‘Curaçao is an island loaded with problems and complexes. I really had to leave’. Another senior head of department, and of high civil standing, forewarned that Curaçao’s decline will not turn around: ‘before we come to our senses, the situation has to become worse, much worse; and that will not happen in my life time’.

Much larger nation-states, in Europe and elsewhere, have opted for extensive power sharing at the expense of their national public authority. Monitoring systems are set up to preempt disruptions and to provide support where necessary. For instance, in view of European monetary policy even Paris has to comply with the financial deficit procedure of the European Union.[lxvi] Would this be too much to ask of the Netherlands-Antillean government? The old maxims of national autonomy and self reliance do not apply any more in a highly interactive world where trade, travel and migration, television, internet and, last but not least, terrorism and organized and corporate crime, have made border crossings much more significant than the national borders themselves.

Antillean autonomy is claimed by democratically established parties and elected politicians who, by definition and election, assume that they know what is in the public’s best interest. Several politicians in the Netherlands Antilles have more than once indicated that if they had to choose between the island’s standards of living and Antillean autonomy, they would prefer lower standards than having to accept Dutch interference in Antillean affairs. For certain, a politician anywhere is on average better off that his constituency. On the other hand, a majority of the Netherlands-Antillean respondents did not agree with the statement ‘that Holland interferes too much in the governing of our country’. For this majority, Antillean autonomy must be balanced with the added value of the Kingdom in the administration of justice, fighting crime and corruption, and safeguarding democracy.[lxvii] The public’s best interests may differ from a politician’ claim that running their own affairs is under all circumstances of paramount importance. Autonomy is not an absolute concept, but must be mapped out in relation to other significant political benchmarks such as social-economic development, regulation of public finances, international security and the protection of human rights. The world has changed and inter-dependence among states, from the largest to the smallest, has gained muscle over the once splendid isolation of the nation-state.[lxviii]

The Netherlands Antillean territories. best interest is to be part and parcel of a larger transnational public order which is dependable and in which they somehow participate in public decision-making processes. According to a review of the Council of State of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, the alternative is to be at the mercy of what other, more powerful states or transnational institutions unilaterally, or in communion with others, decide for themselves without recognition of the small-scale world of the Caribbean territories.[lxix] It does not make sense any more to play the drums of a quasi colonial era[lxx] and rigidly claim an illusory autonomous status. What matters today for the Caribbean territories is to be part of a robust constitutional order that is empowered to safeguard democracy and the rule of law as well as a public and social order that is safe and sound for its citizenry, irrespective of their residency. That is at present not the case in the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

Coherence of Extended Statehood
Over the years significant changes have taken place in various characteristics of the operations of extended statehood. The question is how coherent and dependable this form of statehood has been. Do the operations hang together with the mission that is proclaimed? Can extended statehood be counted upon?

It should not come as a surprise that the French DOM is the most integrated extended statehood system. Its mission does not divide but essentially unites the overseas territories with the metropolitan. The boundary between the DOM and mainland France is first of all a geographical and administrative distinction. For most French citizens it is rather unimaginable that this boundary will ever be applied to control the free movement of the residents of the DOM. A DOM is part and parcel of the French State and as such state actions, policies, processes and regulations sustain them as any other Département of the French Republic.

Puerto Rico’s Commonwealth status is less coherent in its mission and operations than the French DOM. Citizenship rights are incomplete. Though federal taxation does not apply, a range of federal programs is extended to Puerto Rico. The USA interests to maintain Puerto Rico’s extended statehood have varied over time. On the part of Puerto Rico, both Grosfuegel and Duany have arrived at the conclusion that a redefinition of Puerto Rico’s extended statehood must not be sought in essential status alternatives. Status alternatives are not essentially progressive or reactionary. More expedient is an approach that reviews what works for Puerto Rico. A pragmatic approach is to question which status alternative will protect and improve Puerto Rico’s ecology, quality of life, and democracy:

Which status alternative will protect, deepen, and expand the social and democratic rights already recognized under the current colonial status (for example, federal minimum wage, unemployment benefits, social security, abortion rights, civil rights)? [lxxi]

The United States’ interests as dominant power in the world have all along been paramount in designing Puerto Rico’s status as an unincorporated territory that ‘belongs to but is not a part of the United States’. On the other hand, Puerto Rico’s interest requires that a range of issues must be dealt with: expansion of citizenship rights, economic development, democratic representation, social justice, and security. Duany concludes that these issues will most likely be advanced within the limits of the associated free state. The victory of the Commonwealth status in past referendum leads to a pragmatic approach in addressing the missing links in Puerto Rico’s extended statehood package. But in the end the USA will determine at its convenience the options and limits of Puerto Rico’s attempts to upgrade the extended statehood of its Commonwealth.

The constitutional arrangement of the British Caribbean territories has recently been revitalized by the restoration of citizenship rights and the right of abode in England. A partnership declaration by the British government defines areas with obligations and responsibilities for both sides such as the environment, financial standards, good governance and human rights. Britain has made assistance and funds available, though in moderation, to live up to these responsibilities. In few instances the UK COTs have been confronted with commands that have imposed British will in the territories. Without consult or input the death penalty for murder was abolished in the overseas territories. The UK government made clear that ‘high standards of observance’ were required on the part of the Overseas Territories in order to comply with the same international obligations to which Britain is subject. The British expect that the Overseas Territories will enact the necessary reforms themselves, but made clear that in the absence of local action, legislation could be imposed on the Caribbean territories.

The UK COT extended statehood seems to develop into a partnership indeed, and one with a limited set of linkages. ‘To be or not to be’ a UK COT is in practice rather well agreed upon without much ado about ‘autonomy’, ‘sovereignty’ and ‘neocolonialism’. As long as the UK COT hold on to their partnership obligations, they are left on their own and take care of themselves.

The extended statehood of the Caribbean countries in the Kingdom of the Netherlands is by far the most ambiguous. The Kingdom’s operations in the Caribbean are still caught in between a temporary development aid-shelter in anticipation of future independence and a permanent structure of extended statehood. In many ways, the Kingdom still operates as a temporary provision and its operations are often activated by incidents instead of embedded in a regulated practice. The Kingdom’s operations have become compromised by ad hoc crisis management of day-to-day affairs. Unity of policy for the whole of the Kingdom is restricted, standards of government are limited and regulation of its administrative practice is deficient. For many years the Kingdom has acted as a ‘project organisation’ to dispense money without much underlying policy and regulation. The operations of the Kingdom basically still reflect the epoch of transitional relations: lofty safeguards, plenty of cooperation and very little regulation. The question is whether the makeover to a permanent structure of extended statehood of the Caribbean countries will ever be made.

After 50 years of Chartered rule, the public debt of the Netherlands Antilles is out of proportion to the size of the local economy. Were it operating in the Netherlands, the main hospital on Curaçao would have to close immediately, because of health hazards. This applies to Curaçao’s oil refinery as well. School dropouts without any perspective on the labour market populate the drug trade in large numbers. And the number of homicides on Curaçao is staggering. The Netherlands-Antillean and Aruban insistence on being autonomous has only added to the Kingdom’s deficient operations. On the other hand, the willingness of the Netherlands to expand the Kingdom’s extended statehood must be doubted. Since the early 1990s, only in the margins of the Netherlands and Antillean politics, proposals have been launched to expand the Kingdom’s safeguards to some basic social- economic rights of the Netherlands citizens in the Caribbean territories. It may well be that in the nature of the Kingdom Relations the option of ‘muddling Through’ is considered the less worse of all other options.

Extended statehood’s design in the Caribbean depends in large measure on what politicians on the mainland decide. Notwithstanding all proclamations of partnership, cooperation, consultation, solidarity and support for their Caribbean territories, metropolitan positions and sentiments determine by and large the statehood package that is extended. Some territories have a democratically elected representation in metropolitan institutions, but most have not. Consultation procedures, hearings and arbitration have over the years made allowances for overseas participation in the itinerant design of extended statehood. In any case the small number of Caribbean representatives becomes washed out in the metropolitan representative institutions. Exactly because of their small size and numbers, the Caribbean territories seek and maintain extended statehood from the mainland. They do not, however, have enough clout to make much difference in decisions about the nuts and bolts of what extended statehood should include and how it must operate. This imbalance in position calls for external controls and reviews, not by the existing Decolonization Committee of the United Nations but perhaps by a body along the lines of s UN Extended Statehood Committee for Overseas Territories, or by a platform organized by the territories themselves. But will the mighty powers, and the not so mighty ones, agree to such external reviews?

i. Helen M. Hintjens, Governance Options in Europe’s Caribbean Dependencies. The End of Independence, p. 543. In: The Round Table (1997), (pp. 533-547).
ii. Conference report. The Economic development of the Caribbean overseas countries and territories: the role of the European partners, p. 13. Ministry of the Interior and Kingdom Relations. The Hague, 20-21 June 2001.
iii. Conference Report. The economic development of the Caribbean overseas countries and territories: the role of their European partners, p. 14 (The Hague, 2001).
iv. Fred Réno, Re-sourcing Dependency. Decolonisation and Post-colonialisms in French Overseas Departments, p.10. In: ITINERARIO Volume XXV, 2/2001.
v. Justin Daniel, Development Politics in the French Caribbean: From State Centrality to Competitive Polycentrism, p. 98.
vi. Helen M. Hintjens, Alternatives to Independence. Explorations in Post-Colonial Relations, p. 35. Dartmouth Publishing Company Ltd, 1995.
vii. Helen M. Hintjes (2001), p.35. ITINERARIO Volume XXV, 2/2001.
viii. In the Netherlands Antilles the GDP per capita (1998) is around US$ 11.000 and in Aruba US$ 16.000. Pitou van Dijck, Opportunities in the region, table 1. In: Conference report. The economic development of the Caribbean overseas countries and territories: the role of the European partners. The Hague, 20 – 21 June 2001.
ix. Ramón Grosfuegel, The Divorce of Nationalist Discourses from Puerto Rican People: A Sociohistorical Perspective, p.58. In: Frances Negrón-Muntaner and Ramón Grosfuegel (eds), Puerto Rican Jam. Rethinking Colonialism and Nationalism. University of Minnesota Press, 1997.
x. Sherrie L. Baver, The Rise and Fall of Section 936: the Historical Context and possible Consequences for Migration, p. 46. In: CENTRO Journal, Volume XI Number 2, Spring 2000.
xi. Jorge Duany, The Puerto Rican Nation on the Move. Identities on the Island and in the United States, p. 282. The University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill and London 2002.
xii. The San Juan Star, Mari Bras. message tempered, but still intact. April 21, 2003.
xiii. José O. Diàz (1995), p. 207.
xiv. José Luis Morín, Indigenous Hawaiian under Statehood: Lessons for Puerto Rico, p. 21/22. In: CENTRO Journal, Volume XI Number 2. Spring 2000.
xv. Sherrie L. Baver, the Rise and Fall of Section 936: The Historical Context and Possible Consequences for Migration, p. 52. In CENTRO Journal Volume XI Number 2, Spring 2000.
xvi. George Drower, Britain’s Dependent Territories. A Fistful of Islands, p. 195. Dartmouth Publishing Company Ltd. 1992.
xvii. Conference report. The economic development of the Caribbean overseas countries and territories: the role of their European partners, p. 14. The Hague, 2001.
xviii. John Zevenbergen, Verslag van stage/participerend onderzoek bij de Overseas Territories Department van de Britse Foreign and Commonwealth Office te Londen, p. 7. The Hague, Report 17th November 2000.
xix. Independent became: Antigua & Barbuda (1981), Bahamas (1973), Barbados (1966), Belize (1981), Dominica (1978), Grenada (1974), Guyana (1966), Jamaica (1962), St Kitts-Nevis (1983), St Lucia (1979), St Vincent & the Grenadines (1979), Trinidad and Tobago (1962).
xx. E.M.H. Hirsch Ballin, The constitutional relationship between the Caribbean Overseas Countries and Territories and their mother countries. In: Conference Report (2001), p. 25.
xxi. Helen M.Hintjens, Governance Options in Europe.s Caribbean Dependencies. The End of Independence, p. 533-547. In: The Round Table (1997).
xxii. White Paper, Foreign and Commonwealth Office, Partnership for Progress and Prosperity. Britain and the Overseas Territories, p. 17. London 1999.
xxiii. White Paper (1999), p. 18.
xxiv. Website: <fco.gov.uk>
xxv. In the Netherlands Antilles, in 1990th labor unions and political parties acted as guardians of the Patrimonio Nashonal and successfully blocked cooperation between Antillean and Dutch companies. The Royal Dutch Airlines (KLM) was frustrated in attempts to participate and upgrade the Antillean Airline Company (ALM). The Dutch Telecom was blocked from participating in Antillean Tele companies. In: Lammert de Jong, De werkvloer van het Koninkrijk. Over de verhouding van Nederland met de Nederlandse Antillen en Aruba, pp. 60-67. Amsterdam: Rozenberg Publishers, 2002
xxvi. Gert Oostindie & Inge Klinkers 2003: p. 223.
xxvii. Saba bij de dekolonisatiecommissie VN, Amigoe, 11 August 2005.
xxviii. Inge A.J. Klinkers, dissertation, De weg naar het Statuut. Het Nederlandse dekolonisatiebeleid in de Caraïben (1940 – 1954) in vergelijkend perspectief, analyzes the Netherlands decolonization policies in a comparative perspective. When she presented the comparative findings of her study to a collective of civil servants of the Netherlands’ department of Kingdom relations, mr. Jan-Paul Dirkse, the department.s director, concluded sarcastically: ‘so we can not learn anything from your analysis for our work’.
xxix. In 1949, after war and bloodshed, the Netherlands finally recognized an independent Indonesia. But not until 2005 the Netherlands was prepared to acknowledge that 17 August 1945 was Indonesia’s independence day.
xxx. Denicio Brison, The Kingdom Charter (Het Statuut): Fifty years in the wilderness, 2005, p. 40.
xxxi. The Dutch position in the EU. Article by the Prime Minister of The Netherlands, dr. J.P. Balkenende, as sent to the international media, 8 July 2005.
xxxii. Mito Croes 2005, p. 79.
xxxiii. Ramón Grosfuegel 2003, p. 60.
xxxiv. Ramón Grosfuegel 2003, p. 5-8.
xxxv. Comité 2004, Investeren in gezamenlijkheid, edition 041004. Website.
xxxvi. Letter to Parliament by the Netherlands minister for Government Reform and Kingdom Relations, 17 December 2005.
xxxvii. Interview with Ron van der Veer, secretary Committee Kingdom Relations, an NGO.
xxxviii. Letter of mr. Alexander Pechtold, Minister for Government Reform and Kingdom Relations to Parliament, Beleidsinzet Nederlandse Antillen, 24 August 2005.
xxxix. In 2005, the average USA Social Security payout is US$955 a month, US$11,460 annually. The benefit can be more or less, depending on the number of years that has been worked, how much was earned and the age of starting taking payments. If the amount is less than US$579 one can get Supplemental Security Income. That just brings the monthly income up to US$579. Source: AARP.
xl. William F.S.Miles, pp. 50-57.
xli. Book review of Ira Katznetson (author), When Affirmative Action was White. An untold History of Racial Inequality in Twentieth-Century America, by Nick Kotz (review). The New York Times Book Review, 28 August 2005.
xlii. A chartered airliner carrying French passengers home to Martinique crashed in Venezuela, killing all 160 people aboard. The New York times, August 17, 2005. Idem dito, de Volkskrant, 17 August 2005.
xliii. Jorge Duany 2002.
xliv. NY Times, August 2005.
xlv. Hirsch Ballin 2005, p. 11.
xlvi. Even building sites make a reference to the American people: Building for the People of the United States of America. A New US Court House. High Street, Brooklyn, NY, May2005.
xlvii. Robert Jensen, White People’s Burden: It’s time for white Americans to fully acknowledge that in the racial arena, they are the problem. AlterNet. Posted August 31, 2005. Editor’s Note: This essay is excerpted from The Heart of Whiteness: Confronting Race, Racism and WhitePrivilege, forthcoming from City Lights, September 2005.
xlviii. The New York Times, 1 October 2005.
xlix. De Nederlandse Constitutionele Monarchie in een veranderend Europa. Congres ter gelegenheid van het 25-jarig regeringsjubileum van Koningin Beatrix. Groningen, 29 and 30 September 2005.
l. Edo Haan 1998, p. 320.
li. Edo Haan 1998, p. 320.
lii. Grosfuegel 2003, pp. 58-59.
liii. Grosfuegel 2003, p. 10.
liv. Bureau of Statistics of the Netherlands Antilles, Moord / doodslag pa Korsou. (Source: KPNA: bureau Communicatie en Voorlichting). The Jaarplan 2003, Openbaar Ministerie Nederlandse Antillen, p. 8, lists for 2002 a number of 45 murders/killings. 11 February 2003. These figures have been checked and adjusted by Shaida van Triest-Martis, Department of Justice, Netherlands Antilles, e-mail to author, 27 January 2005. She lists homicides in 2002, 53 in 2003 and 47 in 2004.
lv. Jaarplan 2003,p. 8. Openbaar Ministerie Nederlandse Antillen.
lvi. For 2003 a total of 300 homicidios were registered by the Oficina de Planes y Operaciones del Organismo de Investigación Judicial (OIJ) of Costa Rica. The figure of Curaçao is almost 6 xs higher than Costa Rica’s score of homicides. In the rest of Central America, the figure is much higher than in Costa Rica. According to the Organización Panamericana de la Salud (OPS), the average number per 100.000 inhabitants is 27 asesinatos. Compared with Central America’s average figure of 27,6 per 100.000, Curaçao’s number of 36.2 per 100.000 is still 13 % higher. Central America includes Guatemala, Belize, Hunduras, Costa Rica, El Salvador and Nicaraqua.
lvii. The number of homicides in the Netherlands has been rather steady. From 1996 to 2003, the highest number was 1,4 per 100.000 (in 1996). In 2003 this number had fallen to 1,2 per 100.000. Centraal Bureau voor de Statistiek, Niet-natuurlijke dood naar diverse kenmerken. Website, statline. Cbs.nl/Stat/Web/.
lviii. In 2003 the number of homicides in Amsterdam was 43, that is 6,14 per 100.000.
lix.  The Ministry of Interior and INSEE (Institut national des statistiques et études économiques).
lx. Centraal Bureau voor de Statistiek, Niet-natuurlijke dood naar diverse kenmerken.
Website, statline. Cbs.nl/Stat/Web/.
lxi. The term ‘associated’ is also applied at one point to former British colonies before they became independent. See Paul Sutton, Two Steps Forward, One Step Back. Britain and the Commonwealth Caribbean: Britain believed the islands individually did not have the resources to sustain economic development and to carry the burden of sovereignty. It therefore evolved a novel form of ‘decolonisation’ (borrowed from New Zealand’s arrangements with the Cook Islands in the south Pacific) of ‘associated statehood’ which allowed for internal self-government but reserved defence and foreign affairs to Britain, p. 43. In: Intinerario, Volume XXV, 2/2001. European Journal of overseas History.
lxii. Ramón Grosfuegel, Caribbean Immigrants in the Metropoles: A Research Agenda, p. 85. In: CENTRO. Bulletin Volume VII, Number 1. Hunter College 1995.
lxiii. Hirsch Ballin 2005, p. 9.
lxiv. Douwe Boersema, 50 Jaar Statuut en verder. In: Lammert de Jong & Douwe Boersema 2005: pp. 81-99.
lxv. Lammert de Jong 2004, pp. 223-241.
lxvi. Only because it is expected that the 2005-budget deficit will remain within the 3% norm of the Stability- and Growth Agreement, the French Republic escaped the application of the deficit-procedure in 2004.
lxvii. Oostindie & Verton 1998, pp. 184-186.
lxviii. Hirsch Ballin 2005, p. 10.
lxix. Raad van State, Verdieping of geleidelijk uiteengaan? De relaties binnen het Koninkrijk en met de Europese Unie, p. 8. Den Haag, februari 2004.
lxx. Gert Oostindie: Nog steeds woont zo’n vijftien procent van de 37 miljoen Caribiërs in niet-onafhankelijke landen. Cultureel en ideologisch kleven er grote nadelen aan hun status; natievorming onder koloniale rook is immers geen eenvoudige opgave. De teloorgang van een bijzondere relatie, p. 32/33. In: Pitou van Dijck (red.): Doe toekomst van de relatie Nederland-Suriname. Amsterdam, Rozenberg Publishers 2004.
lxxi. Grosfuegel 2003, p. 75.

Aldrich, Robert & John Connell, The Last Colonies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.
Baver, Sherrie L., The Rise and Fall of Section 936: The Historical Context and Possible Consequences for Migration. In: CENTRO Journal, Volume XI Number 2, Spring 2000.
Croes, Mito, De ‘reinvention’ van Koninkrijk. In: Lammert de Jong & Douwe Boersema (eds.) 2005, pp. 65-80.
Boersema, Douwe, 50 Jaar Statuut en verder. In:  Lammert de Jong & Douwe Boersema (eds.) 2005, pp. 81-99.
Brison, Denicio, The Kingdom Charter (Het Statuut): Fifty years in the wilderness. In:  Lammert de Jong & Douwe Boersema (eds.) 2005, pp. 35-43.
Daniel, J., Development Policies in the French Caribbean: From State Centrality to Competitive Polycentrism. In: Bissessar A. M. (ed.), Policy Transfer, New Public Management and Globalization. Mexico and the Caribbean. Lanham: University Press of America, 2002, pp. 97-113.
Diàz, José O., Puerto Rico, the United States, and the 1993 Referendum on Political Status. In: Latin American Research Review, Vol. 30, #1, 1995.
Drower, George, Britain’s Dependent Territories. A Fistful of Islands. Dartmouth Publishing Company Ltd., 1992.
Duany, J., The Puerto Rican Nation on the Move: Identities on the Island and in the United States. Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 2002.
Foreign and Commonwealth Office, Partnership for Progress and Prosperity. Britain and the Overseas Territories. London: 1999.
Grosfuegel, Ramón, Caribbean Immigrants in the Metropoles: A Research Agenda. In: CENTRO Bulletin, Volume VII, Number 1, 1995.
Grosfuegel, Ramón, The Divorce of Nationalist Discourses from Puerto Rican People: A Sociohistorical Perspective. In: Frances Negrón-Muntaner and Ramón Grosfuegel (eds), Puerto Rican Jam. Rethinking Colonialism and Nationalism. University of Minnesota Press, 1997.
Grosfuegel, Ramón, Colonial Subjects. Puerto Ricans in a Global Perspective. Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2003.
Haan, Edo, Antilliaanse Instituties. De economische ontwikkeling van de Nederlandse Antillen en Aruba, 1969-1995. Capelle aan den IJssel: Labyrint Publication, 1998.
Hintjens, Helen M., Alternatives to Independence. Explorations in Post-Colonial Relations. Aldershot: Dartmouth Publishing Company Ltd, 1995.
Hintjens, Helen M., What is Freedom? Competing Notions of Rights & Responsibilities in the French Caribbean. In: ITINERARIO. European Journal of Overseas History, Volume XXV number 2, 2001.
Hintjens, Helen M., Governance Options in Europe’s Caribbean Dependencies. The End of Independence. In: The Round Table, 1997, pp 533-547.
Hirsch Ballin, E.M.H., The constitutional relationship between the Caribbean Overseas Countries and Territories and their mother countries. In: Ministry of the Interior and Kingdom Relations, Conference Report 2001, pp. 24-26.
Jensen, Robert, White People’s Burden. AlterNet. Posted August 31, 2005. (Editor’s Note: This essay is excerpted from The Heart of Whiteness: Confronting Race, Racism and White Privilege, forthcoming from City Lights, September 2005).
Jong, Lammert de & Douwe Boersema (eds.), The Kingdom of the Netherlands in the Caribbean: 1954 – 2004. What next? Amsterdam: Rozenberg Publishers, 2005.
Klinkers, Inge A.J., De weg naar het Statuut. Het Nederlandse dekolonisatiebeleid in de Caraïben (1940 – 1954) in vergelijkend perspectief (The Road to the Charter of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. A Comparative Study of the Dutch Decolonization Policy in the Caribbean (1940-1954). University of Utrecht, dissertation, 1999.
Kotz, Nick, review of: When Affirmative Action was White. An untold History of Racial Inequality in Twentieth-Century America, by Ira Katznetson (author). In: The New York Times Book Review, 28 August 2005.
Ministry of the Interior and Kingdom Relations, Conference report. The economic development of the Caribbean overseas countries and territories: the role of the European partners. The Hague: 20-21 June 2001.
Morín, José Luis, Indigenous Hawaiian under Statehood: Lessons for Puerto Rico. In: CENTRO Journal, Volume XI Number 2, Spring 2000.
Oostindie, Gert & Peter Verton, Ki sorto de Reino/What kind of Kingdom? Antillean and Aruban views and expectations of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. In: New West Indian Guide/NieuweWest-Indische Gids vol. 72 no. 1 & 2, 1998, pp. 43-75.
Oostindie Gert & Inge Klinkers, Decolonising the Caribbean. Dutch Policies in a Comparative Perspective. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2003.
Oostindie, Gert, De teloorgang van een bijzondere relatie. In: Pitou van Dijck (ed.): De toekomst van de relatie Nederland-Suriname. Amsterdam: Rozenberg Publishers 2004.
Raad van State, Verdieping of geleidelijk uiteengaan? De relaties binnen het Koninkrijk en met de Europese Unie. The Hague: February 2004.
Réno, Fred, Re-sourcing Dependency. Decolonisation and Post-colonialisms in French Overseas Departments. In: ITINERARIO, European Journal of Overseas History, Volume XXV, 2/2001.
Sutton, Paul, Two Steps Forward, One Step Back. Britain and the Commonwealth Caribbean. In: ITINERARIO, European Journal of Overseas History, Volume XXV, 2/2001, pp. 42-58
Website: <fco.gov.uk>

Bookmark and Share


Leave a Reply

What is 9 + 20 ?
Please leave these two fields as-is:
IMPORTANT! To be able to proceed, you need to solve the following simple math (so we know that you are a human) :-)

  • About

    Rozenberg Quarterly aims to be a platform for academics, scientists, journalists, authors and artists, in order to offer background information and scholarly reflections that contribute to mutual understanding and dialogue in a seemingly divided world. By offering this platform, the Quarterly wants to be part of the public debate because we believe mutual understanding and the acceptance of diversity are vital conditions for universal progress. Read more...
  • Support

    Rozenberg Quarterly does not receive subsidies or grants of any kind, which is why your financial support in maintaining, expanding and keeping the site running is always welcome. You may donate any amount you wish and all donations go toward maintaining and expanding this website.

    10 euro donation:

    20 euro donation:

    Or donate any amount you like:

    ABN AMRO Bank
    Rozenberg Publishers
    IBAN NL65 ABNA 0566 4783 23
    reference: Rozenberg Quarterly

    If you have any questions or would like more information, please see our About page or contact us: info@rozenbergquarterly.com
  • Like us on Facebook

  • Archives