With Eman­ci­pa­tion Day just past, imag­ine an is­land with a church, a ceme­tery and chil­dren run­ning be­neath co­conut trees. Fam­i­lies have lived there for gen­er­a­tions and their dead lie with­in earshot of the sea. Then, in dis­tant cap­i­tals, men un­fold a map and de­cide that the is­land is strate­gi­cal­ly in­dis­pens­able. Its peo­ple are told, per­haps not in words, but un­mis­tak­ably in pol­i­cy, that their homes ob­struct se­cu­ri­ty, their his­to­ry can be fold­ed in­to a suit­case, and their be­long­ings mat­ter less than a mil­i­tary base.

Would in­ter­na­tion­al law save them? Would the flag above the ad­min­is­tra­tive build­ing mat­ter? Would a great pow­er see a liv­ing com­mu­ni­ty, or mere­ly use­ful land with in­con­ve­nient peo­ple up­on it?

The Chagos­sians know the an­swer. This Eman­ci­pa­tion Day, the Caribbean must know it too and act up­on it.