On Nov. 3, the Dominican Republic postponed the 10th Summit of the Americas, which it had been scheduled to host in December. The announcement cast a shadow over the future of Western Hemisphere relations. An event meant to provide an opportunity for Latin American and Caribbean leaders to collectively engage with the United States instead became emblematic of just how fraught U.S. relations with the region are.
The Dominican government cited “profound divergences” hindering regional dialogue, likely a reference to repeated U.S. strikes on alleged drug boats in the Caribbean and talk of a potential U.S. intervention in Venezuela. Yet postponement of the decades-old summit—vaguely pushed to 2026, with no new date set—reveals a deeper structural dysfunction in the U.S.-Latin America relationship, stemming from the Trump administration’s tough and mostly unilateral approach to regional affairs.
Many countries in the region appear more willing to placate Washington than risk confrontation. Even the Dominican Republic’s postponement announcement carefully noted its commitment to working with the United States to ensure an effective summit. As tensions escalate, the likelihood of the event being outright canceled grows.
If the United States wants to fulfill its lofty goals in the region, it is in its interest to cooperate in future forums such as the Summit of the Americas. Although confrontation may occur, the summits can serve as an important forum to air grievances, identify shared challenges, and, when necessary, for other countries to voice their opposition to U.S. action (or inaction) in the Americas.
Regional leaders should view the next summit not just as a one-off event, but as part of a larger process—one that pushes the United States to see itself as a genuine member of the hemisphere and encourages collective problem-solving, even when Washington refuses to cooperate.
At the end of the Cold War, the United States sought to turn a new page in its relationship with Latin America and the Caribbean, inviting all democratically elected heads of state and government—except Cuba’s Fidel Castro—to attend the first Summit of the Americas in Miami in 1994. The meeting elevated hemispheric dialogue beyond the Washington-headquartered Organization of American States (OAS), producing a declaration of principles and an ambitious plan of action, including a commitment to creating a Free Trade Area of the Americas by 2005. The event concluded with “great shows of optimism,” Brazil’s Folha de S. Paulo reported at the time; then-U.S. President Bill Clinton called it the “spirit of Miami.”
But sustaining that spirit has proved challenging. On one hand, the summit process has yielded meaningful victories such as the Inter-American Democratic Charter, the Lima Commitment on Corruption, and the recent Los Angeles Declaration on Migration and Protection. These mechanisms reflected growing recognition that issues such as corruption and migration required a shared regional response.
Leaders have also used the summits to push for changes in U.S. policy. At the 2012 summit in Cartagena, Colombia, for example, they pressured the Obama administration to invite Cuba to the 2015 Panama City meeting, signaling a shift in U.S. policy from long-standing isolation of the island to engagement.
Yet the summits have faced their share of criticism and setbacks. The much-heralded Free Trade Area of the Americas became a point of contention and was abandoned at the 2005 meeting in Mar del Plata, Argentina, largely due to left-wing Latin American governments’ wariness about free trade and growing discontent over U.S. unilateralism.
These governments’ calls for inclusion have also gone unanswered by summit hosts: Only one of the nine previous summits—the 2015 meeting—invited representatives from all 35 countries in the Americas. Cuba was excluded through 2012, Venezuela was disinvited in 2018, and Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela were not invited to the U.S.-hosted summit in 2022. The Dominican Republic had announced it would make the same choice at this summit.
The postponement of this year’s meeting highlights just how far hemispheric relations have drifted from the vision of multilateralism that Clinton and regional leaders laid out more than three decades ago. What was meant to be the region’s first major gathering involving U.S. President Donald Trump since he began his second term in January has become a symbol of deepening political divisions. Caribbean leaders now face a U.S. administration that—while heavily focused on the region—has taken a much harder line than any previous administration since the end of the Cold War, moving away from multilateralism and trade integration. Instead of overtures of regional collaboration, leaders are more likely to hear calls for a Monroe Doctrine 2.0 from Washington.
The Trump administration has made the Western Hemisphere a key foreign-policy focus. Secretary of State Marco Rubio chose the region for his first international trip, ahead of which he noted the need for the United States to conduct an “Americas First” foreign policy. A draft of the administration’s new National Defense Strategy reportedly places a heavy emphasis on the region, with particular focus on immigration, securing the southern border, combating drug cartels, and, to a lesser extent, countering Chinese influence.
But rather than pursue cooperative solutions, the Trump administration has largely relied on tariffs, threats of military action and further economic coercion, and unilateral moves that prioritize U.S. domestic concerns. Even before taking office, Trump discussed taking military action in Mexico to combat drug cartels and, in December 2024, posted on social media that the United States could take back the Panama Canal—a claim he reiterated during his inaugural address.
Although the administration has put pressure on both Mexico and Panama to gain concessions, the United States has not carried out direct military activity against either country so far. However, the administration has rapidly expanded its naval presence in the Caribbean, striking numerous alleged drug boats and killing dozens of people in operations that have drawn significant criticism regarding their legality. This buildup of forces has led to growing concerns that the United States may use lethal force inside Venezuelan territory.
The administration has also made clear its distaste for multilateralism, withdrawing from several major United Nations bodies, cutting international funding, and questioning U.S. participation in the OAS. Trump’s former special envoy for Latin America, Mauricio Claver-Carone, openly noted his preference for engaging with countries in the region on a bilateral basis rather than through sub-regional forums.
Despite the aggressive posturing from Washington, Latin American and Caribbean governments have not responded uniformly to Trump’s hard-line tactics. Divisions among leaders on how to respond to Washington have deepened regional polarization.
Some leaders have aligned themselves with Washington, often out of shared strategic interest. Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele, for example, has been a close ally on deportations, accepting U.S. deportees of various nationalities, while the United States’ recent extension of a financial lifeline to Argentine President Javier Milei helped stabilize a major strategic partner in South America that has recently grown closer to China.
Other countries have put up resistance. Colombia initially refused to accept U.S. deportation flights, though it eventually walked back its position after Trump threatened steep retaliatory tariffs. President Gustavo Petro has also voiced opposition to Trump’s actions in the Caribbean. Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, meanwhile, became vocal about defending Brasília’s sovereignty in the face of pressure from the Trump administration amid the trial and conviction of former far-right President Jair Bolsonaro.
The next summit—if it occurs at all—may not produce many concrete outcomes. Other recent regional gatherings, such as meetings of the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States, have failed to reconcile divergent viewpoints—and adding the United States to the mix will make reaching consensus even more difficult. However, this does not mean that the summit should simply be canceled or postponed.
The hemisphere’s most pressing challenges—including climate change, organized crime, migration, and managing relations with the United States and other major powers—demand coordinated responses. No single country has the leverage to tackle them alone. The summit also presents a critical opportunity for Latin American countries to define their relationship with the United States and secure meaningful concessions from Washington. Even if countries fail to engage the United States collectively, some leaders may win individual victories.
The region may at times need to defy Washington’s will on some of these major issues. Trump’s presidency will eventually end, and the region will need to have continued to develop the necessary diplomatic tools and building blocks to address shared concerns.
This will require that countries do not simply boycott the summit to signal their disapproval of U.S. actions, as several did in 2022 in response to Washington’s decision to exclude Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela over human rights concerns. As Antigua and Barbuda’s ambassador to the OAS, Ronald Sanders, put it, “Attendance is leverage, not endorsement.”
The Summits of the Americas have faced their share of challenges and have not fully achieved the ideals first laid out in Miami. Even with the 10th summit delayed, its eventual happening still offers Latin American and Caribbean leaders a chance to revitalize hemispheric commitments and set a new course—one shaped by priorities set in Bogotá, Brasília, and beyond, not just Washington.