The New Armada: How Narrative Power Became the Battleground for Black Liberation

Barbados Prime Minister Mia Mottley speaks at the opening ceremony of the 49th Regular Meeting of the Conference of Heads of Government of Caricom in Jamaica on Sunday. COURTESY:CARICOM

Barbados Prime Minister Mia Mottley's speech at the opening ceremony of the 49th Regular Meeting of the Conference of Heads of Goverment of Caricom in Jamaica included an urgent warning about the "new armada" that seeks to "control our mind" isn't just Caribbean political rhetoric—it's a diagnosis of the exact crisis our research that we conducted in partnership with Reframe uncovered across Latin America. Through Proyecto ¡Oye!, we documented how Black and Indigenous communities in Colombia and Panama are fighting the same battle for narrative sovereignty that Mottley describes, and losing ground every day.

When the Prime Minister speaks of needing to "own our own satellites," she's identifying what our study revealed as the fundamental weakness of human rights organizations across the region: the infrastructure gap that leaves our communities vulnerable to narrative conquest.

In Colombia, 78% of the organizations we interviewed lack basic communications strategies. In Panama, 66% need narrative research and direct action strategies just to begin countering the stories told about them. These aren't just technical deficiencies—they're the digital-age equivalent of being defenseless against colonial invasion.

The Afro-descendant communities we interviewed face a particularly cruel irony: they're fighting for their lives against state violence and corporate extraction, but they lack the digital infrastructure to tell their own stories. In Panama's semi-urban areas where Black residents live, internet access remains so limited that social media strategies—the primary tools of modern narrative warfare—are essentially useless.

The Conservative Counter-Narrative Machine

Our research revealed something that directly validates Mottley's warning about the "new armada, or the new flotilla." Conservative sectors across Latin America have built a sophisticated narrative machine that systematically delegitimizes the human rights of gender-expansive populations, women, and racial minorities. They understand exactly what the Prime Minister means about controlling information.

These conservative forces don't just oppose our policy positions—they've invested in the infrastructure to shape reality itself. They have the resources, the platforms, and the strategic communications capacity that our study found human rights organizations desperately lack. While we struggle to secure basic funding for communications staff, they're building media empires.

The organizations we interviewed feel overwhelmed by this narrative power imbalance. They see conservative sectors wielding "great deal of power and influence" through their narratives, but they don't have the capacity to mount effective counter-narratives. This is precisely the mental colonialism Mottley warns against—when oppressed communities internalize their own powerlessness in the face of dominant narratives.

When Mottley invokes Marcus Garvey's call to "emancipate our mind from mental slavery," she's connecting our current crisis to a longer history of Black resistance. But our research shows that mental emancipation in 2025 requires something Garvey couldn't have imagined: the ability to control digital infrastructure, generate multimedia content, and build narrative power at scale.

The human rights organizations we interviewed understand this intuitively. They know that communications must be "integrated as a priority into the overall strategy" of their work. They recognize that context matters—that narrative strategies must be adapted to local conditions and resources. But knowing and doing are different things.

The Latin American Fund for Communications and Narrative Power

One of our research participants proposed something that directly addresses Mottley's call for narrative sovereignty: a "Latin American Fund for Communications and Narrative Power." This isn't just about funding—it's about recognizing that narrative infrastructure is as essential to liberation as any other form of infrastructure.

Such a fund would address the specific needs our research identified:

• In Colombia: communications strategies and social media capacity

• In Panama: narrative research and direct action strategies

• Across the region: equipment, training, and sustainable organizational capacity

But more importantly, it would represent a shift from reactive to proactive narrative work. Instead of constantly defending against conservative narratives, Black and Indigenous communities could build the infrastructure to define their own realities.

The Prime Minister is right that "the price of sovereignty now extends to our ability to control our information and generate our content." Our research proves this isn't hyperbole—it's the lived reality of organizations fighting for justice across Latin America.

The organizations we interviewed are already paying the price of narrative vulnerability. They're losing policy battles not because their positions are wrong, but because they lack the communications infrastructure to make their case effectively. They're seeing their communities' stories distorted by media outlets linked to "economic and political powers that be."

But our research also points toward solutions. The organizations we interviewed don't just need funding—they need what Mottley calls for: the ability to "generate our own content because it is only us who know our reality."

This means:

• Participatory methodology for narrative research that centers community voices

• Collective spaces for reflection and analysis of communications infrastructure

• Contextualized training that responds to local sociocultural landscapes

• Multi-platform strategies that reach desired audiences directly

Most importantly, it means recognizing that narrative power-building is not a luxury for human rights organizations—it's a survival necessity.

"If ever there was a time for us to listen to these entreaties, it is now." said the Prime Minister. Our research confirms this timing. Conservative sectors are investing heavily in narrative infrastructure while human rights organizations struggle with basic communications capacity.

The choice is stark: we can continue to be "victims of other people's judgment as to who we are and what we stand for," or we can build the narrative infrastructure necessary for true sovereignty.

The organizations we interviewed in Colombia and Panama are ready to make this choice. They understand that communications must be integrated into all organizational activities. They know that narrative power-building requires investment in capacity, sustainability, and adaptability.

What they need now is what Mottley calls for: the resources to own their own satellites, generate their own content, and resist the new armada that seeks to control their minds.

The battle for narrative sovereignty is the battle for liberation itself. And as our research shows, it's a battle we can win—if we choose to fight it with the seriousness and strategic thinking it demands.

The urgent question Prime Minister Mottley's warning raises is this: If liberation movements across Latin America and the Caribbean are to survive this new form of conquest, what concrete steps must we take today to prepare for tomorrow's battles? What does it actually mean to "own our own satellites" when most of our organizations can't even afford consistent internet access? And how do we move from recognizing the threat to building the infrastructure of resistance before it's too late?