Hatred of the Latin language is innate in the hearts of all the enemies of Rome: they see in it the bond of Catholics in the universe, the arsenal of orthodoxy against all the subtleties of the sectarian spirit, the most powerful weapon of the Papacy. The spirit of revolt, which induces them to entrust universal prayer to the idiom of each people, of each province, of each century, has moreover produced its fruits.

Latin language shall be preserved.

We should ask ourselves with what wretched thoughtlessness the Council Fathers – and today’s continuators of the so-called conciliar “reform” – allowed a handful of anti-Roman heretics to carry out within the Church, and with the force of the Church’s own authority, that attack on Romanitas that four centuries earlier was at the origin of the Lutheran schism; and how illusory is it to believe that article 36 of the conciliar Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium – Linguæ latinæ usus in Ritibus latinis servetur – The use of the Latin language shall be preserved in the Latin rites – could have been sufficient to prevent the demolition of the Latin Liturgy – when it was obvious that the first and fundamental purpose of the reform was precisely that of abandoning the Roman language in favor of the vernacular idiom.

Today we ought to and want to hope that the multiplication of appeals from the ecclesial body for a return to Tradition will induce Leo to abandon Bergoglian “synodality” – an evolution of the conciliar “collegiality” of Lumen Gentium – and to exercise the Papacy without adulterating its authority with contaminations of an antichristic matrix that deny the Universal Lordship of Christ in the spiritual and temporal sphere. And Christ’s mandate to Peter – Pasce oves meas, pasce agnos meos (Jn 21:17) – must once again be exercised in the guarding of the Depositum Fidei and in the faithful transmission of immutable Catholic doctrine, without yielding to the spirit of the world that Peter, at the Council of Jerusalem, had already believed he could legitimize in the name of inclusion – as we would say today – of the Jews who wanted to maintain the rites of the Old Testament.

The Helenians have had a hard time making a living from farming since they first arrived in the 1830s, much like the island’s earlier inhabitants, the Payan Indians. Fishing, turtling, lobstering and conching at a subsistence level were—and still are—an integral part of Helene culture. Each man had his small holding, or “ground,” where he would grow a couple hundred plantain suckers, dozens of holes of cassava and watermelons in season.

Much of this economic activity and these survival methods were commonplace across the Bay Islands. Two exceptions were lobstering and conching, which were developed extensively in St. Helene, mainly due to the island’s proximity to the extensive reefs surrounding Barbarat, Morat and Helene itself.

In the 1950s and ’60s — and long before that — lobsters and conchs were abundant. A short walk along the shallow bar at any given time could provide a family-sized meal. Wealthy people in the thriving city of La Ceiba, a six- to eight-hour sail away, learned of this and opened a window of opportunity for the Helenians by buying all the conch and lobster they could get.

There was one problem — the lobsters had to be kept alive. Catching them was the first task. Scuba diving was not even mainstream in the First World, let alone on a small, Third World island. Rudimentary diving equipment — mask, snorkel and fins — was unheard of, so small, open wooden boxes with glass bottoms were built and inserted into the water, allowing the lobster fishermen to see the antennae, or “whips,” of the lobsters extending from the rocks.

Once the lobster was spotted, a long wooden pole with a wire snare on it was slowly lowered. The lobster was carefully teased out of its hole and snared. This sounds easy, but imagine doing all of this while holding the small wooden dory steady over the rock in question

Lobster was carefully teased out of its hole.

The struggle didn’t end there. To keep the lobster alive, instead of pulling it into the dory, they were placed in onion sacks that allowed water to circulate and were towed alongside the dory. It was not worth making the odyssey to La Ceiba for just a handful of lobsters, so a trip there would represent several days’ worth of lobstering.

Where were the lobsters kept after they were snared and towed alongside the dory, you might ask? They were kept in a pen, or corral, that was built using palmetto logs. The lobsters traveled over to La Ceiba in onion sacks. Imagine all this work, and the lobsters used to fetch 10 cents. In those days, a single dollar could buy quite a bit. The lobster fishermen bought goods with the proceeds. Those included small luxuries like yellow cheese that they could bring to sell back home.

In the 1970s and 1980s, enterprising islanders who had gone to work on shrimp boats in the Gulf of Mexico with U.S. fleets came back with investors. They started seafood packing plants, and the Bay Islands’ shrimping and later lobster-trapping and diving fleets sprang up.

A couple of enterprising Helenians, Norin and Iverson Bodden, followed by Victor James, obtained kerosene-powered freezers and began purchasing lobster tails for export to the U.S. market. That made the process much easier. With demand rising, the lobsters slowly moved deeper to avoid the increasing number of eager divers. Lobsters could no longer be reached with the old wooden pole and snare.

The free diving era began in earnest and general stores in Oak Ridge— such as Gough’s and Lem Ebanks — started carrying masks, snorkels and fins. Those who had relatives working on steamships overseas would have diving equipment brought down. Hook sticks became a popular tool for catching lobster, and free diving became increasingly popular. Besides being a way to make a living, it was also a sport. Helenians developed techniques to expand their lungs before diving, allowing them to go deeper and stay down longer.

Islanders learned ear-clearing techniques to allow the divers to go deeper without having to pause to equalize. At the height of the freediving subculture in the mid-1980s, successful freedivers were capable of diving to depths of 12 to 14 fathoms, with ‘fathom’ being the popular term used by Helenians to gauge depth.

Islanders would dive on Honduran banks or reefs such as Alligator Reef, Coxcomb Reef and the Hobbies, and farther away in Colombian waters. These were magical places, days away from Helene, such as Quita Sueño, Serranilla and Serrana banks, and farther south into Sandinista waters to the Martínez Reefs.

As the Civil War ended in April 1865, orders came down the line: All Confederate officers and soldiers were to surrender their arms at a Union depot. This did not sit well with the Southerners, and many of them chose to hide their arms rather than surrender them.

The period between 1867 and 1869 saw the largest influx, with an estimated 300 to 1,000 Confederate refugees arriving in Belize alone. Many of those refugees continued on to the Cayman Islands and Jamaica, as all were under British rule. The Bay Islands were a less common choice.

The Bay Islands were no longer a British colony by that time. In 1859, the British signed a treaty with Honduras for that country to take over the Bay Islands in 1861. English speakers were allowed to remain without the threat of removal. They were permitted to keep their possessions and land, and they could continue their lives with the understanding that they would submit to Honduran law.

The Bay Islands were no longer a British colony by that time. In 1859, the British signed a treaty with Honduras for that country to take over the Bay Islands in 1861. English speakers were allowed to remain without the threat of removal. They were permitted to keep their possessions and land, and they could continue their lives with the understanding that they would submit to Honduran law.

Basically, the Bay Islanders were left to govern themselves. They were guaranteed freedom of religion and had few Hondurans to contend with. In the decades that followed, they built a remarkable society and established communities where many of their descendants still reside today.

Jackson left on a schooner from Charleston.

Joseph A. Jackson left on a schooner from Charleston, South Carolina, sometime in 1866. He sailed to the Bahamas and then continued on to Grand Cayman in the Cayman Islands. Jackson arrived in French Cay in the Roatan Bay Islands in late 1866 and took up residence on Big French Cay. He met a woman from Grand Cayman, and they were married. Their first son, William Jackson, was born in 1868. Their second son, Oliver Jackson, was born in 1871. Their third son, Joseph A. Jackson Jr., was born in 1874.

Joseph A. Jackson was wounded in the Civil War. He suffered a head wound that was treated with a silver plate fixed to his skull. One of his prized possessions when he arrived in French Cay was a military sword. Jackson died in 1878, and his widow returned to Grand Cayman with their three sons.

When they became young men, the paths of the three sons of Joseph A. Jackson diverged. While William stayed in the Cayman Islands, Oliver and Joe returned to Roatan. The two Roatanians married, had children of their own, and lived on Big French Cay.

Some years later, after a hurricane, Oliver moved across the bay to the main island. This is where the main town of French Cay is today. Joe remained on Big French Cay, where he raised several children. One of his sons was Darwin Jackson, who, as a young man, built a schooner and opened a store on Big French Cay. Schooners at the time were commonly used to bring supplies from the Cayman Islands and Belize to French Cay. Darwin Jackson was Albert Jackson’s father.

Albert Jackson worked hard as a young man. He built and owned many boats. He became a shrewd businessman and built a shrimp packing plant called Agua Azul. Early on, he saw the potential of tourism on the island and went on to build a resort with scuba diving tours called Fantasy Island Beach Resort. This resort put Roatan on the global tourism map and became popular with Central American presidents and U.S. government officials for hosting reunions and meetings.

Joseph A. Jackson’s Civil War sword was passed down through the generations and came into Albert Jackson’s possession in the 1990s. Albert was the great-grandson of Joseph A. Jackson, making him a direct descendant. Albert showed me the sword that same year in his office. I held the sword and removed it from its sheath. It was in perfect condition. As I held the sword, I couldn’t help but think back to all those Civil War battlefields that the sword was likely a part of. I wondered how it found its way, 130 years later, into the small town of French Harbour. Albert left his great-grandfather’s sword in good hands, and I will ensure it passes into good hands after me.

Upon closer inspection of the sword, it bears inscriptions on both sides of the handle. One side is engraved with the words “Mansfield and Lamb, Forrester, R.I.” An engraving on the other side reads “U.S.,” followed by the initials “C.E.W.” and the year “1865.”

Further research into Civil War-era weapons revealed that Mansfield and Lamb were manufacturers of swords and other military weapons from the 1840s to the 1860s. They sold these weapons to the U.S. Army and private buyers. The initials C.E.W. represent Charles E. Wilson, the person who inspected the sword.

I hope whoever possesses the sword in the future decides to unsheathe it on April 9, 2065, and remembers the history it represents 200 years later.

While you and I would have a bit more noise to contend with than the narrator in picking up these sounds, thankfully there are quiet moments when we do. Quiet island moments when we hear what we otherwise would not. Imagine yourself on a wharf at the lagoon in French Harbour at dawn. What is that sound? Imagine wild pigeons cooing in the mangroves, their gentle calls carrying over the dark water.

Since you have taken the trouble to be at the wharf on the lagoon at dawn, listen some more. Hear that sound? That little racket compared to the pigeons? Those are the ching-chings, roosting in mangroves as well, fussing as they begin to take on the day. Then, in the pause between the ching-chings’ racket and the pigeons’ cooing, a sudden, violent splashing erupts in the middle of the lagoon—the sound of a school of mullet escaping a barracuda.

Before taking the pathway to the lagoon, walk along French Harbour Road up the point. In the quiet, you will hear little rippling waves silently and smoothly brushing the white sand just feet from the edge of the seaside road. You may not see them, but there will be small periwinkles clinging to rocks that are half in, half out of the water and green with thin moss. Shiny sharks, each only inches long and with oversized heads and mouths, lie motionless with their stomachs on the sand. They lie hidden between the moss-covered blades of turtle grass in the shallows.

The island abounded with wild hogs, pigeons, parrots and other wild birds.

As a child growing up in French Harbour in the 1970s, quiet could also be found in the middle of the day when the sun was high in the sky. While standing in the mangroves along the canal, you felt your feet gripping the mangrove roots as you steadied yourself, watching a man from the Hill clean a fresh catch of conchs. He had returned from the lagoon and the green and blue waters beyond and had tied his dory in the shade of the mangroves. There, he finished his work before paddling to his home only minutes away.

First, he uses the back end of a carpenter’s hammer to poke a hole at the top of a conch shell. Then, using a butter knife, he expertly pushes the conch from the shell. As he dresses the conch meat with a butcher’s knife, the man carefully checks each slippery, de-shelled conch. You are not certain why he is looking so closely at and poking the de-shelled conchs. Then it comes to you — he is looking for conch pearls. Having had no luck finding pearls, the man completes his work. He then throws the conch waste into the middle of the canal — five heaping mounds in his large, cupped hands. You watch the light-colored conch waste slowly descend in the dark canal water. Your stare intensifies. You know what will soon come.

Tarpon suddenly descend to eat the trash in frenzy. The canal water boils from their sudden turns beneath the surface. Water splashes as tarpon jump above the surface. A few large dog teeth snap, joining in the melee. The smaller and more timid fish eat the trash that settles on the muddy canal bottom.

Those are some of the sounds one hears on a quiet day in Roatan. I look forward to the next time I am in the Bay Islands. For one night, surely, I’ll go to sleep early just to be in French Harbour before dawn.

“Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly, while bad people will find a way around the laws,” wrote Plato, a Greek philosopher, 2,400 years ago. In 2025, Roatan municipality installed 400 CCTV cameras in an effort to identify the so-called “bad people.” These cameras are likely to become part of a much larger surveillance infrastructure. At the cost of losing personal privacy and spending millions of dollars in taxes, the island is on its way to building a 21st-century panopticon prison.

I guarantee there will be numerous unintended negative consequences of installing extensive CCTV cameras on the island. Here is a short list of possibilities: an increase in our taxes, a loss of our privacy, a shift from self-reliance to reliance on government assistance, the future selling of CCTV and other data to bad actors, the creation of a false sense of security, and the unleashing of a never-ending need for more surveillance.

Here is one more reason: Once a serious crime is committed by the Honduran national police —and sadly, that does happen— and it is recorded on a CCTV system, the municipality will be placed under pressure from the police and likely become a party to the cover-up.

The high-trust society that Roatan once was has gradually been replaced by technology and a false sense of trust in government institutions. Put simply, the island’s social capital is being replaced by technocracy. Once that capital is lost, it is extremely difficult to regain.

Security has two aspects: true security and the perception of security. While claiming to provide safety for citizens, security systems often serve to maintain state control and enforce conformity among the population. The carrot is not the goal, but an excuse to impose a surveillance system for the benefit of those in control. While we might argue about who those controllers are, we can all agree—the controllers are not us.

Systems often serve to maintain state control.

In other words Roatanians might be suffering from a case of collective illusion. They may be going along with the idea of creating a “smart city” that could erode the precious freedoms they may not realize can be taken away. The unfortunate truth is that by surrendering your privacy in hopes of gaining security, you could end up with neither freedom nor security. Freedom comes with risk. If you want 100% security, you would need to check yourself into a maximum-security prison with 24/7 camera surveillance—and you’d better hope your cellmate isn’t Jeffrey Epstein.

So let’s not make the mistake other already have. There are places all over the world that have already become surveillance zones ridden with nightmares. They are not in any way safer—in reality, they are unsafe for citizens. The state monitors those spaces and decides which actions it wants to prosecute. Not wearing masks in public, possibly praying near an abortion clinic, jaywalking —you name it— are all offenses that have recently been punished in Great Britain.

Great Britain has arrested tens-of-thousands of individuals for posting memes and criticizing government policies. Every day, around 30 people in Britain are arrested, tried and sent to jail for media posts deemed “offensive,” not even “hateful,” as well as for silent prayers near abortion clinics. The number of people arrested for simply making statements has grown to 12,000 a year.

This persecution of its own population is only possible thanks to media monitoring by thousands of state agencies and 6 million CCTV cameras—21 million surveillance cameras in total—monitoring 70 million British residents. Many of those cameras have one-way or two-way audio capability.

Freedom for individuals in China is even more restricted. China’s Skynet control system—a combination of the social credit system and a state-operated CCTV facial recognition network — has created an open-air prison. The 1.3 billion Chinese citizens and 70 million British citizens can no longer make that claim without the risk of being visited by police or having their lives affected. Let what took place in those so-called smart cities serve as a warning.

Roatan should be and can remain free from government aspirations to constantly surveil us and treat us as poetical criminals. The irony is that this island has a long history of people who chose to come here choosing freedom over security. Whether it was Roatan-based pirates or Puritan colony settlers, they came here in search of freedom, not security.

Also the Garifuna were brought here because they fought to keep their freedom in two Carib Wars they fought against the British on Saint Vincent. Settlers from the Cayman Islands who came here in the 1830s and 1840s were also seeking freedom and new opportunities. While security is a very important part of life on Roatan, freedom has always been more important.

Living next to the sea and living from its bounty, islanders have been accustomed to assume risk as a part of their lives. Many Roatanians died doing what they loved and supporting the families they loved. Living on a remote island in the path of hurricanes came with an understood risk — fishing on commercial boats, moving cargo, toiling in the bush.

Let’s not make the mistake others already have.

When I moved here in the early 2000s, the island was simple and still homogeneous. The vast majority of people were born on the island and knew one another, at least casually. The innocence that Roatan once had —maybe just 20 years ago— is gone.

Gone are the days when islanders were related by two degrees of separation: If you didn’t know someone, you knew someone who did. That connection brought a sense of security, trust and comfort. Today, the island is based on three degrees of separation and is a much less comforting place.

The island’s CCTV program is a large, complex and expensive and Roatan has an unfortunate history of poor government decisions. To mention just three of these white elephants: the abandoned Coxen Hole desalination plant; the José Santos Guardiola garbage dump, inaugurated by President Mel Zelaya in 2009 and still not operational; and the Roatan public hospital building, which was constructed for $3 million and will require $52 million to finish.

While those expensive failures don’t mean the municipality should stop trying, they should encourage skepticism toward new ideas. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” the saying goes.

There are alternatives to CCTV government run surveillance. There are already plenty of private security camera systems that are used efficiently when needed. The other sad truth is that our computers, smartphones, and even smart devices like internet-connected cameras, refrigerators, and smart electric meters are already tools of surveillance used against us. These are employed by security agencies in the US, Israel and other bad actors. Let’s not allow the government to take control of our lives more than it has already.

The entire barrage of lies and fraud that supposedly legitimizes the “green transition” is based on the goal of reducing of CO2. In reality, carbon dioxide is essential for the survival of life on the planet, and reducing it would destroy all life on Earth. And even if global warming were real, it would have no significant relationship with human activity, being primarily caused by solar activity. Finally, the solutions proposed to address the increase in carbon dioxide sound laughable, as they are being adopted by only a fraction of nations, while China and India continue to build coal-fired power plants and use energy from fossil fuels. And in addition, alternative energy production plants are much more polluting than traditional ones.

This theory has become part of the UN program called “Agenda 2030 for Sustainable Development” and is propagated by international organizations based on neo-Malthusian theory, which considers humanity the cancer of the planet and pursues the extermination of billions of people. To make the climate emergency credible, these organizations fund associations, companies, experts, and influencers to sow panic, in an orchestrated media terrorism operation. At the same time, they force governments to censor dissenting voices, branding them as conspiracy theories or “climate denialism,” in the same way as happened a few years ago during the psycho-pandemic farce.

In order to achieve global population reduction, organizations such as the UN, the World Economic Forum, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, and the European Commission use enormous resources to finance and implement concrete projects that are intended to cause the impoverishment, disease, sterility, and death of billions of human beings. At the same time, they guarantee enormous profits to the multinational corporations that collaborate in this infernal plan. Wars, crime imported through immigration, pandemics, mass sterilization (through vaccines but also through gender theory and LGBTQ+ ideology), abortions, genetic mutations and tumors induced by pseudo-vaccines, the poisoning of the skies, water, and food, and electromagnetic pollution: these are the horsemen of the globalist apocalypse of the Great Reset.

They force governments to censor dissenting voices.

The detailed and incontrovertibly supported denunciations made by numerous scientists, philosophers, historians, intellectuals, and politicians are powerless against the media propaganda machine, funded by the taxes paid by citizens, whom none of the governments involved have consulted to ask their opinion. Not a single one of the programmatic points of the “Agenda 2030” constitutes any sort of solution to the alleged environmental emergency: these are merely false solutions to false problems, whose true aim is to decimate the population, enslave the survivors – including by imposing liberticidal measures and social control – and centralize political power in the hands of usurious high finance. This is effectively a global coup d’état which I have repeatedly denounced in my speeches and writings since 2020.

This panorama of widespread corruption among government officials, scientists, and the media, funded by agencies, including government agencies (such as USAID and the European Commission), cannot, however, erase some inconvenient truths. (…)

The Mass for the Care of Creation (Missa votiva de Pachamama?) is yet another confirmation of the disturbing subservience of the Catholic Hierarchy – which is not free from conflicts of interest, just like with the business of welcoming illegal immigrants – for which it will have to answer first and foremost to Our Lord Jesus Christ, who granted Peter the power of the Holy Keys not to pass judgment on the climate – in accordance with a scientifically untenable theory, moreover – but rather to guard and transmit the Depositum Fidei, to shepherd and protect the Lord’s Flock, which today is threatened in body and soul by an elite of dangerous, psychopathic criminals bent on evil.

Robert McNab, along with his wife, Margret Crawford, immigrated to Cape Gracias a Dios on the northeast coast of Honduras. They arrived in 1835 from Edinburgh, Scotland. The English had a settlement on the cape, and there was a fort manned by British soldiers. A few settlers also tried to make a living there.

While there, Robert McNab heard about the Bay Islands to the west and decided to relocate there. The archipelago was beginning to attract British subjects from the Cayman Islands and beyond. When his party reached Roatan, they settled on one of the three cays inside the French Harbour channel.

There is an interesting account of the McNabs from a few years later. In 1840, an Englishman named Thomas Young, an employee of the British Central America Land Company, was on his way to Black River. His objective was to establish an English colony on the Mosquito Coast of Honduras. En route to Black River, Mr. Young’s schooner encountered a problem with the rudder and had to seek help in French Harbour.

Thus the town of French Harbour was started.

Mr. Young states in his writings that a Scotsman with a large family was the only person living there. The Scotsman that Mr. Young refers to in his writings can only be Robert McNab. Young describes the family as well-established in French Harbour. Since the Scotsman was a boat builder by trade, he repaired the schooner for Mr. Young. Mr. Young’s account states that the family was in the process of building a small schooner to trade with Belize, the Cayman Islands and other ports.

Around this time, the Jones family also settled in the town. The two island families began to marry into each other. Thus, the town of French Harbour was founded. Curiously, no one seems to know for sure why the town was called French Harbour, since it was settled by Scots. There is an old, commonly heard story that two Frenchmen were the first people to live there, and thus the place became known as French Harbour.

Robert and Margaret had a total of seven children: five boys and two girls. From 1840 to the present day, descendants of Robert McNab and Margaret Crawford have owned and operated all types of boats. They owned commercial fishing boats, such as shrimp trawlers, lobster boats, and conch boats, as well as general cargo vessels, freighters and, lastly, passenger ferries.

A smaller group stayed behind in Punta Gorda, where they remain to this day a thriving, dynamic community.

Gradually, the Garifuna diaspora spread all over the Central American coast of the western Caribbean, from Livingston in Guatemala to Puerto Limón in Costa Rica. Here on Roatan, Punta Gorda remains a compelling place to visit with unique foods, dancing and their unique language, which contains some French and English words. Until recently, most houses in PG, as it is popularly known, were wattle and daub with palmetto thatch. The Garifuna culture revolves around fishing using handmade dugout canoes with a small amount of subsistence agriculture, but with the recent influx of visitors, most of the economy revolves more around tourism.

The second most important permanent settlements were of enslaved people and slave owners who originated mostly from Cayman and Belize, beginning in the 1830s, mainly after 1834, when slavery officially ended in the Cayman Islands. The Bay Islands population rose exponentially every year and peaked in 1844.

In 1838, with the overwhelming influx of English-speaking settlers, the Spanish authorities declared that all settlers should apply for residence with the authorities in Trujillo. This created some dissatisfaction, at which the settlers appealed to the Superintendent of British Honduras (Belize), Col. Alexander McDonald.

Bay Islands were a center for agriculture in the western Caribbean.

Claiming harassment by the Spaniards, McDonald, a fervent patriot itching for a chance to mix it up with the Spaniards, preceded to Roatan, where at Port Royal, he landed and proceeded to lower the Central American flag and raise the Union Jack. No sooner had he sailed away than the Spanish Commandant, Juan Bautista Loustrelet, lowered the Union Flag and hoisted the Central American flag again. This act so infuriated McDonald that he returned, clapped the Spaniards in irons and sailed them to Trujillo, where he abandoned them on the beach and warned them never to return.

The English settlers enjoyed this protection and were helped in part by the fact that the newly independent Honduras had its own problems of nation-building on the mainland. The islands flourished and even had their own local government set up by the English authorities from Belize. Settlements were formed coastwise around the islands in Utila and Guanaja and on Roatan in Flowers Bay, West End and Jobs Bight, with the main center of population gradually becoming Coxen’s Hole, while Port Royal became less popular and eventually abandoned until the 1960s with the arrival of the first group of expatriate Americans and English.

In 1852, the Bay Islands were recognized as a Crown Colony, and the population under British protection thrived with communities popping up everywhere. By 1858, their numbers reached nearly 2,000. The Bay Islands were a center for agriculture in the western Caribbean and the mainland; boat building began as a Bay Island industry. Sadly, or tragically if you ask a modern-day Bay Islander, pressure was mounting from the U.S. Congress, who claimed that Britain’s incorporation of the Bay Islands as a Crown Colony was in direct infringement of the Monroe Doctrine and by default the Clayton-Bulwer non-colonization treaty.

Britain was forced to cede the Bay Islands back to the Republic of Honduras, an island whose languages and culture were English and Garifuna, not Spanish. Although disappointing, this didn’t really impact the Bay Islanders, who kept flourishing with little interference from an indifferent, incapable central Honduran government.

The island economy diversified from agriculture to shipbuilding and commercial fishing. Growing up around the sea, islanders were excellent seafarers, and beginning in the 1930s, many “shipped out,” taking well-paying jobs on merchant ships, later oil field supply vessels and river-going tugs around the U.S. and the rest of the world.

Some of these adventurous seamen stayed off on the Gulf Coast and learned about shrimping and came back in the 1960s to start up what was to be the largest fishing fleet in the Caribbean. This initiative and tenacity eventually led to the beginning of the dive industry in the Bay Islands.

This later led to the construction of the first cruise ship terminals, which became the catalyst for the development boom in the late 1990s, bringing with it newfound opportunities, industries and prosperity. Many of the descendants of those English and Scottish immigrants or freed slaves with names like McNab, Elwin or Bodden are building your houses or checking you in for your flight back; maybe a smiling young Garifuna lady is taking your order at a seafood restaurant. This is where they have come from.

And what of the old nemesis, the mainland Spaniard, once the foe of the English? They are now here to stay, completely integrated into our melting pot of a community.

With the beginning of development in the 1990s and demand for skilled labor, mainlanders came to the islands in droves and planted roots, much like the 1830s settlers. They thrived, and the second generation of these settlers are now born islanders who speak English and make up around 60 percent of the population.

Beneath the photo were announcements for the time and place of the wake, the church service and the burial. Someone I had not seen in person or spoken to in more than a decade—but who figured prominently in my memory of what the Bay Islands were—was gone. In the following days, memories of the era when he and I moved in shrimping industry circles came to mind organically.

I returned from the United States to Roatan in the mid-1990s with my girlfriend, intending to live on the island for at least one year.
Within a week or two of arriving, we were able to rent a home on the eastern tip of a cay along Roatan’s south shore. On the day we moved in—having few belongings made this quick—we sat on the porch swing, feeling like we were finally settled into the house.

The first thing that enveloped us was a steady breeze coming off the grass bar. A sense of familiarity came over me—I was home. She sensed this satisfaction in me, and it pleased her. Before long, we saw a school of sprats, a gray mass against a large white area on the grass bar. The mass was eluding a barracuda that was on the hunt. The school of sprats seemed to feint the barracuda’s strikes as if it were a single being. After a time, the gray mass reached the channel and disappeared from our view.

Son sat on a wooden chair next to the open grave.

Yellow and red hibiscus flowers had opened along the narrow dirt paths of the cemetery grounds, with the leaves of the hibiscus plants still damp from overnight squalls. Gravestones—more recent ones fashioned by a stone worker from up The Point—stand sacred to the memory of islanders who passed long ago and more recently. A group of Black men, women and children from off The Hill had gathered for the funeral. Mr. Leonard stood tall among them—an uncommon sight, as he was without his wide-brimmed hat, left at home out of respect. While making their way along the paths to the freshly dug grave, the adults brushed the hibiscus leaves at their hips and thighs, the children at their shoulders and torsos. Their clothing was damp in those areas.

The deceased’s adult son sat on a wooden chair next to the open grave, with two lengths of strong rope with frayed ends curled at his feet. He was silent, his face streaked with tears as he watched his mother’s simple, unpainted pine casket. It was placed on top of a varnished mahogany table. Standing near the trunk of the trumpet tree, under whose branches the woman would be laid to rest, a local pastor delivered the sermon.

“Friends, we must tend to our many-colored garden in our dedication to our Christian will and our belief in God Almighty,” he began.

There was one example of Hondurans protesting Israeli crimes against Palestinians during the Gaza war after the Hamas attack and Israeli stand down operation of October 7. On October 23, 2023, dozens of Honduran Palestinians demonstrated in front of the Israeli Embassy in Tegucigalpa. Since then, the long-established and influential Arab Palestinian community has been mostly silent about the plight of their Palestinian relatives amid Israel’s escalating atrocities in Gaza and the West Bank.

There is certainly a disconnect as the 300,000 members of Honduras’ Christian Palestinian community are the third and fourth generations to be born outside of Palestine. Their ancestors began arriving in Honduras from Palestine in the 1890s, and today their connection to and knowledge of Palestine and Israel is mostly superficial.

Most Honduran Palestinians don’t know the full scale or nature of the barbarism inflicted on their compatriots who stayed behind and continue to face Israeli oppression, violence, discrimination and now genocide. A Honduran Palestinian businessman told me that many in his community are afraid of being accused of anti-Semitism and facing potential consequences. Simply acknowledging that a systematic genocide may be occurring in Gaza is viewed by some as anti-Semitic.

It is hard not to notice. Since October 2023, Israeli military actions have resulted in the deaths of many Christian civilians in Gaza who have nothing to do with Hamas. In October 2023 Israeli military bombed a Christian orthodox church and murdered 18 Christians. In December, 2023 Israeli snipers executed two Palestinian women on Gaza Holy Family Catholic church property. In July 2025 Israeli soldiers fired a tank shell at a cross of the same church killing three, and wounding a catholic priest. While this all fell on death ears in Honduras, it does seem that the Israelis don’t like Christians very much.

One person who spoke with concern about the plight of Palestinians was president Xiomara Castro. In November 2023, the Honduran government recalled its ambassador to Israel for consultations due to escalating massacres of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. President Castro described Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide during a U.N. speech in September 2024.

Still, words have not turned into actions. Honduras is nowhere near recognizing Palestine as an independent state or moving its embassy from Jerusalem back to Tel Aviv. In fact, Honduras remains firmly in the pro-Zionist camp as it continues to support Israel’s military by purchasing 15 Black Mamba military vehicles.

Pro-Zionist sentiment is strong in Honduras. Israeli flags are flown throughout the country. Hondurans increasingly wear the Star of David around their necks, and taxi drivers display the Israeli emblem on their vehicles.

Honduran roots of Zionism and judeophilia run deep, well over a century. The country now counts three of its presidents to be Jewish: Juan Lindo, Ricardo Maduro and Juan Orlando Hernández.

In fact, you could argue that there was a fourth Jewish president of Honduras who ruled the country from 1911 well into the 1950s. Samuel Zemurray, the Banana King, was responsible for the 1911 Honduran presidential coup that secured land and concessions for his United Fruit banana company. American mercenaries hired by Zemurray deposed President Miguel Dávila and made Honduras his “banana republic.” Zemurray installed his puppet, Manuel Bonilla, as president and received 20,000 acres of land in return.

After President Bonilla’s death in 1913, Zemurray continued to be a virtual puppet master of several other Honduran presidents. In 1947, the World Zionist Organization tasked Zemurray with delivering Honduras’ U.N. vote in support of the creation of the state of Israel. Reportedly, in a personal phone call, Zemurray tried to bribe then-Honduran President Tiburcio Carías Andino. Because of pressure from the Honduran Palestinian community, Honduras abstained from voting for Israel.

Since then and with plenty of CIA help, Christian Zionism has made many inroads in Honduras. CIA fronts such as World Vision, USAID and Protestant Church World Service for many decades worked to undermine the cohesiveness of Honduras society. Since 1950s CIA, what could be considered an Israeli captured agency, promoted establishing and expansion of Protestant churches in Latin America. The excuse given was that Protestants were more anti communist and a good alternative to Liberation Theology movement preached in many Catholic parishes.

Israel’s investment in JOH obviously paid off.

The percentage of Catholics in the country fell from 97% in the 1960s to 47% today. Protestant denominations undermined the Catholic cohesion of Honduran society. Religiously divided Honduras is much easier to manipulate, with one denomination pitted against another.

Sixty years later, those Catholic-to-Protestant converts have not only become Zionists, they are actually converting to Judaism. According to El Heraldo, 37 families converted to Judaism and, in 2022, established Honduras’ first synagogue.

The San Pedro Sula Mishkan Shlomo synagogue members advertise their plans to judaise and convert thousands of Hondurans. The plan is for the expanded synagogue to be a six story tall, shaped like a Star of David building, and be able to accommodate 456 people. This would make it the biggest synagogue in Latin America.

Ex-President Juan Orlando Hernández was key in expansion of judeophilia and Zionism in Honduras. Just in terms of economy, according School of the Americas, between 2013 and 2019 Honduras purchased $342 million in military and surveillance equipment from Israel. Basically Honduras has been supporting Israel to the tune of around $5 million a month for that period.

Ex-President Juan Orlando Hernández was key in expansion of judeophilia and Zionism in Honduras. Just in terms of economy, according School of the Americas, between 2013 and 2019 Honduras purchased $342 million in military and surveillance equipment from Israel. Basically Honduras has been supporting Israel to the tune of around $5 million a month for that period.

Road to conversion of Juan Orlando Hernández begun in early 1990s when he completed a one year Mashav leaders course in Israel. Israel’s investment in JOH obviously paid off as he learned Hebrew, moved Honduras’ embassy to Jerusalem in 2021 converted to Judaism with his entire family in 2021. The last one right before going to a US jail for 45 years convicted of decade’s long drug and arms smuggling operation.

Honduras is likely getting set up for a rough ride. Israel funded military dictatorships where even CIA would not venture. Israel trained and supplied arms to many bad actors that destabilized the region: genocidal regime in Guatemala in 1980s, Colombian drug smuggling death squads, Los Zetas drug lord Heriberto Lazcano. “Israel has given its soldiers practical training in the art of oppression and in methods of collective punishment.

Some of those officers choose to make use of their knowledge in the service of dictators,” said Israeli general Mattityahu Peled.

Honduras will likely become an increasingly polarized and violent society.

There is also a growing Israeli pressure on the Honduran public by co-opting its anti Gaza genocide sentiment into nebulous movements. The normally restrained Honduran Ministry of Foreign Affairs complained that Israeli Ambassador Nadav Goren meddled in internal Honduran affairs by meeting with Protestant church leaders preparing for the August 16 March for Peace and Democracy. “We express to the Honduran people our deep discomfort at their participation in said public event. The involvement of a diplomat not only ignores his limitations,” stated the Honduran ministry.

There are plenty of other players seeping discord. Until its recent defunding by the Trump administration, San Pedro Sula was also home to the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS). The worldwide HIAS organization does not assist Palestinians, Arabs or Christians in moving to Israel, but used U.S. tax dollars to help move undocumented migrants through Honduras to the United States.

For decades, certain interest groups have promoted racial resentment —particularly among Black communities— while fostering a sense of guilt among white, European and Christian populations. In Honduras, this strategy is reflected in the 23-year-old movement known as the Fraternal Organization of Honduran Blacks (OFRANEH), which has received funding from organizations such as American Jewish World Service and the Open Society Foundations, founded by George Soros. These groups have been involved in fermenting revolutions, protests and underhanded political activism around the world.

Just as with organizations such as Black Lives Matter and ANTIFA — which was recently designated by the U.S. as a terrorist organization — OFRANEH fosters division, racial tension, grievances and expectations of compensation in the historically well-integrated Garifuna community.

Honduras, in the second quarter of the 21st century, will likely become an increasingly polarized and violent society. Powerful interest groups are working hard to implement this, and Roatan is increasingly a party to those tensions. In September 2025, OFRANEH conducted demonstrations in Cayos Cochinos, and in March 2025, there were protests in Diamond Rock. Tensions on Roatan are just starting to heat up.