A look inside the steady vision of TCI’s Premier C. Washington Misick

By Davidson E. Louis ~ Photos By Peter Wagner

“The Compass and the Clock” is a metaphor that Turks & Caicos Islands Premier Charles Washington Misick lives by. It symbolizes purpose over pressure, and time guided by values.

There is something so striking about TCI Premier C. Washington Misick’s honesty. He doesn’t speak like a politician—he doesn’t dodge, deflect, or perform. When he speaks, you want to listen.

He hails from the “garden” island of North Caicos, where tradition walks hand in hand with deep family values—values that anchor every decision he makes. It was there, in that rich soil, that he inherited not only his father’s name—Charles—but also his unwavering moral compass. His life has been shaped by principle, culture, and a self-discipline that never wavers.

Writer Davidson Louis (at right) was especially struck by Premier Misick’s honesty and unwavering moral compass, shaped by his childhood in North Caicos.

There’s a steady flame inside him. He pauses between sentences and injects quotes that bring home what he says. He has a caring nature so vivid, it’s almost blinding. When he speaks, his low-toned voice commands attention—not through volume, but through depth. Across the room, he often glances at the First Lady, the sharp and composed Delthia Misick. She is his equal. Her street-smarts and clarity of thought keeps him grounded, and together, they are balance personified. 

But long before politics and podiums—before titles, appointments, and accolades—Charles Washington Misick was simply a boy of the land. A son of subsistence. Raised in a humble household that farmed, fished, and survived on grit and determination, he was shaped by a tenacious and resourceful mother. “My mother turned a penny into a dollar,” he said. They didn’t have much, but what they lacked in material wealth, they made up for in resilience. From the rhythm of the tides to the grind of dawn-to-dusk labor, his childhood instilled lessons in fortitude long before he could define the word. It planted a truth that would become his foundation: “Character is built, not inherited.” 

Still, what he did inherit mattered deeply. His father wasn’t a man of speeches. He was a man of action. A farmer, a fisherman, a provider, and all-around hero who piloted boats between North and South Caicos, stocking shops and feeding families. His lessons weren’t preached—they were lived. “Do the right thing,” his father would say. “And instinctively, we know what that is.” That principle remains the Premier’s north star. When faced with difficult choices, he doesn’t ask what is easy or popular—he asks what is right.

“I didn’t have a childhood,” he says—not with bitterness, but with the quiet clarity of someone who lived it. “I worked from the time I could work.” There were no idle summers, no carefree days. From early on, responsibility was not a choice—it was a duty.

What began in the fields and on the boats evolved into a life of service. From walking the beat as a young police officer to eventually leading a nation, his path demanded unshakable discipline, relentless tenacity, and a willingness to do. Yet there is no resentment. His wife jokes that he still works too much. But it isn’t compulsion—it’s conviction. As one of twelve siblings, he understood early the necessity of sharing—space, responsibilities, and sacrifice. Those experiences shaped a man who now leads with patience, humility, and resolve.

In the 1980s, while others rehearsed campaign slogans, he worked behind the scenes—organizing communities, managing elections, lifting others into the spotlight. “I ran the PNP (Progressive National Party) campaign in 1980 and 1984,” he says. “Even then, I didn’t see myself as a leader. I saw myself as a facilitator.” But when duty called in 1988, he stepped forward—not for power, but for service.

First Lady Delthia Misick, sharp, composed, and clear-thinking, helps keep Premier Misick grounded and balanced.

His vision for Turks & Caicos is clear and unapologetically bold: a dignified nation, a self-confident people, and institutions that will outlast his lifetime. He doesn’t seek praise or monuments saying, “Write on my tomb: He was an institution builder.” In a political world obsessed with credit, he is chasing impact. 

Washington Misick is a visionary, his gaze fixed firmly on the future. He dreams not only of economic sustainability but of intellectual and spiritual elevation. “A self-confident people. A self-confident country,” he says. There’s an urgency in his voice when he calls on Turks & Caicos Islanders to return home and contribute—to put their hard-earned skills to work in this long, bright race toward a better nation. Whatever path you take—whatever role you play—he urges all Turks & Caicos Islanders to think beyond the moment. To resist the pull of instant gratification and short-term gain, and instead focus on building the country they want to see two decades from now. A country grounded in dignity, self-reliance, and unity. For the Premier, progress isn’t measured by headlines or popularity, but by the legacy we leave behind. He calls to work with purpose—for the Turks & Caicos of tomorrow.

He is leading monumental reforms. Institutional amendments aimed at better equipping both the country and its citizens. At the same time, he remains a lifelong learner. Today, he is completing a dissertation in international commercial law—not for prestige, but because knowledge still excites him.

He sees the cracks, too—overcrowded classrooms, economic disparity, and a growing disconnect between children and tradition. “Too many parents have too many jobs,” he says—not with blame, but with empathy. The economy has changed. The country must evolve with it. The First Lady emphasized that parents are equal partners in this journey—just as vital as teachers—in shaping the minds and values of the next generation. She reminded us that learning doesn’t end at the classroom door; it continues around the dinner table, during bedtime conversations, and in the quiet moments of presence. Family time carries profound, often underestimated value.

When asked about culture, the Premier reflected that it is never static. It’s not just the straw hat or the church pew. It’s alive. Evolving. “Culture,” he says, “is everything around you.” His message is clear: know who you are, and stay rooted even as you grow. 

Today, he straddles many roles—father, scholar, leader. What does he do for joy? He reads. He explores. His idea of rest is rooted in curiosity. For someone who’s always had to climb, the pursuit of knowledge is the purest form of peace.

To understand the Premier is to understand the nation he envisions: self-made, unyielding, thoughtful. A place where tradition meets progress. Where people know where they came from—and aren’t afraid of where they’re going. The past doesn’t weigh him down. It grounds him. It’s ballast, not burden. His eyes are always on the horizon.

From hard-earned experience, he leaves us with a powerful metaphor: learn to distinguish between the compass and the clock. The compass represents our values, our calling, our purpose. The clock, our time. And only when we align the two can we truly move forward.

Faith, too, has always been a guiding force. As a boy, he rose before dawn to pray with his father—a ritual he once resisted but now cherishes. Today, faith is his compass. His brother Ariel remains a trusted confidant. His wife, his unwavering partner.

The Premier of the Turks & Caicos Islands is more than a title. He is a man shaped by grit, prayer, and perseverance. He speaks softly—but builds boldly. He’s not chasing glory. He’s chasing good. And while the world often confuses the two, he never has.

That might be the rarest kind of leadership.