How the Spirit of May 30, 1969 Was Betrayed by 2025’s Structural Decay 

By Tico Vos – Nos Ke Sa 

It began with fire.  

On May 30, 1969, brave workers and Afro-Curaçaoan laborers rose up to demand what the colonial economy had long denied them: dignity, fair wages, and political voice. The spark was lit by exploited workers from PWFC, but the flame that spread through Punda and Otrobanda was fueled by centuries of racial exclusion and social silence.  

Trinta di Mei was no riot. It was a reckoning.  

But more than 50 years later, what has become of that flame?  

Today, May 30 risks becoming a museum piece, sanitized and reduced to symbolic speeches by officials who have done little to address the underlying injustices that sparked the uprising. The people who set fire to buildings in 1969 were not looters—they were burning down the structures that burned their futures. Yet in 2025, our structures are burning again, not by fire, but by decay.  

We Have Not Moved Forward. We Have Been Pushed Back.  

1. Poverty Has Returned, Not Receded  

In 1969, workers protested starvation wages. In 2025, the minimum wage cannot buy survival. Over 30% of Curaçaoans live below the poverty line. Rent, groceries, and electricity are out of reach for those who work full-time. What has changed?  

Only the pretense that we are a developed society.  

We are not.  

2. We Import Workers While Our Own Remain Idle  

Where once the complaint was joblessness, now it is job theft—legalized through work permits. Curaçaoan youth are bypassed by employers who prefer imported labor that’s easier to exploit and silence. Construction sites are filled with voices from Colombia, the DR, and Suriname—not because locals won’t work, but because a corrupt system ensures they can’t.  

Work permits are sold like lottery tickets. Meanwhile, our youth are told to “get educated”—only to find no place to return to.  

3. Healthcare: From Neglect to Betrayal  

The SVB system, once a proud symbol of solidarity, has collapsed. Doctors are overruled by administrators. Life-saving medication is delayed. Patients are ignored. People die waiting for approvals while being told they are “covered.”  

This is not universal healthcare. It is bureaucratic euthanasia.  

4. Brain Drain Has Become Brain Flight  

Each year, hundreds of Curaçaoan students leave for the Netherlands to study. Most never come back. And why would they? They see corruption, nepotism, cronyism, and systemic poverty awaiting them at home.  

The Kingdom encourages this flow—not to empower us, but to drain us dry and keep our best minds away from building a self-sufficient Curaçao.  

5. The Netherlands Still Feeds on Our Misery  

Many of our own flee to the Netherlands seeking care, safety, and dignity. What do they find? 

• Racist suspicion 

• Ethnic profiling by the Belastingdienst 

• Children taken by jeugdzorg 

• Families destroyed by the toeslagenaffaire  

This is not refuge. This is colonial punishment exported to the metropole.  

The Revolution Was Hijacked. Again.  

In 1969, the fires of rebellion were hijacked by looters and opportunists. The political elite used the destruction to shift the narrative from justice to chaos. Today, that hijacking continues—but in neckties, boardrooms, and policy memos.  

They call it reform. We call it betrayal.  

Trinta di Mei in 2025: A Mirror We Refuse to Look Into  

Let us be clear: 

• We cannot honor Trinta di Mei while ignoring child poverty. 

• We cannot wave flags while importing cheap labor and exporting our youth. 

• We cannot praise Papiamentu while allowing healthcare to collapse. 

• We cannot speak of justice while ignoring the structural racism embedded in the Dutch state.  

Every May 30, the ruling class lays wreaths. But the people still bury dreams.  

What Must Be Done? 

• Raise the minimum wage to a survival standard tied to real living costs. 

• Ban corrupt labor permit practices and invest in local retraining. 

• Audit and reform SVB, with patient dignity at its core. 

• Fund return programs for our students, with incentives for Curaçaoan brainpower to rebuild this land. 

• Demand justice for the toeslagenaffaire victims and constitutional use of Article 27 to reject Dutch state abuses.  

We are not celebrating May 30. We are mourning what it could have become.  

But mourning must become movement. 

And remembrance must become reckoning.  

Trinta di Mei is not just a date. 

It is a debt unpaid. 

And time is running out.