While the Netherlands enters its election recess, other parts of the Kingdom — Aruba, Curaçao, and Sint Maarten — find themselves navigating new political realities. Aruba once again has an Eman government since March, and in Sint Maarten, Prime Minister Mercelina’s administration appears to have finally stabilized after a shaky start in late 2024.
On Curaçao, however, political stability has taken a dramatic turn. In March, the MFK party secured an absolute majority — a remarkable result that came with immense responsibility. The election also elevated Finance Minister Javier Silvania, who received significantly more votes than his own party leader, Prime Minister Gilmar Pisas.
During a working lunch earlier this year, I pointed out to Silvania the crucial position he held within the government and cautioned him against allowing internal power struggles to consume the party. He assured me his loyalty to the Prime Minister was unwavering, insisting that political infighting would only weaken the government’s ability to deliver. The MFK’s absolute majority, he argued, should serve as a source of unity and strength, not division.
Silvania also spoke candidly about his deep frustration with the Tax Department, particularly its inefficiency and chronic underperformance. He expressed grave concern that despite nearly weekly interventions, little progress had been made. Tax revenues, he noted, are essential to Curaçao’s prosperity, and every guilder left uncollected is a blow to the island’s future.
That it was precisely internal power struggles that led to Silvania’s resignation is both ironic and alarming. The island’s most popular politician has fallen — not because of public failure, but seemingly as the victim of political intrigue. Meanwhile, Landsontvanger Alfonso Trona — the tax receiver repeatedly accused by Silvania of corruption — remains firmly in place.
This raises uncomfortable but necessary questions:
How does Trona maintain such power despite serious allegations? Where does his apparent untouchable influence come from — is it from within the government itself, or does it extend deeper into the island’s political and financial networks?
Even more troubling are the viral audio recordings of the dispute between Silvania and Trona that circulated shortly before the minister’s departure. Who leaked them — and who stands to gain, financially or politically, from Trona’s continued presence?
Curaçao now stands at a critical crossroads. The resignation of Javier Silvania exposes cracks in the foundation of governance and accountability. If corruption and internal sabotage are allowed to dictate the direction of public policy, no amount of reform — not even the ambitious National Ordinance on Games of Chance (LOK) — can succeed.
The people of Curaçao deserve transparency, competence, and leadership that prioritizes the island’s progress over political games. The government must now show whether it has the courage to confront what lies beneath — or whether it will allow the same forces that drove out its strongest reformer to continue operating in the shadows.
Only through honesty, accountability, and political integrity can Curaçao restore trust and move forward.
