Lately I have been reading a great deal, researching extensively, and comparing many different reports, statistics, and developments. Economic reports, political developments, election results, analyses about governance, poverty, tourism, education, healthcare, and Curaçao’s position within the Kingdom.
Not because I believe a single report contains the full truth. But by following these processes consistently over a long period of time, I have started to recognize certain recurring patterns about our country.
Today, I can do this partly because of the stage of life I am currently in. I am retired. But retirement has not stopped me from thinking or contributing. On the contrary, it has given me more freedom from daily pressure and more time to study documents calmly and critically, to follow developments closely, and to identify connections that are often overlooked in the rush of everyday life.
And because of that, several things have become increasingly clear to me.
Curaçao is not stuck because there is a lack of love for the island. Quite the opposite. There is an abundance of love, pride, and passionate discussion. But when one carefully follows the developments of the past decades, an uncomfortable pattern keeps returning: every time Curaçao receives a new opportunity, the island often responds with old methods.
Since 1954, Curaçao has gradually gained more room to govern its own affairs — first within the Netherlands Antilles, and later as an autonomous country within the Kingdom. In 2010, Curaçao officially became a country. It was a historic moment. There was debt relief, financial supervision, and a unique opportunity to build stronger institutions and a better functioning government structure.
But if we are honest with ourselves, we must also acknowledge that we never fully transformed that opportunity into stronger institutions, better execution, and broader prosperity.
That is where the process became stuck.
Not on the question of whether we have enough autonomy. Not on the question of whether we deserve dignity as a people. Of course we do. No one needs to grant us permission for that. The real issue is whether we are capable of organizing our autonomy effectively — not merely celebrating it, singing about it, or using it as a political slogan, but actually governing it responsibly.
That is something entirely different.
One clear example is politics itself. Curaçao currently has a government with a strong parliamentary majority. That is relatively rare. In theory, such a majority should provide stability, decisiveness, and less dependence on small coalition partners. But that is precisely where the real test begins.
Because if a majority is once again used mainly for political rewards, appointments based on loyalty, and maintaining old patronage networks, then fundamentally nothing changes. We may see stability on the surface, but underneath there is stagnation.
A majority only has value if it produces better governance and better execution.
Tourism is another example. The numbers appear positive. More visitors, more airport traffic, more activity in hotels and restaurants. That creates energy and optimism. But if we focus only on movement, we lose sight of the foundation beneath it all.
Has this growth resulted in better salaries? More stable employment? More local entrepreneurs participating in the tourism chain? More opportunities for young people? More affordable living conditions in neighborhoods across the island?
If the answers remain insufficient, then Curaçao may indeed be growing — but the people are not necessarily growing along with it.
And that is where the danger lies.
Tourism can be a blessing, but it can also become a form of anesthesia. One sees full terraces, new construction projects, busy roads, and assumes everything is going well. Meanwhile, many households remain financially vulnerable, pressure on public space continues increasing, beaches and nature become more burdened, and a large portion of employment remains low-paid or insecure.
At that point, economic growth becomes little more than attractive wrapping paper covering structural problems.
The solution is not less tourism. That would be absurd. The solution is better tourism — more local purchasing, more Curaçaoan businesses in the economic chain, more culture as an economic force rather than decoration for visitors, stronger craftsmanship, better labor conditions, and clearer limits on growth that generates revenue while slowly exhausting the island itself.
Education may be the area where Curaçao has become stuck most painfully.
Everyone says education is important. It is a phrase nobody disagrees with. Yet the connection between education and the labor market remains far too weak. Young people are still being prepared for an economy that itself often does not know clearly which skills it will require tomorrow. Businesses complain they cannot find qualified workers, while young people complain they cannot find opportunities. And many talented individuals continue leaving the island.
We call this “brain drain.” But that term is often used too easily.
Talent does not simply flee. Sometimes talent is never properly welcomed or utilized.
If Curaçao educates young people but fails to create serious opportunities for them to grow professionally at home, then the island is effectively financing its own brain drain.
The solution lies in stronger vocational education, better internships, deeper cooperation between schools and businesses, digital skills, technology, healthcare, logistics, maritime services, and entrepreneurship — not as temporary subsidized projects, but as part of a long-term national strategy.
Healthcare is another major challenge. Curaçao’s population is aging rapidly. Everyone knows this. Yet the healthcare system remains too focused on treatment after people become ill, instead of prevention. Eventually, that approach becomes financially unsustainable.
An aging island cannot continue treating prevention as a luxury. Prevention is not a soft political topic. It is a financial necessity. Strong primary care, mental healthcare, elderly care, healthy lifestyles, affordable medication, and proper digital medical records are not modern accessories for the healthcare system. They determine whether the system itself will remain sustainable.
The warning signs are already visible. If nothing changes, Curaçao risks becoming an island with more elderly residents, fewer young workers, higher healthcare costs, and an economic base that is simply too small to carry the burden.
Governance and integrity may be the most sensitive topic of all — but also the most decisive.
In a small community, everyone knows each other. That has beautiful aspects: warmth, closeness, and strong social connections. But in government, those same dynamics can become dangerous. When personal relationships outweigh merit, governance becomes vulnerable. When party financing remains unclear, citizens naturally ask: who is buying influence? When appointments lack transparency, public trust erodes. When oversight institutions are weak, power becomes too easy.
And power without checks and balances is never something that should be trusted blindly.
The solutions are not necessarily complicated. Make party financing fully public. Make high-level appointments transparent. Digitize public tenders. Strengthen the Audit Chamber, Ombudsman, and integrity institutions. Base public appointments on qualifications rather than personal connections or campaign loyalty.
That is not a luxury. That is the foundation of mature governance.
What strikes me most while following all these developments is how often Curaçao falls back into the same reflexes. Whenever things become difficult, we return to identity, emotion, or blame. Sometimes with valid reasons, because our history has left deep scars. Colonial relations, inequality, and distrust are real parts of our historical development.
But if every modern problem continues to be projected outward, we are ultimately refusing to take ourselves seriously as an adult country.
Not everything is The Hague. Not everything is the past. Not everything is somebody else’s fault.
Sometimes, it is our turn to take responsibility.
And precisely there lies the opportunity.
Curaçao today has political space. It has a stable majority government. It has economic movement. It has international interest. It has sectors capable of growth. It has talent both on the island and within the diaspora.
But if we continue repeating the same old patterns, we will continue producing the same old outcomes. Majorities will become machines for distributing favors. Tourism will become dependency. Education will become a waiting room for departure. Healthcare will become a permanent budget crisis. Autonomy will become an empty word.
That is why a different approach is necessary.
Not because outsiders know better. Not because reports are sacred. Not because governments do nothing. But because the process itself clearly shows where Curaçao keeps getting stuck. And anyone who follows that process long enough will eventually understand that good intentions alone are not enough.
Curaçao does not suffer from a shortage of plans. It suffers from a shortage of consistent execution.
It does not lack pride. It lacks institutional discipline.
It does not lack people who want progress. It lacks systems that reward the right behavior.
The new direction must therefore be practical.
Governance must become cleaner and more professional. Politics must become more transparent. Tourism must generate more local value. Education must connect directly to the economy of tomorrow. Healthcare must shift toward prevention. Employment must become more formal and secure. The economy must become broader than tourism alone. And autonomy must become visible in the daily lives of ordinary people.
Not in speeches.
But in better schools.
Better jobs.
Affordable healthcare.
Fair appointments.
Neighborhoods where people can truly move forward.
Young people who stay because they see a future on Curaçao.
That is the real measurement.
The world around us is becoming increasingly complex. Venezuela remains nearby. The Caribbean is becoming more strategically important. Climate, energy, migration, security, and trade are becoming more interconnected every year. A small island with disorganized governance does not become an influential player in such a world — it becomes a pawn for others.
But a small island with strong institutions, capable people, and reliable execution can become far greater than its size suggests.
That is why this moment matters so much.
Curaçao should never think less of itself. But it must begin looking at itself with greater honesty.
Love for the island is beautiful, but love without discipline remains sentiment.
Pride is necessary, but pride without execution becomes noise.
Power can help, but power without counterbalance becomes dangerous.
Growth is welcome, but growth without broad prosperity eventually creates instability.
The question is no longer whether Curaçao has potential.
We already know it does.
The real question is whether we are finally willing to let go of the old patterns that keep shrinking our own potential.
That is where the new direction begins.
Not with another grand slogan, but with a different way of doing things.
Less promising.
Better execution.
Less dividing.
More building.
Less blaming.
More responsibility.
Because in the end, Curaçao will not be judged by how many visitors arrived, how many speeches were delivered, or how many parliamentary seats a party won.
Curaçao will ultimately be judged by something much simpler:
Can ordinary people live with dignity, work, learn, grow old, and feel confident that their children still have a future on this island?
If the answer becomes yes, then Curaçao will truly grow.
If the answer remains no, then until now we have merely organized movement — not progress.
Orlando Meulens
Columnist