Curaçao is not a poor island. What it faces instead is a structural problem: an economic system that generates wealth, but does not distribute it widely across society.
The fact that Adam Smith referenced Curaçao in The Wealth of Nations is not a historical footnote—it is an early diagnosis. Smith described the island as a free port operating within a system of monopolies, smuggling, and transit trade. A place where money flows through, but does not necessarily stay. More than two centuries later, that mechanism appears largely unchanged.
Curaçao is small—just 444 square kilometers with a population of around 156,000. Yet it receives more than 1.5 million visitors annually. Its economy is growing. Tourism is booming. Real estate is expanding rapidly. Online gaming and offshore activities generate significant financial flows. On paper, the island behaves like a small global hub.
And still, a large share of the population lives in or near poverty.
That is not a flaw in the system. It is the system.
Historically, Curaçao was never designed as a closed, self-sufficient economy. It functioned as a hub—first for colonial trade, then for oil refining, and later for offshore finance and services. Time and again, the island has been structured as a gateway for external value creation. This model is efficient for generating growth, but weak when it comes to distributing that growth. Money enters, but has little reason to remain.
The closure of the refinery made this painfully clear. A central economic pillar disappeared, taking jobs and stability with it. Tourism then emerged as the new engine, accelerated during the pandemic when travel patterns shifted and Caribbean destinations within the Kingdom remained relatively accessible. Hotels filled, investments increased, and Curaçao recovered faster than expected.
But growth is not the same as development.
What is missing is anchoring. The economy moves, but the benefits are concentrated. Concessions are granted for long periods. Strategic positions remain within limited networks. Government policy often balances between facilitating and depending on external actors. Political financing and economic interests become intertwined—not as isolated incidents, but as part of the structure.
There are clear signals of this imbalance. Debates about writing off billions in tax debts. Ongoing criticism of the effectiveness of social policies. A minimum wage that, in practice, is not enough to live on. These are not separate issues—they are symptoms of a model in which economic growth and broad prosperity do not automatically go hand in hand.
In many ways, the island functions like a well-run office building. Capital flows in and out across different levels. Most actors sustain each other. New entrants either adapt to the system or leave. The government plays a role, but not always a decisive one.
This leads to an uncomfortable but necessary question. Not: how do we attract more tourists, investments, or projects? But: how do we ensure that value actually reaches society?
That requires different choices. Shorter concessions with clear performance requirements. Greater transparency in fiscal agreements. Active development of local value chains linked to tourism and industry. And above all, a government willing not only to facilitate, but to guide outcomes toward long-term, inclusive benefits.
Curaçao has all the ingredients for economic success—and in many ways, it is already successful. But success without broad distribution is fragile.
That, too, was visible in Smith’s early observations.
The real challenge for Curaçao is not growth. The real challenge is ownership of that growth.
Orlando Meulens