It is a daily responsibility for every democratic society.
I teach my students about the separation of powers. I explain why a democratic society cannot function properly when too much power is concentrated in the hands of one person, one government or one political majority. The legislative, executive and judicial branches each have their own responsibilities. Parliament oversees the government. The government must account for its actions. The judiciary must be able to operate independently.
But then something interesting happens.
When I explain the separation of powers in Papiamentu, my students begin asking questions that go far beyond the definitions in their history books. And it is precisely those questions that sometimes concern me as a teacher.
“Who controls the minister?”
A student may ask: “Did the minister go to Parliament before making that decision?”
Another might ask: “If Parliament’s job is to oversee the government, who controls the ministers?”
And sometimes comes the most fundamental question of all: “Who has authority over whom?”
These are not theoretical questions. These are questions about power. And that is precisely where democratic citizenship begins.
I am sometimes surprised by how quickly students understand the essence of the issue when they are not simply memorizing a definition in Dutch, but actually understanding a political concept.
Perhaps this is one of the most important reasons why education in one’s own language matters so much. A student can read a text in Dutch and still struggle to grasp the deeper meaning of a political concept. When that same concept is explained in Papiamentu, something can suddenly click. They get it.
And when they get it, students start asking critical questions. That is precisely what education should encourage.
Parliament Is Not a Rubber Stamp
This is where an important responsibility of our Parliament comes into play.
Parliament is not intended simply to approve government policy because a political majority belongs to the same coalition. Parliament must scrutinize, question and evaluate government policy and, where necessary, provide a counterweight.
The Advisory Council has also emphasized this principle: parliamentarians must exercise oversight of the government in the general interest, even when the government is led by their own political party.
When this independent scrutiny does not take place sufficiently, Parliament risks becoming what we could call a “rubber stamp.”
That is a fundamental problem.
A Member of Parliament is not, first and foremost, the representative of a minister. A Member of Parliament is elected to represent the people.
That is why there must be moments when a parliamentarian can say to his or her own party: “On this issue, I disagree.”
Not because of personal hostility. Not to create political problems. But because democracy itself requires independent scrutiny of power.
Coalition Does Not Mean Unconditional Obedience
One of the greatest dangers to a parliamentary democracy emerges when political loyalty becomes more important than constitutional responsibility.
A coalition may be necessary to form a government. But being part of a coalition does not mean parliamentarians should abandon their responsibility to scrutinize that government.
On the contrary.
Precisely when a minister belongs to the same political party, a Member of Parliament must have the freedom to be critical. Because if loyalty to the party always outweighs Parliament’s responsibility to exercise oversight, a fundamental question arises:
Who, then, is controlling those in power?
Democracy does not demand blind loyalty. Democracy demands accountability.
And What About the Fourth Estate?
Then we come to the media.
Formally, journalism is not one of the three branches of government. But in a modern democracy, an independent press has an important role as a watchdog over those who exercise power.
A minister can issue a press release. But then a journalist must be able to ask: Why? Where is the evidence? Who made this decision? What alternatives were considered? How much does it cost? Who benefits? Who pays? Was Parliament informed? Was legal advice sought? What could the consequences be? And, most importantly, what does this mean for the citizen?
A press release is not journalism.
An interview in which a minister’s message is simply repeated is not critical scrutiny.
Journalism begins where the questions begin.
That is precisely why we should be concerned when the space for independent journalism becomes limited. In a small society such as Curaçao, this is especially important.
Politics, the private sector, government and social organizations are often closely interconnected. People know each other. Personal and professional relationships extend across different sectors of society.
That does not make independent journalism less important. It makes it more important.
This does not mean that journalism in Curaçao is not critical. On the contrary, there are excellent journalists and media organizations that ask questions and investigate those in power.
But a democracy cannot depend solely on a handful of individuals who are willing to ask difficult questions. Independent journalism must be a structural part of our democratic culture.
And Then There Is the Judge
The judiciary also has an essential place in this system.
When citizens or institutions believe the government has exceeded its legal authority, there must be an independent mechanism through which those actions can be tested against the law.
The rule of law does not mean that only citizens must obey the law. The government is also bound by the law.
Perhaps this is one of the most important lessons we can teach our young people.
Having power does not mean being above the rules.
A minister is not above the law. A Member of Parliament is not above the law. A political party is not above the law. And having a political majority does not automatically place anyone above the rule of law.
The rule of law places limits on power.
What Are We Teaching Our Children?
For me, this is where we encounter a paradox — a situation, idea or statement that may appear contradictory but can contain a deeper truth or logic.
I stand in front of a classroom and tell my students: “This is the separation of powers. The government has power. Parliament oversees the government. The judiciary must remain independent.”
Then those same students look at society.
They see political decisions. They hear political discussions. They watch ministers and Members of Parliament. They read and watch the news.
And then they ask: “But sir, why did that situation happen that way?”
What should a teacher say?
Should I tell them: “That’s politics. Don’t ask too many questions about it”?
Should I tell them: “That’s just how Curaçao works”?
No way.
That would be precisely the opposite of what democratic education is supposed to accomplish.
We should tell them: “Keep asking questions.”
Because a society in which young people stop questioning power is a society that becomes vulnerable.
The Real Test of Our Democracy
Perhaps we should stop treating the separation of powers solely as a concept of constitutional law.
We should treat it as a democratic culture.
The question is not simply: Do we have a Parliament on paper?
The question is: Does Parliament actually scrutinize the government?
The question is not simply: Do we have a judiciary?
The question is: Can it perform its work independently?
The question is not simply: Do we have media organizations?
The question is: Can journalists critically investigate those in power without political or economic pressure?
And the question is not simply: Do we have elections?
The question is: Are citizens sufficiently informed and empowered to hold those in power accountable?
Ultimately, these are much more important questions.
Because democracy does not consist solely of institutions. Democracy also consists of behavior, accountability, courage and culture.
What Kind of Curaçao Are We Leaving Behind?
Ultimately, my concern is not only about the current government. Nor is it about one minister. It is not about one political party. And it is not even solely about the current Parliament.
It is about something much bigger:
What kind of democratic culture do we want to leave to our children?
Do we want a Curaçao where young people are taught that power must be checked, only for them to grow up seeing that political loyalty carries more weight than independent oversight?
Or do we want a Curaçao where our children actually use their understanding of the separation of powers to look critically at the society around them?
As a teacher, I know what I want.
I want students who have the courage to question.
Students who are not automatically impressed by a title, a position or political power.
Students who understand that a minister is not a king. That a Member of Parliament should not automatically be a follower. That a journalist should not become a government spokesperson. And that the citizen, ultimately, is not subordinate to the government, but one of the foundations upon which the democratic rule of law rests.
Perhaps, therefore, we should not only ask our students: “What is the separation of powers?”
We should also ask them: “Do you actually see the separation of powers functioning in the society in which you live?”
Because the answer to that question may tell us more about the state of our democracy than any history book ever could.
And perhaps we, as adults, should do something before anything else: listen to their answer.
Because a democracy that teaches its young people to ask questions must also be willing to listen when they do.
Eugène Maduro
Teacher & Entrepreneur