Within less than ten years, the question “Who sold Curaçao, and why?” will be asked as a cry of despair. By then, the bitter reality may have become irreversible.
Curaçaoans who have spent time in the Netherlands, whether for study or work, may return to experience this reality firsthand. During their absence, the country has been sold. European money has been used to buy Curaçao back. This is, in my view, nothing less than recolonization.
With substantial amounts of European capital, Dutch investors are buying houses, land, coastal areas and other property. The result is that native Curaçaoans are increasingly being priced out, with fewer opportunities to acquire a piece of land in their own country.
Remember this: Curaçao is small. It covers only 444 square kilometers. The island may be small geographically, but it possesses an enormous soul.
A people is defined by its connection to territory, language, culture, traditions and history. When those elements disappear, the foundations of a people’s continued existence are weakened.
How Did We Get Here?
Unlike Bonaire, where a referendum helped determine the island’s constitutional future, Curaçao is undergoing a different transformation. In my view, three forces have made this possible.
- Selling in Euros
It began in Bandabou and along the southern and western coasts.
Heirs to plantations and historic estates decided to sell their properties—not necessarily to Curaçao residents, but to Dutch buyers capable of offering three times as much, paid with the purchasing power of the euro.
Why?
Because money became the determining factor. The consequences of those decisions for the next three generations of Curaçaoans were treated as secondary.
The result is that many areas have been transformed into gated communities. European capital flowed into the property market, while local residents increasingly found themselves unable to compete.
- Long-Term Leases and Government
The second factor is even more troubling because it involves our own political leaders.
Through long-term leases of up to 60 years, governments have handed over parts of Curaçao’s land for development. These are areas that may effectively remain beyond the reach of ordinary citizens for generations.
We are repeatedly told: “This is development. This is tourism. This creates employment.”
I reject that argument.
Tourism has become the magic word used to justify decisions that are fundamentally changing ownership and control of our island.
At the same time, a new economic hierarchy is being created—one in which local people may end up working in hotels and resorts built on land that once belonged, or could have belonged, to their own communities.
- A Demographic Shift
For decades, Curaçao has watched its population shrink, age and emigrate.
A lack of opportunities has contributed to young Curaçaoans leaving for the Netherlands, while older generations remain behind and can find themselves increasingly vulnerable.
Meanwhile, land and housing are being sold to people with considerably greater purchasing power from abroad.
In my view, the sale of land has therefore become an instrument of demographic change: young people leave the island and their place is increasingly taken by wealthier newcomers.
I see this as a process of displacement that threatens the long-term survival of Curaçao’s native population.
The mechanisms are no longer weapons of war. They are contracts, property transactions and euros.
What Is Left for Us?
Access to some of our own beaches has become increasingly restricted.
We have created a housing market in which Curaçaoans must compete with euro-based purchasing power simply to buy a home in their own neighborhoods.
At the same time, opportunities for cooperatives and collective ownership have not been sufficiently developed. An organized population with meaningful ownership of its land and economy is much harder to displace.
This article was written on August 8, 2026, with one purpose: to put on record a warning about what is happening to Curaçao.
Our island is being sold, and the consequences will increasingly become visible throughout our society.
The question is no longer simply whether this is happening.
The question is:
Who sold Curaçao, and why?
And, more importantly:
What are we going to do now, before there is nothing left to sell?
Erwin Raphaëla
Seasoned Journalist and Columnist