Dear Editor,

Since St. Maarten became a country within the Kingdom of the Netherlands in 2010, there has arguably never been a moment more critical for decisive, strategic governance than the one facing the island today.

The world is entering a period of growing geopolitical instability, economic uncertainty and energy vulnerability. For small island economies like St. Maarten – almost entirely dependent on imports, tourism and external supply chains – the risks are especially acute.

Yet while global tensions rise and warning signs become increasingly difficult to ignore, local politics continues to revolve around infighting, coalition disputes, political survival and requests for additional financial support from the Netherlands and international institutions.

Meanwhile, the country remains dangerously exposed.

St. Maarten depends almost entirely on imported fossil fuels to keep the country functioning. Electricity generation relies heavily on fuel imports. Water production depends on energy-intensive desalination plants powered by those same fuels. Transportation, food distribution and nearly every aspect of daily life remain tied to imported oil and global shipping routes.

The island also imports the overwhelming majority of its food and household goods. Merchandise imports into St. Maarten exceeded approximately US $1.27 billion in 2024, according to international trade data, with food products, petroleum and household consumer goods forming a major part of those imports.

That means St. Maarten’s economic survival depends almost entirely on uninterrupted international trade and stable global energy markets.

But global stability can no longer be taken for granted.

The growing tensions surrounding Venezuela, the Caribbean and the wider geopolitical struggle involving the United States, China, Russia and energy security are no longer distant issues occurring somewhere far away. The Caribbean sits directly inside the sphere of these developments.

For years, Venezuela has accused the United States of using so-called Cooperative Security Locations (formerly Forward Operating Locations, FOLs) on Aruba and Curaçao for intelligence gathering, surveillance and broader strategic operations. Officially, the facilities are used for anti-drug operations and regional security cooperation. The Netherlands has consistently rejected suggestions that the islands would serve as launchpads for military action against Venezuela.

Yet military analysts have long pointed out that strategically, the islands are highly important because of their location.

If the United States were ever to conduct a major military operation against Venezuela using facilities on Aruba or Curaçao with Dutch approval, or without approval, the consequences could be severe.

Such a scenario could trigger a constitutional crisis within the Kingdom of the Netherlands, create diplomatic fallout across Latin America and Europe, raise questions under international law, and potentially expose the islands themselves to security risks because of their close geographic proximity to Venezuela.

And while such a scenario remains hypothetical, recent years have shown how quickly geopolitical crises can escalate into economic emergencies. Wars, sanctions, disruptions in shipping routes and instability in oil-producing regions have already driven spikes in global fuel and food prices.

For St. Maarten, even temporary disruptions can have devastating consequences.

A sharp rise in oil prices immediately affects electricity costs, water production costs, transportation and food prices. The island has virtually no agricultural self-sufficiency capable of cushioning external shocks. Supermarket shelves, fuel stations and essential services depend on continuous imports.

Yet despite these realities, the country still lacks a long-term national strategy for energy independence, food security and economic resilience.

Instead, political energy continues to be consumed by disputes, public feuds and coalition manoeuvring.

Parliament debates are increasingly dominated by accusations, political blame games and short-term controversies, while structural national vulnerabilities remain largely unresolved. Governments come and go, coalitions collapse and reform agendas repeatedly stall. At the same time, the country continues asking the Netherlands, the World Bank and international partners for additional financial support, grants, loans and recovery funding.

External assistance is important and often necessary for small island states recovering from disasters and economic shocks. But no amount of external funding can permanently compensate for the absence of strategic national planning.

The uncomfortable reality is that St. Maarten cannot continue functioning as a country that reacts only when crises arrive.

The island should already be aggressively investing in renewable energy expansion, solar infrastructure, energy diversification, food production incentives, water security and strategic reserves for emergencies. It should be strengthening local agriculture wherever possible, modernising infrastructure and reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels.

Instead, major infrastructure projects continue facing delays, government services struggle with inefficiency and public frustration over garbage collection, roads and utilities continues growing.

There is also a deeper issue emerging beneath the political noise: a growing public perception that governance itself has become reactive rather than visionary.

Countries do not become resilient during crises. They become resilient before crises happen.

St. Maarten’s vulnerability is not merely economic. It is structural.

The island sits in one of the most strategically sensitive regions in the Western Hemisphere while simultaneously being one of the most import-dependent economies in the Caribbean. That combination should alarm policymakers far more than it currently appears to.

The world is changing rapidly. Energy markets are becoming more volatile. Global supply chains are increasingly fragile. Geopolitical tensions are intensifying. Climate risks continue growing. This is precisely the moment when leadership matters most.

Not leadership focused on political survival. Not leadership focused on coalition arithmetic. Not leadership focused solely on obtaining additional foreign funding.

But leadership focused on national resilience, long-term planning and protecting the country from vulnerabilities that could one day spiral into a full-scale economic and social crisis.

Because if St. Maarten waits until a major geopolitical shock disrupts oil supplies, trade routes or regional stability, it may discover too late that no emergency loan, no grant and no foreign intervention can quickly solve vulnerabilities that should have been addressed years earlier.

A concerned citizen

Dear Editor,

The people of St. Maarten are once again being forced to carry the burden of government failure. As electricity bills are set to increase this May, families and businesses across the country are asking the same question: How much longer must we suffer while this government does absolutely nothing?

Over a year ago, and throughout his election campaign, the Prime Minister promised relief for GEBE customers. This was a promise made publicly and repeatedly. Yet today, as the cost of living continues to soar and global geopolitical conflicts drive up energy prices, the people of St. Maarten have received no real protection, no serious intervention, and no meaningful relief. Instead, we are met with more speeches, more hollow announcements, and more excuses.

The reality facing the average citizen is harsh. Groceries are more expensive, rent continues to rise, and small businesses are struggling to stay afloat. Working-class families are being squeezed from every direction. Now, on top of these mounting pressures, electricity bills are increasing yet again. How is this acceptable after more than a year of promises?

Governments across the Caribbean have recognised the economic strain on their citizens and implemented temporary relief measures – ranging from fuel support programmes to utility subsidies and emergency interventions. In contrast, St. Maarten’s government continues to operate without urgency, leaving citizens to fend for themselves.

The Prime Minister and his coalition government have fundamentally failed to deliver the relief they promised.

This administration cannot continue to ignore the growing public frustration. The people are tired of hearing promises that lack action. Our country deserves leadership that responds to crises with urgency, compassion, and concrete solutions – not endless public relations exercises while households continue to suffer.

Gromyko Wilson

Concerned Citizen

Dear Editor,

There are two chairs. One plastic. One wooden. Beneath a sign that simply reads: Bus Stop. No roof. No shade. No protection. This is not theory, not a policy paper, not a statistic.

This is daily reality in Mahaai, near medical facilities where people do not go by choice, but by necessity. Here, patients wait. In the full sun. In silence. In a dignity that is slowly stripped away.

Curaçao’s climate is unforgiving. The sun burns, the humidity presses, temperatures rise to levels that challenge even a healthy body – let alone someone who is ill, weakened, or elderly.

Imagine you have just left a doctor’s appointment. Or you are on your way to one. You don’t feel well. Perhaps you are in pain. Perhaps you are dizzy. Perhaps you have just had blood drawn.

And then you must sit. Outside. Without shade. Without protection. Sometimes for twenty minutes. Sometimes forty. Sometimes longer. Because the bus comes when it comes. Because schedules are not always reliable. Because there is no alternative. Yes, Curaçao has a public transport system. Yes, it is affordable. But affordability without humanity is not accessibility.

What is missing here is not luxury – it is basic respect. This bus stop once had a shelter. It broke. And for nearly two years, nothing has been done. No repairs. No temporary solution. No visible urgency.

This is not a technical failure. It is a moral one. What message does this send to those who sit there? That their time does not matter. That their health does not matter. That their comfort does not matter. That they must simply endure.

But healthcare does not begin at the clinic door. It begins with access. A system that forces people to suffer physically just to get medical care is not functioning. It is failing.

The people sitting there are not policymakers. They are not advisors. They are not people with influence. They are elderly citizens. Workers without cars. People with chronic conditions. Mothers with children. Individuals who depend on a system that should protect them. They do not protest loudly. They do not disrupt. They wait. And because they wait, they are forgotten.

This is not about large investments. Not about complex planning. This is about a simple roof. A proper bench. Basic protection from sun and rain. This is not development. This is civilisation.

The question is not whether it can be done. The question is: why has it not been done? Who is responsible? The transport authorities? The government? Public works?

Everyone knows this location exists. Everyone passes by. Everyone sees it. And yet, nothing moves. So let us ask it differently. Would this be acceptable in front of a government building? Would this be acceptable in a tourist area? Would this be acceptable if decision-makers themselves had to sit there?

Curaçao invests in image. In tourism. In growth. But the true measure of a society is not found in its brochures. It is found in its reality. In its small places. In its bus stops. In how it treats its most vulnerable.

Two chairs in the sun are telling a story. A story of neglect. A story of silence. A story that should unsettle us. Because dignity should not depend on owning a car. Dignity is a right. Fix the bus stop. Not tomorrow. Not next year. Now. Because every day, someone sits there. Waiting. In pain. In silence. And that silence says everything.

Tico Vos

Columnist/Activist

Dear Editor,

People talk about fixing St. Maarten as if the problems started yesterday, but the reality is much deeper than that.

You have roughly 15,000–20,000 legal voters carrying the financial burden of a population estimated between 60,000–70,000 people. That imbalance alone creates enormous pressure on public services, healthcare, infrastructure, education, and the tax base. Any country facing those numbers would struggle to remain financially stable.

Since 2010, St. Maarten has gone through approximately 10–12 different governments. No country can build long-term policy, economic stability, or institutional trust with constant political turnover. Every new coalition changes direction, appointments, priorities, and policies before previous plans can even take effect.

This is not about race or discrimination. It is about governance, accountability, and structural instability.

Corruption, political favouritism, and family-based interests have become so normalised in policymaking that public trust continues to erode. The hole has become so deep over the past 16 years that no single government can realistically fix it overnight, whether they are genuinely trying or not.

What is even more frustrating is that many members of the current opposition – now loudly criticising failure – were themselves part of previous governments and coalitions that helped create the very conditions they now condemn. Accountability cannot only apply to the government of today while ignoring those who held power throughout the years these problems were building.

Real change requires long-term stability, institutional reform, consistent policy, and leaders willing to put the country above personal or political interests. Without that, the cycle simply repeats itself.

But on another note, the people of St. Maarten also have a responsibility in this.

I saw the recent article discussing the garbage problem at the landfill, but more importantly, look at the garbage covering our streets. We constantly promote ourselves as a “top destination,” yet tourists walk through Front Street, Simpson Bay, and other major areas surrounded by plastic waste, overflowing bins, and litter scattered along sidewalks and roads.

Many businesses and patrons simply sweep garbage into the street as if it disappears once it leaves their doorstep. It does not. It becomes everybody’s problem and becomes part of the image visitors take home with them.

At some point, we need to stop bragging about how great we are while ignoring the basics. Keeping the island clean should not even be a debate. Pride in a country is not just slogans, flags, or social media posts – it is maintaining the environment we expect tourists and residents to enjoy every day.

Maybe if we started with basic responsibility and cleanliness, visitors might at least forget about the traffic.

Garth Steyn