by Jeroen Bouterse
In 2023, I wrote what I reckon was a calm, analytical column for this website, about how my country had talked itself into giving the xenophobic, far-right ‘Freedom Party’ a strong plurality of seats in Parliament. An equally level-headed update seems warranted, as its leader Geert Wilders has since maneuvered his party into leading the Netherlands’ coalition government, which we have now been able to observe in action for six months.
I spent a healthy share of that time, possibly even more than that, yelling at the daily news. Here we see the beauty of the written word, however: the process of creating a text provides an excellent opportunity to take a step back and find a broader, more generous perspective on things. Thanks to the alchemy of prose composition, my temperament and my primary emotional responses do not need to prevent me from giving you, the deserving reader, a balanced and distilled account of the state of politics in the Netherlands, and of the nihilistic bastards that currently dominate it. Indeed, I would hate for this to be just a longer version of the rants I post on unfashionable social media platforms, for the benefit of fewer and fewer friends. Be assured, then, that sublimated ideas and broadly applicable wisdom lie ahead, and not just expressions of rage and frustration. I am almost certain of it.
The phenomenon this essay will examine is that of the reluctant enabler. Like a group of youthful arsonists, the political burn-it-all-down faction tends to consist not only of Steve Bannon-level pyromaniacs, but also of impressionable, frightened, or calculating joiners. Usually, they at least pretend to be on board with the whole ‘setting fire to democratic institutions’ project. Rare is the teenager-slash-politician that actively carries kindling and matches to the target structure, all the while professing loudly that open fires are very dangerous and should be avoided at all times; adding, moreover, that they have never liked their friends, and cannot wait for the fire department to put a stop to this ill-fated enterprise. But that’s coalition government for you.
Mayors in wartime
Our new cabinet is supported by four parties: apart from the Freedom Party, one mainstream conservative party scooching ever further to the right, and two newer parties. Of these two, one focuses on agrarian interests; the other, ‘New Social Contract’ (NSC), embodies an endearing mix of populism, technocracy, and conservatism, combined with heartfelt respect for proper democratic procedure and the rule of law. This manifests in endless hand-wringing about their own cooperation with the far right.
When it dawned on them that they are part of this now, they settled on telling themselves and the country that they are there to hold the line. Here’s where we can learn one of the lessons the Dutch example is there to teach: don’t do that.
There is a certain heroic appeal to being the adult in the room, keeping an eye on the fire hose. Famously, one American official (who later identified himself) wrote in an anonymous New York Times Op-Ed that he and other government officials worked around the clock to keep the toddler-in-chief from causing more than the inevitable amount of damage. We all slept better knowing that.
In Dutch, we call this acting as ‘mayor in wartime’. The term, which has risen in popularity recently, refers to the dilemmas local leaders and officials faced during the occupation by Nazi Germany. Stepping down and keeping their own hands clean might lead things to unravel faster, but staying came with the obvious risk of crossing your own ethical red lines, and being used for evil.
I respect those dilemmas, in the minds of people who have no choice but to face them – the director of a government agency working to provide shelter to refugees, for instance. It is hard to muster the same respect for those who brought themselves and their country into the very predicament they are now trying to mitigate. Coalition governments don’t happen by accident or by default; they involve lengthy negotiations and the signing of extensive agreements. Patting yourself on the back for restraining a government you put in charge is like congratulating yourself for containing a forest fire you started.
Emergency measures
What did our four parties agree to, and how and when did NSC decide to hold the line? Once again, you are lucky this is not a rant, but a structured argument from a self-disciplined author. I will refrain from mentioning all the petty, shameful, sado–populist, fact-free, pathetic non-policies we are being treated to. Instead, I will just pick one telling storyline.
Geert Wilders’ and his Freedom Party’s main election promise was to solve a widely felt (but no less imaginary) immigration crisis by closing the border to people seeking asylum. As a result, one section of the coalition’s policy program stipulated that the new government would push through emergency legislation drastically restricting asylum procedures, initially bypassing parliament.
When Wilders and his immigration minister began taking steps in that direction, this became a major embarrassment for the NSC party, which takes pride in its respect for democratic mores but had now agreed to use a legal tool unprecedented in Dutch politics. Its solution was to play up a particular clause in the agreement: the minister was expected to present good reasons for using emergency legislation. Absent such reasons (of which indeed there were none), NSC signaled it did not feel bound to support it.
Obviously, this strained the cooperation with the Freedom party. New negotiations were opened, and a compromise reached. On one hand, there would be no emergency legislation; instead, there would be regular legislation with the word ‘emergency’ in it. On the other, stricter policies were now expected. Among else, it was agreed parts of Syria should be declared safe for return, so that refugees could be sent back.
(Yes, this was before the fall of Assad, and yes, it implied reinstating diplomatic ties with his regime; and yes, all of this petty deal-making at the expense of people who had fled its violence and atrocities did indeed take place in one of the wealthiest countries on the planet. If this were a rant, which it is not, there would have been a digression now about how when Assad’s regime suddenly collapsed, the Freedom Party’s immigration minister promptly halted asylum procedures for Syrian refugees.)
The day after, NSC’s acting leader explained herself. She implied the failure of emergency legislation had been her intention from the outset – the political equivalent of crossing your fingers behind your back when you make a deal. She also said Syrian refugees needn’t worry: in the Netherlands, regions are not declared safe or unsafe for political reasons! The cabinet could not decide to declare Syria safe for return, because such decisions are made by non-political government officials. Checkmate, Freedom Party.
Crashing into the guardrails
Or maybe not. When you empower your far-right partner to take actions you think of as empty gestures, or when you agree to play along knowing you will fail, you should at least consider the possibility that your partner also knows this. There is a reason they agreed to the deal.
It may be tempting to agree to dangerous and immoral plans, confident they remain impossible. Indeed, from one perspective, the Netherlands has absorbed a major electoral shock with mostly minor material changes in policy. We will likely see similar two-faced approaches more frequently in Europe, as relatively sensible right-wing or even centrist parties try to placate an electorate moving ever further to the populist right: promise to fly the car off a cliff, but intending merely to crash it into the guardrails.
However, even hollow measures can set a precedent for future assaults. Policy announcements that are doomed to fail are not cost-free: threats of deportation cause immediate harm to the people they are directed at. Moreover, even if they are reverted – even if they are not acted on at all – they linger as a possibility; they remind everyone that, should the nation get into a more sadistic mood, targets have already been identified. What is impossible now may not be impossible next time.
Most of all, you cannot take credit for being thwarted. Making plans you know are awful, in the expectation that another institution will prevent you from realizing them – effectively saying “don’t worry; somebody will stop me” – is profoundly irresponsible. It puts stress on the people and institutions it relies on. In the Netherlands, cases are already mounting of judges striking government measures directed against asylum seekers or undocumented immigrants. If government officials and the (unelected) judiciary have to bear more and more of the responsibilities that should be carried by elected politicians, that hurts the legitimacy of all of them. It wastes institutional power that we may well need later. Some day, the firefighters might not come.