Salon meeting Eduard Bomhoff

At the root of the Dutch malaise lies the rigidity of its institutions. It seems to have become a national tradition to appoint people on the basis of their network rather than their knowledge. Ministers, administrators, and senior civil servants often lack substantive expertise in their field but excel in managing internal relations and handling the media. Ministers can even admit to “having no knowledge of the matter,” provided they possess a solid network in The Hague. University administrators move on as soon as a better position beckons, while intellectual debate and academic independence give way to activism. Civil servants in Brussels focus mainly on the internal consistency of regulations, rather than on substantive insight or accountability for outcomes. Thus emerges a governing class that maintains itself but scarcely remembers what purpose it serves.

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Parallel to this institutional stagnation runs the narrowing of public debate. The media, once the watchdogs of power, have over time become the “modern lackeys” of a moral-ideological establishment. Moral reflexes prevail over rational analysis, with the result that dissenting opinions are easily disqualified. The media tend to follow the framing set by the bureaucracy rather than scrutinising it, thereby losing their role as an independent check on power.

A third dimension of decline lies in the economic short-sightedness of Dutch politics. Whereas companies must align their strategy with the market, many politicians seek to please all voters at once. This leads to smooth but contradictory messaging and a fixation on the short term.

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The latter can be illustrated with the metaphor of the discount rate: in economics, it reflects how much value one attaches to future returns. In politics, it translates into a time horizon. A low discount rate corresponds with long-term thinking (climate, infrastructure), a high rate with immediate concerns (poverty, security). A healthy society recognises that both perspectives are valid. The Netherlands, however, often treats this difference in time horizon as a moral difference: those who do not follow the dominant agenda are regarded as being “against.”

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Moreover, decision-making is no longer guided by cost-benefit analysis but by what might be called the uncertainty principle: the reflex to minimise risk regardless of the cost. Whether it concerns nitrogen emissions, climate policy, or public safety, policymakers focus on reducing uncertainty rather than on effectiveness or proportionality.

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This logic produces irrational measures – comparable to believing that traffic accidents can be prevented by endlessly lowering the speed limit - until no one drives at all. The result is that public policy strives for the appearance of certainty while paralysing society in the process.

Finally, Dutch policy structurally favours the demand side of the economy. Politicians and the media focus on purchasing power, consumption, and redistribution – topics that yield direct electoral returns. The supply side – innovation, productivity, entrepreneurship – is thereby neglected. The investment climate deteriorates, and companies leave the Netherlands.

This development recalls Renaissance Venice: when the Venetian elite abandoned trade in favour of privilege and status, economic vitality disappeared. The Netherlands likewise risks losing its productive engine as its governing elite becomes more concerned with reputation than with reality.

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Nonetheless, reform is possible. For instance, social security could be radically simplified by retaining only universal schemes such as the state pension and child benefit, while abolishing the myriad income-dependent allowances. This would reduce bureaucracy, restore respect for citizens, and clarify economic incentives.

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More important than specific policy proposals, however, is the recovery of courage – the civic courage that Tocqueville regarded as the foundation of a living democracy. Today, fear, self-censorship, and political calculation prevail. People hesitate to dissent for fear of reputational damage or social exclusion. The result is a culture of timidity in which no one assumes responsibility.