The Low Countries. Jaargang 6

[p. 195]

Dutch Intellectual Hospitality

In 1996 a new scholarly association was set up in Britain and Ireland to promote the study of the Low Countries^1.. Launched rather prestigiously at Cambridge University, it invited a quartet of specialists to deliver some inaugural papers. My contribution was a review of political studies in the Netherlands post World War Two. At the end of the paper I paid tribute to the indigenous scholars in this field, and wondered why more outsiders did not take advantage of Dutch intellectual hospitality. I have now been asked to recount my own experience of this phenomenon.

This I am very happy to do, but as always there are problems. One is that to do justice to all the hospitality I have received over the past quarter-century, I really need to name names. Otherwise my gratitude remains abstract. But I can't be sure that everyone will want to be included in my eulogy. So I must tread carefully. Also, my own activities as a student of Dutch politics are of less than general interest. But since they are the window through which I look, they will have to be mentioned. And the third problem is that it is always difficult to give recollections court-room precision. But I have not made anything up, nor have I needed to.

The original idea of studying Dutch politics came into my mind during a family Christmas in 1970. Later I was to discover that it was more original than I had imagined, given how few other outsiders embraced it. Essentially it was a decision to move my research to a nearer locale than Africa, which had taken up the previous twenty years of my life. So I sought somewhere which had, or appeared to have, interesting and even mysterious features, at least from the perspective of a political scientist. And since my university taught Dutch, I had access to a grounding in that language.

Some of the apparent mystery, admittedly, could be ascribed to ignorance. I already knew, or thought I knew, that the Netherlands was a country of mixed faiths, or confessions, and that these were reflected in the way many people voted. I also knew that the voting system was distinctive, that there was a relatively large number of national parties, and that governments were perforce - a word which instantly reveals a British bias - coalitions. But it would have been embarrassing, to say the least, had I been required to put some flesh on these elementary bones.

1. See The Low Countries 1996-97: p. 267.

[p. 196]

My knowledge of Dutch history was even less impressive. In my schooldays, the Dutch Revolt was a standard history topic, and there was total identification with the heroic struggle of the Netherlanders against the Spanish tyranny. But its treatment left little detail in the memory, other than stray anglocentric items like the brave death of Sir Philip Sidney - more cited in English poetry anthologies than by Revolt historians. Later items were mostly to do with monarchs. There was William of Orange, not the Silent but the Glorious in terms of the British pseudo-revolution of 1688, and the gallant London exile of Queen Wilhelmina during World War Two.

Obviously, I was in dire need of a massive injection of knowledge before attempting to embark upon any worthwhile research into the Dutch political scene. By way of a sighting shot I wrote to the London Embassy and was invited to call and have a chat. The Press Counsellor at the time, Dr D.G. van Wijnen, turned out to be my first Dutch host. He gave me not only valuable information and advice, but also, gratis, a copy of a book on the Dutch parliament. More importantly, he put me in touch with its marvellous author - Ernest van Raalte.

I cannot guess how many readers may have known the man or even the name, since he was born in the 1890s and died in the 1970s. A journalist by profession, he was for many years a parliamentary editor, and had become a leading constitutional expert. When I first encountered him and his delightful wife, at their house in Scheveningen, he was nearly 80. But he was still in full spate; he had just published another book that month, and although forty years younger, I was unable to match his pace.

Whether running for a tram or bustling along the corridors of the Binnenhof, there was no doubt who was the fitter man. After a fortnight of hectic interviews I retired with a bad back, whereas he was unmarked. During those weeks the flower of Dutch parliamentary chivalry was opened up for me by the magic password - Dr van Raalte (I don't recall anyone calling him Ernest). I was introduced to major party leaders, party officials, journalists and public figures. None, as I recall, made the least fuss about giving up time to an unknown foreigner. All were courteous, helpful and encouraging.

Alongside this invasion of The Hague went a parallel operation to gather up academic expertise. Before sailing to Holland - at that date the ferry from Harwich to the Hook was still the popular option - I had read most of what was available in English on Dutch politics. In the literature one name recurred, that of Hans Daalder at Leiden, whose department of political science was then eponymously housed in Hugo de Grootstraat. So to him I turned. Generously he conveyed advice, material and contacts and did for my academic initiation what Ernest van Raalte had done for my parliamentary.

Despite my ignorance, I had been compelled to formulate a topic round which to shape my enquiries, in advance of all the conversations and discussions. The one I chose was ‘party stability’. It should perhaps be explained that terms like ‘stability’ were part of the jargon of current political science. But the Dutch case offered a plausible reason for deploying it, given the cultural and political sea-change of the latter 1960s. Almost the first words which Hans Daalder uttered to me were ‘this is a very nervous political system’. So the issue of stability seemed a useful tool to open up the treasure chest of Dutch democracy.

[p. 197]

One very obvious contrast between the Dutch and British political arenas was that in Holland, a whole field of runners competed for representation; whereas Britain had always been an essentially two horse race. The generational attack upon the traditional pattern and style of politics, however, had unleashed the idea that a more polarised contest would lead to better government in the Netherlands. This kind of thinking was one of the strands which d'66 had woven into its basket of nostrums. For this and other reasons, what was then still a young movement presented an attractive target to a new researcher.

Serendipitously, one of my academic contacts, Peter Baehr at the University of Amsterdam, was kind enough to put on a soiree at his house for me to meet some of the d'66 founders. He also set up a seminar at the university where I regaled his colleagues with evidence of the awfulness of the British two-party system. And to round off his generosity as an intellectual host, he made it possible for me to publish my first article in a Dutch journal, Acta Politica. The article became a kind of passport for me. For some years it circulated as a recommended text in the political science course at Leiden. And when, in 1996, Acta Politica commemorated thirty years of publication, my warnings of the early 1970s were courteously cited in the editorial, prefacing a reprint of the article.

In 1971, I had no comparable experience of research in Europe. There was therefore no way I could judge whether my reception in Holland might or might not be paralleled elsewhere. On one point however it was possible to be relatively certain. An unknown Dutch scholar arriving in England would need a rare combination of luck and charm, then and now, to be afforded the same help and facilities.

A year after my initial visits, I was invited to a meeting of the Dutch political science association which coincided with the 1972 Tweede Kamer election. At the meeting I learned that intellectual hospitality in the Netherlands means that you don't attack other guests. Unfortunately I learned this after I had taken a swing, rhetorically let me stress, at a distinguished American visitor. Happily, though, this did not impede further contacts and new friendships. It is tempting to list those who, over the ensuing years, admitted me to their influential counsel and their company - Hans Daudt, Arend Lijphart, Jan Kooiman, later Rinus van Schendelen, Theo van der Tak, Rudy Andeweg, Ruud Koole - and I have succumbed to the temptation. As well as gaining friends, my research bred contact with notables of all parties, over several political generations.

But I must try to put all this gratitude into some kind of useful context. How might my immensely favourable experience be most convincingly explained? And let me quickly say that although I have so far detailed only early encounters, the pattern has continued up to the present. Is it simply a matter of individuals working in the same field getting on with each other? Clearly this could be the case. Whether it would apply equally in the natural sciences, or the humanities or even other social sciences, I have no idea; but why should it be different?

Yet I have already inserted a cat among the pigeons by doubting whether the reverse of my experience - an unknown visiting scholar in England - would have enjoyed the same welcome as I received. So we probably need to look for cultural factors - and what could make a social scientist happier?

[p. 198]

Since the early 1970s I have foraged further afield within Europe. In the mid-1970s I did some field research in Denmark, in the 1980s in Portugal, and in the 1990s in Hungary. Unsurprisingly each venture had different qualities. All of which can be mined to figure out what is specific to Dutch responses, albeit within my own limited frame of reference.

During the 1980s I started collecting data for a book which eventually circulated as the first account of the Dutch political system by a British author. Going through the literature I came across a new compilation, which was intended to be an on-going authoritative compendium of political information on the Netherlands. On reflection I realised that the organisation of systematic information was very much a feature of the Dutch approach, which was of course immensely helpful to non-natives. With this went a pride in conveying information, in having it assembled and to hand, and in being able to produce more if asked.

Now it would be unfair to imply that in the other countries I have mentioned, similar instincts are absent. Nevertheless, there is I think a special emphasis in the Netherlands upon the possession of accurate knowledge. One of my earliest informants connected this with the need to establish exactly the height of any piece of land above mean sea level; but that is surely comic simplification.

Informality is my next explanatory heading. Central to this is a fundamental position on equality, which is generally adopted in the Netherlands. Contrary to easy assumption, Dutch attitudes towards equality are not typically European. If one had to put it very concisely, they are essentially republican and anti-aristocratic, and as such have more affinity with North American attitudes. In consequence one rarely encounters assumptions of implicit, unexplained (and often inexplicable) superiority. This has the practical effect of making the exchange of information remarkably free of social tension.

Of course, among the generation which was relinquishing political influence in the latter 1960s some traditional reserve was part of the mindset. But it rarely if ever suggested an aloof elitism. Privileged to interview the by then long-retired minister-president, Willem Drees senior, at his modest house in Beeklaan in The Hague, I was struck by the total absence of any kind of pretence or what in England we call ‘side’. Here was to all appearance a republican leader claiming no patricianly edge over those he had formerly led or those who called upon him. As a footnote, it was during his premiership that elevation to aristocratic rank was formally abolished, in 1953.

Visiting another country and expecting its inhabitants to gracefully explain it, invites, as any anthropologist would no doubt confirm, a range of possible reactions. At one extreme one might simply be ignored, or told to mind one's own business. These would be discouraging but not unintelligible responses. The opposite reaction would be for the citizens to take genuine pleasure in unveiling and expounding their manners and customs. For that they would presumably need to be broadly happy with their ways of dealing with each other. Otherwise embarrassment would feed secrecy and evasion. Too great a delight with one's institutions could of course emit complacency, self-satisfaction, even arrogance. In this respect my many Dutch informants manage to achieve the near-impossible. For they succeed in combining complete openness with unaffected modesty, and a critical attitude to things Dutch with a collective self-assurance.

[p. 199]

One result of my study of Dutch politics is that from time to time I have been able to use my findings to warn fellow-countrymen of the costs of certain kinds of political change. Just as I have conveyed to Dutch colleagues my antipathy to the British two-party system, I have conversely enjoined British voters, in articles, lectures and broadcasts, not to expect too much of, for example, a different system of representation.

The Dutch electoral system is anyway under constant internal scrutiny, although actual revisions during the past quarter century have been marginal. Undoubtedly the most significant political change over that period has been the decline, and now virtual displacement, of the Confessionals. Institutionally the change which strikes a British observer is that relations between parliamentary parties and ministers have become less detached. Of course, unlike the United Kingdom, parliament is still not the exclusive recruiting ground for the Cabinet.

Where the uk seems recently, suddenly, spectacularly to have finally copied the Dutch style of politics, is in the inauguration on May 1st, 1997, of centrist government. Whether this profound step owes anything to the effect upon Labour of my 1991 book about the Netherlands - Governing from the Centre - I cannot easily judge.^2.

Let me conclude with a perfect illustration of all I have claimed. In preparing this article I needed to find out more about the career of Ernest van Raalte. So I rang nrc Handelsblad, for which he had long worked, though not of course since the 1970s. Unsurprisingly they asked for time to look into my request. There followed a daily phone call to report progress, and, within a week, a letter enclosing a c.v. and a short obituary. I think that would be hard to beat for courtesy, helpfulness and efficiency. So the prize in these particular stakes must go, summa cum laude, to the Netherlands.

ken gladdish

2. Governing from the Centre: Politics and Policy-Making in the Netherlands. The Hague, 1991. See also ‘The Government of the Netherlands’ in Western European Government and Politics (ed. M. Curtis). New York / Amsterdam, 1997.