Lamyae Aharouay: 'Doing business with the far right is no longer an issue' – and that's why she's leaving now

In recent years, it's almost become a sport in The Hague: normalizing the unthinkable. We all watched it unfold, some with a sense of powerlessness, others with a shrug and a "that's just how politics works." But now Lamyae Aharouay is putting down her pen for good, and it feels like someone has thrown open a window in a stuffy boardroom. In her farewell column, she does what she has always done best: using her sharp insight to lay bare the heart of the matter. And that heart? It's grimmer than we often care to admit.

"Doing business with the far right is no longer an issue." That one sentence from her final piece lingers. It's not a conclusion drawn from some theoretical, academic analysis; it's the observation of someone who has spent years with her finger on the pulse of the Binnenhof. What was once an unwritten rule – a firewall against parties that undermine the rules of democracy – has washed away. Not from a sudden landslide, but from steady erosion. And Lamyae Aharouay refuses to accept this as the new normal.

The price of 'just playing along'

In the corridors of power, there's quiet talk of 'pragmatism.' As if bringing radical-right factions on board to secure a majority is just a simple numbers game. But Aharouay bursts that bubble. She meticulously demonstrates that it's not about pragmatism; it's a choice. A choice to give hate and racism – once kept politely at arm's length – a permanent seat at the negotiating table. It's the political version of the overton window: what was once unspeakable becomes, through repetition and a lack of pushback, just 'another opinion.' The price isn't just the credibility of our institutions, but also the safety and sense of belonging for entire groups of people in this country.

Her departure, then, is more than just a personnel change. It's a statement. Someone who could articulate what went wrong with such precision is stepping away. Not because she can't handle it anymore, but because she refuses to get used to the cold. In her work over the past few years, she consistently played a role that's easy to overlook in the chaos of the daily news cycle: that of the uncomfortable questioner.

• How can a cabinet that claims to stand for 'normalcy' systematically work with parties that downplay the importance of the rule of law?
• Why is rhetoric that was considered taboo for decades now being dismissed as simply 'a different opinion'?
• And what does it mean for the future of democracy when our moral compass is replaced by a calculator?

These are the questions Lamyae Aharouay asked. And because the answer was increasingly uncomfortable or simply absent, she chose a different platform. Not to fall silent, but to make her voice heard in another way. It's a loss for The Hague's journalistic scene, which has already seen so many sharp voices depart in recent years.

The silence after the blow

What remains when the dust settles? The reactions to her farewell are telling. While some politicians dismissed her work as 'patronizing,' the resonance with a large part of the public was overwhelming. In the corridors of Parliament, but also out on the streets, there's an acknowledgment that she was a seismograph. She felt the tremors before the rest of the country realized the ground was shaking. That she's leaving now forces us to reflect: have we truly lost our sense of where the line is? And if that line still exists, why is no one guarding it anymore?

For anyone who has followed The Hague political scene at all over the past few years, it's clear: the departure of Lamyae Aharouay is a turning point. It's the moment the warnings are no longer on a slip of paper, but are written on the wall in big, bold letters. The big question is whether The Hague will take this lesson to heart. But one thing is certain: she leaves a void that won't be easily filled. And as the negotiation tables fill up again with the same people who pushed her to her limit, the question lingers: who will now dare to say that the emperor has no clothes?