Lamyae Aharouay: 'Doing business with the far right is no longer an issue' – and that's why she's leaving now
In recent years, normalising the unthinkable has become something of a sport in The Hague. We all watched it unfold – some with a sense of powerlessness, others with a shrug and the phrase "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 meeting room. In her farewell column, she does what she has always done best: cutting straight to the heart of the matter with her razor-sharp insight. And that core? It’s more grim than we often care to admit.
"Doing business with the far right is no longer an issue." That single sentence from her final piece lingers. This isn’t some conclusion drawn from a theoretical study; it’s the observation of someone who 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 by a sudden landslide, but by steady erosion. And Lamyae Aharouay refuses to accept that as the new normal.
The price of 'just playing the game'
In the corridors, people whisper about "pragmatism". As if bringing radical-right factions into the fold to secure a majority is just a simple numbers game. But Aharouay pops that bubble. She clearly demonstrates that it's not about pragmatism at all; 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 resistance, just another opinion. The price isn't just the credibility of our institutions, but also the safety and sense of belonging for entire communities across this country.
Her departure is, therefore, more than just a staff change. It’s a statement. Someone who articulated the failings with such precision is calling it quits. Not because she can't handle it anymore, but because she refuses to get used to the cold. Throughout her career, she consistently played a role that is easily forgotten in the hustle and bustle of daily news: that of the uncomfortable questioner.
- How can a cabinet that claims to stand for "normal decency" work hand-in-glove with parties that undermine the rule of law?
- Why is rhetoric that was taboo for decades now dismissed as simply "a different opinion"?
- And what does it mean for the future of democracy when the moral compass is replaced by a calculator?
These are the questions Lamyae Aharouay asked. And because the answers became increasingly uncomfortable or simply non-existent, she chose a different platform. Not to fall silent, but to make her voice heard in another way. It’s a loss for political journalism in The Hague, which has already seen so many sharp voices leave in recent years.
The silence after the blow
What’s left when the dust settles? The reactions to her farewell are telling. Where some politicians dismissed her work as "condescending", the recognition from the wider public was overwhelming. In the parliamentary corridors, but also out on the street, people acknowledge she was a seismograph. She felt the tremors before the rest of the country realised the ground was shaking. Her departure now forces us to think: have we truly lost the line? And if that line still exists, why is no one guarding it anymore?
For anyone who has paid even a little attention to The Hague political scene in recent years, it’s clear: Lamyae Aharouay's departure is a turning point. It’s the moment where the warnings are no longer scribbled on a note but are written on the wall in big, black 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 negotiating tables fill up again with the same people who pushed her to her limit, one question remains: who will be brave enough now to say that the emperor has no clothes?