Yesterday was election day in the Netherlands. Though, for a moment, I had the dates wrong and nearly missed it. Luckily, I realized just in time. It was my middle son’s first vote, and to make it a family moment, we brought along my youngest, Nadia, to show her how democracy works.
Seven-year-olds see the world differently. As we stepped into the voting booth, she looked up at me and asked, “Are people also voting on you?” I laughed and told her, “No, darling, I didn’t nominate myself.” Then, when casting my vote, I let her cross the box for my chosen candidate — a woman with a name that made her giggle. “Cook-cook!” she blurted, announcing my secret to the entire room. I hushed her quickly. “Shh… it’s a folding secret,” I said, teaching her the first small rule of democracy: respect the quiet of other people’s choices.
Floating Between Ideals
I’ve never been loyal to a political party. Which is odd, considering how loyal I am in most parts of life — family, work, friends. But in politics, my compass drifts. I suppose I’m what they call a floating voter: someone who listens, compares, and ends up somewhere near the center.
Dutch politics almost feels like a board game at times — a chaotic one, with nineteen parties on the ballot. No one wins a majority; coalitions are inevitable. I find it fascinating, frustrating, and deeply human. There’s always that moment in a televised debate where you wish one politician would simply say, “You have a fair point.” Not to win, not to score, but to bridge.
When I asked my AI assistant, ChatGPT, which party fit me best, it came back with three: Volt, D66, and the Party for the Animals. Centered-left, thoughtful, not too extreme. Volt resonated most — pro-European, tech-forward, privacy-conscious — and maybe because their spokesperson is a lawyer, it reminded me of my wife, Ruth. Smart, calm, idealistic.
I nearly voted Pirate Party again, but Ruth was right: they’d get no seats. So Volt it was. A pragmatic idealist’s vote.
Identity, Trust, and a Name at the Ballot
There’s a small side story too; one that says a lot about the quiet messiness of family life. Ruth officially took my last name this year, nearly a decade after our wedding. But since her passport hasn’t been renewed yet, her ID still shows her maiden name. When she asked me to vote on her behalf, I had to bring her ballot and signature to the polling station.
The volunteer eyed the mismatch: “This isn’t the same name.” I explained. “She’s my wife. New last name not yet on the ID. Signature matches. Birth date too.” She studied the papers for a moment, then nodded. “All right. I believe you.”
That small moment of trust felt strangely sacred — a human override in a system of rules. Democracy isn’t only about laws; it’s also about faith in one another’s honesty.
Between Choice and Chaos
Now, as the results tighten, D66 neck-and-neck with the PVV, I can’t help but think how elections mirror the games we play. Secret Hitler, One Night Werewolf — games of trust, deception, alliances. Everyone claims to act for the common good, but actions always reveal more than words.
Maybe that’s what democracy really is: a long, imperfect game of hidden motives and open ballots. We vote in silence, fold our papers, and hope the outcome still reflects some shared truth.
And maybe that’s the real secret — the folding one my daughter stumbled upon:
that behind every mark on paper lies a story, a hope, and a name we quietly believe in.
What's on your mind?