On Dutch Frankness

In Leiden: You can even sit outside near the windmill and have a drink.

Folks poking around online who intend to either visit or move to the Netherlands will doubtlessly come across one preeminent Dutch stereotype placing high in the list: “Dutch people are rude.” We’re not talking about stereotypically recognizable facets of Dutch culture like tulips, clogs, windmills, pot shops, red light districts, tall people, bicycles, pretty (and pretty flat) landscapes, and so forth. Those things are all true. But the rudeness thing? That’s more a texture of the country on a whole, and requires a bit of unpacking.

Taking one example out of many to illustrate what gets interpreted as “rude” by folks who are not Dutch, I can look back to shortly after I moved to the Netherlands. Without knowing anything about the specifics of sociocultural or socioeconomic differences within different neighborhoods of The Hague, I wound up moving to what I later learned was the most blue collar, politically conservative bastion of the city: Duindorp in Scheveningen (don’t worry about the pronunciation). And bear in mind: I mean Dutch-conservative, not whatever “conservative” means in your own country. So don’t go projecting another nation’s hangups and partisan nonsense on the Netherlands. But anyway.

Scheveningen is the beachside, westernmost strip of The Hague that runs along the ocean, while Duindorp is a rectangular, residential neighborhood on the southwestern edge of Scheveningen. It’s full of generationally-owned townhouses largely populated by laborers, beach bums, the elderly, and it has a smattering of public housing in it, as well. It’s also boxed in by the sea along one edge and two parks along two others, which serves as an excellent symbol for the neighborhood.

Duindorp, in a nutshell, is prone to incredibly raucous street parties and a general disregard for noise, holiday celebrations featuring decorations that rival the most gaudy in the United States, absurdly endless fireworks displays on New Year’s, tons of unpicked-up dog poop absolutely everywhere, is insular and protective of its own, and is a true, singular anomaly within the landscape of The Hague and the Netherlands on a whole.

Also, folks are chatty in Duindorp. Neither this nor any statements above are generalizations of any sort. In fact, Dutch folks are chatty in general – and I’ll get to that later. For now, simply imagine that if you mill around Duindorp you’ll likely pass by some person or another who says hi, makes some comment about the weather, asks you a friendly question, etc., etc. – more so even than other areas of the Netherlands. Also, if you go to a grocery store you should fully expect the cashier to pass to you, the customer, a plastic sign to put at the end of the grocery conveyor belt to indicate that that particular register is out of business for a bit. Hierarchies get even more flattened out in Duindorp – something else that I’ll also get to later which ties into the whole question of so-called Dutch “rudeness.” Clever readers at this point might be able to see where we’re headed.

So anyway, it was late summer when I moved to the Netherlands, meaning that it gets dark pretty late – past 10pm. After a couple months, however, autumn started settling into the land and sky, and it started to get darker earlier. Not much earlier, but earlier. I preferred it this way because bright skies late in the day really screwed up my sense of time, energy levels through the day, and so forth – not as bad as if you lived in the Arctic Circle in the Midnight Sun, but still.

One afternoon in autumn I was out and about – perhaps headed to the above-cited grocery store – when an older lady said something as I walked by. But rather than make a comment and continue walking, she full-out stopped and expected me to do the same for a brief, friendly interchange. And because this was an older person, I didn’t hesitate. However, we quickly switched to English when she realized that I was not, indeed, Dutch. Also for the record: literally everyone I encounter here thinks I’m Dutch.

Our whole interchange started, predictably so, with some comment about the weather. I don’t remember what it was, and it doesn’t matter. Then the older lady asked me where I was from, how long I’d been there, etc., and if I was still working. It’s flattering to think that she thought I might have been so self-made by my early 40s as to not need to work anymore, but no. I told her that I worked from home, and that I was happy to not need to commute because commutes are annoying. And if you’re one of those freaks who thinks that commutes aren’t annoying, well … godspeed. I also mentioned something about it getting darker earlier, and said that it was nice because I didn’t like it being bright so late.

Under usual circumstances, I’d expect someone who disagrees with a statement that I’ve made to make some polite, circumnavigatory statement in return. Maybe the other person assents to some truth in what I say, offers a counter-perspective, and – if the person is really adept – circles back around to reiterate the validity of my opinion and sum up where we are in the conversation at that point. But in the case of this older lady, upon hearing my opinion about darker skies earlier in the day, she simply frowned and blurted, “Oh, I don’t like it.”

This threw me off a bit, but I just nodded and said something like, “Oh yeah?” Then, she proceeded to tell me all the reasons why she didn’t like it, particularly how, when she was younger, she disliked leaving the house in the morning to go work in the dark, and coming home at the end of the work day in the dark again. It’s a good, pretty universal point, I think.

As I observed her explaining herself I didn’t sense any antagonism from her, regardless of how bluntly she replied and spoke. She was just saying how she felt, and saying so exactly. And because I was able to pick up on this quickly enough while she was talking, I followed suit. When she was done I took my turn and I explained how I felt. Then, she did the same until we were done and we smiled and say our goodbyes. Simple.

That’s when I realized that I’d experienced what most people call “rude” behavior.

Here’s the thing: Common sense rules the Netherlands, and is as bright of a loadstar to good behavior as the nation’s social hierarchies are compressed. Additionally, chit-chat rules the social roost. Dutch people love clean, simple, effective insights about everyday, commonplace topics. If you’re grounded enough, not a pretentious idiot, and demonstrate some comprehension of the universal human, then you’re good to go about 95% of the time. Equalization is key: you’re the same, we’re the same, everybody’s doing the same thing, chill out, calm down, live a normal life, no need to overreach, 70% is good enough, why the fuck are you working so late?, laugh a little, live a little, drink a bit, eat a bit, and so forth.

The byproduct of all such social texture, as I called it, is a direct, no-nonsense attitude towards interpersonal communication – and life writ large – that gets mistaken as “rudeness.” This is particularly true for people of cultures prone to more circuitous ways of communicating, or places that bend over backwards not to offend anyone and keep the social waters smooth.

So if you’re one of those individuals, well … get over it before you come here. That doesn’t mean go out of your way to be a jackass while in the Netherlands – Dutch people don’t go for that in the slightest. I simply mean that it’s perfectly possible to be polite and genteel and also be plain enough in your speech to be honest. Honest is the crucial word.

Or in other words: Cut the bullshit, ok? You’re in the Netherlands. Just try and be happy.