The Hague has collapsed. Again. And while the Dutch may pride themselves on consensus politics and steady coalitions, this latest implosion—sparked by the populist hissy-fit of Geert Wilders—is not just another footnote in the lowlands’ long tradition of polder-model paralysis. It might just be the best thing that’s happened to Dutch cities in years.

Because if there’s one thing that successive national governments in the Netherlands have excelled at, it’s blocking progress in precisely those places that drive the country’s future: its cities.

Building While Drowning: The Urban Housing Fiasco

Nowhere is this dysfunction more palpable than in the crisis that defines urban life across the Randstad: housing. Or, more accurately, the catastrophic failure to build any. In Amsterdam, where average home prices hover at over €500,000 and social housing stock is being eviscerated faster than a Zuidas lawyer can sign a buy-to-let mortgage, the government’s promises to “build, build, build” turned out to be little more than nitrogen-choked hot air.

The cabinet set the ambitious target of 900,000 new homes by 2030. But as of last year, a mere fraction had made it past planning. Why? Because every national-level policy—on zoning, environmental regulation, and asylum accommodation—has been layered with such Kafkaesque complexity that local authorities spend more time filling in spreadsheets for The Hague than pouring foundations. In the words of Amsterdam’s housing alderman Reinier van Dantzig: “We’re told to build 7500 homes a year while also told we can’t build near Natura2000 areas, can’t build on farmland, and must house asylum seekers we’re given no funding for” – a conflict of objectives that – without political steer – is hard to mediate.

The Nitrogen Stranglehold: Bureaucracy in a Petri Dish

And let’s talk about stikstof—nitrogen emissions—because no article about Dutch urban planning is complete without it. Like Brexit for Brits or zoning boards for Americans, nitrogen has become the perfect excuse for inaction. Thanks to a landmark court ruling in 2019, any project that emits nitrogen near protected natural areas is effectively banned until proven otherwise. Cue the complete stalling of housing, infrastructure, even bike lanes in some cases. The national government has responded not with reforms, but with layer upon layer of planning red tape. This has turned local councils into environmental compliance officers, while the urgent spatial dilemmas of densifying cities—transit access, green space, climate resilience—have been pushed down the priority list.

Now, with no functioning government to interfere, municipalities may finally be able to pursue more pragmatic, locally grounded solutions without the ghost of The Hague breathing down their necks.

The Spread of ‘Spreidingswet’ and the Hollowing of City Services

And then there’s the Spreidingswet—the ill-fated attempt to enforce fair asylum seeker distribution across municipalities. In theory, a decent idea. In practice, a patchwork of panic. Larger cities like Utrecht, Arnhem, and Groningen, long accustomed to absorbing new arrivals, were told to do more, faster, and with less. Smaller towns kicked and screamed, national politicians blamed the cities for not doing enough, and municipalities found themselves on the hook for implementing policies that were both underfunded and politically toxic.

With Wilders pulling the plug on the coalition in protest of exactly these migration arrangements, city administrators might now be spared further rounds of what one local official described as: “Performative policymaking by people who’ve never run a municipality.”

The law officially took effect in early 2024, just as resistance among local councils and chaos around enforcement reached a boiling point.

Opportunity in the Vacuum: A Breather for the 15-Minute City

In cities like Eindhoven and Zwolle, where progressive coalitions have been quietly implementing smart densification, heat resilience strategies, and pedestrian-prioritised urban plans, the government’s fall opens a rare window: one in which the national power vacuum might allow cities to actually lead.

Gone (at least for now) is the hand-wringing about car-first infrastructure. Gone are the arbitrary limits on mixed-use zoning. Rotterdam could actually move forward with its waterfront regeneration without tripping over national flood defence permits. Utrecht might build its long-delayed orbital tram extension. And perhaps, just perhaps, Amsterdam could once again be a city for people, not Airbnbs. Eindhoven has already begun implementing 15-minute city principles in its design policies, with plans for proximity-based living and compact neighbourhoods taking shape throughout the Brainport region.

Conclusion: The Best Kind of Gridlock

For a country where a bicycle is often faster than a government permit, political standstill might just be the green light cities have been waiting for. Without the stifling grip of a reactionary coalition government, Dutch municipalities may now have the chance to reclaim autonomy over the very things they know best: housing, infrastructure, social cohesion, and spatial justice.

That said, no city is an island—especially not in a country where much of the land lies below sea level. National-level coordination remains indispensable for managing the big systems: delta flood protection, nitrogen emissions caps, national highway and rail infrastructure, and cross-border energy grids. Yet the binary framing of local versus national is a false one. In practice, cities are already forming powerful coalitions to tackle these issues. The G40 and G4 networks—representing mid-sized and large cities respectively—have developed joint climate strategies, mobility frameworks, and housing accords. Projects like NOVEX (Nationale Omgevingsvisie Extra) aim to integrate urban growth with climate and agricultural transitions through multi-level governance. As Utrecht’s former mayor Jan van Zanen once put it: “It’s not about who governs, but how we govern together.”

The current vacuum in The Hague doesn’t preclude governance—it invites cities to take the initiative, to coordinate horizontally where vertical authority is absent. And if this collaborative model proves effective, it could permanently alter the power geometry of Dutch planning.

And let’s be honest: if anything proves that top-down control isn’t working, it’s this. The Dutch state may be in crisis, but the city—ever pragmatic, ever adaptable—is ready to roll.

Cover image base: wikipedia.org