British politics has developed a curious allergy to compromise. To concede ground is framed as weakness. To negotiate is to betray. To meet an opponent halfway is, we are told, to have no convictions at all. And yet, across the North Sea, one of Europe’s most successful democracies quietly carries on proving the opposite.

In the Netherlands, compromise is not a failure of politics. It is politics.

At the heart of that tradition sits Democrats 66 (D66), the liberal, pro-European party founded on the belief that democracy works best when it is open, plural, and willing to adapt. Under the leadership of Rob Jetten, D66 has remained unapologetically progressive while also engaging seriously with the hard, sometimes uncomfortable business of coalition-building.

The Netherlands’ latest government formation, which ended days ago with a minority government of D66, the the centre-right Christian Democratic Appeal (CDA), and the liberal People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD) – complex, drawn-out, and occasionally messy – has once again prompted familiar complaints from British commentators. Too many parties. Too much negotiation. Too much horse-trading. Surely, they say, this proves proportional representation leads to paralysis.

In reality, it proves something else entirely. Proportional representation reflects society as it is, not as a voting system wishes it to be. The Netherlands is plural, diverse, and ideologically varied – and its Parliament mirrors that reality. No single party gets to impose its will unchecked. Power must be shared, priorities must be argued through, and outcomes must command a broader consent than the wafer-thin mandates so often produced by Britain’s first-past-the-post system.

That is not democratic weakness. It is democratic maturity.

D66’s role in Dutch politics has consistently been to insist that liberal values do not evaporate the moment compromise enters the room. Climate action, civil liberties, social inclusion, education reform, and Europe-facing internationalism are not abandoned because negotiations are difficult. They are fought for – sometimes line by line, sometimes policy by policy – within coalitions that reflect the electorates full complexity.

38-year-old Rob Jetten, who will be his nation’s youngest ever Prime Minister when he takes up office, embodies this approach. He is neither a bomb-thrower nor an appeaser. He argues his case clearly, accepts the arithmetic of parlaiemt honestly, and understands that progress in a plural democracy is often incremental rather than theatrical. That does not make him timid. It makes him effective.

Contrast this with British political culture, where “strong leadership” is often conflated with obstinacy, and where compromise is caricatured as moral collapse. We have trained ourselves to believe that winning means silencing opponents rather than persuading them, and that governing means bulldozing rather than building. The result? Artificial majorities, wild policy lurches, and a political discourse permanently stuck in campaign mode.

First-past-the-post rewards absolutism. It encourages parties to chase narrow slices of the electorate while ignoring the rest. It allows governments to claim sweeping mandates on minority vote shares – and then express outrage when the public resists being governed, as if consensus exists where it plainly does not. Dutch politics, for all of its frustrations, is more honest.

Coalition talks are not a bug of proportional representation; they are its most transparent feature. Voters know in advance that no party will get everything it wants. They understand that politics involves trade-offs. And crucially, they can see those trade-offs being made in real time, rather than being buried behind the fiction of single-party omnipotence.

This has something important to teach British politics. Compromise does not mean abandoning values. It means recognising that values must coexist with other people’s values in a shared democratic space. It means distinguishing between core principles and preferred methods. It means accepting that politics is not about ideological purity but about improving real lives under imperfect conditions.

Liberals, in particular, should not fear this terrain. Liberalism has always been about balance: between freedom and responsibility, rights and duties, individual choice and collective obligation. The idea that liberalism flourishes only in winner-takes-all systems is historically illiterate and politically self-defeating.

If anything, the Dutch experience shows that proportional systems can protect liberal values by embedding them in negotiation rather than leaving them hostage to electoral roulette.

British politics does not need to copy the Netherlands wholesale. But it does need to unlearn the frankly childish notion that compromise equals surrender. Democracy is not about a boxing match. It is a shared endeavour – and the willingness to meet others halfway is not a moral failure, but a democratic value.

In that sense, Rob Jetten and D66 are not offering Britain a foreign curiosity. They are offering a mirror-and a reminder that grown-up politics is rarely loud, rarely simple, and almost always collaborative.

A cracked Ceiling in Canterbury – And the Work Still to Do

The appointment of Sarah Mullally as the first female Archbishop of Canterbury is a genuinely historic moment – not just for the Church of England (of which I’m a congregant), but for a country still shaped, culturally and politically, by its institutions.

For more than 1,400 years this most senior role in role in the Anglican Communion has been held exclusively by men. That fact alone tells us something about how deeply patriarchy has been woven into the structures of the Church. Mullally’s elevation cracks that ceiling – but it does not magically dismantle the system beneath it.

The Church of England is not only a spiritual body; it is a political one too. It sits in Parliament (with Bishops in the Lords), shapes national conversations, and carries moral authority far beyond its pews. That makes questions of inclusion, equality, and representation impossible to sidestep. A Church that preaches human dignity cannot indefinitely defend structure that exclude women, LGBT+ people, or those who do not fit traditional power hierarchies.

Mullally’s leadership comes with both symbolism and responsibility. Representation matters – but so does what follows. The task now is to ensure this moment is not treated as an endpoint, a congratulatory pat on the back, but as a catalyst.

If the Church is to remain relevant, credible, and morally serious in the modern world, it must fully embrace inclusion – not reluctantly, not partially, but unequivocally.

Faith, at its best, should challenge injustice, not sanctify it.

The Greens lack credibility on defence – and Zack Polanski knows it

The Green Party’s position on NATO is increasingly detached from the world as it is, rather than the world some might wish it to be.

In an era of resurgent authoritarianism, territorial aggression, and open contempt for international law, collective security is not a Cold War relic – it is a necessity. Figures like their still pretty new leader Zack Polanski are too smart not to know this. Yet he continues to parrot a party line that treats NATO as the problem rather than a defensive response to genuine threats.

Voters are not naive. They understand that peace is preserved not by wishful thinking, but by credible deterrence. On this the Greens look utterly unserious – and increasingly unbelievable.

* Mathew Hulbert is a former Councillor, is a regular commentator on TV and Radio, and is Co-Host of the Political Frenemies podcast.