Yunus MaziThe fall of the Dutch government this week over migration policy has reignited the debate over how Europe deals with its far-right.
But beyond political tactics, it exposes deeper fractures — between secular majorities and religious minorities, rhetoric and governance, and electoral theatrics and democratic responsibility.
The Freedom Party (PVV), led by radical far-right leader Geert Wilders, withdrew from the Dutch coalition after failing to push through 10 hardline migration demands — including border closures for asylum-seekers, military patrols, and the deportation of Syrians with temporary residence permits.
His coalition partners — the VVD, NSC, and BBB — have accused him of sabotaging the government for personal gain.
Some observers saw the move as a calculated step ahead of potential new elections.
But Joram Jaron van Klaveren, a former PVV member and now a Muslim public commentator, disagrees.
He links Wilders’ exit to “internal dysfunction”, resulting from his failure to deliver on his promises on immigration curbs.
“Wilders blamed the centrist NSC for slow progress (on issues dear to him), when in fact they were simply upholding constitutional limits. You can’t ignore the law just to get quicker results,” van Klaveren tells TRT World.
Dr. David F. J. Campbell, Associate Professor at the University of Vienna, sees personal ambition and strategic calculation behind Wilders’ exit.
“Wilders was likely never satisfied with the compromises required to be part of a centre-right coalition. Perhaps it also frustrated him not to be Prime Minister. Polls show his support may be declining — he may have anticipated further losses and forced new elections to regain momentum,” he tells TRT World
Foreign policy friction: Israel as a breaking point
While migration was the formal trigger, one often-overlooked factor in Wilders’ decision to exit the Dutch coalition was foreign policy — specifically, Israel.
Wilders has long been one of Europe’s most vocal pro-Israel figures.
His Freedom Party embraces a staunchly Zionist identity, often framing its anti-Islam rhetoric through the lens of a “Judeo-Christian West” threatened by Muslim migration.
According to van Klaveren, this ideological stance became a source of deep internal conflict as Dutch public opinion shifted.
“In the beginning, the coalition was fully pro-Israel. But after mass protests against Israel’s actions in Gaza, led not just by Muslims but by ordinary Dutch citizens, some coalition members began rethinking their positions,” he says.
These shifts, however modest, were unacceptable to Wilders.
“He literally said, ‘I cannot take this anymore.’ Even a slightly critical stance on Israel was too much.”
The PVV did not control the foreign affairs portfolio, which gave the centrist NSC leeway to soften rhetoric as public pressure mounted.
For Wilders, this was not just a political loss, it was an identity crisis. His unwavering support for Israel was no longer guaranteed by the coalition, and that fractured his trust in its direction.
Van Klaveren believes this played a key role in the unravelling of the coalition.
“It wasn’t just migration… or internal dysfunction. It was the sense that the party was losing its ideological red lines — and Israel was one of them.”
The episode highlights how foreign policy — particularly around Israel — can serve as an indicator for broader ideological loyalty within right-wing coalitions.
In this case, it became the final straw.
A networked far right across Europe
The Dutch case is part of a broader European dynamic: far-right parties are no longer isolated outliers but increasingly act as coordinated political players across borders.
“In 2012, we began building an international network — Vlaams Belang, Austria’s FPÖ, the Sweden Democrats, Vox in Spain, Le Pen’s party in France, and eventually the AfD in Germany,” says van Klaveren.
These alliances now stretch into the European Parliament, where far-right factions make up the third-largest bloc. They exchange strategies, lend each other political support, and continue to professionalise.
“They’re gaining influence continent-wide — and learning from one another,” van Klaveren says.
Nationalism, identity politics, and anti-migration rhetoric are no longer fringe positions. Increasingly, they are shaping governance across Europe.
Austrian political analyst Klaus Jürgens, however, is more sceptical of the far-right’s transnational potential.
“A nationalist party rarely finds real partners abroad. If you want to make your own country great again, you can’t make another great at the same time. These movements — think Hungary, Poland, Italy — are trying, but I don’t see long-term success for a pan-European far-right alliance,” he tells TRT World.
The Austrian political analyst also sees major structural differences between parties like the AfD in Germany and the Dutch PVV.
“Germany’s post-war division and the AfD’s strength in former East Germany make it a very different story than in the Netherlands. Dissatisfaction with the political elite fuels both, yes – but they emerge from very different historical contexts,” he says.
And he warns against the illusion of national self-sufficiency: “If every country says ‘make us great again’ in a vacuum, we’re headed for global fragmentation — and very few will come out on top.”
Campbell emphasises that far-right populism is rising, but not everywhere victorious.
“In Romania, liberal Nicușor Dan beat his right-wing challenger; in Canada, Australia, and South Korea, recent elections were won by centrist or left-leaning forces,” he points out.
When it comes to comparing the PVV with Germany’s AfD, Campbell urges caution: “Both advocate restrictive immigration policies, but the AfD occupies a more controversial space — even Marine Le Pen’s party cut ties with them in the European Parliament over revisionist statements.”
He adds: “Given Germany’s historical legacy, Europe and the world will always scrutinise far-right movements there more critically than elsewhere.”
The centre in crisis
As the far right grows, Europe’s centrist parties face a strategic dilemma: isolate them or co-opt their rhetoric. Germany’s political mainstream has so far upheld a “firewall” against the AfD — often cited as a model of containment. But van Klaveren doubts its effectiveness.
“We tried the same in the Netherlands. It didn’t work. The PVV kept growing,” he says.
Far-right parties need not be in government to influence policies, as centrist parties are increasingly adopting their positions.
“That’s the irony. Wilders always said: ‘They’ll end up doing what we want anyway’,” van Klaveren says.
To effectively resist the far-right, Campbell stresses the need for legal and institutional pushback: “No one stands above the law. Democratic systems must hold far-right politicians accountable like anyone else.”
Jürgens traces the roots of the appeal of the far-right agenda to the campaign strategy of leaders like Wilders and US President Donald Trump: exploitation of voters’ frustration, especially around identity, economy, and migration.
“If snap elections are called in the Netherlands or Germany, there’s a real risk they (far-right parties) would come out on top,” he tells TRT World.
Faith, fear, and the cultural divide
Underpinning these political shifts is a cultural rift: between a secular mainstream and religious minorities. Van Klaveren identifies secularisation as a major, overlooked force behind growing polarisation.
“Religion has become alien. People fear it. That applies to Christians too — but Muslims, who look and live differently, are even easier targets.”
Islam, long seen as Europe’s “Other”, faces added suspicion in a post-religious society that no longer understands faith-based worldviews.
“There’s a group that still believes, still practises, and looks different. That makes them an easy target.”
The crisis in The Hague is not just about asylum law — it is about Europe’s political and cultural soul. As centrist parties drift rightward and secular societies lose touch with faith, the real danger lies not in one man's exit — but in what remains unquestioned at the centre.
