Let’s Connect instead of Polarize

Ron Hofman, CEO and Financial–Tax–Audit Team
FFO Int Investment BV

Contact: info@fifec.nl

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Let’s see each other again in the Zwarte Piet debate

The Zwarte Piet debate cuts deeper than we often want to admit. What started as a discussion about a character in a children’s celebration has grown into a conversation about who we are—and who we want to be—as a society. It touches memories, pain, pride, and the desire to belong. Perhaps that is exactly why it is so sensitive.

Tradition as a feeling of home

For many, Sinterklaas feels like coming home. It’s the comfort of hot chocolate, the smell of spiced biscuits, singing songs together, and the excitement you felt as a child when you put out your shoe. For them, Zwarte Piet is part of those memories—part of that safe piece of childhood.

So when someone says that a part of that tradition should disappear, it doesn’t feel like a practical adjustment—it feels like an attack on something dear. Then it’s not about face paint or a costume, but about protecting a piece of yourself.

That feeling is real. It’s human.

Pain that often remains unseen

But there is another story that is just as true, even if it may feel less familiar. This is the story of Dutch people who never experienced that same sense of safety around Zwarte Piet. For whom Piet’s appearance does not evoke a child’s friend, but a caricature that humiliated their ancestors. For whom other people’s laughter sometimes felt like it was laughter at their looks.

Many of these people have learned to swallow their pain, afraid of being seen as “spoilsports” or “too sensitive.” But the pain is still there—pain that doesn’t come from wanting to change traditions, but from the desire to simply be counted as fully equal.

That feeling is real too. And that is human as well.

Where we can meet each other

If you look past all the noise, you’ll see that both groups share the same longing:
to be seen, to be heard, and to belong.

One wants their traditions to be acknowledged.
The other wants their pain to be acknowledged.

And ironically, those are not opposites.
They are each other’s mirror.

The strength of a tradition that evolves

Traditions are not museum pieces. They live, grow, and change—just like we do. If we look at the heart of Sinterklaas, we don’t see face paint, wigs, or color. We see wonder, love, family, and connection. That is what makes the celebration great—not the appearance of a character.

All across the Netherlands we see that changes are possible without touching the heart of the celebration. Children still find the same magic. Saint Nicholas still arrives. Songs are still sung. Families still come together.

The celebration is alive—precisely because it dares to move with the times.

The choice we face now

We can keep getting stuck in accusations: “you want to take away our traditions,” or “you don’t understand the impact.” But we all lose that way. We become colder, harder, less connected.

Or we can try something else: truly seeing each other—in each other’s fear, each other’s pain, each other’s love for the celebration.

Not to decide who is right, but to recognize that every feeling has the right to exist.

Maybe this is the tradition we need

Maybe the greatest tradition we can pass on isn’t the color of Piet, but the ability to listen with empathy. To live in a society where there is room for everyone’s story. Where the celebration excludes no one.

Where, despite our differences, we keep holding on to each other.

That would truly be a celebration of connection.