Why does the Dutch workforce look like a cappuccino?

Let’s talk about the glass ceiling in the Netherlands, the one that everyone pretends isn’t there because the bottom looks so colourful. The Netherlands loves calling itself diverse: a “global hub,” a “melting pot,” a place where everyone from everywhere can find a home. And yes, if you look down, it really is that colourful. But try looking up. Try lifting your head through that glass ceiling. Suddenly, the rainbow disappears, and the higher you go, the whiter the room gets.

It’s the cappuccino system: the bottom of the cup is full of rich brown tones, migrants, internationals, people of colour and diversity, all swirling together doing the essential jobs, the labour, the service work. But the higher you climb, the lighter it gets, until finally, at the top, it’s just white foam and white men calling the shots. Darkest at the bottom, lightest at the top. A whole diversity gradient that looks like a cappuccino!

And to be fair, I do see both sides of the coin. Some people call for Dutch pride. For the nation to protect its own talent, uplift Dutch workers, and try to maintain cultural heritage in a rapidly globalising world. But at what point does pride quietly morph into discrimination? Where exactly is the line between cultural preservation and cultural gatekeeping?

The Dutch DEI (Diversity, Equity & Inclusion) system looks fantastic on paper. You’ve got the Algemene Wet Gelijke Behandeling (General Equal Treatment Act), which prohibits discrimination on the basis of race, gender, religion, age, nationality, and more. Then there’s the Wet Gelijke Behandeling van Mannen en Vrouwen, the law meant to ensure equal treatment between men and women in employment and pay, and the Wet Gelijke Behandeling op Grond van Handicap of Chronische Ziekte, which protects people with disabilities or chronic illnesses from discrimination in work and education. All of this sits under Article 1 of the Dutch Constitution, the grand promise that “everyone shall be treated equally” in the Netherlands. Add the Arbeidsmarktdiscriminatie Preventie Plan, a national strategy aimed at preventing workplace discrimination, and the broader EU Anti-Discrimination Directives, which set minimum equality standards across member states. On the surface, it looks airtight – a polished web of protections that should guarantee fairness for everyone.

But the loopholes in this system are where everything quietly collapses. First, these protections only activate after discrimination has already occurred, forcing individuals to prove it themselves with almost no proactive oversight. Second, EU citizens get full labour protection while non-EU internationals are funneled through labour-market tests and sponsorship rules that prioritise Dutch candidates by default. Third, the Dutch labour model pushes 75% of women into part-time work, which blocks working mothers from advancing in their careers long before any “equal treatment” law can protect them. Fourth, years of research show applicants with Turkish, Moroccan, Surinamese, African, or Caribbean names are 30–50% less likely to get interview callbacks, but because discrimination must be proven case-by-case, this pattern continues untouched. Fifth, employers hide exclusion behind vague terms like “cultural fit,” which is entirely legal and impossible to challenge. Sixth, companies often list Dutch fluency as mandatory even for jobs that don’t require it, effectively screening out internationals without ever breaking a rule. And seventh, Dutch diversity policies are almost entirely voluntary. No mandatory reporting, no required representation data, no enforced DEI training. Compliance becomes optional, and accountability disappears.

Which, all in all, isn’t bad because Dutch people have an important history to preserve. And preserving your culture and history is important. And whether we like it or not, globalisation is in full swing. A big percentage of people in the Netherlands are international, and that statistic is even higher in Amsterdam. So it wouldn’t be favourable to cater to an audience that is not representative of your own population. But if we continue down this path, it gets elitist, and look who's currently getting blamed for that! Although it is an extreme comparison, the Third Reich didn't happen overnight. It is really hard to celebrate a history and culture you are trying to become a part of is that culture is trying to kick you out. So the ultimate question is, at what point does Dutch promotion turn into exclusion? Is the Netherlands balancing national promotion and exclusion well, or is it time to stop masking discrimination as cultural protection?

And here’s the thing: I get it. The Netherlands is a small country that became a global maritime powerhouse. It built entire cities on trade routes, resisted occupation during World War II, fought bitterly for its own independence, and is still confronting the layered legacies of its colonial past. This is a nation shaped by centuries of sailing, negotiating, innovating, and reinventing itself, and you can feel that history everywhere, in the language, the architecture, the traditions, even in how Dutch people think about community and identity. Preserving a culture, a language, a heritage – that matters. It really does. And honestly, I even see the importance of insisting that people learn or know Dutch in the workplace. Language carries memory, humour, history, and identity, and keeping a language alive keeps a culture alive too. And it makes sense that a country that is proud of its roots wants to protect them. But no one is asking the Netherlands to erase itself through DEI.

Globalisation is not politely knocking at the door anymore; it has already moved in, applied for a BSN, and registered at the gemeente. Amsterdam alone has more internationals than nationals in some neighbourhoods. If we keep heading down this path of cultural protection disguised as hiring policy, it starts sounding less like pride and more like elitism. And for many internationals, it becomes painfully ironic:

How can you celebrate a culture you’re desperately trying to integrate into if the system quietly pushes you out?

So What’s the Real Question Here?

It’s not “Should Dutch culture be protected?”

Of course it should. Every culture deserves continuity.

The real question is:

At what point does Dutch promotion become exclusion?

Where do we draw the boundary between national pride and structural discrimination?

So I’ll put it to you:

Is the Netherlands balancing cultural protection and diversity fairly, or is it time to stop masking exclusionary practices with the language of DEI?

Because if the cappuccino looks beautiful only from the bottom, then maybe it’s time to stir the cup.