The bridge playing senior calls himself very engaged, the market trader no longer follows the news

They could have been the characters from a joke: a pensioner who is a member of a bridge club, a lawyer who works at an international Zuidas office, an ROC student and a market vendor. In this case, they are not sitting at a bar, working towards a punchline, but are the subject of an in-depth examination of political trust.

This theme has preoccupied scientists and politicians since politics existed. Recent research shows that confidence in politics is low: according to the Social and Cultural Planning Office, half of the Dutch still have that in the government, while the House of Representatives is not doing much better with 1 percent more. These are not alarmingly low numbers, say political scientists. Also important: low confidence figures alternate with high figures, such as during the corona crisis. There is no question of structurally low confidence.

Eefje Steenvoorden, a political scientist at the University of Amsterdam, has been researching political trust and discontent in society for fifteen years. What has never really been researched: “The worldviews behind the averages. Do highly or practically educated people derive their confidence from something else?” SCP research shows that 50 percent of citizens with a VMBO diploma say they have confidence in the government, compared to 71 percent among university graduates.

To understand why, she researched how various groups in society think about politicians and what they base their trust (or mistrust) on. Her research, commissioned by the Ministry of the Interior, will be published this Thursday.

The four groups with whom Steenvoorden spoke on several occasions represent extremes in society: the well-earning lawyers who benefit from globalization on the one hand, market vendors who are increasingly under pressure from, among other things, delivery services with international parent companies on the other. One winner of globalization, the other loser. One usually without money worries, the other with. One highly educated, the other practical. Bridge seniors and ROC students have similar differences.

She spoke to the groups separately. What struck her: “The lawyers wanted to discuss the questions and definitions. The bridge-playing seniors found themselves very engaged. The market vendors said they no longer wanted to follow the news because it made them depressed, but turned out to be very well informed about current political events.” The ROC’ers noticed something different. “Part of them did not know the difference between the government and parliament.” She also saw this reflected in the market vendors. This matters, because this distinction is often made in surveys. She sometimes saw overlap in the arguments about whether or not to trust politicians. Especially the way in which the debate takes place (tone, personal attacks) is mentioned by everyone as a reason for less confidence.

So is breaking promises, although the advocacy group can put this into perspective. There is an understanding of the fact that politicians in a campaign also say things that they cannot live up to. This is different with the ROCs. “The GroenLinks election program contains the proposal to give all 18-year-olds a starting capital of 10,000 euros to combat inequality of opportunity.” The party came into opposition, but it doesn’t matter to the students. “There is the image that Jesse Klaver did not keep his promise.”

Steenvoorden saw the greatest contrast in how groups relate to politics. Education level is the main dividing line. The market vendors and students do not feel represented and experience a great distance from politics. In these groups they personally know victims of the Supplementary Affair. “I almost noticed apathy among the students, they feel like outsiders.”

There are also differences between the two highly educated groups. “The lawyers were remarkably positive. The long formation, the benefits scandal, they were very put into perspective about it. ‘It doesn’t affect me’, I heard.” The seniors who play bridge “are aware that they are all well off and so are their children, but that part of society is less fortunate.”

A cartoon was made of the first two conversations that Steenvoorden had with the groups, which she then presented. And there too she saw a difference in how the lawyers and bridge players experienced the drawings about the political experience of the market vendors and students. “There was an awkward silence among the bridge players. They thought it was terrible to see that those groups did not feel heard. The lawyers were irritated. There it was said: ‘all that complaining, it’s about those groups all day long in politics. In the Netherlands you can still sit comfortably in front of the TV with benefits. You can also look for another job’.”

Her research, says Steenvoorden, shows how layered political trust is. “Behind those average figures, fundamentally different perceptions appear to exist.” It also raises points of attention for politicians. “The practically trained groups do not feel represented and experience little influence. They do not dare to count on their interests being taken into account in new policy.”

Another recurring concern: “Politicians should be careful with trial balloons. They can land in the wrong place with some groups if they are not fulfilled.” In all groups it sounds that politicians should be honest about it if they are going to break a promise, or do something in a different way than stated beforehand. “There is an understanding of that, people do understand it. They want it to be spoken.”

The research only took place in Amsterdam. This makes no difference to the results, says Steenvoorden. “The core is that there are major differences between the way groups experience politics.” The differences between Amsterdammers, she says, are already great. “Then you know: in the rest of the country that is only more.”