The cannabis experiment is science. Legalisation is politics.

After fifty years of coffeeshop policy, we know that regulated sales work. Yet, parties continue to hide behind research.

After fifty years of coffeeshop policy, we know that regulated sales work. Yet, parties continue to hide behind research, even though their positions have long been determined by conviction.

It is often suggested that the legalisation of cannabis is merely a matter of time. As if, once the cannabis experiment is concluded, we will automatically arrive at a decision based on 'science'. This is a misconception. The experiment is about data, measurements, and process — but legalisation is a political choice. And politics is not about facts, but about convictions, ideology, and power.

It is remarkable that parties claiming to champion freedom only apply this concept as long as it aligns with their own norms and values. Their notion of freedom turns out to be limited — a privilege, not a principle. The right to self-determination, which should be undisputed in a mature democracy, suddenly seems not to apply when it concerns personal choices.

When we send letters to more conservative parties, ask for clarification, or offer a meeting to explain or substantiate policy, silence prevails. There is no response. The same parties who extol freedom in every speech appear deaf as soon as the subject does not fit their moral mould.

Politics is not about data

Regulation and legalisation are political choices. They touch upon values: freedom, responsibility, public health, morality. And that is precisely where the dividing line lies.

The Experiment gesloten coffeeshopketen (Experiment into a Closed Coffeeshop Supply Chain) is defined as a temporary experiment investigating the effects of regulated cultivation and sales. It is scientific in nature: measuring, evaluating, reporting. Yet, in political practice, it is often used as a delaying mechanism. Politicians hide behind "the outcomes of the experiment," while they already know beforehand what they think of it. Thus, science becomes a shield against political courage.

Because the facts have long been on the table. In the Netherlands, we act as if we still need to discover whether regulated sales work, when after fifty years, we already know that it does. Coffeeshops emerged in the 1970s as a pragmatic solution to a heroin epidemic that was then disrupting entire neighbourhoods. They separated the markets for soft and hard drugs, thereby proving their utility: nuisance decreased, the number of heroin addicts dropped dramatically, and the Netherlands was internationally lauded for its realistic approach.

This historical context seems forgotten. Where coffeeshops were once part of the solution, they are now often portrayed as the problem. Politicians speak of "experiments" and "risks," but ignore that this system has functioned for decades — without the societal disruption they predict.

And this is precisely where it becomes clear that decisions are not about knowledge or experience, but about conviction.

Anyone examining the party positions on the Cannabis Kieswijzer (Cannabis Electoral Guide) will see how little the discussion still has to do with facts and how strongly moral convictions set the tone. The differences are significant, but predictable. It is striking that many parties do not seem to base their judgment on research or on the results of the experiment, but on moral conviction or political positioning.

The PVV (Party for Freedom) is at the very bottom: against regulation, against expansion of the experiment, and for strict enforcement of the ban. The party calls the experiment "a wrong signal" and seizes every opportunity to argue for its reversal. The BBB (Farmer-Citizen Movement), like the PVV, opts for a line of "protection" and "healthy lifestyle." Concepts that sound friendly but in practice amount to paternalistic policy. The SGP (Reformed Political Party) is at least honest: freedom may be restricted if deemed morally desirable.

The VVD (People's Party for Freedom and Democracy) adheres to the experiment as a trial but refuses to comment on subsequent steps. The party chooses administrative comfort over vision: first evaluate, then perhaps decide. And then there is JA21, which has largely remained aloof from the cannabis debate in recent years, but according to the Cannabis Kieswijzer, is for the first time clearly taking a more positive stance. The party expresses support for expansion or legalisation of the cannabis experiment. This development shows that even within the political centre-right, the scope for realism is growing. This shift deserves recognition, precisely because it opens up the debate where others continue to avoid it.

When you follow the debate about cannabis, you see that it is not a matter of science, but of conviction. Political parties use the experiment to confirm their own ideological boundaries.

The pattern is broader

We see this pattern not only with cannabis. In recent debates on nicotine products and vapes, the same tension between freedom and morality played out. In the written consultation on nicotine pouches and disposable vapes, the PVV, BBB, and SGP argued for stricter prohibitions and more sanctions, while the very parties that warn against "nanny-statism" in other dossiers suddenly no longer trust the citizen.

Moreover, something remarkable emerged: the use of flavoured vapes has increased since the ban. Young people appear to find vapes with prohibited flavourings more easily than ever through illegal channels. The black market is flourishing, just as happened previously with cannabis when repression triumphed over realism. The ban has not reduced use, but displaced it — from regulated to unregulated, from visible to invisible.

The VVD defended the ban on disposable vapes with the same reasoning it uses to advocate for market forces: in the name of citizen protection. The freedom of the entrepreneur outweighs the freedom of the consumer. The political logic is thus complete: where economic freedom generates profit, it is celebrated; where personal freedom is morally uncomfortable, it is restricted.

This selective handling of freedom shows that the concept in the Netherlands has largely been hollowed out. It is used as a political banner, not as a principle.

Freedom as a political possession

The core of the problem is that freedom in the Netherlands is treated as party property. One party claims economic freedom, another social freedom. But the freedom to control one's own body — to choose what you consume, how you live, what you believe — remains a political taboo.

Anyone who consistently defends the right to self-determination should, in a democracy, make room for diversity in lifestyle, belief, and behaviour. Yet, it turns out that precisely this domain is the weakest point of parties that like to portray themselves as "freedom-loving." The PVV calls for freedom of speech but wants to dictate what people can and cannot use. The BBB appeals to common sense and individual choice but simultaneously advocates for lifestyle policies. And the VVD, which once stood for trust in the citizen, has now turned freedom into an administrative process: a consultation, an evaluation, a pile of research results.

This calculated caution is precisely what has hindered the Netherlands for decades. We know what works: regulating, controlling, and taxing is more effective than prohibiting. But political courage is different from policy caution.

Stalemate as strategy

The strength of conservatism is that it doesn't have to change anything to win. Every delay is a victory. As long as parties stick to the narrative that regulation would be "too early" and requires "more research," the status quo remains intact. And the longer this status quo lasts, the more political power shifts to the parties that postpone change.

The irony is that precisely this lack of decisiveness perpetuates crime. Anyone who invokes order and safety but refuses to replace the illegal market with a regulated, transparent supply chain is, in fact, choosing chaos. Not because they want to, but because they confuse daring to take responsibility with maintaining order.

The cannabis experiment is science. Legalisation is politics.

And as long as politicians continue to hide behind research results to mask their moral discomfort, nothing will change. The question is not what the data says, but what parties dare to decide once that data is available. Freedom is not a byproduct of policy, but its starting point. Anyone who claims to defend it must stop selecting which freedom counts.

Anyone who truly believes in freedom must dare to accept that it also applies to choices one does not personally like. That is where mature politics begins.