research

The gaps in Dutch legal protection

Across the country for your civil rights

Can you still get your justice in the Netherlands if you clash with the state? Research shows: your wallet and zip code matter. Those who live outside the Randstad are less well protected. “This damages trust in the government.”

March 12, 2025 — published in no. 11

Charlotte Arnoldy, Rens van der Beek, Or Goldenberg, Sahra Mohamed and Bobby Owls

Image Milo

At dusk, surrounded by small piles of snow in damp grass, the first people are waiting. We are located on the municipal border between Brunssum and Heerlen. It is fifteen minutes before opening time, the doors of the Salvation Army are still closed.

While the client is let in, “out of the cold soon!” , a volunteer serves coffee and tea for Desiree van Deurse, one of the few “street lawyers” in the Netherlands. This is her office. Soup costs one euro, you get fresh sandwiches for €1.50. More than ten years ago, Van Deurse first came into conflict with the government himself. She had five jobs and hopped from flex contract to flex contract until she had a car accident. She could no longer pay the rent; in her own words, she had “a termination of rent up her ass”. Her problems escalated to such an extent that she ended up in a hearing without a lawyer. With one arm still in a cast, she worked sixty hours a week to pay the bills. Shortly thereafter, she ended up in the sickness law after a “pregnancy that did not go well”. She lost her home because of her violent former partner. She has experienced the problems that her clients face herself. “After it was all over, I started complaining,” says Van Deurse. “That is also a right.” Through an advertisement on Marktplaats, Van Deurse met Tom Franssen, he is the lawyer and she is the expert who speaks 'the language' of people looking for help. The entire region knows how to find their office hours. From Landgraaf, Kerkrade, Heerlen, Sittard: via via email, they end up at Desiree van Deurse. Through the vet, the reiki teacher, social workers, or even the police officer. With 'Desiree' you should be when you want to get beyond the paper legal reality, says one client: “The court doesn't look at the emotional, only what's on paper.” Serious abuse with police negligence or serious absenteeism on the part of a healthcare institution. The litigants beat up poignant story after story. From time to time, Van Deurse switches to dialect. There are laughs, there are tears. All within three hours. They joke with each other and the clients. When Franssen proposes a legal solution, Van Deurse creatively comes up with an alternative approach. “Have you already knocked on the door of the municipality? I still know a politician. “Van Deurse's work is a resounding success. But that was not included in the UWV. The street lawyer does her work voluntarily and also receives WIA benefits. The UWV recently ruled that she should continue her street advocacy paid, at least she is no longer entitled to benefits. 'I'm forced to ask for money for what I do, 'says Van Deurse. This is not possible for everyone, but it seems that several litigants are willing to do so. “That then has to be done in installments, otherwise they can't pay it.”

This is an investigation of the Green/Investico masterclass

This story is the result of the Investigative Journalism Masterclass from research platform Investico and weekly magazine The Green Amsterdammer. This time, five young journalists with diverse backgrounds delved into the question: where can you still go as a citizen for help if you come into conflict with the government? They had over a hundred interviews with lawyers, legal counselors and litigants. In addition, they did extensive data research. The guidance was provided by Investico chief editor Thomas Muntz, Green-editor Coen van de Ven and Investico editor Emiel Woutersen.

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Kees van den Bosch speaks to the masterclass journalists

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Where else can you turn to if you clash with the government and don't have the money to defend yourself? To answer that question, research platform Investico and The Green Amsterdammer map out where there are gaps in legal protection. Although the right to legal aid is enshrined in the constitution, the government has been gradually pulling its hands away from it for fifteen years.

We analyzed a dataset of thousands of social lawyers and nearly a thousand Legal Counters, law shops and other legal help points. In addition, we had more than a hundred conversations with care workers, experts, social lawyers and litigants and analyzed requested figures and reports from government agencies. In particular, this shows: legal protection is crumbling across the country, but not at the same pace everywhere. Whether you're protected under the rule of law depends not only on what you earn, but also where you live. In Enkhuizen, Stavoren or Winterswijk, you can travel by public transport for an hour before a social lawyer can help you. This is while a third of all Dutch people depend on a social lawyer, who is largely paid by government subsidies. “The regional differences have become far too great,” says National Ombudsman Reinier van Zutphen. “Many citizens are depressed and weary. They are facing a government that is not solving their problem. “Although after the benefits affair, one of the main conclusions was that citizens were not protected by the rule of law — the official reports have titles such as Unprecedented injustice and Blind to people and justice — little is still changing. Although investing slightly in accessible legal help, the current cabinet is again cutting back on the social advocacy. Twelve percent less money will go to this government. Last week, a comprehensive report full of recommendations was published — investing an additional forty million a year in the social advocacy — but it remains to be seen whether the cabinet will take over. The social advocacy has now ended up in a death house structure. Between 2019 and 2023, the number of social lawyers fell by twelve percent, but the real blow is yet to come. The profession is rapidly aging. Until recently, 4,400 social lawyers were still working in the Netherlands. According to the Legal Aid Council, 2,500 of them are heading towards retirement. In case of legal conflicts between citizens and government, where a lawyer is not mandatory but often necessary, legal assistance is under considerable pressure. The number of lawyers assisting citizens in the field of social insurance and benefits has more than halved since 2019. At the same time, young lawyers are leaving the profession en masse.

“That's not possible,” says a woman on a December morning at the “form point” in Delfzijl. She left in white. Just before, volunteer Tjerk de Vries casually asked her if she knew she had to pay back money to the tax authorities “in 2023”. A few hundred euros, but hundreds of euros that Mrs. can't just miss. She moves back and forth in her seat, with a toddler on her lap. De Vries gets up. 'I'll get Dennis. '

In a doctor's office behind soundproof doors — a leftover from the GP office that used to sit here — the woman tries to keep her toddler quiet while she waits. Just a minute ago, she wanted to get up, thank De Vries and say hello. The question she came here with was about her childcare allowance and it has been answered. But now she has had a problem. Delfzijlers with questions about surcharges, the UWV, complicated mail or DigiD know how to find their way to this form point. Sometimes people come in with a letter from the Postcode Lottery or a survey form from the municipality who don't understand what to do with that. Here they can visit retired chemist Tjerk de Vries or one of the other volunteers every Wednesday morning. De Vries comes into the doctor's office with Dennis Huisman. Huisman is the only paid employee and the only one with training in socio-legal services. That makes him a so-called social counselor. He asks questions, the woman answers, he watches the screen and then sees what's going on. “There were mistakes in preparing the annual statements, which were trickled through to the tax authorities.” She's not the first person to get to the form point with this problem. “We often only see that rules have changed or things go wrong when our waiting room is full,” says Huisman later. For this woman, he can still straighten it out. “But there will also be people who paid assessments and didn't have to, and couldn't pay at the time.”

When Dennis Huisman identifies problems that need to be legally challenged, he calls Rechtshulp Noord Advocaten. This is how it is organized in the Netherlands: anyone who gets into trouble usually first reports to a Legal Counter, a social counselor or another 'accessible' desk. If your problems are not resolved there, you can seek help from the second line: a social lawyer.

In the Paddepoel district of Groningen, next to a veterinary clinic and opposite a swimming pool, social lawyers Sonja de Vaal and Ars van Braam work in their windowless offices. It requires coordination about who comes to the office when, “otherwise it will be a bit crammed”. You can go through the entire building in six big steps: from the entrance with two bright purple armchairs to the kitchenette — a counter with a Senseo machine — and the ceiling-high shelving units full of filing boxes. De Vaal continues to work until the minute of our appointment. She is' flooded 'again today. 'I get a constant call asking: can you do my business? ' She has been working since 1986, making her the firm's youngest lawyer. There is no new growth. For years, more litigants have managed to find the office than the office can handle. Not only from Groningen, but also from Friesland and Drenthe. De Vaal and Van Braam have seen a once flourishing system of legal protection in the Netherlands radically change. Both started their careers forty years ago at offices of the Office of Legal Aid. These publicly funded offices were set up across the country in the 1970s to solve the shortage of accessible legal assistance. They zealously took files out of citizens' hands to handle them. But in the early 2000s, The Hague drew a line through the offices. Legal assistance was rigorously cut in two and those who worked for a Legal Aid Office were faced with a clear choice. Did you want to stay? Then you ended up in a new organization, the Legal Counter, and you were only allowed to give advice. Those who wanted to email, call or litigate for litigants and opted for social advocacy had to find an office or become self-employed. “Back then, I just opted for the legal profession,” says Ars van Braam.

Social lawyers depend on government money to help people at a low rate. In the legal world, they call this grant an “addition”. When Fred Teeven starts as Secretary of State for Security and Justice in the first Rutte cabinet in 2010, the system will be stripped down step by step.

Protests and concerns from the judiciary are ignored. The court fees and co-payments for litigants are being increased, eight of the nineteen courts are closing, and the additions that social lawyers receive are no longer adjusted for inflation. “As of 2013, justice will be funded by those who make use of it,” Rutte-I's coalition agreement summarizes concisely. In 2014, the Netherlands Bar Association, which supervises the social advocacy, will investigate the consequences of this policy and expects a substantial outflow: half of the lawyers say they are likely to leave the profession within a few years. 'The biggest reason for this is that it is no longer profitable. 'A few years later, the Netherlands will have its first 'Minister for Legal Protection'. In 2017, Sander Dekker (VVD) will be the guardian of the right to legal aid enshrined in the constitution in the third Rutte cabinet. In the same year, at the request of the cabinet, a committee concluded that legal protection is under serious pressure; social lawyers are underpaid and the government's intention to cut back is' problematic 'and 'unachieveable'. Just 127 million euros per year should be added. Dekker ignores that advice. It will take five years and a benefits affair before some of the recommendations are adopted under considerable pressure in 2022. However, the structural money is not forthcoming.The broken promise of the rule of law, as the report published in 2024 in response to the benefits affair and the Groningen earthquake damage is called, summarizes the consequences of the cuts succinctly: “For many citizens, it became more difficult to get justice because government policy increasingly limited their access to justice.” Sonja de Vaal and Ars van Braam have seen it all happen. “With every colleague who stops here, an area of law that will not come back will disappear,” says De Vaal. Van Braam is going to phase out his work to retire this year. And who else can call social counselor Dennis Huisman from Delfzijl?

Availability of social security lawyers

Residents dependent on subsidized legal aid per social security lawyer

Amsterdam region 1 in 3,776 inhabitants

Achterhoek 1 per 24,497 inhabitants

3,000

14,000

25,000

Our analysis shows that affordable legal assistance is unevenly distributed across the Netherlands, sometimes even to an extreme extent. For example, a social lawyer in the Achterhoek must serve more than six times as many people as a social lawyer in the region around Amsterdam. There are only four lawyers in the Achterhoek who can help you if your social assistance benefits are unfairly stopped; five years ago, there were twelve. While one hundred thousand people live there who depend on a social lawyer in the event of a legal conflict with the government.

Because many social lawyers are quitting, the distance between litigant and lawyer is growing in many places. Are you dependent on social assistance or WMO support and are there legal disputes about this? Then your lawyer is now not only about ten kilometers further away than in 2019, but a visit will also cost you more public transport balance or gasoline. For some, this is an inconvenience; for others, it is a reason not to go. Some municipalities are freeing up money for social counselors, such as social counselor Dennis Huisman in Delfzijl. On the other hand, 164 of all municipalities have no social counselors, which is almost half. In addition, these counselors and women are usually only allowed to help residents of the municipalities in which they work. In Friesland, where only two of the eighteen municipalities have social counselors, about half a million residents are without this form of help. In the absence of social counselors, volunteers have set up alternatives such as legal offices, form brigades and so-called “paper shops”, places where you can just walk into. But drive into the Noordoostpolder with Lemmer and this accessible legal help disappears completely. No office hours in Nagele, no paper shop in Emmeloord. An Urker who wants to discuss the financial consequences of her divorce privately sits in the car for an hour and a half before a ten-minute conversation, it appears that traveling longer than half an hour for many people is simply too much for many people. it's a long time to get help. The umbrella organization of managers in the social domain Divosa calls this the “counter jungle”. Accessible legal assistance is so fragmented in the Netherlands that it is difficult for citizens to determine whether and where help is available. Utrecht University of Applied Sciences also calculated that less accessible legal assistance is available in municipalities where residents are poorer. In fact, there is less help in municipalities where relatively many victims of the benefits affair live. For all counters and support points outside the four major cities, we checked how often they are actually open and whether it is easy to walk in. Of the more than nine hundred emergency counters, 850 are open less than one working day per week without an appointment. There are counters with extended opening hours in Amersfoort, Den Bosch and Kerkrade, but, for example, the Added Value Plus Spaarndam only opens half an afternoon every last Monday of the month.

Presence of social counselors per municipality

Only half of the Dutch municipalities have social counselors

With social counselors

Without social counselors

After the Achterhoek, Drenthe is the region most deprived of legal assistance in conflicts with the government. You do have a Legal Counter in Emmen, but you can't hang your coat there anymore, you're not supposed to “stick around”. You draw a number and are called to a counter, where you can only stand. Staff will give you information and advice, but if you want help with an appeal, you will be directed to the sample letter on the website.

As soon as your problem becomes legally complex, you will receive a paper list with the names and phone numbers of social lawyers that you need to call yourself. In Emmen, there are still two social lawyers specializing in social security and one appears to be around the corner. But when you walk past it, you see a shop window boarded up with wood. “A car flew through,” says a lawyer from the same city. “No idea whether they are working there again.” To his “great sadness”, Edward Cats is the only one in the wider area to hold the title of social security lawyer. You should contact him in case of a conflict about, for example, your social assistance or disability benefit. That area of law isn't even the most important part of his practice. With Ter Apel around the corner, he mainly works overtime with asylum and immigration law. Sometimes people come to him who are diametrically opposed to the government with their problem, “who have no money, absolutely nothing”. Even then, he must “take a good look at his agenda” and determine whether he can take the case. “I can't jeopardize my practice. The clients I've already hired are also entitled to good assistance. ' Try it in Zwolle, Groningen or Assen, he tells them, even if that gives them a journey time of at least one hour. “If I can't even help people in my own environment, I find that really annoying. “He's also used to getting calls from people in the surrounding area — Borger, Odoorn, Hoogeveen — that he's also used to. He is the last person that people can still turn to. When he stops, there is no one left. “And I really want to retire,” says the sixty-year-old lawyer. 'I won't go on until I'm 72. '

Tatjana shuffles uncertainly through the halls of one of the four highest administrative judges in the Netherlands, the Central Appeals Board in Utrecht. She holds three dolls under her arm. Each doll has a different hair color. Tatyana's own dark brown hair falls straight past her face. Her free hand grabs her mother's. Tatjana herself does not know that she is ill, but the 24-year-old woman needs help getting dressed. When she sees a dog, she freezes. She doesn't cross a major road herself. She has a motor developmental delay, is low-gifted and is on the autistic spectrum.

Above the counter is the text: “Law is not a forest, but you can get lost in it, if you don't know your way around, all trees seem to have the same leaf.” Social security lawyer Jenny van Helden from Sittard knows her way around here in Utrecht. On behalf of Tatjana, she is appealing a case against the UWV about Tatjana's Wajong benefit. Van Helden argues that Tatjana's ability to work will not change through treatment. In addition to the lawyer, a counselor also traveled on behalf of the municipality of Sittard; mother and daughter themselves would not have found their way from South Limburg to the Board of Appeals. At the outset, the judge summarizes the case briefly: “The benefit was refused because the UWV says that treatment is still possible for Tatjana. The UWV states that as a result, there is no permanent disability. ' “There has been no treatment diagnosis yet,” says the UWV lawyer. “A treatment should be tried.” Judge: “You are diametrically opposed.” Jenny van Helden: “Treatment is not recommended by her doctor.” Tatjana's counselor raises her hand. “Can I say something?” She gets the floor. “We've been trying to build her skills for six years. Tatjana can't stand change. She now distributes bingo cards twice a week at a retirement home. She also needs help with that. Without an assignment, she won't pick up the cards. Treatment does not lead to her ability to work. Changes in her life cause so much stress that she damages herself, so much that the police sometimes come to the door because of reports. “From a “human point of view”, the UWV lawyer can imagine that. “But we are bound by the laws and regulations that apply. Our conclusion is that not everything has been tried yet. “For this case, the Central Appeals Board is the final stop in the Netherlands. Whoever loses here is done. Attorney Van Helden has worked on this case for about thirty hours, but the Legal Aid Council, the government body that pays subsidies to lawyers, reimburses her only ten hours. Sometimes she earns less than twenty euros per hour for a Wajong business. Tatjana and her mother were lucky that Van Helden wanted to take on the complicated case and the municipality of Sittard had sent a counselor with the family so that they would not get lost in law.

It is clients like Tatjana that lawyers usually run away from. This is what emerges in Groningen at Eef van de Wiel's office. She is the dean of the Bar Association of the Northern Netherlands region, the supervisor within the legal profession. Today, she invited three lawyers: Kristiaan Spoelstra from Groningen, Daniëla Jakobs from Emmen and Marita Jansen from Heerenveen.

The region is not an easy one. Social lawyers are scarce in the north. “Almost all offices have shut down out of cost savings, those lawyers are now working in guest rooms at home,” says Van de Wiel.Dat. The three lawyers recognize the image. Colleagues quit, they get busier and therefore become more critical of the things they accept. Kristiaan Spoelstra: “If I even think a case requires a lot of attention during an intake, I won't hire it.” Daniëla Jakobs confirms that: “Such a huge hornet's nest. You can only accept a few of them. In those hours, we can also help four others. “A case can be a “hornet's nest” due to the multitude of agencies or jurisdictions involved. Marita Jansen is increasingly rejecting benefits and recovery cases. “They last endlessly.” Other times, it is the client himself who costs extra time, for example if someone is confused or keeps calling with a new question. According to the dean and lawyers, the subsidy is miles away from the actual number of hours worked in these cases. “But”, Spoelstra admits, “these are actually the cases that should be taken by lawyers, where legal assistance is really needed. “If a litigant is refused by every lawyer, he ends up with Eef van de Wiel. Her job as supervisor is to “find a lawyer after all”. This usually means calling around until someone succumbs. That in itself is a last resort, but it is only intended for cases where a lawyer is required, such as divorces or bailiff cases. This is not the case in most conflicts between citizens and government, so Van de Wiel rejects them. “Sometimes with a bleeding heart.”

During a tour of 71 social lawyers throughout the Netherlands, fifty of whom are active in social security law, we encounter the same struggle time and time again. A large number of lawyers reject clients once or more times a week.

Due to the shortages, they are receiving questions from all over the country and clients are being transferred across provincial borders. A social security lawyer in Arnhem gets clients from Eindhoven. When she doesn't have time, she forwards them to Zutphen or Utrecht, but she knows it's usually pointless. “Most clients don't have a car and come on foot, by bus or scooter. There are also sick and old people among them. “In distressing cases, social lawyers stroke their hearts, sometimes even to the detriment of their own wallets. “You can make an essential difference for someone,” says most of them. For example, a Groningen lawyer offered his client a medical examination worth thousands of euros in a case against the UWV. A lawyer from Utrecht ignores cases of “people with too high standards, who are disconnected from reality, or who are even aggressive”. Two others admit to rejecting people who “can't explain their problem properly right away”. Sometimes they refer to other lawyers or back to the Legal Counter. “Then they'll figure it out there.” For example, there is actually a “double scarcity”. Not only is the number of lawyers declining in the country, the lawyers, who are overwhelmed with requests for help, also have things to sort out. “Many citizens leave it alone when they are unable to find help. This only makes problems bigger, worse and more unsolvable,” says ombudsman Reinier van Zutphen. He warns of a dichotomy. “On the other side is a group with stamina or so angry that they say: I'm going to push myself to the limit.” Amy is one such person. She receives rejection after rejection in her mailbox when she wants to appeal against the tax authorities. After a failed appeal period, she not only wants to go to court, even though she has a PhD in law herself. She needs someone who can oversee the whole problem. 'I had nightmares about new blue letters every week. 'No one wants to take her case. The 22 social lawyers she emails are too busy, unsure whether they can get an addition, or only want to help her if she pays the normal rate — around three hundred euros per hour. The six weeks she has to appeal are ticking away. She has already had two years of questions from the tax inspector. “Every time I sent a receipt, another letter was on the mat.” When asked if she can visit the office to talk about the case, she gets no answer. It feels unfair, unfair, and so she doesn't leave it at it.Eventually, she finds a lawyer who wants to do the case in the nick of time. With him by her side, her nightmares stopped. The lawyer knows that he is underpaid. The Legal Aid Council estimates that he will put in nine hours; in reality, that is more than twenty hours. “Sometimes you just have to help people,” he says. It's exactly what the Netherlands Bar Association warned about in a report ten years ago. A “business rational lawyer” will recognize that complicated cases are a loss and are therefore more likely to refuse such a case. Complex, annoying or extra needy litigants are shown the door. The thicker the file, the greater the chance of rejection.

Mariske Smits, Vlissingse at heart, has been a social counselor for 32 years. For two years, she has had to refuse requests for help from her fellow townspeople almost every week. Smits, a big bunch of grey curls and a colorful flower scarf, still looks back a little dazed at the cuts her own municipality made. In a letter to the city council, she emphasized that social counselors are there to show vulnerable residents the way in the forest of rights and obligations. “We raised the alarm, but the plan went ahead as usual.”

It hurts her, because she knows that the socio-legal help she can offer in Vlissingen is probably needed “much, much more” than in Middelburg and Veere, where she and her colleagues are still working. “At my office hours in Middelburg, people have often tried to do something about their problem themselves and only then seek extra help. Vlissingen is a working class city; people usually came there with a bag full of unopened letters. ' She doesn't know where those people are going now. Vlissingen is under the financial supervision of the state. Money that the municipality received from the state for legal protection came “in favor of the financial statements” two years in a row. On paper, Vlissingers should now join the Neighborhood Teams, which have taken over the role of social counselors like Smits. In a presentation about the Neighborhood Teams five years ago, the college emphasized that the municipality wants its residents to participate in society “as much as possible on their own”. Where you could walk into the counselors almost every working day, you should make an appointment with the Neighborhood Teams first. After that, it can take up to ten days for an employee to visit. But he will probably have no legal expertise: there is no one with that specific background in the Neighbourhood Team. The only two social security lawyers in Vlissingen, both close to retirement, have not been forwarded to anyone since the counselors disappeared.

Legal help points accessible without an appointment

You can only go to most help points in the Netherlands to a very limited extent.

More than 0 hours a week

More than 2 hours a week

More than 4 hours a week

More than 6 hours a week

More than 8 hours a week

More than 10 hours a week

More than 12 hours a week

More than 14 hours a week

More than 16 hours a week

They see each other less and less often in court: government agencies that must guarantee livelihoods and citizens who come to them for it. Last year, social security lawyers filed almost half fewer lawsuits than in 2019, from 29,000 to 15,000. Once again, this decline is not evenly distributed across the Netherlands. In the east and north, where there are relatively fewer social security lawyers, the number of cases fell relatively faster year after year than in the rest of the country.

We requested figures from UWV benefits agencies and the Social Insurance Bank on the number of appeals that citizens file against them. That number has been decreasing every year over the past three years, by sixteen percent at the UWV during this period and by almost twenty percent at the SVB. In this “professional phase”, it is common to hire a lawyer, but in UWV cases, only two thirds of clients nationwide appear to do that. And here, too, the national distribution is uneven: for example, in Groningen, 75 percent of the litigants are alone in court, while in Eindhoven that is only fifteen percent. Where the decline comes from remains unclear. Perhaps this is partly due to the “slightly more human eye” of major implementing agencies, but partly, lawyers fear, it is caused by the vulnerable no longer being able to find their way to legal aid. They are rejected, do not know who to turn to, or are afraid to ask for help anymore. 'I notice that there is a lot of fear, for example about high costs, 'says a lawyer from Groningen. According to an Apeldoorn lawyer, how many people you don't see is a 'dark number'. Where legal help disappears, the conflict itself also disses.Ombudsman Van Zutphen recognizes this. “Based on the complaints we receive, I don't get the impression that the government is doing better. I think that people are no longer able to litigate because they can't find anyone or it has become too expensive.” Professor of Access to Law Liesbeth Hulst has been researching trust and distrust in the rule of law for some time. 'I've seen for over twelve years that citizens feel a lot of distance from the legal world of judges and lawyers. Social lawyers contribute to trust among the people they assist and the wider public, through the experience of being treated fairly and limiting more visible problems. “According to Hulst, a lawyer has a bridging role. “But if it falters due to shortages, it can also damage public trust in other legal professions and in the government in general.” In The Hague, the decline in lawsuits against the government is celebrated as a success. It is exactly how Minister for Legal Protection Sander Dekker envisioned it in 2019. “If we look at people's problems with a slightly more human eye at large implementing organizations, the number of things can go down."Dekker had already achieved an earlier goal by then. In 2017, he stated that the number of cases could easily have decreased by a tenth by 2024. That milestone was already reached two years later and the ministry came out with a jubilee: if lawsuits can be scaled back so quickly, can't the ambition be increased?

In the country, initiatives are emerging to combat disappearing legal protection. But these initiatives are uncertain: they rely on philanthropy, municipal experiments, or lawyers who volunteer.

Fridays are the busiest at Stichting Je Goed Recht, supported by the charity organization De Verre Bergen. Rotterdammers are helped with legal problems free of charge in a store on the Beijerlandselaan, between clothing stores. “People walk by here and you see them stop to walk back and look,” says director Carlijn Vervoort. The foundation explores all options to help litigants. Calling authorities, writing and sending letters, submitting applications for emergency financial assistance. “People are taken more seriously when we send a letter or call,” says Vervoort. “Then someone calls with decent jobs and business language. “There's a cart of printed soup cans in the corner. “Last winter, we spent three weeks at the food bank every day,” says Vervoort. “Is everything going haywire?” the labels say, “our help is free!” Your Good Law hands out plasterboxes on the market — “First aid for legal questions”. This store was an experiment, says Vervoort. “It became much busier than expected. Even when we were still between the moving boxes and working, a man came to us with an urgent letter. ' Yesterday, a handyman came by and assembled an extra conference table.

“It has never been defined what is “an adequate range of legal assistance”, says Irene Nijboer. According to the director of the Legal Aid Council, this definition should also not be made by its implementing organization, but by the Ministry of Justice and Security. “How bad is it when you have to travel ten or fifteen kilometers for a lawyer?” she asks herself out loud. That could perhaps be solved with a travel allowance. In addition, experiments with 'hybrid' working have already been successfully carried out during the corona period. “For us, there is a shortage as soon as we are no longer able to match lawyer and litigant.”

The Council is responsible for subsidised legal aid. As an implementing body, the Council pays out the additions to social lawyers. It is the distribution of scarcity. According to Nijboer, the fact that complex cases take more hours than the lawyers get paid is part of the story 'the game'. “But,” she nuances, “on the other hand, there are things that take fewer hours. If things really get out of hand, lawyers can request extra hours. They really have to show the need for that. “However, several lawyers we spoke to said that they will never be granted those hours and that's why they won't even try it anymore. “As a lawyer, you are also an entrepreneur,” says Nijboer, “they have to make the decision about applying themselves.” And if lawyers can't figure it out, they can call the Council. But according to Nijboer, few calls come in. In addition to the executive role, the Legal Aid Council also has a signaling function. When policies are negative, the Council warns the ministry. But then, according to Nijboer, “numerous investigations and commissions will have to be passed” before things move forward. “Then you're years later.” That is why the Council sometimes initiates temporary arrangements. The Council introduced such an arrangement four years ago after the benefits affair revealed that people could not contact social lawyers with their questions about the tax authorities' recoveries for years. They were deemed “self-reliant”. With this temporary arrangement, lawyers would still be able to help them for a fee. Several lawyers say they are not applying for the arrangement because of the “hassle”. It would take longer to apply for the scheme than it generates money. An evaluation report from the Board supports this. “I'm sorry,” says Irene Nijboer, “but a secretary can also make such a request.” At the same time, Nijboer warns. “If more money is not released, we expect real shortages. Major shortages. This means that the constitutional right to legal aid is at risk. “Successive cabinets put forward the Legal Counter as the solution. The shortage of legal protection should be made up for by that organization, among others. Currently, the Legal Counter has thirty branches and 22 office hours at external locations, and there are expansion plans. Requests for help increased by a quarter in the past year. “So we need to refer more people to a lawyer,” says Legal Counter director Willemijn van Helden. “And yes, that is becoming increasingly difficult.” Although the Legal Counter usually only advises, many employees indicate that it is sometimes necessary for them to “color outside the lines”. Then they still write letters and help the litigants with their forms. “Everyone has their limitations and limits, and I think we all have to go a little bit over those limits sometimes and it works really well,” says Van Helden.

While the last remaining social lawyers are working their butts off, the current Secretary of State for Legal Protection Teun Struycken (NSC) philosophizes out loud about burying the social advocacy.

“Examples, icons, maybe saints,” Struycken calls the profession in a speech in Nieuwspoort at the opening of a photo exhibition with portraits of social lawyers made by the Photographer of the Netherlands. The Secretary of State paints a picture of the altruistic social lawyer, who works out of kindness and love for the profession. Struycken makes no bones about his vision for the future of the profession. Against a professional magazine Mr. he has already said that clearly. “By the way, we also need to have the more fundamental debate with each other whether a lawyer should be able to make a full living from additions.” In the room, the Secretary of State says he finds the term “social advocacy” unnecessary, because, according to him, standing up for the vulnerable is the essence of the law. “The gap between social advocacy and commercial advocacy must be narrower,” he concludes at the end of his speech. “Away, if possible.”

About this research

For this study, we analyzed a dataset of thousands of social lawyers and nearly a thousand Legal Counters, law shops and other legal help points outside the four major cities. We noted opening hours, target groups and the type of help that is offered. Based on this, we made maps to see exactly where you can still knock on the door in the Netherlands if you collide with the government. The names of all interviewees are known to the editors.

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This article appeared in The Green Amsterdammer No. 11/2025

Read the annotated version of this story with a comprehensive account of the research

This is an investigation of the Green/Investico masterclass

This research was carried out by the 2024/2025 Masterclass by the Investico investigative journalism platform and The Green Amsterdammer. The Special Journalistic Projects Fund made a grant available to the participants of the Masterclass from the Expertise Promotion program.

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