Netherlands: If something is very broken, it is better to throw it away

 We are back in France, Cato and I. Here we want to try and visit a school with a special ULIS class for children with autism.

Spain is behind us. We have visited four wonderful organisations there and we were in Portugal for a short time to visit a very special project.

Before I tell you about all these wonderful encounters, I would like to tell you about the Netherlands today. Because although I started this trip with the intention of collecting beautiful ideas for our vulnerable children and being happy about it, there appears to be no escape from the misery.

One of my former students has been homeless for a year now and is living on the streets. When he turned 18, he was thrown out. Before that, he was an expensive child for the government. A child from a broken family, with autism, ADHD and unprocessed trauma. A family could easily live for a couple of years on the money that the care that was unleashed on him at the time cost.

He had an indication for sheltered housing, but when he turned eighteen, his problems became his own fault. From one day to the next, he became responsible for his own misfortune. Now he can sort it out himself on the street. Meanwhile, he is on drugs and the government wants nothing more to do with him.

This citizen of the Netherlands with multiple diagnoses and a sad youth, is without rights. He is welcome among the vagrants at the night shelter. But even for that, you have to get a pass first. There is no one to stand up for him.

Yes, of course, I did my best to speak up for him. After all, he was my student for two years. A boy with an great talent for music. Smart, sweet and enormously flawed. When he was thrown out on the street, our mission stopped too. We still tried to take care of him. The volunteers from Acato fed him all summer and kept the day care centre open so that he had somewhere to be during the day. At night, he wandered the streets, on Museumplein, where drugs are strewn about like smarties. I complained to the Ombudsman. It didn't make any impression. No, that's no news either.

I don't understand what I'm doing, what my job is. At Acato, we take in a handful of young people who have nowhere to go. They have not been put on the streets yet, because they have parents who can prevent that. They are with us for a while. That is it. And then? Where can they go, where can they live, are they welcome?

Why do we pay so much money to youth care if a person turns out to be worth nothing in the law that comes next?

What are we actually investing in? Are we investing in care to keep the care industry going or are we investing in the well-being of Dutch citizens and society?

How can we turn the tide? We can tell endless harrowing stories. It is never harrowing enough for the government. 'We don't go into individual cases', you are told. I told the Ministry about my beautiful student. Then you get a whole bunch of tips. What I could do to get the unwilling system they are part of moving. 'You can try the legal desk', they advised. Why do I have to go to the legal desk? You are the government! You must be shocked! You have to do something! That is what we pay you for!

The other day someone said to me: When something is really broken, you can't fix it. You have to throw it away. And start again.

Are we goin to throw away our broken children or our broken system? That is my question to you this week.

This week, I am going to try to put the beautiful experiences of the past weeks on paper without bitterness.

Salamanca, Badim, Tui Pontevedra, San Sebastian, I would have loved to stay in any of those places.