Fireworks ban: less nuisance or bangs all year round?

It seems as though we cannot bear to let each other enjoy anything in the Netherlands anymore. As soon as winter approaches, the country turns into one giant wall of complaints. The biggest culprit? The sound of fireworks. Social media fill with furious messages: “My dog is trembling under the sofa!” or “My cat is scared to go outside!” And yes, animals are frightened by loud bangs. Nobody denies that. But when did mutual tolerance in this country become such a one-way street?

We collectively demand a total ban on those few days of fireworks tradition each year because they cause “nuisance”. Meanwhile, we are expected to smile and swallow the daily nuisance caused by those same complainers 365 days a year. What happened to “live and let live”?

The neighbourhood’s selective tolerance

Let’s reverse the roles. The neighbour who screams blue murder over a bang around New Year often considers it perfectly normal for his dog to bark across the whole neighbourhood for hours while he is out. We must accept the cat from across the road using our gardens as a public toilet, and regularly step in dog mess on the pavement because the duty to clean it up apparently amounts to a suggestion.

And what about the rest of everyday life? The neighbour drilling holes in a concrete wall at seven in the morning for three months for his new extension. The drone of lawnmowers on a sunny Sunday morning when you want to sleep in. The bass from a garden party further down the street that continues deep into the night. That is “normal”, because “you have to give each other some room in a neighbourhood”. Apparently that generosity applies to everything except someone else’s one traditional festive evening.

The psychology of “it’s already banned anyway”

Policymakers in The Hague also overlook a major psychological principle: when you ban something completely, you erode the willingness to follow the remaining rules. The anti-fireworks lobby thought a consumer fireworks ban would buy peace. In reality, they have opened Pandora’s box. Why would a fireworks enthusiast politely wait until 31 December if setting them off that day is just as illegal as on any Tuesday evening in April?

Until recently, the overwhelming majority of fireworks users followed an unwritten social code: save your beautiful display fireworks for New Year’s Eve. That was the deal with the neighbourhood. There was a clear boundary. But the ban has completely erased it. The psychological barrier to setting off fireworks in October, February or the middle of summer has disappeared. The reasoning becomes simple: “If I get caught, I’m in trouble either way. So why wait until New Year?” The “who cares” effect kicks in. The nuisance does not decrease; it quietly spreads across 365 days of the year.

Heavier illegal fireworks and a powerless police force

The nature of the fireworks also changes. Because consumers can no longer buy legal decorative fireworks in Dutch shops, they are driven straight into the arms of the illegal foreign market. Instead of regulated firework cakes with relatively moderate reports, people now get heavy, dangerous explosive fireworks from abroad. The disturbance to dogs and cats, supposedly the whole point of the complaints, becomes many times worse. Instead of a pleasant display on 31 December, the neighbourhood now faces unpredictable illegal “bombs” that rattle windows throughout the year.

And who will enforce the rules against those 365 days of scattered nuisance? The answer is painfully clear: nobody. Police unions and chiefs are clear that the police simply lack the people and capacity. Fireworks enforcement is not a priority. The police can barely handle ordinary crime already and openly admit they only respond to major excesses and public disorder. If you call in March because a mortar is being fired three streets away, you already know nobody will come. The offender will have disappeared long before the patrol car even starts.

Conclusion: law-abiding citizens pay while criminals laugh

A society remains liveable only if we accept that other people sometimes do things we dislike. That means fireworks enthusiasts must consider their surroundings and not terrorise the neighbourhood weeks beforehand. But it also means the rest of the neighbourhood accepting bangs on one evening a year.

The fireworks ban is a textbook example of poorly considered symbolic politics that punishes only the law-abiding citizen. Troublemakers have been given free rein. Complainers hoping for a quiet New Year’s Eve can prepare for a whole year of unpredictable gunpowder smoke. Let’s stop this chronic nannying and give each other a little space again. A fireworks ban solves nothing — it simply makes our country a little less welcoming.