Snack politics

In the run-up to the elections, apart from watching the political debates themselves, I mostly watched the talk shows in which the debates were discussed. And there was always a plate of snacks. They were beautifully arranged with grapes, crackers, cubes of cheese and here and there a dish of hummus. They were to make discussing stuff with each other easier. And you would think that it would be nice for the politicians that join as intense debates make you hungry.

Yet, something struck me. However inviting the plates looked, nobody ever touched them. The cheese stayed put, the grapes started wrinkling under the studio lights, and the hummus got those horrible crusts on the edge of the dish.

So I started wondering why the dishes were there in the first place. Was it to create a warmer image of party candidates joining at any time for a cold beer, glass of wine or a piece of brie? Or was it only to be the decor for democracy in a lifestyle programme? During the debates themselves there was no plate of snacks to be seen at all. They were probably not meant to be fun, or in any case, not give the appearance of being fun.

In my mind, while the guests were heading to their next chat show, I imagined how interns had to throw all those plates into the bin after every chat show. There would be new plates at the next chat show, just as beautifully arranged, only to be ignored again.

I would be interested in knowing who would go for which snack

To be honest, I would have cheered if they actually had eaten the snacks. Let the politicians take a piece of brie, an olive or burn their mouths on a bitterbal (deep fried snacks) while they talked about the climate or healthcare. Maybe we would think them more human. I would be interested in knowing who would go for which snack. I can just visualise it. Geert would make a beeline for the liver sausage, Dilan would chew a piece of cucumber with hummus, and Frans would carefully dip a chunk of mature cheese in mustard.

And while I imagined all those plates to slowly disappear on television, another thought struck me. Does the Executive Board also have a plate of snacks when they meet? Probably not. I can’t imagine their meetings to be the most enjoyable ones talking about economising, reorganisation and policy for hours on end. Who would enjoy that? Maybe a well-filled plate of snacks would do wonders.

Let’s expand on that idea. A meeting? A plate of snacks. A performance evaluation? A plate of snacks. A round of dismissals. A plate of snacks! Even a crisis meeting would be more bearable with a cracker, a chunk of cheese or a mini-gherkin on the table. It is supposed to ease the atmosphere and, who knows, it may even ease the decisions.

After all, we all want to make things more pleasant. A drink, a slice or piece of something, or a dish on the table and suddenly everything feels less bad. That may be the power of the plate of snacks. It may not solve anything, but it makes even the biggest troubles more digestible. But that said, the plates of snacks do have to fit in the budget.