Presentator, Journalist
In 2015, we decided to revive an old tradition in the presentation of the returning Brandpunt: the closing joke. Since the 1960s, it had always preceded the iconic sign-off: “This was Brandpunt, good evening.” That tradition would unexpectedly become my downfall.
In the closer, I referred to Jesse Klaver of GroenLinks as “a snot-nosed kid.” The politician had lectured bankers in a parliamentary session with the words: “I'm glad I don't live in your universe.” I have no sympathy for bankers, but neither do I appreciate the Kremlin-style vilification of this admittedly controversial profession. “The snot-nosed kid.” Though I said it a little too seriously—it was meant as a joke.
All hell broke loose. “The Snotneus Affair.” Spurred on by social media, the country had by then turned into an anonymous firing squad—far more vicious than in the brash pioneering days of the original Brandpunt.
It was “revealed” that two years earlier I had chaired a conference at ABN-AMRO. That had been a strictly journalistic engagement tied to the release of the national budget. The implication now: I was no better than the greedy bankers myself.
Of course, opinions may differ on whether journalists should be allowed to do external conference work. But as an independent moderator, I have a clear conscience. At the time, I had formal written approval from KRO management to accept such assignments.
In fact, when KRO director Rijssemus asked me in 2010 to become a leading anchor in the reboot of Brandpunt, he had agreed—contractually—that I could continue my conference work, provided I informed the broadcaster in advance. And that is exactly what I did.
But when push came to shove, those agreements turned out to be softer than melting butter. KRO director Rijssemus and interim head of current affairs Leo Feijen acted like cowards. Without my knowledge, a press release was issued announcing an investigation into my ethical conduct. The entire country joined in on social media. It was like rubbing an oil stain.
I decided to leave Brandpunt. I demanded that a new press release make clear there was no doubt about my integrity, and that I would focus on documentary filmmaking. That happened. But despite understanding the questions surrounding journalistic side income, I felt betrayed. No agreement holds up against trembling knees.
Journalism is not a profession for the faint of heart. Apparently, running a broadcaster is.
I witnessed the hypocrisy of the broadcasting world. Many colleagues from nearly every broadcaster in the country act as moderators at events. Booking agencies told me that several of my peers suddenly had themselves removed from their websites. I did receive public support from Frits Wester, who openly expressed disbelief at the whole affair.
Jeroen Smit, an excellent journalist and author of the standard work De Prooi (about the troubles at ABN-AMRO), said he was happy to be paid to appear at many events—and that it enabled him to fund and find time for his research. His view: a journalist with integrity can, in principle, practice journalism anywhere. A compelling argument.
I’m often asked: how is it possible that a joke about Jesse Klaver cost you so dearly? I think it had something to do with the fact that it happened during a very difficult period in my private life. I simply didn’t feel strong enough.
In hindsight, I should of course have made my KRO contract public during the media storm. I also should’ve mentioned that, as was customary, I had submitted all scripts for the broadcast in advance—including the Jesse Klaver joke—to interim news chief Feijen. He raised no objections. The Snotneus Affair. I regret letting it happen to me.
For Brandpunt, I had risked my life multiple times in conflict zones. I led major editorial teams with the highest ideals and incredible dedication. I was the face of bold broadcasts—ones that sometimes cut into our own flesh. The Reporter episode about CDA leader Elco Brinkman led to thousands of subscription cancellations at KRO the very same night. That wasn’t the goal, but rather “collateral damage” from a painful yet fair revelation.
In short, I’ve faced far greater fires than a silly joke about Jesse Klaver. But back then, KRO was still led by braver people—people with a heart for journalism and for the vulnerabilities of those who practice it. I was devastated. But also: unbreakable, I decided deep within. Even if I had to scrape the energy off the floor, I would make documentaries.
A season and a half later, Brandpunt was cancelled.