Kelly Uiterwijk
It started with a friend’s cat.
Ina lived in Wijk aan Zee, a few kilometers from the factory. One day she called: her cat had come home with a layer of shimmering dust on its fur. When Kelly Uiterwijk went to see for herself, she noticed that not just the cat, but the entire village was covered in a silvery haze. With the next rainfall, it was gone.
But the question remained where it had come from.
It turned out to be graphite rain.
Metal particles from the factory, visibly settled over gardens and playgrounds.
“That was the moment I thought: this isn’t right. This is what we’re breathing in.”
From that moment on, she was right in the middle of it.
As leader of the local party Vrij! in Beverwijk — and later as a member of the Provincial Council of North Holland — she has tried to bring one thing to the center: health. Not as a side note next to the economy or climate, but as the primary concern for residents who literally live under the smoke.
“The Tata file is passed from pillar to post and back again,” she says. “The municipality can advise, the province tests against regulations, the national government makes agreements under confidentiality. And in the meantime, people are breathing that air.”
She herself lives a few kilometers from the site. On her white balcony, she regularly wipes away a black film. On days when the wind is wrong, there is a smell of sulfur and metal.
In the council chamber, health was barely mentioned for a long time. It was about employment, about CO₂, about nitrogen — but not about the substances that settle in residential areas. It took years to shift that.
“We had to keep bringing it up.”
Slowly, things began to move. The municipality makes more frequent use of its advisory role in permitting. At the provincial level, she sees how applications are tested against legal standards. And that is where the tension lies.
“A factory from the 1960s is still being tested against the rules from back then. If Tata says something is technically not possible, then they don’t have to do it.”
Coke Plant 2 is the symbol of that system: outdated, leaking oven doors, high emissions of carcinogenic substances — and still not required to shut down. Tata promises closure in 2029, as part of the Green Steel plans.
“But now we’re already hearing 2032 again.
Each time, another year is added.”
The major decisions are not made in Beverwijk or Haarlem, but in The Hague.
“We receive the outcome, not the conversation.”
That sense of distance became tangible in 2022, when a public health report was published. In the first version, Tata Steel was explicitly named as a factor in the health situation around the factory. In the final version, the name had disappeared. Only “basic metals industry” remained.
Uiterwijk raised questions in the council. The alderman said he did not recall the earlier discussion of the report. Documents later obtained showed that he had in fact been present. After a suspension, he resigned that same evening.
“That moment wasn’t just about Tata,” she says. “It was about trust. About ourselves.”
The internal investigation provided no clear explanation. Who had removed the passages and why remained unclear. For her, it confirmed a broader vulnerability: if even a public health report becomes subject to doubt, what does that mean for residents’ trust?
Since then, she has seen the same pattern repeat itself. Investigations under confidentiality. Legal objections that drag on for years. Fines that are contested. In the courtroom, every measure is challenged; in communication, it is emphasized that they want to be a good neighbor.
“We are being held hostage by laws and regulations,” she says. “You want things to improve, but there’s almost no lever you can pull.”
Meanwhile, sentiment in the region is shifting. Where criticism was broadly rejected ten years ago, doubt is now growing. At the same time, fatigue is widespread.
“People know it’s unhealthy. They’ve seen the reports. But they’re worn down.
They think: nothing will happen anyway.”
She believes change is possible, but not automatic. The government must tighten the framework, she says, because companies operate within what is allowed.
“If you can comply with the law and still be a danger to health, then the law is wrong.”
For a moment, it is quiet.
“It could be so simple. Producing in a healthy way — everyone benefits from that: workers, residents, the company itself.”
She smiles briefly.
“Sometimes you have to celebrate the small steps. But I’m still waiting for that big breakthrough.”