In Memory of Lily Sprangers (1956-2024)
An obituary by Florian Schneider
My colleagues and I at the Leiden Asia Centre, and at Leiden University, have been deeply saddened by the news that our good colleague and friend Lily Sprangers passed away on 29 October 2024.
Lily has left a lasting mark on Dutch politics and civil society. A staunch defender of intercultural exchange and understanding, Lily was at the forefront of Dutch cultural and diplomatic outreach. In the 1990s, she ran the Atlantic Commission, an NGO dedicated to transatlantic cooperation. She went on to help found the German Institute in 1996, which she would direct for over a decade. In 2001, this tireless work in the service of Dutch-German relations would earn her the ‘Bundesverdienstkreuz’, Germany’s Order of Merit.
After these successes, Lily was looking for new challenges, and so her work took her to Asia: she co-founded and then direct the Turkish Institute in 2007, managed Leiden University’s Leiden Global initiative in 2014, and finally concluded her career by managing the Leiden Asia Centre (LAC) from 2015 until her retirement. In all these positions, Lily distinguished herself through compassion and humility: I recall many occasions when Lily would preface her thoughts on Asia with the disclaimer that she knew little about the region, insisting that she was no expert, only to go on and offer profound, thoughtful insights that would push our projects in new directions. Motivated by the sense that Dutch (and European) biases about Asia were getting in the way of solving the problems of the 21st century, Lily took it as her mission to rectify prejudices, bring people together, and add nuance to often heated debates. In times when many prefer to build walls, Lily was building bridges. It then also came as no surprise that, after her retirement, she was appointed Officer in the Order of Orange-Nassau, an honour that acknowledges ‘acts of special merits for society’.
Working with Lily at the LAC, I came to know her as a contagiously energetic and humorous Amsterdammer, a true force of nature. Lily was fierce and courageous, outspoken about her views on life, the universe, and everything, and she did not mince words. I can imagine that some may have interpreted her directness as brusqueness, rather than as what it truly was: a sign of deep respect. Lily took the people she met seriously. It did not matter whether she was dealing with students or foreign diplomats, champions of industry to university support staff, Lily treated everyone with the same good humour and honesty. With Lily, what you saw was what you got.
Lily’s passion followed her to everything she touched. Except for bureaucracy, that is unless we count her impassioned dislike for any form of pencil pushing. I vividly recall us trying to make sense of European Research Council schemes, and her throwing up her hands in dismay. ‘Jesus’, she would proclaim, followed by a tirade against arcane procedures in academia. Lily’s forte lay elsewhere: in board rooms, at public events, in corridors of decision-making, at receptions and luncheons and dinners. Her impressive network of colleagues and friends was so vast, I sometimes wondered if she simply knew everyone. Indeed, I’ve rarely met anyone who had such a way with people. To our staff at the LAC, she was more than a manager. She was a mentor, a confidant, and a trusted friend. She was the centre’s heart.
At Lily’s wake, on 4 November, her impact on the lives she touched was on full display. Here were people from all walks of life, across generations and cultures, celebrating the life of this powerful woman and dear friend. The crowd was so large, it could barely fit into the auditorium. Listening to the accounts of Lily’s life, and to the many anecdotes of the often-hilarious shenanigans she had gotten up to over the years, left me with a profound sense of gratitude that Lily was part of my life, and of the Leiden Asia Centre. She was, and remains, unforgettable. My colleagues and I will miss her dearly.
