SQUATTING: The Anti-Anti-Kraaking Movement Of Amsterdam
September 25th, 2023
Illustration by Mari Managadze
It was an uncommonly sunny Wednesday for Amsterdam when I hopped on the tram towards my destination in De Pijp. I had no idea where I was going, only the address and the feeling that I would know it when I saw it. As I stepped off the tram and let Google Maps lead me through the groups of tourists onto the bustling Ferdinand Bolstraat, I found what I was looking for: a boarded-up, graffitied-over facade of a traditional Amsterdam “rijtjeshuis”, or terraced house. The entire board-covered window had been propped open so one could step in from the pavement, and so in the middle of this yuppie neighbourhood was an unlikely scene: a dusty, concrete floor, covered in various pieces of mismatched furniture, clothing racks, personal belongings… and young people, who were suddenly all peering at me. I scrambled over the raised windowsill, mumbled a quick, “hi, sorry I’m late” and found a spot on the floor.
It was not long before I became acquainted with everyone there. We sat in a circle holding cheap beers and cigarettes, listening to a squatter with wispy brown hair and a crocheted lighter holder around her neck tell us tips, legal advice, and some stories. As dusk fell, we went on an expedition for abandoned furniture, finding a lovely scarlet sofa that we hauled several blocks (to the bemusement of many onlookers).
"WE DON’T WANT YOUR YUPPIE FLATS WE ARE HAPPY WITH OUR RATS"
In the weeks following, I attended several other similar meetings at different squats, with different vibes and workshops, but this first foray into the anti-anti-kraak scene in Amsterdam is burned into my memory. For a long time, I speculated as to why exactly, but I realised while writing this that the image of anarchist squatters completely subverted my expectations of what I imagined De Pijp (and more broadly, Amsterdam proper) to be.
But why? Why was this image of Amsterdam even in my mind at all? After all, has Amsterdam not always been the “Mokum”, the “safe haven”, the place where freaks and weirdos were, if not accepted, at least tolerated?
The reality is far less idyllic. Squatters in Mokum have long waged a battle against an increasingly resistant government. The Amsterdam of the ‘60s to ‘80s, when its reputation for free, leftist ideologies was first forged, is long gone. The 2008 global financial crisis, and most recently the coronavirus and war in Ukraine spurred financial policies with big consequences. Turning to squatting may not be glamorous, but for desperate working-class people and students, it becomes the only option as rent prices remain astronomically high. Social spending cuts in the ‘90s brought about the doubling of homelessness since 2009, social housing waiting lists that are decades long, and a rise in rent/energy prices that does not correlate with a rise in wages. This is a turbulent time, and people in Amsterdam are struggling.
When I was faced with moving out, my friend Leo* was the one who introduced me to the world of squatting and anarchist action, who connected me to Amsterdammers in the community. “The Dutch prime minister and the mayor of Amsterdam are very anti-squatter, they’ve been cracking down on all the squatters pretty hard,” he noted upon our discussion of the topic. His sentiment on the Dutch government is shared across the country, with anti-government views being particularly tied to the ideology of many squatters. The Dutch government has cracked down on kraakers, going from more tolerant laws in the ‘70s to outright criminalisation of squatting in 2010. Nowadays it is more common to see expats and rich students milling about where once there was a thriving alternative movement. Is it anyone’s individual fault? Of course not, everyone needs a place to call home, and living near the areas you frequent will always be preferable over a long commute. Nevertheless, it is impossible to deny the effect that conservative fiscal policies, NIMBY-ism, and the overarching Dutch tradition of conformity has had on the former hippie culture in Amsterdam.
Uphold the spirit of Amsterdam that probably drew you to this city in the first place.
Reader, I know it is difficult, but we must also examine ourselves in this discussion. I stepped through that window into the squat as someone on the precipice of homelessness; I write this article now as someone who lives in the heart of the city. As an international student who came to Amsterdam last year, who has their parents’ support and does not speak Dutch (yet!), I often wonder how I contribute to the problem.
One day, I will graduate, land a job that hopefully supports me enough to live comfortably and continue my habitation in Amsterdam. Whether knowingly or out of ignorance, I and many others could become gentrifiers. To combat this, we should make it a personal conviction to connect with our neighbourhoods. Leo recommends to “attend protests for squatting and movements that champion alleviating the housing crisis … especially in the North [of Amsterdam].” Find local-led endeavours, community centres, squat hours, etc. and give something back to the people who belong alongside us in this beautiful mokum.
Uphold the spirit of Amsterdam that probably drew you to this city in the first place. Shop at local businesses, and diversify your tastes by experiencing all the cultural food and activities the immigrants in Amsterdam have to offer. This is not difficult and should be the minimum if we want to keep Amsterdam weird. The tourists, after all, will only keep coming.
