Neoliberal urban policy: antisquatting haunts squatters in the Netherlands
(this illustration is © Max Andersson and Lars Sjunnesson)
At first sight, squatting as a political and cultural practice is not as radical in the Netherlands as it is elsewhere – this is, after all, one of those rare places where squatting is largely legal. Until recently, all a squatter would need when s/he entered an empty house was a chair, a table and a bed. Not any more: Nowadays squatters have to prove that the house/place they entered has been vacant for a year; they also need to have a good knowledge of legal matters and so, squatting demands a thorough and long-term planning. Squatters have to deal with law much more than they used to. In shark contrast to this reality, the ‘80s were the golden years of squatting ((For a detailed account of those years – see Adilkno’s “Cracking the Movement”, 1994, Autonomedia)), when a truly strong and substantial movement of squatters emerged. In Amsterdam only, this movement numbered twenty thousand activists. At the end of the eighties city authorities launched systematic operations against squatters. They used what were to become typical techniques: they would either criminalise the squatters – (the owner was given the right to anonymously sue them), or they would attempt a recuperation of the squat: Local authorities would enable squatters to use the space but they would have them sign the papers and slowly start paying a “symbolic” rent. Criminalisation and legal re-integration seemed to be the two central techniques of urban authorities.
Many squatted places across the Netherlands have managed to survive this two-edged attack. It is true that the majority of these squats is residential, yet some strongholds remain, organising substantial political and cultural activities: film screenings, “food not bombs”, alternative public kitchen, concerts, sport activities, organizing exhibitions and of course, political events, which comprise of assemblies and organisation of different political actions. The “golden 80s” squatters’ movement has nearly been swept away, now reduced to around 1000 people according to estimates coming from the squatters themselves. Merijn Oudenampsen, a squatter and an urban researcher summed up the difficult situation nicely: “Maybe our case is typical of present day Dutch squatting: we are a small living community of four, not strong enough to organise a political campaign around our house and isolated from the gentrified neighbourhood that we live in. The frontline of the battle over the house is no longer situated in the streets, but in court – through a formulaic process of legal conflict over technical and building procedures. In court, there’s a small chance we will win some time.Yet, in the months to come, we are bound to lose. We will have to move (and the process will repeat itself ).” ((See http://www.flexmens.org/drupal/?q=A_Short_History_of_Kraken))
These legal conflicts still explode to street battles, as happened last year, when the squatters witnessed – and attempted to resist – a wave of evictions. The battle’s climax was reached on the March 13th 2007; just on this one day, seven squats were evicted ((see also http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INqeWv_xMiQ&feature=related)). The major problem of the squatting scene is its fragmentation and very poor mobilization for the defense of the autonomous spaces.
In order for the authorities to successfully fight against autonomous spaces all types of ammunition are used: from criminalisation and repressive methods to media campaigns and legal integrations. Yet the most effective and subtle weapon of anti-squatting struggle was invented already in the late 80s and is sadly experiencing a boom nowadays. Its inventors named it antis-quatting (anikraak). The foundation for this economic practice was the change in the Housing Act (1988). The latter signaled the beginning of privatisation of social housing and simultaneously opened a way to private market of real estate.
The Netherlands witnessed a radical split on public social housing and a new private market. A special task in this process was assigned to antisquatter enterprises. So how do these antisquats work? First, these enterprises receive spaces in their management. They mainly manage emptied or ruined buildings or factories that are awaiting renovation or destruction. So-called “watchmen” move in and start living in these premises: their function is to watch out these spaces, in other words to prevent any squatting or trespassing. Then, the remaining spaces are sublet. Frequently, antisquatters are youth and artists: A monthly rent for the antisquat amounts to approximately one hundred and fifty euros.
It is true that antisquats are located quite far away from the centre and in a bad shape, yet to get an apartment in Amsterdam is a very troublesome task… And when one finally gets an apartment, one often finds himself in illegal situation (i.e. without a contract) and paying a lot of money (one room might easily cost around five hundred euros). Despite the supposed social function of antisquatter enterprises (cheap rent), they are driven by a cold economic calculation. This calculation is guided by two basic goals: Firstly, antisquatting (as the name obviously suggests) aims at preventing the squatting of spaces and secondly, these enterprises guarantee the normal flow of financial speculations and investments.
Owners can speculate and wait up until real investors appear; once that happens the transaction is executed as fast as possible. But what about the antisquatters living in these spaces? Simple enough: enterprises can kick out these renters, the antiquatters, in no time – simply on a one, or two-weeks notice. Antisquatters and enterprises sign the contract where they agree to abandon all renters’ rights. Voluntary servitude revisited! Thus they become flexible renters: Today it is not only workers conditions that are precarious and flexible; this flexible condition gets displaced and colonises living conditions in general. This is the famous dimension of the socialization of capital – its capability is precisely to permeate all spheres of social life, not just the one of labour.
Least but not last, we have to take into account the accessibility of antisquats. The applicant needs to be registered and to have a Dutch tax number. Right from this point all “illegal” and temporary migrants are excluded from the realm of contract. Besides this formal condition, applicants usually have to know someone already living in an antisquat since, in order to get an invitation an applicant would need to be recommended by an antisquatter. So, a personal guarantee that applicant is a trustworthy person is necessitated. This type of control is even clearer if we take into account the rules of living. If an antisquatter organises a party in the antisquat and the police arrive at the scene (e.g. too loud music) the antisquatter can be kicked out of the apartment immediately. And not just that – the person who recommended them in the first place would also get kicked out of the antisquat! Rigid control of life and flexible conditions of rent go hand in hand in Dutch antisquats… and this is no insignificant part of the population we are talking about here: today, there are more than 10 thousand antisquatters in the Netherlands. The tables have turned: it is the avant-garde of antisquatters that is setting the different form of living and not the squatters, who are, together with public housing, in a complete defensive. The disruption of order is thus exerted from the site of the dominant class.
The current development reproduces and strengthens the ways of domnation and exploitation. It is easy to see that innovators and urban planners had a good sense in picking up the conceptual name to their economic-political practice. Even though it is neologistic, it signifies a complete negation of life and politics of autonomous spaces.
This subtle neoliberal management (urban struggle) is not a phenomenon limited to the Netherlands – it has been exported to the UK and other “developed” countries. The antisquatting recipe is integral in the function of the neoliberal agenda that privatises and commercialises urban space; a recipe that conceives the city as a commodity and not as a people’s right.
