Amsterdam is known around the world for its singular canal row houses, those narrow gingerbread creations, instantly recognizable gems of well-ordered Dutch whimsy.
But in Europe, the Netherlands are associated with more than just whimsical architecture, and with more even than bicycles, windmills, clogs, or tulips. Amsterdam’s relationship with its European neighbors has been marked for years now by persistent uncharitable finger-wagging. Now it seems the Dutch would have done well to spend some of that time getting their own house(s) in order. For Amsterdam, you see, is sinking.
A fascinating (if distressing) article published yesterday in CNN’s travel section gives a rundown of the crumbling reality:
Cracks and sinkholes are appearing alongside the waterways of Amsterdam.
Bicycles are tumbling into the swirling water as the canalsides vanish beneath their wheels.
Quay walls are collapsing against houseboats. Bridges are in trouble.
Built, perhaps unwisely, on reclaimed marshland, Amsterdam’s infrastructure was originally erected atop wooden pilings, which were strong enough for the horses and buggies of the time. Later, some of the wood was swapped out for concrete. But as cars and heavy trucks replaced more lightweight modes of transportation, and as the remaining wood continued to rot, the city began to crack and tilt. These tilting or crooked houses, as they have come to be known, have become a tourist attraction in their own right. But what was originally looked on as an interesting quirk of the Dutch city has more recently morphed into a glaring example of oversight in urban planning.
Fortunately for the city, its tourists, and those still dreaming of visiting it one day, some new officials have finally begun to take the problem seriously. They seem genuinely dedicated to taking on what Alderwoman in charge of traffic and transportation Sharon Dijksma describes as a “complex, large, and urgent task.”
The trouble is, the time for an ounce of prevention has long passed, so Amsterdam now has no choice but to shell out for a pound of cure. And that cure is projected to cost almost half a billion euros (more than half a billion dollars).
Do they plan on asking the European Union for assistance in funding these repairs? If so, let’s hope they like humble pie . . .
Let’s take a step back.
We all remember the 2008 financial crisis, right? In Europe, it was known simply as “the crisis,” because its effects were so extreme and all-pervading that there was no danger of confusing the unqualified crisis with anything else. Other, lesser crises could find more specific names to distinguish themselves.
Now, most economists in the world would agree that a recession is no time for governments or central banks to be tightening pursestrings. But as a vocal member of the so-called “Frugal Four”—an informal alliance comprising Austria, Denmark, the Netherlands, and Sweden—the Netherlands led the charge in favor of European austerity, lobbying—successfully—for a severe limiting of bailout funds for the harder-hit Southern European countries, and a bevy of onerous conditions on the meager financial aid that was granted.
With Calvinistic condescension, the Four, together with Germany, dispensed their brand of tough love—more rightly viewed as thinly veiled cruelty—across the continent, and many countries suffered unnecessarily slow and painful recovery processes as a result. But none were so badly affected as Greece, where the EU’s willingness to go along with the northern countries’ punitive “aid” plans prompted a new, second crisis—a sovereign debt crisis of epic proportions from which the Hellenic Republic has still not fully emerged.
They could have planned better, went the Frugal Four’s criticism. Should have kept their financial affairs in better order. Should have anticipated the global financial crisis. Should have somehow preempted the tricky demographic trends that are plaguing a large portion of the developed world.
Because why help others when you can chastise?
This particular model of European “union” is evidently more about superiority than solidarity . . .
Now the Four are at it again, training their supercilious sights on those EU member states most sharply affected by Covid-19. The Netherlands has been pushing hard for the Union to eschew urgent financial grants for countries like France, Italy, and Spain where the virus has wreaked the most havoc in favor—yet again—of loans with strict conditions. Once more, in a time of crisis, the Dutch seek to extend not a helping hand, but a closed fist.
Admirably, and not a little surprisingly, one country—Germany—has walked back its previous inflexibility and is now standing with France, Spain, and others in support of a more generous coronavirus relief package.
Will the Netherlands follow Germany’s more humane lead and decide to open its heart (and fist) to its neighbors in a time of need? Will they, in their own time of need, be met with beneficence, or merely with reciprocity?
As “the most Calvinist nation in the world,” a nation of “preachers and salesmen,” the Netherlands at times even turns its impulse to financial fault-finding against itself. Take the children’s song, quoted in the same CNN article cited above:
The city's children grow up with a verse: "Amsterdam, die grote stad / Die is gebouwd op palen / Als die stad eens ommeviel / Wie zou dat dan betalen?
Loosely translated: "Amsterdam, big city / It is built on piles / If the city would collapse / Who would pay for that?"
The city is now collapsing -- and the Dutch are paying.
Now, for my part, I would hardly see Amsterdam chided, even as they are so quick to chide others. Whatever short-term satisfaction that might bring, I’m more of the “an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” persuasion. Just because the Netherlands may not have taken the golden rule to heart doesn’t mean the rest of us should abandon the wisdom of doing unto others as we would have done unto us. Put in the more contemporary terms popularized by the gospel according to Michelle Obama, “when they go low, we go high.” I believe this.
That said, CNN Travel hit it on the head, rightly pointing out that “Amsterdam's day of reckoning shouldn't really have come as a surprise.” They could have planned better.
So where does that leave us?
It is my hope being confronted with the destructive yet avoidable effects of their own procrastination will remind the Dutch that to err is human. And that we are all of us—even the Dutch—merely human.
