**IMISCOE Research Series**

Peter Scholten · Maurice Crul Paul van de Laar *Editors*

# Coming to Terms with Superdiversity The Case of Rotterdam

**IMISCOE Research Series**

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Peter Scholten • Maurice Crul • Paul van de Laar Editors

## Coming to Terms with Superdiversity

The Case of Rotterdam

*Editors* Peter Scholten Erasmus University Rotterdam Rotterdam, The Netherlands

Paul van de Laar Erasmus School of History Culture and Communication Rotterdam, The Netherlands

Maurice Crul Free University Amsterdam Amsterdam, The Netherlands

ISSN 2364-4087 ISSN 2364-4095 (electronic) IMISCOE Research Series ISBN 978-3-319-96040-1 ISBN 978-3-319-96041-8 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-96041-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018961416

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## **Contents**



### **Chapter 1 Introduction**

**Peter Scholten, Maurice Crul, and Paul van de Laar**

Migration-related diversity manifests itself primarily in cities. Cities are usually the primary points of entry for new migrants and often the first places where integration in society starts. Many cities have experienced centuries of immigration and consider migration as a core element of their identity (such as New York and Amsterdam). In an increasing number of Western European cities, even more than half of the population has a migration background. These cities are referred to as 'majority-minority' cities. In Europe, this is already true for cities like Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Brussels or Malmö and substantial parts of greater London, Frankfurt or Paris. Of the children under the age of fifteen in Amsterdam and Rotterdam only one third is still of Dutch descent (Crul 2016).

Cities are in the forefront of an ongoing global process of growing mobility and diversity of populations. Although migration to cities is in itself certainly not a new phenomenon, the process of globalization in combination with the availability of faster and cheaper transport, stimulated the movement of more people, at a greater frequency and over larger distances. Cities are often the central hubs in such migration networks. Therefore, diversity within these cities not only increases but also becomes more complex. What is often referred to as 'diversification of diversity

P. Scholten (\*)

Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: p.w.a.scholten@fsw.eur.nl

#### P. van de Laar Erasmus School of History Culture and Communication, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: vandelaar@eshcc.eur.nl

M. Crul Free University Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: m.r.j.crul@vu.nl

(Hollinger 2006) relates to the diversification of the number of migrant groups but also the diversification within these groups. Group differences tend to grow over time between generations and amongst members of the second and third generation (Crul 2016). Compared to other countries, the socio-economic polarization amongst members of the second generation in the Netherlands has increased. A large group has experienced steep upward mobility, but on the other hand, an equally large group is lagging behind. Its offspring might run the risk of being worse off than their parents (Crul et al. 2013). Differences related to gender, generation, religion add to the complexities of people living together in large cities.

Sociologists have described this growing complexity of diversity as 'superdiversity'; a situation in which diversity itself has become so 'diverse' that one can no longer speak of clear majorities or minorities (Vertovec 2007; Meissner 2015; Crul 2016). In this situation, the idea of who belongs to the established groups and who are the newcomers in the city also needs to be questioned. In a city like Amsterdam, the total number of people of Dutch descent that moves in and out of the city during a 10 years' time-interval equals the entire population of Dutch descent in the city. They arrive at Amsterdam for study or work but decide to leave the city again once they have children. Migrants and their offspring, on the other hand, are overall very loyal to the city. Increasingly they have become real city dwellers.

The fact that more and more cities became majority-minority cities also has important consequences for how the process of assimilation and integration takes place. In many cases, the children of newly arrived immigrants grow up in neighbourhoods and go to schools where children of native Dutch descent are only a small minority. This means that they no longer integrate into a majority group any more on a day-to-day basis but into diverse migrant communities. What this means for assimilation programs pushed by majority groups and how these newly arrived children respond to these top-down city-government driven programs, is an important new empirical question.

Much research regarding city responses to the developments outlined above have focused on global cities using a so-called 'global cities perspective' (Glick Schiller and Çağlar 2009). This mainly includes cities that are of exceptional importance within global networks (economic, cultural and social) and thus important global migration centres. Take for instance Sassen's key-reference work on 'Global Cities' (2000), the work of Keith on London (2005) and the recent work by Foner a.o. comparing the migration experiences of New York and Amsterdam (Foner a.o. 2015).

However, as Glick-Schiller and Çağlar (2009, 2011) observe, our understanding of such 'exceptional' global cities adds little to our understanding of how cities in general respond to superdiversity. Indeed, various scholars (Crul and Mollenkopf 2012; Zapata Barrero et al. 2017; Alexander 2007) have already highlighted the sharp differences that may manifest itself between cities. Superdiverse cities like Marseille, Liverpool, Malmö and Rotterdam tend to respond very differently to superdiversity than for instance New York. Alexander (2007) show us very different

policy models emerging in cities with divergent social, economic, cultural and historic settings. Crul et al. (2013) stress that a situation of superdiversity potentially can develop into two scenarios: a positive but also a negative one. Depending on the political climate and the possibilities of social mobility for the second and third generation, a positive scenario of hope and empowerment can develop, but also a negative scenario of fear, feeling of resentment and humiliation. Glick-Schiller and Çağlar (2009, 2011) relate variations in the 'locality' of migration to the different positioning of cities within the global process of neoliberal restructuring. Some cities are well connected and on top of the economic hierarchy within such neoliberal networks (top- and up-scale cities) whereas others may be slow to respond to neoliberal restructuring and cut-off from benefits from global economic networks (down- and low-scale cities). In their perspective, cities like London, Amsterdam and New York are all positioned amongst the top-scale cities, but these case studies contribute very little to our understanding of for instance downscale cities.

This book takes the world port city of Rotterdam as a case study of a city that is trying to come to terms with superdiversity. Rotterdam is not a 'global city' like New York, but it does occupy a central place in a global logistical chain, leading to global networks of social and economic exchanges that have shaped the city in many ways, including by means of migration and diversity. Over the past centuries, Rotterdam has received many different types of migrants. However, its responses to diversity do not seem to seem to match those that we know from the literature on global cities. Rotterdam in many ways does not appear to be a 'happy' superdiverse city. However, today as well as in the past, migration and diversity have, besides positive influences and responses that were also clearly there, also met with friction and contestation, in a political sense as well as in an economic and social sense. Take the ethnic riots in the south of Rotterdam in the 1970s, the coming into power of a local populist party in the 2000s and the ongoing friction between local deprived native and migrant groups.

Therefore, this book tries to learn from the case study of Rotterdam as a superdiverse city that does not fit into the global cities type. At a very basic level, the book asks the question 'what is the matter with Rotterdam' (see also the epilogue to the book by Steve Vertovec)? How does superdiversity manifest itself in this type of 'second' cities, how does it affect urban life? What are the major differences between today's superdiversity and migration patterns in the past? How superdiversity together with public and political contestation of superdiversity did frame policies and governance strategies in Rotterdam? What makes Rotterdam's superdiversity different from Amsterdam and how can different responses to superdiversity be explained? To this aim, this book brings together state of the art research on different facets of Rotterdam's struggle to come to terms with the reality of superdiversity. The contributions in this book focus on interdisciplinary aspects of superdiversity (including history, public administration, and sociology) and by doing so hopes to contribute to new narratives of Rotterdam as a city of migration.

#### **1.1 Superdiversity: Origins and Implications**

The concept of superdiversity (Vertovec 2007; Crul 2016) speaks to a dual transformation that societies all over the world are experiencing. First, not only the scale but also the character of mobility is changing. In the context of globalization and technological advancements, people are more mobile than ever in history. Notwithstanding the fact that migrations have been a central element throughout global history, absolute numbers are higher than ever, people move over greater distances and more frequent than before during their lives. Some scholars have referred to this transition in terms of 'liquid mobility' or the growing manifestation of 'floating populations' (Engbersen 2016). Secondly, because of migration, diversity has been increasing significantly. This involves not only the accumulation of different migrant groups over time, but also diversification along many other dimensions over different migrant generations (such as religion, socio-economic status, languages, etc.). A national perspective blurs the fact that there is a broad variety of ethnic, cultural and religious orientations amongst migrants having the same passport as well as significant differences in migration channels, migration motives, languages, social-economic positions and legal implications (Vertovec 2007). In such settings, it is very difficult to continue referring to migrant groups or communities, as ethnic, cultural or racial characteristics are only part of their identities.

To describe this type of diversity in majority-minority cities like Rotterdam we argue that existing assimilation and integration theories are no longer adequate. For our purposes, we adopt the concept superdiversity, as introduced by Vertovec in his seminal article of 2007. It took some time for researchers in social sciences in Europe started to embrace the concept in their researches. In the last decade, however, an increasing number of researchers use the concept to describe processes in large cities where superdiversity has become reality or will develop into superdiverse cities. The concept is, however, also widely criticized and debated. Several American scholars have questioned the benefits of superdiversity in relation to existing theories on diversity and assimilation. What is in other words 'super' about superdiversity? This is an important and relevant question. Crul has argued that diversity in migration and ethnic studies is often only perceived as ethnic diversity. Others have criticized this as the 'ethnic lens' (Hollinger 2006; Glick Schiller and Çağlar 2009). The concept of superdiversity stresses other important dimensions like gender, education, social status, generation or religion in order to explain processes of mobility or exclusion.

The other major critique is about the vagueness of the term, a point that cannot be disregarded. The concept of superdiversity should not be used in all situations where a certain degree of diversity is found. Existing integration and assimilation models should be applied in those cases where there is numerically a clear majority group and only a limited number of migrant groups. However, when people of native descent have become part of a minority group outnumbered by many different migrant groups, the concept of superdiversity may provide a better analytical tool to study processes of integration and social mobility. According to Meissner

(2015) superdiversity also means acceptation diversity as a new reality. A reality that largely replaces the situation where newcomers integrate into a clear dominant native culture or majority society. In this new reality, we also need to investigate the integration of people of native descent. As one of the articles in this volume shows, the successful or unsuccessful integration of people of native descent in superdiverse city and neighbourhood environments differs across cities and neighbourhoods. This type of research shows that existing assimilation and integration theories have reached the limits and are unable to deal with complexities of superdiverse contexts and environments.

The concept of superdiversity has also been used to look at group differences, something mainstream theories of assimilation have largely neglected. It helps us to identify and understand the importance of other background characteristics but also by incorporating the importance of specific local or national contexts to explain differences within ethnic groups. This does not mean that the concept term of superdiversity is already a full-fleshed theoretical model comparable with for instance segmented assimilation theories. Empirical research through the lens of superdiversity, however, can help us to develop our understanding of processes of mobility, identification and belonging in situations characterised by superdiversity. It will help to advance the concept both empirically and theoretically.

An important theoretical position we take in this book is that superdiverse cities and neighbourhoods do not necessarily lead to positive outcomes. 'Super' in superdiversity, as many before us have explained, does not mean fantastic. Super refers to forms of complexities on top of the complexities related to migration. This means that an important question is under which conditions superdiverse cities and neighbourhoods create positive outcomes and which conditions result in negative outcomes. These outcomes are not restricted to migrants and their descendants, but also affects the old majority group of native descent. The rise in anti-immigrant parties has made it clear that this group also needs to be studied if we want to have a thorough understanding of the processes of integration. Wessendorf (2014) studied the superdiverse neighbourhood Hackney in London and used the term 'common place diversity'. She argues that understudied is the extent to which people usually share public places without major conflicts, because they accept the common day reality of diversity and have learned finding their way. However, this does not necessary imply intensive interactions between people of different ethnic groups or regular contacts leading to more intimate friendships.

The sociological literature on superdiversity has advanced substantially in defining the concept, describing situations of superdiversity and map some of its implications. However, little progress has been made in terms of understanding how societies can respond to superdiversity. What type of policies would fit situations of superdiversity? How to understand the contested politics around superdiversity, especially since multiculturalism has suffered a considerable backlash (Vertovec and Wessendorf 2010).

Only few studies have looked at how superdiversity manifests itself across different (social, cultural, political, economic) settings? Here, once again, we have to reiterate Glick-Schiller and Çağlar's (2009) warning that most of our understanding of superdiversity seems to be shaped by studies of so-called 'global cities'. How does it manifest itself in other types of cities, such as cities with a very specific political climate, or cities detached from global economic trade relations, or Jerome Hodos' (2011) typology of 'second cities'? Here we can draw lessons from the socalled complexity literature in social sciences, which sometimes leads to using theoretical notions that help understand complex social realities as notions that supposedly describe actual social realities and thus reduce precisely the complexity that we seek to understand. Superdiversity is likely to manifest itself in many different ways in many different settings.

Finally, a historical perspective is an integral part of this book and helps us to question the novelty of superdiversity as part of a process of globalization. In popular writings about the effect of globalization, the idea is pushed forward that twentyfirst century's integration of global trade, commerce, foreign direct investments, political interdependencies and international migration have not been witnessed before in history. However, critical globalization studies have stimulated scholarly debates on the "newness" of global processes of integration, in particular the role of international migration. Nevertheless, a cross-fertilisation between international migration studies and globalization are rare and often lack a historical dimension (Chinchilla 2005). Migration history is global history and few scholars on globalization would deny that human history started with migration. Globalisation from a migration perspective, may be not a new phenomenon, historians will acknowledge that historical globalization is not a linear process, but marked by disruptive and often contradicting developments (for a discussion see Antunes and Fatah-Black 2016). Historians – and migration historians in particular – are therefore looking for the historical events and consequences of globalization on a local level by comparing pre-modern, modern and post-modern patterns of migration. Migration pushed cities into global networks linking Europe to other parts of the world centuries ago (Lees and Hollen Lees 2013).

Historians of migrations are, normally, sceptical about sociologists labelling new trends without recognising historical parallels. Leo Lucassen's *The Immigrant threat* (2005) questions the assumptions being made about the fundamental differences between the integration of present day migrant groups and those in the past. His comparative research on West-European's old and new migrants can be read as a cogent and convincing case for studying migration patterns in a long-term historical perspective. We therefore took the historical angle on board to enrich our knowledge on how migration has shaped Rotterdam. Does superdiversity describe a social situation that is actually historically new, or can one say that some cities (or countries) have been superdiverse for a long time, or rather have been superdiverse in some time but not in others? The historical introduction in this volume suggest that Rotterdam's pre-industrial society has been more superdiverse than the industrial era, showing the relevance of historical studies in this debate.

#### **1.2 The Local Turn in Migration Studies**

Scholars mostly agree that superdiversity, or migration-related diversity more in general, manifests itself most prominently in urban settings (Amin and Thrift 2002; Penninx et al. 2004; Alexander 2007; Vertovec 2007; Glick-Schiller and Çağlar 2009; Caponio and Borkert 2010; Crul and Mollenkopf 2012; Wessendorf 2015). Therefore, this growing attention to superdiversity is reflected in what has been described as 'the local turn' in migration studies (Zapata Barrero et al. 2017). Especially since the mid-2000s, a remarkable rise of interest is witnessed in studies on migration and diversity on a local scale.

This 'local turn' helps migration studies to overcome 'methodological nationalism' (Wimmer and Glick-Schiller 2003). This involves a tendency amongst migration scholars (manifested also in a lack of comparative methods as well as in a strong orientation on national policies) to study migration and diversity within specific national and historical developed settings and boundaries. In other words, it promoted a 'national container view', which according to Bertossi (2011) and Favell (2003) resulted in the prominence of so-called 'national models of integration'. This meant that scholars and policymakers shared specific historically developed discourse and beliefs regarding how to approach migrant integration within a specific national setting. Examples include the French Republicanist model (Favell 1998), the British race relations model (Bleich 2013) and the Dutch multicultural model (Scholten 2013). The reification of these models would have discouraged the theoretical development of migration research by slowing down the development of comparative research (Thränhardt and Bommes 2010).

Methodological nationalism assumed that local policies could be based on historic specific national models of integration. However, recent studies have shown remarkable differences in approaches between city- and national-level policies (Scholten 2015; Bak Jorgensen 2012), but also between different cities within a specific country. Local policies were sometimes driven by very different models and logics than 'national models of integration', sometimes even conflicting with these national models (Scholten 2015; Bak Jorgensen 2012; Poppelaars and Scholten 2008). The 'local turn' has significantly complicated the so-called 'multi-level governance' of migration and integration (Hepburn and Zapata-Barrero 2014).

One should be careful not to replace the national models of integration with the idea that there is a very specific local model of integration (Caponio and Borkert 2010; Dekker et al. 2015; Scholten 2015; Zapata Barrero et.al. 2017). Rather, clear differences exist between policies in various cities, which cannot be explained on the basis of current literature. The great complexity of local situations leads to different migration and diversity patterns and local policy approaches (see also Caponio and Borkert 2010). For instance, Garbaye (2005) has focused on differences in local opportunity structures for political participation between Manchester and Lille. Crul and Schneider (2010) argue that specific urban social and political settings matter, not only regarding policy measures but also to social and economic outcomes of superdiversity. Alexander (2007) draws, in particular, attention to the role of city-specific migration histories, in connection with local economic infrastructures and opportunity structures, as a key explanatory factor why cities choose different policy models.

In an effort to introduce a more systematic approach to the comparative study of local integration policies, Glick-Schiller and Çağlar (2009, 2011) distinguish between different types of cities based on their positioning in terms of neoliberal restructuring. They argue that the neoliberal project, involving a transformation of global relations of production, is shaped by international migration movements. This neoliberal restructuring leads to the formation of global networks of economic interconnectedness with cities of higher hierarchical ranking and capital accumulation than others. The global cities (such as in Sassen 2001) rank among the top in terms of such neoliberal networks of exchange, enabling them to 'jump scale' as their global economic importance usually transcends that of the nation in which they are located (see also Barber 2013). Most cities are ranked lower in this global economic hierarchy and may benefit less from neoliberal restructuring. Glick Schiller and Caglar themselves use the examples of Manchester and Philadelphia in this regard (for a historical comparison see Hodos 2011).

Their thesis is that the positioning of a city in such neoliberal networks will not only shape migration flows to (and from) these cities but also the responses of these cities to migration and diversity. Top-scale cities are usually looked upon as cosmopolitan cities that have always attracted large migration flows that have driven and shaped these city's economies and provided ideal opportunity structures for social mobility and integration of migrants. The positive outcomes of past migration flows and their effects on stimulating international economic relations contributed to increasing migration flows in the present and possibly in the future. Migrationrelated diversity for these cities is more easily accepted as a positive economic opportunity. Up-scale cities are usually upcoming cities actively engaged in international economic exchange relations and international migration is used as a part of a long-term strategy working their way up the international hierarchy. Take for instance the many upcoming cities that actively promote high-skilled migration to boost their local knowledge industries and strengthen their global positioning.

Low- and down-scale cities are also affected by increasing global economic networks, but the dominant neoliberal project may be less advantageous. Migration patterns are not shaped by knowledge and capital-intensive projects, but the results of reducing the production costs and safeguarding local economy structures. The deployment of guest labourers in various labour-intensive economies such as textiles, heavy industries and construction can be seen as an example in this regard. However, public perceptions of this migration may be more negative, as a 'threat' to national labour conditions and employment opportunities. Low-scale cities may try to diversify their local economy trying to change their position in global networks of exchange. However, down-scale cities may be locked-into a struggle between local capitalists' desire to stay in business by using migration as a low-payed labour factor confronting local populist opposition to new migration as a threat to the "white" working man's position.

Taking Glick-Schiller and Caglar's types as a continuum from top- to downscale, this book positions Rotterdam as an 'average' city somewhere in between up-scale and down-scale. This involves a similar position to for instance Liverpool, Malmö, Hamburg, Marseille or Philadelphia. An in-depth study of Rotterdam, when confronted with the more abundantly available literature on the top-scale cities, will provide a deeper insight in how different cities respond to superdiversity differently.

#### **1.3 Rotterdam as a Case of Superdiversity**

This book seeks to position itself in the rapidly evolving literature on superdiverse cities. There have been, especially over the last decade or so, various studies addressing superdiversity and its implications at the local level. As mentioned above, this book will address a different type of city, but by doing so it does seek to contribute to the literature on what superdiversity means and how it is responded to at the local level.

#### *1.3.1 Rotterdam a Superdiverse Port City*

Many of today's global cities – New York, London, and Hong Kong – grew out of coastal settlements and because of their maritime activities and international migration movements became places of cultural diversity and financial-economic power, two important factors in pursuing global activities. In today's global perception these cities are not identified and understood as maritime world cities, since their port function is secondary to their service sectors (Verhetsel and Sel 2009). From a global perspective port cities have often been categorized as second cities. According to Jerome Hodos (2011) "second cities engage with and participate in globalization processes across several social spheres – global culture, migration, industrial production, trade – but not international finance. This lack of an international financial sector or market, combined with the growth of a second city consciousness or identity over time, serves to mark off second from global cities". However, as (Sassen 2010) claims even ports, which at first face play a secondary role lacking the financial, legal and creative services, which are characteristic for "real" global cities like London, New York and Tokyo, they are important nodes in the new knowledge, logistical chains and global migration networks. Even those port cities, like Liverpool, that due to containerisation and fierce competition had lost its former global port status, have shown to be resilient cities in post-modern circumstances. The waterfront regeneration in former major ports in the USA and in Europe has been partly an attempt to re-establish these cities as service hubs or tourist attractions (Wiese and Thierstein 2016).

The concept of the 'second city' takes the simultaneous intertwining of globalization and urbanization by scholars like Saskia Sassen (2001) as fundamental, but differs in focusing on non-global cities and in conceptualizing globalization as a much longer-term historical process. Rotterdam is an interesting case in point. Port cities and "second cities", such as Rotterdam, form a suitable framework for a better theoretical understanding of how cities that do not fit the global cities perspective do respond to superdiversity.

This volume starts with a discussion on Rotterdam's superdiverse nature before the industrial revolution took off in the mid-1850. From the sixteenth century onwards, Rotterdam benefitted from the international connections and trade networks dominated by Amsterdam. Trade followed ideas, vice versa and many refugees looked for a shelter in the tolerant Dutch Republic and found their way quiet easily in Rotterdam. Flemish leading merchants, French Huguenots, British and Scottish tradesmen – to name the most important groups – pushed forward Rotterdam's economy and cultural life. The mercator sapiens, the learned merchant, played a crucial role in Rotterdam's Early Enlightenment at the end of the seventeenth century. Rotterdam was called "Little London" in the early eighteenth century; a factor that contributed much to Rotterdam's international standing as centre of trade and commerce. The early-modern skyline of Rotterdam represented the many churches and denominations of migrants who settled in the city. However, Rotterdam was already a place of arrival for poor migrants. They did not only come from the rural hinterlands, since more and more German migrants settled here. The Rhine-connection became one of the major push- and pull factors during the nineteenth century when Rotterdam developed its transitport and became one of the major ports on the European continent.

The long nineteenth century is an important intermediate period, linking the premodern migrations patters with the post-modern migration issues, which are reframed and discussed in a multicultural, transnational context of superdiversity. Jürgen Osterhammel claims (2014, p. 129) the "immigration society" is not a modern phenomenon, but was one of the great innovations in the nineteenth century, kick-started by the logistical and industrial revolutions. Port cities had a large impact on the economic growth all over Europe and this development coincided with large movements of people to the cities. As places of arrival and departure, port cities determined the migration pattern in the long-nineteenth century. New economic growth opportunities were stimulated in seaports, in particular the ports that were already important trading places of commerce in an earlier period (Lees and Hollen Lees 2013).

The nineteenth century was, according to Osterhammel, the golden age of ports and port cities, in particular the large cities, places big enough to handle the huge volumes of goods and passengers of the expanding world economy. Figure 1.1 presents an overview of Rotterdam's major port developments and how these relate to major migration movements. Three periods are of particular importance 1850–1900; 1946–1960 and the period 1960–1970.

In order to have an idea about the development of Rotterdam's migration pattern, Fig. 1.2 shows the long-term development of Rotterdam's migration pattern form

**Fig. 1.1** Rotterdam's port development and major migration periods. (Source: http://www.oecd. org/governance/regional-policy/oecdport-citiesprogramme.htm)

**Fig. 1.2** Migration ratios Rotterdam 1851–1940; 1946–2016. (Source: Statistics city of Rotterdam 1851–2016)

1850–1940; and from 1946 to 2017. The net migration ratio's show the balance between in- and outmigration to and from Rotterdam. The time-series indicate three major periods: (1) a strong increase of migration during the third part of the nineteenth century, with positive migration rates until the 1930s; (2) a period of negative migration rates during the 1960s and 1970s and (3) a period of increasing net migration since the second half of the 1980s.

All three periods had an important impact on Rotterdam's migration narrative; the first period relates to the Rotterdam port expansion, the second towards the postwar selective migration process, shaped by a mixture of economic industrial developments and the making of the Dutch welfare state. The third phase has taken off in the 1990s and this period relates to different socio-economic circumstances. Since then, as become clear in this volume, multiculturalism and increasing cultural contrasts framed a reinterpretation of earlier migration patterns. From a political point, it was impossible to place recent developments to an existing city port's narrative of the working city. However, the impact on Rotterdam seems comparable from a demographic-transition perspective. The immigration rate of the period (1851– 1900; average 55.7) parallels that of the period 1990–2016 (average of 55.0), but the emigration rate was considerable lower in the first period, 42.8 than in the later period (54.2) when the net-migration rate was just below 1%. From a population dynamics point of view, the third part of the nineteenth century was more important than in the more recent period. Rotterdam's population was about 90,000 in 1850 and increased to around 300,000 50 years later; just before the Second World War, almost 620,000 people lived in Rotterdam. The strong migration push in the second part of the nineteenth century related to the strong expansion of the port. During the First World, Rotterdam's in-migration was affected by the inflow of Belgian refugees. Apart from the in-migration of numerous German female servants, the city experienced a substantial negative net-migration rate in the inter-war period as many successful Rotterdamers moved to the suburbs. In fact, many turned their back to the city and this pattern resembles the selective migration process that took off in the mid-1960s. Rotterdam's post-war welfare state, which was compatible to earlier forms of migration and population dynamics, underwent major changes in the 1960 and 1970s. People leaving Rotterdam had a different ethnic and socialcultural background than the new immigrants. While the Rotterdamers left the city en masse – population figures slowed down from 731,000 in 1965 to 613,000 10 years later – their homes in the nineteenth century neighbourhoods, once a migration area in itself, became residential areas for quest workers. Another major transmission took place during the early 1990s, when the migration rates started to rise again, one of the consequences of the major shifts in migration patterns due to globalisation and major economic, social, political and environmental changes resulting from this, the major themes of this book. Within the Netherlands Rotterdam as a second city but still a major hub, in terms of a geostrategic transfer point of major bulk goods (oil, petrochemicals) and containers. However, the expansion of

Western migrants (1st and 2nd generation) Non-western migrants (1st and 2nd generation)

**Fig. 1.3** Percentage of western- and non-western migrants (first/second generation) of the total population. (Source: CBS statline)

its port economy – in particular since the 1950s and up to the more recent development of the Second Maasvlakte – has fundamentally changed the relationship between the city and its port. Port activities take place at a large distance of the inner city. Although the major transformation of the port economy has not have changed the identity of Rotterdam as a world port and port city – which is used in branding the city – the economic shift has had large consequences for the social position of Rotterdam as a post-war welfare city and the changing nature of migration. In a post-industrial context, the port of Rotterdam is no longer a pull-factor for labour migrants. However, as will be shown in this book, other factors were responsible for Rotterdam's changing majority-minority structure.

The total Rotterdam population counted 635,000 in January 2017. Of this total population, in 2017 50,3% had a first or second generation migration background (see Fig. 1.3). This percentage increased rapidly from about 35% in the mid-1990s to over 50% in 2016. Second generation migrants, as defined in official statistics, include foreign-born people and their direct descendants. The Central Bureau of Statistics, also, differentiates between Western migrants, including European as well as North-American, Australian, New Zealand and Japanese migrants, and non-Western migrants.

The largest migrant populations are the Surinamese (8%), Turks (8%) and the Moroccans (7%); see Fig. 1.4. The share of these 'traditional' migrant groups increased over the last two decades, but most growth concentrated amongst the Western migrants (especially from Poland) and other non-Western groups. In fact, as Fig. 1.5 shows, the migrant population in Rotterdam is nowadays characterized by a broad range of different backgrounds, including Sub-Sahara African migrants, East-Asians, Central and East-European migrants and migrants from many different

**Fig. 1.4** Major migrant populations in Rotterdam (1996–2017). (Source: CBS statline)

**Fig. 1.5** Various migrant groups as percentage of total migrant population in Rotterdam (2017). (Source: Jennissen et al. 2018)

**Fig. 1.6** Native, first generation and second generation migrants, absolute figures (1996–2017). (Source: CBS statline)

countries of origin. In total, Rotterdam hosts more than 180 different nationalities, making it one of the most diverse cities in the world. It is this 'deepening' of diversity that clearly makes Rotterdam a superdiverse city.

Finally, Rotterdam clearly is a majority-minority city in the sense that the native population accounts for less than 50% of the total population. Additionally, Fig. 1.6 shows that the percentage of the native born population has decreased, whereas both the percentage of first and second generation migrants is still increasing. The fact that also the number of first generation migrants is increasing, clearly shows that Rotterdam continues to be a portal of entry for newcomers today.

#### **1.4 Outline of the Book**

The book builds an argument on superdiversity in the case of Rotterdam in three parts. The first section of chapters will define superdiversity in Rotterdam, from a historical and sociological perspective. It discusses both migration to and from Rotterdam. This includes contributions on relatively recent migration, such as the guest labourers in the twentieth century, as well as contributions on the role that migrants played in the early development of the city in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Each chapter discusses, besides sketching specific migration flows, how migration contributed to Rotterdam's nature of superdiversity. It also brings a sociological perspective on the position of migrants on their contribution to the city of Rotterdam. This includes various aspects of the position of migrants, differentiating between education, housing, the local economy, etc. Since the editors wants to contribute to a broader narrative on Rotterdam as a superdiverse city, the authors discuss the role and contribution of migrants in social, economic, political or cultural terms, as well.

The second section of chapters focuses on various ways in which Rotterdam has responded to the challenge of migration and superdiversity. This includes an analysis of Rotterdam's integration and, to some extent, migration policies, as well as more specific case studies of policy measures that have developed in Rotterdam over the last decades. Has Rotterdam really been such a laboratory of policy measures as sometimes suggested in the literature? In addition, is Rotterdam, although perhaps reluctantly so, coming to terms with superdiversity?

The third section places the Rotterdam case in a comparative perspective, in order to develop a better understanding of why Rotterdam has responded to superdiversity as it has. If there is a Rotterdam model of integration, how does it compare and relate to policies adopted in other cities, and for instance to national policies? How does Rotterdam compare to Amsterdam? Besides research-based comparisons, chapters in this volume also discuss various efforts that have been made by the Rotterdam administration to connect with other cities. This involves city networks like EUROCITIES, Integrating Cities and Intercultural Cities.

Finally, a concluding section elaborates on the argument of how Rotterdam stands for a broader range of superdiverse cities that do not fit in the category of 'global cities.' What can be learnt from the Rotterdam case on how other cities respond to superdiversity? Moreover, in what way does this volume contributes to the expanding literature on governance of superdiversity? A special epilogue to the book, written by Steve Vertovec, reflects further on what can be learnt from Rotterdam for a broader range of cities; 'what's the matter with Rotterdam?.'

#### **References**


**Open Access** This chapter is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.

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## **Part I Superdiversity in Rotterdam**

## **Chapter 2 Rotterdam's Superdiversity from a Historical Perspective (1600–1980)**

**Paul van de Laar and Arie van der Schoor**

#### **2.1 Introduction**

Scholars of globalisation describe pre-industrial cites as being relatively closed compared to their modern global counterparts, thereby underestimating their dynamics and openness (Coutard et al. 2014). As debates about modernity began in the 1970s, migration historians have challenged the static character of early-modern societies (Lucassen and Lucassen 2009). They argue that traces of earlier forms of globalisation are path-dependant and can be dated from pre-industrial trade and maritime networks, including international migration movements (Schmoll and Semi 2013; Meissner 2015). In particular, northwestern European cities were less static than had been assumed, as they operated in a proto-globalised, advanced commercialised and urbanised international urban network. People were always on the move, whether as rural-urban, seasonal or even long-distance migrants. Large numbers of these migrants were sailors or were employed as mercenaries who fought for money. Longitudinal datasets (1500–1900), as constructed by Lucassen and Lucassen (2009), prove the mobility of pre-modern societies. Cities played a major role in global migration processes, particularly during the sixteenth century and after 1850, when industrialisation marked a major turning point in the urbanisation of Europe.

Rural-urban, national, and international urban-urban movements contributed greatly to pre-modern dynamics. The level of pre-modern mobility, however, was

P. van de Laar (\*)

A. van der Schoor City Archives Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: a.vanderschoor@Rotterdam.nl

Erasmus School of History Culture and Communication, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: vandelaar@eshcc.eur.nl

not uniform. The Dutch Republic, for instance, in particular the well-developed and rich province of Holland, witnessed high migration rates during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but other less advanced economic regions were not as mobile. In the Dutch case, these high migration rates hastened the Republic's economic and cultural wealth. As the Netherlands, in general, was a highly mobile society, the divergences between pre- and modern economic and demographic transformations were less extreme than in other parts of Europe (Lucassen and Lucassen 2009). The Dutch case is, therefore, relevant in discussing the continuity of mobility between early-modern and modern society by looking for historical trends.

This chapter sketches the migration pattern of Rotterdam between 1600 and 1980. The Dutch Republic's second city since the second half of the seventeenth century, Rotterdam has always been a place of migration, even before it became one of the leading continental port cities at the end of the nineteenth century. This is not the first time that Rotterdam's migration history has been placed in a long-term perspective, with *Vier eeuwen migratie- bestemming Rotterdam* (Four Centuries of Migration – Destination Rotterdam, 1998) being the first major publication to do so. This chapter's main focus is to understand contemporary discourses on diversity and address today's issues not as being unique, but by placing them in a longitudinal historical perspective. We will do this by looking for major differences between Rotterdam's early-modern and modern periods (after 1850) until the 1980s. Our focus for the pre-modern era is on foreign migration in order to test the nature of the diversity of early-modern migration. Our concept of superdiversity can be described as a process of diversity on a local scale, stressing the important dimensions of ethnicity, gender, education, social status, generation or religion to explain processes of mobility or exclusion in a long-term perspective. Historian Josefien de Bock (2015), for instance, makes a plea for us to recognise the possibilities of using superdiversity as an analytical concept, "allowing us to systematically explore multiple layers of difference within the immigrant populations that we study, in order to better understand the trajectories of immigrants and their impact on the societies that received them" (de Bock 2015, p. 584).

The second part of this chapter deals with Rotterdam as a working city, which developed after the 1850s. Through their extensive maritime trade networks, port cities are looked upon as gateways that generate opportunities for the establishment of widespread international communities (Hoyle 2014). We, however, hope to show that, despite Rotterdam's major port development following the 1850s, the city before 1940 was less diverse from an international migration perspective than its pre-modern predecessor. The arrival of non-Western migrants in the 1960s and 1970s challenged Rotterdam's nineteenth century migration narrative. Policymakers have suggested that this post-war migration process is fundamentally different from older migration patterns. Indeed, new forms of labour migration did not fit into the existing popular narrative on the working-class city that was shaped before 1940. This argument will be elaborated on in the third part of this chapter.

#### **2.2 Part I: Migration in Early-Modern Rotterdam**

#### *2.2.1 The Great Seventeenth Century Inflow of Foreign Migrants*

The origins of migration to Rotterdam date back to its urban beginnings. Around 1400, a century after the first city charter, Rotterdam, with its port for transit and transhipping, had grown from a village of several hundred into a small settlement. Only a few of the estimated 2500 inhabitants were foreigners, with somewhat more coming from the nearby, older and bigger urban centres of Western Holland. Of course, the overwhelming majority of the new Rotterdammers had migrated from the surrounding Dutch countryside to the young city through the universal interplay of rural and urban push and pull factors (Van der Schoor 1992). Due to high urban mortality rates, most medieval and early-modern cities depended on a steady inflow of new inhabitants to ensure a reasonably stable population size, as well as population growth.

The influence of migration in the early modern period should not be underestimated as far as its importance for urban demographic and economic development is concerned (De Munck and Winter 2016). In this way, the modest trade and merchant navy city of Rotterdam grew to number 7000 inhabitants around the middle of the sixteenth century. The situation changed drastically towards the end of the century. Favourably located on the Meuse River between the leading city of Amsterdam in the Northern Netherlands and Antwerp, which was the global economic centre of the period in the Southern Netherlands, Rotterdam became increasingly oriented towards fishing, shipping and trade. The city administration, which consisted of merchants, ship owners and businessmen, reflected this orientation. Political and religious tolerance characterised their actions in the demanding times of the Dutch Revolt against the King of Spain as ruler of the Netherlands, as well as during the Reformation from 1570 onwards. The global economy, now increasingly dominated by Amsterdam, stimulated Rotterdam's trade, merchant navy and related industries. The fall of Antwerp in 1585 had a similar effect, to which Rotterdam responded with the large-scale expansion of the port and town around 1600. Immigrants from the Southern Netherlands, both wealthy merchants and textile workers, played an important role in this transition by providing an influx of knowledge and capital (Van der Schoor 1999).

A case in point is the famous and wealthy Flemish immigrant merchant Johan van der Veeken, who lived in Rotterdam from 1583 onwards. He co-established the first commodity exchange in Rotterdam, financed trade voyages around the world, and was joint founder of the Rotterdam chamber of the Dutch East India Company. His enormous capital, extensive trade relationships and immense trade knowledge made Van der Veeken one of the most influential citizens in Rotterdam in the late sixteenth century (De Roy van Zuydewijn 2002). In the same period, textile workers also left the Southern Netherlands to settle there. The labouring Rotterdam textile industry certainly required skilled Flemish refugees. The city administration successfully encouraged their settlement by means of subsidies, tax exemptions and low rents, thereby succeeding in revitalising this sector of the urban economy (Van der Schoor 1999).

A comparable and equally stimulating influx was related to art and culture, and was brought about by painters, writers and educators who fled from the Southern Netherlands. They formed an extended intellectual network in Rotterdam that had a profound influence on the urban spiritual climate. An example is Jan van de Velde, the famous schoolmaster and calligraphic artist from Antwerp who settled in Rotterdam in 1592, around whom a circle of family members, friends and business relations developed. The most famous printer of books in Rotterdam, the Fleming Jan van Waesberghe, was van der Velde's brother-in-law, but he also acquainted himself with wealthy merchants, as well as with the Flemish artists who formed a veritable colony in the old city (Van der Schoor 1999).

The pre-modern migration to Rotterdam really took off in the three decades before 1600. The influence of all immigration, both from abroad and other parts of the Republic, on population size and growth cannot always be easily established due to a lack of reliable data, but must have been considerable. In the second half of the sixteenth century, Rotterdam's population increased from an estimated 7000– 13,000. Then, between 1576 and 1614, more than 20,000 men and women marrying in Rotterdam were born outside the city; 20% of these immigrants were foreign, while the roots of the 80% majority lay in the Northern Netherlands. Population growth continued in the seventeenth century, with the number of inhabitants reaching 30,000 in 1650 and 51,000 in 1695, making Rotterdam the second largest city in the Dutch Republic. More than half of marriage-age men from 1650 to 1654 were born outside Rotterdam, with their origins equally divided between the Republic and other countries. The available marriage registers in the period 1650–1654, as well as the birth and death registers from 1670 to 1699, suggest that this population growth in the seventeenth century must, for the greater part, have been caused by immigration (Bonke 1996; Van der Schoor 1999).

Rotterdam was not an exceptional case as far as immigration from abroad is concerned. It has been estimated that between 1600 and 1800, total migration to the cities of the Holland area (roughly the contemporary provinces of North and South Holland) amounted to 1.2 million persons, with more than 600,000 coming from outside the Netherlands. Total foreign immigration in these cities (the combined figures for Rotterdam, The Hague and Delft are between the brackets) was 33% (24.2) in 1600, 29% (19) in 1650, 16% (9) percent in 1700, 20% (12.6) in 1750 and 16% (12.3) in 1800 (Lucassen 2002, pp. 21–22 and 28) (Table 2.1).

This first major inflow of immigrants also marked the beginnings of superdiversity, because migrants from other foreign regions than the Southern Netherlands soon made their way to Rotterdam. Indeed, even before 1600, a small but steady inflow from Germany and England had reached the city, to be followed in the seventeenth century by migrants from France, Scandinavia, Poland, Switzerland and Italy. In this way, the number of foreign countries or regions of origin more than doubled.


**Table 2.1** Origins at the time of first marriage in Rotterdam, sample 1650–1804 (in percentages)

Source: Briels (1985), Renting (1988), and Bonke (1996)

Another aspect of migration as an indication of early superdiversity is the size of a migrant-'community' in relation to the rest of the Rotterdam population. Some claim that the share of migrants from the Southern Netherlands in the Rotterdam population at the start of the seventeenth century varied from 20% in 1600 to 30% in 1621 (Briels 1985, pp. 147; 177). Later research revised these figures, but some 15% are still said to have come from the Southern Netherlands (Renting 1988, pp. 163–164; 167). Migrants from other countries have to be added to this foreign community. Based on marriage registers, the total foreign community in Rotterdam in the seventeenth century comprised between roughly 15% and 25% of the urban population (Bonke 1996, pp. 27; 77).

The composition of this foreign body was never constant, especially because immigration was temporarily slowed down by (trade) wars or other periods of unrest, such as those in 1652–1654, 1665–1667 and 1672–1673. On the other hand, immigration could also be temporarily accelerated, for instance by foreign refugees on the run. The abovementioned Flemish influx after the fall of Antwerp in 1585 is an early example, whereas the French Protestants who fled to the Dutch Republic after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 are an example from a century later (Van der Linden 2015). These often wealthy Huguenots caused the French community in Rotterdam to flourish from 1685 onwards, until a decline set in 10 years later. Even so, in 1705, Rotterdam had an estimated 1500–2500 citizens with French roots – some 3–5% of the total population (Mentink and Van der Woude 1965, pp. 67; 102). The French played an active part in cultural society life, as testified, for example, by the privately established French women's societies (Zijlmans 1999). In scientific life, the French philosopher Pierre Bayle soon rose to prominence. He arrived in Rotterdam in 1681 and was appointed Professor in Philosophy and History at the so-called *Illustre School*. This later world famous scholar and writer had a profound influence on the cultural and intellectual life of Rotterdam (Bots 1982). The same can be said of an English immigrant, the Quaker merchant Benjamin Furly, who at the time of Bayle's arrival in Rotterdam had already gathered around him an international society of thinkers and scholars (Hutton 2007). Clearly, the political and religious tolerance of Rotterdam attracted all kinds of foreign immigrants and provided a favourable climate not only for the urban economy, but also for cultural and intellectual life in the Western world (Voorhees 2001).

A comparable group to the French in size, although somewhat smaller, was that of the Scots towards the end of the seventeenth century. This community grew from around 600 in 1650 to a thousand by 1700, or, as a share of Rotterdam's population, from over 1% to 2%. The Scots were an element of British immigration, which was larger than its Flemish, German or French counterparts in the mid-seventeenth century (Catterall 2002, pp. 25–26). The Scots community differed little from the French in size, but was different in terms of the (economic) reasons for settling in the city. The existing trade-based ties between Rotterdam and England, and British migration to Rotterdam, received an important boost when the influential Court of the Fellowship of Merchant Adventurers, which controlled the export of British woollens, was moved to Rotterdam in 1635. Thanks to the resulting increase in trade between England and Rotterdam and the persistent presence of British merchants from the seventeenth century onwards, Rotterdam even became known as "Little London" in the eighteenth century (Doortmond and Vroom 1985). Consequently, trade between Scotland and Rotterdam also expanded, as did Scottish immigration to the city. This led to a "vibrant and growing" Scottish population that contributed to Rotterdam's position as a major port city (Catterall 2002, p. 26). Scottish merchants in Rotterdam traded in bulk goods from Scotland, such as salted salmon, hides, sheep fells, wool, plaid and the important coal; in exchange, they exported all sorts of luxury and manufactured goods. It has been stressed that closely connected to this participation in the Dutch economy were the social networks that existed between Scottish Rotterdam and other Scottish communities; these networks and the Scottish Church of Rotterdam made it possible to maintain and promote a Scottish culture and migrant identity (Catterall 2002, pp. 28–29).

Until now, the more economically successful migrants – Flemings, French Huguenots, the British and Scots – have received special attention. Most seem to have had a migration tradition, which was often based on old trading ties. There were also less wealthy migrants, such as the Germans, from the late seventeenth century onwards. Most of these were simple labourers or small traders. They continued to migrate to Rotterdam, however, until the end of the nineteenth century (Catterall 2002). Despite the end of the supremacy of the Republic in the late seventeenth and the eighteenth century, the population size and make-up altered little due to the changing international balance of economic power, although the number of Germans migrating to Rotterdam increased sharply.

#### *2.2.2 Foreign Migrants in the Eighteenth Century*

A fall in migration to Rotterdam caused the population to drop from 51,000 in 1695 to 47,500 in 1750. After the early eighteenth century wars and economic recession were overcome, the population increased again to 58,000 in 1800. The number of marriage-age men born outside the Republic rose from 15% to 18% from 1700 to 1800 and the number of women from 3% to 6% (Bonke 1996, p. 77). To establish the extent of immigration and its origins, two additional sources exist that provide an insight: the *Poorterboeken*, in which the more affluent migrants are listed who were able to buy the expensive (at 12 guilders) civil rights required for business and guild membership; and the *Admissieboeken* that listed all officially admitted migrants, especially the less well-to-do (Stadsarchief Rotterdam, Oud Stadsarchief (OSA), inv.nr 930–934, 1015–1017). The *Poorterboeken* and *Admissieboeken* both show the attempts of the Rotterdam City Administration to exert some control over the initial settlement of different groups of migrants.

Dealing with the richer immigrants first: from 1699 to 1811, over 14,000 new citizens or 'poorters', 92% of whom were male, were registered in Rotterdam. In the first half of the century, the number of poorters migrating to the city amounted to around a thousand per decade, although that number rose to around 1500 per decade after 1760. Sixty percent of the new Rotterdammers had roots in the countryside of the Dutch Republic. The most important provider of foreign migrants was Germany, which supplied 20% of the total number of poorters. The Germans migrated to Rotterdam from central and eastern regions such as Brandenburg, Hannover, Hessen and Prussia, and from the more western Rhine regions of Cologne, Kleef, Münsterland and Tecklenburg. The share of German immigrants rose from 5% around 1710 to 20% around 1800. Next in line were the poorters from England and Scotland; their share amounted to 9% but, unlike the Germans, this figure declined from 30% around 1700 to 2% around 1800. France and Belgium together supplied 7% of the new poorters, with a falling French share and a relatively stable Belgian one. Other, mostly European, countries such as Denmark, Ireland, Italy, Norway, Austria, Poland, Bohemia, Sweden and Switzerland each supplied a few dozen poorters at most. The conclusion is that the strong growth in the number of German poorters accounts, for the most part, for the general rise in the number of poorters after 1750. This phenomenon can be explained by the structural changes in the international balance of power, forcing the Republic to increase trade with nearby countries, and especially with the continental German hinterland, which had a positive influence on German migration to Rotterdam (Van der Schoor 1998).

Yet not all German migrants were rich enough to become a poorter. A large number of poor land-workers from the German countryside flocked to Rotterdam, initially as seasonal workers, but later to also find non-skilled work in the city's trades and industries. Along with other Germans and Dutch migrants from Brabant, who were usually mostly Catholic, they became part of a manual labour workforce. A great number of Rotterdam Catholics belonged to this 'proletariat' and were often among the poorest inhabitants. In 1784, the four Catholic poor-relief organisations together provided for almost a quarter of Rotterdam's poor. Indeed, from 1743 to 1795, one such organisation registered 1408 individuals or families, more than half of which had migrated to Rotterdam from Brabant and Germany (Van Voorst van Beest 1955, pp. 82–83).

These German and Brabant immigrants were required to seek permission to be 'admitted', as was also the case for every other immigrant who wanted to settle in Rotterdam. A newcomer would finally be admitted after 9 months of provisional admission without receiving poor relief. In the eighteenth century, more than 28,000 immigrants were admitted in this way. Their total number rose from a few hundred

in the first few decades to almost 5000 in 1760–1769. There was some decline in the decades that followed, but well over 3000 per decade were admitted up to the end of the century (Bonke 1996, p. 101). While the number of admitted immigrants is known, their country of origin has, until now, received very little attention. Accordingly, a sample of 9 years – 1710, 1720, 1730, 1740, 1750, 1760, 1770, 1780, and 1790 – has been considered in this chapter, with the origins of each immigrant established for these years. The results, focusing on foreign immigrants, can be summarised as follows: 1692 adults were admitted in the aforementioned 9 years. In 1710, 1720 and 1730, these admissions numbered much less than 100, but from 1740 onwards exceeded 200 as a result of the improving economic conditions following the early eighteenth century wars and the recession. The proportion of foreign immigrants varied between 20% and 60% and the number of foreign countries of origin between 2 and 11. In total, 18 different nationalities could be distinguished, on average 7 per year.

As Tables 2.2 and 2.3 show, the share of the 551 admitted foreign immigrants amounted to almost 33% of the total of 1692 admittees. Of that total, 21% were of German origin, while 12% had their roots in 1 of the 17 other countries. The large German share becomes even more prominent when compared to the group of 551 foreign immigrants in these sample periods: 355, or 64%, of them were German. The 42 Englishmen were second, with over 7%.

As far as superdiversity is concerned, it should be noted that there was a quite substantial increase in the number of foreign countries/regions of origin in the eighteenth century. Was this increase in superdiversity accompanied by an increase in the size of the migrant-'community' in relation to the rest of Rotterdam's population? Using marriage registers, for the seventeenth century, we estimated that the total foreign community in Rotterdam comprised between 15% and 25% of the urban population. Based on eighteenth century marriage registers, meanwhile, that percentage seems to have dropped to between 15% and 18%. A very conservative estimate of the migrant-community share between 1700 and 1800, based on the


**Table 2.2** Share of foreign immigrants finally admitted per year, sample 1710–1790

Source: Stadsarchief Rotterdam, OSA 1015–1017


**Table 2.3** Number of finally admitted foreign immigrants, per year and country/region of origin, sample 1710–1790

Source: Stadsarchief Rotterdam, OSA 1015–1017

number of foreign immigrants who became poorters or were admitted in the sample presented here, is barely higher than 19%. This corresponds with the trend of generally lower percentages of foreign immigrants in Dutch cities in the eighteenth century compared to the position in the seventeenth century (Lucassen 2002, p. 22).

The findings presented here on poorters and final admittees show that roughly two thirds of these eighteenth century immigrants came from the countryside of the Dutch Republic, while one third were foreigners. As far as the latter group is concerned, the most significant aspect of eighteenth century migration to Rotterdam is the very clear overrepresentation of German immigrants among both poorters and final admittees.

#### **2.3 Part II: Rotterdam Working City: 1850–1940**

#### *2.3.1 Boomtown Rotterdam*

Most European port cities showed substantial population increases during the nineteenth century. A substantial part of their demographic development was the result of in-migration (Lee 1998; Lawton and Lee 2002). In the Rotterdam case, however, the first part of the nineteenth century was a period of slow transformation, with the city's maritime economy having to recover from the French period. The city had lost much of its innovative power, which was highlighted during and just after the Napoleonic era (1799–1815). In the first half of the nineteenth century, the city fathers were slow to value the economic possibilities of industrialisation and neglected the opportunities that the liberalisation of trade and commerce had to offer. By then, the city was run by a closed system of patricians, who were unwilling to accommodate outsiders in their business networks. In this sense, the merchant ideology of Rotterdam's elite was not particularly open to newcomers, and its traditional economy did not provide enough opportunities for members of an international group of innovative businessmen. This attitude contrasted with the relative openness of the Rotterdam merchants and the participation of migrants in the public space in earlier periods. Port-city studies show disruptions of the merchant oligarchy between those favouring new developments (e.g. free trade, liberalisation, new means of shipping finance) and opponents from the same oligarchy who resisted any change that could jeopardise their personal or supposed family business interests and their position in the urban hierarchy (Lee 1998). However, once this network opened up around 1860, Rotterdam was ready to enter the industrial era (Callahan 1981).

Rotterdam had about 64,000 citizens in 1822, increasing to 90,000 in 1850. Before Rotterdam's transit-port took off around 1870, its population size was about 120,000. By the start of the twentieth century, however, the city had more than 330,000 inhabitants. Just before World War I, the total number of inhabitants increased to 460,000, while almost 620,000 were registered in 1939. Migration played an important part in Rotterdam's demographic development. Graph 1 shows the development of in-migration, out-migration and net-migration (the balance between in- and out-migration) for the period 1851–1940. There are no reliable statistics before 1850 and population dynamics due to migration-effects can only be estimated (Van Dijk 1976). Rough estimates, however, show a very volatile migration process during the first part of the century. This can be explained by the difficulties Rotterdam encountered in recovering its maritime economy. In particular, the industrial sector had suffered hugely from the Continental Blockade by the French in the first decade of the nineteenth century. Rotterdam merchants were at first reluctant to embrace the advantages of the liberalisation of the Rhine economy and trade in general (Van de Laar 2000) (Fig. 2.1).

The very poor living standards in the city and the political and economic crises of the 1840s had a major impact on Rotterdam's demographic development. At that time, its migration pattern was still based on a pre-industrial labour market structure. The city provided agrarian labourers with an income from temporary labour, in addition to other sources of livelihood in agriculture, forestry or rural industries. This pre-modern system lost its flexibility because of the increasing proletarisation of labour and the marginalisation of rural sources of income in the nineteenth century. Seasonal migration patterns turned into permanent rural-urban migration (Winter 2015).

**Fig. 2.1** Migration ratios of Rotterdam, 1851–1940. (Source: Van de Laar 2000)

In the period 1850–1900, net in-migration was responsible for more than 40% of the city's population increase. Unsurprisingly, most urban historians use the series of port turnovers and shipping activities as evidence for the relentless number of migrants (Van Dijk 1976). This relationship is, however, ambiguous. Indeed, between 1870 and 1880, just before the major port expansions began, the demographic impact of migration was at its height and 61% of the population growth was the result of migration. The migration effect slowed to 42% a decade later, but rose again to more than 50% in the period 1890–1899.

Migrant surpluses fell after 1900, with a period of rapid port traffic and, as a consequence, rising employment opportunities. By then, natural increases became a more important population growth factor, resulting from a sharp decline in infant mortality rates and a general improvement of health circumstances in the city, but also because the immigration of young men and women encouraged nuptiality (Van de Laar 2000). During World War I, Rotterdam's in-migration was affected by the inflow of Belgian refugees. However, apart from the in-migration of numerous German female servants, the city experienced a substantial negative net-migration rate in the inter-war period, as many successful Rotterdammers moved to the suburbs. With hindsight, the interwar period displayed the consequences of Rotterdam's development as a transit port and working city, characterised by a migration process in which more successful migrants left and settled in richer neighbourhoods. This pattern became even more distinct in the 1960s and 1970s, when this selective migration process (migrants had a different social, economic and ethnic background than the émigrés) re-shaped Rotterdam's cultural identity.

The social historians Bouman and Bouman (1952) popularised Rotterdam's nineteenth century migration history in their book *Rotterdam Werkstad* (Rotterdam Working City). This featured the stories of the children and grandchildren of migrants whose parents and grandparents had moved to Rotterdam from Brabant, the South Holland Islands and Zeeland – the most important areas of recruitment – during the era of the great Agrarian Depression in the third part of the nineteenth century. These documented and assembled stories became essential pieces of a greater narrative of Rotterdam as a city of migration. Rotterdam-South, the new harbour and industrial part of the city across the River Maas, played a fundamental role in this new narrative, turning the city into a city of arrival for migrants with an agricultural background. These migrants left their homes in the provinces, trying to escape the depression of the 1880s and 1890s. The increasing importation of cheap foodstuffs from the Americas ruined many European farmers, who were forced to abandon agriculture and move to the cities in a search for work. Many Dutch agrarian workers escaped the agrarian provinces, in particular Brabant, Zeeland and the South-Holland Islands, and moved to Rotterdam. The city's historiography stresses that the agricultural crisis, rural exodus and opportunity structure were inexorably linked. Rotterdam needed labourers to build docks and houses for all these new arrivals, but at the same time migrants provided the port city with a vast army of casual dockers.

In order to sketch Rotterdam's migration pattern, it therefore makes sense to look at developments before, during and after the agrarian depression.

Table 2.4 presents an overview of the places of origin and birth for two sample periods: 1865–1879 and 1880–1909.1 Only a small percentage of Rotterdam's migrants were foreign (see below). Compared to the pre-modern period, Rotterdam was therefore less diverse when the relatively low share of foreign migration is taken into account. The findings show the importance of rural vparts of the province of South Holland (Goeree-Overflakkee, Hoekse Waard and Voorne-Putten) as regions of departure. After 1880, the relative share of South Holland migrants decreased, but it remained by far the most important province for migration to Rotterdam. North-Holland, Gelderland, North-Brabant and Zeeland also played a substantial role in Rotterdam's spatial migration pattern. Relatively fewer migrants, however, came from the northern provinces of Groningen, Drenthe and Overijssel.

The central province of Utrecht was not a major supplier of labour. North-Brabant and Zeeland were important, but these agrarian provinces played a less significant role in terms of emigration than the rural towns in South-Holland.

<sup>1</sup>After corrections, the final sample consisted of 1690 heads of household (families and single migrants): 890 for the period 1865–1879 and 800 for the period 1880–1909. The percentage of male heads of household was 70% in both samples. Taking account of household composition (spouse, children, relatives, lodgers and residents), the first sample totals 1047 men and 1045 women, with 1147 men and 1039 women for the second period (Bruggeman and Van de Laar 1998).


**Table 2.4** Provinces and countries of origin and birth of migrants to Rotterdam, 1865 and 1909 (in percentages)

Source: Bruggeman and Van de Laar (1998), p. 151 and 152.

Many urban and social historians have stressed the strong rural element in Rotterdam's migration pattern, which has recently been confirmed by Paul Puschmann's (2015) comparative study on the port cities of Antwerp, Rotterdam and Stockholm (1850–1930). In his research, Puschmann used sample data from the Historical Sample of the Netherlands (HSN), which is a random sample of the Dutch population born in the period 1812–1922 (Mandemakers 2006). Puschmann's study shows that 61.4% of in-migrants had a rural background, which is very similar to the findings by Bruggeman and Van de Laar (1998). Puschmann (2015, p. 119) calculated that a large number of the inland migrants travelled only a short distance – less than 50 km. A substantial number were born in rural provinces, although approximately 40% of them were from towns with more than 20,000 residents. These migrants followed a step-wise migration pattern – from their hometown, they moved to a larger place in the province of their birth. Then, they travelled to larger provincial towns before finally arriving in Rotterdam. In general, people were on the move, looking for new labour opportunities, but rural-urban migrants followed a particular pattern. Rotterdam is not unique in this sense: migrants moving to Marseille and Antwerp, for example, followed a similar pattern (Winter 2015).

Map: Nieuwe landkaart van het Koninkrijk der Nederlanden (New map of the Kingdom of the Netherlands and its Provinces, including Luxembourg), 1 April 1869. Until 1890, there was a personal union between Luxembourg's throne and the Dutch throne. Collection Atlas Van Stolk, Rotterdam

Most migrants belonged to a very unsettled group: Bruggeman and Van de Laar (1998) showed that 70% of them left the city within an average time-span of 2 years. Return migration was always an option for these short-distance migrants, however. A small percentage of the out-migrants travelled abroad, but a substantially larger part of them moved to other cities in the Netherlands. The four major cities of the Randstad conurbation (Amsterdam, The Hague, Rotterdam and Utrecht) were alternative places of settlement. Migrants took advantage of the railroad infrastructure and information network supported by local agents and a commercial network of local newspapers. Once migrants had accepted that migration was the best option to improve their economic position, they developed a migratory mindset, which encouraged them to move on when the city of first arrival did not provide them with adequate job opportunities. The sense of mobility, however, reduced the possibility of feeling at home and, so, integration in society. Those who remained in Rotterdam were perhaps more successful than those who left the city, but there is no clear empirical evidence of this. More research is, therefore, needed to evaluate the careers of migrants who left Rotterdam compared to those who stayed behind.

#### *2.3.2 Rotterdam Working City*

Table 2.5 compares the occupancy structure of Rotterdammers (based on weighted averages of the four censuses of 1859, 1889, 1899, and 1909) with the sample data. The listed job categories are based on the occupation registered on entry to the city. The real place of work could be different, of course, and the first registered job was probably preferred work, consistent with existing work experience and competences. The preferred jobs are relevant indications for the category of skilled craftsmen, who clung to a familiar field of employment. Unsurprisingly, the number of those employed in fisheries and agriculture was very low in the census data, and even lower among migrants.

The urban industrial sector groups together all kinds of professional category that are not directly port or maritime related. Simply put, included are all the types of job you expect in any major city catering for people's urban needs, including producing luxury goods and the processing of precious metals, the manufacture of musical instruments, or specialist export industries. Gas, electricity, and construction are also classified as urban industries. Social services (mental health and caring professions, household and liberal professions) form part of non-port-related professions. The port-related industries are typically shipbuilding or maritime-related


**Table 2.5** Rotterdam's occupational structure based on average statistics (1859, 1889, 1899, and 1909) and the results of the sample on migration – 1865–1879 and 1880–1909 (in percentages)

Source: Bruggeman and Van de Laar (1998)

supply industries. The port service clusters all companies dealing directly with port and transport functions, but also activities in the field of trade, retail, commerce, banking and insurance.

The census data reveal that 30% of migrants were employed in urban industries. Almost the same share from the first sample period found a job in this sector, but this figure fell to 24% after 1879. The construction and clothing sectors were the main branches of urban industrial activities in the census data, followed by the food sector. The clothing sector generated fewer jobs from the mid-1850s onwards, as this traditional, labour-intensive sector was unable to compete with the manufacture of garments in workshops and factories. The construction industry was a typical 'migrant industry' (Passel 2005), and had a high concentration of migrants. Contractors, carpenters, polder workers and painters flocked to the city. According to the sample, the relative number of migrants working in the construction sector declined after 1880. Unskilled migrants (in the second sample, around 10% of the in-migrants) were employed by private constructors, who invested in boom-town jerry-built neighbourhoods. An expanding city also needed many food suppliers, but as in other branches, artisan-driven food factories lost their importance. Industrialbased food manufacturers, which could produce goods more cheaply, supplied a larger share of the daily rations of the working population. On the other hand, the new industrial-based food manufacturers generated new jobs, including for migrants.

The shipbuilding and metal industries were leading sectors with higher barriers to entry, with only skilled workers recruited. This may explain the small variance in the occupancy rates between the census data and our migration sample. Larger differences occurred in the trade, traffic and administrative sectors. Relatively fewer migrants found employment in port-related services, but we have to take account of the fact that seafaring people may have been under-registered in the sample data. Generally, these workers are not classified as migrants, but, as they belong to a highly mobile working population, that is precisely what they are (Sæther 2015, p. 31). The banking and insurance sectors generated more jobs at the turn of the century, but without a specialist network (which was the case for German migrants, see below) the entry barrier was high, due to the higher education requirements associated with office work.

Puschmann (2015, Chapter 6) analysed the career opportunities of inland migrants coming to Rotterdam. In general, his results show that 14.7% of them were unskilled and performed the kind of simple manual tasks that anyone is able to carry out with some training (see Van de Putte and Miles 2005). Bruggeman and Van de Laar (1998) concluded that casual labourers in general found employment in construction, port activities and transport. Puschmann's data confirm this, showing an overrepresentation of migrants in the low-skilled jobs category. Migrants between the ages of 15 and 20 had more chance of getting a job with a slightly lower social status than their peers born in Rotterdam. On average, they even had to face a period of downwards social mobility, but after their 30th birthday, these migrants were able to improve their social position. Puschmann's statistical analysis shows that migrants in their 40s were able to outperform natives of the same age group. However, career possibilities depended, of course, on skills and the opportunities that the city provided to develop them. Starting a business is an example of such career development. Rural unskilled migrants, generally, remained in a lowly social position.

According to Table 2.5, the share of migrants classified as unskilled manual labourers more than doubled after 1879. The significant increase (10 versus 4% in the first sample period) corroborates the thesis of Bouman and Bouman and highlights the impact of the agricultural crisis on migration. These migrants were used to harsh labour conditions, and their agrarian background, in combination with the fact that no specific skills were required, pushed them to accept less skilled, physically demanding port work. Rapidly expanding ports like Rotterdam, Marseille and Antwerp offered enough opportunities for these unskilled rural labourers (Winter 2015).

Most unskilled and landless labourers with strong agrarian roots were born in typical agrarian provinces (Brabant, Zeeland and the South-Holland Islands). Then, before they relocated to Rotterdam, they moved to places like Kralingen, Delfshaven and, in particular, Hillegersberg. These migrants belonged to a category of seasonal agricultural workers who travelled to Rotterdam on a regular basis. They did all kinds of unskilled work, e.g., construction, coach-work, gardening, dock-work, longshore work and warehouse work. Living near Rotterdam meant they could respond quickly when the port required extra labour. Knowing the local circumstances was important, as the organisation of labour on the waterfront had its own rules and personal relations mattered a great deal. Urban historians often neglect these factors and simply accept the notion that because working on the docks did not require extra skills, the entry barrier was rather low (Winter 2015). However, the social organisation of the waterfront and cargo-handling businesses, as well as personal relations with stevedore bosses, played a decisive role in the chances of obtaining a job. Well into the twentieth century, most cargo handling was organised as a so-called 'shape-up' system, which was the regular way of contracting day labour in most ports. The dock-workers seeking a job gathered on the waterfront. Apart from peak periods, however, supply generally outstripped demand. In 1913, a maximum of 9200 workers were needed at peak times, but no more than 3200 on quieter days. Before the introduction of technologically advanced equipment like grain elevators, which required the standardisation of handling and big capital investment, stevedore bosses controlled the waterfront and regulated job opportunities. Migrants with the right network or good relationships with stevedore bosses, or even better with pub owners (the pub being the ultimate place for the payment of wages), had a greater chance of being recruited. Others would have had more difficulty in finding a job, except at times of labour unrest, when migrants were recruited as strikebreakers. Good connections with these stevedores and their personal social and business networks were fundamental in a fragmented market for cargo handling. Mechanisation reduced the number of available jobs, but in general the dockers employed by the major shipping firms or specialist stevedore companies became less dependent on casual labour (Van de Laar 2000).

Female migrants had many opportunities in the urban service sector – 52% in our sample, particularly after 1880 when the demand for private services increased. Unsurprisingly, majorities of them were young (under 22), unmarried and most

were typical short-distance migrants. Domestic service was not the only sector with a high concentration of migrants – civil servants, teachers and members of the professional class (lawyers, artists) often had a migration background.

The analysis of the occupational structure of the migrants supports the general labour migration thesis that people were on the move, because they were looking for ways to improve their economic position and living standards. The increase of unskilled labourers after 1880 could have been due to falling job opportunities in the countryside. The rural background of these migrants has prevented many historians from paying attention to their diversity in this era. This is partly the result of the convincing narrative that had been woven around the working-class city. Migrants, in general, belonged to a mobile population, which as Lee (1998) has shown, is not uncommon for port economies dominated by volatility in maritime trades and port turnover. In general, the migration pattern of unskilled migrants did not differ significantly from other migrants. Moreover, they were not overrepresented in the group of floating migrants, i.e. those that left the city within 6 months of their arrival. The port of Rotterdam encouraged the trek to the city, but the fact that it was a dynamic place in transition was, in itself, a strong motivation for moving there.

#### *2.3.3 The Bouman and Bouman Hypothesis on Integration*

Bouman and Bouman (1952) were the first to document the social, cultural and economic backgrounds of migrants. They were primarily interested in how these families tried to integrate into the receiving society, describing how agricultural roots hindered the process of assimilation. They pointed to the incompatibility of rural habits with city life and stressed how the urban habits of these migrants bore the stamp of their agricultural background. For instance, these migrants cultivated their own vegetables in food gardens and were characterised by less sophisticated rural social norms and values. Bouman and Bouman referred to the religious orthodoxy, particularly strong family ties, and commitment to their homeland of these migrants. They believed that these deep-rooted, rural-based cultural values hampered the integration process. Their reconstruction of migration history became the building block for a narrative of Rotterdam-South as a place of arrival where the moral standards and values of an agrarian-based migration community became embedded in a local culture. According to Bouman and Bouman, it would take two generations before this culture would develop into an urban culture. During this process of urban acculturation, this 'cultural residue' shaped urban life and created the conditions for co-existing cultures: an urban dominant culture of a majority next to the rural-urban culture of migrant minorities.2 The cultural differences were also

<sup>2</sup>The concept of cultural residue is taken from Williams (1977). Where it "has been effectively formed in the past, but it is still active in the cultural process, not only and often not at all as an element of the past, but as an effective element of the present" (122). Quoted in Perry (2000, pp. 119–135).

spatially related. Rotterdam-South, the city of arrival on the south bank of the River Maas, was contrasted to the city on the north bank. The newcomers in Rotterdam-South formed a labour-force that shaped Rotterdam's New Town across the river. The River Maas was, in essence, more than just a physical barrier to cross. Even Rotterdam's modernised urban narrative has not removed the mental and cultural barrier between Rotterdam-South as a port and migration city and the urban district on the other side of the river. Bouman and Bouman's book, published in the early 1950s, filled a lacuna in Rotterdam's modern social history. Their impressionistic and humanistic view of Rotterdam's working class structure helped to readers to understand the city's nature of hard-working people and the post-war success of its rapid reconstruction. The Dutch Communist national newspaper *De Waarheid* (Truth) wrote: "In almost every family there are ties, which are linked in some way with the rural setting and only in the last two or three generations, there are Rotterdammers who actually feel like a native Rotterdammer" (De Waarheid, 20-12-1952). Bouman and Bouman were the first to acknowledge the limitations of their research methods by addressing the problems of a non-systematic selection of sources. They hoped their efforts would stimulate further research on the human relationships in a rapidly developing city (Het Vrije Volk, socialist newspaper, 17-1- 1953). Unfortunately, historians then were not particularly interested in the social history of the city. Bouman and Bouman's book did not lay the foundations for an academic debate on Rotterdam's meaning as a migration city, but was instead a reference guide for Social Democrats trying to explain Rotterdam's Socialist nature, supporting Social Democratic welfare policies in the 1970s (Het Vrije Volk, 13-06-1974).

#### *2.3.4 Social Inclusion or Exclusion?*

By focusing on the cultural residual effects of a rural background, Bouman and Bouman were convinced that most migrants had difficulties in adapting to the receiving society. For instance, one migrant wrote in a letter about his unhappiness3 : "The big city was hostile to me. Often it happened that the others did not understand me, although I did not speak a dialect, but standard Dutch, with some accent from the eastern provinces of the Netherlands." Many of the documented letters witness a slow process of integration and assimilation, and according to many respondents only the second generation became Rotterdammers, although this was not an easy process4 : "A lot of suffering, sadness and worries, a lot of struggle, often a bitter struggle. Notwithstanding the many ups and downs we became Rotterdammers."

<sup>3</sup> "Ik voelde de grote stad als een vijandigheid. Vaak gebeurde het dat de anderen me niet verstonden, hoewel ik toch geen dialect sprak, maar wel algemeen beschaafd met enigermate oostelijk accent", (Bouman and Bouman 1952, p. 37).

<sup>4</sup> "Veel leed, verdriet en zorgen, veel strijd, vaak bittere strijd, maar we werden door voor- en tegenspoed Rotterdammers", (Bouman and Bouman 1952, p. 38).

The lack of detailed event studies and other reliable data was, of course, a major problem when it comes to testing Bouman and Bouman's assimilation hypothesis. Nevertheless, this was done by Paul Puschmann in a recent study (2015). He compares Rotterdam with Antwerp and Stockholm and uses the opportunities migrants had to find a marriage partner as an indication of social in- or exclusion. Marriage and children offered a safety net in times of trouble, as city governments were not very willing to support the poor. Indeed, poor relief was based on charity and primarily organised by the church or poor-relief organisations well into the nineteenth century. Staying single, therefore, apart from social, cultural and religious considerations, was not very attractive or a conscious choice for most people. In general, migrants who stayed single faced the risk of being marginalised in urban society, as they had fewer opportunities to put down roots and continued to be outsiders. Puschmann used a sample of internal migrants who were not born in Rotterdam and were single at the time they arrived there (Puschmann 2015, Chap. 4). The internal migrants were very young, with about 94% of them moving to the city before the age of 30. Unsurprisingly, the young migrants who stayed were likely to marry, because they had more opportunities to settle. Finding a partner in Rotterdam was not, however, easy. Of the in-migrants who remained, only 45.1% married. Taking into account the number of migrants leaving the city and marrying a partner elsewhere, more than 35.2% of the internal migrants who came to Rotterdam stayed single for the rest of their life. This contrasts heavily with the marriage statistics in the census: in 1909, only about 11% of Rotterdammers in the age group 45–49 were single. As migrants could not find a marriage partner easily, they had a higher risk of exclusion than native-born Rotterdammers. In other words, internal migrants in general had great difficulties putting down roots in society, which cannot be explained in terms of large numbers of temporal migrants or seasonal workers.

There was a difference between the social status of those who got married and those who stayed single. Puschmann's analysis shows that more than 55% of the migrants from a middle class or elite background stayed single, which was unexpected, as most migration theorists predict that migrants with a higher social status and access to economic capital are more likely to be successful on the 'wedding market' than unskilled or semi-skilled workers. The opposite is, however, true in the Rotterdam case: even though the marriage opportunities of migrants above the age of 30 were generally low, the middle classes and the elite ran a higher risk of staying single than their counterparts did from the lower classes.

Unskilled and semi-skilled migrants from a rural background had better odds of settling than migrants that were more qualified. Puschmann assumes that port cities' native elites were very reluctant to share the relatively poor supply of higher qualified jobs with newcomers. Maureen Callahan's (1981) seminal work on Rotterdam's elites showed that, before 1870, the city was run by a family government that was unwilling to open their network up to newcomers. This system gradually started to change when new merchants came to the fore. These newcomers reset the merchant's ideology and did not abide by the rules of older merchants who tried to protect the business and maritime interests of a small elite (Lee 1998). The rules of the port game had changed in the last third of the nineteenth century, when the transit economy called for a different way of organising labour and capital. The native merchants, who were originally in a strong position, were unable to control the port business any longer, and this paved the way for a new branch of entrepreneurs, often with a migration background (Puschmann 2015, p. 245).

Only 16% of the in-migrants in Rotterdam married a native Rotterdammer, indicating their lack of appeal as marriage partners. The majority of the migrants that married had a partner with a similar migration background. As most migrants settled in the newly built neighbourhoods adjacent to the old city centre, these were the areas where they had the greatest chance of finding a partner (see below).

Puschmann's quantitative approach offers new ways of testing existing hypotheses on the marginalisation of migrants and the adaptation problems they encountered. In general, he confirms the qualitative case studies of Bouman and Bouman. In-migrants faced severe difficulties coming to terms with their new society, in particular rural-urban migrants who escaped the countryside at the end of the nineteenth century. Rural migrants witnessed the disadvantages of a port society in transformation and were discriminated against. Marginalisation and exclusion took place on a large scale. This meant that only a small percentage of the migrants became Rotterdammers, namely those who were young enough to settle (under the age of 17) and were able to find a marriage partner. The marriage patterns of migrants should therefore be linked to the fact that so many left the city. In this sense, they behaved like modern migrants and moved on whenever they were unwelcome and were offered inadequate means of subsistence (Puschmann 2015, pp. 179, 237).

#### *2.3.5 Spatial Pattern of Migration in Rotterdam*

A much-debated question still is whether the social exclusion of migrants is spatially related and whether Rotterdam's rural migration communities were bound to Rotterdam-South. According to Bouman and Bouman, migrants from Brabant, Zeeland and the South-Holland Islands tended to settle in Rotterdam-South and had a strong preference for living together in segregated areas. Gerard van der Harst (2006) used statistical data from the Historical Sample of the Netherlands, as well as the sample data of Bruggeman and Van de Laar. Van der Harst was particularly interested in the migration pattern of Brabanders (from the province of North-Brabant) and those from the province of Zeeland, as both migrant communities played a significant role in Bouman and Bouman's work. Bruggeman and Van de Laar concluded that, in general, migrants from Zeeland, North Brabant and the South-Holland Islands had no clear preferences for particular neighbourhoods in Rotterdam. Migrants had several options: the inner city, which was part of the medieval town and was separated by the High Street (the old sea-dyke); and the seventeenth century merchant and harbour area 'Water town'. This became the most renowned part of Rotterdam and a residential area for successful merchants,


**Table 2.6** Areas of settlement of migrants from Zeeland and Brabant compared to all migrants, inner city and new city (>1850) 1865–1879 (in percentages)

Source: Bruggeman and Van de Laar (1998) and Van der Harst (2006)

including for those from abroad, traders and shipping owners. New neighbourhoods were developed in the eastern, western, northern and southern parts of Rotterdam from the mid-1850s onwards. Table 2.6 presents an overview of the settlement pattern of migrants based on the sample studies of Van der Harst and Bruggeman and Van de Laar.

In general, the settlement patterns of the Brabanders and the overall population did not differ greatly, but the comparison shows that 65% of the migrants from Zeeland opted to live in one of the new areas, particularly in the eastern part of the city. Rotterdam-South had not yet become a place of arrival, as port development in that area started later. The relatively higher number of migrants from Zeeland suggests that these families belonged to the pioneers who worked as construction and railroad workers, as well as the ground workers who had turned the agricultural land into dockland. Single male migrants from Brabant were, for the most part, typical city craftsmen (bakers, tanners, shoemakers, blacksmiths etc.) looking for employment in a growing urban economy. They usually settled wherever they could find cheap accommodation. The inner city of Rotterdam was packed and migrant families who could afford to avoid the slums rented a house in one of the new neighbourhoods. The eastern part of Rotterdam showed new building activity provided by small construction firms who hoped to benefit from the great demand for housing. In general, as Van der Harst shows, migrants from Brabant and Zeeland were very mobile and did not stay in the poor neighbourhoods of the inner city for long. Even less successful migrants tried to resettle elsewhere. Van der Harst's evidence confirms Bruggeman and Van de Laar's conclusion that these migrants belonged to floating migrant populations who resided in a particular area and then resettled elsewhere or simply left the city. Van der Harst also shows that Rotterdam-South became a favourite location in the period 1910–1920, and an agrarian background mattered once the migrants had settled. Most of them, however, were female servants who married a Rotterdammer and opted to live in the more spacious areas of Rotterdam-South. However, this part of Rotterdam, apart from certain neighbourhoods on Katendrecht (see below), was not a typical dockers' location and the occupational structure in these areas reveals a more balanced social cultural pattern. Migration was, generally, related to all the new neighbourhoods that were constructed during the nineteenth century and became new parts of Rotterdam where migrants settled and could find a marriage partner.

#### *2.3.6 Minorities Versus Majorities*

#### **2.3.6.1 Rotterdam: A German City?**

Rotterdam's pre-industrial history convincingly reveals a multi-ethnic and religious society. Small foreign minorities could have a significant influence on Rotterdam's cultural, political and economic development. British and Scottish families with strong family ties showed a sense of national identity, but this did not preclude the development of a strong local identity either, once they started to make a career in Rotterdam and gained full citizenship. There is no evidence of ethnic and racial tensions between Rotterdammers and foreign minorities in the nineteenth century. According to census data from 1849, 3.5% of the population was born in a foreign country. Around 1900, only 2% of Rotterdam's population was born abroad, which is substantially lower than in pre-industrial times and much lower compared to Antwerp, where this figure was 10% (Puschmann 2015, p. 84). The sample data in Table 2.4 above shows that in the first period (1865–1879), 6.6% of the migrants were born abroad as against 8.6% from 1880 to 1909. The Germans were the largest group, followed by Belgians and English, with whom Rotterdammers interacted quite easily. Other smaller groups, like the Italians and Italian-speaking Swiss from Ticino, belonged to a group of chain migrants who recruited their own servants and had almost no contact with Rotterdammers. For the most part, they were employed as chimney-sweepers, which was an unhealthy, dirty and dangerous job that made it hard for them to socialise with native Rotterdammers (Chotkowski 2006).

Rotterdam became an even more important place of arrival for Germans during the second part of the nineteenth century. By then, the transit port of the German Empire offered enough career opportunities for German migrants with commercial and maritime connections (Schmitz 1998; Lesger et al. 2002). Male Germans found employment as dockers and sailors and the women as domestic servants, although some experienced downwards mobility and moved to "sailor-town" to become prostitutes. These "blond-haired Loreley's" caused much turmoil within Rotterdam's bourgeois circles (Van Dijk 1976; Manneke 1998). German retailers and shopkeepers also looked for opportunities, as evidenced by the settlement of the latter from the Westphalian Münsterland (Delger 2006). Some of them relied on an already


**Table 2.7** Occupational structure German immigrants in Rotterdam compared to the total population of Rotterdam by gender and arrival-cohort group, 1870–1930

Source: Delger (2006)

existing extensive social network, like the Bohemians had done in the eighteenth century. According to the census data (1879–1909), about 1.1–1.7% of the Rotterdam population was German. At the start of World War I, 4000 Germans lived in Rotterdam; in 1930, this was still the largest group, at about 6000 people, meaning that around 48% of the foreigners in Rotterdam had a German background (Delger 2006; Puschmann 2015, pp. 84–92).

Delger (2006) studied two cohorts (1879–1879 and 1920–1929) and concluded that German male migrants were overrepresented in the business sector, although the relative share diminished from 34.5% in cohort 1 to 26% in cohort 2 (see Table 2.7). There was a remarkable increase in the share of Germans employed in the industrial sectors in the second cohort (from 27% to 61%). On the other hand, the percentage of Germans working in the transport sector (shipping, railways, etc.) reduced significantly. In contrast, the census data of the Rotterdammers showed an increase from 22.8% to 28.9% for German men. The service sector, meanwhile, created more employment opportunities for German women, particularly in the 1920s (see below).

A majority of German migrants stayed in Rotterdam for a short period. Nevertheless, those aged between 15 and 29 who decided to settle in the city and made a career there enjoyed a social position that was, on average, higher than that of Rotterdam-born residents. These successful German migrants represented the "Rhine-migration system", which was the logistical chain between the dynamic transit port and the industrial hinterland. Rotterdam had enough labour opportunities for German migrants and the economic prospects of the transit economy attracted those from a more diverse background. Their decision to move from the German hinterland to Rotterdam did not really depend on personal relations in the city of arrival or on existing family networks (Lucassen 2005a, b). Some very successful members of Rotterdam's international trading firms, e.g. A.G. Kröller, CEO of Wm. H. Müller & Co. (originally a German firm), became major players in the city's transit economy, while others became typical representatives of the new class of harbour barons. Apart from the transit economy, however, German firms had not generally attained a substantial position in Rotterdam's financial and commercial life (Weber 1974; Dekker 2015).

Only a minority of the German migrants moving to Rotterdam married a partner from the same country of origin. Religious background was a more important selection criterion than ethnicity. In particular, Catholic Germans opted for partners from the same religion. German men marrying a Rotterdammer tended to choose a partner whose father shared the same professional background. This German marriage pattern changed after World War I, when push factors were more important than pull factors. Germans fled to the Netherlands to escape from the disastrous economic situation in the 1920s, highlighted by the "Great Inflation" and political instability. Many German women sought economic shelter in the Netherlands, particularly in the Randstad conurbation, and Rotterdam became home to female refugees from Germany. Unsurprisingly, the gender ratio between German male and female migrants changed significantly, reducing the likelihood of marrying someone from your own country. Yet this was not the main reason why German women tended to marry a Rotterdammer: many of them worked as domestic servants living in their employers' household, relatively isolated from their countrymen. It was therefore much easier to find a Rotterdammer as a marriage partner. Compared to German females who migrated to Rotterdam in the last third of the nineteenth century, religious background became less important than socio-economic status. Most women married lower middle class men, with a minority finding their partner at the docks or in the typical Rotterdam transport sector (Delger 2006).

The German marriage pattern shows great differentiation. Ethnicity and places of origin are just two aspects, with other factors like religion, professional background and the heterogeneity of the receiving society mattering as well (Lucassen 2005). In general, the Germans found their way rather easily in Rotterdam, supported there by several institutions and organisations: the German Evangelical Church; a German school; sport and choral societies; and associations supporting the German poor. There is, however, a difference between the Germans who arrived in the 1870s and those who came in the inter-war period, in particular in the 1930s when the Nazis came to power. The migrants coming to Rotterdam in the 1870s had significantly better chances of upwards social mobility than their compatriots half a century later. The Rotterdam economy provided better opportunities in the earlier period than during the crisis. In the 1870s, Rotterdam's relatively favourable economic conditions attracted entrepreneurial and skilled migrants who hoped to benefit from the expanding trading and commercial activities that the transit economy had to offer. Germany's booming industrial economy created enough opportunities for less or unskilled labourers, so there was not really a push factor to leave. This changed in the inter-war period, when German workers had nothing to lose. However, Rotterdam's port economy at that time suffered due to the collapse of the Rhine economy and had high unemployment. Consequently, the port city offered fewer opportunities for upwards social mobility for natives and foreigners alike (Delger 2006).

#### **2.3.6.2 Policies Towards Foreigners**

Rotterdam had no urban migration policy. City officials considered primarily whether labour classes in general, and dock workers in particular, could disturb the social balance in the city. As foreign migrants comprised a small percentage of the in-migrants, no policy was needed to address their influx. Rotterdam was used to hosting a great number of foreigners, although these were transit passengers who used the city as a port of call on their way to the New World. The emigrants, however, were perceived as unsavoury, especially the large numbers of Eastern European Jews. The city government aimed to reduce the contact between migrants and Rotterdammers and wanted them to be separated from the rest of the population, thereby reducing the risk of epidemic diseases. The Holland-America Line, which was the largest transatlantic company and shipped more than a million passengers from the time it started business in 1873, established a private migrant hotel isolated from the rest of the city, which was situated opposite to the line's wharf. The company's hotel worked as a "quarantine zone", as infected immigrants could remain there during the period prescribed by the Quarantine Regulations (Zevenbergen 1990; Van de Laar 2016).

In 1913, more than 80,000 people embarked in Rotterdam. The vast majority came from Russia and Austria-Hungary in a timely escape just before the outbreak of World War I. After 1918, emigration from Russia almost stopped; Poland and Czechoslovakia were then the main countries of emigration. Rotterdam had a great need for a larger quarantine complex, as the Holland-America Line's provisions were unable to accommodate large numbers of migrants suffering from smallpox, typhoid or cholera. A new place was therefore built to house these immigrants, which was located a great distance from the inner-city in a remote dock area. Once the vast complex was complete, the heydays of transatlantic passenger traffic were over because of stricter US immigration laws in the 1920s.

The first real challenges for the city government started with the outbreak of World War I, when Rotterdam provided shelter to 23,000 Belgians who had escaped the Great War in October 1914. The people of the city welcomed them, and 4500 private households provided temporary shelter. The majority (18,000) left within a month, to the great relief of Chief Constable A. H. Sirks, who was afraid that a large concentration of Belgian refugees would inevitably lead to a confrontation with the many Germans in the city. Due to return migration, the number of Belgians fell sharply, but rose again in early 1915 to about 9000 by the end of World War I (Leenders and Orth-Sanders 1992; De Roodt 1998).

As the war dragged on, trade and shipping came to a virtual standstill. Food was scarce and many Rotterdammers lost their jobs. Tensions arose between Belgians and locals. Rotterdam's newspapers fuelled the hostile atmosphere by printing letters to the editor from angry townspeople who felt they were disadvantaged as the Belgians had "stolen" their jobs, which is an argument that is much heard in today's political circles. On the other hand, some critics wrote glowing reports about how the Belgians enriched urban cultural life and how Belgian appearances in popular cafés and dancing halls embellished the city's nightlife. Real open hostility between Rotterdammers and the Belgians did not occur, with most reconciling themselves to their presence.

Other nationalities also came to the city; some were deserters and others were prisoners of war interned in the neutral Netherlands after the start of the war who stayed in Rotterdam until the peace treaty was signed in 1918. German officers enjoyed certain privileges; the first arrivals received a festive welcome, benefitting from the strong German-Rotterdam network that was established in the last third of the nineteenth century. At the end of the war, Rotterdam housed about 3500 Russians. Initially, this group consisted mainly of Russians who had fled German captivity. After 1917, compatriots who tried to escape the effect of the Russian Revolution joined them. The relationship between Rotterdammers and Russians was less friendly. In general, the former were more sceptical towards the latter compared to attitudes towards refugees from other nationalities, with a common complaint being that aggressive and drunken Russians were flirting with Rotterdam girls. Sirks put safety measures in place and housed the Russians in temporary camps where they stayed until they returned home after 1918.

#### **2.3.6.3 The Chinese Community**

There were very few foreigners in Rotterdam before World War II, but even small numbers could have a major impact on the port city. This was especially the case with Chinese migrants. Rotterdam had a "China Town" in the Katendrecht district, an artificial port peninsula on the south bank of the River Maas situated between Rijnhaven and Maashaven. Right from the start, Katendrecht was designed as a residential area for casual labourers and transient people in general, including overseas migrants awaiting passage elsewhere. The first Chinese migrants settled there in 1911, when they were employed as strike-breakers during the international seamen's strike. The largest Dutch line-shipping firms wanted to continue their employment and in 1927 more than 3000 Chinese serviced the Dutch fleet, in particular as oilers and stokers.

Katendrecht became the largest Chinese colony in the Netherlands. A majority had to live in appalling conditions, but the city government did not feel obliged to act on their behalf. Even Rotterdam's Socialists were convinced that the Chinese were stealing the jobs of Dutch sailors and were also unwilling to back their cause. During the Global Depression of 1929, many Chinese seafarers fell into unemployment. Some moved on to other places like Hamburg or went overseas, but a majority stayed in Rotterdam. In the 1930s, an estimated 2500 Chinese lived in Katendrecht. The isolated position of this segregated area encouraged the mixing of Chinese with local residents, which was evidenced by a considerable number of intermarriages. Girls from Katendrecht considered marriage to a Chinese entrepreneur to be a chance of upwards mobility, particularly when it involved those Chinese who had opened a Chinese restaurant, shop or boarding house. However, apart from successful Chinese businessmen, the socio-economic position of the majority of the Chinese seafaring community did not improve. Unemployed Chinese were considered a burden on Rotterdam society and were, consequently, treated with disrespect, particularly those who roamed the streets of inner-city Rotterdam in the 1930s selling typical Chinese peanut cakes and shouting: "Peanut peanut, tasty, tasty 5 ct." The appearance of these poor Chinese vendors was grist to the mill of Rotterdam's Chief Constable, Louis Einthoven, who was Sirks' successor. Einthoven pursued a resettlement program for the Chinese in Katendrecht, and from 1936 onwards, old and poor Chinese were transported to Hong Kong. In 1939, Einthoven happily concluded that Rotterdam no longer had "a Chinese problem" (Vervloesem 2009, 2012).

#### **2.4 Part III: Post-War Diversity**

#### *2.4.1 Selective Migration*

In May 1940, a German terror bombardment swept away the inner city of Rotterdam. A raging sea of fire lasted for days and turned the historical centre into tatters. Rotterdam decided not to restore the city, but to build a new modernist version of it after the war. The modernist program became embedded in an urban welfare program, promoting Rotterdam as a city meeting the greatest challenges in its history. Post-war Rotterdam was shaped by an irrevocable working class mentality where diligence, doggedness and daringness were to be leading features. Together, the workers of Rotterdam would build a modern city centre and industrial port and their city would become the Socialist centre of the entire Randstad conurbation (Van de Laar 2013). However, in order to build this new city and expand its industries, Rotterdam needed migrants who were willing to do the heavy, dirty, irregular and relatively poorly paid work. As a result of labour shortages, the indigenous population flowed to well-paid jobs, while dockworkers, longshoremen, shipbuilders and industrial labourers had to be recruited from elsewhere. Rotterdam companies first sought workers in the region and other parts of the Netherlands, but the search for labour outside the country started in the mid-1950s, especially in the Mediterranean area.

Data from 1961 give an impression of the number of foreign guest-workers living in Rotterdam. According to official figures, there were very few foreign workers: there were no more than 1300 in that year. Then, between 1961 and 1975, this number increased to just over 23,000, equating to less than 3% of the population. Table 2.8 shows the share of the main migrant groups over a 14-year period.

Italians were among the first large groups of post-war foreign workers, but from the early 1960s relatively fewer Italians migrated to Rotterdam and their position was taken over by migrants from Spain. Sixty-five percent of foreigners had come from Spain between 1961 and 1965, but this share dropped to just below 20% in


**Table 2.8** Share of foreign labourers in Rotterdam (1961, 1965, 1970, and 1975) in percentages

Source: Verzameling (1971) 279E, 34 and Gemeentelijk Bureau voor de Statistiek (1975) (Rotterdam Statistical Bureau)

a Including migrants from Cape Verde

1975, when many decided to re-migrate. Turks were the largest group of guestworkers in 1975, while the share of Moroccan labour migrants increased from the 1970s onwards. Rotterdam also became a place of recruitment and settlement for sailors from Cape Verde, a former colony of Portugal. These maritime-based relations formed the basis of a large Cape Verdean community in Rotterdam, with these migrants later moving to other places in north-west Europe. Migrants from Turkey, the former Yugoslavia and, to a lesser degree, Morocco were recruited on the basis of bi-national agreements between the Dutch national government and officials in the Mediterranean countries that lasted until the early 1970s, when the oil crisis and economic depression reduced the need for cheap foreign labourers. Guest-workers were not expected to settle permanently and integration was not a policy goal. Indeed, several official documents published by the Rotterdam city government described why, in its view, integration could be counter-productive. Once integrated, it was claimed, migrants would probably be unwilling to continue working as cheap labourers mopping floors or doing all the dirty jobs that the Dutch refused to do. Integration would, therefore, lead to an increase of new guest-workers and should be slowed down. Foreigners should also not live in the same neighbourhoods as Rotterdammers, with guest-workers housed in hostels segregated from the "normal" population, so that "the neighbourhood population is not confronted with the presence of a large contingent of foreign workers and the undesirable consequences of this, such as an influx of prostitutes (...)" (quoted in Van de Laar 2000, p. 530).

Inter-ethnic tensions in the neighbourhood Afrikaanderwijk (1972) precluded a differentiation in migration and integration policies. This area of Rotterdam belonged to a series of working class neighbourhoods built at the turn of twentieth century in Rotterdam-South as a typical place of arrival for the new urban classes working in the port city. Dissatisfied residents, themselves second or third generation migrants who were unable to benefit from the welfare state and rising wages, had left the city. Those who stayed were unable to leave their neighbourhoods and complained about the disintegration of social-cultural homogeneity as a result of the settlement of guest-workers. There were still very few of them in the early 1970s, but they were concentrated in a number of streets in houses owned by a Turkish slum landlord who turned them into Turkish guest-houses. His nickname was "King of the Turks". In the summer of 1972, Rotterdam hotheads entered one of the hostels and threw all the furniture onto the street, loudly encouraged by bystanders. Over the days that followed, the disturbance spread to other parts of the neighbourhood. What began as a neighbourhood quarrel against the slum landlord ended in a series of street fights. Indeed, for a few days, the neighbourhood turned into a battlefield. The riot police arrived and Mayor Wim Thomassen interrupted his August holiday to appease the rioters.

The Afrikaanderwijk was front-page news for a couple of days. Radio and television reporters focused on the discriminatory actions of the native Rotterdammers, but the riots cannot simply be seen as a precursor to the rise of the extreme right movements in the 1980s. One of the Dutch Social Democratic community workers who tried to establish a multicultural working group in the neighbourhood declared later that he was puzzled because the rioters themselves had a migration background: their fathers and mothers, as documented by Bouman and Bouman, had migrated to the port city and were employed as dock-workers (Dekker and Senstius 2001). The rioters expressed their impotence and dissatisfaction with a city council that had ignored their complaints about social housing conditions and the often very poor state of their homes. Undoubtedly, this impotence and dissatisfaction also contributed to the fact that residents in the old neighbourhoods had a less tolerant attitude towards foreigners. In hindsight, this period was a flash in the pan and not the result of racist activities, but the incidents had a major impact on migration policies in Rotterdam, nonetheless: the city adopted a policy of the forced dispersion of migrants in neighbourhoods containing more than 5% of foreigners. However, these measures conflicted with the Dutch Constitution, as confirmed by the Dutch State Council.

The influx of large groups of foreign guest-workers after 1945 is often compared to the migration process that took place at the end of the nineteenth century. The major difference between the late nineteenth century and post-war migration is that there was a migration shortage for domestic migrants in the 1960s and a migration surplus until the intake stabilized in the early 1980s. People leaving Rotterdam had a different ethnic and social-cultural background than the new immigrants. While the Rotterdammers left the city *en masse* – population figures fell from 731,000 in 1965 to 613,000 10 years later – their homes in the nineteenth century neighbourhoods, once migration areas themselves, became residential areas for guest-workers.

At the end of the 1970s, the city government acknowledged that many guest labourers were not going to return to their country of origin. Rotterdam thus needed a serious integration policy in order to improve the social and economic status of the migrants (Dekker and Senstius 2001, p. 67). Integration policies meant focusing on employment, housing conditions and education. The former guest-workers were now considered to be members of a minority group. Assimilation was not a goal in itself, but the integration of minority communities into Rotterdam society was an aim.

#### **2.5 Conclusion**

Sailors, soldiers and tradesmen from all parts of Europe have found their way to Rotterdam from the sixteenth century onwards. In addition to military and maritime trade-based migration patterns, the Dutch Republic's relative degree of religious and political tolerance encouraged further settlement through existing trade and commercial networks. Even small minority groups were able to have a decisive influence on the receiving city. The international merchant and refugee network, which was composed of French and British scholars, turned Rotterdam into an early centre of Enlightenment in the seventeenth century. These international communities contributed to Rotterdam's expansion during the Dutch Golden Age. It is therefore no surprise that, when the city's economy declined after 1750, it was no longer a preferred destination for leading merchants. The sample data show that Rotterdam attracted relatively poorer migrants, particularly from Germany. However, this migration pattern changed during the last third of the nineteenth century, when entrepreneurial Germans used their Rhine connections to push Rotterdam's modernisation. Pre-modern Rotterdam was highly mobile and diverse and many foreign migrants contributed to the city's welfare.

The grand narrative of Rotterdam as a "City of Migration" has eclipsed its premodern migration history. In the last third of the nineteenth century, thousands of landless labourers moved to Rotterdam, joining a growing workforce of construction workers and dock-workers, which was, generally, a group of casual labourers shaping the industrial port landscape. This narrative of the arrival and integration of migrants is inexorably linked to that of the working city. Boomtown Rotterdam gained the reputation of being a restless, assiduous city, always on the run and continually showing a "down to work" mentality. The offspring of these migrants ultimately found their place in the receiving society, but new quantitative research shows that assimilation was not an easy process.

Rotterdam's long-term historical perspective shows differences between premodern and modern society. As a matter of fact, Rotterdam in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was more diverse than in the nineteenth century. The share of foreign migrants was low, which is in great contrast to contemporary Rotterdam. As most long-term migration patterns were based on earlier pre-modern pathdependencies and maritime networks, the presence of foreign migrants at that time was not interpreted as a threat to society. The control of migrants was part of a general urban policy to reduce the numbers of poor people unable to support themselves and who could not rely on charity. Financial considerations were, for the city government, more important than ethnicity. The integration of many inland migrants became a big challenge for Rotterdam after 1850. Their rural background created another kind of diversity that was also spatially related. Rotterdam-South was, in this sense, a "place of otherness", defined as an ambiguous place associated with negative characteristics: sites of crime, drunkenness, crisis, deviant people, casual dockers and migrants from the rural provinces. It is therefore no coincidence that the Chinese community settled on the waterfront in Katendrecht, which was an isolated port peninsula that fitted well within Rotterdam's port narrative. Apart from the temporary presence of transnational migrants, who used Rotterdam as a port of embarkation, the city's pre-World War II experiences with foreign diversity were based on refugees who had escaped the Great War and, apart from the Chinese communities, very small groups like the Italian-speaking Swiss.

Rotterdam's nineteenth century's port city was not superdiverse and its modernist narrative was not based on experiences of earlier forms of successful migration. The legacy of Bouman and Bouman, however, fitted well within a new discourse on the city's modernity. The offspring of Rotterdam's nineteenth century rural-urban migrants had rebuilt the city after the fatal German bombardment in May 1940 and celebrated the expansion of its port. In fact, the success of the reconstruction and postwar expansion period can be reinterpreted as the completion of a migration narrative that started with their ancestors, who had created the new port city. The new generation laid the foundations for Rotterdam's post-war modernisation, and their work mentality was celebrated at great length. These Rotterdammers were cited as an example for all Dutch labourers. Urban planners put this identity of energetic Rotterdam to good use, missing no opportunity to promote the ideal modernist welfare city in the 1950s and 1960s (Van de Laar 2013). This nineteenth century migration narrative could have been integrated in Rotterdam's narrative of a welfare city. However, the major cultural changes in the 1960s and 1970s, when Rotterdam's social-cultural landscape altered drastically, did not fit within this representation of the city's migration history. The chapters in this book (in particular by Van Houdt & Schinkel) help to explain why it has not been possible to link earlier migration narratives to Rotterdam's superdiversity. Notwithstanding Rotterdam's past as a city of migration, its pre-modern diversity and its urban culture, the political turn initiated by Pim Fortuyn and his Party Liveable Rotterdam in 2002 made this impossible. As a result of Rotterdam's superdiversity today, its migration past has become part of a contested history. With Rotterdam's migration narrative as a leading principle, the city government would have had to accept that the marginalisation of people is part of the story of an arrival city. According to the social concepts of superdiversity, however, integration becomes more complex when there is no clear majority. As a consequence, an integration policy of superdiversity is not compatible with a vision in which Rotterdam – pushed by strong marketing efforts – wants to rebalance its population, making it more attractive to middle-classes. Since then, Rotterdam's new urban government-led gentrification programs have been motivated by a politics of "urban revanchism" (Uitermark and Duyvendak 2008), in which there is no room for "happy diversity."

#### **References**

Bonke, H. (1996). *De kleyne mast van de Hollandse coopsteden – Stadsontwikkeling in Rotterdam 1572–1795*. Hilversum: Stichting Amsterdamse Historische Reeks/Verloren.

Bots, H. (1982). Pierre Bayle en de Rotterdamse Illustre School 1681–1693. In *Rotterdams Jaarboekje* (pp. 177–201). Stadsarchief Rotterdam.


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## **Chapter 3 The Second and Third Generation in Rotterdam: Increasing Diversity Within Diversity**

**Maurice Crul, Frans Lelie, and Elif Keskiner**

#### **3.1 Introduction**

According to the city's statistics, Rotterdam passed the threshold of becoming a majority-minority city in 2015, meaning that the people of Dutch descent now are a numerical minority. In the Netherlands the official definition of *a person of Dutch descent* is someone born in the Netherlands whose both parents are also born in the Netherlands. The estimation is that in 2030 in Rotterdam people of Dutch descent will only represent 40% of the city's population (Gemeente Rotterdam 2012). This 40% is obviously not an ethnically homogeneous group, since it also includes people whose grandparents migrated to the Netherlands, the third generation.

A recent publication of the city council (Gemeente Rotterdam 2018) clearly depicts the fluidity of Rotterdam's population. People born in Rotterdam whose parents are also Rotterdam natives only make up 9% of the population. A quarter of the population (23%) is born in Rotterdam while their parents were not, and by far the largest share of this 23% has parents or grandparents who came as migrants. The remaining part – the vast majority of Rotterdam's population – are people who are not born in Rotterdam. They either moved there from another city in the Netherlands or came from another country.

The previous chapter of this book concluded describing postwar labour migration to the harbor city. This included people from Spain, Italy, Turkey, Morocco and the Cape Verdean Islands. The migrant groups presently representing the largest ethnic minority groups in Rotterdam are, in order of numbers, people of Surinamese, Turkish, Moroccan, Antillean and Cape Verdean origin. Rotterdam's Cape Verdean community is the largest in the world outside the Cape Verdean Islands. These groups mostly migrated between the 1960s and the 1980s. The people from Surinam and the Antilles migrated as a result of the decolonization process around that time.

M. Crul (\*) · F. Lelie · E. Keskiner

Free University Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: m.r.j.crul@vu.nl; f.lelie@vu.nl; e.keskiner@vu.nl

P. Scholten et al. (eds.), *Coming to Terms with Superdiversity*, IMISCOE Research Series, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-96041-8\_3


**Table 3.1** Five largest migrant groups in Rotterdam, according to generation, in absolute numbers

Source: OBI, Gemeente Rotterdam (2017)

In the wake of independence, many Surinamese and Antillean people decided to opt for the Netherlands while this was still possible (Table 3.1).

Over the past decades, new migrant groups started coming to Rotterdam. The share of European migrants among the total number of people migrating to the city is rising most sharply. In total they now make up 8% of the population, similar to the size of the long-established group of Surinamese descent. A first new wave of European migrants came after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. More recent extensions of the EU to the East actually gave a further push to make Rotterdam a majority-minority city. Newly arrived people from Poland form the fastest growing group in Rotterdam (Boom et al. 2014, 5), but still only account for 1.1% of the population (idem, 4). Over the last decades, people also increasingly come from countries further away from Europe: especially Sub-Saharan Africa and the Middle East. Also, there is an increasing number of people that came as refugees, for instance from Iraq and Somalia (Boom et al. 2014, 4). More recent, due to the financial crisis, there is migration from South European countries like Spain and Italy. These migrants are usually still young and most of them do not yet have families.

The most unsteadfast group in the city is formed by the people of Dutch descent. They move to the city for study and work in large numbers but leave the city in equal numbers too. In the year 2013 alone, about 12,000 people of Dutch descent left Rotterdam, while an equal number entered the city. This means that the whole population of Dutch descent has a turnover rate of slightly more than 10 years (Boom et al. 2014, 8). Of course, a part of these people of Dutch descent is steadfast in Rotterdam, but there are also many people in this group who only stay in Rotterdam for a shorter period. In contrast, the children of the five migrant groups that came in the 1960s and 1970s as labour-migrants and the children from the former colonies form the most established and stable groups in the city. Children and grandchildren of first generation migrants are very loyal inhabitants. They usually stay for their studies and also choose Rotterdam as the place to start their own family. They are strongly rooted in Rotterdam because most of their close family lives there too. Rotterdam neighborhoods like Delftshaven, Charlois or Feyenoord are the neighborhoods where these groups now already live for three generations.

Children or grandchildren of the five largest migrant groups today make up more than a third (already 40% in 2010) of all children under age 15 in Rotterdam (Entzinger and Scheffer 2012). They are equal in number to the youth of Dutch descent (39% of children under age 15 in 2010). Together with children of other

non-western migrants, the children of the five largest migrant groups form the majority of children in Rotterdam (53% under age 15 in 2010).

In this chapter we will look at how the position of the second and third generation of these five largest post war migrant groups has evolved in relation to the first generation. We will pay a bit more attention to the two most disadvantaged groups, people of Turkish and Moroccan descent. They exemplify why we believe that a 'superdiversity lens' is needed to clarify the developments in the city. One of the main premises of superdiversity is that, next to looking at ethnicity, we need to look at other, equally important, groupings. For instance, based on the education level, labour market position or income position of people in the city. In this chapter we will show that the diversity *within* the group of Turkish and Moroccan descent is increasing over generations, leading to strong within-group differences in the socio- economic position of the second and third generation. This fundamentally questions whether it is still academically useful to analyze all kinds of social and economic phenomena in the city through the ethnic lens, or if a 'superdiversity lens' is more appropriate.

#### **3.2 The Pioneering First Generation**

The official figures published to depict the socio-economic situation in Rotterdam for migrants of the first generation always include both people who came as the pioneering generation, those who came as the first of their group, as well as those who came more recently to Rotterdam, new migrants from that same country of origin. There are no figures available from the city's statistical bureau that show the pioneering first generation separately. Therefore, one should keep in mind that the figures we present in Table 3.2 below include both the pioneers who might live in Rotterdam since decades as well as a first generation of recent migrants. However, these official figures give an indication of the differences between the various first generation groups. Table 3.2 shows the educational level divided up in three categories: low, middle and high. *Low* here means primary school or less and the lowest levels of vocational education. *Middle* represents senior vocational education or an upper secondary diploma. *High* represents a higher education diploma.

Overall the figures show that the first generation is low educated. The majority only finished education at the lowest levels. The Moroccan and Turkish first generation acquired their schooling mostly in their country of origin. The older Surinamese and Antillean first generation mostly attended a Dutch curriculum due


**Table 3.2** Educational level of the first generation, according to ethnic groups in Rotterdam

Source: Gemeente Rotterdam (2017)


**Table 3.3** Education of the parents of the second generation Turkish and Moroccan respondents, TIES Survey in Rotterdam

Source: TIES Survey 2008

to the colonial relationship at that time. The figures clearly show that the first generation of Moroccan and Turkish descent is the lowest educated, while first generation Surinamese migrants are relatively the highest educated. The oldest cohort of the Turkish and Moroccan first generation came to the Netherlands in the 1960s and 1970s to work in shipyards and factories. They were followed by their wives and young children about 8–10 years later. The oldest cohort of the first generation of Antillean and Surinamese descent largely came in the 1970s and 1980s. They were much better educated than the early Moroccans and Turks. The very first Surinamese and Antillean migrants were actually often students coming to the Netherlands to enroll in higher education unavailable in their home countries.

For this chapter we will also frequently use data from the 2008 TIES survey for Rotterdam.1 We use the TIES survey, even though it is 10 years old, because it is the only survey where the first and the second generation in Rotterdam can be linked to each other at the city level (Crul et al. 2012). The TIES survey sampled second generation Turkish and Moroccan respondents representatively according to their numbers in neighborhoods in Rotterdam. Through the respondents detailed information about their parents was also obtained. This makes the TIES survey the only large-scale survey in Rotterdam providing detailed information of the pioneering first generation separately and enabling an assessment of the intergenerational mobility from the first to the second generation. The TIES survey reveals that the majority of the fathers and mothers of the first generation were even lower educated than Table 3.2 suggests. They only attended primary school or did not go to school at all, which is true especially for many of the mothers. The somewhat better outcomes in Table 3.2 are the result of the new first generation, who often come as a marriage partner for a second generation spouse and who usually are much better educated than the pioneering first generation who came in the 1960s and 1970s (Table 3.3).

<sup>1</sup> 'The Integration of the European Second generation' (TIES). The TIES survey was conducted in 15 cities in 8 countries and involved almost 10,000 respondents between the ages of 18 and 35. In each city, 250 respondents from each target group were interviewed. In the Netherlands, the interviews were conducted in Amsterdam and Rotterdam.

#### **3.3 The Second Generation Inherits the City**

The second generation of Surinamese, Turkish and Moroccans descent are almost equal in size and are the largest ethnic groups in Rotterdam (see Table 3.1). Only between 5% and 10% of the youngsters under age 23 of Surinamese, Turkish and Moroccans descent belongs to the first generation (Boom et al. 2014, 11). This is different for youngsters under age 23 of Antillean descent: about a third of them belong to the first generation (Idem, 11). The youngsters of Cape Verdean descent form the fifth largest youth group in Rotterdam, close in number to the Antillean youth group.

Children of immigrants from Eastern European countries are now also a fastgrowing group, with children from Polish and Bulgarian descent being the most numerous (Engbersen 2014, 7). About half of these children of Polish descent and only a third of the children of Bulgarian descent are born in the Netherlands and belong to the second generation (Boom et al. 11).

As mentioned in the introduction, the largest group of people born in Rotterdam are children of immigrants. Quoting Phil Kasinitz and his colleagues (2008) on the same trend in New York City, we can say that these children of the second generations will inherit their neighborhoods and, to a certain extent, the city of Rotterdam.

The increased diversification of ethnic groups in the city is reflected most clearly in elementary and secondary schools. Class rooms with pupils of 15 or more different ethnic origins have become more rule than exception. The differentiation in generations has also become more pronounced. Third generation Turkish-Dutch pupils now grow up side by side with first generation Polish pupils. This *simultaneity*, as Arnaut names it, is also an important characteristic for the superdiverse reality in today's big cities (Arnaut 2012).

#### **3.4 Diversity Within Ethnic Groups**

Next to a growing diversity of ethnic groups in the city we see an increased diversity *within* ethnic groups. This diversity is becoming most visible in the second generation and will be even more visible in the third. The general idea of assimilation theories is that ethnic groups as a whole follow a possible upward *or* downward pathway (Portes and Rumbaut 2001). The emphasis is usually on ethnic and socio-economic characteristics of the first generation that influence the type and/or speed of these pathways. Compared to the first generation Moroccan and Turkish migrants, the Surinamese and Antillean first generation was much more socio-economically diverse to start with (Van Niekerk 2007). Both lower educated as well as higher educated Surinamese and Antilleans migrated to Rotterdam. Within the first generation Antillean group, also many (42%) have a partner from another ethnic origin, mostly Dutch (Entzinger and Scheffer 2012, 121). The children of mixed marriages belong, according to the official definition used by Dutch statistical bureaus, to the Antillean ethnic group, thus actually adding to the diversity in the second generation. The blurring of ethnic boundaries through mixed marriages is an important new phenomenon not yet properly dealt with in statistics. School- and labour market outcomes for the second generation Antilleans indeed show polarized outcomes reflecting the already existing differences in the first generation, but even more pronounced. A considerable group is able to reach a middle-class position, but an equally large group seems to be in a rather precarious position. Young males of Antillean descent are overrepresented in crime statistics, while young females are overrepresented in the group of teenage single mothers. Of the male youngsters, 11% is registered as being suspected of a crime (idem, 50) and 14% of the Antillean-Dutch women between 15 and 20 already has a child (mostly being a single mother) (Boom et al. 2010, 15). About half of the Antillean-Dutch households with children are single mother households in Rotterdam (idem, 65). The polarization within the Antillean-Dutch group is maybe best visible in secondary education. Almost a quarter (24%) of the pupils of Antillean descent are enrolled in a form of special education, the lowest tracks, (*bijzonder onderwijs* or *praktijk onderwijs*), which is five times more than pupils of Dutch descent (Boom et al., 2). The poor results of these Antillean-Dutch pupils can be partly explained by the large share that entered the Dutch school system at a later age due to recent migration. At the same time, an equally large group (27%) is found on the highest, pre-academic tracks (Havo/Vwo).

The second generation Surinamese are counted as one ethnic group but are ethnically very diverse. The largest ethnic group within the Surinamese group in Rotterdam are children whose great-grandparents originally came from the Indian subcontinent. The second largest group are the descendants from people brought to Surinam as slaves from West Africa. Much smaller groups have Chinese roots or have their roots in Java in Indonesia (Oudhof et al. 2011, 101). The statistical data about the Surinamese second generation in Rotterdam are scarce, partly because there are less problems in this group compared to the Antillean second generation. In the Surinamese second and third generation the balance is more tilted towards the successful group. For instance, more than a third of the Surinamese-Dutch pupils are enrolled in the highest tracks of secondary education while only 10% are found in the two special education tracks (Boom et al. 2014, 22). They still do show an overrepresentation in the category of people with low levels of education compared to their peers of Dutch descent (30% versus 17%), but the gap (13%) is much smaller than that with the Antillean-Dutch pupils (gap of 33%) or the Turkish-Dutch pupils (gap of 22%). Looking at the size of the Surinamese-Dutch population in Rotterdam, the actual share of students in Higher Education (Hbo and University) of Surinamese descent is equally big as that of Rotterdam youngsters of Dutch descent. Many Surinamese-Dutch students are following the middle level track in high school and then continue onto middle vocational education and then move onto


**Table 3.4** Educational level of the second generation Turkish and Moroccan respondents, TIES Survey in Rotterdam

Source: TIES Survey 2008

higher vocational education to earn a bachelor degree. On many indicators concerning choices in life the Surinamese second generation makes similar choices as their peers of Dutch descent, like for instance the age of having their first child or the choice to move out of the city to satellite towns. But, also in terms of identifying as Dutch: the Surinamese second generation does that to almost the same extent as their peers of Dutch descent (Scheffer and Entzinger 2012).

The story of both the Turkish and the Moroccan second generation is very different from that of the Surinamese or Antillean second generation. Here, the main trend is upward social mobility compared to their parents because their parents where overall very low educated. For the children of these two groups of labour migrants we will use the outcomes of the TIES survey in Rotterdam, which allows us a much more detailed picture of the second generation than the limited administrative data we have for the second generation Surinamese and Antilleans.

According to segmented assimilation theory the low socio-economic position of the parents predicts a downward trajectory in the second generation, with only modest social mobility for the majority of the group and a substantial group that is at risk. However, the actual situation in the second generation is different: a considerable group has attained higher education (See Table 3.2). The group of early school leavers is, however, also considerable. If anything, the second generation is characterized by a strong polarization in their school outcomes (Table 3.4).

The TIES survey allows us to analyse intergenerational social mobility patterns. In the case of the Moroccan parents we find no significant effects of differences in educational levels of the parents on the education of their children. However, we have to keep in mind that the first generation Moroccan parents were indeed, overall, very low educated which leaves little room for variation. For the Turkish group we do find significant differences in the outcomes, both in relation to the education of the mother (P\*\*\* < 0.01), as well as of the father (P\*\*\* < 0.01). The variation in the education of the Turkish first generation is larger. The older cohort of first generation Turkish fathers and mothers more often did not go to school, while the younger first generation Turks more often went to primary school and followed some years of secondary school. Keskiner (2015) argues that social class differences among first generation Turkish migrant parents have emerged over time. She shows how first generation Turkish migrant parents that arrived in the Netherlands as adolescents and received some years of training, became more encouraging for their children's education. So, over time the parental education of the first generation became more varied and, mostly, improved, and, as a result, the support parents could give has changed. In the Moroccan first generation we do not see such a clear improvement in educational level of the first generation parents, but we do see a different mentality developing towards education over time. First generation parents become more involved in the school affairs of their children. Our data suggest that the younger cohort of the second generation (between 18 and 25) receives much more educational support of the parents compared to the older cohort (26–35). They get considerably more help with homework, parents more often control time spent on homework, more often talk about the importance of school and more often meet with the teacher.

Not only the first generation parents have changed in their attitudes and practices over time, but also the structural conditions have changed. Pre-school facilities had for instance improved. In the younger cohort of the Turkish second generation we see a significant increase (P\*\*\* < 0.01) in pre-school attendance. In the group of Moroccan descent, we do not find a significant effect for the younger age cohort. Also, schools have started to become better prepared for teaching children of immigrants: Second language classes were introduced and extra funding was provided to schools with large proportions of immigrant children. This money was mostly used to bring down the class size (Crul 2001). As a result of all these measures together we see twice as many children entering secondary school at the highest level (Vwo) in the younger age cohorts of the second generation. The individual changes together with the structural changes result in a significant increase of respondents in higher education among the younger age cohort: a 15% increase in the younger cohort of the Turkish second generation and an 11% increase in the Moroccan younger cohort (18–25) compared to the older cohorts of the second generation between 25 and 35. Pertaining to a different age cohort thus impacts the diversity *within* the second generation.

The TIES survey also allows us to see what happens next for the two second generation groups that end up at the opposite end of the educational ladder. The TIES survey shows that the large differences in educational attainment within the second generation on their turn propel a further dynamic through the partner choice. Young second generation adults that have acquired a higher education diploma more often marry a high educated partner while early school leavers more often marry low educated partners. These partner choices result in big differences between the employment situations of both partners and, as a consequence, the income situation in their households. Changing gender roles play an important role here. Among the higher educated respondents, gender roles change dramatically compared to their parents, while the low educated second generation mostly reproduces the traditional gender roles of their parents (see also Crul et al. 2013). Those in possession of a higher education diploma either marry someone who is also higher educated (38%

for the Turkish second generation and 27% for the Moroccan second generation) or has middle-level educational qualifications (29% and 47% respectively). In the majority of these couples both partners enter the labour market, resulting in a double income. This allows them to buy an apartment or rent in the private sector. They have the opportunity to leave the working-class neighborhood of their parents. Their children will go to schools in a middle-class neighborhood and at home they will have the resources of well-educated families (Crul et al. 2013).

The story of the upwardly mobile group resembles what is often understood as the classical form of assimilation over time. Nevertheless, we also see a second trend that is certainly at odds with classical assimilation: The early school leavers move into the opposite direction. They often (60% in the case of the Turkish second generation and 32% in the case of the Moroccan second generation) marry someone who is also an early school leaver. The men occupy, at best, the same position as their fathers, but the risk of being unemployed is nowadays actually much bigger for them. Their female marriage partner, frequently newly arriving from Turkey or Morocco, is often not working but taking care of the children full time. This means that in these households there is, at best, only one income and generally this income is not very substantial. Many second generation women who are early school leavers reproduce the position of their mother. In the case of female early school leavers from Turkish descent less than half (48%) is active on the labour market, while this is true for about two third (63%) of the Moroccan female early school leavers. They often marry someone from their parents' birth country (76% of the partners are born in Turkey and 68% are born in Morocco) and many of them are low educated. The chances for that person to get a job are bleak. In the couples in the Turkish group about a quarter of the male partners (27%) who were born in Turkey has no paid job and of the partners born in Moroccan it is more than a third (38%). The places where they can afford to live are limited to social housing areas in the most deprived neighborhoods. Their children will go to the worst performing schools of the city. The opportunities for third generation children in this group actually look worse than for the second generation.

In traditional assimilation theories, differences in social mobility patterns are explained through differences in group averages between different ethnic groups and/or the majority group. Assimilation theories put a big emphasis on ethnic and socio-economic background characteristics of the first generation. We indeed found important effects for the background characteristics of the first generation. But we also found that a substantial part of the *within-group differences* in the second and third generation is the result of an accumulation of outcomes that are the direct result of choices that the high educated second generation made differently than their less successful peers. For instance, marrying a high educated partner and the choice of women to participate in the labour market. These choices, strongly motivated by educational success, form an often-overlooked part in the explanation of within-group differences.

In the next two paragraphs we will see how this increased socio-economic diversity within the second generation affects other integration indicators, like their outlook on gender equality, sexuality or their religious practices. We can only do this for the Turkish and Moroccan second generation based on the available TIES data in Rotterdam; for their Surinam-Dutch and Antillean-Dutch peers, we have no comparable data.

#### **3.5 Polarization in the Turkish and Moroccan Second Generation: Progressive Views on Gender Equality and Sexuality Versus New Forms of Conservative and Religious Orthodoxies**

In the previous paragraph we described the subgroup of Turkish-Dutch and Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers that marry early, mostly with someone from the country of migration of their parents. We will now look more in-depth at what sort of attitudes and opinions early school leavers in the Turkish and Moroccan second generation hold towards topics like sexuality, religion and social relations. In the group of early school leavers of Turkish descent, the general trend is that of withdrawal in their own ethnic group and a tendency towards conservative and orthodox religious opinions. The Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers show an opposite reaction. This group mixes a lot with people from other ethnic backgrounds than their own, generally has progressive views on sexuality and is the most unreligious group in the Moroccan community.

In the group of Turkish-Dutch early school leavers, the majority (54%) only has friends of Turkish descent among their three best friends; of their Moroccan-Dutch peers only 17% reports that their three best friends are of Moroccan descent. A quarter (26%) of the Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers says they do not have a religion, which is a three times higher percentage than for the Moroccan-Dutch group as a whole. In the Turkish-Dutch group of early school leavers it is also high (15%), but the difference with the whole group (10%) is much smaller. The religious Turkish-Dutch respondents, on the other hand, are also far more orthodox. Among Turkish-Dutch early school leavers, a third of the respondents (33%) states that religion should be represented in politics and society, while this is only true for 22% of the Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers. To the more extreme question whether religion should be "the ultimate political authority" is answered affirmatively by 22% of the Turkish-Dutch early school leavers, but only by 7% of their Moroccan-Dutch peers. A similar difference we find for questions on virginity before marriage. In the Turkish-Dutch group the majority answered that sex before marriage is never allowed, while this is only true for a third of their Moroccan-Dutch peers.

These big differences between early school leavers of Turkish descent and of Moroccan descent seems to be a specific Rotterdam phenomenon. In the TIES survey in Amsterdam these two groups show much more similar outcomes. One big difference between Rotterdam and Amsterdam seems to be that the second generation Moroccans in Rotterdam more often have lower educated friends of Dutch descent. One could say that they assimilate into the 'white' Rotterdam underclass. The fact that the lower-class population of Dutch descent in Rotterdam is significantly bigger than in Amsterdam makes this also more likely. According to the segmented assimilation theory (Portes and Rumbaut 2001), assimilating into the underclass results in marginalization and internalization of norms that deviate from the mainstream. The outcomes for the Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers, however, go against this: their secularization actually seems to go faster and they hold opinions, for instance about sexuality, that are in line with mainstream opinions in Dutch society (Crul 2015).

The proximity of lower-class 'white' Dutch people apparently triggers a different reaction among Turkish second generation early school leavers. They withdraw into their own ethnic group. This type of segmented assimilation, according to Portes and Rumbaut (2001), should lead to *upward* social mobility and a positive identification with both their own community and Dutch society. In this group, however, marginalization and adherence to orthodox norms that are at odds with mainstream notions on the separation of state and religion seem to be the stronger tendency.

In Rotterdam, the group of high educated second generation Turks and Moroccans is slightly bigger than the group of early school leavers. These successful young people play a key role in the future scenario of their communities. Especially high educated second generation women are fundamental for the emancipation of the group as a whole. For example, the vast majority of them rejects the statement that "women with young children should not work outside the home". Only 6% of the high educated Moroccan-Dutch women do agree to this statement, as do 15% of high educated Turkish-Dutch women. In comparison, 10% of the high educated women of Dutch descent agree to this statement. It is not surprising that high educated women are the greatest advocates of the idea that mothers of young children should also be able to work. After years of study, they want to cash in their efforts made. And indeed, in our Rotterdam sample we found that *all* the high educated women with a partner are active on the labour market. The common Dutch 'polder compromise' in the highly educated second generation families with young children is that the women work 3 or 4 days a week, just like their peers of native descent. The biggest rupture this high educated group is making with traditions of their ethnic community concerns the topic of family honor and virginity. Virginity before marriage is still considered to be the norm by low educated members of the Turkish second generation, but their high educated peers more openly demand the right to make decisions about their own sexuality. A large majority (61% of the Turkish-Dutch and 66% of the Moroccan-Dutch respondents) says that they find it acceptable to have sex before marriage, either "in any circumstances", or "subject to certain conditions". These young people all grew up in families of low educated labour migrants. With this statement they are quite strongly distancing themselves from the predominant traditional opinions about sexuality of their ethnic communities.

But among the high educated we also find considerable differences between the Turkish-Dutch and the Moroccan-Dutch group. In this case it is the Turkish-Dutch who more often state that they do not have a religion (12%), compared to only 5% of the Moroccan-Dutch high educated. Among the high educated Moroccan-Dutch group, 65% prays daily or even five times a day, while this only true for 16% in the high educated Turkish-Dutch group. When it comes to adhering to more orthodox religious statements, the high educated Moroccan-Dutch also more often do so. Of the high educated Turkish-Dutch respondents, 12% agrees to the statement that religion should be represented in politics and society, while 28% of the Moroccan-Dutch group does. The high educated Moroccan-Dutch respondents also more often have three best friends who are co-ethnics (21%) than the Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers (17%). In Amsterdam, we do not find the same trends among the high educated Moroccan second generation. The big difference between Rotterdam and Amsterdam is that in Rotterdam the high educated Moroccan second generation reports significantly (P\*\*\* < 0.01) more experiences of discrimination than their Amsterdam peers, even though in Amsterdam a bigger share of the high educated Moroccan second generation women wear headscarves, which is usually highly correlated with discrimination experiences. The political climate and the huge support for anti-immigrant party *Leefbaar Rotterdam* that especially targets people of Moroccan descent – about one in three voters of Dutch descent supports this party – are likely to be an important factor for the reactive identity we find among high educated Moroccan-Dutch respondents in Rotterdam.

#### **3.6 Future Scenario's**

The older cohort of the second generation of the four largest migrant groups who came to Rotterdam between the 1960s and 1980s are now adults and they are starting their own families. The socio-economic position of the so-called second generation is considered the litmus test whether or not the integration of migrants has been successful. On average the outcomes for the second generation still lag far behind those for the children of Dutch descent. The fact that in Rotterdam the population of Dutch descent is lower educated than, for instance, in Amsterdam makes closing the gap in Rotterdam somewhat easier (See also Entzinger in Chap. 9 of this volume). Average outcomes for the second generation leave an important trend unseen: polarization. A considerable group, between a quarter and a third, among the second generation is doing extremely well, especially taking the low starting position of most of their parents into account. Second generation Surinamese, Antillean, Moroccan and Turkish professionals are now young professionals working in position as teachers, dentists, lawyers, local policy makers or accomplished

businessmen in Rotterdam society. These young professionals often marry someone who is equally high educated and successful. In these households both partners work and their double income enables them to move out of the typical immigrant neighborhoods. Their children go to middle-class schools in the well-to-do neighborhoods of Rotterdam. However, their success story is contrasted by a considerable group within the second generation that lags behind. They left school without a diploma, often marry young and, also more often, marry a partner from the country of migration of their parents. As a result, in these households there is often a parent from the first generation. Also, there is at most one income from a low-wage job, though often these households depend entirely on benefits. These children grow up in majority-minority neighborhoods, where the people of Dutch descent form a tiny minority. These children often go to the worst-performing schools. This increased socio-economic diversity *within* ethnic groups is an important new reality of the superdiverse city of Rotterdam.

The children of immigrants, the second and the third generations, are inheriting the city of Rotterdam. They make up about two thirds of the Rotterdam population of the future. As a result, what is the future of Rotterdam? We have shown that the most prominent trend *within* the second generation is polarization. The group that was able to move up into the lower and upper middle-class is equally large – or for some ethnic groups even larger – as the group in the working class. The question is whether it will be the lower-class group determining the direction the city is moving to, or the more successful group. The high educated second generations seem to lead the emancipation of women. They are the first to break away from traditional gender roles and to gain financial independence. They are also the first to claim autonomy and take progressive stands in issues of sexuality. These women set an example for their younger peers and for their children, the third generation. We find evidence pointing to this scenario among most of the high educated second generation Turks and Moroccans in Rotterdam. However, we also see a tendency among a subgroup of high educated second generation Moroccans who primarily interact with co-ethnics and who support orthodox religious ideas. The often-held idea that upward socio-economic mobility results in a smooth integration does not seem to materialize for the whole group. An important contextual factor which might explain this difference is that these high educated young people needs to fight themselves into professional positions still primarily held by a 'white' elite of Dutch descent. The more negative profiling of Islam in Rotterdam, especially, the more negative profiling of people of Moroccan descent may have triggered a reactive identity among this highly educated group (See also Crul and Lelie in Chap. 10 of this volume).

What about the low educated and low-income group? What kind of scenario will they trigger for the future of Rotterdam? A subgroup of Turkish-Dutch early school leavers seems to become marginalized. They withdraw into their own ethnic group. In general, these Rotterdam inhabitants hold very conservative ideas on gender and sexuality and show a lot of support for orthodox religious views. Children growing up in these families do so in households living close to or under the poverty line and their outlook on society could turn out to be very negative.

Among the Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers we see an opposite effect. They do *not* withdraw into their own ethnic group but mix with people from different ethnic origins in a similar socio-economic position. As a result, this sub group of Moroccan-Dutch early school leavers seems to move away from traditional conservative norms and values in their ethnic community.

This overview shows that the picture of the second generation in Rotterdam is complex. An intersectional approach in which generation, socio-economic position and ethnicity all play a role seems to be much more appropriate than an approach looking at ethnic groups alone. It is exactly the increased *diversity within ethnic groups* that underscores the concept of superdiversity for cities like Rotterdam. The combination of being not just highly educated, but also being of Moroccan descent, and second generation, female and wearing a head scarf is more than only being a highly educated woman or only being of Moroccan descent or only being a Muslim. All these characteristics together form a radically different reality than the single characteristics do alone. That far more complex picture is needed to fully understand the dynamics in superdiverse cities like Rotterdam.

#### **References**


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## **Chapter 4 Between Choice and Stigma: Identifications of Economically Successful Migrants**

**Marianne van Bochove and Jack Burgers**

The documentary Dutch-Moroccan film maker Abdelkarim El-Fassi made about his father received much attention in Dutch media in 2014. One of the reasons probably was its unusual title: My Father, the Expat (in Dutch: 'Mijn vader, de expat'). With his film, El-Fassi wanted to shed new light on his father's migration experience, who, instead of as an 'expat', was dominantly perceived as a 'Moroccan guest worker'. In daily speech, the terms 'expat' and 'guest worker' both refer to people who temporarily moved from one country to another because of their work, but there is an important difference: expats are usually associated with high incomes and luxurious lifestyles, while guest workers are linked to low-skilled jobs and socioeconomic deprivation. El-Fassi's documentary essentially deals with the issue of identity construction. The label or 'master status' his father had in the receiving society did not coincide with how he perceived himself. El-Fassi, born in a small town in the Netherlands – he moved to Rotterdam to attend university – and as a successful film maker part of the Dutch cultural elite, also has to deal with the difference between the identity society imposed on him and the identity of his choice. In an interview in *De Volkskrant* newspaper (23 February 2015), he said that he is often invited for talk shows to discuss issues such as integration, Islam and Moroccans, while he would rather talk about his field of expertise: making films.

In this contribution, we further draw on El-Fassi's unusual but interesting comparison between 'immigrants' and 'expats', with the aim of scrutinizing identity construction and the tensions between stigma and identity of choice against the

M. van Bochove (\*)

J. Burgers Erasmus School of Social and Behavourial Sciences, Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: burgers@essb.eur.nl

Erasmus School of Health Policy & Management, Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: vanbochove@eshpm.eur.nl

background of the (reluctant) superdiverse city of Rotterdam. We focus on two types of socioeconomically successful migrants which, despite their similarities in class position, are generally regarded as rather different. First, middle-class migrants and members of the second generation from 'classic' migration groups in the Netherlands (with roots in Surinam, Turkey and Morocco, including descendants of former guest workers). Second, expatriates or knowledge workers of various national backgrounds (including American, English, Indian, Chinese) who came to the Netherlands on a temporary basis because of their highly-skilled jobs (or the jobs of their partners, as we also included trailing spouses). In a city in which diversity is dominantly associated with problems (see Van Houdt and Schinkel, Chap. 7 in this volume), both groups usually do not receive much attention. While Rotterdam has recently adopted policy measures to become more attractive for highly skilled migrants, for instance reflected by the opening of an Expat Desk that offers all kinds of practical support, the migrant middle-class already present forms a largely ignored population category (Reijndorp and van der Zwaard 2004).

Earlier research paid attention to the identifications of children of migrants in Rotterdam and to the fact that an increasing part of them acquired middle or upper class status (see the contributions of Crul, Lelie and Keskiner, and Entzinger, Chaps. 3 and 9 in this volume, respectively). In addition, in this chapter, we argue that we can better understand the (imposed and chosen) identities of middle-class migrants and the second generation from 'classic' sending countries if we compare them with those of highly-skilled temporary migrants, and vice versa. We address the questions of how these migrants perceive themselves, how they think that others perceive them, and how discrepancies between these two affect their feelings of belonging in the city of Rotterdam and the Netherlands. Our findings suggest that while both 'immigrants' and 'expatriates' combine various identities, immigrants have more difficulty to adopt alternative identities (such as 'cosmopolitan') than expatriates because of their dominant label as '*allochtoon*' (non-native Dutch).

#### **4.1 Middle-Class Immigrants and Expatriates in Rotterdam**

Rotterdam is sometimes characterized as 'a rich city with poor people' (Schrijnen 2004: 166). Apart from the fact that the city has one of the largest ports in the world, Rotterdam is 'heading the wrong lists', as the then mayor, Ivo Opstelten, said in 1999 (*De Volkskrant*, 1 November 1999), referring to the fact that Rotterdam had higher unemployment rates, lower income levels and lower educated people than other large Dutch cities. Immigrants of non-western origin were, and still are, overrepresented in the categories of unemployed and low-skilled people. However, in accordance with the conceptualization of 'superdiversity' as the diversification of diversity itself (see Vertovec 2007 and the contribution of Crul, Lelie and Keskiner, Chap. 3 in this volume), it is increasingly difficult to predict a person's income or educational level based on his or her ethnic background. A person that is registered as 'Turkish' in the municipal personal record database can be a lower-class former guest worker, but also a middle-class member of the second generation with a successful business (Rusinovic 2008), and, more and more often, a 'knowledge migrant' working here on a temporary basis (IND 2013).

An increasing percentage of inhabitants of the Netherlands with a Surinamese, Turkish and Moroccan background (first and second generation) belongs to the middle-class. According to Dagevos et al. (2006), this was one-third of the Surinamese population and about one-sixth of the Turkish and Moroccan population (this group doubled in size between 1991 and 2005). Although comparable figures are not available at the city level, Rotterdam, like other large Dutch cities, is potentially an important location for the formation of an immigrant middle-class. The percentage of international knowledge workers in the Netherlands has increased over the past years. Compared with Amsterdam – the only 'global city' in the Netherlands, according to Sassen's criteria – Rotterdam's expat population is relatively small. Research on the presence of highly skilled migrants in various metropolitan areas in the Netherlands showed that in 2013, the Rotterdam area numbered 37,300 international knowledge workers (against 27,500 in 2009), of whom 21,000 live in the city of Rotterdam (Decisio 2015a). They comprise about 3.5% of the total population. The number of expats in the Amsterdam metropolitan area is considerably larger: 104,900 in 2013 (84,500 in 2009), of whom almost 42,000 live in the city of Amsterdam (which is more than 5% of the city's total population) (Decisio 2015b). The countries of origin are quite similar for both cities: Germany and the UK are important sending countries. In Rotterdam, the share of Turkish knowledge workers is remarkably high; they form the second largest group after the Germans (Decisio 2015a).

The findings we present in this chapter are based on data collected between 2007 and 2009 for the *Transnational and Urban Citizenship* project (see Van Bochove et al. 2010, 2015; Van Bochove 2012a, b; Van Bochove and Engbersen 2015; Snel et al. 2016).1 The research team interviewed 225 middle-class (children of) immigrants of Surinamese, Turkish and Moroccan origin, which represent the three largest immigrant groups in Rotterdam. We further refer to this group as 'middle-class migrants'. Furthermore,75 highly-skilled temporary migrants and trailing spouses (from, among other countries, the US, the UK, Germany, India, China, Japan, Turkey, and South Africa) were interviewed, to which we further refer as 'expatriates' or 'expats'.

Middle-class migrants were selected based on job level (at least intermediate vocational education) and/or income level (above the national median income). The respondents are part of the 1st, 2nd, or 1.5 generation. The expatriates were selected on their – or in the case of trailing spouses: their partners' – job level (at least higher vocational education) and current length of stay in the Netherlands (between 6 months and 6 years). The respondents were recruited through snowball sampling. Starting

<sup>1</sup>The fieldwork has been done about 10 years ago. Although the socioeconomic context has changed significantly since then, notably in terms of the financial crisis and its aftermath, we have no reason to expect that the identifications of the middle-class first and second generation and expatriates have changed dramatically since then. Given the recent rise of political parties that, in a reaction to right-wing populist parties, explicitly focus on the non-native Dutch electorate, we may expect that the 'ethnic' identifications of migrants in Rotterdam have intensified rather than diminished.

points were the interviewers' own social networks, businesses, organizations, and meetings. The interviews generally lasted between 1 and 2 h. The research team used a questionnaire consisting of both closed and open-ended questions relating to the respondents' jobs, migration history, nationality, family situation, and their identifications and practices regarding different geographical scales. In this chapter, we draw on quantitative closed-ended questions about the respondents' identifications (how they perceive themselves and how they think others perceive them) and on open-ended questions in which respondents were asked to motivate or to further explain their answers.

#### **4.2 Chosen and Imposed Identifications: From World Citizen to** *Allochtoon*

It is generally acknowledged that identities are context dependent and multidimensional. Because of this, the concept 'identification' is usually preferred to 'identity', to stress the fact that it concerns a process rather than a static entity (cf. Nederveen Pieterse 2007: 32; WRR 2007: 33). This does not mean, however, that identities are completely fluid and matters of mere choice (Verkuyten 2005: 54). First of all, certain aspects of identity are more stable than others (Van Bochove et al. 2015). Identifications based on gender, ethnicity and religion are usually established at an early age and are generally less flexible than identifications with, for instance, sports clubs or social movements (Verkuyten 2005: 54; Jenkins 1996). Second, not every identity adopted by an individual is accepted by others (Woodward 2004: 7). This is important, since identities are always constructed in relation to others. As Berger and Berger (1972: 62) put it: 'Only if an identity is confirmed by others it is possible for that identity to be real to the individual holding it.' Both notions – that some parts of identity are relatively stable and that it is difficult to adopt an identity that is not accepted by others – are important for the interpretation of the findings presented below.

The middle-class migrant and expatriate respondents were asked what their primary self-identity is (the exact question was: 'What do you feel yourself to be in the first place?) and how they think they are perceived by others. For both questions, the respondents could choose from the following answer options: Dutch(wo)man; *Rotterdammer*; Surinamese/Turkish/Moroccan/American/English/German, etc. (the answer option varied according to the respondent's background); *Allochtoon*/foreigner (the former was used in the interviews with middle-class migrants, the latter in those with expatriates)2 ; Christian; Muslim; Hindu; European; World citizen/cosmopolitan; Other, namely … In the case of the middle-class migrants, two other options were added: Dutch-Surinamese/-Turkish/-Moroccan and Surinamese-/ Turkish-/Moroccan-Dutch (we refer to both as a hyphenated identities). In the case of expatriates, 'expat' was included as an additional option. The tables below show the three most frequently given answers to both questions for both respondent groups.

<sup>2</sup>The terms '*allochtoon*' and 'foreigner' do not have exactly the same connotation; we will come back to that later.


In the next section, we will discuss the narratives behind these answers, since it is important to know the concrete meanings respondents attribute to the general categories mentioned above. But the general findings in both tables in themselves already reveal striking patterns that are worth elaborating on here.

Expat (11%)/foreigner (11%) Expat (13%)

First, the importance of a 'homeland' identity stands out, both in the respondents' primary-self identities and in their ideas of how others perceive them. Even though in existing literature, expatriates are dominantly described as members of cosmopolitan or expat communities (e.g. Hannerz 1990; Castells 2000), our findings show that for a large part of both respondent groups, their (parents') country of birth provides an important element of their identity.

This is not to say that scholars who portray expatriates as cosmopolitans are entirely beside the mark: 16 out of 75 expatriates primarily identify themselves as world citizens/cosmopolitans. However, only three think others perceive them as such. This is a second striking finding: a cosmopolitan identity is one that is relatively often chosen among expatriates, but (in their opinions) rarely imposed on them or recognized by others.

A third finding that stands out, is that the reverse situation – an identity that is imposed but not chosen as a primary self-identity – is also prominent, but then among middle-class migrants. These respondents often answer *allochtoon* when asked how they think they are perceived by others (57 respondents), but only a few say they identify themselves as such (5 respondents).

A fourth and final finding that is noteworthy is the absence of Dutch (wo)man and *Rotterdammer* in the top three lists of both respondent groups. Of the middleclass migrants, about 6% (13 respondents) said they primarily felt Dutch; of the expatriates none. The finding of previous research that migrants often experience a local or urban identity as more inclusive (Groenewold 2008: 110, see also Entzinger, Chap. 9 in this volume), is somewhat supported by our findings: 20 middle-class migrants (about 9%) and one expatriate gave this answer.

#### **4.3 Looking Behind the Categories**

The figures presented above provide first insight into the identity construction of middle-class migrants and expatriates in Rotterdam. However, several questions so far remained unanswered. Why do middle-class migrants have the feeling they are perceived as *allochtoon*? And what do expatriates mean when they say they feel like cosmopolitans? To answer these questions, we 'need to look behind the categories', as Kiely et al. (2005: 76) earlier did in their research on the construction of British identity.

#### *4.3.1 Feeling Perceived as* **Allochtoon**

Many of the middle-class respondents say that, although they are legally Dutch, they do not feel themselves to be 'real' Dutch (wo)men. Looking at the explanations they give for their answers, it appears that the respondents do want to feel Dutch, but that others exclude them from this identity. Two examples of such statements:

*I want to feel like a real Dutchman, but because others don't see me that way, I can't.* (Male middle-class migrant, 55, Surinamese origin)

*I would like to feel like a Dutchman, but because of the way other people approach me, I feel Moroccan.* (Male middle-class migrant, 31, Moroccan origin)

One female trailing spouse, who is excluded from the sample because she has lived in the Netherlands for about 15 years, makes a similar remark.

*I think I can describe myself as a Dutchwoman, but because of my looks nobody thinks I am Dutch. In America, everyone is American. They will not say 'you are Chinese', or 'you are Turkish'. But in Rotterdam, I feel the people think 'you are Chinese', even if you belong to the second or third generation.* (Female former expatriate, 51, Chinese origin)

Many of the respondents have the feeling that 'Dutchness' is reserved for native, white, non-Muslim people. The opposite of being native Dutch or '*autochtoon*' is being non-native Dutch or '*allochtoon*'. Although the middle-class migrants do not feel themselves to be *allochtoon* in the Netherlands – since they have lived here for a long time, have a Dutch passport, work here, and speak the language fluently – they do experience the consequences of being labelled as such by other (native Dutch) people.

The label *allochtoon* is not perceived as a neutral description, referring to a factual foreign origin, but rather as a stigma. Middle-class migrants associate it with negative statements about immigrants, Muslims and Islam that have become more explicit in Dutch media and politics since the turn of the century. With the rise of right-wing politicians such as Geert Wilders and earlier Pim Fortuyn (discussed in detail in Chap. 5 by Van Ostaaijen), many middle-class migrants have established the feeling that they are not that welcome in the Netherlands anymore and some of them even think about moving abroad because of this reason.

*As an* allochtoon *you have to prove yourself two or three times more, you get underestimated a lot. I don't want that anymore. Since Wilders, it has become worse. I ask myself whether my children have a future in this country.* (Male middle-class migrant, 52, Surinamese origin)

*It is not always nice to live in the Netherlands if you are an* allochtoon *and certainly not if you are a Muslim. Particularly since about six years ago, with the rise of Pim Fortuyn, we are seen as second-class citizens.* (Female middle-class migrant, 31, Moroccan origin)

*I do not always feel welcome here. People think in terms of 'we' and 'them' and politicians encourage that.* (Female middle-class migrant, 26, Moroccan origin)

Expats who feel themselves to be foreigners or think others perceive them as such usually do not see this identity as negative per se. In the explanations they give for their answers on the closed-ended questions, they often use the terms 'foreigner' and 'expat' in similar ways. While for middle-class migrants, *allochtoon* is a stigma and a sign of not being fully accepted as a Dutch citizen, for expats, the feeling of being perceived as foreigner actually comes close to how many perceive themselves in the Netherlands and Rotterdam: as persons coming from abroad who are likely to move on to the next destination or to return 'home' within a few years.

The expatriates generally do not know much about Dutch politics, but when they do know a politician or a political party, it is usually Geert Wilders and his *Party for Freedom* (PVV). That is to say, many do not know the exact names, but refer to them as 'the irritating xenophobic guy', 'the guy that bleaches his hair', 'that albino guy, the fascist', and his 'extreme right party'. Some of the expatriates say they worry about these developments. However, since they do not consider themselves to be Dutch anyway – some do not even see themselves as residents of the Netherlands – they regard the political climate as something that affects 'immigrants' more than 'expats'.

Some expatriates reflected on their relationship with 'immigrants' in Rotterdam. A Turkish and a Polish expatriate mentioned that there is a clear distinction between expats and other people coming from Turkey and Poland. This has to do with education and job level – like many Dutch people, they associate migrants from these countries with low-status jobs – but also with the level of integration. A Turkish expatriate says:

*Well, there are two main groups of Turkish people here. The first group are the ones that came here a long time ago and they have Dutch citizenship. With that group, I am not close. They have a Dutch and a Turkish culture. But I also know PhD students from Turkey, I'm closer to them.* (Female expatriate, 26, Turkish origin)

Despite the fact that many expatriates distinguish between expats and other migrant groups, some do feel a kind of companionship, based on a shared experience of being 'foreign'. An American trailing spouse says that while she often finds Dutch people quite rude, her experiences with 'immigrants' in Rotterdam are positive.

*Even people who are really strict Muslims … Even if a woman wore a headscarf, I found out that those people are more helpful in giving me directions and showing me … It is really interesting, it's like they think: 'we know you are foreign'.* (Female trailing spouse, 34, American origin)

The middle-class migrants did not mention any encounters with expatriates. However, based on the interviews, we can conclude that many respondents from both groups appreciate the ethnic and cultural diversity of Rotterdam, which we will come back to in the next section.

#### *4.3.2 Feeling Like a Cosmopolitan*

Expatriates who primarily identify themselves as 'world citizens' or 'cosmopolitans' often explain their answers by saying that because they lived in (sometimes several) different countries, they find it difficult to choose one answer option. In their opinion, feeling like a world citizen comes closest to a multilayered identity. They emphasize that they do not belong to a single place and cannot be placed into a single box. The quote below is from an expatriate who, after some contemplation, chose the option world citizen.

*I know that I am a foreigner, but we have this thing here with my friends that we are* Rotterdamers*. So, if I had to describe myself in Holland, I would say* Rotterdammer*. Maybe just for fun, but it feels a bit like it. I also feel a bit like a world citizen; I always travel. If you ask me if I feel Brazilian, yeah, I lived there most of my life and that is part of what I am. But I feel more international. I feel like I never fitted there so well, and I never fit here so well. So I don't know if I fit places.* (Female expatriate, 29, Brazilian origin)

The fact that relatively more expatriates than middle-class migrants say their primary self-identity is cosmopolitan or world citizen might have to do with their differences in migration experiences: expatriates generally lived in more different countries than middle-class migrants, of whom many were born and/or raised in the Netherlands. Some of the middle-class migrants who chose this answer option also lived in more than two countries. One of them lived in Morocco, Belgium and the Netherlands and thinks about moving back to Morocco one day. The explanation she gives for her answer is similar to that of the Brazilian expatriate quoted above.

*I find it difficult to say whether I feel more Moroccan or Dutch. As a matter of fact, I do not think the term 'feeling' is really helpful. In Morocco, I feel Dutch, and in the Netherlands I feel Moroccan. Actually I feel myself to be a* Rotterdammer*, a Muslim, a Moroccan, and a Dutchman. I feel like a world citizen. If it were up to me, all national borders would disappear.* (Female middle-class migrant, 41, Moroccan origin)

As Hannerz (1990) argued, cosmopolitanism is not necessarily about having lived in many different places; it is a way of relating to increasing diversity. According to this view, a cosmopolitan is someone who enjoys the coexistence of different cultures. Many of the respondents, both expatriates and middle-class migrants, have such a positive stance towards diversity. Interestingly enough, their celebration of diversity is not so much mentioned in reference to their self-identity as world citizens or cosmopolitans, but rather when they talk about their bonds with what they call 'world cities' or 'cosmopolitan cities'.3 They, for instance, say that they feel close to 'London, because it's a melting pot of many different cultures', to 'New York, because of its ethnic mix' and 'Istanbul, because it is a big, beautiful city with a mix of cultures'.

Some respondents mention that Rotterdam does not have the same 'lifestyle' or 'vibe' as these world cities. Many others, however, embrace the city of Rotterdam because for them, it similarly represents cultural diversity. One middle-class migrant refers to the variety of available foods to illustrate this mix of cultures:

*I feel connected with Rotterdam; I wouldn't want to live in any other city. I began to love this city. In Rotterdam, if you want to have* nasi [an Indonesian rice dish] *or kebab at four o'clock in the morning, you can just get it.* (Male middle-class immigrant, 44, Surinamese origin)

It can be argued that in the Dutch context, Rotterdam – together with Amsterdam and possibly The Hague – is the city that comes closest to what many migrants see as their cosmopolitan ideal. An expatriate explains that in Rotterdam, compared to other areas in the Netherlands, he does not feel he is 'different'.

*Specifically in Rotterdam – in other places it is different – a huge part of the population is foreign, so being a foreigner myself, I don't feel like I stick out particularly or that my presence is unusual. There is a significant presence of people from all over the world; that is something that I enjoy.* (Male expatriate, 38, Italian origin)

While the expatriate quoted above sees it is a positive thing to be 'one of the many foreigners' in Rotterdam, for middle-class migrants, being perceived as a 'foreigner' or '*allochtoon*' is actually often experienced as insulting, as we discussed earlier. While the feeling of being perceived as *allochtoon* is particularly mentioned in relation to the political climate on a national level, some respondents also experienced a change in their beloved Rotterdam. One of them – the same respondent who called herself a 'world citizen' – describes how her identity as a *Rotterdammer* has weakened over the past years.

*For years, I felt myself to be a citizen of the city. But that changed some years ago. In the past, when I had been in Belgium for family visit and the train to Rotterdam passed the Turkish mosque, it really felt like coming home. But now, people see me as an* allochtoon*.* (Female middle-class migrant, 41, Moroccan origin)

With their multilayered identities, relating to different national, cultural and religious backgrounds, both expatriates and middle-class migrants feel at home in 'cosmopolitan', ethnically diverse cities. However, while to many middle-class migrants, Rotterdam represents (super) diversity, they have the feeling that others think Rotterdam should represent 'whiteness' or 'being native Dutch'. As long as this is the case, and their identities as *Rotterdamers* or world citizens are not confirmed by others, such identities are also difficult to be real to the persons holding them (Berger and Berger 1972).

<sup>3</sup>One of the open questions was, whether respondents felt a special bond with places (cities, countries or regions) apart from Rotterdam, the Netherlands and their country of origin.

#### **4.4 Part of a Superdiverse Population: But Still Put into a Single Box**

Rotterdam can be characterized as a superdiverse city: there are multiple layers of difference within its immigrant populations, including country of origin, mode of migration, nationality, socioeconomic position, language, and religion. However, this does not mean that this condition of superdiversity is acknowledged, let alone embraced, by the urban population. Rather, we see forms of reduction of the complexity that superdiversity poses in everyday life. More specifically, superdiversity is often simplified to dichotomies, such as '*autochtoon*' versus '*allochtoon*' or 'Dutch' versus 'foreign'. Even though middle-class migrants say they feel connected with Rotterdam because of its diverse population, they also feel they are put into a single box, rather than having the feeling that their multiple identities are accepted. And even though expatriates sometimes feel themselves to be cosmopolitans or world citizens, they are also very much aware of the fact that they are 'foreigners', which means not being at home even in a superdiverse city. Interestingly, middle-class migrants and expatriates alike reproduce the dichotomies they think the dominant – not necessarily majority – population group uses to make sense of everyday urban superdiversity. They also (often implicitly) refer to people who are '*autochtoon*' or 'Dutch', as if these were homogeneous categories. In that sense, redefining him from 'guest worker' to 'expat' would not have solved the feeling of social exclusion – not being 'native' – perceived by Abdelkarim El-Fassi's father.

#### **References**


**Open Access** This chapter is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.

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## **Part II Rotterdam's Response to Superdiversity**

## **Chapter 5 Local Politics, Populism and Pim Fortuyn in Rotterdam**

**Julien van Ostaaijen**

The focus in this chapter is on the local politics of Rotterdam and especially the local political turnover of power in 2002. Up until that year, during the time Rotterdam changed into a superdiverse city, the Labour Party had always been the largest political party in Rotterdam. In 2002 however, a new party won the elections with almost 37% of the votes. This victory is strongly associated with Pim Fortuyn, the party's leader. Fortuyn, who by many was considered a populist, applied a fierce anti-establishment attitude and had been known for, among other things, critique on integration policy and the Islam. In this chapter, attention is given to the policy and political debate regarding immigration and integration before, during, and after this change of power. From an international perspective, this case sheds light on the question whether and how a populist/anti-establishment party can succeed to not only win elections, but to implement policy. Liveable Rotterdam was part of Rotterdam government from 2002 to 2006 (and became part of it again in 2014).

#### **5.1 Rotterdam Politics Up Until 2002**

In the Dutch and Rotterdam system of local government, many actors are involved in policy-making. This makes the Dutch system a fragmented system in which power is divided among several directly and non-directly elected actors, among which a directly elected municipal council (*gemeenteraad*) and a day-to-day political executive (*college*). The executive consists of aldermen (*wethouders*) who are appointed by (a majority in) the council and a mayor (*burgemeester*), who is

J. van Ostaaijen (\*)

Parts of this chapter have previously been published in my dissertation: Van Ostaaijen 2010.

Tilburg Institute of Governance (TIG), Tilburg University, Tilburg, The Netherlands e-mail: j.j.c.vanostaaijen@uvt.nl

formally appointed by national government, but that appointment is influenced by the council (Van Ostaaijen 2010).1

The municipal council in Rotterdam consists of 45 seats divided between several political parties. With an average of 20 municipal council seats in the post-war elections, the Labour Party had consistently been the largest party in the municipal council. It even received an absolute majority (23 seats or more) for 16 years, from 1962 to 1966, 1974 until 1982, and from 1986 to 1990.

In the first two decades after the Second World War, Rotterdam politics experienced a time of consensus and of little political differences (Van de Laar 2000). Everyone considered rebuilding the harbour and the city to be undisputed priorities. Political differences became evident only during elections. But after elections, the Labour Party normally granted other parties a place in the municipal executive and political disputes subsided. Even in 1962, when the Labour Party gained the absolute majority in the municipal council for the first time, it took the Liberal Party and Christian Democratic Party aboard as partners in the executive (Table 5.1).

During the elections of 1990 and 1994, the Labour Party lost a substantial proportion of its seats. However, it remained the largest party with a considerable number of council seats more than the second largest party (the Christian Democratic Party in 1990 and the Liberal Democratic Party in 1994). This gave the party influence in coalition negotiations in order to form the executive. And when the Labour Party was again able to win seats in 1998, it could make more demands. Compared to the previous period (1994–1998), the Labour Party received one alderman more and the Liberal Party had to hand over the harbour portfolio to the Labour Party. Criticism from opposition parties about this concentration of power was dismissed by the Labour Party (municipal council meeting 14/4/1998). Even though Rotterdam was thus up until 2002, a Labour Party dominated city – even the Rotterdam municipal service departments were often led by Labour Party members (e.g. see: Labour Party 2002: 7) – this does not mean, governing always went smoothly. The 1998– 2002 executive continued some disputes from the previous executive. According to national newspapers, the 1994–1998 executive performed poorly and there was only minimal funding available to implement the new 1998 programme. Moreover, there were misunderstandings between some of the important Labour Party aldermen and (Labour Party) mayor Peper. Both aldermen at some point even complained about the mayor to the prime minister, also from the Labour Party. Nevertheless, the executive was able to make extra money available for the European Football Championship in 2000 and the appointment of Rotterdam as European Cultural Capital in 2001.

<sup>1</sup>The municipal council nominates a candidate for mayor. National government in general will accept that preference.



COS (2006), Bouwmeester (2000), www.verkiezingsuitslagen.nl; www.rotterdam.nl

#### **5.2 Coming to Terms with Superdiversity Prior to 2002**

While Rotterdam's political leadership remained relatively stable due to the Labour Party's dominance, the city's social structure changed substantially. That this change also caused social anxieties was for instance expressed in 1972, when some neighbourhood inhabitants threw the furniture of immigrants into the streets. This was later labelled as Rotterdam's first race related riots after the Second World War. Afterwards, the executive proposed to distribute the population of 'foreigners' throughout the city, allowing only 5% in each neighbourhood (Dekker and Senstius 2001: 23). The Dutch Council of State however blocked the measure because of its discriminatory character (Van Praag 2004: 68). A few years later, Rotterdam tried again. This time, it won a legal fight to install a maximum of 16% non-Dutch people in any neighbourhood. However, this time the executive did not follow through with the plans.

The 1978 policy report 'Migrants in Rotterdam' (*Migranten in Rotterdam*) acknowledged that foreign immigrants – then referred to as guest labourers – were often not returning to their country of origin. This revelation paved the way for an integration policy (Dekker and Senstius 2001), even though the beginning of the report indicates otherwise: "no distinction is made between people of Dutch origin and people of foreign origin … one policy is waged for both groups" (quote of the 1978 programme cited in Rotterdam 1998b).

In 1986, civil servants from city hall organised a series of dialogues between mosque organisations and a Labour Party alderman. The themes included employment and gender relations. In the 1990s, more attention emerged regarding the efforts immigrants have to exert in order to make a living. The next phase of dealing with immigrants started in 1998. In 1998, the document 'Effective Immigrant Policy' (*Effectief Allochtonenbeleid*) acknowledged that the view of the 1978 report was no longer sustainable. Rotterdam no longer consisted of a homogenous Dutch population, but an ethnic heterogeneous one, which required the application of 'specific arrangements' (Rotterdam 1998b: 2). The executive strongly encouraged that all services in Rotterdam took this reality into consideration when developing policy. The executive encouraged hiring more inhabitants of foreign origin to make the city organisation more representative of its population. It also recommended the development of 'diversity in communication', e.g. addressing inhabitants in different languages (RD 10/11/2000).

Diversity is a fact, and as such does not require discussion… 'Inclusive' thinking (meaning diversity is the norm and the starting point in every policy area) should be stimulated within every executive plan, service, institution, and politics. This means that every activity, every policy proposal should be measured to see if it fulfils the aim of diversity… Too often it is forgotten that general policy starts from thinking from Dutch middle-class groups, while it already is necessary (especially in certain areas) to change towards diversity policy… [We have to] challenge inhabitants from a foreign origin to make their contribution to Rotterdam society concrete in the form of *wishes*, *desires*, and *possibilities*. (Rotterdam 1998a: 5, italics added)

Even though all these years the Labour Party remained the largest party in Rotterdam politics, some electoral signals emerged that not all inhabitants felt comfortable with the Labour Party's stand on integration. In the 1980s, several extreme right parties made immigration and integration issues their main campaign themes, mainly by being against it. The extreme right won one municipal council seat in 1986, two in 1990, and six in 1994. In 1998, these parties did not win a single municipal council seat. However, the rapid growth of the extreme right parties had nevertheless also caused some of the public avoidance of problems with immigration and integration lest these issues be exploited for political purposes, and this avoidance contributed to the taboo on public debate over certain problems (e.g. Linthorst 2004: 212). According to some top city managers, the focus on diversity policy within the municipal services also meant that certain (socioeconomic) problems of these groups were not addressed.

The crime numbers came in and tilted strongly towards our coloured fellow human beings, especially the Moroccans. This was thus nuanced and trivialised, that was the sphere… It just was not politically correct to address it. (interview former top civil servant, Van Ostaaijen 2010)

In the evaluation of the 1998–2002 executive programme there was no reference to such tensions or problems. The executive mainly emphasised policy successes. In the evaluation of the 'multi-coloured city' programme, the executive regarded the focus on personnel policy as most successful as the percentage of employees of foreign origin grew from 16.3% to 18.1% (Rotterdam 2001: 48). As we can also see in Chap. 10, general opinion of Dutch citizens at this time was not always positive.

#### **5.3 The Emergence of Pim Fortuyn, Liveable Rotterdam, and Local Populism in Rotterdam Politics 2001–2002**

Pim Fortuyn (1948–2002) started his career in science. In 1990, Fortuyn was appointed as part-time professor at the Erasmus University in Rotterdam, the city where he had lived since 1988. In the 1990s, Fortuyn achieved attention with his writings, such as books and columns, and speeches where he mainly criticised the degradation of old urban neighbourhoods, the multicultural society, Islam, the educational system, bureaucracy, and the welfare state. In his appearance, Fortuyn was considered a dandy. He had shaved his head since 1997and was rarely seen without a fancy suit with thick tie. He spoke eloquently, lived alone with his butler and two dogs, and never hid the fact that he was gay when asked about it. In August 2001, Fortuyn declared on national TV that he entered Dutch politics to become prime minister of the Netherlands, either with an existing party or his own list of candidates. After his announcement to become a politician, the media started reporting on Fortuyn. His ambition and comments on immigration gave him more media coverage and increased his fame. In January 2002, Fortuyn became a member of Liveable Rotterdam, a local party in his home town of Rotterdam.

Liveable Rotterdam was established only 1 month earlier by a former school teacher called Ronald Sørensen, partly out of affinity with Fortuyn. Sørensen decided to take part in the municipal council election and he quickly established an organisation, a programme, and a list of candidates. He had to do that quickly since the election was only 3 months away (in March 2002). Some of Sørensen's friends joined the party as well and he hoped to win five municipal council seats in the 2002 election.

After Fortuyn sent Sørensen an email to become a member of Liveable Rotterdam, things proceeded rapidly. One week after the email, there was a meeting in Fortuyn's home where it was agreed that Fortuyn would become leader of Liveable Rotterdam, which meant that he would lead the list of municipal council candidates for the upcoming election in March 2002. Besides his affinity with Rotterdam, the reason for Fortuyn to accept was that he considered the Rotterdam municipal council election a good test case for his national ambitions and the national election in May 2002. At the meeting where the decision was made to make Fortuyn the leader of Liveable Rotterdam, someone asked about Liveable Rotterdam's election programme. Sørensen wanted to answer, but Fortuyn interrupted him and mentioned issues such as safety, the deteriorated neighbourhoods, and flight of the middleclass (Chorus and De Galan 2002: 124–125; Oosthoek 2005: 40).

In 2002, the national media devoted more and more attention to Fortuyn, who appeared to take Dutch politics by storm. Proponents and opponents agreed that he knew how to use the media and the media were fond of reporting on him. Fortuyn's national message, in which safety, immigration and Islam stood out as main themes, seemed to appeal to voters, also in Rotterdam. According to a poll in Rotterdam in the end of January, Liveable Rotterdam would be able to secure a maximum of ten municipal council seats, about 22% of the votes. By the beginning of February this had become 12 seats. In March the number fell back to ten. In these polls, however, Liveable Rotterdam never secured more council seats than the Labour Party. Those same polls also included a question about the problems in the city. In all three polls, safety and street crime were considered the largest problems (Oosthoek 2005: 82).

When Fortuyn became the leader of Liveable Rotterdam in January 2002, his views dominated the party agenda to a large extent. Therefore his (inter)views and writings together with the formal election program of Liveable Rotterdam determine the party's agenda of which improved safety (policy), but also a stricter immigration and integration approach, or at least more open discussion about related problems, were important parts (Van Ostaaijen 2010).2

<sup>2</sup>The election programme of Liveable Rotterdam included other themes as well, such as investment in education (especially personnel), requiring that Dutch becomes the main language in all Rotterdam schools, and creating more green spaces. The party was against the privatisation of the Harbour Company and the Public Transport Service, but it did want the Harbour Company to function more as a business and to stimulate more competition between companies in the harbour. The party wanted the *Tweede Maasvlakte* (a large extension of the harbour) to be developed immediately. Liveable Rotterdam was in favour of more night flights to and from Rotterdam airport. It felt that entrepreneurs and businesses should be supported, meaning, among other things, more subsidies and less bureaucracy. The party preferred building or renovating expensive houses to attract the richer part of the population [no mentioning of mixing people, JvO]. The party also supported the return of the 'human measurement' in culture policy, meaning among other things more investment in people and less in buildings and concrete (Liveable Rotterdam 2002).

Focusing on immigration and integration, a theme Fortuyn became known for in his writings, the election programme stated: 'Liveable Rotterdam is a party that wants to fight all forms of racism and discrimination based on race, religious conviction, nationality, heritage, or gender' (Liveable Rotterdam 2002). The party does not tolerate opposition to hard-fought changes, such as democracy, separation of church and state, women's right to vote, workers' rights, social insurance, and equality for women and gays; immigrants should receive educational support, but also have an obligation to integrate themselves (Liveable Rotterdam 2002).

Fortuyn was in favour of women's emancipation, including ethnic women, but he did not believe in a multicultural society in the sense of different cultures living next to but not with each other. Fortuyn was very much in favour of 'free speech' to discuss these and other issues in the open. During the election campaign, Fortuyn even said that he wanted the ban on discrimination excluded from the Dutch Constitution as it limited the right to free speech too much. He was in favour of an open, rigorous debate (Chorus and Galan 2002: 199). He explained:

The leftist church, which includes part of the media, the Green Party and the Labour Party, has for years forbade discussions that deal with the multicultural society and the problems it brings forth, by continuously combining those with discrimination, with racism, and not in the last place, with the blackest page of the history of this part of the continent: fascism and Nazism. (Fortuyn cited in Chorus and Galan 2002: 198)

In the 1990s, Fortuyn wrote about Islam in a book called 'Against the Islamisation of Our Culture' (Fortuyn 1997). During the election campaign he said that the Islamic culture is a backward one and that if he could legally arrange it, there would be no Muslim allowed to enter the country (Volkskrant 9/2/2002). In the summer of 2001, he gave an interview in the Rotterdam local paper claiming that the number of immigrants was a problem:

The Netherlands is full. Rotterdam as well. In a couple of years, this city will consist for 56% of people who are not from the Netherlands… We allow too many foreign people to enter. In that way we get an underclass that consists of too many people who are badly equipped to contribute either economically or culturally. (Oosthoek 2005: 25)

Fortuyn believed that everyone who was already in the Netherlands could stay and should be taken care of, but no more should be allowed to enter before the country had solved its problems, since, he said, most newcomers have a difficult time taking care of themselves, let alone contributing to society. Moreover, he believed that people who had migrated should adjust to the dominant culture. Fortuyn was also a proponent of mixing different cultures throughout the city and of building more houses for the middle-class.

Fortuyn, party founder Sørensen, and party member Pastors (who later became alderman), denied being anti-immigrant or racists. Sørensen wanted the election programme to include measures for the integration of immigrants, but not their removal from the country. He also took a councilman candidate off the candidate list when he found out that he had been a member of an extreme-right party (Booister 2009: 59, 82). Fortuyn thought migrants could be good role models for other citizens and declared that he had many immigrant friends (Booister 2009: 48). When

Pastors was invited to become part of Liveable Rotterdam, he wanted to know for sure that the party was no 'right-wing club' as he did not 'hate foreigners' (Booister 2009: 73). In the election campaign, it seemed that among the supporters of the party were also people from a non-Dutch background (Booister 2009: 118, 125).

The entrée of Fortuyn and Liveable Rotterdam, and especially the expectation that they would do well during the elections, made the electoral campaign fierce and harsh. Fortuyn and his political opponents often clashed hard and personally. Many opponents believed Fortuyn was a racist due to his proposal to abolish the ban on discrimination from the Dutch Constitution and to close the border for Muslim immigrants. In the last months before the election, when the polls indicated that Liveable Rotterdam could look forward to substantial electoral success, the election campaign became grimmer. The mainstream parties in Rotterdam, which were still taken somewhat by surprise by Fortuyn's active role in Liveable Rotterdam, heavily opposed Fortuyn and rejected his call for restrictions on immigration and critique on Islam and the multicultural society. A number of Rotterdam organisations even lodged a complaint against Fortuyn for discrimination. Several national politicians, when talking about Fortuyn, referred to the Second World War and 'the diary of Anne Frank' (Booister 2009: 108). In Rotterdam, a Liberal Democratic Party councilman complimented the organisations that filed a complaint against Fortuyn for discrimination (Oosthoek 2005 32–33) and the Green Party leader talked about 'deportations' when talking about Fortuyn (Booister 2009: 107). Both the Labour Party leader and the Liberal Party leader labelled Liveable Rotterdam as an 'extreme right' party.

In the streets, there were people who supported Fortuyn, but others harassed him and called him the 'Dutch Haider' (referring to the leader of the right-wing Austrian Freedom Party (e.g. Oosthoek 2005: 100)). According to Sørensen, insults and threats by email increased. After an incident on the city's south bank, where Fortuyn was harassed by a small group of young people from a non-Dutch origin, Liveable Rotterdam decided to stop campaigning on the street. The Liberal Party leader labelled Fortuyn a 'spreader of hate'. Manuel Kneepkens from the City Party called him a 'Polder Mussolini' and compared him and his party with fascism on several occasions. Other (national) political party leaders also compared Liveable Rotterdam to extreme right parties. On top of that, the Labour Party, Christian Democratic Party, and the Liberal Party in Rotterdam refused to talk with Fortuyn about a coalition after the elections. According to the local newspaper, in one of the last political debates between the party leaders before the election, the debaters (Fortuyn and his opponents) avoided each other 'as if contagious diseases can be transmitted' (RD 4/3/2002).

#### *Can Fortuyn be considered a populist?*

The concept of populism is debated within the scientific literature. The concept nevertheless seems to have some core aspects most authors agree on: a reference to 'the people' and an anti-elite attitude, defending the man in the street or 'the underdog' (Canovan 1981: 294–297). These characteristics reappear in recent, popular, definitions of populism such as: "an ideology which puts virtuous and homogeneous people against a set of elites and dangerous 'others' who are together depicted as depriving (or attempting to deprive) the sovereign people of their rights, values, prosperity, identity and voice" (Albertazzi and McDonnell 2014: 3). This resembles the definition given by Mudde as: "an ideology that considers society to be ultimately separated into two homogeneous and antagonistic groups, 'the pure people' versus 'the corrupt elite', and which argues that politics should be an expression of the volonté générale (general will) of the people" (Mudde 2004: 562, 2007). Within populism 'the people' is usually seen as a unity, indivisible and 'good' (Zaslove 2008: 322). Populists place the 'good people' against a corrupt elite, which leads to a firm 'us versus them' paradigm (Stanley 2008; Taggart 2000). Populists also turn against what they perceive as 'dangerous others' (Albertazzi and McDonnell 2014: 6). Whereas the elite is mainly an internal threat, the 'dangerous others' are external threats. These can be different groups such as immigrants, feminists and ecologists (Mudde 2007: 64–78; Zaslove 2008).

In general, Dutch scholars consider Fortuyn to be a populist (Koole 2010; Lucardie and Voerman 2012), and also regard his national party/list as such (Lucardie 2010; De Lange and Rooduijn 2011; Van Kessel 2015). To support that claim, these authors base themselves on the previous mentioned core criteria of populism, even though different scholars use different definitions and some use additional criteria. With a closer look, Fortuyn seems to fulfil the anti-elitist criteria more than the reference to 'the people' (Vossen 2013). This is certainly true in the Rotterdam case, where his antiestablishment attitude was a core aspect of his electoral campaign. Based on Taguieff (2002 in Te Velde 2010: 247) Fortuyn can at least be labelled a protest populist. *Protest populists* mainly focus on the anti-elitist factor, thus the enemy from above; the *identity populists* mainly focus on the people and identity, thus the enemy from outside. His attitude against the Islam falls nevertheless in the latter category.3

<sup>3</sup>Several authors also have argued that populism in the Netherlands was present before 2002 and that Fortuyn was not the first politician or party leader with a populist style. In the 1990s, the extreme right parties and the Socialist Parties – both elected in the Rotterdam municipal council – were to some extent considered populist (e.g. Lucardie and Voerman 2012).

#### **5.4 Liveable Rotterdam in Power 2002–2006: Dealing with Superdiversity**

The exact size of Liveable Rotterdam's victory took everyone by surprise. The newcomer achieved more than one third of the Rotterdam vote, all major existing parties lost seats, and Liveable Rotterdam replaced the Labour Party as largest party.

After the initial shock, the existing parties upheld the unwritten rule that the largest party should take the initiative for coalition negotiations. And after a troublesome start, this led fairly quickly to a coalition between Liveable Rotterdam, the Liberal Party, and the Christian Democratic Party. Some reasons for this rapid agreement are that despite the aversion, Liveable Rotterdam's priority of safety, was shared by most other parties in Rotterdam. And despite hard personal reprimands, the leaders of the different parties meet each other a couple of times during the campaign. The willingness of Fortuyn to give each coalition partner two aldermen positions in the new executive and his own party only three (a balance which did not resemble the electoral result) helped them to overcome their objections. Regarding content, there was enough to work with between the three parties. The Christian Democratic Party recognized itself in Fortuyn's ideas on norms and values and the Liberal Party related to the desired attention for public safety and a more liberal economic policy.

When the new coalition was being formed, the media focused on Rotterdam intensively. It seemed that everyone was curious to find out how Fortuyn's viewpoints would turn out in this first 'test case' of governing responsibility. People especially focused on Fortuyn's controversial stands on immigration, integration, and Islam. It was thus to some a surprise that the two political coalition documents that appeared in 2002 were rather quiet regarding those themes. Both documents mainly focused on the word 'respect' in the way that people should behave towards each other, a compromise between Liveable Rotterdam and the Christian Democratic Party (Van Schendelen 2003: 258). The executive programme contained concrete measures to enhance social cohesion and to get citizens actively involved in their community. These projects were not always voluntarily, but nevertheless did not seem to resemble Fortuyn's strong stands on the subjects of immigration, integration, and Islam (Rotterdam 2002: 33).

Addressing issues such as integration or Islam more directly after 2002 initially took place mainly ad-hoc. Several Liveable Rotterdam councilmen or aldermen made remarks or proposed ideas that included the obligation to speak Dutch in mosques, installing a maximum height for minarets on mosques, or to prohibit speaking Turkish or Moroccan in municipal services (interview service director). Such remarks, however, seldom led to policy changes, and over the years this led to unease among members of Liveable Rotterdam. Fortuyn at that moment was no longer present. He had been murdered in May 2002, shortly after the formation of the political coalition, causing a huge outbreak of protest in grief, in the Netherlands, but certainly also in Rotterdam.4 Marco Pastors, one of the Liveable Rotterdam

<sup>4</sup>The Parliamentary election was only 9 days after the murder. Fortuyn's national list of candidates without its leader received 17% of the Dutch vote, making it the second largest national party.

aldermen informally and later formally took over the party's leadership. He formulated the unease of the initial silence about integration themes:

You cannot sit in a representative body with seventeen of Pim Fortuyn's seats and then do nothing about integration. (Pastors 2006: 73)

The silence lasted until 2003, when the municipal research agency released a report that predicted that the overwhelming majority of certain areas in Rotterdam in 2017 would consist of people from a non-Dutch background (COS 2003). The first response to this report, surprisingly, came from a Labour Party member. A district alderman used it to publicly address the socioeconomic problems in his district and said that the city should mandate a maximum number of disadvantaged newcomers entering the city (RD 1/8/2003). This district alderman separated the socioeconomic situation from ethnicity. Liveable Rotterdam, entering the debate, did not. Alderman Pastors opted for a moratorium on immigration by 'disadvantaged people from a foreign origin' (RD 22/8/2003). This quickly led to a public discussion focusing on whether or not there should be a maximum of people from foreign origin in the city. According to a national news network survey, a majority of Rotterdam inhabitants was in favour of such a limit (RTL 23/8/2003). The executive responded by installing a committee to develop a report to understand what the demographic development noted by the Rotterdam research agency entailed for the city. The report appeared in December 2003 and was called 'Rotterdam Presses On: The Way to a Balanced City' (*Rotterdam Zet Door. Op weg naar een stad in balans* (Rotterdam 2003)). It contained proposals combining measures regarding migration, settlement, and integration. Some of the measures stirred controversy, especially the requirement that a person must earn 120% of the minimum wage to settle in certain Rotterdam neighbourhoods. Besides such repressive measures, there were also preventive measures such as 'Welcome to Rotterdam' (*Welkom in Rotterdam*), a project that tried to introduce new Rotterdam inhabitants to the city by connecting them with settled Rotterdam citizens. Another proposal was to provide subsidies for entrepreneurs who decided to start a business in one of the more disadvantaged neighbourhoods.

From this moment on, the topic of integration and Islam remained on Rotterdam's public agenda. In 2005, Rotterdam organised the 'Islam Debates' (*Islamdebatten*), eight public gatherings about the role of the Islam. The debates dealt with themes such as the role of women, homosexuality, separation between church and state, education, and the economic situation. Liveable Rotterdam, more specifically alderman Pastors, used these debates to define his role of Islam critic. During the first Islam debate, Pastors and faction chairman Sørensen defended the statement: 'the fear of Muslims is justified'. Other politicians at the debate and the overwhelming part of the visitors opposed that statement. According to Pastors, most other politicians did not dare to address problems surrounding the integration of immigrants. By that time, Pastors' opinion on this topic was well known. In 2003, he wanted no more new immigrants to enter Rotterdam and in the beginning of 2005, he warned that Islamic law might be implemented in some Rotterdam districts if Islamic parties with 'some idiots of the Green Party' come to power. In November 2005, Pastors was quoted talking about the fact that Muslims often use their religion as an excuse for criminal behaviour. It reached the local press. Liveable Rotterdam's coalition partner the Christian Democratic Party now lost confidence in Pastors. This meant that there was a majority in the municipal council to support a vote of no confidence and Pastors was forced to resign as alderman. Pastors later that same evening declared on national TV that he was the victim of 'old politics'. According to him, the affair showed that it was still impossible to talk freely about all subjects even when there was support among citizens to do so. A few weeks later, when Pastors was officially elected as Liveable Rotterdam leader for the 2006 municipal council election, he repeated this message:

The last couple of weeks showed we are still needed. While other parties in Rotterdam politics now for years have talked about the fact that … the taboo on talking about integration and Islam has disappeared, they showed, with exception of the Liberal Party that the taboo as well as old politics is still there. (Liveable Rotterdam 2005)

Most people expected that the Labour Party would achieve a good result in the Rotterdam local election. The party was nationally doing well in the polls. And it achieved a large victory indeed, receiving more than 37% of the Rotterdam vote. Liveable Rotterdam became the second largest party with almost 30% of the votes. 'A good result, but not good enough', was the reaction of Liveable Rotterdam leader Pastors, thereby also referring to the result of the Labour Party. According to the media, it were for a large part ethnic votes that contributed to the victory of the Labour Party, implying that there was a clear division between the preference of Dutch and non-Dutch voters.

#### **5.5 The Ethnic Vote in Rotterdam 1998–2014**

In the Netherlands, non-Dutch residents can, in general, vote for the local elections if they have been living legally in the Netherlands for at least 5 years. In 1986, ethnic minorities were able to cast their vote for the first time. The turnout among them was (relatively) high, see Table 5.2. After that, turnout decreased. In 1998, turnout increased, probably as a response to the high support for the extreme right parties in 1994 (Van den Bent 2010: 286).


**Table 5.2** Turnout minorities in Rotterdam elections

Van den Bent (2010: 255); 2010 data from COS (2010: 13), based on a graphic


**Table 5.3** A short analysis of the votes for Liveable Rotterdam and the Labour Party 2002–2014, on neighbourhood level, with a focus on voter origin

Based on: COS (2002, 2006, 2010), OBI (2014)

In a 1998 survey, it turned out that ethnic minorities in Rotterdam in general vote for either the Labour Party or the Green Party (Berger et al. 2001: 14). Among Turkish people, the Christian Democratic Party was also popular, but this probably had to do with the popularity of a specific Turkish candidate (Berger et al. 2001: 13). In 2002, turnout among ethnic minorities increased. The political programme of Liveable Rotterdam and especially (inter)views of Fortuyn might be the reason for this, but researchers have not been able to establish a direct link (see Table 5.3).

In 2006, turnout among ethnic minorities further increased. National influence probably played a role in this increase, e.g. the state secretary for integration that with her stern stances on integration attracted many supporters, but also many adversaries. However, research also pointed out that the foreign originated middleclass in Rotterdam held the opinion that local politicians should give a good example and not distinguish between Dutch people and people from foreign origin, something that they in their view did too often (Van den Bent 2010: 286, 255). This time, researchers also established a link between the ethnicity of the voter and the vote for Liveable Rotterdam: in neighbourhoods with more voters from a foreign origin, the percentage of people that voted for Liveable Rotterdam was lower (see Table 5.3). For 2010 and 2014, such conclusions are not available, but researchers pointed out that the electorate for Liveable Rotterdam since 2006 has been relatively stable (COS 2010; OBI 2014).


**Table 5.4** The total percentage of votes received by the Labour Party and Liveable Rotterdam

The profile of the Labour Party had already been clearer from the start. Even though information about ethnicity is not available for the 2002 election, researchers point out that the Labour Party in the elections of 2006, 2010, and 2014 received more votes in neighbourhoods with many people from a foreign origin. In 2006, more than one third of the extra votes can be traced back to votes for Turkish and Moroccan Labour Party candidates (COS 2010: 21). The researchers also note a strong correlation between the ethnicity of a candidate and that of the voters on neighbourhood level. In other words "Turks vote en masse for Turkish candidates and Moroccans vote en masse for Moroccan candidates" (COS 2010: 18). In 2006, the Labour Party had 5 Turkish candidates together achieving more than 13,000 votes and 4 Moroccan candidates receiving 8300 votes. In 2010, the Labour Party had 4 Turkish candidates with more than 13,200 votes and 3 Moroccan candidates with over 6200 votes (COS 2010: 21). This is about 9% of all Rotterdam votes.

In 2010 and 2014, the Labour Party lost many votes (see Table 5.4). On both occasions, for a substantial part due to the loss in votes from people from a foreign origin (COS 2010; OBI 2014). In 2010, almost half of the loss can be traced back to fewer votes for Turkish and Moroccan candidates (COS 2010: 21). In 2014, paradoxically, the Labour Party in Rotterdam received many votes in neighbourhoods with many voters from foreign origin, but has also faced its largest losses in those neighbourhoods (OBI 2014: 18–19). The lost votes mainly went to two parties: the Socialist Party (that won three seats compared to 2010) and a new party. NIDA Rotterdam, an Islamic party that won two seats in the municipal council.5 While politically, NIDA opposes, among others, Liveable Rotterdam, electorally it turned out competition for the Labour Party. In neighbourhoods with the most people from foreign origin, the loss of the Labour Party compared to 2010 was the largest. And in several cases, Labour Party's loss was NIDA's win: the percentage voters for NIDA relates to the number of foreign people in a neighbourhood (R2 = 0.80) and the percentage of low incomes (0.60) (OBI 2014).6 In 2018, the Labour Party loses more votes, NIDA again manages to win two seats, and DENK, an Islamic party already present in Dutch national parliament, wins four seats. The Freedom Party (the party of Geert Wilders) enters Rotterdam municipal council with one seat (Table 5.1).

<sup>5</sup> Islamic parties were not new. E.g. in 1998, 6% of Moroccans voted for the Islamic Party (Berger et al. 2001: 13).

<sup>6</sup>The loss of Labour Party votes in Rotterdam in 2010 and 2014 is in line with the result in other Dutch municipalities. On average, the Labour Party nationally achieved 24% of the votes in 2006, 16% in 2010, and 10% in 2014.

#### **5.6 Dealing with Superdiversity After 2006/The Labour Party Back in Power**

After the 2006 election, Liveable Rotterdam and its former coalition partners did not possess a majority in the municipal council anymore. Another coalition therefore needed to be formed. This became a coalition with the Labour Party but without Liveable Rotterdam. The Labour Party however did not turn back all changes made in the previous years.

In the years before the Labour Party's return to power, problems regarding the multicultural society were more publicly discussed and in some cases this led to policy (change). This was not limited to Rotterdam, but the Rotterdam executive with Liveable Rotterdam certainly had a frontrunner role. Apart from the Islamic debates and Rotterdam Presses On, criminal behaviour among certain ethnic groups was discussed more openly. For instance, problems regarding Antillean immigrants was the explicit topic of a Rotterdam conference in January 2006.

Approaching the new elections of 2006, media frequently asked (Rotterdam) citizens' opinions. In Rotterdam there was support for a fiercer stand regarding integration and immigrants. From the Rotterdam voters, 62% agreed that it is regrettable that mosques increasingly dominate the street image (among Labour Party voters this support was 52%; among Liveable Rotterdam voters 82%). And a large majority, also from Labour Party voters, supported the statement that 'criminal Antilleans should be deported'.

For the Labour Party, the electoral result of Liveable Rotterdam in 2002 was not only an expression of views it opposed. Some party members later called it a 'wake up call'. They believed that views and problems, also related to Rotterdam's superdiversity, were not to be ignored or trivialised anymore. A new party leader was one of the authors of a pamphlet in 2004 stating that:

The decrease of trust in government affected our party more than other parties. For many Rotterdam citizens the Labour Party was the face of government. Was the Labour Party not responsible for …. [among others] the insufficient integration of newcomers? The voters have punished us for this. And we have learned our lesson. (Labour Party 2004)

He and other Labour Party councilmen chose a strategy of not disapproving everything the Liveable Rotterdam executive proposed. Sometimes that also led to controversy when for instance the Labour Party leader "was attacked by the Cape Verdean community after the Labour Party released a report about sexual intimidation and incest within that community" (Volkskrant 8/5/2006). In the 2004 pamphlet, the Labour Party also clearly stated that groups such as young Moroccan and Antilleans people were overrepresented in crime statistics and it proposed stricter rules for immigration of young Antilleans and also that Antilleans already in Rotterdam should be registered (Labour Party 2004). For the 2006 election, a new Rotterdam Labour Party leader received this advice from his national party leader:

Choose exactly the same themes as Liveable [Rotterdam]. And do not campaign against the current executive policy. Say we will do the same, only much better. (RD 4/4/2005)

After the election, the Labour Party interpreted the election result as a dual assignment. The executive established a 'social programme' (*sociaal programma*) to make it clear that apart from continuing former executive policy the executive also wanted to improve the city mainly with more focus on social themes, such as improving employment, education, and social cohesion.

We face a large challenge. In some neighbourhoods over 40% of the working population is unemployed and over 15% depends on welfare ... In many Rotterdam neighbourhoods more than 60% of the people have low to very low education. Too many Rotterdam inhabitants do not speak the language well enough. (Rotterdam 2006b: 9)

The executive regarded improving these statistics as the main challenge for its social programme. The social programme was aimed to improve the 'weakest' in society whose lives, according to one alderman, had not been improved under the former executive (interview). The executive announced that everyone should participate and no one would be left behind. It proclaimed that Rotterdam would once again be a city 'where everyone counts', and where all work 'together towards a non-divided city' (NRT 2006).

Nothing but positivity is coming from [City Hall]. [Alderman] Kaya (Green Party) believes that the gap between people from Dutch origin and people from foreign origin… will be somewhat more closed. Alderman Kriens (Labour Party) refuses even to think in those categories: 'The gap for us is interpreted as between people who participate and people who keep other people from participating'. (Trouw 19/9/2006)

It quickly turned out that the executive, apart from its social programme to help the most needy, also continued taking a tough stance towards people that in the executive's view 'limit other people to participate'. This stance, developed under the previous executive legislature, is described as entailing a series of changes in common views of social issues … This approach was demonstrated through plans and projects. The 2006 coalition accord uses phrases such as 'establishing clear borders', 'reciprocity', and 'firmly address people' who 'pass on opportunities' (Rotterdam 2006a: 2). Such rhetoric and the desire to help people go hand in hand (Rotterdam 2006a: 4–11), also regarding integration.

From its start, the executive indicated that it would stop using the word 'integration'. Instead, it promoted the word 'participation' to indicate that everyone should be included, with no distinction between groups of people (such as people from Dutch or foreign origin).

In the beginning of 2007, the executive and alderman Kaya (Green Party) presented a more elaborated vision on 'participation' in the report 'City Citizenship: the motto is participation' (*Stadsburgerschap: het motto is meedoen*). The report consists of five themes: city pride, reciprocity, identity, participation, and establishment of behavioural norms. The report emphasises the importance of participation in society and stresses that every inhabitant has duties as well as rights, such as 'to use Dutch as the common language' and to uphold Western values such as the equality of men and women, hetero- and homosexuals, believers and non-believers, and not to accept honour killing, or female circumcision' (Rotterdam 2007: 6–7).

The media noted that that the City Citizenship report contained several points the former executive had raised and alderman Kaya, at that time councilmen for the Green Party, had called discriminating (Parool 2007). Personal aides of alderman Kaya acknowledged that his vision was not that much different from that of his Liveable Rotterdam predecessor (interview). And even though words such as 'ethnicity' and 'integration' were avoided in the City Citizenship report, they were more evident in other aspects of executive policy. In 2008, following the Antillean Approach, a 'Moroccan Approach' was created to decrease the high rate of recidivism among Moroccans. This approach provides family coaches, homework assistants and a 'case manager' for several young Moroccans to help them find jobs, internships, and housing (Rotterdam 2009: 63–64). Later, also problems with Poles were discussed openly.

#### **5.7 Concluding Remarks**

The case of Liveable Rotterdam is interesting because it shows the sudden rise of a new *protest populist* party and the disruption it can cause to a relatively stable political landscape. It also shows how it can accomplish change.

The political change that took place in 2002 regarding integration and superdiversity was first and foremost a change in style and the way Rotterdam government and the executive dealt with integration problems. Fortuyn, party founder Sørensen, and alderman Pastors were very sceptical about the benefits of superdiversity and at the very least wanted to discuss related problems in the open. Their stances on integration often stirred controversy. They however did not always lead to policy changes. And when it did, this went slower and the results were often less 'harsh' than the initial proposals. For policy change, Liveable Rotterdam had to depend on others. In a consensual system such as in the Netherlands, it takes time to build the necessary coalitions, to persuade former adversaries, make compromises, and so on. And regarding integration, it was especially Liveable Rotterdam's coalition partner the Christian Democratic Party that countered Liveable Rotterdam on several occasions, eventually also supporting a vote of no confidence, leading to Pastors' dismissal. The changes that did succeed could generally count on broader support than only from the Liveable Rotterdam politicians. And this was important in 2006 when the Labour Party returned to power. In 2006, the first noteworthy change was the style of the new executive. It wanted to make no distinction between groups of people. However, there was policy continuity as well (just as there had been in 2002). Especially the obligations connected to being part of Rotterdam society such as to use Dutch as common language and to uphold Western values such as the equality of men and women, hetero- and homosexuals, believers and non-believer were strongly maintained. This continuity came forth from the belief of several Labour politicians thought/decided that some proposals originating from Liveable Rotterdam were not as bad as they had initially judged them to be, and – related to that point – from the electoral results. Both the elections of 2002 and 2006 showed that Liveable Rotterdam with its attention for the problems of integration had the support of a large part of the Rotterdam electorate – support that remains until this day. And in 2014, Liveable Rotterdam once again became part of the governing coalition. In 2006, the general feeling among most parties was that such problems should not be ignored as the Labour Party more or less did during the electoral campaign in 2002. When the Labour Party returned to power in 2006 it wanted to put this lesson in practice. This meant that on the one hand it wanted to implement policy its electorate expected: attention for the weaker in society. On the other hand, the Labour Party maintained some of the changes of the previous executive as it acknowledged the worries of a large part of the Rotterdam electorate as well.

#### **References**


Volkskrant. (2006). *Een ondankbare taak*. 8/5/2006.

Vossen. (2013). Different flavours of populism in the Netherlands. In R. Stefano (Ed.), *The new faces of populism*. University of Rome.

Zaslove, A. (2008). Here to stay? Populism as a new party type. *European Review, 3*, 319–336.

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## **Chapter 6 Walking the Walk' Rather Than 'Talking the Talk' of Superdiversity: Continuity and Change in the Development of Rotterdam's Immigrant Integration Policies**

**Rianne Dekker and Ilona van Breugel**

#### **6.1 Introduction**

Rotterdam is commonly characterised as pioneering in immigrant integration governance, often functioning as a predecessor for national and local policies in other cities. Before the first national integration policies were drafted in the Netherlands, Rotterdam already developed integration policies to deal with the interethnic tensions in the '*Afrikaanderwijk*'-neighbourhood. Also more recently Rotterdam's policies were marked as pioneering, setting an example for other national and local policies. The best known example is the national law '*Wet Bijzondere Grootstedelijke Problematiek'*, also known as the Rotterdam Act. This national law was developed in Rotterdam and offers large cities the discretion to develop measures for specific urban problems in their city. Ethnic segregation and inequalities were the main underlying reason for Rotterdam to develop this policy. A local motto – 'deeds, not words' (in Dutch '*Geen woorden maar daden*') – expresses the hands-on attitude for which the city and its citizens are known. This maxim is reflected in the city's integration policies as well.

Throughout the years Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies have taken many different shapes. With regard to the topic of superdiversity, it is interesting to analyse how the target groups addressed by integration policies have been constructed. This provides insight in the ways in which the city has constructed and

R. Dekker (\*)

I. van Breugel Department of Public Administration and Sociology, Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: vanbreugel@essb.eur.nl

The authors would like to thank the anonymous reviewers and Angelique van Dam for their helpful comments on earlier versions of this chapter.

Utrecht University School of Governance, Utrecht University, Utrecht, The Netherlands e-mail: r.dekker1@uu.nl

addressed the diversity of its population. During the 1980s, Rotterdam signalled that generic socio-economic incentives were not sufficient to deal with the deprivation of ethnic minority groups. Consequently, targeted socio-economic measures were designed for these groups. These were the first in their kind in the Netherlands. In the early 2000s, the multicultural backlash (Vertovec and Wessendorf 2010) made facilitating targeted measures for ethnic minorities politically undesirable. Under a more right-wing government, local policies then came to focus on targeted sociocultural assimilation instead. This was followed by a generic targeting of all citizens of Rotterdam, when immigrant integration policies were replaced by an urban citizenship framework between 2006 and 2014. In response to most recent developments, integration was explicitly put back on the policy agenda again in 2014. This chapter analyses the development of Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies and its target groups over these past four decades.

In the four decades since Rotterdam developed its first integration policies in 1978, the population of Rotterdam with an immigrant background (first and second generation) increased to nearly 50% of the total population. The city counts around 170 different nationalities and on top of that there are increasing numbers of citizen of a second, third and fourth generation 'migrant background' with mixed ethnic backgrounds (COS 2011). Contemporary conditions of immigration are now often understood in terms of the growing scale and complexity of diversity, so called 'superdiversity' (Vertovec 2007). Superdiversity is understood as a dynamic interplay of a plurality of variables including country of origin, mode of migration, degree and type of nationality, legal status, socio-economic status, language, religion, and degree and type of transnationality (Ibid: 1024). But the concept also draws attention to other "*axes of difference like gender, education, age cohorts and generations"* (cf. Vertovec 2007; Crul 2015: 54).

The notion of superdiversity is often applied to societies that, due to long histories of immigration, have become so diverse that their diversity has become one of their defining characteristics. This development then is argued to challenge existing models of integration as *"the idea of assimilation or integration becomes at any rate more complex in a situation where there is no longer a clear majority group into which one is to assimilate"* (Ibid.: 57; see also Vertovec 2007; Alba and Nee 2003; Blommaert and Maly 2014; Glick Schiller and Çağlar 2009). Whom should be addressed by immigrant integration policies, and can separate groups be distinguished at all? The superdiversity literature suggests that rather than distinguishing and targeting specific ethnic groups in integration policies, these groups have diversified so much that one can no longer speak of clearly bounded groups altogether (Cantle 2012; Alba 2005; Bouchard 2011). According to Vertovec, the intersectionality and plurality of variables relating to diversity is not new, it is however the "*emergence of their scale, historical and policy-produced multiple configuration and mutual conditioning that now calls for the conceptual distinction*" (2007: 1026). It is thus expected that the focus of immigrant integration policies is shifting from groups to individuals. These conditions of superdiversity lead to a reconsideration of the very model of integration and the target groups that are addressed, as described in the literature on interculturalism (Wood 2009; Zapata Barrero 2013).

In this chapter we will analyse how these issues of targeting and models of immigrant integration have played a role in Rotterdam immigrant integration policies since the first policies were defined in 1978. We study how the local government of Rotterdam addresses the ethnic diversity of its population in integration policies. Our analysis is guided by the following two research questions: First, *how has the city of Rotterdam targeted its ethnic diversity with integration policies over the past four decades?* Second, we aim to gain a better understanding of how key moments of change in policy targeting can be explained. For this, we turn to changes in the problem, political and policy context (Kingdon 1984). This is addressed by the second research question: *How can the change and continuity in targeting of Rotterdam's integration policies be explained by the local problem, policy and political context?*

The chapter is divided in six sections. In the following section we will outline our theoretical points of departure concerning policy framing and targeting. Subsequently we briefly introduce our methods of data collection and analysis. The fourth section entails a historic overview of the development of integration policies in Rotterdam, focusing on policy frames, constructions of target groups and key moments of policy change – addressing the first research question. The fifth section relates the empirical findings to the second research question and adds an explanatory element: how can we understand key moments of change in how Rotterdam has been targeting diversity? The sixth and final section draws the conclusions of this chapter and discusses them in relation to the other chapters of this volume.

#### **6.2 Policy Frames and the Social Construction of Target Groups**

Migrant integration policies by definition focus on immigrants and ethnic minorities. Nevertheless, different target groups can be discerned within the integration policies over time. A constructivist approach to policy assumes that there is no objective reality of policy problems, but that policy problems are socially constructed. Policies consist of a causal story or 'frame' in which a problem definition, causal narrative and solution are defined (Stone 1989; Schön and Rein 1994). An important part of this is the definition of a target group towards which the policy focuses its efforts (Schneider and Ingram 1997). The social construction of target groups refers to the recognition of shared characteristics that distinguish a target population as socially

meaningful, and the attribution of specific, values, symbols and images to the characteristics (Schneider and Ingram 1993). The way target groups are constructed in policy design is closely related to target group constructions that are common in society. Policymakers respond to, perpetuate, and help create social constructions of target groups in anticipation of public approval or approbation (Ingram et al. 2007: 106). Consequently benefits and burdens are assigned through public policies through the structure of these target groups (Schneider and Ingram 1997).

The way citizens are targeted by policies, in the first place has a direct influence on the target populations themselves. Policies shape the experience of target groups and send implicit messages about how important their problems are to the government and whether or how they are expected to participate (Ingram et al. 2007: 96). Target group constructions shape the political orientations and opportunity structures for the participation of target populations (Ibid.: 98). When target group constructions are negative they discourage political participation, Schneider and Ingram (1993) refer to this effect of target grouping as degenerative politics or policy design. Positive target group constructions on the other hand, may enhance political participation of these groups.

Secondly, target group constructions in policies have an effect on how these target groups are perceived by others in society. It legitimizes and strengthens preexisting social constructions of the target groups in society. Policies also shape institutions and the broader culture through both the instrumental (resource) effects of policy (such as new rules and new organizations) and the rhetorical/symbolic (interpretive) effects. Because target group constructions in policy strongly interact with those in society, they are generally disproportionally advantageous towards the already advantaged, while negatively constructed groups benefit disproportionally little from the policies.

Schneider and Ingram's model of target groups provides a suitable framework to analyse continuity and change in Rotterdam's integration policies in relation to the assumed increased diversity of its urban population. It is relevant to analyse which target groups have been addressed by integration policies as this provides insight in the ways in which Rotterdam has constructed and addressed the diversity of its population.

#### **6.3 Data and Methodology**

This chapter is based on combined data from two recent research projects, 'UniteEurope' (www.uniteeurope.org) and 'Upstream' (www.project-upstream.eu), both conducted at the Department of Public Administration and Sociology of Erasmus University Rotterdam. We have collected data on Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies from 1978 onward consisting of 63 relevant policy documents and in-depth semi-structured interviews with 18 policymakers and politicians who were involved in Rotterdam's integration policy development since 2000.

In this chapter we analyse change and continuity in target group constructions in Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies through time, in order to understand how the city acts upon the diversity of its population. According to Schneider and Ingram (1993), changes in target group constructions in policy reflect changing notions of who are deserving and undeserving in society. Based on the analytical framework by Schneider and Ingram (1997) we have analysed Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies over the past four decades tracing whether migrant groups are targeted specifically or generically (aimed at all citizens) and we reconstructed whether policy measures were focused on attributing benefits or burdens to the defined target groups. In a sense policies are always targeted, as they are designed to meet a certain policy goal. However we distinguish policies that explicitly target immigrants separately from policies that target the citizens of Rotterdam in general (or by another classification than their ethnicity or migration background). The distinction between benefiting and burdening policies is sometimes hard to make (Schneider and Ingram 1993: 338), it is thus important to take the policy aim into account to understand the difference. Benefiting policies stand generally positive toward the target group and provide measures to further encourage their efforts. Burdening policies on the other hand perceive of the target group's behaviour as undesirable and aim for changes in certain behaviour. The distinction thus merely lies in how the policies perceive the target groups intentions and behaviours and whether policies can be understood as either facilitating and rewarding or more demanding and punishing policies. The boundary between the two categories can be ambiguous. For example, language programmes can be categorised both as beneficial as burdening, depending on whether it is framed as facilitating and empowering, or as obligatory and burdening when participation or a certain exam result is required.

Target group constructions change in correspondence with (perceived) changes in society. This may include perceived changes in the problem context of migrant integration or perceived success or failure of previous policies. In order to understand changes in targeting of Rotterdam's integration policies we will contextualize policy shifts by changes in the policy, political and problem context. This adheres to Kingdon's (1984) multiple streams approach. The problem stream entails toward what policy problems attention is attributed. We look at what aspects of diversity are problematized as integration problems. Specifically, we focus on whether there is attention for socio-economic, socio-cultural, legal-political or spatial aspects of diversity. The policy stream includes different solutions that are available to the problem. We evaluate what measures are chosen (benefits or burdens) and how the results of prior measures are evaluated. For example, the backlash against multiculturalism signalled a negative evaluation of group benefits. The politics stream concerns whether policymakers have the political motive and opportunity for policy change. In order to evaluate changes in the political context, we evaluate the makeup of the city executive and city council during successive political periods.

#### **6.4 Tracing Continuity and Change in Rotterdam's Integration Policies**

#### *6.4.1 1978–1985: Rotterdam Immigrant Integration Policies: The Initial Years*

Until 1978, the local government of Rotterdam did not have policies dealing with immigrants or migrant integration. In line with the Dutch national policy stance, it was expected that guest workers were to stay temporarily. Even though there were no integration policies at that time, several developments and events took place that in a later stage were seen as integration issues and early initiatives of integration policy. For example, many societal and religious organizations helped the foreign workers to find their way in Rotterdam and achieve a better socio-economic position (De Nieuwe Rotterdamers 1991).

A particularly important moment were the 1972 riots in the Afrikaanderwijk. In the Afrikaanderwijk many houses were turned into pensions to rent out to Turkish labour migrants. This was a lucrative business as large numbers of labour migrants were housed in single family apartments. This led to a housing shortage for native Dutch families. A number of citizens of Rotterdam, including many dockers, started a riot invading the pensions and throwing the furniture out. These events led to a first attempt to develop an integration policy to redistribute immigrants over Rotterdam's neighbourhoods. The city council accepted a policy that set a maximum of 5% of migrant inhabitants to all neighbourhoods of Rotterdam. However, early policy initiatives for ethnically targeted spatial dispersal in 1972 and 1979 were revoked by the Council of State of the Netherlands. Nevertheless, the presence of a growing immigrant population in the city gained the local government's attention.

In 1978, the municipality of Rotterdam was the first in the Netherlands to formulate a memorandum on immigrant integration: 'Immigrants in Rotterdam' (Nota Migranten in Rotterdam 1978). This memorandum even preceded the first national report on integration of ethnic minorities by the Netherlands Scientific Council for Government Policy (WRR) which is generally considered to be the report that led to the first national integration policy, the Dutch 'ethnic minority policy' (WRR 1979) that was first to recognize integration as a policy issue and has become known by its multiculturalist policy frame. In the Rotterdam policy of 1978 it was already written – that "*It is remarkable that many still believe that we are dealing with a temporary phenomenon"* (1978:4) – while explicitly referring to the National government.

Unlike the early targeted burdening attempts to promote ethnic residential dispersion, Rotterdam's first integration policy was concerned with the worsening socio-economic position of the growing immigrant community, owing primarily to gradually rising unemployment (Nota Culturele Minderheden in het Rijnmondgebied 1981). The policy addressed the immigrants' position on the labour market and the related educational attainments of immigrants. There was also attention for improving the quality of housing and to promote a more even distribution of immigrants over the city. Additionally, the city encouraged inter-ethnic contact through organized meetings in the neighbourhoods and there was a focus on political integration. Inequality in socio-economic, legal-political and spatial terms were the main concerns of the policy. An equal legal status was perceived to be a prerequisite for socio-economic and spatial integration. Setting an example for the first national integration policy, immigrants were encouraged to retain their own culture and identity (Veenman 2000). Exemplary of this attempt is that a summary of the policy note was also published in the most common immigrant languages. Nowadays this would be unthinkable.

Interestingly, instead of targeting immigrant groups specifically, the policy addressed the population of Rotterdam in general and the Rotterdam authorities focused on making existing services available to immigrants. "*It is of upmost importance not to distinguish between allochtoneous and autochtoneous citizens. This means that we need to pursue universal policy for both groups. That should stay this way"* (Nota Migranten in Rotterdam 1978: 2). Thus, while addressing integration as a new and separate policy priority, this was explicitly done in universalist terms, addressing all citizens of Rotterdam generically.

#### *6.4.2 1985–1998: Integration from First to Second Generation*

During the 1980s and 1990s, the number of immigrants in Rotterdam increased, partially as a result of family reunification. At the same time, the socio-economic position of ethnic minorities in the city worsened and inter-ethnic tensions between Dutch and foreign workers again grew. Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies in this period remained focused on the socio-economic position of ethnic minorities. Additionally, the growing inter-ethnic tensions between native Dutch and foreign workers were addressed. Temporary housing arrangements were not always sufficient and the housing situation of immigrants concentrated in certain neighbourhoods caused nuisance (De Nieuwe Rotterdamers 1991). From the mid-1980s onwards the realization grew that generic anti-deprivation policies were by themselves not sufficiently effective to improve the socio-economic position of immigrants (see also Veenman 2000: 11). This marked a period of tougher and targeted integration policies: "*Just a few years ago, it was thought that with the second generation of immigrants, integration issues would be solved. Their parents were considered to be a lost generation but it was believed that their children would find their way. This optimism has vanished"* (Minderhedenbeleid in een Gewijzigde Situatie 1985: 14).

There was a growing perception that the initial measure of providing support to disadvantaged groups was creating a culture of dependency rather than one of economic self-sufficiency, as was desired. The focus of this new phase in Rotterdam's integration policy was therefore no longer exclusively on the rights of immigrants but there was also a new emphasis on the immigrant's responsibilities toward society, particularly the responsibility to become self-reliant. This was part of a broader 'social renewal' policy in Rotterdam (De Nieuwe Rotterdamers 1991). Local authorities warned that undesirable behaviour – including youth crime and anti-social behaviour – would be clamped down on (Veenman 2000). This marked a change to more specific measures: "*Before, there was a strong tendency to confine specific measures for immigrants to a minimum. This was pursued because we were afraid that they would increase or at least confirm segregation*" (Memorandum Inzake het Minderhedenbeleid in de jaren '90 1988: 15). Now, Rotterdam concluded that generic measures were insufficient and unorthodox measures were needed (Memorandum Inzake het Minderhedenbeleid in de jaren '90 1988).

In general, these measures were primarily beneficial for ethnic minorities. Rotterdam enacted temporary specific measures for immigrant economic integration as part of the general anti-deprivation policy (Minderhedenbeleid in een Gewijzigde situatie 1985; Memorandum Inzake het Minderhedenbeleid in de jaren '90 1988). For example, education was provided to enhance the immigrant's opportunities on the labourmarket. This concerned instituting special vocational training facilities, Dutch language courses, anti-discrimination measures and jobcreation schemes. The Project Integration of Newcomers (PIN, in Dutch '*Project Integratie Nieuwkomers'*) that was initiated in 1991 and was executed by the Rotterdam department of Social Affairs and Employment incorporated such immigrant courses and was mandatory for welfare recipients with an immigrant background (Muskens 1995). The PIN-courses can be considered a precursor of national civic integration courses. Rotterdam also pursued affirmative action programmes to improve the socio-economic position of immigrants. For example, attention was raised for the role of the Rotterdam administration as a large and exemplary employer that should reflect on its policy of hiring immigrant employees.

Targeted socio-economic measures were aimed at decreasing inequalities and did not interfere in cultural adaptation. Rotterdam stimulated efforts by ethnic minorities to hold on to their culture, identity and religion. Exemplary of this is that space for mosques was reserved by the local government (Moskeeën in Rotterdam 1992). During the 1990s, Rotterdam counted 190 immigrant self-organizations and support organizations (Muskens 1995:17). Some of them were subsidized by the municipality or sub municipalities to enhance integration and emancipation of immigrants. The government's relations with subsidized organisations was put on a new footing during the 1990s, when more accountability and marked objectives were pursued (Muskens 1995).

#### *6.4.3 1998–2002: The Multi-coloured City*

The political period from 1998 to 2002 was marked by multicultural policies. While policies in the earlier period did not intervene in the socio-cultural dimension of integration, policies in this period explicitly encouraged cultural diversity, marking a shift in targeting. *GroenLinks* (Green party) Alderman Herman Meijer (1994–2002) was one of the driving forces behind this policy shift, in which Rotterdam's diversity was presented as a strength (Met Raad en Daad 1998). This diversity policy did not only target immigrants, it also addressed women, youths and disabled people.

With regard to ethnic minorities, priority goals of the Multi-Coloured City policy (in Dutch: '*Veelkleurige Stad*') were (1) to enhance the participation of allochtoneous citizens in subsidized organizations and initiatives, (2) for the administration of Rotterdam to hire more allochtoneous personnel, also in higher positions, (3) to change the cultural policies of Rotterdam in order to fit the new cultural diversity of the population and (4) to promote and encourage ethnic entrepreneurship and labour market participation (Uitvoeringsprogramma Werk en Economie 1998: 12–13). To this end, a program manager and program team were appointed. Next to this, a think tank was constituted of 'diverse' citizens to generate and evaluate ideas. Iconic for this policy phase is the subprogram 'Education in current allochtoneous languages' (In Dutch: '*Onderwijs in Allochtone Levende Talen*') which was implemented in 1998 to offer education in migrant languages at primary schools. This entailed a national regulation that was a good fit with Rotterdam's local integration policy at the time.

The coalition- and execution program '*Met Raad en Daad'* problematizes that public services, cultural events, employee stocks and administrative boards do not sufficiently reflect the diversity of the population. The Rotterdam administration therefore strives to alter the situation via the policy programme 'The Multi-Coloured City' (Uitvoeringsprogramma Veelkleurige stad 1998). Key to this programme was a positive reinforcement of diversity in all policy domains. Public services, organizations, policies and events were checked for their culturally diverse character. "*This creates the opportunity for Rotterdam as one of the first cities to present itself as a multicultural city. A city that citizens are proud of and that benefits from all its diverse talents, and that challenges allochtoneous citizens to claim the position they (wish to) take in Rotterdam"* (Uitvoeringsprogramma Veelkleurige stad 1998: 4). The focus was not on socio-cultural contradictions and conflict but on the beneficial nature of cultural diversity. On the socio-economic and spatial dimension of integration, the Rotterdam administration struggled between developing generic policies and specific policies targeting certain ethnic minority groups. Policymakers feared that targeted policies would consolidate social segregation. In 1998 Rotterdam published the Memorandum 'Effective Policy on Minorities' (in Dutch: '*Kadernota Effectief Allochtonenbeleid'*). Even though it observed that the socio-economic and educational position of immigrants had improved, it also concluded they still lagged behind in terms of education, labour market participation and housing conditions. It urged immigrants to fully make use of the opportunities offered through existing welfare arrangements. The Memorandum 'Effective Policy on Minorities' concluded that general policy measures would be pursued where possible, but specific arrangements for ethnic minorities are implemented where necessary. This was done in case of deficiencies that concern specific ethnic groups or in case of promising initiatives that could be encouraged (1998). One example of such a specific integration measure is the '*Lus di Trafiko*' (Traffic light) programme, aimed at the (civic) integration of citizens of Antillean origins. To summarize, between 1998 and 2002 Rotterdam integration policies expanded to the social-cultural dimension, explicitly framing diversity as a strength of the city and targeting all citizens. Policy measures on the socio-economic dimension of integration became more targeted. Rotterdam's integration policies during this period balanced between specific and generic policy measures.

#### *6.4.4 2002–2006: Local Multicultural Backlash*

As of 2002, immigrant integration was high on the political agenda when the new political party '*Leefbaar Rotterdam*' emerged. *Leefbaar Rotterdam* propagated that many ethnic minority citizens were insufficiently integrated in the society of Rotterdam. They primarily referred to the socio-cultural dimension of integration, with a specific focus on social and normative cohesion. *Leefbaar* made immigrant integration one of the main election themes during the local elections of March 2002, which contributed to their electoral success. With 34,7% of the votes, *Leefbaa*r won these elections and became the largest party in the city council. They constituted a political coalition in which they provided three aldermen, together with *CDA* (Christian Democrats – 2 aldermen) and *VVD* (Liberal – 2 aldermen). For the first time in many years, the *PvdA (*Social Democrats) were not part of the coalition.

The new coalition announced a radical break with the previous integration policies. This is indicated by the Coalition Agreement:

*In the run up to the 2002 local elections, the feeling amongst many citizens and counsellors had rose that the city had permitted too much change and diversity in the preceding years, leading to social tension and distance between people. People felt as if Rotterdam was no longer their city, not feeling at home in their streets. [...] This translated in the election turnout, which can be summarized in one sentence: things have to change, the cohesion has to be restored.* (Het Nieuwe Elan van Rotterdam 2002)

Priority of the coalition was to enhance the identification of citizens with Rotterdam and thereby to reinforce social integration or social cohesion. As a necessary condition for integration, the coalition prioritizes limiting safety issues in Rotterdam by a more repressive policy approach. Vice versa, they expected that more social cohesion would contribute to safety. By stressing good manners and public order, the strengthening of social cohesion in Rotterdam was not only a goal in itself but served first and foremost as a means to prevent criminality and nuisance (Uitermark and Duyvendak 2008).

In contrast to the previous political period, integration was propagated in more assimilationist terms, particularly with regard to the socio-cultural dimension of integration. Additionally spatial and social segregation and deprivation are explicitly linked to the immigrant population. As a local administrative memorandum states: "*the influx of immigrants concerns people that in social-economic development, language, culture and religion are on a far distance from the Rotterdam-average [...] this coincides with the high concentration of these groups in certain districts; e.g. segregation"* (Rotterdam zet door: op weg naar een stad in balans 2003). Policy measures however did not always fit this rhetoric shift to assimilationism. The framework document on social integration (Kadernotitie Sociale Integratie 2003) proposes to solve the lack of social integration by bringing people together in a cultural and spatial sense. The aimed result of this is active citizenship which involves engagement and involvement with others in the street and the neighbourhoods, as well as with Rotterdam and its citizens as a whole. Local sports activities or 'street barbecues' were for example organized to bring a diverse group of citizens in contact with each other. Benefits for social activities were distributed implicitly. Uitermark and Duyvendak (2008) referred to this as 'assertive social policy' as the municipality does not merely facilitate citizen actions but actively stimulates them to do so.

In other cases, the political contrasts between *Leefbaar Rotterdam* and other political parties in the city council prevented assimilationist measures. In the following we discuss three contested examples, firstly, the 'Rotterdam Act'. An annual prognoses publication of the Rotterdam Bureau of Statistics estimated that in 2017 ethnic minorities would make up over 50% of the entire city-population, with numbers up to 85% in the sub-district of Charlois. In response to this 'alarming' report, Alderman Pastors for infrastructure and housing of Leefbaar Rotterdam argued for an 'immigrant-stop' (*'allochtonenstop'*) and a "*fence around Rotterdam*" to prevent underprivileged immigrants from moving into the city (NRC Handelsblad 2003, September 12).

The measure caused a lot of political controversy. While outside his party, Pastor's proposal could initially not count on much political support, there was a shared notion that the influx of 'disadvantaged households' to vulnerable neighbourhoods had to be regulated. Eventually the measure was reformulated, targeting 'disadvantaged households' in terms of income and employment rather than targeting by ethnicity. The regulation was proposed as a national regulation offering large cities in the Netherlands the discretion to develop measures for specific urban problems in their city. In 2003, the national '*Wet Bijzondere Grootstedelijke Problematiek'*, also known as the Rotterdam-Act, was accepted. Albeit still politically contested – particularly the measure aimed at spreading of disadvantaged people over neighbourhoods to prevent concentration and 'ghettoization' – the law was enforced on January 1st, 2006 and still runs today.

A second example the political controversy, typical of this coalition period, often not (fully) putting proposals into action is a policy proposal by alderman Pastors to limit the construction of large mosques in Rotterdam, in 2004. This policy was called Spatial Mosque Policy (in Dutch: 'Ruimtelijk Moskeebeleid. Een Kader voor Nieuwbouw en Verbouw van Gebedshuizen' 2004). In this policy, the construction of mosques is explicitly connected to integration of Islamic minorities. The city council claimed that *"the realization of large, prestigious plans to build mosques no longer fits in Rotterdams integration policy"* (Ibid: 4). Criticism arose among the sub-municipal governments and the political opposition. *Leefbaar* Alderman Marco Pastors eventually had no choice but to withdraw the proposed policy.

A third and final example is the 'Rotterdam Citizenship Code'. Next to social cohesion, the city council's integration policy also propagated 'normative cohesion'. This stressed that citizens share certain values, norms and behaviours. Instead of diversity as propagated in the previous period, the city council sought conformity between citizens. This search for socio-cultural common ground was most prominent in a series of debates that was initiated. There was the Day of Dialogue, debates on 'Islam and integration' and other similar activities. The city council aimed to take the lead in debates about spatial concentration, segregation and dispersal of minority groups, a pluriform society, norms and values and the Islam. As the final product of the integration campaign '*Rotterdam Mee'* (2005–2006) the city council formulated the 'Rotterdam Citizenship Code' (Rotterdamse Burgerschapscode 2006). This outlines the position of the Rotterdam city council in the integration debate. The city council stated that there is a need for such a code because: "*diversity can lead to tensions and conflicts when the norms and values of people differ too much; when people want to force on each other their ideas and behaviours; when their behaviours differ from what is normal. To be able to live together in diversity, it is necessary to formulate a number of values and norms that are recognized by all citizens of Rotterdam. And that we use those norms in our everyday lives"*(Ibid: 1). The Rotterdam Code consists of the following seven rules:

*We, the citizens of Rotterdam,*


Despite the fact that the Code never got accepted by the city council as a municipal guideline, it makes clear that in this policy period for the first time, cultural values of some groups of citizens were explicitly problematized. Differing norms and values are framed as an integration issue. The formulation of favourable norms particularly seemed to address Islamic citizens with differing views on a religious basis. The 2005 action programme 'Participate or Stay behind' (Meedoen of Achterblijven? Actieprogramma Tegen Radicalisering en voor Kansen voor Rotterdamers 2005), aimed at the prevention of Muslim extremism. Radicalisation and extremist actions are conceptualized as the counterpart of socio-cultural integration. As a result of these forces preventing assimilationist measures from coming into force, policy measures were not always as assimilationist as they were claimed to be (Uitermark and Duyvendak 2008).

The (rhetorical) break with the preceding years under rule of *Leefbaar Rotterdam*, marks 2002 as the local backlash against multiculturalism. A turn towards a more assimilationist policies can be recognised. Rather than cultural diversity, social cohesion and (cultural) adaptation are now the key words in the policy documents. Integration policies were closely linked to spatial segregation and issues of safety. In terms of targeting, integration policies in this period focused on ethnic minorities and Muslim minorities specifically. Social cohesion policies on the other hand were aimed at citizens in general.

#### *6.4.5 2006–2014: Urban Citizenship*

In 2006, the social democratic party *PvdA* (social-democrats) returned as the leading party in the coalition. In the two political periods following 2006, we can observe a turn from integration policy to 'participation policy' aimed at all citizens rather than exclusively on immigrants. Citizenship and participation are pivotal terms in this period. Integration is hardly mentioned (explicitly) in policy documents and less policy documents exist than in the period before. This linguistic switch from integration to citizenship shows that not only citizens with a migrant background, but all (disadvantaged) groups of citizens in Rotterdam are targeted by this range of policies. Whilst in the previous period the socio-cultural and spatial dimension of integration were dominant, in the current period, integration is again also framed in terms of socio-economic and legal-political participation. The program broadened the scope of immigrant-integration policies to the 'urban citizenship' of all citizens of Rotterdam (Kadernotitie Stadsburgerschap. Het motto is meedoen 2007). Dialogue and debates fulfil a central role in this period, focusing on the core values of taking pride in the city, reciprocity, identity, participation and ethics. Urban Citizenship is intended to form a generic framework for all policies related to integration, participation, emancipation and citizenship. Nevertheless, it must be noted that some specifically targeted programs and financial support constructions from previous coalition periods were continued, despite the new generic citizenship banner. This includes the programme focussing particularly on Moroccan and Antillean youth (Actieprogramma aanpak risicogroepen van Marokkaanse afkomst en Antilliaanse afkomst 2010) and the specific monitoring of Antillean- and Moroccan-Rotterdam citizens (De Boom et al. 2009, 2011). National subsidies for these programmes institutionalized a path dependency. The programmes were aborted between 2011 and 2012 when the national subsidy was ended and the Rotterdam urban citizenship policy entered a second phase.

Integration policies were drastically redefined between 2006 and 2014, moving away from measures targeted specifically at immigrants, thereby moving away from immigrant integration as a separate policy field altogether. A senior integration policy maker and project leader stated that policy makers rather speak of citizenship or participation, than of integration, "*If you call the communications department of the municipality today and ask whether we have integration policy, we do not."* This also had institutional consequences. Integration policies from 2012 onwards were developed and executed by the municipal cluster 'Societal Development' (in Dutch '*Maatschappelijke Ontwikkeling*'). Subsidy relations with immigrant organizations and other societal organizations were rigorously revised and mostly abolished. In order to preserve the knowledge that these organizations had developed throughout the years, Rotterdam subsidized and cooperated with four newly established 'expertise centres' (in Dutch: '*kenniscentra*') that include some of the earlier organizations1 under their new generic citizenship policies. These centres of expertise deal with diversity, discrimination, women's emancipation and homosexual emancipation and are meant to inform and raise awareness on these topics across different, generic, policy fields. Each consists of one or multiple relevant organizations Rotterdam previously had independent subsidy relations with. Instead the organizations were now required to cooperate and apply for subsidy as a centre of expertise. While the citizenship-frame was already introduced in 2007, the financial reform a few years later proved to be of decisive influence in realizing the new generic framework when subsidies for mono-cultural organizations and projects were cut. This fits a shift in governance towards a smaller and more efficient government who takes the role of a facilitator, outsourcing or abolishing the frontline social work (Brief en beleidsregel Participatie en Kiezen voor Talent 2011).

The citizenship policy frame stresses that urban citizenship does not only come with rights, but also with obligations and responsibilities for each citizen. This dual notion of citizenship is clearly brought forward in the political programme of 2010: "*We will provide space and opportunities to citizens of Rotterdam who are willing and able [to participate, RD], the group that is willing but unable we will support, but at the same time we set boundaries to the ones who are unwilling."* (Coalitieakkoord 2010–2014. Ruimte voor Talent en Ondernemen 2010: 3). The policies focus on a "*full utilisation of one's talents"* (Burgerschapsbeleid Participatie: Kiezen voor Talent 2011: 4) and thus assume and require a willingness from all citizens to participate. Participation is explicitly elevated to an individual responsibility – making the ethnic background irrelevant. Most measures thereby focus on citizens who have not reached the level of self-sufficiency yet. Whilst the government will support people who are 'willing but unable' to participate, the ones who are unwilling will be approached with repressive measures. *"There are people who turn their back to society. Sometimes they are people with radical ideologies who do not wish to respect the law and other citizens. This can concern people who continuously cause nuisance, criminal or uncivilized behaviour. They show no respect for safety and the rights of other people. Those who purposely turn their back to society, can count on repressive measures from judicial institutions and from the Rotterdam municipality to change such developments"* (Kadernotitie Stadsburgerschap: Het Motto is Meedoen 2007: 7).

An exception on the generic approach that characterizes this period is the local translation of the EU labour migrant policies (Uitvoeringsagenda 2013–2014 EU Arbeidsmigratie 2013). The municipality of Rotterdam has been involved with the 'Program EU Labour Migration' since 2007 with other municipalities housing larger concentrations of EU labour migrants and the national government, lobbying

<sup>1</sup>The expertise centre on diversity consists of the 'Association of Islamic Organizations in Rotterdam' (SPIOR) and the 'Platform of Foreigners in Rotterdam' (PBR). The expertise centre on discrimination is formed by the anti-discrimination organization 'RADAR'. The expertise centre on emancipation is formed by the centre for women and emancipation 'Dona Daria'. The expertise centre on homosexual emancipation is constituted by 'Rotterdam Verkeert'.

at the EU to target these EU citizens for integration policies (see also Chap. 8). In Rotterdam this resulted in the publication of the 'Implementation Agenda EU Labour Migration' in 2013. The agenda has a predominant socio-economic focus, "*the emphasis in on 'work'*. *For socially weak migrants barriers can be raised that make their residence in the Netherlands and in Rotterdam more difficult and less attractive. … The migrant is responsible for his or her own position in the Rotterdam society. Self-sustainability is a requirement for everyone, also for the labour migrant"* (2013, 5). In contrast to the other policies in this period, this program is explicitly specific and burdening EU labour migrants in the city.

To summarise, measures were primarily of a socio-economic nature and not specifically targeted at immigrants or ethnic minorities. On the contrary: "*the policy has an inclusive character. No distinction is made based on ethnicity. Mono-ethnic activities are not eligible for subsidies, unless there are strong arguments for doing this"* (Burgerschapsbeleid Participatie: Kiezen voor Talent 2011: 24). Implicit benefitting programs were replaced by more result-oriented approach in neighbourhoods that were behind in health, poverty, integration, participation, living, public space and nuisance (Coalitieakkoord 2010–2014. Ruimte voor Talent en Ondernemen 2010) and partly replaced by a focus on the areas of emancipation, discrimination and diversity (Brief en beleidsregel Participatie en Kiezen voor Talent 2011). While the separate organizations and initiatives were previously subsidized to overcome segregation (Samen leven in Rotterdam. Deltaplan inburgering: op weg naar actief burgerschap) the focus now shifts to a generic approach to enhance equality, solidarity and cohesion. The policies focus on four 'achievement fields' (Emancipation, Anti-discrimination, Diversity and Non-formal Education), for which four expertise centres have been installed, partly run by previously subsidized organisations.

Although the urban citizenship policy program was targeted at all citizens of Rotterdam, some subprograms implicitly or explicitly focus on ethnic minorities. For instance, there is the execution program 'Participation through Language' (Meedoen door Taal 2006). This program intends to improve people's language skills. Most people who participate in the trajectories this program offers, are part of an ethnic minority. Speaking the Dutch language was portrayed as a necessary condition to participate in society. *"Language deficiencies are often at the basis of unemployment, health issues, insufficient societal participation and criminal behaviour"* (Actieprogramma Taaloffensief 2011:3). Besides the language programs there is a policy programme that particularly focusses on ethnic minorities with a Muslim identity. The executive programme 'Building Bridges' (Dialogen Stadsburgerschap. Bruggen Bouwen. Het Motto is Meedoen 2008) aimed at organizing dialogue about urban citizenship. Additionally, at the end of the second Coalition Period (2010–2014), a new integration approach '*Mee(r) doen*' (2011) was launched. While generic in principle the program additionally consisted of several policy measures specifically addressing immigrants, thereby responding and adding to the previous strictly generic approach.

The period between 2006 and 2014 illustrates a shift from explicit and specific targeting of immigrants with burdens to a generic rephrasing in terms of inclusive citizenship, ith the EU-labour migration program as a notable exception. However, this rephrasing was so strongly focused on moving away from specific policies that the issue of integration was not touched upon at all anymore, completely disappearing of side in all policy-departments (Van Breugel and Scholten 2017). What stands out clearly from our analysis is the role of budgetary constraints on the shift toward generic policies. The policy developments toward a generic citizenship frame can thus partly be understood as a consequence of retrenchment of the more active (and sometimes group-specific) integration policies. The broadened policy-framework targeted at all Rotterdam citizens, explicitly aims for active participation of these citizens in society. With its focus on the individual level and primary stress on the citizen's obligations to the city this policy frame can be understood as a further 'responsabilisation' (Van Houdt et al. 2011) of integration or citizenship policies from the city to the individual level.

#### *6.4.6 2014–2018: Back to Specific Targeting*

In the 2014 elections, *Leefbaar Rotterdam* again became the biggest party in the city council and led the new coalition. Similar to 2002, this *Leefbaar* coalition (including *Leefbaar Rotterdam, CDA, D66*) placed explicit focus on migrant integration, moving away from the former generic citizenship approach (Coalitie akkoord 2014: 13). An Alderman of 'Urban development and integration' was installed and in 2015 the 'Integration 010' policy memorandum was published.

Core to the 'Integration 010' is the focus on individual responsibility *"If you choose for Rotterdam, you learn the Dutch language and respect the norms of our society*" (Integratie010 2015: 2). The memorandum distinguishes between those who 'want, know, can and are allowed' to participate and addresses these groups in different ways: *"Informing and dispersing to migrants who do not know; supporting migrants that are not able; protecting migrants that are not allowed; dealing with migrants that do not want"* (Ibid.: 9). The role of the municipality is depicted as monitoring integration problems and *"explaining the rules and motivating people to participate .. [but] they themselves are responsible for their own integration process"* (Ibid.: 2). In contrast to the preceding period, integration is framed as a process that does not happen automatically but rather requires *"hard work by the immigrant"* (Ibid.: 4). The new integration policy only marginally calls upon the 'host society' to provide conditions for participation by 'providing equal opportunities', rather than accommodating diversity.

The Integration010 memorandum and accompanying policy documents emphasize socio-economic and socio-cultural integration, specifically labour market participation, learning the Dutch language (Met taal versta je elkaar 2015) and respecting local norms. In contrast to the previous policy period immigrants or 'new Rotterdamers' (Beleidsregel Volwaardig Meedoen in Rotterdam 2016) are again explicitly targeted. Within that group the memorandum distinguishes several specific target groups, including Somalians, Central-, Eastern- and Southern European labour migrants and 'permit holders' (refugees with a residence permit, '*statushouders*' in Dutch). Separate policy programs were developed for these two groups.

The '*Uitvoeringsagenda EU-arbeidsmigratie 2015–2018*' primarily forms a continuation of the EU Labour Migrant policies in the previous period. It again focuses on responsibility of the EU-labour migrant to participate and contribute to the Rotterdam society. The policies are area-based, targeting those areas where "*the effects of the EU free labour are felt most strongly*" (Uitvoeringsagenda EU-Arbeidsmigratie 2015: 2). Continued focus on participation, in line with the general focus on self-reliance, for all Rotterdam citizens. Areas in which the policy operates are rather similar to the previous policy period (registration, integration, level playing field and return) and an increasing emphasis on repressive measures in case of criminal behaviour and nuisance.

In response to the increased inflow of refugees since 2014, the city government launched a targeted policy programme for permit holders. Alike other Dutch cities, Rotterdam has a national policy obligation to house a minimum number of permit holders. Additionally, the city drafted a comprehensive approach, reaching beyond the national objectives (Rotterdamse Aanpak Statushouders 2016–2020). Integration policies that were disintegrated under the generic urban citizenship policies in past coalition periods, were now partly rebuild for the refugee permit-holders. This approach focused on housing, as well as language and integration (Ibid.: 10). Dispersal of permit holder housing over the city is an explicit target, as it is believed to help integration, furthermore the permit holders are not to be housed in the 'Rotterdam-Act'-neighbourhoods (Ibid.: 13). For the social integration trajectory the municipality cooperated with the Dutch Council for Refugees (in Dutch: '*VluchtelingenWerk Nederland'*). Additionally a private foundation developed and funded a special program for a selection of Syrian refugees, by providing housing and additional integration programs in the city (Stichting Verre Bergen).

In line with the 'integration010' memorandum, the policy for permit holders furthermore focused on language and integration. Rotterdam strives to have the permit holders pass the civic integration exams 1 year earlier than required by the national government, by having the permit holders participate in society 4 days a week in the form of education, work or volunteering work. While the municipality facilitates the opportunities for the permit holders to learn Dutch, the document also stresses the permit holder's own responsibility in the process, which is enforced via the Participation Act and Language Requirement Act (Ibid.: 17). Remarkably, most of the measures are benefitting to this specific target group of permit holders which breaks with the trend in the general integration policy (Integratie010 2015). However, underlying motives for these benefitting socio-economic measures are not only ideological, but also practical. They are expected to prevent problems of labour market access and welfare dependency in the later stages of integration. The integration trajectory is linked to the permit-holder's right to social benefits. Fulfilling the integration trajectory is considered an act of compensation, part of the Participation Act, in which any citizen in Rotterdam is expected to make a societal contribution to compensate for their social benefits. The integration trajectory is thus not only offered as a facility but the commitment of the permit-holders are also strictly enforced and controlled by the municipality to guarantee an equal treatment compared to any other (non-refugee) social beneficiaries. To summarize, while predominantly continuing the burdening, 'responsibilisation' framework of the past two Coalition periods, policies are now explicitly targeted at immigrants, with an increased emphasis on adaptation and assimilation, like we saw with the rise of Leefbaar Rotterdam in 2002. An important exception to this rule are however the policies for refugees who recently acquired a residence permit and living in Rotterdam. Targeted policy measures are both benefitting and burdening (or at least conditional) to them. This is driven by both ideological and practical motives: early activation and participation is expected to diminish welfare dependency among these groups later on.

#### **6.5 Walking the Walk Rather Than Talking the Talk of Superdiversity**

When analysing the development of Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies over the past decades, we can discern different moments of continuity and change in the policy targeting and measures that were applied. Based on the literature on policy frames and targeting (see e.g. Schön and Rein 1994; Schneider and Ingram 1993) we have described how integration policies were targeted over time, and whether the policies were designed to assign benefits or burdens to the distinguished target groups. Thus, this analysis entails an evaluation of the policy's perceptions of diversity and (un)deservingness.

Based on the analysis as outlined in the previous section, we discern six phases. The start of each phase depicts a moment in which we encountered a policy shift. In general we see a development from generic targeting to specific targeting of ethnic minorities, back to generic targeting. At the same time we see a shift from policies benefitting to policies burdening their target groups. This general development in Rotterdam's integration policies is depicted in Table 6.1. In the following we will provide a contextualization of the gradual shifts in integration policy targeting by adding an analysis of the problem, political and policy context (Kingdon 1984).


The first integration policies in Rotterdam (and in the Netherlands in general) were drafted in 1978, in response to the public unrest around housing and the permanent settlement of immigrants. While both at the national and local level the presence of immigrants in the Netherlands was believed to be temporary, the unrest that came to the fore formed a relatively new policy problem context. Rotterdam played a pioneering role in developing the first immigrant integration policies. Despite the public unrest about the availability of public housing, primarily beneficial policies for ethnic minorities were implemented, reflecting broader policies of the social-democratic government coalition in Rotterdam. In this initial period integration was primarily understood as a legal-political issue, as citizenship rights were believed to be a prerequisite for socio-economic and spatial integration. Although this was the first time integration was explicitly addressed, policies were mainly accommodative and intended to encourage participation. The policies were explicitly targeted in generic terms, addressing all Rotterdam citizens alike. There were measures to enhance labour market participation and to encourage inter-ethnic contact. We understand this first period of Rotterdam immigrant integration policies as primarily generic, addressing all citizens of Rotterdam with benefitting measures.

In the following policy period (1985–1998) the primary focus of immigrant integration policies remained the deprivation of ethnic minorities, although then addressed through policies specifically targeting immigrants. The policy context of former (generic) policies was believed to be insufficient to deal with the backlogs as experienced by ethnic minorities in the city. Specifically targeted policies were still primarily framed positively and can thus be labelled as benefitting. In terms of policy strategy however, we see a clear break with the past as the past policies are considered to have insufficiently dealt with the perceived problems. Thus while the perceived policy problems remain roughly the same, it is the policy strategy itself that changes. This policy shift can be further understood from the political context. Although the share of the *Partij van de Arbeid* (Labour party) in the city council strongly diminished in 1994 (from 6 to 2 Aldermen in the coalition), the party remained a constant partner in the coalitions up to 2002.

Up to 1994 policies were mostly focused on the socio-economic dimension of integration. This changed in the period between 1994 and 2002 when the position of Alderman of integration was in hands of *GroenLinks* (Green party) councillor Herman Meijer. While policies previously focused on socio-economic deprivation, in 1998 the problem definition shifts to the perception of diversity as a *strength*. This shift to the socio-cultural dimension of integration, and a positive emphasis thereof, can be linked to Alderman Meijer's efforts. Rather than deprivation, the limited representation and participation of minority groups in society were perceived as a problem. An important policy programme in this period was the Multicoloured City (in Dutch: '*Veelkleurige stad*'). The policy provided targeted benefits for expression of ethnic culture, such as music events. Despite the shift in this frame, policies remain specifically targeted and benefitting in nature, linking it to the political period of 1985–1994.

In 2002 the newly elected coalition leader Leefbaar Rotterdam announced to radically move away from the former policy tradition, breaking with the (recent) multicultural trend. The party problematized the benefitting measures for ethnic minorities in Rotterdam and made this into one of the central arguments of their election campaign and later on their work in the coalition. In this policy period (2002–2006) policy-measures remained specifically targeted at immigrant groups, but the character of the measures moves towards burdening. This shift takes place against the background of a wider perceived backlash against multiculturalism at the national and European level, in which a widespread perception that multicultural policies have failed prevails (Vertovec and Wessendorf 2010). Diversity is no longer (only) perceived as a strength but framed as a problem for social cohesion and explicitly linked to safety issues. In terms of targeting, policies in this period increasingly focused on Islam as a problem of its own. Dominant was a rhetorical shift to burdening policies and the explicit specific targeting of immigrants, reflecting the shift in the political context. Albeit the change in focus (from accommodation to adaptation), the specific targeting forms an important continuity with the previous policy period. The political context and remnants from the previous policy phase also explain why, despite the burdening policy narrative, many ethnic-specific policies and subsidies were maintained or how benefiting policies were continuously attributed implicitly.

While Labour came back in the Coalition the next period (2006–2014), the strong presence of Leefbaar Rotterdam in the city council and wider public unrest on integration and former multicultural policies resulted in a shift in a new direction instead of a return to earlier benefitting policies. Whilst the policies remained their focus on adaptation and active participation, the policies were now explicitly generically targeted at all citizens of Rotterdam. This was referred to as 'urban citizenship', following the redefinition as initiated in the previous policy period. The problem perception shifted to a lack of self-reliance and participation of *all* citizens, targeting citizens individually. In 2011 this generic framework was further reinforced when due to austerity measures former subsidy structures and some of the last specific policy measures were revised and vigorously cut. These budgetary cuts proved to be a policy factor of decisive influence. Due to the strong obligatory and individual tone of the policies we understand these as 'generic burdening'. Immigrant integration priorities disappear from the agenda in this period, as the shift to generic policies is not followed up by a clear integration or diversity orientation.

In 2014, *Leefbaar Rotterdam* returned in the city council, and similar to 2002, explicit problematization of integration and targeting of immigrants is observable. During the elections, *Leefbaar Rotterdam* party leader Eerdmans explicitly opposed against the generic urban citizenship frame of 2006–2014, qualifying it as 'lazy' and judging that the Alderman had been neglecting integration issues (cf. Eerdmans 2014). Since *Leefbaar*'s appearance in Rotterdam politics in 2002, the political agenda's on integration have polarised, leading to the sharp turns in the narratives on integration in 2002, 2006 and 2014. *Leefbaar Rotterdam* and Labour and the Liberal-Democrats positioned themselves diametrically against their predecessors on this policy issue. However despite these sharp turns in the narrative, again in 2014 continuity in the policies is evident too, manifesting itself primarily in the continuation of the burdening emphasis in the policies and the emphasis on individual responsibility of its citizens, albeit complemented with specific measures targeting citizens with a migrant background.

In light of these trends a remarkable development took place in 2016. In response to the increased inflow of refugees in Europe and national redistribution arrangements, Rotterdam implemented a rather generous integration program for refugee 'permit-holders'. Although driven by the specific problem context of the increased inflow of refugees, Rotterdam went an extra mile to develop an integration program more ambitious than the national requirements prescribed. Although it fits the socioeconomic focus of the Coalition, it forms a notable addition to the burdening policies of this period.

We can thus discern a pattern of continuity and change as summarised in Table 6.1. While policies moved from generic to specifically targeted between 1985 and 2002, both periods in this timeframe were characterised by benefiting policies. In 2002 the specifically targeted policies were continued, although now the immigrant-groups were primarily targeted with burdening policies. In 2006 the burdening policies were continued, although now under a generic header of (individual) responsibilisation. Finally, from 2014 onward, policies have been targeting and burdening for ethnic minorities and particularly those 'unwilling' to participate.

These changes in targeting indicate larger frame shifts in integration policies that entail the problem definition that is given to integration and the specific dimension of integration where the policies are aimed at. As our analysis has demonstrated, initial integration policies in Rotterdam primarily addressed socio-economic and legal-political deprivation of immigrants and ethnic minorities. From 1998 attention for the socio-cultural and spatial dimensions of integration grew. After 2006, policies again mainly focused on the exercise of rights and obligations by citizens of Rotterdam – a focus on legal-political integration. In 2014, we observe a returned focus on socio-economic integration.

All in all, the analysis indicates that shifts in Rotterdam's integration policies are often gradual and build upon earlier policy phases. For example, we saw how the 'burdening' policies initiated in 2002 still left room for assigning implicit benefits, despite the strong assimilationist frame for integration in that coalition period. Furthermore, after the subsequent shift to generic policies in 2006 a number of targeted policy programmes for Antillean and Moroccan youth were continued. Lastly, the burdening integration policies from 2014 left room for a remarkably benefitting policies for recently arrived refugees holding a residence permit. While the distinguished policy periods can be sharply contrasted in terms of their framing and (acclaimed) models for integration, our analysis also shows clear traces of policy-continuity between the periods: a difference, between the 'walk' and 'talk' of integration governance.

#### **6.6 Conclusions**

In this chapter we analysed Rotterdam's immigrant integration policies over the past four decades: from the first integration memorandum in 1978 until the current integration policies. During these past decades immigrant integration policies in Rotterdam have taken multiple forms. To understand to what extent these developments adhere to Rotterdam's increasingly superdiverse population, we have analysed how the policies were targeted through time and whether the policy measures were primarily of a benefitting or burdening nature. In this chapter we linked the policy changes to shifts in the problem, policy and political context of Rotterdam. This allowed us to analyse whether changes in policy targeting reflect the problem context of increasing superdiversity of Rotterdam's population.

In answer to our first research question, *How has the city of Rotterdam targeted its ethnic diversity with integration policies over the past four decades?* we have distinguished the different means of targeting (specific or generic), the nature of the policies (benefiting or burdening) and the areas the policies focus on (e.g. politicallegal or socio-economic). With regard to the targeting of the integration policies we see gradual shifts between the respective periods. Policies shifted from generic and benefiting policies (1978–1985) to specifically targeted policies (1985–2002). In this period, we can distinguish a phase in which policies primarily focused on the socio-economic dimension of integration and a phase in which policies attended to the socio-cultural dimension of integration. Subsequently there was a shift towards specific, burdening policies (2002–2006) and to generic and burdening policies (2006–2014). From 2014 onward, the policies again became specific and burdening in targeting ethnic minority groups. Notable in this regard is how these changes are gradual, shifting between generic and targeted, and benefitting and burdening policies alternatively.

Central to the developments in Rotterdam immigrant integration governance is the continuous act of balancing between generic and specific policies, and an overall shift towards responsibilisation since 2002. Furthermore, we observe that between the late 1990s and early 2000s the division between specific and targeted measures becomes less strict than in the periods before and after. As the aim to balance between 'general policy measures where possible, but specific arrangements for ethnic minorities if needed' is introduced in this period. Since then we have seen different variations of this mantra, with a shifting emphasis on the former or the latter as a means to stimulate integration.

The responsibilisation of integration priorities was triggered by the shift in emphasis from rights to obligations in the early 1990s, playing an increasingly central role in integration policies since then. Today, benefitting measures are only available for those who are 'willing but unable', including permit holders who arrived in Rotterdam during the 'refugee crisis'. Those who are considered to unwilling to fulfil their civic duties are no longer entitled to government support. Instead, they are burdened. The policies aim to emancipate citizens and ethnic minorities in particular to become independently willing and able, or as the policies phrase it: 'self-reliant'.

With regard to the problem, policy and political context that may have influenced these changes, we see varying influences. The first immigrant integration policies in Rotterdam were developed in direct response to a new problem context of housing shortage and public unrest. In the first two policy periods of 1978–1985 and 1985– 1998 the perceived problems of integration remained largely the same, but the approach of how to deal with the socio-economic backlogs changed from generic to specifically targeted, and more obligatory policies. Subsequent policy changes seem primarily driven by changes in the political context. Most notably in the transitions between different parties leading the coalitions, such as the transition from *Partij van de Arbeid* (Labour) to *GroenLinks* (Green Party) in 1998, the emergence of *Leefbaar Rotterdam* (Livable Rotterdam) in 2002, and the subsequent shift to *Partij van de Arbeid* and *D66* (Democrats 1966) in the Coalition Periods from 2006 to 2014. Each introduced their own problem definitions and matching models and instruments for integration. Although, as the analysis above shows, these changes were often more gradual than suggested by the political narrative.

It is thus important to distinguish between changes at the level of policy measures and political narrative: the 'walk' and 'talk' of integration governance. When we analysed how Rotterdam's integration policies follow the development toward an increasingly superdiverse population of the city, we see an opposite trend in this interplay between narrative and policy measures. Changes in the problem context related to the emergence of superdiversity are never explicitly mentioned at the basis of developments in Rotterdam's integration policies. This finding leads us to the use of the motto of 'deeds rather than words', when it comes to superdiversity, we started this chapter with. It is not until the shift to generic citizenship policies from 2006 onward, that an *implicit* recognition of superdiversity can be recognised when all Rotterdam citizens were universally addressed.

However, this policy shift was not *explicitly* based on the increasingly diverse nature of the city's population, rather inter alia a broader frame of individualisation and wider retrenchment measures (also) play a role here. Besides the move towards generic policies no explicit or active superdiversity orientation was defined. Instead, this policy was reinforced by a problem context of economic austerity and budget cuts that led to a rigorous revision and closing of former specific subsidy programs and policy measures. Furthermore, this policy shift was inspired by a notion of the failure of previous policies. Lastly, the polarized political context of the city council motivated this policy shift. The citizenship policy framework is able to placate multiple political interests (cf. Dekker 2017). With a individualised and generic frame, the citizenship policies fit a superdiverse population. However, the superdiverse problem context or the 'gospel' of interculturalism were not present in the problem definition of these policies. Moreover, the city has recently returned to targeted measures, however not distinguishing target groups on the basis of ethnicity but rather willingness and ability to participate. Therefore we conclude that Rotterdams policies are walking the walk, rather than talking the talk of superdiversity.

#### **References**


Veenman. (2000). *Changing policies on immigrants in Rotterdam*. Erasmus Universiteit Rotterdam.


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Uitvoeringsprogramma Veelkleurige stad 1998. (Multi-coloured city).

Uitvoeringsprogramma Werk en Economie 1998.

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## **Chapter 7 Laboratory Rotterdam. Logics of Exceptionalism in the Governing of Urban Populations**

**Friso van Houdt and Willem Schinkel**

#### **7.1 Rotterdam as 'Policy Laboratory'**

For some time now, Rotterdam has actively portrayed itself as a policy laboratory. This laboratorial rhetoric, as one could call it, has prevailed in the fields of housing, urban problems and welfare provision, and most recently it has also emerged in the context of Rotterdam as a 'smart city'. The latter is nothing special, as technological applications to urban problems are full of 'urban labs', of experimentation and of what Halpern et al. (2013) have called 'test-bed urbanism'. However, in the context of urban and social policies in a very general sense, it is less common today. To understand the development of governing diversity in Rotterdam, it is pertinent to scrutinize the character and historical roots of Rotterdam's laboratorial logic.

The consideration of the city as a laboratory goes back to the Chicago School, many of whose foremost sociologists considered Chicago a laboratory. While they productively wavered between regarding the city as a field site (in which reality was found) and a laboratory (in which reality was made) (Gieryn 2006), the use of a laboratorial rhetoric by policy makers and politicians is of another kind. It is first and foremost a governing rhetoric, which explicitly assumes that urban reality can be made *because* it is found to be in a certain, more often than not deplorable, state. In Rotterdam, the laboratorial rhetoric has been associated with the 'innovative' character of policies regarding crime, urban segregation and poverty (Noordegraaf 2008). In no small measure, the 'innovative' nature of, for instance, combinations of care and control in social policies have been applauded by scientists (Notten 2008; Tops 2011).

F. van Houdt (\*)

Erasmus University College, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: vanhoudt@euc.eur.nl

W. Schinkel Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: schinkel@essb.eur.nl

As we argue, a laboratorial logic allows the assumption that one can start with a *tabula rasa*, that the ground has been cleared and a new, artificial arrangement of actors and objects is possible. A policy laboratory is a site at which this continuous starting anew in which the city becomes an experiment is enacted in ever new ways. This involves a particular way of dealing with history that is, itself, highly historically conditioned. It involves, on the one hand, the complete denegation of history, the putting history between brackets and, on the basis of a clear(ed) ground, start anew, as in a laboratory. On the other hand, this laboratorial rhetoric is legitimated on the basis of a very specific mobilization of history in the form of a traumatic memory: the bombing of Rotterdam by the Nazis in World War II. In order to properly situate the laboratorial rhetoric in urban and social policies in Rotterdam, and in order to tease out the political import of that rhetoric, we turn first to the historical narrative that supports it.

#### **7.2 Clearing the Ground: Historical Roots of the Laboratorial Rhetoric**

In 1946, the Dutch architect Van Embden said, in a comment on the bombing of the inner city by the Nazis on May 14, 1940:

Do you realize, Rotterdammer, that many of the most precious memories to what was lost in the days of May actually cling to what, rationally considered, were mere deficits of our old city? (…) The big fire has cleaned up with one blow what we, Rotterdamers, previously *could* or *would* not clear, however little it was in tune with the material demands of the present (…) We owe it to ourselves and to the future to seek out the most perfect, effective and characteristic form for everything we create, in order to give the utmost freedom to present life, now that it has been violently liberated from the shackles of the past. (quoted in Schuyt and Taverne 2000: 177–178)

The idea that the bombing of Rotterdam is here considered to have, in one particular sense at least, 'liberated' the city is striking in this quote. It can only be understood in light of the modernist urban planning of the age, which had drafted elaborate plans for the modernization of Rotterdam prior to the war. Some of these were under way, but many were as yet unimplemented due to the fact that the old city of Rotterdam still stood. So while Rotterdam was already celebrated for its modernist architecture in the 1930s (Van Ulzen 2007), it had not entirely developed its inner city according to modernist recipes. For a long time, the city centre had consisted of narrow streets with small houses along them in areas that would nowadays be characterized as slums. In the early twentieth century some of these had already been demolished (cf. Van Ulzen 2007; Van der Woud 2010). In one sense, then, the bombing of Rotterdam has merely sped up a process that was already in development. This became clear when the rubble was to be cleared and the question was to be answered what to keep and what to tear down. The planners opted for the new urban planning that had, already in the 1930s, displayed a preference for motorways and high-rise, and hence much more was torn down than was strictly speaking necessary. The so-called 'basic plan' (*Basisplan*) for the redevelopment of Rotterdam in 1946 thus entailed a *new* round of demolition, the first being the bombing and its immediate consequences (Wagenaar 1992: 308, quoted in: Rooijendijk 2005: 182). This new round of demolition cleared the way for the modernist reconstruction of the city – a reconstruction that was therefore precisely not a *re*construction. The bombing and the ensuing fire were thus mobilized as an opportunity to implement the type of urban planning that was already popular among modernist planners and architects such as Oud and Van Traa. The bombing and the subsequent demolition offered the key ingredients of the modernist city: clarity, space, and relative emptiness in the city centre. So while city planner Witteveen had suggested to reconstruct the old city in his plan of the *Advisory Council Urban Plan Rotterdam* (1941), the prevailing current was towards the modernist city of the *Basisplan* of Van Traa. This largely excluded the city centre from housing, which was indeed, after the reconstruction, much less prevalent in the centre than before the war. Schuyt and Taverne (2000: 178) therefore speak of a sense of a 'double bombardment' that lived among critics of modernist architecture.

In order to understand the relation between current laboratorial rhetoric and the idea of a *tabula rasa*, it is pertinent to consider the governing technique deployed after the war. The land affected by the bombing and the fire was collectively dispossessed. This led to the fact that, again according to Schuyt and Taverne, "the city was ready to be built for the future, but it was at the same time robbed of its memory and its history" (Schuyt and Taverne 2000: 25). And this has been a persistent feature of the official governmental imagination of the city. The memory of Rotterdam revolves around the 'lost heart' of the city, a reference to the sculpture the artist Ossip Zadkine made for the city after having taken a train through the then empty (demolished) city centre. This memory of loss, this trauma, is thus the *memory of a loss of memory*. It is also a historical narrative that, paradoxically, continues to posit the city as ahistorical. The rhetoric of the 'loss of the city's heart' has continued to inform urban planning and policies. When the *Basisplan* was presented, in 1946, in the form of a booklet to inform the larger public, this book was called *The new heart of Rotterdam* (Van Traa 1946). But in fact, the city still puts up big plaques whenever construction is going on that say 'Hear the new heart of Rotterdam pounding here!'

#### **7.3 Enjoying One's Trauma: Rendering the Past Productive**

The new modernist city of course encountered its fair share of criticism. Interestingly, that criticism often used the very discursive ploy that had made the modernist city possible, that of the 'missing heart' of Rotterdam. Jan Schaper's film *City without heart* (1966), for instance, is an indictment against the emptiness that characterized the city centre and that was typical of the modernist separation of urban functions. Ever since the war, then, the trope of the 'city without a heart' has been recurring, and it has supported efforts to change the city in contradictory ways. It has, then,

assumed a strategic role in the discursive imagination of the city that continues to inform Rotterdam's urban and social policies. One could say that Rotterdam holds history hostage: it continues to assert that it has lost its heart, even though its city centre has been rebuilt and redone a number of times. The very idea of a cleared ground continues to legitimate new transformations. The supposed 'emptiness' at the heart of Rotterdam, provides the city's government with a maximum amount of flexibility. At each moment one can assume, for governing purposes, that *the ground has been cleared* and that one can hence engage in experimentation in the Rotterdam laboratory.

Rotterdam thus productively deploys its selective rendition of the past in new restructuring projects, in urban redevelopment plans that often constitute forms of gentrification openly so-called, and in urban policies. The assumed absence of the city's heart legitimates continued interventions both in the urban environment and in the urban population. Rotterdam, in other words, enjoys its war trauma, at least to the extent that its key governmental actors continue to deploy it to govern the city and its population. This is where the *governing of diversity* becomes visible. For what kind of city is imagined by the city's governmental actors? As Marguerite van den Berg has illustrated, Rotterdam is enmeshed in the transition from an industrial to a post-industrial city. This involves a shift in what she calls the urban 'mythology' (Van den Berg 2012). The urban government wishes to shed the image of the rough, male harbour worker, which no longer chimes with its labour market, and promote instead the more feminine and 'sexy' image of what it calls in its plans for 2008–2030 (*Binnenstadsplan 2008–2030*) the 'city lounge' (Bureau Binnenstad Rotterdam 2008). That, too, is in a sense the continuation of the emptiness that characterizes the city centre: in the city centre comes the lounge, the site for aimless hanging around. A city that puts a lot of effort in countering kids loitering, the cynical ideal of the city centre is that of a 'city lounge'.

Van den Berg's analysis illustrated clearly how the governing of Rotterdam in fact consists of the permanent problematization of its population. Of course, all government consists of problematizations, categorizations and orderings of heterogeneous populations (Chatterjee 2004). In Rotterdam, in particular, diversity is a key operator of governmental problematization. The Rotterdam population is considered either as too little 'integrated', or as too poor and lowly educated. Both are proxies for ethno-racial distinctions. Against them, a 'middle-class' is hoped to be attracted to the city, and this middle-class, in turn, is a proxy for white, 'autochthonous', higher educated citizens. In the last decade, such problematizations have been accompanied by large-scale government-led gentrification projects that have been described as a typical Rotterdam inflection of urban revanchism (Uitermark and Duyvendak 2006; Van den Berg 2013). One prime example of such gentrification has been the 'renewal' of Katendrecht, an area located at the harbour and a place in with a history of both prostitution, catering to workers in the harbour, and of migration. It has become one of the popular areas in Rotterdam, and this has

involved a white-washing of the area through state-led gentrification. Such gentrification, and the urban imaginary that accompanies it, involves telling current residents of Rotterdam that they are, in one way or another, not good enough. Whoever reads the municipality's 'urban vision' for 2030 (*Stadsvisie 2030*), with its open embrace of the critically intended concept of gentrification (Rotterdam Municipality 2007), cannot but conclude that the city government wishes itself a different population. For some time now, this has been the case because of a sense of *emergency*. The clearing of the ground, the radical policy experimentation that oftentimes skims the boundaries of the legally tolerable and frequently proudly transgresses those boundaries, can be performed on the basis of an appeal to emergency. This 'state of emergency' has conventionally been constructed by referring to the 'type and characteristics of the population' of Rotterdam. It has been suggested, for instance, that Rotterdam would have to bar low-income families from certain neighbourhoods because these neighbourhoods could 'take no more'. Such measures, which were first experimented within laboratory Rotterdam, later became national law in the form of what tellingly became colloquially known as 'the Rotterdam Law'. The official name of the law, however, is the 'Umbrella and Exception Law', which makes the role of the exception explicit. In the appeal to emergency, a *governing through exceptionalism* becomes apparent that is a key feature of the way diversity has been an object of concern in Rotterdam.

#### **7.4 The Rotterdam Law**

The *2005 Umbrella and Exception Law* is commonly known as "The Rotterdam Law".1 It consists of a configuration of governmental techniques aimed at the governing of 'excessive urban problems' through the regulation of the socio-economic (and thus also primarily ethnic) make-up of the population in certain areas. It primarily consists of measures aimed at restricting the influx of low-income populations ('kansarmen') to certain 'multi-problem areas' ('probleemwijken'). Based on a problem analysis of the number of poor people expected to live in Rotterdam in the future (Van Eijk 2010), specific exceptional zones are created allowing for an income-based exclusion of citizens living in the Rotterdam region for less than 6 years. A recent initiative (to be enacted on 1/1/2017) expands the reach of the Rotterdam Law by making it possible to reject 'asocial', 'criminal' and 'radicalized' citizens primarily based on police files. Newcomers are screened by the Mayor's office before they are allowed to settle in these so called exceptional zones as residents. A track-record of (sometimes non-verified police records of) crime, nuisance (e.g. intimidation, public intoxication), violence, radical religious thoughts may be used as a basis for rejection, and, in addition, a certificate of good conduct ('verklaring omtrent gedrag') may be requested.

<sup>1</sup> http://wetten.overheid.nl/BWBR0019388/2015-01-01

#### **7.5 Governing Through Exceptionalism**

Another good example of a governing through exceptionalism is the functioning of so-called 'Intervention Teams' in Rotterdam. For instance with the help of the Rotterdam Safety Index, neighbourhoods are selected where teams of different officials make house calls, often in highly intrusive ways that have been challenged by the Rotterdam Ombudsman as early as 2007 (Rotterdam Ombudsman 2007). Intervention Teams have existed in different forms, and they have had various foci, ranging from combating 'illegal habitation' and 'pot plantations' to providing assistance in debt relief or dealing with neighborly nuisance. In many cases, as described more in detail in Schinkel and Van den berg (2011), they have used highly invasive tactics to enter homes, thereby in practice suspending the rights of inhabitants. This happens predominantly in neighbourhoods where large numbers of so-called 'non-Western allochtones' reside. Hence, those who do not fit the norm of a 'middleclass' population are more likely to have their rights suspended. The figure of the *homo sacer*, described by Agamben (1998), thus involves a flexible, temporo-spatial way of differentiating between parts of a population. It curtails some rights of some people in certain areas of the city and for some time. In the same way, preventive body searches have been carried out in specific neighbourhoods and in highly racialized ways, since the neighbourhoods targeted are, again, the parts of the city where relatively little 'middle-class' (read: white affluent) citizens reside.

This type of governing through exceptionalism is closely tied to the laboratorial rhetoric of Rotterdam policies. It appears in the form of a continuous *clearing of the ground* in conjunction with an *appeal to emergency*. The emergency lies in the severity of the 'problems', the truly problematic nature of the population, and this is therefore a highly biopolitical problematization as it involves the direct problematization of a population that is also the object of governmental intervention (literally, for instance, by 'Intervention Teams'). This 'state of emergency' can both legitimize the laboratorial clearing of the ground and be equated with the fact that in Rotterdam, the ground is still clear, the proper heart is still not beating. Here, too, biopolitics rings loud, since the collective has a 'heart' that is currently missing. Ever since the war, then, the state of emergency has been present, since the ground has always remained cleared and the heart has never started beating. And vice versa, whenever governmental problematizations are to be followed by biopolitical interventions, one can do so without recourse to rights or history, because, after all, in Rotterdam the ground has been cleared and a laboratorial situation of artificially starting-anew can be plausibly put forward.

The *political* character of a laboratorial mode of governing is thus that it foregrounds the *exception*. A laboratory involves an artificial cordoning off of objects and their relations. It exempts these from the larger relational networks in which they are enmeshed, as well as (and this is particularly relevant here) from the historical relations as a consequence of which they emerge. The exception is often a legal exception, and it is also a political exception. Because, in terms of accountability, the emergency and urgency of the policy situation allow for laboratorial policies, for policy experiments that cover new ground, often in semi-legal ways. And as with all laboratory experiments, they can't really fail because negative outcomes are outcomes nonetheless. When urban politics assumes the laboratorial mode of governing, then, it operates largely beyond the confines of democratic politics and it coincides with a biopolitical program. In the last decade or so, policies in Rotterdam have therefore been accompanied by a rhetoric of exceptionalism, which, tellingly, is often bellicose. The Intervention Teams have for a long time operated in Hotspot Zones; one type of Intervention Teams was coordinated by the 'Bureau Frontline', a supposedly extra-bureaucratic and in that sense exceptional entity within the municipality; there are 'City Marines' active, which have exceptional discretionary powers; there are 'frontline workers', which is a recoding of people involved in policy implementation' and there has been a 'reconquering' of the city.

The role of the exception has been noted to be typical of neoliberal forms of governing (Ong 2006; Easterling 2014). It renders spaces attractive for capitalization by producing them as highly flexible. Selectively suspending legal restrictions is key in the many 'zones' that have become preferred sites in the neoliberal management of goods and capital. As we argue in the next section, neoliberalism is a mode of governing that is operative in Rotterdam's laboratorial exceptionalism as well. And yet it is not adequately described by neoliberalism alone. One example of the neoliberal nature of the problematization of Rotterdam's population by its policy makers is the rationale behind 'Bureau Frontline'. It operates, according to its 'mission' statement, by starting with 'the Problem': "residents in backward neighbourhoods (*achterstandswijken*) have too little skills and cultural capital. This leads to stress and disfunctioning."2 In other words: the *problematization* of certain parts of the population is framed in terms of *their own deficits*, and these deficits are construed, in Bourdieusian terms (although he would have cringed at the thought), of cultural and not economic capital. In typical neoliberal fashion, then, social problems are reduced to the deficits of individuals. Yet this individualizing politics is coupled in Rotterdam (and elsewhere) by a highly communitarian logic. In the next section, we illustrate how Rotterdam can be best understood by considering what we have called the neoliberal communitarian governing of populations that is situated in-between the promotion of the neoliberal, responsible and active subject and the coming community.

#### **7.6 Neoliberal Communitarianism: Governing Through Paradox**

The discourse of emergency dominated both the 2002 local election campaigns and subsequent programs of government (e.g., Rotterdam City Council 2002, 2003, 2006a, b). In 2002 and for the first time in the history of Rotterdam the labour party

<sup>2</sup> http://www.bureaufrontlijn.nl/ditzijnwe/missie/ (accessed 10 June 2016).

(PvdA) was forced into opposition. A government coalition emerged that consisted of the liberal party (VVD), Christian democrats (CDA) and the winner of the elections (the political party of populist maverick politician Fortuyn) Liveable Rotterdam (LR) (from 0 to win 17 out of 45 seats) (see also Van Ostaaijen). It was this coalition that forged a new and paradoxical formulae of governing the city that can be called neoliberal communitarianism, a strategy that has been dominant even after new coalitions took over (see, for example, Rotterdam City Council 2006a, b).

Many scholars argue that neoliberalism is the dominant contemporary governmentality (Dean 2010: 176). Studies of governmentality regard neoliberalism as a political rationality of governing citizens (ourselves, others and the state) in relation to the truths and techniques of the market. Neoliberalism is both a critique and program of government (Foucault 2008). It is a critique of governing too much (specifically of welfarism). Neoliberalism hereby extends the economic gaze in two ways. First, previously non-economic domains or phenomena (such as crime, immigrant integration, social policy, healthcare, marriage and reproduction – including genetics) are now considered from an economic perspective (e.g., in terms of effects on human capital). Secondly, an economic filter or economic tribunal is applied to all the activities and interventions of public authorities and the state (i.e., a big program of purification that scrutinizes intervention in terms of costs, efficiency, abuse and excess) (Foucault 2008).

In addition, neoliberalism is also a program of governing aimed at the construction of the Enterprise City. This involves both the facilitation of existing markets and corresponding techniques: competition, accountability and the active construction of markets where they were previously non-existent. Neoliberalism also implies a specific conception of the citizen-subject as entrepreneur, as an active, responsible and rational subject. As such, citizens are relinked to governing networks in different ways. This all comes together in the neoliberal technique of responsibilization. For example, state interventions are considered too costly, ineffective, and inefficient and, therefore, citizens are urged to take responsibility for governing problems themselves or in coproduction with other actors, including the state. That is why 'active citizenship' can be considered a neoliberal technique of governing the present (Dean 2010).

But neoliberalism is also associated with New Public Management (NPM) which is indicated by the increasing use of performance indicators, the publication of outcomes and accountability. Moreover, neoliberalism may involve 'zero tolerance' crime policies, the extension of punishment (the sovereign fist), a criminalization of 'non-middle-class conduct' and the teaching of bourgeois virtues (discipline). Neoliberalism thus involves a specific reconfiguration of the triangle of sovereignty, discipline and government (power) based on an economic knowledge (truth) and a specific conceptualization of the rational, responsible and entrepreneurial citizen (subject) (Van Houdt 2014).

Some scholars argue (implicitly or explicitly) that neoliberalism is the sole dominant contemporary political rationality, and the case of Rotterdam is often presented as an illustration of the European road towards neoliberalism (e.g., Wacquant 2009). Others argue that neoliberalism often occurs in a combination with neo-conservatism (e.g., Brown 2006). *We argue that the Rotterdam case is illustrative of a strategy of governing that combines the main features of neoliberal governmentality with those of governmental communitarianism*. Their coming together is captured by the concept of neoliberal communitarianism. Indeed, the local government of citizens and social problems in Rotterdam is often framed in terms and techniques typical of neoliberalism (see above). But in addition, it is also considered in terms of a political rationality stressing the community, social cohesion, norms and values, the reciprocity of rights and duties (Rotterdam City Council 2002, 2003, 2006a, b; cf. Van Houdt and Schinkel 2014; Schinkel and Van Houdt 2010a, b). In other words, the neoliberal logic of governing citizens in Rotterdam which is present, for example, in fields ranging from housing policy to crime and immigrant integration is both challenged and complemented by a communitarian logic (cf. Van Swaaningen 2008).

Communitarianism, like neoliberalism, is not simply a political philosophy but a specific political rationality of governing (Delanty 2002). Communitarian governmentality aims to secure space for the community, for notions of care and belonging, but it also aims to restore morality, norms and values and a sense of responsibility as fundaments of citizenship, the family, and identity. Though communitarianism is often presented as the contender of neoliberalism (which it often is) the following remarks can be made. First, while in political theory and political philosophy analytical clarity is valued and contradiction considered an abomination, *at the ground level of problematization and problems solving, that is, at the messy site of local policy making and political struggle (including compromise), opposing political rationalities may be easily combined into a strategy (the often non-subjective, nonintentional and often paradoxical forms) of governing*. Secondly, neoliberalism and communitarianism find common ground in their shared critique of welfarism (sometimes associated with the old Labour Party). Thirdly, as will be described below, both political rationalities may support the same techniques of governing, albeit from a different logic.

Like neoliberalism, communitarianism also involves a reconfiguration of power and techniques of intervention (Van Houdt and Schinkel 2013). In terms of government, the community can be regarded as (capable of) self-governing, thereby, for example, delegating state responsibilities to active citizens. Like neoliberalism, communitarianism also uses the concept of 'active citizenship' and voluntary associations. But communitarianism may also involve disciplinary programs aimed to moralize citizens considered to be lagging behind in terms of the proper Dutch norms and values of the virtuous Dutch community (see 'The Rotterdam Code' below). Hence, one important technique of this governmental communitarianism is the moralization of social problems and the re-moralization of subjects ('ethical reconstruction') to the virtuous community (Rose 2000: 1407). Moreover, the tough side of communitarianism becomes visible in its heavy investment in sovereign techniques (incarceration, selective incapacitation, banishment) to protect the community against its various enemies (e.g., 'hardcore criminals', 'psychopath predators roaming the streets', 'non-western immigrants') (Van Houdt and Schinkel 2013). A good illustration of the moralizing logic of 'governmental communitarianism' (Delanty 2002) is "The Rotterdam Code".

#### **7.7 The Rotterdam Code**

The Rotterdam Code is a policy document that explicitly deals with the problematization of super diversity in terms of crime and safety, lack of social cohesion, welfare dependency and unemployment. The *Rotterdam Code* starts with a question: '*When is an urban society really/truly a society?*' The answer: '*When citizens take responsibility for themselves and their city. When they share certain norms and values, respect each other, work together and, when the livability of the city is under threat, correct and discipline each other.'* (Rotterdam City Council 2006a, b: 2). It further states the code that

*We Citizens of Rotterdam:*


This code can be summarized as follows: a real society consists of moral citizens and moral citizens '*participate in society*' (Rotterdam City Council: 2006a, b). What is interesting here is the distinction made between a 'real society' and its negative other. A true society is inhabited by active citizens (moral citizens), it is, therefore, a moral space which is separated from communities inhabited by amoral and inactive citizens. In the proper society citizens govern themselves, are responsible, do not discriminate whereas in the realm outside this society people lack such dispositions. The true community consists of citizens speaking and thinking in Dutch. The other society consists of people communicating in a foreign language, they are extremists, while the moral citizens of the real society are intolerant to extremism and radicalism. In the real society women and homosexuals are considered equal to men and heterosexuals and they are all respected whereas in the amoral society a distinction in treatment is made between women/men and homosexuals/ heterosexuals (in addition, the former are also disrespected). In the deviant society, people with different religious convictions and people without a religious conviction are disrespected and treated unequally, whereas in the real society citizens with a different worldview or without religious conviction are treated equally and with respect. Hence, the 'moral citizen' is the 'normal subject' of the 'moral community'. Moral citizenship thus functions as technique of social closure (inclusion and exclusion). Included in society are the moral citizens who take responsibility for society and, as a consequence, excluded from this moral space are people who are not properly participating. Thus, 'society' is defining itself as a moral space and its norms become articulated, for example, as "in this moral space Dutch is the common language". Hence, if you are not capable of communicating in Dutch then you do not belong to the moral space of society because you are not participating correctly and therefore you are not a real citizen.

So, who are the citizens standing/placed outside the real society because they are lacking moral citizenship, in other words, who are the people not associated with moral citizenship? At a more abstract level and in common terms it can be argued that people who are not 'integrated' reside outside the true moral community ("immigrants", "criminals", "mad", "unemployed" etc.) (Schinkel 2017). The Rotterdam Code, however, especially focuses on 'citizens with an immigrant background' often called 'allochthons'.

To contextualize this text, we need to look at the changing mentalities of governing and the changing political situation in the Netherlands which influenced national and local policies on integration and citizenship. Since the 1990s the political climate in the Netherlands changed rapidly. The new phase can be called 'culturistic' and it is expected of immigrants to assimilate in the Dutch/Rotterdam community. The 'culturistic' discourse has culture at the centre of its focus and can be described by the following characteristics: (1) it distinguishes between a 'dominant culture' and 'an-other culture'; (2) it consists of an essentialist way of thinking, framing culture as a stable and determining set of norms and values; (3) it focuses on problems whereby the problems are allocated the 'other culture' which is seen as incompatible with the culture of the 'dominant community' (Schinkel 2017). The 'culturistic' perspective underlying the Rotterdam Code locks into a broader communitarian mentality of governing, stressing conformity to the dominant culture understood in terms of homogeneity, communality and the duty to conform to the dominant norms and values at risk of stigmatization, exclusion, discipline and punishment (cf. Driver and Martell 1997). The norms of the real society ('the culture of the dominant community') are clearly described resembling Dutch norms and values. 'Dutchness' is claimed as 'being enlightened'; thereby paradoxically claiming the *Enlightenment* as its most valued *tradition*. Immigrants are seen as the 'other' having a backward and problematic culture. Therefore they are not real citizens because they are not participating in the real society. The only way an immigrant can become a citizen is when she/he integrates (assimilates) into the proper Dutch community.

The coming together of neoliberalism and communitarianism is captured by the concept of *neoliberal communitarianism*. A neoliberal approach based on individual responsibility, market metaphors and market behavior merges with a conformist communitarian approach that is based on homogeneity, nationalist communality and the duty to conform to the specific and dominant Dutch value. In terms of genealogy, the roots of neoliberal communitarianism are very diverse. Like a rhizome, neoliberal communitarianism can be traced back to different times and different places. One line goes back to the German neoliberalism formulated by Röpke in the 1930–1950s (Ordoliberalism: Foucault 2008), others to the literature on reinventing government at the beginning of the 1990s (Osborne and Gaebler 1993), or to the various socio-political analyses and third way programs at the end of the 1990s (Etzioni, Giddens). But, again, neoliberal communitarianism is also primarily a pragmatics of governing, an art of governing (non-intentionally) invented at the level of policy-making, political struggle and compromise, a strategy of governing using tools derived from various political rationalities to bridge distances, visualize and talk about problems while at the same time trying to deal with these issues, whether at a European level (e.g., Bieling 2006 uses the notion of communitarian neoliberalism), the national level (Van Houdt et al. 2011) or at the local level of Rotterdam (Van Houdt and Schinkel 2014).

#### **7.8 Governing Through Citizenship and the Janus-Face of Responsibilization: Lumping and Splitting**

Before the new (local) coalition was installed in 2002, however, some major disagreements and distrust between the parties had to be brushed away. Liveable Rotterdam was a newcomer and its tough rhetoric on the governing of urban problems, its suspicion of (immigrant) citizens in relation to its harsh stance on crime and safety was viewed with suspicion by both liberals (VVD) and Christian democrats (CDA) (see also Dekker and Van Breugel). Due to the mediation of policy scientist Van Schendelen the parties were brought together. In his role of political broker ['informateur'] Van Schendelen proposed to use the concept of citizenship as the leading theme of the new coalition programme (Van Schendelen 2004). This was because citizenship allowed for both a tough approach of citizens (stressing their duties and responsibilities) as well as stressing their rights (Van Schendelen 2004: 261). Thus, citizenship functioned as a political bridge, and, at the same time, citizenship was introduced as the major technique of governing various populations.

For some decades now, citizenship has been of renewed interest both in scholarly discussions and in political debates (cf. Kymlicka and Norman 1994; Van Gunsteren 1998; Shafir 1998; Isin and Wood 1999; Van Houdt and Schinkel 2009). Studies of governmentality regard citizenship as a technique of governing, while distancing themselves from attempts to naturalize, 'dehistoricize', and universalize these discursive and non-discursive techniques of governing (Van Houdt 2014). Thus citizenship can be regarded as a crucial technique of lumping and splitting populations (to paraphrase Zerubavel 1996) and of attributing responsibilities (Van Houdt 2014). For example, citizenship is a crucial technique in the international management of populations because it splits the global population into subpopulations while lumping citizens together in a nation that is attributed to a state (Hindess 2000). It is typical of the modern discourse to naturalize such a distinction. A governmentality perspective, however, allows the study of the techniques and working of these forms of power (including symbolic violence), including the related inequalities and immobilization of the poor that follows from this modern strategy of *divide et impera* (Hindess 2000).

Moreover, by using adjectives such as 'good', 'active' and 'responsible', citizenship can be used to differentiate a population internally (Van Houdt 2014). It then functions as a binary code splitting a population into good/bad, moral/immoral, and active/passive citizens and lumping them together in 'society' and its negative other

'outside society'. These categories are then targeted by different projects of intervention, such as the Rotterdam Code. Programs of self-government are primarily targeted at the virtuous citizenry, regarded to be properly socialized/disciplined and considered economically productive, politically loyal and emotionally attached, while those who are seen as lacking, that is, those who are lumped together as the bad, immoral and passive citizenry, are to be rehabilitated, integrated, educated or they have to remain outside society (considered enemies, threats, 'not integrated') (cf. Schinkel 2017).

Three images of the citizen can be discerned from the local policy documents (see Van Houdt and Schinkel 2014; Schinkel and Van Houdt 2010; cf. Dekker and Van Breugel). The first image is that of the active or responsible citizen. Local policy makers invented "The Technique of Active Citizenship" [Methodiek Actief Burgerschap: Rotterdam City Council 2009] to mobilize this type of citizens into a governing network. As described above, active citizenship is supported by both neoliberalism and communitarianism. Governing through active citizenship entails both a neoliberal emphasis on individual responsibility and a communitarian emphasis on morality, loyalty and duty to the community. Active citizenship is a crucial image that is correlated to the technique of *responsibilization*. The governing technique of responsibilization aims at making individual citizens, the private sector or communities (at various levels such as families, neighbourhoods or nations) responsible for public tasks previously considered the sole responsibility of the state: i.e., making non-state actors responsible for the governing of crime, social security, the labour market or economy at large, immigrant integration, health care etcetera (Burchell 1993; cf. Schinkel and Van Houdt: 698). In this local case, for example, it means that 'allochtonous citizens' are made responsible for their own civic integration. Responsibilization is thus a crucial technique that is used, on the one hand, to absolve or free the state from previous responsibilities, and, on the other, to forge new private-public partnerships thereby facilitating the co-productions of public services and a governing-at-a-distance. This can be called 'facilitative responsibilization' which assumes a pre-existing autonomous citizen, properly socialized only to be mobilized and called into active service.

However, what also becomes visible in Rotterdam is a second image correlated to another form of responsibilization. Stressing active citizenship coincidentally produces its negative other: the passive, immoral, irresponsible, inactive citizen targeted by repressive (correctional or disciplinary) interventions. This can be called 'repressive responsibilization'. For example, in 2009 the Rotterdam City Council explicitly answered the question what to do when active citizenship and the conditions for self-help, autonomy and responsibility (hence facilitative responsibilization) are lacking:

If the context of active citizenship is not present, for example because people are dealing with social or physical problems or because an area has to be re-conquered, then other tactics are necessary (intervention teams, hot spots, city marines etc.). (Rotterdam City Council 2009: 26)

This illustrates what we have called the Janus-face of responsibilization: on the one hand facilitative responsibilization geared towards responsible and active citizens, and, on the other hand, repressive responsibilization targeting irresponsible/inactive citizens (Schinkel and Van Houdt 2010: 708–10).

The Rotterdam municipality uses several ways of dealing with 'irresponsibility' and working towards responsible and active citizenship. For example, one of these interventions is called the Early Intervention in Families (EIF: 'Vroegtijdige Interventie in Gezinnen': Rotterdam City Council 2006a, b). The EIF tries 'to intervene in a multi-problem family as early as possible, based on signals out of the field, and to learn parents to take responsibility for their children and to integrate in society' (Rotterdam City Council 2006b: (1). The aim of EIF is to educate responsibility, to prevent crime and nuisance and to better chances on the job market (Rotterdam City Council 2006b: (2). A 'family coach' is allocated to the family for 24 h a day, 7 days a week and aims at teaching 'responsibility', ensuring that the parents follow language courses and sending children (back) to school (Rotterdam City Council 2006a, b: 2). In contrast to governing-at a distance (facilitative responsibilization), repressive responsibilization is thus typical of *governing-at-close-range* in the homes, souls, bodies and *brains*<sup>3</sup> of citizen subjects (for 'early detection' of problems is said to begin when the baby is still in its mother's womb) (Schinkel and Van Houdt 2010). It occurs when citizens who are deemed risky are constructed as in need of and sensitive or responsive to disciplinary interventions.

In sum, facilitative responsibilization takes place for instance where communities are mobilized to counter crime because a high victimization risk exists and repressive responsibilization occurs where it is citizens themselves who are deemed risky and 'in need of disciplinary interventions'. However, the diagram of emergency also invented a third citizen image: the high risk citizen. The latter category consists of those to whom neither facilitative nor repressive responsibilization is geared, but who are targeted by techniques related to the sovereign technology of power (e.g., punishment, banishment, prohibition). This type of citizen is considered to be beyond correction (discipline) while representing a threat to persons and goods. Following on from the logic of emergency (tough times demand tough measures), a new intervention was invented: the Frequent Offender Institution [Instelling

<sup>3</sup>Our previous work also shows that the overall problematization of (super) diversity in terms of problems of 'integration' and 'crime and safety' locks into a general movement away from a focus on larger macro-structures and sociological accounts of social problems towards more micro-oriented and biological approaches (e.g. Van Houdt and Schinkel 2013). In the context of the rise of the new life sciences (e.g. neuroscience) and in relation to the problematization of super diversity, it can be argued that *the brain* will become the new site of knowledge, intervention and subjectification. The larger neuroscientific movement helps to strengthen a particular focus on the deviant (migrant, criminal) body by prioritizing the brain. This can be called "**neurogovernmentality**": a novel way of governing social problems in relation to knowledge, products and technologies produced by neuroscience. This will be further scrutinized by one of the authors (Van Houdt) in the next years.

Stelselmatige Dader].4 This is a total institution aimed at the incarceration of the so called 'frequent offenders' (see Van Houdt and Schinkel 2014). The high risk citizen is 'selectively incapacitated' and hence exempted from the larger community.

This leads then not to two images of the citizen but to a threefold differentiation between: (1) the active citizen; (2) the low risk citizen; (3) the high risk citizen. This three-tiered hierarchy of governing images of citizens, we argue, signals crucial shifts in the self-reflection of government as it increasingly moves away from a rationality based on conceptions of welfare. Again, as was the case with active citizenship, though based on a different logic, both neoliberalism and communitarianism support the same technique of governing (now selective incapacitation), which is legitimated, on the one hand, to defend the market, and, on the other, to defend the community.

#### **7.9 Conclusion: Beyond Exceptionalism?**

Based on the recurring diagram of 'laboratory exceptionalism', the city of Rotterdam has, over the last couple of decades, observed itself (again) as on the verge of collapse and cleared the ground by inventing a new formulae of governing the city and its populations. As Van den Berg (2012, 2013) shows, Rotterdam aims at transforming into a more feminine and post-industrial city. However, this involves a particular femininity. Not so much or solely a social bosom of (welfarist) care but a complex combination of a moralizing finger and a sovereign fist targeting a diverse and primarily coloured under-class, and the welcoming of the proper creativity and diversity of what can be called a *'yupper class'*. In recent years, this has been accompanied with a city marketing campaign that has been enormously successful in, perhaps for the first time in many decades, putting forth a positive image of Rotterdam as a vibrant tourist destination characterized by contemporary architecture. Here, the clearing of the ground becomes positively coded: because the ground has been cleared, Rotterdam has lots of exciting architecture. The result of this marketing campaign, which consisted partly of city officials pampering international journalist and giving them tours through parts of the city, has been that Rotterdam has been given positive attention in international fora. Moreover, Rotterdam was listed as a top 10 destination in 2014 by The New York Times5 and it was praised by the 'Rough Guide',6 Lonely Planet7 and The Guardian.

<sup>4</sup>The 'Frequent Offenders Institution Order' ('FOIO', 'ISD': 'Instelling Stelselmatige daders') is active since 2004. The practical object (a 'frequent offender') is: (1) (s)he who committed a serious crime; (2) a person convicted in the last 5 years for at least three other crimes; (3) a serious threat for the safety of persons and goods (Struijk 2007: 350–354). The primary goal of measures aimed at such persons is 'social defence' (art. 38 m sub 2 Sr; cf. Struijk 2007: 353).

<sup>5</sup> http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/01/10/travel/2014-places-to-go.html?\_r=0

<sup>6</sup> http://www.roughguides.com/?s=rotterdam&x=0&y=0

<sup>7</sup> http://www.lonelyplanet.com/best-in-travel/cities/5

The question is: does this signal a shift in the governing of the Rotterdam population? Perhaps, in part, it does. At least the figure of the exception seems to be invoked less in the most recent period (though the logic of exception is still used, now under the radar, and still with success by policy lobbyists). But that is partly because previous efforts at problematizing the Rotterdam population may have been successful, as have efforts at keeping certain people out of the city or out of specific neighbourhoods by means of the 'Umbrella and Exception Law'. In exchange, the city has been competing, in typical neoliberal fashion, in a game of interurban competition very much driven by what has been called 'imagineering the city' (Van den Berg 2015). But the link with neoliberal communitarianism and urban branding has been there all along. As Marguerite van den Berg has argued (2012) the city has been in the process of changing from a rough image to a more polished, feminine image. At the same time, the problematization of the poor has been a way to emphasize that Rotterdam needed more 'middle-class' people. In that sense, changing the population *is* changing the image of the city, as the desired 'middle-class', which is actually an 'upper' middle-class, deploys a different aesthetic taste. It is more compatible with a city centre as a 'city lounge', with loitering without nuisance. So, questions of urban community, and efforts at shaping it in very particular ways, have been folded into neoliberal city marketing efforts for some time. At least for the time being, the international success of Rotterdam as an urban image has curtailed the need to emphasize how exceptionally bad the situation in the city is. But it is too early to conclude that a 'yupper class' has permanently displaced populations less suited for the neoliberal communitarian project. Certainly, the authoritative tourist guides won't list Rotterdam as top destination every year. So perhaps the current celebration of the city will turn out to be yet another experiment on the way to new emergencies.

#### **References**


#### **Local Policy Documents**


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## **Chapter 8 Rotterdam as a Case of Complexity Reduction: Migration from Central and Eastern European Countries**

**Erik Snel, Mark van Ostaijen, and Margrietha 't Hart**

Various authors have described the Netherlands as a 'reluctant country of immigration'. Although the Netherlands was de facto an immigration country, until recently it seemed unwilling to admit it (Cornelius et al. 2004; Muus 2004; Van Meeteren et al. 2013). Similarly, with 174 different nationalities in the city, Rotterdam is characterised by 'superdiversity' (Vertovec 2007). But unlike cities such as London or Amsterdam who celebrate their diverse populations, Rotterdam is rather reluctant to do so. Rotterdam local politics and local policies seldom welcome ethnic and cultural diversity in the city. They rather underline the problems related to the presence of migrants and their families, particularly when they live concentrated in certain Rotterdam districts. This reluctance is also apparent in the reaction of Rotterdam authorities to the arrival and settlement of new migrants from Central and Eastern Europe in the aftermath of the EU-enlargement in 2004, the central topic of this chapter. Although statistics about the size of Central and Eastern European (further CEE) migrants and how many families actually live in the city are contested, Rotterdam authorities estimated their numbers to be up to 50,000 (Municipality Rotterdam 2015).

However, as Vertovec (2007: 1025) stresses, superdiversity is not only about more ethnicities or nationalities in receiving communities, but it is also about a "multiplication" of other relevant variables such as differential immigration statuses or labour market outcomes. As we shall argue, CEE labour migrants in Rotterdam are a diverse population in various respects. Firstly, in terms of temporality. Although many CEE labour migrants are typical temporary or 'circular' migrants, who travel

E. Snel (\*) · M. 't Hart

Department of Public Administration and Sociology (DPAS), Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: snel@essb.eur.nl

M. van Ostaijen Tilburg School of Governance, Tilburg University, Tilburg, The Netherlands e-mail: m.vanostaijen@uvt.nl

up and down between sending and receiving countries, a growing number of them settle more permanently in the Netherlands (Engbersen et al. 2013). Secondly, in terms of socio-economic status. CEE labour migrants are also diverse in terms of their labour market positions. Although many of them work in low-skilled, low-paid and often flexible jobs, and sometimes in informal work arrangements, some CEE labour migrants have relatively high occupational positions. They work as IT specialists, dentists or as scientific researchers (Engbersen et al. 2013). This shows that the popular image of CEE labour migrants as workers at 'the bottom' of the urban labour markets is too simplistic. Despite these multiple diversities, this chapter will argue that the Rotterdam political debates and local policies regarding CEE migrants seem to rely on complexity reduction, especially regarding its temporality and socio-economic status. Rotterdam policies mainly focus on temporary low-skilled workers and the (alleged) problems related to this category (such as flexible work relations, exploitation by irregular temporary employment agencies, uncertain housing conditions in overcrowded accommodations, with disorder and public nuisance as a result, etc.) while neglecting the fact that other CEE labour migrants and their families live in Rotterdam in far more stable conditions.

This chapter consists of four parts. The first part discusses what we know from previous research about the social and economic position of CEE migrants in the Netherlands and more specifically in Rotterdam. The second part maps how the city of Rotterdam responds to these 'new' migrant groups in the city by means of local policy efforts. One recurring issue on the Rotterdam agenda, as we shall see, relates to (alleged) nuisance caused by CEE labour migrants in already vulnerable Rotterdam districts where they live. The third part of this chapter, based on administrative data from Rotterdam, examines whether the influx of CEE nationals in Rotterdam districts has indeed resulted in increased numbers of *registered incidences* of nuisance and/or in the increased *perceptions* of disorder among neighbourhood residents. We conclude with some general remarks about the Rotterdam policy approach on CEE migration.

#### **8.1 CEE Migrants in Rotterdam**

Rotterdam has always been a city of immigrants. In the late nineteenth century, Rotterdam expanded rapidly from being a small town with 90,000 residents to a major city with over 300,000 residents. This rapid population increase was mainly due to the massive influx of internal labour migrants and their families from the southern Dutch provinces, Brabant and Zeeland; these migrants were, so to say, early 'allochthonous' (literally: from another territory) in Rotterdam. Like so many West-European cities, Rotterdam received a second wave of labour migrants and their families in the 1960s and 1970s. These so-called 'guest workers' mainly came from Mediterranean countries such as Turkey and Morocco. And now, Rotterdam is experiencing a third period of migrant workers, this time from the new EU-member states in Central and Eastern Europe.

**Fig. 8.1** EU-nationals from Central and Eastern European countries in Rotterdam (2004–2015). (Source: Municipality of Rotterdam (OBI))

The first CEE labour migrants arrived in Rotterdam already before 2004, the year of the first EU-enlargements.1 In January 2004, 1450 CEE nationals were officially registered in the city. Although the municipal statistics do not tell us what these CEE nationals did at the time, we can assume that most of them were labour migrants, particularly from Poland. Already in the 1990s, the Dutch government signed an agreement with Poland that enabled Polish workers to be employed in the agriculture and horticulture sector. As a result of this agreement, thousands of temporary workers came to the Netherlands to work in the horticultural industry such as in the municipality of Westland (Sert 2014). Most likely, some of these temporary migrant workers were housed in Rotterdam. Between 2004 and early 2015, the total number of *registered* CEE nationals in Rotterdam increased from 1450 to 12,300.2 About half of the CEE nationals in Rotterdam came from Poland, but the city also hosts relatively large numbers of Bulgarians, Hungarians and Romanians (see Fig. 8.1). With a total population of 625,000 residents (early 2015), this implies that 2% of the total Rotterdam population is registered as 'CEE national'.

<sup>1</sup> In May 2004, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Lithuania, Latvia, Malta, Poland, Slovakia and Slovenia joined the European Union. In January 2007, Romania and Bulgaria also acceded to the EU, as did Croatia in January 2014.

<sup>2</sup> In this chapter we use data about the number of CEE *nationals* in Rotterdam, rather than the number of "allochthonous" which is more familiar in the Netherlands. The latter figure includes anyone who is either born in *or* who has at least one parent born in a CEE country. This includes long-term CEE residents in the Rotterdam (for instance, CEE family migrants who once arrived in the Netherlands) and also children of mixed couples. By using data about CEE nationals, we intent to focus on recently arrived CEE migrants in Rotterdam (partly migrant workers, but also students and recently arrived family migrants). The number of CEE nationals is somewhat lower than the number of CEE residents in Rotterdam measured by "country of birth". These figures include nationals from Bulgaria, Romania, and Croatia in all years, although these countries joined the EU only in 2007 and 2014 respectively.

However, the actual number of CEE migrants residing in the city of Rotterdam is higher than the number of those registered in the municipal population registrations. As previous research shows, many CEE migrants do not register with the local authorities. In fact, according to Dutch immigration legislation, foreigners are only obliged to register when they stay (or intent to stay) more than 4 months. In a survey of 150 labour migrants from Poland, Romania and Bulgaria in Rotterdam, only one third of the respondents reported they had actually registered with the municipality (Snel et al. 2011a, b: 18). This corresponds with later research of Van der Heijden et al. (2013). Using statistical estimation techniques and various sources of administrative data, they estimate that 340,000 CEE residents were actually present in the Netherlands in 2010, three times more than the number of registered CEE residents at the time. Applying this ratio to the number of registered CEE residents in the city, the Rotterdam authorities estimate that there are between 30,000 and 50,000 CEE residents in the city (Municipality Rotterdam 2015).3

For the time being, we can conclude that we do not have exact figures about the amount of CEE residents in Rotterdam. We do know that a small majority (53%) of the registered CEE residents in Rotterdam is female.4 This shows that the migration from Central and Eastern Europe to Rotterdam (and to Western Europe in general) is in line with the more general trend towards a "feminization" of international migration (Castles et al. 2014). We also know that the registered CEE residents in Rotterdam are concentrated in specific Rotterdam districts such as Delfshaven in the northern part and Feijenoord and Charlois, located in the southern part of the city. These districts are known as places with relatively many private landlords renting accommodation. Migrant workers are often in need of immediate lodging, and as public housing has long waiting queues, private rented dwellings are attractive for them, even when they are overcrowded (migrant workers often have to share a bedroom), poorly maintained or costly (De Leeuw et al. 2016; Snel et al. 2011a, b: 30).

Another relevant issue concerns the return intentions of CEE labour migrants. Although CEE migrant workers are often perceived and treated as typical temporary or circular migrants, a growing number of them intends to stay longer or even permanently in the Netherlands. When asked how long they intend to stay in the Netherlands, only one in five of the Rotterdam respondents indicated they wanted to stay in the Netherlands for 2 years at most (Snel et al. 2011a, b: 33). About one third of the respondents wanted to stay for 5 years or longer (including permanently) and about 40% of them said they "don't know" how long they will stay. The latter answer, also called 'intentional unpredictability', is said to be typical for many CEE migrants in Western Europe (Drinkwater et al. 2010). In Rotterdam, about one in three of the Polish and Romanian respondents and not less than 45% of the Bulgarian respondents said they do not know whether they will stay in the Netherlands. This illustrates the uncertain life conditions and prospects of many CEE migrant workers

<sup>3</sup>Uitvoeringsagenda 2015–2018, pp. 6.

<sup>4</sup>Rapportage Monitor EU-arbeidsmigratie 2014, pp. 10.

in Rotterdam. Next to this, there are growing numbers of long-term residencies in Rotterdam. The municipal registration data shows that 17% of all registered CEE residents in Rotterdam had resided in the city between 5 and 10 years, while 15% even lived in Rotterdam 10 years or longer (Municipality Rotterdam 2013: 14).

This more (semi-)permanent settlement in Rotterdam implies in most cases the settlement of more families and children. As recent research shows, the total number of children, (aged 0 until 17 years) from EU residents residing and registered in Rotterdam, almost doubled between 2010 and 2014 (from 1639 to 2804 children) (Seidler et al. 2015, 30). Although the share of CEE children of all minors in Rotterdam (about 2%) is not that large, this share may be higher in some Rotterdam districts with many CEE migrants. Particularly in these districts, schools complain about strong fluctuations in the presence of children from CEE migrants. As their parents are highly mobile, the children show up and unexpectedly disappear again from schools. As a participant in an expert meeting mentioned: "*I have to deal with extreme movements within one school year. I have 250 movements annually, which are 250 pupils who flow in and out (..). In some classes this is 70 per cent*".5 Another issue often mentioned in Rotterdam policy circles relates to families and children 'out of sight': migrant children in Rotterdam who are not registered and also do not attend school. One of the reasons for this commotion came from reports that Romanian and Bulgarian juveniles in Rotterdam would not attend school, but are instead involved in delinquent activities. However, when the Rotterdam City Council then asked for information about the number of unregistered children from CEE parents in Rotterdam,6 researchers found "no strong indications" that Rotterdam has large numbers of unregistered children not attending school.7

To understand the labour market position of CEE residents in Rotterdam we have to rely on relatively small surveys among CEE labour migrants. The first survey gives information about 400 Polish workers in two Rotterdam districts (Tarwewijk and Oud-Mathenesse). About half of the respondents work in horticulture or food production, but also in construction work. The majority of the respondents earned about the Dutch legal minimum wage. Despite this low wage level (at least for Dutch standards), only few respondents were discontent with their present work (Municipality Rotterdam 2008a: 10–17). Some years later, Snel et al. (2011a, b: 20–23) surveyed 150 Polish, Romanian and Bulgarian migrant workers in Rotterdam. Something peculiar in the sample of Bulgarians is that many of them have a Turkish ethnic background. Although this gives them the opportunity of receiving support from Dutch-Turkish residents in Rotterdam, for instance,

<sup>5</sup>Cited in: Van Ostaijen et al. (2015), *Social consequences of CEE migration. Country report of the Netherlands*. Internal report of the Imagination project, pp. 24.

<sup>6</sup> http://www.vvdrotterdam.nl/blog/-/moelanders-een-probleem-of-niet/1389

<sup>7</sup>The researchers found some unregistered children who do attend school. When asked why the parents did not register themselves with the municipality, the researcher found that is sometimes due to lack of knowledge, but also to private landlords who prohibit their tenants to register, for instance when too many people live in overcrowded houses (Seidler et al. 2015).

obtaining jobs from Turkish employers, the Bulgarians in the sample have the lowest socio-economic profile. Half of the Bulgarian respondents work in informal work arrangements, often with a Turkish employer. Most Polish respondents are employed by temporary employment agencies (in Dutch: 'uitzendbureaus'). Although many respondents are well-educated, about half of them work in either unskilled manual jobs or in (also mostly unskilled) agricultural work. One in three respondents (half of all Polish respondents) say they work below their educational level. The salaries are generally low: around and sometimes even below the legal minimum wage level in the Netherlands. On the other hand, about one in ten respondents appear to have higher qualified professional occupations. They work as IT-specialists, scientific researchers, dentist or as an architect. This, again, illustrates the diversity among CEE labour migrants in Rotterdam and it shows the diversity of this migrant population in terms of their intention to stay, their labour market position and their skill level. Now, we will study how Rotterdam local political and policy actors responded to this issue.

#### **8.2 Local Politics and Policies Regarding CEE Migrants in Rotterdam**

The year 2002 was a crucial moment in the history of local politics in Rotterdam. Since World War II, Rotterdam was governed by the Dutch Labour Party (PvdA), but from the year 2000 onwards there were growing complaints about crime and nuisance in the city and the (alleged) multicultural tolerance of the Rotterdam city administration. This resulted in the sudden rise of the politician Pim Fortuyn. When his political party 'Liveable Rotterdam' won the local elections it became the main force in the new city administration (2002–2006). This was a turning point in Rotterdam's local politics and administrative culture. Some even termed it a 'regime change' implying that the central issues of Liveable Rotterdam – a strong focus on crime and safety issues and a critical stance on immigration and multiculturalism – would remain, even if the party was not in the city administration (Tops 2007). This new 'regime' focus implied different political and policy reactions, also in the years when Liveable Rotterdam was not represented in the City Board (this was the case from 2006 to 2014).

Figure 8.2 shows that the issue of CEE migration was often discussed in the Rotterdam local politics. The figure shows how often specific Dutch words related to this migrant category (terms like 'MOE-land'8 and 'labour migration') were used in official Rotterdam City Council documents throughout the period 2000–2014.9

<sup>8</sup>Literally "CEE land". "MOE" can be translated as 'Middle and Eastern Europe' ("Midden en Oost Europa").

<sup>9</sup> http://www.ris.rotterdam.nl, searched on 'MOE-land' and 'arbeidsmigratie' between the period 01-01-2000 and 01-01-2015 in 'all documents'.

**Fig. 8.2** 'MOE-land' and 'labour migration' in Rotterdam City Council documents (2000–2014). (Source: Municipality of Rotterdam (Rotterdam City Council))

Figure 8.2 shows that the political attention for 'CEE migrants' (in Dutch: 'MOE-landers') and, as it was termed afterwards: 'labour migration' (in Dutch: 'arbeidsmigratie') started around 2005 and became a more prominent topic in 2007. The year 2007 was also the moment when the cities of Rotterdam and The Hague jointly organized a so-called 'Poles summit',10 to which the Labour Party (PvdA) aldermen in both cities played a crucial role. The summit was meant to raise public awareness and attention from national policy makers for what was framed as the local consequences of the European policy of free movement. Forty-two municipalities and two national ministers attended the summit. Also after this occasion, Rotterdam continued to 'knock at the door of the national government' to ask for policy measures, since they realised 'we cannot do things on our own' (Municipality Rotterdam 2008a: 27). Although the 'Poles Summit' did not deliver direct policy results, it was an important moment for the agenda setting to raise attention to this issue. As the Rotterdam alderman Karakus (PvdA) reflects on how he aimed to raise attention to the issue of overcrowded housing:

*Along the way I went to all chairmen of all political parties in the national Parliament and described the problem. […] I've shown how many people we encountered in those houses, which scared people. Then the government was awakened by the Parliament: you have to do something about this*. 11

<sup>10</sup>The term of this summit does not refer to the fact that only Polish people were present or that all issues on the agenda were related to Polish 'migrants'. This term was used and is a reflection of the public opinion regarding CEE migration in the Netherlands is very much focused on Polish people.

<sup>11</sup> Interview with (former) Rotterdam alderman Hamit Karakus.

In the same period, The Hague's alderman Norder (also PvdA) referred to this issue as "a tsunami of CEE migrants", while his Rotterdam counterpart Karakus said it was 'mopping the floor with the tap wide open' to combat the local consequences of CEE migration. Karakus particularly demanded legislation to combat illegal landlords, so he could 'hit them in their kidneys'. It strongly marked this period and the local efforts for national awareness and attention towards this issue.

A second peak in the political attention for CEE migrants in Rotterdam was in 2011. This was on the one hand related to various local policies (on housing, labour market issues and nuisance) that were debated in the City Council. On the other hand, the attention-raising period succeeded, which resulted in a national Parliamentary Commission (Temporary Parliamentary Commission 2011) 'Lessons concerning recent labour migration' which examined the social and economic consequences of CEE migration to the Netherlands. This commission placed the issues of Rotterdam on the national agenda. After that, the term "MOE-land" became gradually replaced by the politically more generative term 'EU labour migrants'.12 This new term also included other EU labour migrants, such as migrants from Southern European countries.

When looking at the Rotterdam policy discussions regarding CEE migrants, we distinguish four different problem definitions. *Firstly*, there were major concerns regarding the housing situation of CEE migrants in relation to (alleged) nuisance in the 'old neighbourhoods' of Rotterdam. CEE labour migrants generally had to rely on private landlords as far as they were not housed by their employers and were unable to deal with the waiting lists for public housing. In practice, many CEE migrants ended up in overcrowded, privately rented houses in deprived urban areas, particularly in the southern part of the city (De Leeuw et al. 2016). Already at the 'Poles Summit', the Rotterdam spokesmen underlined the problems of illegal tenants, overcrowded dwellings and inconveniences in public spaces in these vulnerable districts (Municipality Rotterdam 2008b, 2011, 2012). As a more recent policy document states:

*[…]we attack (residential) nuisance. And do not accept that too many people live in too small houses. Where we want to prevent that inhabitants live in large scale and badly maintained houses with fire- and safety risks. And above all: where we will prevent the heavy burden on neighbourhoods which are already under social and economic pressure.* (Municipality Rotterdam 2015: 2)

The Rotterdam administration attempted to tackle this issue in two different ways. On the one hand, Rotterdam demanded more support, better legislation and effective policy instruments from the national government. This resulted in a wide range of national policies, laws and legislation addressing issues raised by Rotterdam and other cities. For example Rotterdam raised the issue of the 'uneven distribution' of low-income households in 'vulnerable' neighbourhoods. This resulted that the National Parliament accepted a new law, the 'Act Exceptional Measures for Urban

<sup>12</sup>Mainly because of resistance felt from CEE migrants groups with the word 'MOE-landers'. Partly because the Dutch word 'moe' also means 'tired', which was perceived as stigmatising.

Problems' (also known as the '*Rotterdam Act'*), This Act enabled Rotterdam from 2006 onwards to develop a selective settlement policy for vulnerable districts.13 More specifically, this instrument enabled the municipality to refuse non-working households to settle in specific Rotterdam districts, at least when they arrive from outside Rotterdam. Next to this, the Minister of Housing, Neighbourhoods and Integration (WWI) declared that specific urban neighbourhoods are disproportionally under pressure (Letter to Parliament 2010), which directly addressed the 'problem definition' of Rotterdam. An *Intention Declaration* was developed to enlarge the instruments of local governments in an 'Approach to attack slum landlords' (Letter to Parliament 2012). And above all, the Rotterdam Act was revised in 2013 (Rotterdam Act II) as a direct response to new urban concerns about irregular landlords and disturbances in public spaces in these districts. These examples show how Rotterdam's problem definitions gained national acknowledgment and how they were an important incentive for national legislation and policy instruments (Municipality Rotterdam 2008b, 2015).

On the other hand, Rotterdam developed new local policies related to 'irregular' housing and related nuisance caused in already 'vulnerable districts' (Municipality Rotterdam 2007, 2015). For this 'top priority', Rotterdam developed several policies to intervene in private housing situations. For instance, the city started to attack illegal housing with the so-called 'Alijda Approach' (Municipality Rotterdam 2007). This approach introduced a quota to forbid 'more than two temporary labour migrants' per dwelling in certain 'vulnerable' neighbourhoods. To combat irregular slum landlords, the city developed a 'three strikes you're out'-policy, implying that house owners lost their Housing Permit if they were penalized for three deviancies. As the former Rotterdam alderman Karakus noted:

*We had a black list of housing owners who putted too many people in one place. And we finished that list. 'Three strikes you're out' was a theme we took very serious. Later this also has been accepted by the Parliament*.

This policy approach enabled Rotterdam to intervene more directly in the private sphere and to solve the issues related to housing (Municipality Rotterdam 2008b, 2015).

A *second* major policy concern of the Rotterdam authorities related to CEE migration, next to housing issues, concerned the exploitation of workers by irregular employers and temporary employment agencies. According to the previous mentioned Parliamentary Commission LURA (2011: 52), there were at least 5000 irregular temporary employment agencies active in the Netherlands, employing about 100,000 (foreign) workers. These irregular agencies are seen as a major

<sup>13</sup>Rotterdam requires from new residents in certain vulnerable that they have a so-called settlement permit ('huisvestigingsvergunning'). This permit is only issued either when the household in question has an income from work (or from study allowances or pensions) or when the household resides in the city for 6 years or longer. This measure was not explicitly aimed at migrants, let alone CEE migrants, but was intended to reduce the number of 'vulnerable' residents in these already 'vulnerable' Rotterdam districts (Hochstenbach et al. 2015).

problem, not only because of the exploitation of foreign workers, but also because native (and previous migrant) workers are unable to compete with this cheap foreign labour. Already at the 'Poles Summit' in 2007, Rotterdam demanded measures from the national government to counteract irregular temporary agencies. Although regulating temporary employment agencies is not really a task of local administrations, the municipalities of Rotterdam and The Hague agreed a Covenant with employment agencies to mediate between the demands of employers and potential employees (Municipality of Rotterdam 2007, 2008b, 2011, 2012). Some years later, Rotterdam participated in the 'Rotterdam Approach Malafide Employment Agencies' (RAMU) that agreed on intensified controls and regulations to counteract malafide agencies together with the national interest organisation of temporary employment agencies (ABU). This is an example of how the Rotterdam city Board tried to counteract irregularities regarding labour market issues of CEE migrants. Unfortunately most of the issues were outside the legal scope of municipalities, or as one of the civil servants indicated it afterwards: "*With the Minister, the Inspection and the organisation of temporary employment agencies (ABU) we made a plan, as we said quite tough in those days, to 'get 100 irregular temporary agencies of the market'. But that is complicated, since as a municipality we have a very limited role, there are others active in this".*

A *third* policy concern focussed on the issue of non-registration of CEE migrants. Following Dutch immigration rules, foreigners are only obliged to register with the local authorities if they (intend to) stay for 4 months or longer in the Netherlands, resulting that many migrants stay out of sight. Research indicated that one third of the respondents was not registered with the municipality (Snel et al. 2010: 18), Rotterdam demanded better legislation to keep residents 'in sight'. This then evolved into the new law, Register New Inhabitants (RNI) (see: van Ostaijen et al. 2015). This law made it possible to cluster data of different public authorities to make resident addresses easier visible. The new law was introduced by the Ministry of Internal Affairs in response to demands of Rotterdam (and The Hague). Or as one Rotterdam civil servant reflects on this: *"all the time that I'm involved, registration is an issue. And it stays an issue. […] Therefore, our demand is to make this a national approach".* As such, despite these new laws and legislation, improvements are still needed.

A *final* policy problem is related to Dutch language courses for 'CEE migrants'. As EU citizens, CEE migrants are not obliged to take any kind of language or integration courses. Therefore, in the beginning (2007–2012), Rotterdam offered CEE migrants free 'integration courses'. Nowadays, CEE migrants can still take language courses, with the prerequisite that they need to be registered at the municipal registration. Mostly, there is a reduced fee with specific attention to certain target groups (language courses for women, integration courses, illiteracy). There was nevertheless a stable focus on language and integration in the political and policy attention in Rotterdam (Municipality Rotterdam 2013).

#### **8.3 CEE-Residents and Disorder in Rotterdam Districts: A 'Fact Check'**

A major issue in the public and political debate about CEE migrants in Rotterdam relates to nuisance and disorder in those districts where many migrants settle. Since there are long waiting queues for public housing, many CEE-labour migrants have to rely on privately rented houses. Particularly, in the southern part of the city, there are various districts with a relatively large stock of privately rented housing that attract newly arrived CEE migrants. These are relatively deprived areas, with an old and sometimes dilapidated housing stock, largely populated by residents with a migrant background, and with more than average unemployment and poverty rates. The influx of CEE migrant workers would put these already vulnerable Rotterdam districts under even more stress. A recurrent issue in Rotterdam policy and political debates is how the influx of CEE migrant workers causes inconveniences in these areas: from overcrowded houses, which cause shortage of parking facilities to public nuisance, including noise and public drinking.

Using statistical data from the Rotterdam Safety Monitor (2007–2013), we examine whether there is any empirical ground for the alleged association between the influx of CEE nationals in Rotterdam districts on the one hand and increased numbers of (reported) incidences of nuisance *and* the perceptions of residents about nuisance on the other hand. In our analysis we use two different indicators to measure nuisance in Rotterdam districts: the number of reported incidences of nuisance per 1000 residents (Table 8.1) and the share of respondents that say there is "often" nuisance in their own neighbourhood (Table 8.2). The first indicator can be regarded as a more or less objective measure of nuisance, the latter is the subjective perception of nuisance by district residents.

Starting with Table 8.1, model 1 shows that the number of registered incidences of nuisance slightly decreases over the years. Most years in model 1 show negative values, indicating less registered incidences of nuisance compared to the reference year (2007), although none of the indicators are significant. In model 2 we included the share of CEE nationals in the district population as a new factor in the analysis. It appears to have a significant positive effect on the number of registered incidences in the district: the more CEE nationals in the district, the more incidences. However, this apparent effect disappears again when we include several other neighbourhood characteristics in the analysis. Model 3 shows significant positive effects of various neighbourhood characteristics on the occurrence of incidences: the more privately rented housing, the more juveniles, the more low income households and a 'functional mix' (that is: housing, shops and other businesses) in the district, the more incidences of nuisance. Moreover, there is a rather *surprising negative effect* of the share of non-Western residents in the district: the more non-Western residents, the less incidences. The reason for this negative effect is not quite clear. When we take these effects into account, there is no negative effect of the presence of CEEnationals on the number of incidences anymore.


**Table 8.1**Regression analysis on reported nuisance per 1000 residents in Rotterdam districts (N = 437)

164

\*\*\*p < 0.001;\*\*p < 0.010;\*p < 0.050;~p < 0.100 (two-tailed)


**Table 8.2** Regression analysis on % of residents that say there is "often" nuisance in their own district (N = 312)

#### **Technical explanation**

**Dependent variables**: reported incidences of nuisance per 1000 residents of Rotterdam neighbourhoods (Table 8.1) and share of respondents (15 years or older) per neighbourhood that say there is "often" nuisance in the public sphere in their own neighbourhood (Table 8.2).

**Control variables**: (1) CEE migrants as % of the total population per district (note that these data relate to foreign-born individuals, including second generation migrants, but only those who live in Rotterdam since the EU Enlargement in 2004); (2) all individuals with non-Western origin, including second generation, as a % of the total population per district (thus: anyone born or with at least one parent born in a non-Western country); (3) public housing as % of the total housing stock per district; (4) private rented houses as % of the total housing stock per district; (5) juveniles (18–23 years) as % of the total population per district; (6) low-income households as % of all households per district; (7) whether or not a district is classified as "functional mixed", that is with both housing, shops and other industries or activities.

After residue analysis, two Rotterdam districts (Wielewaal and Pendrecht) are removed from the analyses.

Source: http://rotterdam.buurtmonitor.nl/jive; https://wijkprofiel.rotterdam.nl/ \*\*\*p < 0.001;\*\* p < 0.010;\*p < 0.050;~p < 0.100 (two-tailed)

Similarly, Table 8.2 examines the possible association between the presence of CEE-nationals in Rotterdam districts and the residents' *perception* of nuisance in the district. A first remarkable outcome is that values in model 1 are significant and positive. This implies that, compared to the situation in 2007, in later years more respondents *think* there is much nuisance in the district – although we just saw that the number of registered incidences decreased over the years. Model 2, again, shows a positive effect of the share of CEE migrants in the local population on the perception of nuisance: the more CEE-nationals in the district, the more residents perceive nuisance in the neighbourhood. Contrary to the analysis in Table 8.1, this effect remains when we include the other neighbourhood characteristics into the analyses (model 3). Although this model also shows significant effects of the size of minority populations and the share of low-income households on the perceptions of nuisance, the presence of CEE migrants still has a strong and positive effect on the perceptions of nuisance.

In short, our analyses point out a rather remarkable difference between more objective measures of the occurrence of nuisance and the residents' subjective perceptions of nuisance. Although we could not find an independent effect of the presence of CEE migrants on the number of registered incidences of nuisance,14 the presence of CEE migrants has an effect on resident perceptions of nuisance: the more CEE migrants live in a district, the more residents *perceive* nuisance in their neighbourhood – although we could not find a direct association between the presence of CEE migrants and registered practices of nuisance.

#### **8.4 Discussion**

How does a superdiverse city like Rotterdam react to a new, substantial form of migration? Rotterdam has always been a city of immigrants. Its harbour and industries also attracted migrant workers in the past, both internal migrants and foreign workers. Since the EU-enlargements in 2004 and 2007, Rotterdam, like many other European cities, is confronted with substantial numbers of CEE migrant workers and their families. In this chapter we described what this new migrant category means for the city, and particularly how Rotterdam, by means of its political debate and local policies, reacted to it.

On the one hand, we emphasized that although CEE migrants are generally perceived as a homogeneous category ('de MOE-landers') in the Dutch media and politics, in reality it is a rather diverse group. Not only did they arrive from a variety of CEE-countries, they are also diverse in other aspects. CEE-migrant workers are not only young males and females, looking for low-skilled and temporary jobs in Rotterdam industries and in the horticultural sector of Rotterdam's neighbouring city Westland. Different from previous periods of labour migration, CEE migrants are often quite well educated. Although many of them indeed work in low-qualified jobs (a clear example of de-qualification after migration), some CEE migrants were found in highly qualified positions. Whereas many migrant workers started as typical circular migrants, quite a few of them settled meanwhile permanently with families and children. In other words, CEE migrants in Rotterdam are far more diverse than popular images of temporary workers at 'the bottom of the urban labour market' suggest. As such, this new migrant category contributes to the already existing 'superdiversity' in Rotterdam as an immigrant city (Vertovec 2007).

<sup>14</sup>The initial effect was 'explained away' by the other neighbourhood characteristics.

To understand Rotterdam's policy reaction to the influx of CEE migrant workers, one should keep in mind the specific political climate in Rotterdam in the early 2000s. After the rise of political party Liveable Rotterdam, there was a growing discontent about the city's multicultural policies of the 1990s. A stricter approach on immigration, multiculturalism and security issues also influenced other parties in Rotterdam local politics, including the Labour Party (PvdA) that came back in the City Board from 2006 to 2014 (van Ostaijen and Scholten 2014). This political climate also characterised Rotterdam's rather hesitant or even reluctant policy approach regarding CEE migrants in the city. Our main argument in this chapter is that Rotterdam problem definitions and policy efforts related to CEE migrants do not reflect the actual diversity within this migrant category. Our analysis rather displays Rotterdam as a case of *complexity reduction* with a specific focus of local policies on temporary, mainly young, male and low-skilled migrants and on the (alleged) problems associated with these categories (such as exploitation by irregular temporary employment agencies, uncertain housing conditions and nuisance caused by drinking in public spaces), while neglecting the fact that other CEE migrants and their families live in far more stable conditions.

Indicative for this complexity reduction was the *moral panic* which can be illustrated by two examples. First there were 'stories' about 'invisible children': children of CEE migrant families, who seemed unregistered and not attending school, but allegedly engaged in delinquent activities. A study commissioned by the Rotterdam authorities did not find indications that these phenomena exist in Rotterdam. Secondly, there is also a recurrent narrative in Rotterdam's political and policy debates about the nuisance of CEE migrants in the city's already 'vulnerable' districts. This 'story' states that young, male CEE migrant workers are housed in privately rented, often overcrowded accommodations, which are overrepresented in certain areas in the south of Rotterdam with a vulnerable population (many migrant families, substantial unemployment, social benefit claiming and poverty, many disorderly juveniles). The story continues with the argument that CEE migrants especially have limited privacy in these overcrowded dwellings, which causes public drinking and nuisance in the streets since there is a certain tradition of collective drinking in public spaces among Polish males (Garapich 2011). In this chapter, we examined this story by using municipal data, and looked whether there is an empirical association between the share of CEE nationals in Rotterdam districts and reported incidences of nuisance in the same areas. Our analysis did not confirm this association. The number of registered incidences of nuisance in Rotterdam districts is related to other neighbourhood characteristics such as the share of juveniles and non-Western immigrants in the neighbourhood population and the share of privately rented dwellings, rather than with the share of CEE nationals in the district. We did, however, find that people's *perceptions of nuisance* in the neighbourhood were associated with the share of CEE nationals. The more CEE nationals in a Rotterdam district, the more residents *perceive* nuisance as a problem of the area.

Both illustrations of this 'moral panic' are indicative of the specific complexity reduction from the side of Rotterdam authorities. On the one hand, the EU perspective reduces the complex East-West migration picture by mainly underlining the positive consequences of this new form of mobility flow. On the other hand, local authorities also reduce the complexity of CEE migration by focusing their attention mainly on social problems (allegedly) caused by young, male, generally lowskilled, temporary migrant workers. These public and political perceptions tend to simplify EU migration in terms of specific 'types' of migrants rather than acknowledging and capturing the differentiated nature of contemporary CEE migration to the Netherlands, and to Rotterdam. In our view, this complexity reduction is counterproductive, not only because it contributes to the contested character of CEE migration in the Netherlands, but also because it hinders the quest for effective policy solutions. For instance, local policies should not only find temporary housing facilities for temporary migrant workers, but also help migrants and their families, who want to stay in the Netherlands for longer periods of time, to find better accommodations. Local policies should not only fight the exploitation of migrant workers by irregular temporary employment agencies, but also help migrants to find employment on par with their educational level. Local policies should not only try to reduce nuisance in Rotterdam districts caused by young male migrants, who live in overcrowded houses without any room for privacy, but should also support migrants and their families to find proper housing facilities.

Concluding, the focus on Rotterdam displays the specificity in the Rotterdam approach towards CEE migrants, considering it as a coherent category or group. But the homogenous characterisations (which can be derived from concepts such as 'MOE-landers', 'Poles-summit' and 'Poland working groups') contrasts strongly with the heterogeneity that we showed in terms of nationality, ethnicity, socialeconomic status and temporality of stay. Our chapter shows this diversity and the efforts of Rotterdam to reduce this complexity, while one could argue that its heterogeneous character demands a more diversified approach.

As such this chapter reveals the 'other story' of a more reluctant superdiverse city, like Rotterdam. Our analysis shows the complexity reduction of a city coming to terms with its superdiverse character as a city of migration. But as a reluctant city, Rotterdam may not be an extreme or outlier case. There are multiple cities in Europe, and elsewhere in the world, that probably have more in common with such reluctance than with the cosmopolitan approach of more 'happy' superdiverse cities like London, Amsterdam and New York (Foner et al. 2014). As such, our chapter shows that not Rotterdam but these 'happy' superdiverse cities could be seen as outlier cases, which outlines the significance of cities like Rotterdam in the analysis of superdiversity.

169 8 Rotterdam as a Case of Complexity Reduction: Migration from Central and Eastern…

#### **References**


**Open Access** This chapter is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.

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## **Part III Rotterdam in Comparative Perspective**

## **Chapter 9 A Tale of Two Cities: Rotterdam, Amsterdam and Their Immigrants**

**Han Entzinger**

Rotterdam suffers from a 'second-city syndrome'. In many countries of the world the largest two cities are natural rivals, even though that rivalry is experienced more strongly in the second city than in the first one. And indeed, inside the Netherlands Rotterdam (population 635,000) tends to look much more often at Amsterdam (population 835,000) than vice versa. At times, the two cities see each other as rivals: who will have the National Photo Museum, or host the Olympics (if they will ever be granted to the Netherlands)? Rotterdam's Feyenoord and Amsterdam's Ajax are legendary opponents in the national football league. At other times the relationship between the two is more of a joking nature, for example when Rotterdamers do not wish to pronounce the name of the Dutch capital city, and call it by its area code '020' instead.

A major characteristic of both cities is that each of them claims to be very different from the other, even though they are only 60 km or a good half-hour train ride apart. In this chapter I will explore to what extent they indeed are different, focussing, in line with the theme of this volume, on how immigration has impacted on the two. What immigrants have they received, how have these immigrants found their way in the fabric of both cities, and how have the cities responded to these influxes? As we will see, there are similarities, possibly even more than the rivals may tend to believe, but significant differences also exist. These relate to the composition of the immigrant flows, including the more recent ones, to the situation of the immigrants, but also to either city's economic, social and political infrastructure. Most data in this chapter were collected by the Statistical Offices of both cities for a comparative project in which I took part in 2012. It was the first detailed comparative exercise of

H. Entzinger (\*)

Migration and Integration Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: Entzinger@essb.eur.nl

this type related to immigration and immigrant integration.1 Interestingly, and perhaps also surprisingly, many of the data that were previously available were not directly comparable, for example because different categorisations had been used, or because survey questions were phrased differently. Unfortunately, there has been no follow-up to this project so far, which explains why some of the comparative data used in this chapter are not as recent as one might wish.

#### **9.1 A Tale of Two Cities**

Amsterdam is a centuries-old trading centre that grew organically, and is now a hub for commerce and financial services. It boasts a large, historical city centre with a rich cultural life, which serves as a major tourist attraction. Rotterdam is a port and industrial city that underwent rapid growth just in the last 150 years. The city's centre was bombed by the Nazis in the Second World War, and then completely rebuilt. Since that time Rotterdam has taken on the allure of a modern world city – particularly with respect to its architecture. However, this world city has a relatively unilateral economic structure that constantly threatens to become obsolete.

Despite these substantial differences, the two cities also have much in common. Both have their long tradition of immigration to thank for their growth and prosperity. At the end of the Dutch Golden Age, around 1700, 40% of Amsterdam's population had been born abroad. The seeds of Amsterdam's wealth were largely laid down by Antwerp Protestants, French Huguenots and Portuguese Jews. In later centuries, the percentage of immigrants gradually receded. However, it has been growing again over the past few decades (Lucassen and Lucassen 2011). At the moment, a quarter of Amsterdam's population is foreign-born. If the children of those foreign-born residents are included in the count, it appears that just over half of Amsterdam's population belongs to either a first or second generation of immigrants. Unlike in 1700, these immigrants have not only come from neighbouring countries, but from all over the world. And no wonder: distance plays a far less important role today than it did in the past.

Rotterdam's immigration tradition is much more recent. It is only since its advent as a port and industrial city at the end of the nineteenth century that Rotterdam has experienced large-scale immigration. Initially, immigrants mainly came from the rural areas of the south of the Netherlands, but in the last 50 years they originated from a large number of countries, in particular Suriname, Turkey, Morocco and, more recently, Poland. Percentage-wise, as large a share of Rotterdam's population consists of immigrants as is the case in Amsterdam; nevertheless, there are definite differences between the immigrant populations of both cities when it comes to important aspects like origin and educational level.

<sup>1</sup>The full report of this project was published – in Dutch only – as: *De staat van integratie* (2012). It is available on line at: http://www.ois.amsterdam.nl/pdf/2012\_destaatvanintegratie.pdf.

#### **9.2 Demographic Essentials**

To the superficial observer the immigrant situation in Amsterdam appears rather similar to that of Rotterdam. The percentage of residents with an immigrant background is almost the same in both cities. On 1 January 2016, just under half (48.3%) of the population of Amsterdam were native Dutch according to the definition set out by Statistics Netherlands (CBS), namely that the person in question and both of his/her parents were born in the Netherlands.2 This percentage was a fraction higher in Rotterdam, at 50.2%. However, since 2000 the portion of native Dutch in Rotterdam's population has been declining faster than that of Amsterdam. In that year, 60% of Rotterdam's population were still native, compared to 54.7% in Amsterdam. If the populations of both cities continue to develop in a similar manner, Rotterdam will soon overtake Amsterdam – and The Hague – as the Dutch municipality with the greatest proportion of immigrants.

Who are the immigrants in both cities? We will focus here on the largest four communities of non-Western origin in each of the two cities: Surinamese, Antilleans, Turks and Moroccans.3 At first glance the differences between the cities seem to be relatively small, but they do exist. For years, Surinamese formed the largest immigrant community in both Amsterdam and Rotterdam, until they were surpassed by Moroccans in Amsterdam in 2010. Although Amsterdam in particular has an image of a city where many Surinamese settled down, the proportion of this immigrant population is almost identical in both cities: 9.0% in Amsterdam, 8.9% in Rotterdam.4 Moreover, the number of Surinamese in Rotterdam has increased while it has decreased in Amsterdam. This is most likely due to the fact that the formation of a Surinamese middle-class in Amsterdam has further advanced than it has in Rotterdam. And it is among the middle-classes in particular that we see a large exodus from the city. In contrast, Rotterdam traditionally has more Antilleans than Amsterdam, both in percentage terms of the total urban population (3.6% compared

<sup>2</sup>The terms 'immigrant' and 'native Dutch' (in Dutch '*allochtoon*' and '*autochtoon*') are used in this text purely in a descriptive sense, and conform to the definitions used by Statistics Netherlands, Amsterdam and Rotterdam. This implies that members of the so-called second generation are also counted as immigrants, in spite of the fact that they were born in the Netherlands. Statistics Netherlands and the two cities also differentiate between Western and non-Western immigrants. Western immigrants originate in Europe (except Turkey), North America, Australia, New Zealand, Indonesia or Japan. Non-Western immigrants come from all other countries, including those parts of the Kingdom of the Netherlands that are situated in the Caribbean (including the former Netherlands Antilles). The concepts have increasingly become criticised lately for a variety of reasons (Ham and Van der Meer 2012). Recently, Statistics Netherlands formally discontinued the use of the term '*allochtoon*', replacing it by 'persons with a migration background', an internationally much more common term. The differentiation, however, between Western and non-Western migrants is still in use.

<sup>3</sup> In addition, among Rotterdam's non-Western population about 15,000 are of Cape Verdean descent, which makes them the fifth largest non-Western group in the city. Amsterdam's Ghanaian community is of a similar size. Both groups, however, do not have a counterpart in the other city and, mainly for that reason, are left out of the comparisons made in this chapter.

<sup>4</sup>Unless otherwise stated, the data in this chapter relate to the situation in 2010.

to 1.5%) and in absolute numbers (21,000 compared to 11,500). Evidently, many newcomers like to settle in close proximity to the fellow country members preceding them.

The two other large immigrant groups, the Turkish and the Moroccans, are nearly equal in terms of size, at least when they are considered together: in 2010, Rotterdam's population was 14.5% Turkish or Moroccan, in Amsterdam it was 14.3%. But the distribution between the groups differed starkly: More Turkish live in Rotterdam than Moroccans (47,000 compared to 39,000) while Amsterdam has 40,000 Turkish and nearly 70,000 Moroccans. This is most likely attributable to the fact that, half a century ago, at the time of the recruitment of migrant workers, Amsterdam businesses had a preference for those from Morocco, while Rotterdam businesses mainly focused on those from Turkey. No research has ever been done into the reasons for this. Unlike the Surinamese, there is not yet a decline in the growth of the Turkish and Moroccan populations, let alone in their absolute numbers – a sign that the formation of a middle-class and the subsequent move to the suburbs is not as advanced amongst these immigrant groups. There is certainly a trend of moving house amongst the Turkish and Moroccans, but they tend, as yet, to stay within the city limits, moving from the old late nineteenth and early twentiethcentury neighbourhoods to the neighbourhoods that were built in the decades after the Second World War.

#### **9.3 Patterns of Settlement and Segregation**

Thus, we see that in Amsterdam, between 2000 and 2010, the strongest growth, in percentage terms, of non-Western immigrants occurs in the predominantly post-war boroughs of Nieuw-West (from 37% to 49%) and Noord (from 27% to 36%). In contrast, the older boroughs of West and Oost in this period show a slight decline in their non-Western immigrant population: West from 34% to 33% and Oost from 36% to 34%. The city as a whole, however, experienced an increase in its non-Western population – from 31% to 35%. A similar development took place in Rotterdam, where the boroughs of Charlois (from 33% to 46%), IJsselmonde (from 20% to 34%) and Prins Alexander (from 12% to 20%), built wholly or partially after the Second World War, grew relatively quickly. Boroughs with much older buildings and a traditionally large immigrant population grew more slowly: Delfshaven from 57% to 60% and Feijenoord from 50% to 57%. During the first decade of this century, the number of non-Western immigrants in Rotterdam's total population increased from 30% to 37%. Rotterdam has since passed Amsterdam in this respect.

The migration from the older to the post-war neighbourhoods does not mean that there is an automatic decrease in the segregation of immigrants. It is worth noting that this is the case in Rotterdam, but not in Amsterdam. For example, the segregation index for the Turkish in Rotterdam decreased from 48 to 38 between 2000 and 2010, while it increased from 41 to 45 for the Turkish in Amsterdam. The trends are similar for the Moroccans: a decrease from 43 to 35 in Rotterdam and an increase

from 39 to 42 in Amsterdam. The segregation index indicates what percentage of a specific group of a population would have to move to another neighbourhood in order to reach a perfectly proportional distribution of that population throughout the entire city. Amongst the native Dutch population in Amsterdam we also see an increase in segregation, while in Rotterdam there is a (slight) decrease. However, the native Dutch population of Amsterdam is still significantly less segregated than that of Rotterdam. In Rotterdam, 45% of the native Dutch population would have to move in order to achieve a proportional distribution throughout the city; only 27% would need to in Amsterdam.

#### **9.4 Shifting Immigration Flows**

The most notable differences between the immigrant populations of Amsterdam and Rotterdam are among those who do not belong to one of the largest four groups (Turkish, Moroccans, Surinamese and Antilleans). Within this 'residual category' a distinction is made in the population statistics between the 'Western' and 'other non-Western' immigrants. In 2010, 14.9% of the residents of Amsterdam were Western immigrants; in Rotterdam the percentage was 10.8. Strikingly, this population category grew much faster in the first decade of this century in Amsterdam than in Rotterdam (3 percentage points in Amsterdam compared with 1.3 in Rotterdam). In that same period, however, the category 'other non-Western immigrants' grew much faster in Rotterdam: from 7.5% to 10%, while Amsterdam only showed an increase from 9.9% to 10.1%. One may suspect a connection here with differences in the demand for labour, and perhaps in the general power of attraction between the two cities, but more on that later. One should not, however, assume without question that the Western immigrants remain mainly at the top of the labour market and the non-Western immigrants largely on the bottom. For example, all EU citizens, including the Polish, Romanians and Bulgarians are counted as Western immigrants. Many of them perform low-skilled labour. Conversely, the highly skilled knowledge migrants that originate from, amongst others, countries like India and China belong to the non-Western immigrant group. This provides a first indication of the declining usefulness of the classification criteria commonly used in Dutch immigration statistics (Ham and Van der Meer 2012).

Furthermore, we see in both cities that the first generation among all groups is decreasing in size in relative terms, while the second generation is growing. In fact, the growth in the total size of the 'classic' immigrant groups is solely the result of the increase in the second generation. New immigration – for instance, family migration – has nearly come to a halt in the 'classic groups'; national figures also back up this pattern and the expectation is that it will remain so for these groups (Nicolaas et al. 2011).

This increases the average length of time the 'classic' immigrant groups have been established. The average Moroccan resident in Amsterdam has now been living longer in the city than the average native Dutch person. When it comes to the Western immigrants, we see just the opposite: the most recent immigrants include more and more people with a Western background. Many of them appear to leave again quickly, often also leaving the Netherlands. In general, immigrants from Western countries exhibit a higher mobility than those that have come here from non-Western countries. Thus, one can assume that slowly changing patterns of migration in the long run will lead to fewer immigrants taking up permanent residence in the Netherlands than was the case in recent decades (Entzinger 2014). There is no reason to believe that this is different in the two largest cities from anywhere else in the country. However, one may expect a relatively high proportion of the newcomers to the Netherlands to settle down initially in Amsterdam or Rotterdam. This has been the case for many years. All over Europe newcomers demonstrate a strong preference for settling in a metropolitan environment. Fellow countrymen often live there, there is often a package of provisions that matches their needs and there are better opportunities to earn an income.

#### **9.5 The Educational and Employment Situation**

Rotterdam's population, on average, has a much lower education than Amsterdam's. This is the case not only for the native Dutch, but also for their immigrant populations. In 2008, in Rotterdam the ratio between highly educated native Dutch (Bachelor's degree or higher) and native Dutch with a low education (maximum lower professional education or *vmbo-plus*) was 1 to 1 (30% versus 31%). In Amsterdam, by contrast, there were almost three highly educated native Dutch for every native Dutch with a low education (48% versus 18%). Also in 2008, 56% of the non-Western immigrants in Rotterdam had a low education, compared to 41% in Amsterdam. Only 11% of Rotterdam's non-Western immigrant population was highly educated, against Amsterdam's 23%. So, Rotterdam housed five low educated non-Western immigrants for each non-Western immigrant with a higher education, while the ratio in Amsterdam was roughly 2 to 1.

The substantial differences between native Dutch and immigrants in terms of education somewhat obscure the fact that, over the past two decades, a remarkable increase occurred in the overall educational level. However, this increase has taken place in both cities almost equally as fast and – more importantly – the level of education of both the native Dutch and the non-Western immigrants also increased at about the same speed. Thus, the educational gap between the two cities has not really narrowed, nor has the gap between the different groups. Within the major non-Western communities, the Turkish and the Moroccans have the lowest average level of education, while the Surinamese, Antilleans and other groups occupy an intermediate position between them and the native Dutch population.

Notwithstanding the persistence of the educational gap, there has been a significant increase in the participation of immigrants in higher education: There is hardly any underrepresentation of immigrant students in higher professional education (*hbo*) in both cities to speak of anymore. There is still room for catching up at the university level, particularly for the non-Western immigrant groups. The conclusion must be that the share of highly educated immigrants in both cities is certainly increasing, but at the same time that the immigrants will remain overrepresented amongst the low educated for a long time still. The fact that with new waves of immigration, there are also new arrivals of low educated immigrants is also a cause.

A comparison of data in the field of labour for the two cities leads to conclusions that are remarkably similar to those for education. In 2010, gross labour force participation in Amsterdam (employed plus job seeking) was 5 percentage points higher than in Rotterdam (73% versus 68% of all 15–64 year-olds). In both cities participation among the native Dutch is roughly 20 percentage points above the level of persons of Turkish or Moroccan descent, with the Surinamese once more occupying an intermediate position. In the past two decades, labour force participation of non-native Dutch has increased remarkably – notwithstanding conjunctural fluctuations – but the participation level of the native Dutch has increased at almost the same speed. Consequently, the gap between immigrants and non-immigrants has hardly narrowed, a phenomenon similar to that in education.

The lower employment rate of Turkish and Moroccans appears to be caused in both cities largely, though not exclusively, by the low number of women participating in the labour market. In both cities only about one in ten native Dutch women aged 25–34 are not part of the labour force. Of Turkish and Moroccan women in this age group, by contrast, one in two do not participate. One can assume that the difference in the age categories above 35 years is at least as large, if not larger. One promising trend, however, is that the non-participation among young Turkish and Moroccan women of the second generation is at about half the level of the first generation, although it is still well above that of the native Dutch women. There may be cultural reasons for these differences. However, there is also ample evidence that persons with an immigrant background experience more obstacles when entering the labour market than their native Dutch counterparts. They do not always have the same networking and language skills and they may be victims of (indirect) discrimination. In addition, low-educated immigrants also face tougher competition than those with higher qualifications in a labour market that constantly puts up its demands. This is a bigger problem in Rotterdam, where the supply of low-skilled labour is substantially larger than in Amsterdam. I will come back to this later.

#### **9.6 The City as a Way Station**

As already mentioned, big cities exert an almost universal attraction to immigrants. Amsterdam and Rotterdam are no exception. The nineteenth-century immigrants to both cities came mainly from the Dutch countryside and from neighbouring European countries. In the twentieth century, especially in the second half, we saw a surge of migration from more distant regions, even outside of Europe. This development seems far from over, despite the increasing call in political circles for a stricter immigration policy. The demand for labour, the fact that both cities have significant immigrant communities established and the attraction this has for new immigrants, as well as the greatly improved communication and transportation facilities will make Amsterdam and Rotterdam attractive locations for newcomers in the future as well. The fact that both cities have a large number of relatively cheap accommodations for hire will certainly play a role.

However, the two cities are not only destinations of choice for newcomers: they are ever more becoming way stations. Gradually, a process of social ascent starts taking place in the larger, longer established communities of predominantly lower educated immigrants, a process which is often associated with geographic mobility in the form of a departure to the suburbs, which offer more space and tranquillity. We see here a repetition of the emancipation process that took place in the decades after the Second World War among the native Dutch. Thus far, the process is more evident among the Surinamese than among the other two major 'classic' immigrant groups, the Turkish and Moroccans, but eventually, for many of them social and geographical mobility will go hand in hand, all attempts at housing differentiation within existing neighbourhoods notwithstanding. The gentrification process that some older neighbourhoods in both Rotterdam and Amsterdam are undergoing, may keep some of the upwardly mobile within the city limits. Given its present scale, however, it is not very likely that this will involve large numbers.

It is not expected that all members of the 'classic' immigrant groups will undergo a process of social and geographical mobility. The data for both cities clearly show a growing division, also within the migrant communities. Some of them are prospering (sometimes as entrepreneurs), others remain in a situation of deprivation, characterized by low education, poor housing, little prospect of work, poor health and crime. This situation can easily continue in the third and even subsequent generations. The less successful ones will remain in the 'disadvantaged' neighbourhoods, and the homes left behind by the departure of the more successful ones will become free and occupied once more by newcomers. More often than before, these will not be (large) families who will permanently settle in the Netherlands, but singles or small groups living as 'passers-by': migrant workers from Poland, the Balkans, but also from outside the European Union, among them illegal immigrants.

This will cause the least attractive part of the housing stock in the big cities to attain even more of a way station character, with all of the attendant risks: neglect of houses, lack of social cohesion, deprivation, public health risks and crime. If we do not want to leave these areas to their fate, we need to invest heavily in the quality of housing and living environment, properly oversee the enforcement of rules, and also invest in integration, education and facilities for health, sports and welfare. Paradoxically, the residents of these neighbourhoods will probably not always know how to value these investments, as their involvement in the neighbourhood and even the entire urban society is rather limited. The local government should not expect the social involvement to increase dramatically due to a better social climate. The romantic notion of the old city neighbourhood with its sense of community is really a thing of the past, if it even really existed to the extent that people now sometimes assume. Yet this is not an argument against investing, otherwise important parts of both cities could slide into becoming no-go areas for the rest of the urban population.

The way station character of both Amsterdam and Rotterdam will not only become ever more manifest in the socio-economically lower levels, but also at the top. The figures show that more and more highly educated immigrants from both Western and non-Western countries are settling in the Netherlands, Amsterdam as yet being considerably more popular than Rotterdam. There should also be attractive housing available for them and their arrival can affect the social fabric of the city as well. Although they generally require less public attention than the socioeconomically disadvantaged, they will also require special educational facilities, leave their mark on the local associations and perhaps demonstrate less involvement in their surroundings than the native Dutch population because many of them know they will not remain for long and therefore will not always take the trouble to learn Dutch.

#### **9.7 The Importance of the Economy**

Amsterdam and Rotterdam will each in their own way develop even more into 'international' cities – and become ever more distinct from the rest of the Netherlands (with the possible exception of The Hague, the third largest city of the country, where a similar development may occur). This internationalization will have an effect on all areas: the nature and level of facilities, the social fabric, education, health, political participation and so forth. Although both cities experience this development, there are significant differences. These have mainly to do with the fact that the two urban economies are decidedly different. Amsterdam is envisaged in the literature as a typical global city*,* though obviously not with the character and size of a New York or London, but one of the second or perhaps third echelon (Sassen 1991, 2006; Van der Waal and Burgers 2009). Some important features of such a global city are that a large proportion of economic activity has a strong international focus (e.g. in the form of housing the headquarters of multinational enterprises), that there is a highly differentiated economic palette and that it contains a particularly dominant service sector. The most important branches of economic activity in Greater Amsterdam are (in decreasing order): financial institutions, trade and commerce, consultancy and research, and information and communication. These four taken together account for well over 50% of the gross regional product in the Amsterdam area, which amounts to €75,000 per inhabitant. This is almost one-and-a-half times higher than anywhere else in the Netherlands, which illustrates the great economic importance of the city (Jonkers 2017).

Global cities may also be described as cosmopolitan, having a very diverse population and a rich cultural scene. Global cities are certainly not only for the elite, and their labour market is best described by using the hourglass model. The relatively large, higher educated, high earning share of the population generates a lot of demand for domestic and other services, which are provided by the lower educated workers. While global cities generally radiate dynamism, the threat of dichotomization, polarization and segregation always looms above the market. Amsterdam more emphatically satisfies the image of a global city than Rotterdam does (Van der Waal 2010a).

Rotterdam is better typified as a post-industrial city, characterized by one dominant economic activity, its port. And even though employment in the port has declined enormously in the past few decades, a large part of the Rotterdam economy is still directly or indirectly related to the port, such as the very important transport and logistics sector. To illustrate this: in 2014, 444.7 million tonnes of goods passed through the port of Rotterdam as against 97.8 million tonnes through Amsterdam. This made Rotterdam by far the largest port in Europe (Antwerp is second), and Amsterdam the fifth largest. The main branches of economic activity in the greater Rotterdam area are (in decreasing order): trade and commerce, transport and storage, industry, and health and welfare. Jointly they contribute to almost half of the gross regional product, which stands at €43,000 per inhabitant, less than 60% of its Amsterdam equivalent (Jonkers 2017).

The Rotterdam labour market much less takes the shape of the hourglass model than that of Amsterdam, but is characterized by employment opportunities at all levels, including the intermediate levels. At first glance, Rotterdam would therefore offer better possibilities for low-skilled workers than Amsterdam, but there is also a downside. Because the low-skilled work opportunities in Rotterdam are related less directly to the demand from the highly skilled segment of the labour market than in a global city like Amsterdam, the risk is greater that low-level and mid-level functions will relocate elsewhere: why employ Dutch truck drivers when the Polish are cheaper? Rotterdam therefore in effect experiences stronger outside competition than Amsterdam, which is all the more problematic as the proportion of the lower educated in Rotterdam is much larger than in Amsterdam. Rotterdam will have to do its utmost to retain employment opportunities for its low-skilled workers. In the past decade, it needs be said, the city has been highly successful in retaining those workers. In the 2000s, unemployment among lower educated workers declined even more than in Amsterdam, as did the number of benefits claimants. Since the economic crisis of 2008, however, this pattern has reversed. In 2016, the overall unemployment level in the Greater Rotterdam area stood at 8%, against 6% for Amsterdam. For a long time, the level of reliance on public assistance was very similar in the two urban areas, but since 2011 it has slightly increased in Rotterdam, while it has remained constant in Amsterdam. In 2016, 37 inhabitants per thousand benefitted from public assistance, while the corresponding number in Rotterdam stood at 41 (Jonkers 2017). One should keep in mind, however, that reliance on public assistance tends to be higher among the low-educated, and Rotterdam has many more of them than Amsterdam has. For both cities, but certainly for Rotterdam, it is and continues to be of great importance to invest in good job training possibilities, in a smooth transition from school to employment, as well as in retraining and permanent education for workers whose knowledge threatens to become obsolete.

As we have seen repeatedly, the proportion of lower educated workers in the Rotterdam population is considerably larger than in Amsterdam's, both among the native Dutch and among those with an immigrant background. This fact could

account for a number of differences between the two cities, for example the differences in health, in social and political involvement and in the extent to which the population identifies with their neighbourhood, city and country. Overall, the Amsterdam scores on these indicators tend to be higher than those in Rotterdam. It could also explain why Amsterdam at the borough and neighbourhood level has a slightly stronger ethnic segregation than Rotterdam. Ethnic and socio-economic lines fall together more decidedly in Amsterdam than in Rotterdam. Perhaps this is an explanation of why in Rotterdam the Freedom Party scored more than twice as high at the 2017 parliamentary elections as in Amsterdam (15.6% versus 6.8%). This populist party is well known to attract mainly native, lower educated voters. These voters are more likely than higher educated natives to experience displacement and competition from the immigrant labour supply (Van der Waal et al*.* 2011). It may equally explain why Rotterdam's largest local political party, Liveable Rotterdam (*Leefbaar Rotterdam*), which also has significant populist traits, has no equivalent in Amsterdam's local political scene.

Yet there are contraindications that are more difficult to interpret. Crime statistics are traditionally higher among the lower than among the higher educated, yet Amsterdam still has significantly more crime than Rotterdam. This may result from the fact that Amsterdam, as a major international tourist city, attracts a lot of foreign 'scum'. Also, the more repressive security policy that Rotterdam has implemented in the last 15 years – encouraged by Liveable Rotterdam – may play a role here: the relatively high number of suspects arrested in Rotterdam may have contributed to the reduction in the number of crimes. It is also notable that the Amsterdam residents have many more inter-ethnic contacts in the private sphere than the Rotterdam residents. This is all the more surprising since in Amsterdam ethnic and socioeconomic boundaries seem to coincide stronger than in Rotterdam, while most people usually prefer having contacts not only within their own ethnic group, but also with people of similar educational and socio-economic levels.

#### **9.8 The Cultural Climate**

A possible reason for this last paradox may be found in the research of some of my close colleagues at Erasmus University (Van der Waal et al*.* 2011). Following American researchers, such as Richard Florida (2004), they introduced the concept of 'cultural climate', which does not so much denote a summary of characteristics and attitudes of individual citizens as it does a specific urban environment or climate that affects the ideas of the local population. In American studies, this concept has been operationalised through the so-called Bohemian Index, derived from Florida (2002). The index refers to the number of city residents involved in producing art and culture. The larger their number relative to the total urban population, the higher the tolerance for diversity among the population, or so comparative research in American cities has discovered. This applies to the Netherlands as well. Amsterdam in particular scores very high on this index, while the Bohemian Index rate for Rotterdam is just slightly below the average for all Dutch cities (Van der Waal 2010b: 126; Crul and Heering 2008: 123).

Similarly, it is not surprising that, in the latest (2017) general elections held in the Netherlands the two political parties that are the strongest advocates of cultural diversity – GreenLeft (*GroenLinks*) and the left-wing liberals of D66 – ended first and second respectively in Amsterdam, with a total share of 38.5% of all votes. In Rotterdam these two obtained 24.7% of the votes. By contrast, the two largest parties in Rotterdam were the right wing liberal VVD and the populist Freedom Party. They obtained 32.1% of all votes, as against 22.1% in Amsterdam.

Van der Waal et al. show that the cultural climate of a city is more decisive for the way ethnic groups interact with each other than the system of economic opportunities (Van der Waal et al. 2011). This could indeed explain why, despite sharper social-economic differences between natives and immigrants in Amsterdam, there still seems to be more frequent inter-ethnic contact than in Rotterdam. One should, furthermore, not lose sight of the fact that the number of Western immigrants is much higher in Amsterdam than in Rotterdam and is also growing strongly. Part of these immigrants is made up of highly educated Europeans and Americans. It is plausible that a certain share of the inter-ethnic contacts in Amsterdam take place between highly educated natives and highly educated (Western) immigrants, and not between highly educated natives and people who belong to one of the classic 'minority groups'. Nevertheless, the latter two categories will also regularly meet, namely in the context of the service economy so typical of a global city like Amsterdam (Van der Waal 2010a). Although Amsterdam has more inter-ethnic contacts than Rotterdam, considerably more discrimination appears to occur there as well. One might assume that more contacts would also lead to more opportunities for discrimination to occur, but classical contact theory suggests rather the opposite: the more contact, the more mutual understanding increases. In any event, further investigation into how socio-economic and cultural differences affect inter-ethnic contacts, ethnic stereotyping and discrimination in both cities is desirable. The results would undoubtedly contribute to an effective diversity policy.

#### **9.9 Differing Approaches**

This brings us to the government's role in general terms and, more particularly, to its role in promoting social participation and harmonious interethnic relations. Amsterdam and Rotterdam both have been pursuing an integration policy for several decades, even if not always by that particular name. The main goal of this policy has always been involving immigrants, both individually and as groups, with local society. Several studies comparing the Amsterdam and Rotterdam integration policies have reached quite different conclusions as regard their contents and effectiveness. Godfried Engbersen in his book *Fatale remedies* ('Fatal Remedies') finds that the 'rhetorics of integration' has notably differed between the two cities: Rotterdam favours a forceful approach, focusing security and law and order and not shying away from intervening in private affairs.5 Amsterdam, on the other hand, tends to use a softer 'multicultural' model, characterized by the famous desire of ex-mayor Cohen to 'keep things together'. However, Engbersen says, in implementing these contrasting models the cities are more akin than divergent, a conclusion shared by Van Ostaijen and Scholten (2013) in their comparison of policy documents on integration issued by each of the two cities over the past few decades. Though the Rotterdam local government at times may talk about a hard-line approach to integration, Engbersen argues, it has for years now involved the larger Islamic organizations in the city in its policy-making process. The Amsterdam authorities, often described as being more 'soft', have certainly acted vigorously against criminal youth (Engbersen 2009: 171–191).

In contrast to Engbersen, Justus Uitermark in his thesis *Dynamics of Power in Dutch Integration Policies* emphasises the differences between the integration policies of the two cities. He notes that the Rotterdam integration policy has been remarkably consistent, whatever the political composition of the local government at any one time. The desire to prevent strongly concentrated migrant populations in some neighbourhoods has been a central theme of the policy for quite a while now. Rotterdam has also pursued a vigorous civic integration policy and systematically provided professional support to immigrant organizations when shaping its integration policy. Even when Liveable Rotterdam is part of the Municipal Executive (2002–2006 and, once again, 2014–2018) contact with the Islamic organizations has been maintained as ever. This consistency, according to Uitermark, has clearly benefited the transparency and effectiveness of the policy. In Amsterdam, Uitermark finds, the policy has been less consistent over the years. Policy targets have been adjusted often and though the city offered much support to immigrant organizations, it often changed the organizations in favour. Furthermore, support was primarily of a financial nature, not of a professional one, as in Rotterdam. And this is why, Uitermark concludes, 'minorities in Rotterdam are more socially and politically involved, organizations for minorities are more capable of taking action collectively and is there less of a presence of (Islamic) extremism' (Uitermark 2010: 280).

#### **9.10 Future Perspectives**

Amsterdam and Rotterdam have a more diverse population than ever before, yet they also display substantial differences, which stem from, in part, their distinct economic structures and social-cultural climates. In the future, both cities will continue to be major poles of attraction for international immigrants. An ever-increasing share of the population in both cities has an immigrant background, while an increasingly smaller share settles in for the long term. As a result, the two largest cities in the Netherlands are more and more developing into way stations. Many

<sup>5</sup>The development of Rotterdam's local integration policy was analysed in greater detail in Entzinger and Engbersen (2014).

foreign immigrants return to their own countries sooner or later, or even choose to migrate on to a new country. Though the immigration waves of a few decades ago resulted much more frequently in permanent residency than was presumed at the time, one cannot assume that newly arriving international immigrants will continue to settle in permanently. And among those that do remain selective mobility, both in the geographic and social senses, will eventually occur. This pattern is already apparent amongst the older immigrant groups. There is a tendency amongst the disadvantaged immigrants to remain in the city whilst those that are more successful fan out to the suburbs or integrate into Dutch society to such an extent that they are no longer viewed as immigrants (or the descendants of immigrants). Thus, the issues of immigration and integration will continue to present important challenges to both cities far into the future.

For a long time it was assumed that an integration policy oriented specifically at newcomers would be sufficient to allow them to become full members of the local urban society. That idea increasingly appears to be outmoded. The immigrant issue is so encompassing that an integration policy alone is far from adequate to address it. Policy areas like the economy, employment, education, housing and safety are in many ways far more important because they provide the basis for all of the citizens in a city to participate in society regardless of their level of education and whether or not they have an immigrant background. Both Amsterdam and Rotterdam appear to be increasingly aware of this, although their approaches up to this point have differed slightly. Amsterdam seems to invest more in fostering a sense of connectedness with the neighbourhood, while Rotterdam is seeking to promote participation through organizations. Ethnic background is but one factor in an interplay of forces featuring a great many other factors, though. As the number of immigrants rises and the length of their stay increases, the composition of the population becomes more diverse and will consist of minorities only – especially on the level of individual neighbourhoods – the 'ethnic background' factor starts to lose distinctiveness and, thus, relevance (also see Entzinger 2014).

Moreover, the way station nature is becoming ever more prevalent in some neighbourhoods of the cities. The number of people who settle in for the short term only will continue to grow and this population will generally only feel a limited sense of connectedness with urban society. Municipal executives will have to take this increasing way station nature of the bigger cities into account. How can cities with such a rapidly-changing, heterogeneous population base develop social cohesion? If this is the key question, promoting the integration of a few specific immigrant groups cannot remain the main objective of governmental policy – which both Amsterdam and Rotterdam have long since realised. It is much more about creating the conditions for an urban society in which everyone feels welcome and everyone, no matter how short their stay, can contribute as well. In such urban societies the distinction between 'native' or 'immigrant' will no longer occupy such a central position as in past decades. The ethnic background of a citizen can be a relevant factor, also in issues of policy – but it is only one amongst many. It is not a dominating factor that appears to subordinate all others, as is so often the case now. As time goes by, the boundary between immigrant and native will continue to erode. Having an immigrant background is no longer, by definition, an indication of social deprivation. The immigrant population is becoming more heterogeneous and is mixing more and more with the native population. That is how things have always been in the past in the Netherlands, and that has been the way of things (almost) everywhere else.

#### **9.11 Conclusions**

The approach advocated here requires a governmental policy with a primary focus on the urban society in its totality. The local government must continue to strive for a healthy urban economy, a safe living environment, and for high-quality social, cultural and educational facilities that are equally accessible to everyone. This does not mean that in the nearby or somewhat distant future questions may not arise again that pertain specifically to one or several communities. That is logical in an urban society that consists purely of minorities. That is, however, something quite different from implementing an integration policy geared towards all minority groups. Especially now that no actual majority community seems to exist anymore for minorities to integrate in, there is no longer a rationale for a group-oriented integration policy.

Amsterdam and Rotterdam are developing into what Vertovec has labelled 'superdiverse cities' (Vertovec 2007). In the light of this, and despite the differences identified between the cities, we should conclude that a 'classic' local integration policy aimed at individuals and groups would quickly lose its impact. This certainly applies to integration policies that are based on ethnic differences. It appears much more sensible to implement an integration policy for the most relevant policy areas that, as a matter of principle, looks at all citizens as being equal, but that, like any good policy, when necessary takes account of the differences between them, even if these differences stem from their immigrant background or culture. The objective is no longer primarily the integration of (immigrant) citizens into an existing urban society, but rather to promote a sufficiently integrated urban society in which as many citizens as possible feel welcome and at home, even those whose involvement is and will remain limited. The local government cannot accomplish this by itself. Businesses, educational institutions and other societal organisations must also help in preventing people from living side by side instead of with each other, even in those urban societies that increasingly function as way stations.

Thus, the capacity of governmental policy to shape society should not be overestimated. Urban societies develop largely autonomously and many actors other than the local governments can exert their influence on that development. This relatively autonomous progression also applies to the integration of immigrants. The single greatest influence public authorities can exert on the integration process concerns issues of legal status and law enforcement. In particular, legal status is extremely important for many immigrants: having a secure right to stay is a prerequisite for successful integration. This is, however, primarily a matter for the national government. Cities have very little to say about the legal status of immigrants, no more than they get to specify which newcomers settle into their borders. The scope of local governments is somewhat greater in the social-economic arena, but is limited here as well. In our economy it is the market that determines what happens; cities may steer market processes in the economy, but to a limited extent only. The cities, however, do have a specific responsibility, ever increasing due to decentralisation, for the social wellbeing of their citizens. Finally, the role of the government in liberal-democratic societies such as ours is limited when it comes to the cultural arena. Especially in the bigger cities, local governments are being confronted with a multitude of cultures and religions. Their duty then appears to be, above all, to guarantee the peaceful co-existence of people of all cultures, and to resolve or deescalate any conflicts that arise. In addition, the importance of the local government setting an example when it comes to promoting equal opportunities for all its citizens and to actively combating discrimination should not be underestimated (Collett and Gidley 2012).

If this comparison of Amsterdam and Rotterdam has accomplished anything, it is surely the understanding that it makes little sense to focus exclusively on the course and the management, direct or indirect, of integration processes as long as one fails to involve the context within which the processes are taking place. The two cities certainly differ in the impact that immigration has had on their social, economic, cultural and political fabrics. Yet, both cities clearly show that immigration and its consequences exert such a powerful influence on urban development in general that it becomes impossible to look at them independently from each other. In other words: good integration policy is really nothing more and nothing less than good urban policy.

#### **References**


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## **Chapter 10 The 'Integration' of People of Dutch Descent in Superdiverse Neighbourhoods**

**Maurice Crul and Frans Lelie**

#### **10.1 Introduction**

In the past 40 years, researchers into migration and integration have focussed almost exclusively on migrants and their children. This one-sided focus has persisted, even though it is generally acknowledged that integration is a two-way process in which not only migrants, but also the established population play an important role (see, for example, Garces-Mascareňas and Penninx 2016; Martinovic 2013). Amsterdam and Rotterdam have both become majority-minority cities where now all ethnic population groups – including that of Dutch descent – form a numerical minority. This new reality makes it even more urgent to examine the group without a migration background. In cities like Amsterdam and Rotterdam, only one out of three young people under the age of 15 are of Dutch descent (Crul 2016). The transformation of the former majority group to a numerical minority group may well be one of the most significant urban transformations of our time. The current backlash against migrants and refugees has made it clear that the integration of people of Dutch descent into today's superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods and cities is a topic that begs attention.

All kinds of commonly used integration indicators show alarming outcomes for people of Dutch descent. In the political domain, there has been a sharp increase in support for anti-immigration parties, an indication of dissatisfaction with the increase in diversity. When it comes to social cohesion, we see that many people of Dutch descent are retreating into 'white' enclaves, for example, sending their children to schools outside their own neighbourhoods to avoid sending them to schools with a high concentration of migrant children ('white flight'). When we look at social contacts we see that people of Dutch descent form the group in a city *with the least social contact* with people from outside their own ethnic group

M. Crul (\*) · F. Lelie

Free University Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: m.r.j.crul@vu.nl

(Crul et al. 2012). If Dutch cities are compared, Amsterdam is often regarded as the example of a city where diversity is embraced by the majority of its population, while Rotterdam, on the other hand, is described as a more reluctant superdiverse city. Our research for this chapter confirms that people of Dutch descent in Rotterdam draw sharper boundaries between themselves and people of other ethnic backgrounds than their peers in Amsterdam do. The presented research, based on a local survey among people of Dutch descent living in superdiverse neighbourhoods, shows that these people in Rotterdam experience diversity more often as threatening. Why is it that in Rotterdam they perceive diversity more often as threatening than people of Dutch descent in Amsterdam? What are the underlying mechanism? It is striking that the contrast between Rotterdam and Amsterdam is particularly evident among people employed in the middle echelons of the labour market. What is causing this difference? In both cities, we see that people employed in the creative sector and those working in law enforcement occupations such as the police, army and security services are characterized by a stabile attitude towards ethnic diversity. The cities' general climate seems to exert a greater influence – both positively and negatively – on people working in administrative, technical, financial and social professions, as this is where we find less stable attitudes towards diversity.

#### **10.2 Theoretical Framework: Integration Matrix for Superdiverse Majority-Minority Neighbourhoods**

Steve Vertovec introduced the concept of superdiversity in his famous article *Superdiversity and its implications* (Vertovec 2007). Vertovec used this concept to try to capture a new reality emerging in large cities where a multiplicity of ethnic and religious groups, different age groups and socio-economic groups live alongside each other at neighbourhood level. He does not, however, provide a clear definition of what constitutes a superdiverse city or neighbourhood. It is important to us to provide a more precise definition of what we actually mean when we talk about a superdiverse neighbourhood and when it would be better to use a different label, such as a segregated neighbourhood or a neighbourhood with a certain degree of ethnic or socio-economic diversity (Crul et al. 2013; Crul 2016). We think that the label superdiversity is particularly valuable for describing neighbourhoods in which there is *no longer a numerical ethnic majority group*. In short, neighbourhoods in which all groups numerically are minority groups. In concrete terms, this means a neighbourhood where half or more of the inhabitants are not of Dutch descent. It is also useful to use this term if there is a substantial number of minority groups and not just two or three groups living in 'ethnic enclaves'. This is actually the case in most majority-minority neighbourhoods in Dutch cities. Even in Slotervaart, de Baarsjes and Bos en Lommer – three neighbourhoods in Amsterdam that are perceived as being dominated by people of Moroccan and Turkish descent respectively – these population groups do not form a majority by a long chalk. In Slotervaart only 18% of the population is of Moroccan descent, while in de Baarsjes and Bos en Lommer, 19% of the population is of Turkish descent (Wonderen and Broekhuizen 2012a, b).

In superdiverse situations (in the sense of the word as we use it) the integration process is, understandably, different than in traditional assimilation or integration situations. Migrants and their children no longer integrate solely into the majority group, but into an amalgam of groups. People of Dutch descent also have to integrate into a superdiverse context in which they are no longer the dominant ethnic group: at least not in numerical terms. Traditional assimilation theories are based on the idea that the differences between groups will diminish over time, resulting in what Richard Alba (2009) described as the 'blurring of ethnic boundaries' and the 'opening of the mainstream to new groups'. Increasing support for anti-immigrant parties, however, shows that another scenario is also possible: one in which the former majority group draws increasingly sharp boundaries between their own group and other ethnic minority groups. The people doing so feel threatened by the increasing diversity in the cities (for comparable studies, see analyses in the United States: Craig and Richeson 2014; Danbold and Huo 2015). This could trigger a negative dynamic that would cause integration to stagnate. If the former majority group avoids contact, it may be more difficult for new groups to integrate. This could result in groups growing further and further apart instead of ethnic boundaries blurring over time as predicted by traditional assimilation theories.

Much research into ethnically diverse neighbourhoods shows that inhabitants without a migration history often have little or no contact with inhabitants in their neighbourhoods who do have a migration history (Beckhoven and Kempen 2003; Blokland and Van Dijk 2010; Butler 2003; Butler and Robson 2001; Jackson and Benson 2014; May 1996; Tach 2009). Proximity does not, therefore, automatically lead to more contact, more mixed networks, or – something even more ambitious – the transfer of social or cultural capital. These outcomes often lead researchers to the conclusion that mixed neighbourhoods do not contribute to social cohesion and integration. Some authors even stress the negative consequences of living together in mixed neighbourhoods. Competition arises when scarce neighbourhood facilities are being claimed and the dominant socio-economic group determines what is and is not the norm in the public space. Situations in which people have not made an active choice to live alongside people from diverse ethnic backgrounds and residents have to share important facilities such as a staircase, lift or courtyard garden may lead to conflicts and the sharpening of ethnic divides (Tersteeg and Pinkster 2016).

However, for our comparison, it is also important to look at explanations for why there is a group that does perceive living together in mixed neighbourhoods as an enriching experience. This does not necessarily have to fit within a scenario of increasingly blurred ethnic dividing lines, as it is also possible for people to live alongside each other contentedly without any or little personal contact. In her study of the London majority-minority district of Hackney, Wessendorf (2014) talks about commonplace diversity, whereby people consider diversity as a given fact or the norm in their everyday contacts (also see Schneider and Lang 2014). This does not, however, mean that they maintain personal contact across ethnic dividing lines. In his ethnographical study of his own neighbourhood in Antwerp, Blommaert (2013) uses the term conviviality for a kind of live-and-let-live attitude among residents of superdiverse neighbourhoods. Blokland and Nast (2014) describe this as occupying the space somewhere between the myth of the urban village (Gans 1962) on the one hand, and Simmel's (1903) anonymous city on the other hand.

Wise and Noble (2016) stress that the term conviviality should be used to both study potential positive as well as possible negative effects of living together, and, also, the simultaneity of both. They argue that in order to study the complexity of living together we also need to look at the ambivalent. Blokland and Nast (2014) introduced the idea of *comfort zones* in which people know what they can expect from interactions in neighbourhood situations without adopting other people's behaviour or even approving of it. If interactions fit within the routine (public familiarity) that characterizes a neighbourhood, they promote a feeling of familiarity, predictability, control and safety. Blokland and Nast (idem) emphasize the importance of fleeting encounters in the neighbourhood for making residents feel comfortable, safe and at home. They have described this as an undervalued aspect in the discussion on mixed neighbourhoods.

The most important theoretical notion that we take from the literature referred to in this article is the idea of ambivalence and the acknowledgment to both positive and negative effects of living together. One important element in this ambivalence that we will look at is the observable gap between people's attitudes towards diversity on the one hand and their practises on the other. People may, for instance, regard living together in an ethnically mixed neighborhood as enriching, but in practice not have an interethnic friendship group. Based on these observations we have drawn up a super-diversity matrix in which four outcomes are possible: (A) little interethnic contact and sees diversity as a threat; (B) much interethnic contact but sees diversity as a threat. (C) much interethnic contact and sees diversity as enriching; (D) little interethnic contact but sees diversity as enriching.

On the basis of some of the literature cited above (Beckhoven and Kempen 2003; Blokland and Van Dijk 2010; Butler 2003; Jackson and Benson 2014; May 1996; Tach 2009), we may expect to find a lot of people of Dutch descent who have little contact outside their own ethnic group in the typology. Some of them will nevertheless see diversity as enriching, while others will perceive it as a threat.

#### **10.3 Starting Point: Differences Between Rotterdam and Amsterdam**

The starting point for the empirical part of this book chapter are people of Dutch descent living in Rotterdam. In the most recent local elections, the anti-immigrant party *Leefbaar Rotterdam* received 28% of the votes, while in the general election of 2017, the PVV received 16% of the votes. More than one in three of eligible voters of Dutch descent voted for *Leefbaar Rotterdam.* At the very least, this seems to

express a degree of uneasiness among people of Dutch descent living in Rotterdam concerning the theme of diversity in the city. In contrast to Rotterdam, *Leefbaar Amsterdam* just 7% of the voters cast in the 2017 general election voted for Geert Wilders' PVV. The stark contrast between these cities demonstrates the different political reactions to increasing diversity. This fact is our starting point for the comparison in this book chapter. How can the differences between these cities be explained and what do they mean for the atmosphere and political climate in the city and contact between different ethnic groups?

There are major differences regarding the way in which people of Dutch descent either embrace or reject increasing diversity in their living and work environment in each neighbourhood and city. In this chapter, we will examine why some people of Dutch descent feel threatened in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods, while other people from the same group perceive diversity as enriching.

#### **10.4 Methodological Approach: TIES Data**

For the empirical part of this chapter we used data from the TIES study. TIES stands for 'The Integration of the European Second generation'. During the TIES survey in 2008, research was conducted in 15 cities in 8 countries, involving almost 10,000 respondents between the ages of 18 and 35. In each city, 250 respondents from each target group were interviewed. In the Netherlands, the interviews were conducted in Amsterdam and Rotterdam. The Municipal Records Database (for the sample frame, see Groenewold 2008) was used to obtain the samples. As indicated by the project's acronym, second-generation respondents were the main focus of the research, with the respondents of Dutch descent functioning as a control group. Using the data from the Municipal Records Database, we approached secondgeneration respondents in proportion to their distribution across neighbourhoods in Amsterdam and Rotterdam. The respondents of Dutch descent were approached in the same neighbourhoods in the same proportion. This means that the neighbourhoods in which the respondents of Dutch descent were interviewed are predominantly majority-minority neighbourhoods because these are the neighbourhoods where the young people of the second generation live. Both Rotterdam and Amsterdam are majority-minority cities at the level of the entire city, so the fact that the young people of the second generation live in majority-minority neighbourhoods is not remarkable. Out of the total TIES sample, 79% of the people of Dutch descent who were interviewed lived in such a majority-minority neighbourhood. Only these respondents (381) were selected for the analysis for this chapter.

The majority-minority neighbourhoods where we selected respondents are, without exception, neighbourhoods in which despite their over-representation, the Turkish-Dutch and Moroccan- Dutch inhabitants are just one of the many minority groups. Nowhere did the individual share of Turkish-Dutch and Moroccan-Dutch residents exceed 20% of the inhabitants. These neighbourhoods can be characterized as neighbourhoods with a great diversity of different ethnic groups. The majority-minority neighbourhoods from which we sampled our respondents for the TIES survey therefore fit within the definition of superdiverse neighbourhoods that we gave earlier.

We use the TIES survey, even when it is already 10 years old, because it is the only available survey in which people of native Dutch descent were asked about integration and diversity in a majority-minority neighbourhood context. The TIES survey contained a great number of questions about their experience of and opinions on integration and diversity, as well as how they actually behave in practice. like the school choice for their children or where they spend leisure time.

#### **10.5 The Super-Diversity Matrix: Practice and Opinions**

On the basis of the answers from the TIES survey, we first analysed how the inhabitants of Dutch descent in majority-minority neighbourhoods are distributed across the four quadrants of the super-diversity matrix in Fig. 10.1. In Table 10.1, we did this by combining the respondents in Amsterdam and Rotterdam. We are of course restricted by the questions that were asked in the survey. We used one question about the number of friends with a different ethnic origin and one opinion question about how they perceive living in a culturally diverse city. More precisely, we can combine the degree of contact outside their own ethnic group and the degree to which they perceive cultural diversity in their city as either enriching or threatening.

**Fig. 10.1** Super-diversity Matrix: four possible types of reactions from people of Dutch descent in super-diverse majority-minority neighbourhoods


**Table 10.1** Distribution on the basis of interethnic friendships and opinions on diversity in the city among respondents of Dutch descent aged between 18 and 35 in majority-minority neighbourhoods in Amsterdam and Rotterdam

The actual questions asked by the survey are: "Do you experience living in the city with people from different cultures as threatening or enriching?" and "How many of your friends are of another ethnic origin than yourself?"

For both questions, we used a five-point scale that we reduced to three answer options by combining the two most extreme answers on each side. The outcomes confirmed what we had already cited from the literature: most people of Dutch descent living in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods have little or no interethnic friendships. The quadrant on the bottom right contains the most respondents: people who have little or no interethnic friendships but who perceive diversity as enriching. This was followed by people who fall in-between the two bottom quadrants. They have little or no interethnic friendships and say that the diversity in their city does not make any difference to them. There we see some of the ambivalence on this issue.

The degree of interethnic friendships is not statistically correlated to opinions on diversity in the city: in other words, having more interethnic friends does not lead to different opinions on diversity. Below we show the superdiversity matrix for both cities separately. Although there are considerable differences between the cities, almost all of the respondents in both cities are on the axis of little or no interethnic friendships. Amsterdam, however, has almost twice as many people in the 'diversity is enriching' quadrant on the bottom right as Rotterdam. Conversely, Rotterdam has twice as many people in the 'diversity is a threat' quadrant. There are relatively more people in Amsterdam who have many interethnic friends and say that diversity makes no difference to them (Tables 10.2a and 10.2b).

In Amsterdam there is a moderately significant correlation (p < 0.1) between the degree of having interethnic friends and the extent to which respondents see diversity as being enriching. There is no significant correlation in Rotterdam. In the next two paragraphs we will examine contacts and opinions separately.

#### **10.6 Diversity: Practice**

In this paragraph we will take a closer look at practices in terms of the number of interethnic friendships. We will first show the share of interethnic friends for people of Dutch descent in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods in both cities.


**Table 10.2a** Distribution on the basis of interethnic friendships and opinions on diversity in the city among respondents of Dutch descent aged between 18 and 35 in majority-minority neighbourhoods in Amsterdam

**Table 10.2b** Distribution on the basis of interethnic friendships and opinions on diversity in the city among respondents of Dutch descent aged between 18 and 35 in majority-minority neighbourhoods in Rotterdam


Source: TIES Survey Netherlands 2008

In both cities we see approximately the same pattern. Almost three-quarters of the respondents of Dutch descent in these neighbourhoods only has friends who are also of Dutch descent. The respondents in Amsterdam have a slightly more mixed circle of friends (p < 0.05) than those in Rotterdam (Table 10.3a).

If we compare these outcomes to those of the Turkish and Moroccan second generation in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods, we see that they have a mixed circle of friends much more often. Just one in five has no friends from a different ethnic background. A quarter of them has a predominantly mixed circle of friends (Table 10.3b).

Although all three ethnic groups live in the same neighbourhoods, the young people of Turkish and Moroccan descent have friends from a different ethnic background much more often. The ethnic group to which they belong may be two to three times smaller than the group of Dutch descent in their neighbourhood because there are so many different ethnic groups, but we still see that in proportion the second generation has a mixed group of friends much more often.

These questions referred to the respondents' circle of friend. The TIES survey also posed a question about the respondents' three best friends and their ethnic origin. When we look at the ethnic background of the three best friends, we see, not surprisingly, the same pattern as with the question about their wider circle of friends. Out of the 699 three best friends of people of Dutch descent in Rotterdam, only 113 (16%) were of non-Dutch descent, including 22 people (3%) of Turkish or Moroccan descent. The outcomes were very similar in Amsterdam. Out of 738 best friends, 125 (17%) were of non-Dutch descent, including 28 people (4%) of Turkish or Moroccan descent. The respondents of Dutch descent we are referring to live in


**Table 10.3a** People of Dutch descent in the TIES survey. Friends from a different ethnic background

**Table 10.3b** People of Turkish and Moroccan descent in the TIES survey. Friends from a different ethnic background


Source: TIES Survey Netherlands 2008

neighbourhoods where at least 50% of their neighbours are of non-Dutch descent and where a significant part of the inhabitants in their own age group are of Turkish or Moroccan descent.

When asked whether they would send their children to a school where half the pupils had a migrant background (actually a reflection of the neighbourhood they live in), 62% of the respondents of Dutch descent in both Rotterdam and Amsterdam said that they would *not* do so. The figures for the Turkish and Moroccan secondgeneration respondents were the exact opposite of those of the respondents of Dutch descent. Approximately two-thirds said that they would send their children to a ethnically mixed school. School choice, of course, entails a multi-layered choice process, that includes issues as diverse as choices regarding pedagogies, distance to the school and social class. In the survey question the only reference made was to ethnic composition. Since these respondents lived in ethnically diverse neighbourhoods, *not* sending their children to a school with a majority of pupils of migrant descent probably meant enrolling them in a school outside the neighbourhood, which is generally inconvenient. When asked whether they would socialize in places that are popular with people of non-Dutch descent, 69% of the respondents in Rotterdam and 62% of the respondents in Amsterdam said that they would not do so.

#### **10.7 Diversity: Opinions**

In contrast to the degree of interethnic contact, which was very similar in both Rotterdam and Amsterdam, we observed major differences between the cities when we turned our attention to opinions. The difference was extremely significant (p < 0.001) (Table 10.4).


**Table 10.4** People of Dutch descent aged between 18 and 35. Question: Do you experience living with people from different cultures in the city as threatening or enriching?"

In Amsterdam twice as many respondents in majority-minority neighbourhoods perceived the cultural diversity in their city as enriching as in Rotterdam. More than twice as many respondents in Rotterdam saw diversity in the city as threatening or quite threatening. The respondents who experienced diversity as a threat also had significantly more negative scores to other questions on their opinions regarding diversity. Not unsurprisingly, they said significantly more often that they have 'colder' feelings towards Muslims, Turks and Moroccans. They also thought significantly more often that people of non-Dutch descent should adapt to Dutch norms and values in public spaces and that more attention should be paid to the Dutch language. They were significantly less likely to think that special measures should be taken to combat discrimination. These opinions were also expressed when asked about practices. They said significantly more often that they did *not* want their children to go to a school with a majority of migrant children and indicated significantly more often that they preferred *not* to go out to places frequented by a majority of people with a migrant background. The question about cultural diversity in the city is therefore representative of a much more comprehensive body of negative ideas regarding diversity and interactions with people of non-Dutch descent.

In summary: although there are few differences between the cities when it comes to the interethnic contact though friends, there are considerable differences between Rotterdam and Amsterdam regarding the opinions on diversity held by the respondents of Dutch descent living in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods. It is therefore more about a difference in their 'taste for diversity', than striking differences in behaviour. The pattern in Amsterdam corresponds to the patterns that Wessendorf (2014) found in her research on the London district of Hackney. She describes how there was a positive appreciation of diversity in everyday situations, without this being expressed in people's choice of close friends and acquaintances.

#### **10.8 Explanation of the Differences Between People of Dutch Descent in Superdiverse Majority-Minority Neighbourhoods in Amsterdam and Rotterdam**

One of the reasons that have often been put forward to explain the large differences between Rotterdam and Amsterdam regarding opinions about diversity is the difference in the socio-economic composition of the two cities. One is a harbour city with a large low-educated population of Dutch descent, while the other has a major financial sector and large number of highly-educated professionals of Dutch descent. The argument goes that as people living in Amsterdam have a stronger economic position, they have less to fear from the consequences of migration and globalization (Entzinger and Scheffer 2012). It is true that in Amsterdam there are more people of Dutch descent working in jobs that require a higher level of education in comparison with Rotterdam and that there is a larger group of people of Dutch descent with lower levels of education in Rotterdam (idem). This may indeed contribute to the different outcomes at city level. However, for this chapter, we are looking at outcomes at the neighbourhood level. The TIES survey was conducted in the same type of neighbourhood in both cities and in both cities we only selected people of Dutch descent living in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods. For this reason, we did not find any significant differences in professional status between the respondents of Dutch descent in these neighbourhoods in Rotterdam and Amsterdam.

Another explanation that is often put forward is the precarious position that people of Dutch descent may occupy in the labour market and accompanying fear of competition and job loss. This also cannot explain the difference: in Rotterdam 28% of this group had a temporary contract, while this figure in Amsterdam was 30%.

As these oft-mentioned socio-economic explanations for the differences in reactions between respondents in Rotterdam and Amsterdam did not show any statistical effect, we then set out to see what other possible differences in background characteristics we could find to explain the contrast between the two cities. One of the other explanations put forward in the literature is Florida's (2005) theory about the creative class, which is supposedly more tolerant of ethnic diversity. This assumption prompted us to look at occupational groups in the TIES survey and their opinions on diversity. People who did skilled or unskilled manual labour in both cities had the same opinions on cultural diversity. The group performing unskilled or skilled manual labour is the *most negative* about cultural diversity out of all occupational groups in the TIES survey. The group that perceived diversity as a threat was the same size in both cities. We found no significant differences. As this group is larger in the entire city of Rotterdam, this goes part of the way towards explaining the difference in voting behaviour at city level between Amsterdam and Rotterdam. However, there is no difference between the size of this group in both cities in the TIES survey, as the samples were taken in neighbourhoods where many people have a migration background (18% in Amsterdam versus 20% in Rotterdam). We also found *no* differences between Rotterdam and Amsterdam when we looked at the opinions held by the group of self-employed persons in the TIES survey.

We then went on to look at the respondents from the various occupations included in the 'creative class'. We used the broad definition of the creative class as used by Reijndorp (2004): artists, designers, researchers at universities, consultants and advisors. The creative class was indeed the most distinctly positive about cultural diversity. The idea that the 'creative class*'* is more open was confirmed by our analyses. In his concept of the *'*creative class' Florida (2005) only looks at the group that promotes openness and toleration, but he does not examine the group that may have a negative influence on this climate. These are the people who propagate a climate of intolerance and exclusion and who may also have a negative effect on contact between groups in daily practice due to their attitude and opinions. In our research it appears that these respondents often work for the army, police or security firms: enforcement or supervisory occupations. In addition to people in these occupations, we also found that a relatively high number of people in white-collar jobs, such as administrative occupations, health care and the social sector, also perceive diversity in the city as a threat. The only large and significant differences in opinion that we could find between the two cities were those held by people in white-collar jobs. This group in Rotterdam expressed negative opinions on diversity much more often than the same group in Amsterdam. We first checked a number of control variables to see whether we could find any differences between these groups. However, we found no significant differences between the two groups in the different age cohorts (18–24; 25–35) and there were no differences between men and women that could have explained the difference between the two cities.

In Table 10.5 we show the outcomes for the different occupational groups. Once more we have combined the two most extreme categories as there were not many people in some occupation categories.

Approximately half of the people working in education, health care or the social sector, or in mid-management jobs in the technical or financial sector think that cultural diversity is enriching. But in contrast to the people in the creative sector or higher management positions, there is also a substantial group (approximately 1 in 5) that perceives cultural diversity as a threat. The group with negative opinions regarding cultural diversity was slightly larger among those occupying mid-management administrative positions.

When we now look at the differences between the two cities, we see a strong similarity between the two groups at the opposite ends of the spectrum. In other words, people in creative occupations in Rotterdam did not say that they saw cul-


**Table 10.5** People of Dutch descent in majority-minority neighbourhoods in Amsterdam and Rotterdam in middle and senior management jobs in the TIES survey, broken down by occupational groups and the question of whether they perceive the cultural diversity in their city as threatening or enriching

Source: TIES survey Netherlands 2008

tural diversity as a threat more often because they live in Rotterdam. They are not influenced by the more negative atmosphere surrounding diversity in their city. Conversely, people working in enforcement occupations in Amsterdam were not influenced by the more positive atmosphere surrounding cultural diversity in that city. These groups appear to be extremely stable in their opinion on cultural diversity, independent of the context in which they live.

The groups occupying mid-management positions in the other sectors were less stable. There are substantial differences between Amsterdam and Rotterdam in all three groups in the mid- management segment. In Rotterdam we found four times as many people in the social, health care or education sectors who saw diversity as a threat as in Amsterdam. In the other two sectors, this was three times as often. On the opposite side of the spectrum – people who perceive diversity as enriching – there are also considerable differences between the two cities (Table 10.6).

The survey did not contain a very large number of respondents in these three occupational categories, so some caution about the results is in place. We therefore conducted further analyses, shown below, by looking at people in white-collar jobs in these three occupational groups together. There is a substantial difference between the opinions of people in these white-collar jobs in Rotterdam and Amsterdam. In Amsterdam almost *six times* as many people saw cultural diversity in their city as enriching as in Rotterdam. This is a significant difference (p < 0.01) (Table 10.7).


**Table 10.6** People of Dutch descent in white-collar occupations in three occupational groups, broken down by Amsterdam and Rotterdam and the question of whether they perceive the cultural diversity in their city as threatening or enriching

Source: TIES survey Netherlands 2008

**Table 10.7** People of Dutch descent in white-collar occupations, broken down by city, (Amsterdam and Rotterdam) and the question of whether they perceive the cultural diversity in their city as threatening or enriching


Source: TIES survey Netherlands 2008

This raises the question of what makes these white-collar groups in Rotterdam so different to their peers in Amsterdam. Once more, the explanation does not lie in socio-economics. The respondents in Rotterdam, for example, had a permanent employment contract even more often than those in Amsterdam. We also found no difference in the type or size of company they were working for. There was also no difference in family background characteristics. In both cities, this group of respondents had attained a higher socio-economic position than their parents. There were no differences with regard to the number of people who had been given a religious upbringing (one third) and the number that still identify themselves as being religious (one in five). The neighbourhoods where they live also do not differ in terms of the proportion of people *with* and *without* a migration background. The people in the middle groups in Rotterdam stated significantly more often (p < 0.1) that they would like to live in a less diverse neighbourhood. This indicates that they reject the degree of diversity in their neighbourhood.

As there are no differences with regard to socio-economic position or neighbourhood composition, it appears that we must look to the difference in climate between the two cities to explain the contrast. The more negative climate with regard to diversity in Rotterdam seems to be pulling the less stable middle level group towards a negative opinion while the more positive climate in Amsterdam seems to be pulling the middle group in a more positive direction.

#### **10.9 Conclusion and Debate**

Very little research has been conducted on people of Dutch descent living in superdiverse majority-minority neighbourhoods. How do they integrate into superdiverse neighbourhoods in which they form a numerical minority? On the basis of our analysis of the TIES survey data, occupational characteristics go some way towards explaining the extent to which people of Dutch descent in superdiverse majorityminority neighbourhoods perceive living alongside people from a different ethnic and cultural background as enriching. People who work in occupations characterized by the creation of new ideas, adaptation and innovation seem to perceive cultural diversity in the city as enriching. People whose job involves supervising or controlling people appear inclined to see cultural diversity more as a threat. As the group of people in creative occupations is larger in Amsterdam than in Rotterdam, this has an important effect on the climate in this city.

The occupational groups found at the extremes of this spectrum are the most context-independent. Their opinions regarding cultural diversity remain intact, almost independently of whether the general climate is one of tolerance or intolerance. Some occupational groups, however, *are* influenced by the context. In groups where ideas on the added value of diversity are less strongly entrenched, the urban climate may influence the direction in which their opinions shift. In a more open and tolerant climate, this group may move towards greater openness, while in a more

negative climate, they will express themselves more negatively. This suggests that the opinions regarding diversity held by an important middle group can be influenced by the environment in which they live. It is possible that this negative process is being reinforced in Rotterdam as an increasing number of people express negative opinions about diversity, both in their daily interactions and the local public debate. This may make people feel less inhibited about holding and expressing such opinions. It is possible to use qualitative research to examine this hypothesis in more depth. The most important provisional conclusion of this chapter is that it is possible to specify occupational groups whose opinions on diversity are more dependent upon the urban context. This is a crucial insight for our study of how opinions on cultural diversity are formed and how they may also change. This also provides an opportunity for policymakers to aim policies at people from these occupational groups or to develop interventions aimed at groups who are receptive to changing their opinions.

There are, however, two other types of explanations that can be studied in more depth by subsequent research. One important factor influencing the differences we found between Amsterdam and Rotterdam may be that it is more difficult for people living in Rotterdam to move to suburbs where there is less ethnic diversity than in the city. The conflicts in neighbourhoods on the periphery of Amsterdam (IJburg) or the high number of votes for the PVV in suburbs (Almere), show that some people of Dutch descent want to escape the diversity of the city by moving. Many people living in the old neighbourhoods near the centre of Amsterdam have chosen to live in or move to a superdiverse neighbourhood. They either have no problem with cultural diversity or see it as enriching. The other explanation that requires more research is the influence of the immediate living environment. A living environment that requires relatively little contact between neighbours and has a low risk of nuisance due to its architecture may make it easier for people with different lifestyles and household composition to live alongside each other (see Crul and Steinmetz forth coming). There may also be differences between the two cities in this regard.

The analysis of the TIES data reveals that even people of Dutch descent who perceive diversity as enriching, hardly ever have a mixed circle of friends. A great deal of research focuses on interethnic contact and concludes that integration has failed if this is not present. Blokland and Nast (2014) show in their research in Berlin that it may be necessary to re-evaluate this point of view. Superficial contacts in the public space can also lay a foundation for feeling comfortable in a neighbourhood. This may be enough to prevent any minor irritations from escalating or even developing into conflicts between ethnic groups. If a part of the population in a neighbourhood is open to superficial contacts, this may have a positive influence on the neighbourhood's atmosphere as a whole. If contact is made primarily, or even exclusively, on an involuntary basis, as the result of nuisance or conflict, there is a higher risk of tensions arising, especially if the basic attitude is one of rejecting diversity. Further research must show if there are also differences between the two cities in this regard.

#### **References**


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## **Chapter 11 Superdiversity and City Branding: Rotterdam in Perspective**

**Warda Belabas and Jasper Eshuis**

#### **11.1 Introduction**

As many other cities around the world, Rotterdam has been investing in improving its image to stimulate urban development and to attract visitors, residents and investors. In particular, during the last 15 years the municipality of Rotterdam has intensified its attempts to develop a 'brand' that fits the 'new Rotterdam', which was gradually rebuilt after destructive bombardments during the Second World War (Riezebos 2014). In 2014 Rotterdam was ranked 8th by 'Rough Guide' in the list of 'Top 10 Cities to See', whereas the 'New York Times' listed Rotterdam in the top 10 of 52 Places to Go. These rankings demonstrate Rotterdam's success in repositioning itself, using the physical interior of the city as a key element in its branding strategy.

The international attention that Rotterdam receives contributes to policy aims that often underlie city branding activities, such as the increase of the city's visibility and its economic development. While branding efforts of local governments should be understood in the context of an interurban competition in which cities try hard to "sell" themselves (Kearns and Paddison 2000: 845), city brands are not only used to create images for external audiences such as potential investors and tourists. Brands can also be used internally by municipalities as guidelines that direct urban development, in which case the brand comes to play a role in developing and constructing a certain *place identity* (Eshuis and Klijn 2017; Greenberg 2010; Kavaratzis 2008). As Mommaas (2002: p.34) puts it brands are an important source for "identification, continuity and collectivity". Such identity building is especially relevant

W. Belabas (\*)

J. Eshuis

Public Administration, Erasmus University of Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: belabas@essb.eur.nl

Department of Public Administration and Sociology, Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands

in the context of ongoing global migration, which has completely transformed urban life and created highly diverse cities where at least parts of the population experience challenges in terms of defining a common identity or shared sense of belonging. Some scholars speak of 'superdiverse' or 'hyperdiverse' cities, as a way of expressing this diversification of city populations (Vertovec 2007; Tasan-Kok et al. 2014).

City branding has been hypothesized to be a key strategy for defining a new shared sense of belonging that can bond citizens to the city (Zapata-Barrero 2015; Wood and Landry 2010; Cantle 2012). Brands have the potential to create a social inclusive vision or a common sense of belonging that members of both majority and minority communities can relate to. Well-known branding campaigns such as 'I love New York', 'I Amsterdam' and 'London City of the World' all demonstrate policy attempts to create such an inclusive image of the city. If we take the example of London, we see how the city has attempted to portray diversity as one of its great historical social, economic and cultural strengths (The London Plan 2004). The 'We are Londoners, we are one'-campaign, which was initiated shortly after the terrorist bombings in 2007, illustrates the city's efforts to create an inclusive image of the city that transcends national, religious and ethnic boundaries. In the case of London, one could thus argue that branding has been used as a governance tool to create an *alternative* "to more exclusionary senses of community and citizenship that are based on national, ethnic or religious identity" (Muller 2011: p. 2). Other cities on the other hand, seem to struggle even more with the reality of superdiversity – let alone that they use it actively in their brand strategy. This relates to the struggles and problems that superdiverse cities encounter, for example highly polarized debates on race, ethnicity and migration, which makes the incorporation of diversity as a core element of the city brand more difficult as we will show in the remainder of this chapter.

This chapter focuses on the question if and how the city of Rotterdam refers to (super) diversity in its branding strategy. Rotterdam is a city that is known for its 'sleeves-rolled up' and 'no-nonsense' mentality, but also for the populist antiimmigrant voices that have actually managed to reach local governing in recent years. While taking in account Rotterdam's branding history and its political context – we aim to unravel if and how the 'Rotterdam Brand' reflects the many cultures, ethnicities, nationalities and religions that the city houses. Reconstructing the branding policies and the role that diversity plays in it hence enables us to reflect on the potential of brands in creating a shared urban belonging, which – in the face of the reality of super diversity – deems more necessary than ever. Studying this subject is not only relevant to Rotterdam, but also to many other cities in the world with dramatically changed ethnic and cultural landscapes. To enrich this study, we also compare the case of Rotterdam with the city of London.

This chapter thus results from a qualitative case study on the branding of Rotterdam, complemented with a brief exploration of the branding of London. The case of Rotterdam was studied through six semi-structured interviews with public officials involved in branding or diversity policies, analysis of branding materials, and a document analysis including relevant policy documents, websites, and expert

reports on the branding of Rotterdam. The branding of London was explored less extensively, by studying documents (official websites, articles from news media regarding the London brand) and – limited – academic publications on London's branding and marketing strategy.

#### **11.2 Theoretical Background**

#### *11.2.1 Defining Place Branding*

Place branding is about the use of brands to influence perceptions about places, by highlighting specific functional, symbolic and experiential aspects (cf. Kavaratzis 2008; Kotler and Gertner 2002). Place brands can be defined as symbolic constructs that consist of a name, term, sign, symbol, or design, or a combination of these, intended to identify the city and differentiate it from other places by adding particular meaning to the place (Eshuis and Klijn 2017). Place brands are used to create a specific image of a place, by evoking particular associations with the place. For example, the brand of the city of New York may evoke associations such as 'financial centre' or 'vibrant'.

Place brands are communicated through so called brand communication (e.g. Braun et al. 2014), with the aid of a variety of so called brand *elements* and brand *carriers*. Place brand elements are for example names, wordmarks, logos, slogans, and brand images, but also brand sounds such as jingles. Place brands carriers may be celebrities, leaders, buildings or organizations. Particularly important place brand carriers are events, because they not only provide opportunities to communicate the brand but also to experience the place brand.

#### *11.2.2 Selectiveness of Brands*

As the definition above stresses, an important function of place brands is to position a place in a specific way, such that it distinguishes itself from competitors. Put differently, branding is an attempt to differentiate a place from competitors by coupling *specific* symbolic or experiential features to the place. This implies the creation of a specific image, instead of a general and nondescript image that does not make the place stand out. A place brand is built on a specific brand concept, which is the brand meaning selected by the brand manager derived from basic needs of the target groups, forming the substantial basis of the branding strategy (Park et al. 1986). The brand concept frames and determines the selection of values and topics for place branding (see Eshuis and Klijn 2017). Thus, brands are selective, involving emphasis of particular topics and values over others. The selection of particular topics and values becomes manifest in the discursive brand elements (slogans), visual elements (brand images), as well as in brand carriers such as events.

In essence, this means that cities *choose* which unique combination of attributes, values and symbols they will use in constructing and communicating (parts of) their identity. Making such a selection for places is much more difficult compared to products, because places – in particular cities – exist of a multitude of identities. In selecting topics and values, cities need to take in account a variety of stakeholders, purposes and expectations. As Pasquinelli (2014) stresses: "if understood as an 'umbrella' identity, the place brand involves mediation to reduce potential conflicts and negotiation that lead to brand value selection" (p. 729). The topics and values that eventually gain a permanent position in the city brand can be understood in the competitive context in which cities nowadays function; those elements and attributes of the city identity that stimulate economic development are put on display. On the other hand, place brands may play a role in creating a certain social identity. Brands thus form a tool in pursuing economic ambitions, while at the same time they could provide a means to address social problems such as social exclusion and cultural diversity (Kavaratzis 2004).

#### **11.3 Superdiversity and the Branding of Rotterdam**

#### *11.3.1 The Making of the Rotterdam Brand*

Since 2003, the municipality of Rotterdam has undertaken structural efforts to develop an attractive city brand. This was in particular the result of the municipality's awareness that the images of the city did not correspond with the developments that Rotterdam had undergone since the rebuild after the Second World War. In the perception of various target groups – such as residents, visitors, companies and (potential) students – Rotterdam was primarily considered a 'main port', which evoked negative associations of a 'cold and unsociable *work* city'. This image was not in accordance with the substantial investments and developments in and around the city, especially in terms of the innovative modern architecture, the many cultural facilities and the arsenal of meeting places in the city (Riezebos 2014; Interviews municipality Rotterdam 2015).

In rebuilding and reimagining the 'Rotterdam Brand', the municipality initiated the first official branding campaign 'Rotterdam Dares', in which 'the no-nonsense' and 'sleeves-rolled up' mentality was emphasized and was considered to be distinguishing for Rotterdam. Rotterdam always has been known for its hard-working culture and its daring approaches (Noordegraaf and Vermeulen 2010). The reconstruction of the city centre after the Second World War as well as the restructuring of diverse other communities at the time of the "social renewal"-operation are often used to illustrate this hard-working mentality. In addition politicians and administrators in Rotterdam did – and still do – not hesitate to use direct and straightforward language that concurs with this imagery, especially when it comes to combatting issues of social liveability (ibid). Rotterdam has always stressed this *part* of its identity, which to this day has been reflected in the city slogan *'Rotterdam, a young international city on the water, with a straight-forward and decisive mentality'*. The 'Rotterdam Dares' campaign aimed to stimulate and create more exposure for projects, festivals, initiatives that expressed this long tradition of hands-on and daring actions.

However, in 2006 the municipality decided to pursue the ambition of putting Rotterdam more on the map internationally. Because the 'Rotterdam Dares' campaign seemed incompatible for such an international venture, a new brand tag 'Rotterdam World Port, World City' was launched. Led by the new Chief Marketing Officer (CMO), local authorities in Rotterdam at this point underlined in particular Rotterdam's reputation as an international world port in order to further "strengthen Rotterdam's international competitiveness" (Rotterdam World City 2008b). Brand attributes such as the typical 'no-nonsense' mentality– which previously was emphasized in the brand identity – had to make way for a narrative in which Rotterdam was portrayed as a worldwide city network, which due to its favourable geographical location, connects "sea, people, rail, air and road" (ibid.). The goal underlying this branding campaign was primarily economic, namely to attract more companies and investors to the city (Interviews municipality Rotterdam 2015). The economic and 'business-orientated' image of Rotterdam that was evoked during this period was– not surprisingly – little appreciated by city residents who experienced the brand mainly as an economic proposition, with which they could not identify (ibid.). This demonstrates the difficulty of creating a brand that suits the needs, interests and values of all important stakeholders, in particular residents – who according to some authors are "often neglected in the process of building city brands" (Insch, A. In Dinnie 2011: 8).

The lack of identification of residents with an essential part of the Rotterdam brand, led the municipality to rethink it brandings policies. The many architectural achievements of Rotterdam, for which the city received more and more international attention – also fed the idea that the current branding strategy needed a rethink (Interviews municipality Rotterdam 2015). In 2013, under the name 'Rotterdam, make it happen!' a new brand alliance was formed between the municipality of Rotterdam, the Port of Rotterdam Authority, the Erasmus University and Rotterdam Partners. While the city slogan and the RWPWC-brand tag are still being used, Rotterdam's DNA has been redefined in consultation with city residents and urban partners. The former brand values 'ambition', 'change' and 'engagement' were rephrased – without entirely changing them – to 'international, worldly, groundbreaking, entrepreneurial, no-nonsense and raw' (Municipality of Rotterdam 2014). Central to the new campaigning was the idea of the city as a place where people are offered opportunities to invest, grow and succeed. Moreover, the distinctive element of Rotterdam's identity was again placed on the typical *mentality* of Rotterdam, for example expressed in the brand value "raw", which refers to the directness, straightforwardness and unpolished character of the city and its residents.

More than in the past, Rotterdam hence attempted to develop a branding strategy that is carried by all relevant stakeholder parties. In addition, the municipality is more committed to actually use the selected brand attributes more consistently and explicitly in its communication, for example in subsidy procedures that underlie event policies, in the linguistic expression of city policies, and in the behaviour of politicians and public administrators (Interviews municipality 2015). These efforts to create a more integral and consistent city brand, are also evident in the municipality's ambition to give residents, students, business owners and visitors a platform to share their stories about Rotterdam. Against the background of the history of Rotterdam's branding policies, the question arises: which role does the diverse composition of the city's population play in the narrative that is being told?

#### **11.4 Diversity and Rotterdam's DNA: Part of the Narrative?**

#### *11.4.1 Brand Identity and Diversity*

Given the reality of the many cultures, ethnicities, nationalities and religions that Rotterdam accommodates, it is relevant to study which choices the local authorities have made regarding the incorporation of this part of Rotterdam's identity. Does the city's branding strategy reflect the diverse composition of Rotterdam? In this respect, Rotterdam is one of the first Dutch cities that can be classified as 'super diverse', which refers to the fact that native-Dutch residents are losing their numeric majority position in the city (Crul 2015). While large-scale immigration has occurred since the Second World War and in particular during the 1970s, Rotterdam now is home to *more* and *new* immigrant groups, making the multi ethnic composition of the city one of its core characteristics.

The emerging attempt to build up a branding strategy that suits the 'new Rotterdam', has from the beginning defined the multicultural characteristics of the city as a key element of Rotterdam's DNA. *Naming* or *highlighting* cultural diversity as a characteristic of the city and its people – and emphasizing in particular the economic benefits – has structurally been the case in Rotterdam, even though there is some variation in the used terms and words in course of the years. During the 'Rotterdam Dares' period, for example, the multicultural capital of the city has been broadly recognized by the municipality as a distinctive *strength* of Rotterdam. City branding documents in which the identity of the city was outlined, proudly explained that *"Rotterdam has turned into a safe haven for the creative class"* and that the *"169 present nationalities make Rotterdam the biggest multicultural city of the Netherlands"* (Municipality Rotterdam 2008a). In addition, the city stressed the importance of cities to be diverse, because *"diversity stimulates creativity, which means that Rotterdam – as a multicultural giant – features a great creative potential*." (Municipality Rotterdam 2005). Similarly, the 'Rotterdam World Port City, Rotterdam World City' brand tag – builds on this narrative that emphasizes the potential assets and advantages of diverse city societies. Studying this more precisely it appears that the advantage of the presence of many ethnic, cultural, and religious minorities in Rotterdam – was especially viewed from an economic perspective: *"the wealth of cultures and ethnicities from all over the world"* fitted the clear international focus that Rotterdam was pursuing and was presented as a great *economic* asset for the city. The following quote demonstrates this perspective clearly:

*About 50% of the population has their roots in the rest of the world. The language skills, and knowledge of these international citizens, give access to overseas contact and links to foreign markets [.] Although Dutch is the official language, most of the people also speak English and often another foreign language as well* (Rotterdam World City 2008b: 9)

As this statement shows, Rotterdam's branding strategy is not isolated from other policy aims, but – as often is the case – is rather part of broader economic and social city planning. More importantly, it demonstrates the view of local authorities regarding the significance of diversity in positioning Rotterdam as an international junction. The choice to recognize, embrace and include diversity in the brand identity, is thus mainly built on the idea that diversity benefits city's economic development and innovative potential by attracting members of the 'creative class' who would be drawn to open, inclusive and diverse places" (Florida 2003, as paraphrased in Hoekstra 2015: 1800). This corresponds to the London approach (Box 11.1), in which we also illustrate how promotion of diversity was inseparably connected to ambitions regarding London's economy and increasing one's appeal to different target groups. In the case of Rotterdam, one of our respondents explained: *"Treating the (inter)cultural identity of Rotterdam – with its 174 nationalities – as an asset of the city, strengthens the appeal of the city to the export-community"* (Interview Rotterdam Partners 2015). This again illustrates how branding choices are strongly connected to the international positioning of Rotterdam – and how economic considerations underlie many of the discussions on brand choices.

More recently, with the 'Rotterdam, make it happen!' campaign, the city has continued the tradition of recognizing the heterogeneous, diverse city population as being part of Rotterdam's DNA. In line with previous years, diversity is included as one of the brand values and unique selling points. Thereby the term 'multicultural' has been replaced by terms as 'cosmopolitan' and 'international'. Here, our respondents explained that 'international' refers to the many nationalities, cultures and religions that the city houses as well as the world port function of Rotterdam and its interconnectedness with many other places around the world (Interview municipality Rotterdam 2015). Similarly, 'cosmopolitan' denotes the "somewhat 'undutch" and international outlook of the city *as well* as the level of liveliness, activity and extraordinary architecture in the city" (Riezebos 2014: 13). Somewhat different from the past, the brand values 'international' and 'cosmopolitan' comprise more characteristics of the city and are not exclusively related to cultural diversity. As we will show later on, this has to do with the political context in which brand Rotterdam is (re)developed.

#### *11.4.2 Brand Communication and Diversity*

Having noted that diversity is a key brand value which is particularly framed as an economic asset in Rotterdam's place brand, our case study also reveals that diversity is hardly translated in actual brand communication. The municipality treats diversity as a given fact without constantly naming and emphasizing it. As a result, besides the acknowledgement of diversity as a part of Rotterdam's history, identity and DNA, it has hardly been translated in actual branding *activities*. Rotterdam has not incorporated diversity structurally in tangible, concrete projects or initiatives to mark the city's local branding policies. With the exception of two attempts that deliberately aim to communicate and embrace diversity, throughout the years, diversity has not played a major role in the active brand communication of the city. The first exception concerns Rotterdam's events policies, in particular the Dunya Festival and Summer Carnival, which celebrate the cultural diversity of the city by "providing stage to music, art and cuisines from countries and cultures all over the world" (Rotterdam Unlimited 2013). However, our respondents emphasized that the idea to celebrate the city's diversity in this way was *initiated* by city residents themselves, and has gained a structural place in Rotterdam's event program. 'Diversity' in itself is not branded actively by local authorities, but has been supported as a response to local initiatives by residents for example by supporting these two festivals financially. A less explicit way in which local authorities attempt to impact the city's image, is the selective use of photos that are used in communication by the municipality and its partners. The 'Rotterdam image-database' – which is managed by Rotterdam Partners – consists of photos that individuals and companies can use for promotional purposes. The selection of photos that are entered in the database are representative in terms of the diverse backgrounds of Rotterdam's residents. As one of our respondents put it: *"It would not be logical to include photos with only "white" people, because that is not Rotterdam"* (Interview municipality Rotterdam 2015). This shows how diversity obviously plays a role in considerations and the eventual decisions regarding communication about Rotterdam. Similarly, to its policy regarding festivals, through this database the city facilitates communication of diversity, but without actually including it prominently in its own brand-communication.

#### *11.4.3 Brand Choices: Underlying Reasoning*

When addressing the question of how Rotterdam has used its superdiverse composition in its city branding, one could hence conclude that it has been a constant brand value that the municipality has acknowledged in all its campaigns throughout the years. Yet, where the municipality in the past spoke about 'the multicultural' city, more recently broader terms such as 'international' and 'cosmopolitan' have been adopted. Despite the small change in discourse, the municipality has been consistent in terms of limited brand communication related to cultural diversity. Thus diversity has been integrated in the city's branding strategy at a very limited level. The municipality's choice *not to* actively use the diverse composition of its population in its branding activities is based on the idea that the international appeal of the city speaks for itself. The rationale here is as follows: superdiversity is part of who we are; it is so inherent to our identity, that we treat it as a "normal" element of our social reality, which does not need to be emphasized by local authorities (Interviews municipality Rotterdam 2015). In line with this, one of our respondent argued that by emphasizing this part of Rotterdam's identity, one would possibly even problematize the presence of the many cultures, ethnicities and religions in the city. Instead, the municipality reasons that the international sphere – from the countless cultural facilities to the many languages that you hear people speak in the streets – is evident in itself and needs no emphasizing by local authorities (Interviews municipality Rotterdam 2015). The assumption here is thus that approaching cultural diversity as a given fact, demonstrates the acceptance of one's identity. The following quotes illustrate this point strongly:

*The city's diverse composition is so typical for Rotterdam, that it is almost too logical to name it […]. From a branding perspective, we want to emphasize our international orientation, with the main port connecting us to the world. Our trade partners find in Rotterdam a city of many cultures and that is without a doubt a strength. But if you emphasize it too much, it is almost as if you are making an issue out of it.* (Interview municipality Rotterdam 2015)

One guiding principle in the position that Rotterdam holds is that celebrating diversity should be initiated and organized by residents or local storeowners themselves. Here, the municipality assumes that the self-organizing capacity within the city is well enough developed to allow locals "to express cultural features that for them already form part of the place identity" (Kavaratzis and Hatch 2013: 70). The previously mentioned Dunya Festival and Summer Carnival illustrate this point well: it were local residents who initiated these bottom-up events and it was only in a later stage that the municipality decided to facilitate these initiatives. In addition, the city approach to diversity fits well with Rotterdam's broader branding strategy, in which there is a strong belief in the power of stories and narratives, as told by *others* than the municipality, instead of forcing certain brand labels on people, in particular residents – who are important in shaping the place identity. As one of our respondents explains:

*The same goes for the West-Kruiskade, a famous street in Rotterdam, which is known for its multi-cultural character. Nevertheless, here in Rotterdam storeowners do not feel the need to label themselves as 'China-town' for example. It would be perhaps be great for branding purposes if they did. However, it does not work like that in the Rotterdam context, so we don't pressure them – even though we tried in the past – to brand themselves in this particular way. You can shout as loud as you want that you're a multicultural city, but in the end it's about how your locals organize themselves.* (Interview municipality Rotterdam 2015)

As the quotes in the above show, the way Rotterdam should approach cultural diversity in its branding policies has been subject to many discussions. One could expect that this has to do with the political landscape of the city, which since 2002 has definitely changed as a consequence of the electoral victory of the local populist party 'Liveable Rotterdam' (in Dutch: Leefbaar Rotterdam). The assimilationist tone regarding immigrant integration has not only changed the diversity discourse – in terms of the harsher rhetoric regarding old and new immigrants in Rotterdam – but also many policies that are connected to diversity, such as social cohesion, housing, spatial planning, and urban safety. But, does it also actually affect the choices that are being made regarding city branding? Interviews with our respondents reveal that choices regarding branding policies are implemented somewhat at a distance from the political reality of the city, because as one respondent puts it "branding is about a long term vision for the city, whereas politics are responsive to short-termed issues and events" (Interview municipality of Rotterdam 2015). The respondent stresses that in constructing identities, it is highly important to create a certain amount of credibility, in particular by consistent and long-term use of the brand. As a result, Rotterdam's city marketing office – actually strives to develop its branding policies relatively independent from the city council. However, in constructing a brand, which fits the city's personality, history, values, residential composition and urban assets – our respondents also emphasized that they do – oftentimes implicitly – take in account the *composition* of the city council. The following quote illustrates this point well:

*Our DNA as a city does not change, regardless of what political parties think of that. But there is a certain amount of discretionary space when it comes to words: you can say multicultural, cosmopolitan, or international. In addition… while constructing our brand we do think about the governing coalition and how we should frame our plans. [..] Rotterdam Make it Happen for example, we developed it in the middle of election times – so we did not knew which political parties would govern the city. And you take that in account when working on your plans that it has to be something that the VVD and D66 both can embrace.* (Municipality of Rotterdam 2015)

This quote and other similar statements show that the political discourses and -disagreement about governing the complexities of cultural diversity are influencing city branding, in the sense that for *those* constructing the brand – the power struggles between political parties *do* determine the conditions, which within branding decisions are framed and presented.

Finally, it is worth mentioning here – that although Rotterdam deliberately does not emphasize its cultural diverse city composition in branding activities, our respondents all mentioned that this part of Rotterdam's DNA offers many opportunities for the Rotterdam Brand. As the quotes in the below demonstrate, the city is reflecting on the question of how to use cultural diversity more in *future* branding activities:

*What I aim to do in the upcoming period is more strongly connect 'Erasmus' – who represents the 'at home in the world' ambiance – as an icon to the city. […] After all, he was the man who was known for dialogue and connecting people, a cosmopolite, so we could use that more. In addition, we are also planning to organize a 'flag parade' – in which each flag combines the flag of Rotterdam and one of the 174 nationalities in Rotterdam.* (*Interview Rotterdam Partners 2015*)

*I really am searching for how we can use it [cultural composition of the city] more. There are so many connections between our local economy and trade flows from and to Rotterdam,*  *and the many people who live in our city but who are also still connected to their country of origin and their culture. But the question is: how can we use that? [Interview municipality Rotterdam 2015*)

The above shows that while Rotterdam does not want to actively emphasize its culturally diverse characteristics in its branding, the city marketing team is searching for ways to incorporate it in a way that suits the context of Rotterdam. This quest shows the ongoing difficulty that Rotterdam faces in determining what to do with the cultural diverse characteristics of its identity.

Finding a balance between actively celebrating and communicating diversity on the one hand, and treating it as a "normal" part of Rotterdam which does not need emphasis on the other hand – is a reality which more local authorities are confronted with. Box 11.1 shows how the city of London chose a rather different balance compared to Rotterdam.

#### **Box 11.1 Superdiversity and the Branding of London**

London is classified as one of the most cosmopolitan and ethnically diverse cities in the world. The global centre of economic development of the city has always attracted many migrants from all over the world. Cultural diversity is hence inherent to the city's identity: London houses more than 192 nationalities and more than 300 languages. One-third of Londoners has a migrant background, in some parts of the city this percentage is even 50%. Vertovec (2007) therefore concludes that while "a relatively new and high proportion of immigrants characterizes many places in the UK", this is especially the case in London.

While the reality of superdiversity suggests both economic benefits as social concerns regarding immigrant integration and exclusion – London seem to have explicitly chosen to focus on diversity as one of its greatest assets. This is reflected in the 'broader' policy discourse on a London-wide level, which overall can be typified as one that "promotes a multicultural agenda" (Syrett and Sepulveda 2012). All mayors have consistently recognized London's diversity as one of "its great historical, social, economic and cultural strengths" and have committed themselves to create an inclusive city vision that emphasizes shared values and the benefits that different groups and communities bring to London (The London Plan 2004; Climent-Ferrando 2015). This does not simply mean that problems related to the city's composition do not exist in London, rather: despite of the increased societal tensions and highly politicized debates regarding community cohesion in the past years, the governance of diversity in London seems still to be geared towards the establishment of an inclusive society.

The 'inclusive discourse' in London has also translated into concrete tangible city activities, which all aim to make diversity visible and actually embracing it. The promotion of different events such as the Chinese New Year, the Eid Festival, the

Diwali Festival of Lights, but also the Notting Hill Carnival, the Arab Culture Festival and the Carnival del Pueblo exemplify the way London celebrates its diverse city composition. Specific areas in London – for example Brick Lane or 'Banglatown', Chinatown and Brixton Market – which are known for their ethnic diversity, are used by the city as to attract 'external audience' (Syrett and Sepulveda 2012). Moreover, the 'World in One City' title – which the Greater London Authority launched for its Census in 2001 – demonstrate how the many cultures, nationalities, religions and languages are celebrated as being part of London's heritage, neighbourhoods and identity. This approach draws on the economic ambition of the city, to attract different target groups such as highly-skilled workers, investors, students and visitors as well as major international events. It is not unusual that branding efforts are strongly connected to the pursuit of economic benefits for the city and that diversity is used as a means to achieve these objectives. In the case of London, London & Partners – responsible for the promotion of London– has named 'cultural diversity' as a main ingredient in promoting the city "as the best location for global and European headquarters" (London & Partners Strategy 2013–2014). In line with this, it has been argued that London has – strategically- incorporated its Chinatown as key element in the image of London as a multicultural city, as a way of expanding "political and economic ties with China" (Sales et al. 2009). In addition, some authors point to the fact that diversity and cultural experience were – again strategically – used as a key element in London's bid for the 2012 Olympics (Winter 2013). Incorporating diversity was not merely an expression of commitment to diversity, social inclusion and equity – but rather a strategic proposition (Harvie 2013: 489; and e.g. Winter 2013; Falcous and Silk 2010).

Despite these critiques, the London case does illustrate governmental efforts to use branding as a means to achieve social inclusion. An example of such an explicit manner in which London has attempted to communicate its belief in "one harmonious community of cosmopolitan citizens" (Muller 2011: p. 2), is the '7 Million Londoners, 1 London" campaign, which the municipality initiated shortly after the July 2005 bombings. Originally, the campaign was launched 4 years before the attacks under the name "7 million Londoners, 300 languages and 14 faiths". However, in the context of the terrorist attack it was re-used to "counter the negative feelings amongst the London population, holding on to the social inclusive vision that underlies and celebrate the diversity and unity of London" (ibid, p. 8). The underlying aim – namely to create a shared sense of belonging under Londoners – was further emphasized by Mayor Ken Livingstone's reaction in which he stated that the terrorists seek to divide Londoners and to turn them against each other (Financial Times 2005).

In sum, one could conclude that London exemplifies a city, which has thoroughly incorporated cultural diversity in its branding strategy. This applies both to the use of the World in One city slogan, the many festivals that celebrate the presence of many cultures, nationalities and religions as well as the wider-discourse of the city which acknowledges the economic and social benefits of a pluralistic society. As McGlory (2015) rightly argues: the London brand is built upon "the capital's internationalism, openness and diversity" (McGlory 2015). The case of London thus illustrates the awareness of local authorities of the potential that branding offers in creating a shared sense of belonging, especially in the context of the global terror and the highly polarized discussions on identify, social belonging and integration in a multicultural society. The question remains however how socially excluded groups or minorities within the city are perceiving the brand, and if it actually does encourage social and economic inclusion. Especially given the wider political and media discourse in Britain, which seems to be at odds with the image of harmonious multiculturalism that is central to the London brand.

#### **11.5 Conclusion**

This chapter has explored how diversity is used in place brands, which is relevant since place brands represent and (re)construct the identity of a city. The chapter analyses the case of Rotterdam, and draws on London as a contrast to Rotterdam. Drawing on the example of London, the chapter showed how diversity may be not only accepted, but embraced and celebrated, making it a core value of the place brand and a major distinguishing element. Within the London brand, diversity is thus not merely framed as an economic asset, but as a core strength of the city.

The case of Rotterdam was studied to investigate if and how a city – which is one of the cities struggling to come to terms with its identity as a city of migration – uses its superdiverse characteristics in its brand communication. The study shows that even though diversity is seen as an integral part of the identity of Rotterdam, it is only used in a limited and specific way in the branding strategy. The brand managers accept diversity as a part of the city, something which cannot be avoided and should not be denied. However, this does not mean that diversity is fully embraced and celebrated in the brand; diversity is hardly used in active brand communication. Rather, diversity is framed in a specific way, namely as an economic asset which is a valuable element of Rotterdam as an international harbour. Rotterdam is thus well aware of the opportunities that diversity may offer in terms of economic prosperity. At the same time, the study shows how the municipality struggles with diversity in its branding and positioning of the city, which reflects the broader struggle of the city in dealing with diversity. Branding is hence inherently connected to issues regarding social in/exclusion, belonging and identity. Policy choices regarding the brand identity therefore reflect how local authorities are encountering social, economic, and cultural consequences of superdiversity, and the struggle that comes with it.

Given the explorative nature of this study, it is not possible to give definite answers to the question how the difference between Rotterdam and London can be explained. However, our data do suggest that the political composition of the city council does play a role in the sense that the council influences what can be communicated and what cannot be communicated regarding diversity. There is an influential stream within the city council in Rotterdam which sees ethnic diversity as a problem, rather than something which should be celebrated. However, there are also strong voices emphasizing that the superdiverse character of the city is simply a fact and also an important asset. Altogether, Rotterdam is characterized by great and manifest ambiguity regarding ethnic diversity within the local authorities. In contrast London, where celebrating and promoting diversity has been a key commitment of all mayors, Rotterdam seems more restricted by the polarized political context in which the added value of diversity is being challenged by political actors on a more structural basis, and in more manifest ways.

#### **References**


**Open Access** This chapter is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.

The images or other third party material in this chapter are included in the chapter's Creative Commons license, unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the chapter's Creative Commons license and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use, you will need to obtain permission directly from the copyright holder.

## **Chapter 12 Conclusions: Coming to Terms with Superdiversity?**

**Maurice Crul, Peter Scholten, and Paul van de Laar**

Whereas many studies on urban diversity have focused on so-called global cities (Glick Schiller and Çağlar 2009; Crul and Mollenkopf 2012), this book focuses on a city that is not generally considered a global city but is nonetheless characterized by a high degree of migration-related diversity. Rotterdam qualifies as a superdiverse city (Vertovec 2007) that is home to people from more than 180 different nationalities who are speaking more than a hundred different languages and who brought with them all the big religions of the world. The concept superdiversity is especially relevant in those places where the historical majority group has become a numerical minority themselves, as is the case in Rotterdam. Of the whole city population, now more than half is of immigrant background, first or second generation. Rotterdam is a majority-minority city where diversity has become omnipresent in everyday city life. At the same time, however, diversity is highly contested in Rotterdam. Of the larger cities in the Netherlands, it is the city with the highest percentage of voters for the anti-immigrant and anti-Islam PVV (*Partij voor de Vrijheid* or Party for Freedom) of Geert Wilders in the national elections. The old party of late Pim Fortuyn, the rightwing *Leefbaar Rotterdam* (Livable Rotterdam), is the largest party in the City Council and it is part of the coalition that leads the city administration. This makes Rotterdam most

M. Crul (\*)

#### P. van de Laar Erasmus School of History Culture and Communication, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: vandelaar@eshcc.eur.nl

Free University Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: m.r.j.crul@vu.nl

P. Scholten Erasmus University Rotterdam, Rotterdam, The Netherlands e-mail: p.w.a.scholten@fsw.eur.nl

prominent and vocal of all big cities in the Netherlands in opposing the increasing diversity. This backlash against ethnic and religious diversity has also given rise to a political counter reaction: there are two new parties prominently visible in the local political arena: the progressive Muslim party Nida and the party Denk which was founded by Turkish-Dutch politicians. In the 2018 local elections, Denk was, as one of the newcomers in the City Council, the big winner in Rotterdam with more votes than the local PVV. In some Rotterdam neighbourhoods Denk and Leefbaar Rotterdam, became the two largest parties. In no other Dutch city, the polarization around the themes of migration and diversity is as evident as it is in Rotterdam. During the local elections of 2018, the national media compared the local political debate of Rotterdam with that of Amsterdam. While in Amsterdam local politicians more and more distance themselves from the rhetoric of national politics regarding issues like diversity, migration and refugees, we see that local politicians in Rotterdam have often been at the forefront targeting certain migrant groups and demanding action of the national politics regarding migration.

Our quest in this book was to unravel how the city of Rotterdam comes to terms with its superdiverse character. It speaks to the rapidly evolving literature on superdiversity by taking as the central case study a city that may be representative of a much broader range of cities in Europe (and beyond) that seem reluctant in coming to terms with superdiversity, and that are not ranked as global cities (see also Crul and Mollenkopf 2012; Zapata Barrero et al. 2017; Alexander 2007). The example of Rotterdam reveals the spectrum of contradictions and paradoxes that come along with this uncomfortable relationship with superdiversity. Rotterdam is both a city of inclusion, the first with a mayor of Moroccan descent, and a city of exclusion, with political discourses in the City Council that are exclusionary and sometimes outright discriminatory. Some of its most prominent local politicians seem to reject or ignore the superdiverse reality of the city, while, at the same time, it is absolutely clear for everybody to see that diversity has become a tangible and ingrained aspect of Rotterdam's urban life and urban design. We think that cities like Rotterdam stand for a larger group of European cities that struggle with discontent about growing migration-related diversity. Many are former industrial or port cities like Antwerp, Liverpool or Malmö. Whereas global cities generally celebrate superdiversity, in these cities more often the negative consequences of being a superdiverse city are emphasized. The core question to be addressed in this concluding chapter is why in some cities, like Rotterdam, the transformation into a superdiverse city is more problematic and accompanied by political upheaval, while in other cities it seems to be a more smooth process. The term superdiversity is merely describing a certain reality that characterizes Rotterdam and is not used as a normative term. With this book, we want to contribute to the growing literature that is trying to explain under which conditions a superdiverse city or neighbourhood is perceived by its inhabitants as an overall positive configuration and under which conditions people perceive it as being a more negative phenomenon and it leads to a more negative discourse.

#### **12.1 Superdiversity as a Social and Historical Fact**

One of the main characteristics of Rotterdam making it a superdiverse city is the increasing diversity in ethnic groups living in the city. Whereas in the 1970s and 1980s migration to the city was dominated by five groups (people from Turkey, Morocco, Surinam, the Antilles and the Cape Verdean Islands), nowadays we see a far greater diversity of the groups that are represented with substantial numbers. Among them migrants from Poland, Bulgaria, and Pakistan to name a few. There is a growing second generation and third generation, but also an increasing expat community that adds to the variation in socio-economic statuses among inhabitants with a migration background. It is therefore hard to say anymore who are the dominant 'minorities' in Rotterdam, as the city hosts so many different migrants, and as over generations the boundaries between different groups have clearly blurred.

It is not just the increased diversity of ethnic groups and statuses, but also the diversity *within* ethnic groups has grown enormously. As Crul and others show in Chap. 3, the socio-economic diversity within groups who originally arrived as low educated labour migrants, has increased tremendously as well. We see a growing disparity within the second and third generation: part of the children and grandchildren of the labour migrants are reaching a middle-class status, while another group is lagging far behind. This trend makes it more and more difficult to look at the position of migrant groups as a whole, or, for that matter, to see groups only through the ethnic lens. This trend also questions existing assimilation theories that assume that 'ethnic groups' assimilate and that the group as a whole gains upward mobility. We see that some subgroups in the second and third generation are moving in opposite directions. The children of the group that lags behind can potentially be worse off than the generation before them, exposing the complexity of integration processes amongst migrants and their offspring. This complexity is maybe one of the most prominent characteristics of superdiverse cities: we cannot easily detect overall patterns, nor can we find singular patterns for separate ethnic groups. Some tend to be excluded from participation in society, others choose self-segregation, and some show clear signs of emancipation and upward mobility, whereas others follow downward patterns.

Recent groups of migrants settling in Rotterdam provide a further illustration of the emerging complexity of migration-related diversity. During the so-called 'refugee crisis' in 2015 and 2106, substantial numbers of people started to arrive from Eritrea and Syria. For many it is still unclear whether their migration is permanent or they will only be here temporarily. Even when they are commonly described as one group, 'refugees', differences within this group, for instance socio-economical differences, are huge. Refugees from Eritrea are largely young males and females without a lot of formal education, coming from rural areas, who often suffered severe traumas of a decade's long lasting war. Syrian refugees who made it to the Netherlands, on the other hand, are often well-educated, coming from middle-class families, and they often lived in large cities like Aleppo or Damascus.

Temporality was earlier also an important question in relation to internal EU migrants from, for example, Poland and Bulgaria. It is this so-called CEE migration to Rotterdam that has formed the most substantial immigration to the city over the last decade. This too is an internally highly diverse migrant category, which includes people from both Northern and Southern Europe, low and high skilled people, some doing seasonal jobs, while others have decided to stay and bring over their families (see Van Ostaaijen et al. in this volume). Rotterdam is increasingly becoming a 'way station', as Entzinger calls it in this volume, where people stay temporarily, to then move on to another country or city, or move back to their country of origin. This parallels with earlier forms of (seasonal) pre-industrial European rural-urban migration patterns, when cities offered a temporary place of resource in order to improve the income position.

Who, in this situation, are actually the established groups in the city and who the newcomers? Only 9% of the Rotterdam population is born there and has parents born in Rotterdam (see Crul et al. in this volume). This makes the question who is the 'genuine Rotterdammer' almost superfluous. The Rotterdam-born children and grandchildren of immigrants nowadays make up a larger share of this 9% than people of ethnic Dutch origin. This implies that the label 'newcomers to the city' applies as much to people of native Dutch descent as to migrants. When contemplating integration processes in the city, it is therefore also important to look at the people of Dutch descent. Furthermore, it is crucial to look at differences across generations, given that for various groups with a migration background a third generation is already born and raised in Rotterdam. It is especially the intersection between all these characteristics (of both migrants and non-migrants) that are needed to analyse societal patterns in a superdiverse city (Crul 2016).

Where do all these temporary and permanent migrants and people of Dutch descent settle in Rotterdam? There is a relatively high degree of segregation between immigrants and their offspring and people of Dutch descent. According to the segregation index, about 45% of the Rotterdam population of Dutch descent should move to another neighbourhood in order to achieve a city population that is equally distributed. This is a big difference with, for instance, Amsterdam, where this figure is only 27% (see Entzinger in this volume). In Rotterdam, migrants and their children are located in 'old' neighbourhoods such as Feijenoord and Delfshaven, but increasingly also in neighbourhoods like Charlois and IJsselmonde, built at the end of nineteen century as part of the city extension. Crul and Lelie, in this volume, find a striking difference between Rotterdam and Amsterdam in how the people of Dutch descent living in majority-minority neighbourhoods perceive the growing ethnic diversity in their city. Twice as many people see this as a threat in Rotterdam. There is especially a much higher percentage of people in middlelevel jobs that are negative about the ethnic diversity in their city. This finding is in line with the political reality in Rotterdam. The anti-immigrant party Leefbaar Rotterdam can only be this big because it also has substantial numbers of voters from the Rotterdam middle-classes.

#### **12.2 Rotterdam's Reluctant Responses to Superdiversity**

One explanation for the backlash against the increasing diversity can be found in how the city narrative has been constructed. Rotterdam has always been a city of migration. The city, however, seems to have forgotten its history of diversity. As Van de Laar and Van der Schoor show in Chap. 2, Rotterdam's pre-modern growth during the late seventeenth and eighteenth century was largely driven by migration. In the seventeenth century, about half of the marrying men, according to the city registers, were born outside Rotterdam. One of the main still visible exponents of this is the high degree of religious pluralism, ranging from Catholics to different denominations of Protestants living next to each other. This pluralist legacy is still clearly visible in the skyline of the city. Churches with a very different outlook like the wooden Norwegian church, the typical Russian Orthodox church, the Finnish church or the Wallonian church are a result of the presence of these communities in the city. Migration continued to contribute to the growth of the city during much of the eighteenth century and shaped Rotterdam's world port expansion since the end of the nineteenth century. Although a majority of the migrants in this period were of Dutch origin, some researchers have pointed out the difficulties inland migrants faced in finding their way in the fast expanding city was not that different than for migrants that came from abroad.

A further important aspect of the post-war city, which makes the city narrative of Rotterdam different from that of Amsterdam, is its rebuilding after the destruction of the city centre during the Second World War. The children and grandchildren of the rural Dutch migrants that had come to the city in the first part of the twentieth century where the ones to rebuild and expand post-war Rotterdam. The overarching narrative, which became dominant, was that of Rotterdam being a city of hard working men and women who rebuilt the city with their own hands. In fact, the narrative of the reconstruction and the post-war expansion period could be reinterpreted as the end-phase of the acceptance of internal rural Dutch migrants as a truly integral part of the city population. This made this generation feel a strong ownership and identification with the city, which they then passed on to their children. Important to note: this happened in a period of relatively little migration to Rotterdam from outside the Netherlands, which was in fact an exceptional period in Rotterdam's migration history. The generation that grew up in this relatively ethnic homogeneous after-war Rotterdam, now forms the core part of the older voters of the antiimmigrant parties Leefbaar Rotterdam and Wilder's PVV.

In the 1960s and 1970s, the Dutch economy started to boom again and, especially in Rotterdam, the industry needed new workers for unskilled manual labour. This was the start of bringing in so-called guest workers, first from Italy and Spain and later from Turkey and Morocco. The migration into the city coincided with people of Dutch descent leaving for satellite towns. This changed the city's ethnic and cultural make up drastically. This period of relative prosperity came to end with the economic recession of the 1980s. The majestic Rotterdam Port no longer was the job engine it had been before. Factories and shipyards started to lay off people on a massive scale. In this time of great uncertainty, the first anti-immigrant incidents occurred and anti-immigrant parties for the first time received some traction among the working-class Dutch population in Rotterdam. The social democrats, in power since the Second World War and strongly rooted in the community of dock workers, were unable to integrate a post-industrial economic perspective for workers with a narrative of multiculturalism and solidarity.

Contrary to the original narrative of temporality of the guest workers, the number of migrants and their descendants increased in the 1980s, partly due to family reunification and partly because of new migrants, while at the same time the economic situation of the city worsened. In the early 1990s, due to the collapsing of the Soviet Union, migrants started to arrive from countries like Poland and Bulgaria. In a period of only two decades, the share of the city population with a migrant background increased from about 35% to over 50%. Of course, in some neighbourhoods the changes were more salient. As Vertovec points out in his epilogue to this volume, the pace of change in ethnic composition is often an important explanation of the growth of anti-immigrant parties. Part of what triggered the negative response to migrants in Rotterdam was the overall low level of education of the migrants that put them in direct competition for jobs with lower working-class Dutch people who had become unemployed because of the deindustrialisation of the harbour. As van Bochove and Burgers show in this volume, there is a strongly differentiated response to so-called expatriates and labour migrants. Although the descendants of labour migrants are increasingly emancipating into the middle-classes and higher skill level jobs, they tend to be perceived much more negative, constituting the 'other' (labelled 'allochthonous'), than expatriates. The paradox is that while expats often do not learn Dutch and often live in expat communities, the children of labour migrants, who do speak Dutch, many even with a strong Rotterdam accent, are targeted as not integrated.

The terrorist attacks of 9/11 marks a next historical period which set off a wave of anti-Islam reactions across the world and fuelled the rise of populist parties. In this period we increasingly see stricter boundaries (Alba 2009) being drawn between the imagined community of people of Dutch descent and 'outsiders', those of Moroccan and Turkish descent in particular. Especially the generation of Muslim youth that grew up after 9/11 has experienced not much else than their identity and religion being smeared. What Rumbaut (2008) has described as a reactive identity, an identity formed in response to societal circumstances, seems to develop among parts of this group. And this development also had an effect on the reality on the ground. People from different ethnic backgrounds became more antagonistic due to this climate. New Muslim and immigrant parties were founded in opposition to the anti-immigrant populist parties. Again, this made the debate sharper since there were now parties on both sides that made migration and Islam central topics.

In this context, especially the rise of populism in Rotterdam played a key role. As Van Ostaaijen shows in this volume, Rotterdam provided the first political arena in the Netherlands where populists broke the power of traditional parties. In 2002, Leefbaar Rotterdam was the first populist party coming to power in a Dutch city. This party, then led by Pim Fortuyn, played a short but crucial role in a similar populist rise in Dutch national politics. In Rotterdam, since 2002, power has gone back and forth between the social democrats and other left-wing parties and the populists several times, showing that the city remains divided, not only on migration-related diversity, but also more in general about which narrative should represent the city in the future.

In sum, the way the city and its population developed over time plays an important role in explaining the strong presence of anti-immigrant parties in Rotterdam. The historic situation of a relatively ethnically homogeneous city population just before the Second World War, followed by the rebuilding of the city by that same population forms an important part of the puzzle. That the economic recension in the 1980s coincided with more migration forms another part. This all brought together a number of factors that gave right-wing populism extra momentum. Important politically was the inability of the social democratic party to formulate a proper response to how the economic downturn of the city affected the position of the Dutch working class. Many workers felt betrayed by the party because they did too little to stop the very strong position of harbour workers from crumbling away. Some saw the social democratic party as an accomplish to the dismantling of the welfare state and sell out of the many securities that working-class people had fought hard for over the years. Rotterdam, as a result, became a fertile ground for disappointed working-class people to be recruited by populist parties. Moreover, new anti-immigrant parties were keen to fill that void with their anti-immigrant rhetoric presented as a 'solution' to the 'real' problems of the working class. The narrative was built on what could be considered a double loss. The loss of an ethnic homogeneous community and the loss of security as privileged harbour workers who had all kinds of social securities. The anti-immigrant parties mobilized this 'trauma of loss' again and again, emphasizing the betrayal of the social democrats on both the topic of migration and social security. They claimed that they would restore the old order, with people of Dutch descent on top of the ladder, and migrants stopped at the border or sent back to their country of origin. Obviously, it is impossible to deliver on both themes, since the majority of migrants and their children have strong legal rights and the old working-class jobs will not return. But apparently the idea of a party willing to stand for these issues even when they cannot deliver is more attractive than voting for a party that doesn't acknowledge the feelings of loss and tells their electorate that they need to adapt to a new reality.

The two competing and partly overlapping narratives of Rotterdam as city of workers (1850–1970) or a city of migration are clearly manifest in the development of local policies towards migrant integration. During most of the 1980s and 1990s, Rotterdam followed an approach oriented primarily at socio-economic integration, especially in the spheres of labour and housing. A more culturalist approach emerged in the 2000s in the context of the rise of populism in the local political arena. In the late 2000s, as Dekker and Van Breugel observe in this volume, a more generic or 'mainstreamed' approach emerged in the local policy approach. However, as they argue, this seems not so much to have been a response to superdiversity, but rather a response to individualization, responsibilization and government retrenchment. In their contribution, Van Houdt and Schinkel take a somewhat different position

regarding the policy narrative on diversity in Rotterdam. According to them, Rotterdam uses a narrative of 'exceptionalism' as the legitimation for an interventionist and experimentalist approach to public problems. This narrative has emerged already after the Second World War, where the war destruction provided a rationale and opportunity for urban and social engineering. In a similar way, Rotterdam today tries to 'manage' migration-related diversity, for instance by means of a law specially created for Rotterdam to be able to disperse low-income groups (including many migrants) over the city, in the establishment of a special national program for the development of the South of Rotterdam (since 1900 Rotterdam's place of arrival where most migrants live), or in a special 'Rotterdam code' prescribing norms for social behaviour in the city. Such government efforts often seem to defy the complex legal and political nature of managing diversity in practice. A recent example of this complexity reduction is brought forward by Snel et al. in this volume in their analysis of the Rotterdam approach to migration from Central and Eastern Europe. In spite of the strongly heterogeneous character of this group, Rotterdam was very entrepreneurial on a national as well as a European scale to advocate a more straightforward approach to social issues that were arising with subgroups among these EU citizens. The fact that they are EU citizens with legal rights together with the fact that EU members politically where very cautious to make distinctions between EU citizens, made this attempt doomed to fail from the very beginning. It, however, did negatively brand these groups with the stigma of being problematic.

#### **12.3 Rotterdam in Perspective**

A central claim in this book is that Rotterdam stands for a broader range of cities that are superdiverse but are struggling to come to terms with this reality. In this context, we especially refer to port cities, which, because of their economic structure and labour market, have traditionally met with significant migration (Van de Laar and Van der Schoor, this volume). But also 'second cities' are more often struggling with how to incorporate their city's diversity in their city narrative (Entzinger, this volume). These cities are usually not global cities. Port and or second cities are often cities that are internationally connected but at the same time still heavily rely on local and national social and economic opportunity structures. This partly explains why there is a strong orientation on the local economy (Dekker and Van Breugel), traditionally a strong belief in social engineering (Van Houdt and Schinkel) and why, given the big working-class population, social democratic parties have played such a dominant role (Van Ostaaijen).

Looking at Rotterdam as a port city or second city, we see that in many aspects it resembles a global city. More than half of the population is of migrant descent, there is a presence of groups from all over the world and Rotterdam is the port of call for ships from all over the world. The most striking difference with global cities is the political discourse about diversity and the city narrative, which seems to ignore the reality of its migration-related diversity. The comparison with Amsterdam, the other large city in the Netherlands, is especially interesting here. In his comparison between Rotterdam and Amsterdam, Entzinger in this volume builds a strong argument on the relevance of the local cultural and political climate and what he describes as the 'rhetorics of integration'. Entzinger observes that in many statements, both in public debates and in the policy and political discourse, Amsterdam and Rotterdam are each other's opposites when it comes to migration-related diversity. The differences between the two cities are large while the objective characteristics of the two cities, especially their 'superdiverse characteristics', are not that different. One could make a mistake by saying that the differences in rhetoric between both cities are not that important, but this would underestimate the realworld consequences of the differences in local 'climate' and 'rhetorics' for the people living in these cities. This is most clearly demonstrated by the article of Crul and Lelie about the opinions that people of Dutch descent have of diversity in the two cities (Crul and Lelie, Chap. 10 this volume). Crul and Lelie show that in spite of the fact that the socio-economic background characteristics of people living in majority-minority neighbourhoods are very similar in both cities, people of Dutch descent in Rotterdam hold much more negative opinions about diversity than people of Dutch descent in Amsterdam. There is, as they describe it, a key difference between both cities in terms of their 'taste for diversity'.

The observation that the differences between global cities and cities like Rotterdam are especially salient when it comes to the discourse on diversity is supported by how these cities' identities evolve and how they 'brand' themselves to the outside world. Global cities like London and Amsterdam see diversity as a core part of the city identity, and also use this in their city branding strategies to reinforce their positioning as global cities. The contribution by Belabas and Eshuis in this volume shows that in Rotterdam, the use of diversity in city branding is more layered and contested. Although Rotterdam defines diversity as a strength for the local economy ('World Port City'), it does not define it as a part of the city's identity itself, or as a core element of urban life. In fact, again as a reflection of the differences in discourses on superdiversity, it seems to evade diversity in city branding strategies because of its contested nature.

#### **12.4 Rotterdam as a Reluctant Super-Diverse City. Looking into the Future**

The explanation of why Rotterdam seems to be a reluctant or unhappy superdiverse city has led us to delve into political, historical, and economical reasons, as well as into the development of the public and political discourse and the city's narrative around diversity. It seems that the explanation for, some say, the exceptional case of Rotterdam, is to be found in the combination of all these elements coming together in a particular polarized political era. The way the city's economy has influenced political developments directly in the past, will again be true for the future. Several contributions show how the positioning of Rotterdam is changing in the direction of what could be described as a global city, in which expats play a key role, where the economy is much broader than that of a port city, and for which internationalization is a core aspect of its branding strategy. In fact, migration to and the diversification of Rotterdam are essential aspects of this process of Rotterdam becoming a global city. The port city slowly transfers into a post-industrial city with more jobs in the middle and higher segments of the labour market. This changes Rotterdam from being primarily working class into a middle-class city. This growing middle-class population and the high paid expats are becoming more and more visible in the city with restaurants and shops catering for them. These two groups will play a key role in the future of the city. Parallel to this, the city also works as an emancipation machine for low educated people both from immigrant and non-immigrant descent. This too will change the socio-economic composition of the city. The process of Rotterdam becoming a global and middle-class city is an intractable process that punctuates institutions and certainties from the past and brings new developments as well as uncertainties. The diversification of its population has become symbolic for the broader transformation from the industrial port city to the modern cosmopolitan city marked by pluralism and diversity that it has become. In addition, as in all processes of transformation, there will be winners and losers. Who will project their feelings of loss or gain on the symbolic centre of modernization: migration and diversification. As various contributions have shown, such discourses have a constitutive effect on this city itself. Alongside these political developments, the demography of the city is changing and affects the debate. With each future election, more people with an immigrant background are able to vote, while the number of voters of Dutch descent will shrink. This will probably, slowly, but gradually, erode the electoral base for the anti-immigrant populist parties.

The authors of this book showed that superdiverse societies come in different forms and will be differently perceived depending on the historic, socio-economic and political circumstances. In this sense, superdiversity as a concept should be understood as typifying a certain reality, rather than as a specific model of diversity. This also means that there is an epistemological and ontological difference between superdiversity as concept and other key concepts in migration literature such as integration, multiculturalism or assimilation. The concept of superdiversity, in existence since Steven Vertovec coined it in 2007, is becoming more and more matured. Researchers are empirically testing under which conditions a superdiverse city, neighbourhood, or school for example, shows positive outcomes in terms of social cohesion, acceptance or tolerance and resilience, while in other cases we see growing intolerance, polarization and conflict.

In this book, we embraced the complexity that a superdiverse reality creates for Rotterdam, a city where part of the population is ambivalent or even outright negative about ethnic diversity. We think this brings a necessary addition to the literature on superdiversity. Precisely because the initial idea of introducing the term superdiversity was to show the growing complexity of diversity, one should indeed also not expect a singular response to it. Just as much as we need to move beyond an ethnic lens that reduces complexities of people into simple ethnic categories, we also need to move beyond a singular superdiversity lens that would pretend to capture one reality or response. Rather, there will be many types of superdiverse cities, neighbourhoods or contexts, each with their own logic and challenges.

#### **References**


**Open Access** This chapter is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.

The images or other third party material in this chapter are included in the chapter's Creative Commons license, unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the chapter's Creative Commons license and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use, you will need to obtain permission directly from the copyright holder.

## **Chapter 13 Epilogue: What's the Matter with Rotterdam?**

**Steven Vertovec**

What's the matter with Rotterdam? This is a question I asked in a 2017 lecture (available to view at www.mmg.mpg.de), when trying to figure out how and why the city seems to disrupt common contemporary narratives concerning migration and cities. That is, social scientists since Simmel have postulated that cities are largely incubators of cosmopolitanism, or openness (if only indifference) to socio-cultural differences. It is often presumed that such openness goes together with an acceptance of ethnic diversity and immigration. Opinion polls and ethnographic research in cities usually bears out this presumption. Hence, it comes as surprising if not shocking to learn that in super-diverse Rotterdam – with over 50% of its population stemming from some 180 nations – the urban model of cosmopolitan incubator seems to fail. Authors in this collection have pointed to developments in Rotterdam by way of negative reactions to diversity, substantial voting for rightwing, antiimmigrant parties, and an 'unhappy version' of super-diversity in which the growth of a disapproving atmosphere has led to sharper ethnic boundaries, retreat into white enclaves, and low levels of white-ethnic minority social contact. Indeed, what's the matter with Rotterdam?

In this volume we have read of how, despite – or because of? – its remarkable levels and kinds of diversity, Rotterdam is the Dutch city with the highest number of voters for Geert Wilders' populist PVV (*Partij voor de Vrijheid* or Party for Freedom), and where the rightwing *Leefbaar Rotterdam* (Livable Rotterdam) party, heirs of Pim Fortuyn's anti-immigrant movement, is also the City Council's largest. How and why has this particular configuration (a high degree of super-diversity combined with strong right-wing sentiments) arisen? There is no single answer to such a complex situation and set of factors. In order to attempt a comprehensive set of answers, we would need an even broader analysis than that offered by this extensive volume concerning the historical interplay of the city's demography (not just

S. Vertovec (\*)

Max Planck Institute for the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity, Göttingen, Germany e-mail: Vertovec@mmg.mpg.de

P. Scholten et al. (eds.), *Coming to Terms with Superdiversity*, IMISCOE Research Series, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-96041-8\_13

ethnicity and migration background, but age, education and income), socioeconomics and labour market, urban policies, political campaigns and public debates. An important part of such an inquiry would have to be the examination of what we might call conditions of diversity, or complex social environments, and how they channel or influence particular outcomes by way of social engagement, public attitudes and political climate (Vertovec 2015).

For studying conditions of diversity and their impacts, initially one can turn to conventional theories to seek answers to this seeming puzzle as to why antidiversity proponents are so successful in the super-diverse city of Rotterdam. For instance, *ethnic competition* theory holds that ethnic/racial groups that are in proximity and that hold relatively equal social-structural positions become antagonistic as they contend for scarce resources such as jobs, housing, schools and state support (cf. Olzak and Nagel 1986; Cunningham 2012; Gonzalez-Sobrino 2016). In Social Psychology, *group threat* theory suggests that large numbers of ethnic minorities often lead to high levels of resentment, anger and fear among Whites (see for instance Tajfel and Turner 1979) or in Rotterdam's case, 'Autochtoons'. This is thought to arise from threats to identity and fear among Whites with regard to their potential loss of numerical weight, group status and political or symbolic dominance. Such feelings of threat, moreover, may lead directly to increased support for conservative ideologies and support for anti-immigration policies (Craig et al. 2018). These two rather classic theories, ethnic competition and group threat, are likely relevant to social and political dynamics in Rotterdam – but they cannot be regarded as entirely explanatory. Further reasons and dynamics need to be considered.

For instance, other, more context-specific demographic or geographical factors might be at play. One might be the impacts of *small but rapid diversification*. One of the early ethnic competition theorists, Susan Olzak (1992), postulated that ethnic threat – in terms of both a sense of heightened competition and vulnerable group status – among a majority population is more likely triggered by recent, albeit limited, increases in ethnic minority sizes than by the stable presence of a large set of minority groups. That is, sudden changes in ethnic diversity, however small, are enough to trigger fear and dismay among a current majority. More recently, as H. Robert Outten and his colleagues (2012: 15) point out, 'existing research has demonstrated that both actual increases in the relative size of the non-White population and Whites' perceptions of relative group size are related to appraisals of threat.' Eric Kaufmann (2014) similarly demonstrates that White toleration of ethnic minorities is reduced by *changes* in diversity: 'Rapid ethnic change, especially in places with limited experience of prior diversity, tends to be associated with radicalised White opinion and elevated far-right voting' (Ibid.: 272). In the United Kingdom, Kaufmann shows that support for the British National Party (BNP) is strongest in wards that were relatively White British in 2001 but that experienced a fast increase in ethnic minority share – although still rather small relative to other parts of London – during the 2000s. For example, a number of wards in outer London or Essex boroughs such as Redbridge, Barking and Dagenham or Thurrock changed quickly with respect to the proportion of ethnic minorities; these

subsequently witnessed high BNP support. In the Netherlands, Michael Savelkoul et al. (2017) similarly found that in areas that have undergone recent increases in ethnic minorities, there is a greater likelihood of voting for PVV.

The *'halo effect'* represents another current theory about surges in rightwing politics linked to the intensification of feelings of threat posed to some by diversity and diversification. This relates to the geography of diversity and anti-diversity attitudes. 'Halo' refers to zones that comprise a ring, arc or edge outside of a highly diverse area: if these halo zones are ones of high White concentration, anti-diversity attitudes may become increasingly salient. As Jens Rydgren and Patrick Ruth (2013: 718) describe, 'xenophobia and immigration-negative attitudes are most common in areas close to neighbourhoods with a high proportion of immigrants, and not within such neighbourhoods; making such areas even more likely breeding grounds for radical right-wing populist mobilization.' In this way, too, Kaufmann (2014: 272) points to anti-immigrant politics stemming from a 'threat from diversity in one's wider area'. 'The presence of significant diversity in one's city or local authority,' he (Ibid.) surmises, 'adds to threat perceptions because of the sense immigrants may soon introduce large-scale change into one's locale.' Kaufmann summarizes the Halo effect as 'the fact that opposition to immigration is greatest when immigrants are close, but not too close' (Ibid.).

In and around Rotterdam, these latter theories – *small but rapid diversification* and the *halo effect* – appear to have relevance. For example, two of the only Dutch municipalities in which a majority of votes went to Wilders' PVV were Schiedam and Nissewaard: these are immediately adjacent to the North and South of the municipality of Rotterdam (but still part of a greater Rotterdam area). As we have learned throughout this volume, Rotterdam is super-diverse with a 'Allochtoon'/ foreign population of over 50% (of its total of some 638,221 in 2017; all statistics here from www.citypopulation.de). Nissewaard has comparatively very few foreigners (after a 2015 merger, the municipality is comprised of Spijkenisse [pop. 72,500] with a foreign population of 22% and Bernisse [pop. 10,490] with just 10% foreign). For Nissewaard – a municipality of predominantly Whites/'Autochtoons' immediately next to the super-diverse Rotterdam municipality – the *halo effect* might represent an apt theory of explanation for recent right-wing voting. In Schiedam (pop. 77,859), where the foreign or immigrant population doubled from some 20% in 1997 to 40% in 2016, the theory of *small but rapid diversification* (plus some degree of *halo effect*?) might have some explanatory bearing with regard to its high PVV turnout.

Within the municipality of Rotterdam itself, similar geographical dynamics might be at work with regard to the preponderant support for the Liveable Rotterdam party. At the centre of Rotterdam, the borough of Delfshaven (2016 pop. 75,445; all stats here from www.allecijfers.nl) is the city's most diverse, with just 29.9% 'Autochtoon', 13.3% 'Western foreigners' and no less than 56.8% specifically 'non-Western foreigners'. Adjacent to this is Rotterdam Centrum (pop. 32,925) with 45.6% Autochton and 36.6% 'non-Western foreigners'. The boroughs with the highest number of Liveable Rotterdam representatives in the directly elected Area Committees of municipal government are Overschie, Prins Alexander, IJsselmonde and Charlois. These form a neat ring around Delfshaven and Rotterdam Centrum: hence the halo effect would seem to be at work here. Indeed, Overschie (pop. 16,195) has 62.7% Autochtoon and Prins Alexander (pop. 94,600) has 65.9% Autochtoon – so these are majority White boroughs on the edges of Rotterdam's super-diverse core. However, IJsselmonde (pop. 59,630) has relatively high diversity with 52.2% Autochtoon, 9.7% 'Western foreigners' and 38.1% 'non-Western foreigners' while Charlois (pop. 66,180) in fact actually resembles Delfshaven with only 37% Autochtoon, 15.9% 'Western foreigners' and 47.1% 'non-Western foreigners'. For these latter two boroughs, the *halo effect* theory seems irrelevant. Perhaps, if we had diachronic data, would these areas show *small but rapid diversification* as a source of right-wing voting? Or are there other factors to explain this anomaly – where IJsselmonde and Charlois present a microcosm of the Rotterdam conundrum of urban super-diversity combined with anti-diversity sentiments?

In order to get a better understanding of such dynamics (and to put such theories of diversity-driven attitudes to the test), I would suggest that much more qualitative – indeed, ethnographic – research is required in neighbourhoods with varying configurations of diversity in Rotterdam. In this way, we could get better descriptive insights into how super-diversity is perceived (from either within the super-diverse neighbourhood, from areas next door and from further afar), encountered, talked about and responded to behaviorally, interactively and politically. Further, we could get a deeper insight into the everyday workings of a range of super-diversity variables – gendered patterns, legal statuses, education levels, and more – instead of simply looking at the impacts of many ethnicities. This would also include a qualitative sense of racial discourses, concepts and meanings (probing the differences people perceive and act upon between the 'Western' and 'non-Western' foreigner categories) and the place of Muslim identifications in shaping public attitudes and political dynamics.

Another significant and related topic in need of further study in contexts like Rotterdam is that of the relationship between mobility and experiences of diversity in the city. As Han Entzinger rightly stresses in this volume, there is much to be gained from adopting the perspective of contact theory and its role in fostering the positive evaluation of others. However, what we don't know much about is how those White/'Autochtoon' PVV or Liveable Rotterdam voters – who might harbor anti-diversity attitudes when thinking about the places they live – might nevertheless have positive encounters with ethnic minorities in their workplace, school or leisure activities. In other words, how might contact theory 'work' in some contexts away from home, but be overridden when people consider diversity and otherness in relation to their own dwellings and neighbourhoods? Again, more ethnographic fieldwork in Rotterdam and similar cities would tell us much about the nature of contacts, the role of inter-city mobility and the effects of exposure to differently diverse spaces around the city – and how these play into the shaping of public attitudes and voting behavior.

There is nothing 'the matter' or wrong with Rotterdam. As we have learned throughout this comprehensive volume, it is complex place with a tangled history of migration, work and housing, integration policy, local politics and everyday encounters. Each chapter has told us much about how cities work in general and how this one in particular has come to be as it is. There is still much to learn, however, about how Rotterdam shapes its residents, and how they shape the city.

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