Nowhere is the Netherlands' ambivalent relationship with migration more visible than in Rotterdam, a city known both for its diversity and its growing support for the far right.
The country's largest port, Rotterdam was home to the Netherlands' first mayor of Moroccan descent. It was recently dubbed “Europe's new capital of cool” by CNN for its outdoor art galleries and innovative architecture.
But Rotterdam has also mostly been governed by far-right and populist parties since 2002 and in some neighbourhoods, far-right politician Geert Wilders won the most votes in the 2023 election.
"It scares me," said Joost, a 60-year-old university professor. "Our government tells us we should have the most strict policy in the world against migrants because we don't like them. But we should be more open."
Yet at the same time, migration is being celebrated in Rotterdam. In May, the country's first migration museum, named Fenix, opened in a restored 100-year-old port warehouse. Among the glass skyscrapers, it is hard to miss, with its double-helix staircase designed by Chinese architect Ma Yansong that leads to a rooftop platform.
It is not just an impressive exploration of the past, but a living link with the changing face of the country. Asylum seekers living in Rotterdam are invited to take part in Fenix's activities. Thousands have been housed by authorities just a few kilometres west of the museum, on cruise ships that are increasingly used as a temporary housing solution because of a shortage of shelters on land.
On Tuesday nights, a group of seven volunteer cooks, mostly women, serve food to up to 50 people who pay €5 for a meal. Recent dishes included Syrian mloukhieh, Yemeni mandi and Turkish kebab. Organisers hope to invite asylum seekers from the nearby ships to join its dinners. “It's about practising Dutch but also learning to talk about who you are,” said Lai Chee Chiu, who co-ordinates the dinners through non-profit organisation Mano.
Tala, a 31-year-old Syrian refugee who volunteers alongside the cooks, said her overall experience of Rotterdam has been positive. “The group likes cooking and wants to integrate,” she said. Tala recently moved into her own apartment after living for more than a year on a cruise ship moored on the river Maas. “The help we get in Rotterdam is unlike anything I've experienced before.”
The museum's location – facing the former headquarters of the Holland America Line shipping company, where hundreds of thousands of Europeans once boarded ships bound for North America – serves as a reminder that the Dutch were once migrants, too.
Common experience
A labyrinth of more than 2,000 suitcases with the individual stories of their owners forms an exhibit at the museum. The oldest piece dates from 1898 and began its journey to the Netherlands aboard the Trans-Siberian Railway. Some are happy stories. Others document colonialism, exile and loss.
“I can assure you, there's a migration story to tell in every family. What we need in these times is empathy,” Fenix director Anne Kremers told The National. “I really hope that after visiting the exhibitions the visitors feel like: 'OK, this is also about me.'”
Admiring the views over the Maas river during a recent visit was Jantine, a 23-year-old Dutch music teacher. She said she felt more understanding for migrants after viewing a photo exhibit. “You see emotions like happiness, fear or sadness. You feel yourself reflected in their eyes,” Jantine said. “Just showing those pictures is very political, but they also don't tell you what side you should choose.”
Behind the suitcases, the wall features a timeline with glimpses of Rotterdam's history. They go all the way back to the arrival in 1583, as a Protestant refugee, of Johan van der Veeken, a merchant and owner of slave ships, who later became the second richest person in the country.
On the first floor, a fishing boat used in 2022 by migrants to cross the Mediterranean Sea to Italy stands next to a child's drawing of the Saint Louis, a ship that carried Jewish refugees in 1939 and was turned away from North America. About 239 of its 937 passengers died in the Holocaust.
The museum, which is free for locals, does not aim to lecture visitors, Ms Kremers said. “We could tell you what you should think, but it will stick with you if you experience the museum,” she said. “History repeats itself. That's what we want to share.”
Today, the central Mediterranean route via Italy has become the deadliest migration crossing in the world, with 2,500 recorded deaths or disappearances in 2023.
The Dutch government collapsed in May for the second time in two years over migration after Mr Wilders issued a 10-point list of demands deemed impossible to implement. Among them: the deportation of 60,000 Syrians with residence permits. New elections have been scheduled for October.
Showcasing migration as a human experience common to everyone may not explicitly address the continuing Dutch political debate on migration, but the national context is important.
For the museum, direct involvement with the local community is essential. “We think that is very important that migration is not just a story that you read about in a museum,” Ms Kremers said. “To us, it's very important that communities in the city also have this stage to share their national holidays, their memorial days, and sometimes just their story by cooking and sharing a dinner.”
The museum is an initiative of the Droom en Daad foundation, whose director Wim Pijbes used to head the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.
Work please
Opening a museum on migration in a country increasingly hostile to the idea is a bold move that offers an alternative to the polarised political debate, said Saskia Bonjour, an associate professor in political science at the University of Amsterdam who specialises in migration.
“It's probably not a coincidence that they chose the artistic road, in which they can convey ideas without being explicit, rather than the historical or pedagogical road,” Ms Bonjour said. “In mainstream culture, the dominant discourse is that migration is bad. National self-identification with openness and tolerance is gone.”
For asylum seekers themselves, national politics feel distant, but the consequences are deeply personal. Living on a Rotterdam cruise ship is part of an application process that can take months or even years. While they wait, many migrants work by delivering food by bicycle. They bristle at their portrayal by far-right politicians as coming to the Netherlands to live off the state.
“We are here to work. We are not here to live off aid,” said Haitham, 30, from Syria. An Arabic teacher, he cannot teach without being fluent in Dutch, but also has no access to free Dutch classes because he is older than the age limit of 25.
They all dispute Mr Wilders's claims that Syria is safe to return to following the fall of the Assad regime. “He should read the reports,” said Haitham, citing recent killings. These include the deaths in March of nearly 1,500 people at the hands of groups linked to the Syrian government. Last month, more than 1,300 people died in southern Syria in clashes between Druze fighters, tribal groups and government forces.
Standing beside Haitham, a Kurdish Syrian man in his thirties who did not give his name said he hopes to reunite with his wife and three children in Turkey. “I came here to feel like I'm treated like a human being,” he said.
Yet even among Fenix's most empathetic visitors, there is little awareness that the Dutch may have experienced similar feelings, albeit in a different historical context.
“It doesn't relate to me on a personal level at all, because I don't really have migration in my family,” said Jantine, a Rotterdam resident. “I don't know if I'm the right audience, because I already think that immigrants should be welcomed.”
Asked if the museum might change minds, she was uncertain. “I don't know if it gets a lot of visitors on the other side of the political spectrum,” she said. “When I look around, I think there's a lot of really tolerant people already.”
Back outside, Joost acknowledged that migration is a difficult conversation as he snapped a picture of the former Holland America building opposite, now a hotel.
“You can see that here in Rotterdam, there are so many people living from so many nationalities. On the one hand, it's perfect. At the same time, it's a problem for a lot of people,” he said. “We wanted to be a country of tolerance and openness, but now populists say we must protect our prosperity.”
Still, many believe that Rotterdam's multicultural past, and future, will endure. “There is place for everyone,” said Mano's Ms Chiu. “But nobody knows what the future will look like.”
