Taking sides
The war in Iraq has exposed cracks in the Dutch image of a tolerant multi-ethnic society, writes Alistair Alexander in Amsterdam
Bordering Germany and Belgium to the south, yet facing west across the North Sea to Britain and America, the Netherlands is caught in the middle of the European divide on Iraq both geographically and politically.
Not that the Dutch appear unduly concerned. The Netherlands has a long-standing (and lucrative) tradition of strategic pragmatism while the big European powers jostle for dominance around it. Policy on Iraq is no exception.
Like every country in Europe, the Dutch population was overwhelmingly against the war in Iraq -- 89 per cent were opposed, according to a poll taken before military action began. As a relatively small country of 15 million, the Netherlands has long seen its future on the international stage in a common European defence policy with France and Germany. Consequently, at first glance, the Dutch might have been expected to side with the Franco-German axis against US unilateral action in Iraq.
Yet Holland is also unabashedly pro-American. Walking through the canal-side streets of Amsterdam, the only people who do not speak perfect English are the tourists. And while the Dutch are exemplary Europeans when it comes to social issues, they also have an ingrained business culture that is more like San Francisco than Frankfurt. While other Europeans squirm at the growing dominance of US economic power, for the Dutch, it's simply a good business opportunity. For every Netherlander eating a Big Mac there's probably an American drinking a Heineken.
Underlying tensions over Iraq were further exacerbated by the continuing paralysis of the Dutch "polar" system of consensus-based government. Following an election in January this year, the Dutch parties have yet to agree on a coalition to form a new government. Currently, the acting prime minister, Jan Peter Balkenande, of the conservative and pro-war Christian Democrats, is in negotiations with the more sceptical Liberal Party. But Balkenande was previously negotiating with the anti- war Labour Party.
While the issue of Iraq presented an awkward dilemma, the response from the dour Balkenande was a quintessential Dutch compromise: "political" support for the United States, but not "military" support.
"They are looking for a compromise between America and the anti- war countries," says Salah Abdel-Razaq, of the Dutch Iraqi refugee group Iraakse Verenigingen-Raad. "The Dutch are very clever. They have their interests."
As a result, Holland took its place alongside El Salvador and Ethiopia in the "coalition of the willing". The Netherlands also provided the highly controversial Patriot missiles for Turkey's defence during the war.
"The policy is simply a reflection of the traditional Atlantic orientation of The Netherlands," says Dick Leur Dijk, a foreign policy expert at the Clingandael Research Institute in The Hague. At the same time it is not so Atlantic as to offend vital strategic partners France and Germany.
Nevertheless, Dutch eyebrows were raised over the recent meeting of European nations to discuss a common defence policy to which the Netherlands was conspicuously uninvited.
"I'm really puzzled about the usefulness and necessity of that meeting," remarks Leur Dijk. "If you talk about the common EU foreign and defence policy, you should do that with the 15 members and not with four among the 15."
As concerned as the Dutch might be about the Franco-German agenda, they also worry about America's aggressive new foreign policy doctrine. The Dutch are fiercely proud of their reputation as champions of international law; the World Court is in The Hague for good reason.
"Most people here would say that preventative action is in absolute contravention of international law as we know it now," argues Leur Dijk. "There is little support for it in parliament."
America's war on terror has also created problems for the Netherlands' domestic policy as much as it has for its foreign policy. Holland has a long history of social tolerance. In the 18th century, while much of Europe was embroiled in bloody conflict between Catholics and Protestants, the Netherlands was one of the only places in Europe where both religions were accepted and could trade with each other. As a result, Holland became the commercial hub of 18th-century Europe. Tolerance, the Dutch discovered, was very good for business.
More recently, that tradition of tolerance has made Holland one of Europe's most multi-racial societies and a safe haven for refugees. But the events of 11 September revealed that Holland was less progressive than it likes to think.
"Racism flared up all over the country" says Paul Abspoel of Vluchtelingen Organisaties Nederland (VON), a Dutch refugee organisation. "We had the greatest number of attacks on mosques in Europe and so I don't think we deserve to have this tolerant image any longer."
Pim Fortuyn's sudden arrival in Dutch politics in 2002 provided further grounds for alarm. As a flamboyant populist, Fortuyn shook the Dutch political establishment as he quickly gained massive support for his anti-immigration and anti-Muslim agenda. "Netherlands is full," was one of his favourite phrases.
To be sure, Fortuyn's popularity was also a sign that the electorate rejected the established Dutch political parties. But for many Europeans, the way Fortuyn mesmerised the Dutch electorate with inflammatory and racially divisive rhetoric contained disturbing echoes of the darkest chapters of recent European history. Fortuyn's assassination by a lone gunman just days before the general election in May last year shocked the nation.
Fortuyn's legacy has been a year of political stalemate and tougher immigration laws. Fortuyn's own party became the Dutch parliament's second largest party in the wake of his death. But it proved directionless without its leader, while the other parties reeled from the shock of such an emphatic vote against them. An initial coalition between Fortuyn's party and the Christian Democrats soon collapsed leading to this year's election and the current political stand-off.
Predictably in such a political climate, politicians have been quick to tighten up immigration policy to shore up their flagging support. And Iraqi refugees, once welcomed, have suffered accordingly.
"Dutch opinion and the Dutch media is against foreigners and particularly against refugees. There are now thousands of people who have been here for five years who still have not seen the results of their asylum application," says Abdel-Razaq. "So now there are 7,000 Iraqis without any legal status. These people now have children growing up here, but after five years may be removed."
Abspoel from VON agrees: "We've got to a point where policy is only seen as successful if it contributes to bringing down the number of refugees seeking asylum in The Netherlands."
As a result of new procedures, up to 60 per cent of asylum seekers are rejected immediately. The government's aim is to increase that to 80 per cent. The uglier mood in Dutch race relations is depressingly typical of Europe, where governments are competing with each other to introduce the strongest anti-immigration laws. The fact that these political currents are also taking hold in a country like Holland should be cause for particular concern.
Beyond Holland's borders, the difficulties presented by America's aggressive new foreign policy appear significant but manageable. But, like much of Europe, the tensions that the new global climate has exposed within Holland could prove to be far more problematic.
