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‘Now, 17 million visitors a year stay in Amsterdam, many
keen to ogle women in red-lit windows, party, and turn the centre into what has
been called an ‘urban jungle’.’ Visitors to Amsterdam’s red-light district.
Photograph: Naomi O'Leary/The Observer
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Boorish sex tourists are ruining Amsterdam. It’s time to
ship them out
Senay Boztas
Any charm the city’s red-light district once had has been
trampled by a flood of leering visitors. But change is coming
Fri 5 Jul 2019 15.20 BST Last modified on Fri 5 Jul 2019
15.52 BST
As I battled a pushchair across the unhelpful Amsterdam
cobbles, three young Englishmen approached. “Where’s the red-light district?”
they asked this bleary-eyed, breastfeeding mother. I thought about directing
them straight into a cold canal, but politely waved in the direction of what
the Dutch call De Wallen.
A decade ago, I had no idea that they were the first drips
in a flood of tourists. Now, 17 million visitors a year stay in Amsterdam, many
keen to ogle women in red-lit brothel windows, party, and turn the centre into
what city ombudsman Arre Zuurmond has called an “urban jungle”.
In some ways, it’s nothing new. Since the early days of
seafaring, sailors have been stopping off in the port of Amsterdam to avail
themselves of the remunerated charms of its women – as witnessed by the jaunty
17th-century sea shanty The Maid of Amsterdam, in which a man pledges to “go no
more a-rovin’” with a red-lipped dame who has been his “ruin”.
Roll forward a few centuries, though, and there’s a
widespread feeling that the sex district – or rather the visitors it attracts –
is proving the ruin of Amsterdam. This week, after months of hinting at action,
Amsterdam’s first female mayor, Femke Halsema, has revealed four potential
futures for the famous prostitution windows, including shutting all 330 of them
and moving the sex district elsewhere – possibly to a “sex work hotel”. Keeping
the status quo, for the city council and many of its residents, is not an
option.
Living in a city where your normal (cycle) path might take
you past women selling themselves in windows is an odd thing. Suddenly, there’s
something terribly interesting on the other side of the street to point out to
the children (alongside a resolution to take the long route next time). On the
bright side, the sex workers generally look bored and grumpy rather than
X-rated, and the Victoria’s Secret billboards at Schiphol airport are probably
more revealing.
Yesterday evening, pedalling through the medieval district,
the narrow, thronging streets felt a bit like the start of a college ball.
Window brothels lining the Oudezijds Achterburgwal were either empty or the red
curtains were pulled shut. But there were also signs that the city was
watching: a few police on horseback, a huddle of city wardens reminding
tourists to “enjoy and respect” Amsterdam, and adverts informing miscreants
that street drinking or peeing risk a fine of up to €140 (£125).
The atmosphere isn’t what you’d call homely, but normal life
in Amsterdam doesn’t bring you into contact with sex workers unless you look
them up. It’s a different story with those tourists who throng in front of the
windows, leering without buying, eating cheap food on residents’ front steps,
spilling over the city and generally being an obnoxious nuisance. It’s obvious
that something needs to change to let this group know that they are not
welcome.
The Dutch approach to prostitution is largely practical: sex
work will always exist, so better for everyone to legalise, control and tax it.
Sex workers are registered with the chamber of commerce and the city council –
and must have health insurance and regular checks. This makes a lot of sense to
a feminist, and Foxxy Angel, of the Proud Dutch union for sex workers, says the
window structure gives them safety and security – as well as the chance to look
a client in the eye before saying yes and opening the door.
But the council has so far failed to clean up the
problematic aspects of the red-light district – fraud, money laundering and
human trafficking. In 2007 the city started Project 1012 to address widespread
criminality: however, analysis by the city audit office last year found that
while 112 windows and 48 coffeeshops – where cannabis is smoked – were closed,
the project did not succeed in breaking down criminal infrastructure or bring
in any economic upswing. From 2005 to 2016, the report said, there were at
least 119 victims of human trafficking.
My Red Light, a project that invited sex workers to run
their own brothel in city-owned premises, has had mixed results too, with
financial difficulties, concerns about human trafficking and complaints from
sex workers about heavy-handed enforcement.
Some people feel brothels are part of the charm of the
beautiful De Wallen, but it seems obvious that in an internet age where a
screen is as good an advertising space as a window, they could easily be
located elsewhere. Angel tells me that many sex workers who visit the Proud
office in the red-light district are concerned about the future but admit that
a sex hotel-type structure could offer the same kinds of protections. Lyle
Muns, spokesman for My Red Light, says sex workers certainly need a good
alternative if the walls go up in De Wallen.
Finding another location would be a problem in a city with a
massive space and housing shortage, but even talking about moving prostitution
from the red-light district is a good thing. If it flashes up a big, red “stop”
sign for those thoughtless, boorish tourists, or diverts them somewhere else,
many Amsterdammers will feel a profound sense of relief.
• Senay Boztas is an Amsterdam-based journalist who writes
on Europe, particularly the Netherlands and Belgium
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