The Unknown City: Contesting Architecture and Social Space

The Contested Streetscape in Amsterdam
expected the roof to have been fixed, in keeping with the negotiated compromises
that have marked what some would call the social absorption of
the squatter movement in the 1980s. Civic authorities have actually issued
pamphlets on “how to be a squatter” in Amsterdam, still another example
of creatively regulated tolerance.
This vertical transect through the current status of the squatter
movement was matched by an even more dramatic horizontal panorama
along the east side of Spuistraat, from Paleisstraat (Palace Street) to the Spui.
To the north (my left, looking out the front window) was an informative sequence
of symbolic structures, beginning with a comfortable corner house
on Paleisstraat that had been recently rehabilitated with neat squatter
rentals (another contradiction in terms?) above. Below was a series of shops
also run by the same group of rehabilitated and socially absorbed squatterrenters:
a well-stocked fruit and vegetable market/grocery selling basic
staples at excellent prices, a small beer-tasting store stocked with dozens
of imported (mainly Belgian) brews and their distinctively matching mugs
and drinking glasses, a tiny bookstore and gift shop specializing in primarily
black gay and lesbian literature, a used household furnishings shop with
dozens of chairs and tables set out on the front sidewalk, and finally, closest
to my view, a small shop selling handcrafted cloth hats for women.
This remarkably successful example of gentrification by the youthful
poor is just a stone’s throw away from the Royal Palace on the Dam, the
focal point for the most demonstrative peaking of the radical squatter movement
that blossomed citywide in conjunction with the coronation of Queen
Beatrix in 1980. A more immediate explanation of origins, however, is
found just next door on Spuistraat, where a new office/construction site has
replaced former squatter dwellings in an accomplished give-and-take tradeoff
with the urban authorities. And just next door to this site, even closer to
my window, was still another paradoxical juxtapositioning, one that signaled
the continued life of the radical squatter movement in its old anarchic
colors.
A privately owned building had been recently occupied by contemporary
squatters, and its facade was brightly repainted, graffiti-covered,
and festooned with political banners and symbolic bric-a-brac announcing
the particular form, function, and focus of the occupation. The absentee
owner was caricatured as a fat tourist obviously beached somewhere with
sunglasses and tropical drink in hand, while a white-sheet headline banner
bridged the road to connect with a similar squat on my side of the street,
also bedecked with startling colors and slogans and blaring with music from
an established squatter pub. I was told early in my stay that this was the
most provocative ongoing squatter settlement in the Centrum. It was