In the street market outside Almere's glass-fronted Stadhuis – the council offices – stalls are selling clothes and toys, typical Dutch sausages and cuts of glistening ham. At another stall, occasional shoppers inspect piles of Islamic headscarves and ankle-length gowns. But if many of the councillors in the Stadhuis have their way, that stall will not be doing a roaring trade for much longer.
The party that won most seats in the municipal elections in Almere earlier this year – although it failed to form a governing coalition – would like to ban the wearing of headscarves in public buildings such as the Stadhuis, as well as banning the construction of new mosques. That party is the far-right Freedom Party (PVV), of Geert Wilders, the populist firebrand behind the anti-Islamic film Fitna, who has accused Muslims of trying to "colonise" his country.
Three months ago, almost a quarter of Almere's voters backed the PVV and Wilders was being tipped as a possible prime minister in forthcoming elections on 9 June. "Today Almere and The Hague," said Wilders –"tomorrow the whole of the Netherlands. This is our springboard for success."
His poll fortunes may have diminished somewhat since then, as the country's mainstream parties have toughened up their own acts on immigration. But the blond-mulleted Islamophobe may yet be credited with transforming how Holland does its politics.
The urgent question in Almere – and throughout the rest of the Netherlands – today is how significant the "Wilders moment" really was in a country better known for consensual deliberation than vituperative and divisive debate. On 9 June, will Almere prove to be a springboard to high office for one of the more radical politicians in the heart of Europe?
Outside the Stadhuis, the Islamic stallholder, a bearded Muslim in early middle age, does not seem unduly bothered by local support for the PVV. "People are very nice here," he says while selling his wares. "I've never had any problems here with anyone. In other places …yes. And there is the PVV," he concedes, "but what they say, their ideas, are really about something else."
About what then? Analysts have suggested that the PVV's recent rise was an expression of disillusionment from a population fed up with the mainstream parties.
Certainly, if Almere has become the symbol – along with The Hague – of the rise of the PVV and Geert Wilders, it is a very reluctant one. There is embarrassment at drawing unwelcome attention to "tolerant" Holland as Belgium passes its own headscarf prohibition and France moves in a similar direction. Almere does not want to be seen as in the vanguard of Europe's culture wars. Its occupants are often unwilling to talk about the coming elections, and no one here seems to have voted PVV.
Half an hour by train from Amsterdam, formidably modern Almere sits on the flat plain of the Flevoland polder –a tract of land enclosed by dykes bordering the waters of the Markermeer. Built as an overspill city for Amsterdam's growing population, the first house in this city of more than 170,000 was finished in 1976.
Its social ills are not the obvious ones of poverty and unemployment. As one resident tartly points out "We're much better off than Britain." Its residents, framed by the backdrop of the familiar shops in the city centre mall – C&A, Mango, Bodyshop and Footlocker – are what make Almere different, attracting Wilders in the first place.
Almere is one of the most multicultural cities in Holland – perhaps in Europe – hosting 181 nationalities. Just 39% of those living in the city are native Dutch, half born in Amsterdam, who were attracted by the idea of a quiet life in the midst of the green polder. The rest come from Suriname, Turkey, Morocco and Vietnam attracted by the low-cost housing. It is this obvious division that Wilders has sought to exploit.
Joop Hoogendorn, 77, is a retired sports administrator who moved to Almere six years ago from the ancient walled town of Naarden, attracted by the cheaper prices for retirement flats. Ahead of the election, security is his major concern: "Safety on the streets. We have people in the city, young people of a Moroccan background, who rob people of their telephones. And health. It is very expensive here."
At first it seems likely that Hoogendorn is a supporter of Wilders' PVV with its emphasis on "safety", its backing for civic security patrols and antagonism to the country's Muslims. But he is shocked: "I wouldn't vote for the PVV. They are discriminatory even if they are promoting city guards. My party is the [Conservative] Liberal Party. The PVV is aggressive in the way it talks. And it offers no alternatives."
There is another mystery, as author and academic Hans Moors, who has studied Almere explains. Not only is it Holland's safest city but the perception of the threat of crime from young Moroccan men – which has risen since the murder of controversial filmmaker Theo van Gogh in 2004 by 26-year-old Dutch-Moroccan Mohammed Bouyeri – is also a false construct. The Moroccan population in Almere is tiny.
"What happened at the last [municipal] elections was that Wilders was very successful in presenting a safety narrative of fear of crime," says Moors. "The mayor here said, 'Look, we are the safest city. It has been proven by scientific means.' And Wilders said, 'Look, here's another mayor who wants to ignore your fears'."
Moors solves the puzzle of the missing PVV voters by explaining that many of those who voted for the party are "anxious" about being identified with it, not least because, despite his claims that his party is conventionally right wing, Wilders has visibly attracted neo-fascists as supporters. In doing so he has imported a brash new rhetorical style, quickly reactive to events, that has shaken up Dutch politics.
"Almere is a passport out of Dutch politics," says Moors. "Holland isn't used to populist and discourse-driven politics." He is uncertain whether Wilders has the traction to break through in June, despite what happened in Almere. If he has changed anything, Moors believes, it will be the style in which politics is done in Holland, not the essential power relationships between parties.
It is a view shared by Mackiel Kuppenol, a 42-year-old software engineer who is walking with his wife on a bank holiday that has turned Almere into a windswept ghost town. "This is all about emotions going up and down," he says his finger describing a curve that suggests that the PVV has peaked.
"It is a protest against the mainstream political parties. I mean… you've been here? You've counted the women with headscarves in the street at any time? You can do it on one hand."
The Guardian
