August 10–17, 2000

cover story

Dutch Treat, Part 2

Lazy afternoon: Daytime’s dead time in the Red Light District. photo: John Grant

From hash cafés to a resting spot for prostitutes, Philadelphia tourists discover a world of difference in the social policies of Amsterdam.

by Harriette Behringer

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The Red Light District

The Red Light District, where prostitution is legal, reflects the matter-of-fact Dutch attitude. Prostitution has been around for more than 2,000 years; accept it as a given and don’t get uptight about it.

Some of the most often asked questions:

What does the District look like?

Located in mid-Amsterdam near the Central Train Station, it’s an area of bordellos in narrow houses with large windows fronting the street. Behind the glass we see scantily clad women displaying their charms. Some are walking around, some sitting down. Some are gorgeous. One wears a red bikini, another a white bathing suit that glows in the dark. Some are fat, some skinny, and many bored. We elbow our way through the crowds. Among voyeurs and potential customers are both Dutch and foreigners.

Are there male prostitutes?

No. This was tried before, but failed. Men can find same-sex partners easily in clubs and on the streets.

Is the District safe?

Yes, if you guard your wallet and avoid the sinister side streets. On the other hand, it’s not safe for a photographer who tries to take pictures. The women are not freaks. "No pictures" signs are posted on many windows. According to John Grant, cameras of malefactors have been snatched and hurled into nearby canals.

And the District is safe for a working girl. If a john gets violent, she pushes an alarm bell and the police arrive immediately.

Who pays the rent on the window brothels?

The prostitutes. Rent for an 8-to-12-hour shift is from 75 to 100 guilders ($37 to $50). Then women are actually independent entrepreneurs.

How does a man make contact?

With his eyes or a nod of the head. Then she opens the door, but only if she wants to. We saw a door slammed in a man’s face. Perhaps the price wasn’t right. He slouched away to the next window.

What is the cost of sex?

For 15 minutes, 50 guilders ($25), but for anything more than a fast "suck and fuck" the price escalates, varying with the manner of working, as in "What do you want, dearie?" Good looks matter, too. In general, a woman can earn up to 1,500 guilders ($750) per day.

What about sexually transmitted diseases?

The Municipal Health Services run a free clinic in the District where both women and clients can get an anonymous checkup. Prostitutes take good care of their bodies — their stock in trade. Condom use is essential and a customer can be turned away if he refuses to wear one. Condoms for vaginal and anal sex are available.

(Much of the above information is from the Prostitution Information Center. For information: www.pic-Amsterdam.com.)

The Bus

	Magic bus: Social worker Jacintha Smeur, right, and her colleague Annalies run a refuge for prostitutes in a city-sponsored bus in Utrecht. photo: John Grant

It might be the world’s most unusual bus.

Located in Utrecht, a city near Amsterdam, the bus is open from 7 p.m. to 1.30 a.m. daily, parked on the street where men pick up hookers for car sex. And it’s maintained by the City Council of Utrecht.

Actually, it’s more like a house trailer than a bus. We sit on a long, upholstered couch opposite an open kitchen with pink cabinets. We meet the director, Jacintha Smeur. Middle-aged and beautiful, with clouds of auburn hair, she tells us that she is a social worker and "coach," the Dutch word for counselor. She introduces her colleague, Annalies, who is tall and poised, with a long braid down her back. She could be a librarian, if a librarian wore a nose ring. A psychiatric nurse, she is a social worker on the bus.

"This is a quiet, safe place," she says, "where the women can rest, drink coffee, fresh orange juice, take a shower, and look into health problems, although we never force them to do so." Here they will find a doctor available for free consultation in a well-equipped examining room. She tells us that one of the most common problems is a sore wrist from giving hand jobs. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, we wonder?

"The prostitutes, who range in age from 18 to 55, are tired," she continues. "They need a break from car sex, which can occur about 15 times a night. They relax here. They confide in us. It’s important that we let them know ‘You’re OK as you are.’"

The Prison

"Drug addiction is a medical, not a criminal, problem."

We hear this view expressed often. And now, when we visit a prison with a drug addicts’ wing, we’ll see that policy in action.

photo: John Grant

At Zutphen prison, near Amsterdam, guards examine and confiscate our passports temporarily at the door of the big red brick building. We enter the quiet lobby with its fountain, green plants and a charming dollhouse made by prisoners. One of our group, who knows U.S. prisons, remarks, "I can’t believe it. No clanging metal doors!"

At lunch with the prison director, two counselors, a social worker and a guard, we learn that this clean and shiny prison, three years old, has a population of 192, 24 of whom are in the drug addiction wing. All are now drug-free; medical treatment is compulsory for addicted criminals.

After lunch, we take a general tour, led by one of the counselors and the guard who is, like many Dutch, tall, blond and handsome — rather like an older Hans Brinker. I’ll call him "Hans."

We enter the "factory" — not a sweatshop at all. In a well-lit room the prisoners are assembling small parts. The drug addicts work here, too, but they stay within their own group at a different time of day. Workers earn 25 guilders ($12.50) a week, money they can use to buy candy, cigarettes, or to rent a TV set for their cells.

In other areas there is job training: auto mechanics, carpentry and computer skills. The social worker helps the men find jobs before release, and she follows up on their progress after they return to the outside world.

"Job training is important," says the counselor. "If you release a prisoner with no job, he will likely go back to his old street friends and get into trouble. However, if he has a job he may not steal again."

Can wives or girlfriends spend a night in the prison? Of course.

Hans shows us the conjugal visit bedroom. If my husband were here we would check in. It resembles a small, pleasant hotel room with a double bed. "We had to soundproof it," laughs Hans. "They made so much noise."

Finally we reach the drug addicts’ wing. We enter a spacious room with an open kitchen. A prisoner is cooking something on the stove. We sit at a large, boardroom-style table. Soon we’ll meet three inmates, but first the counselor says, "Here is where we try to turn aggression into respect." And then, to our amazement and admiration, he adds, "We do our jobs with joy."

He introduces us to three inmates, who sit down with us. These are no recreational pot smokers. All are addicts, now drug-free, who have been incarcerated for violent heroin-related crimes. All are young. They look to be in their 30s.

Jon wears his dark hair in a ponytail. He is movie-star handsome. Vincent seems nervous. His face is ghostly pale and perspiration runs down his cheeks in rivulets. Paulo is sturdy and dark. He tells us his mother is Brazilian, his father Moroccan. (Their real names are not used here.)

Because they have told us they have been incarcerated in other prisons before coming to Zutphen, one person asks, "How would you compare other prisons to this one?"

"This is the best," says Paulo. "Here we can talk with a psychologist, counselors, and most important, with each other. We all have the same problems to work out."

We ask about their families. Several have not seen relatives for many years. "I have a 14-year-old daughter," says Jon. "She has never visited me here and I don’t want her to. I don’t want her to know I’m in prison."

"Would you like to see what a cell looks like?" asks the counselor.

Of course we would. Jon welcomes us to his cell. It is small, so the eight of us take turns going in. Sexy pinups cover one wall. Shelves topped by a TV set house personal items. Perhaps the tough part for Jon is showing us his daughter’s framed photo. In a corner, a caged bird twitters.

Later, I remark to Hans how comfortable the cell looks.

"Yes," he says, "but it’s still a prison."

We visit the regulation-sized gym with volleyball courts. "These guys learn teamwork in sports — something they haven’t learnt before," says the lanky PE instructor.

The nearby exercise room has almost as much equipment as my Rittenhouse Square health club. Stationary bikes, rowing machine, treadmills, weight-lifting apparatus — the whole works. Through the window we see a soccer field where inmates are playing a fast game.

The Dutch philosophy again: "Not animals, human beings."

"Where a great proportion of the people are suffered to languish in helpless misery," Samuel Johnson once remarked, "that country must be ill-policed and wretchedly governed: A decent provision for the poor is the true test of civilization." And prisons are packed with the poor, for the most part.

Yet I’ve just left a place that seems short on misery. A place where drug addicts may find new hope. Moreover, it’s a prison where 40 percent of the inmates in the drug wing are not recidivists.

On the other hand, prison construction is booming in America. Many are privatized — big bucks in that. In our country far more is spent on security than rehabilitation.

But in the Netherlands most big cities have policies that address both abstinence and quality of life, believing that the two are closely related. In this land of social democracy, ex-convicts get free medical care, subsidized housing and job assistance. On this front, physicians, police, public defenders, social and public health workers cooperate.

But perhaps I could do with a reality check. Perhaps I had too many stars in my eyes when I left Zutphen. Perhaps it’s not fair to compare Dutch to U.S. prisons. In our vast, heterogeneous country, inmates are from ethnic groups of various cultures and social classes, which makes rehabilitation more challenging. In the Netherlands, a tiny country, the prison population is homogeneous, with common bonds and experiences.

Nonetheless, the quality of mercy that pervades Dutch social policies echoes in my mind throughout this journey, like a symphonic theme that one recognizes again and again.

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