Nothing about Stek Oost, the accommodation block for 250 students and young people in East Amsterdam, appeared welcoming or homely during a recent visit. The scene was one of urban decay and neglect, with shopping trolleys overflowing with fetid rubbish abandoned near the entrance. Sodden mattresses and discarded sofas lay piled in muddy grass outside, while smeared windows, rust-stained cladding, and filthy orange awnings completed the dismal picture.
The young residents moving in and out seemed equally affected, hunched against the cold with expressions of tiredness, anxiety, and deep-seated antisocial detachment. "I never mix with my neighbours. I only sleep here," confided one Dutch marketing student. Another young woman hurried away on her bicycle, stating, "I keep myself to myself. I used to integrate, but not anymore. This is not a friendly place."
From Idealistic Vision to Violent Reality
This represents a tragic departure from the scheme's original vision. When Stek Oost opened in 2018, it was hailed as one of the Netherlands' most innovative and inclusive housing initiatives. The pioneering plan, developed by Amsterdam municipality and housing corporation Stadgenoot, aimed to house 125 Dutch students and young workers alongside 125 asylum seekers from conflict zones including Syria, Eritrea, Iraq, and Iran.
The concept appeared mutually beneficial: Dutch residents would enjoy subsidised rent of just €300 monthly in an expensive city, while helping refugees integrate through weekly volunteering at language cafes, communal activities, and "buddy" partnerships. The scheme's official description promised "a safe and comfortable environment where young people and refugee status holders are building a new life together."
A Catalogue of Violence and Neglect
Instead, the reality has been one of shocking violence and systemic failure. Dutch students endured shouting, screaming, and appalling aggression. Physical evidence of disturbance included smashed glass doors and punched walls throughout the complex.
Most horrifically, a female student identified as "Amanda" was raped by her Syrian "buddy" in his room during 2019. She reported the incident to police, but the case was dropped due to "lack of evidence." Six months later, another woman lodged a complaint against the same man, who remained at the complex until his arrest in March 2022. In 2024, he received just a three-year prison sentence for both rapes.
Other residents faced different threats. A young man named Steijn was threatened with an eight-inch blade in the communal kitchen, beneath a poster proclaiming "Everybody Equal." Fights and drug dealing became commonplace, with swirling rumours of a gang rape occurring in one of the rooms.
Systemic Failures and Lack of Support
A documentary by Dutch production company Zembla exposed the full extent of the problems: pervasive violence, hopelessness, and complete lack of support for both students and refugees. Marielle Foppen of Stadgenoot admitted in the documentary that her team spent up to 36 hours weekly on site but could ensure no one's safety. "We were completely overwhelmed," she confessed. "We no longer wanted to be responsible for the safety of the complex."
The fundamental design flaws became increasingly apparent. While Dutch participants underwent rigorous selection, studied a 28-page manifesto, and committed to integration activities, refugees faced no such requirements. Kassem, a 28-year-old Syrian social work student who arrived in 2017, explained: "There was no screening process to come here, other than you had to be under 28. No assessment to see if you should be sharing in this sort of community. Just dumped here with young Dutch people and left."
British Parallels and Policy Concerns
This Dutch failure carries particular resonance for Britain as the government seeks radical solutions to move migrants from expensive hotels. Recent weeks saw 27 asylum seekers bussed under darkness to a former Army base in Crowborough, East Sussex, prompting furious local protests.
The Home Office has already experimented with student accommodation conversions. In Aberdeen, two former student halls near the city centre now house migrants from Iran, Somalia, and Eritrea. Last September, plans emerged to convert Mary Morris House, a 247-bedroom Leeds hall of residence currently housing fee-paying students, into accommodation for illegal immigrants.
Most notably, in 2024, the Conservative government leased luxury student blocks complete with gym and cinema facilities in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, to accommodate 700 migrants. This move displaced over 150 students who had signed tenancy agreements just one week before term began.
Structural Problems and Maintenance Issues
Beyond the human conflicts, Stek Oost suffered from severe physical neglect. Residents reported constantly breaking boilers and sewer failures that gushed human waste onto first-floor areas, with repairs consistently inadequate. The interior matched the exterior's depression, featuring tattered Christmas decorations, shelves spewing clothes, and abandoned prams.
Jude, a 23-year-old resident of just six months, expressed alarm after watching the documentary: "I had no idea. Because I don't know anyone here. I've not met anyone at all, though it is very noisy at night."
Wider Implications and Alternative Models
Stek Oost represents just one of approximately twenty similar complexes around Amsterdam, with mixed results depending on management and demographics. Smaller schemes with proper on-site management and higher proportions of Dutch residents reportedly function better, while larger installations consistently fail.
Startblok Elzenhagen, north of the city, has seen numerous reports of fights, drug use, assaults, and vandalism. Startblok Riekerhaven, a grim container village in the south-west, became a hotspot for prostitution, drug-trafficking, and violence before a large section burned down in November 2022.
However, not all such schemes have failed. Stek West, another Stadgenoot-managed golden building in central Amsterdam, presents a completely different story. With shining windows, potted plants, spotless floors, and careful screening of refugees, this 70:30 student-migrant ratio complex functions successfully, boasting a ten-year waiting list for Dutch applicants paying the same €300 monthly rent.
Philosophical Divides and Future Directions
The scheme's failure has exposed deep philosophical divides even within Amsterdam's famously liberal population. Ton, a retired anthropologist living near Stek Oost with his educationalist wife Anke, maintains: "These people have had a terrible time and really need help and support and to feel welcome. We need to do the right thing and the majority of people in Amsterdam are happy to receive them and give them a home."
Yet the practical reality remains stark. District chair Carolien de Heer highlighted the eviction dilemma: "Where are people supposed to go [if that happens]?" Thanks to Dutch law, evicting refugees proves almost impossible, meaning students simply leave instead.
With Stek Oost scheduled for closure in 2028, the experiment's legacy remains deeply troubling. If such an ambitious integration scheme cannot succeed in Amsterdam – arguably one of the world's most liberal and forward-thinking cities – serious questions emerge about its viability anywhere. The human cost has been immense, leaving Amanda, Steijn, and countless other residents traumatised by an idealistic vision turned violent reality.
