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The Spatial Stratification of Race

In the center of a Dutch polder, there lies a picturesque city bordered by lush grasslands and small farms. At the center is a small fortress. Beneath a bridge that marks one of only two entrance points to the city, a family of ducks cleans their feathers on a small island in the surrounding moat. Inside the Citadel, small towers and typical Dutch geveltjes, symmetrical staircase-like structures, sit atop buildings next to pointed rooftops. The city is reminiscent of eighteenth-century Dutch society. Except, this is not 1750 – it is 2010. On the official website of Krier and Kohl, the German architects who designed this fake traditional Dutch village at the beginning of 2000, is written this striking question: “What is more appropriate to satisfy a need for security, even greater after September 11, than to be part of a closed community in the midst of a medieval fortress?”.

This Citadel, located in Heemskerk, is not a unique development in the Netherlands. Since the turn of the 20th century when a similar community was built in Broekpolder, its architect, Rob Krier, carefully designed a series of other housing projects: Brandevoort in Helmond; Noorderhof in Amsterdam; Gildenkwartier in Amersfoort, and Slot Haverleij near Hertogenbosch. The Citadel and her sister communities all are comprised of an 85-90% white population, who are middle to upper-middle class. Author Robert Uhde has written that Krier's “cities-within-a-city” are  typically “characterized by high density street and square patterns, along with rhythmic variations of alternating facades...wrapped in one of the water features tracing a fictive city wall.” In some respects, Krier has become a trendsetter. More and more semi-closed neighborhoods, protected by gates and guarded by video-surveillance, are being built all over the Netherlands and Germany. With the exception of Le Medi in Rotterdam and Noordhof in Amsterdam, most of the new constructions are in medium-large sized cities, areas where the PVV (Freedom Party) leader Geert Wilders, whose political campaign was heavily rooted in anti-Islamic sentiment, won the most votes in the June 2010 elections.

Like the Citadel, the Bijlmer in Amsterdam was a planned community. Officially called Bijlmermeer, this neighborhood in the southeast section of the city is home to nearly 100,000 people who represent over 150 nationalities. It was constructed in the 1960s with the original aim of providing housing for teachers, policemen, nurses, and other members of Amsterdam's middle class. At the time, the idea of a planned community of that magnitude was so unprecedented, and the tall apartment complexes so unfamiliar to traditional Dutch notions of architecture, that white middle-class Dutch were not attracted to living there and many houses remained vacant. It was only after Surinam gained independence in November of 1975, and an influx of Surinamese migrated to Amsterdam, that these houses were finally filled. Initially, the immigrants took up residence in the cheap hostels downtown. Eventually, urban planning policies relocated these primarily black, Dutch-speaking Surinamese, who were legal citizens of the Netherlands, to the unwanted residences in the Bijlmer. Ten years later, other migrants arrived from the “ABC-islands” (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao) and then in the nineties, from Ghana and other parts of Africa. Because most of these people had dark skin, the Bijlmer came to be known in the 21st century as the 'black ghetto' of the Netherlands.

While Krier was praised for constructing the “most beautiful neighborhood of the Netherlands”, Brandevoort in Helmond, the Bijlmer has been dubbed the largest city planning failure in the country’s history. In general, the fact that more and more segregated communities like the Citadel are popping up all over the Netherlands can be taken as a sign of widespread support for this type of community. In Bijlmer, however, officials have felt the need to enact aggressive policies designed to improve the neighborhood’s aesthetic appearance and socioeconomic condition. Despite the fact that both the Citadel and its sister neighborhoods are mostly white and the Bijlmer mostly black, racial homogeneity in the Citadel is tolerated, while in the Bijlmer, this is being countered by an intensive policy to attract non-black faces to the area.

This, to our eyes, is a double standard which remains to be addressed. There is a general bias against black neighbourhoods; yet, the newer segregated communities such as Brandevoort are seldom viewed in a negative light. Why is this? Do these examples indeed represent ‘a spatial stratification of race’? And if so, are there any responses or solutions to this hitherto unquestioned double standard?

Nice and Quiet: Reasons for Choosing the Citadel

The Citadel is a planned community located in Heemskerk, approximately forty minutes train ride outside of central Amsterdam. Rob Krier is known for constructing modern, urban neighborhoods through the use of architecture which, “not unlike the American ‘New Urbanism,’ is derived from European precedents and similarly aimed at counteracting suburban sprawl.” Although Krier and his partner Christoph Kohl have practiced architecture since the 1970s, it was his recent popularity in the late 1990s that earned his style the title of “new traditionalism,” so named because it involves the construction of contemporary housing projects incorporating archaic and traditional European architectural symbols. Writing about this architectural style, author Robert Uhde comments: “Krier and Hohl strive for a reduction in scale, in order to give a unique character to individual dwellings and residential buildings. Here, the intention is to consider human scale in architecture which expresses itself in giving preference to individualized, parcelled building blocks.” This individual focus applies to people, as well as the divided housing units.

The Citadel falls just within these parameters placing emphasis upon the individual person, house, and city. Surrounded by a five-meter-wide canal that gives the appearance of a moat, the neighborhood is indeed an island, frozen in time and cut off from surrounding neighborhoods.  The silent houses look onto a bare street, and all backyards and garages are sectioned off by a metal fence with a sign that reads “Private property, do not enter.” The high fences, private access gates, canal barrier and enclosed blocks are clear indicators that the city was constructed with the intention of keeping others out. This can be better understood when taking into account the fact that the Citadel, like her sister communities, is located on the periphery of a ‘high crime’ area. Brandevoort, for example, is located just outside of Helmond, a city with a reputation for criminal activity.

Many of the people interviewed in the Citadel cited crime as the reason for wanting to live in a semi-closed community. One female visitor commented that she would prefer to have a home in the Citadel because it had less crime and a better reputation than Beverwijk, a nearby neighborhood known for small crimes. A second female resident who was waiting at a bus stop pointed to a group of red brick houses that lay outside the limits of the Citadel, describing it as a place with more crime. To the residents, the low crime rate within the Citadel enhances its attractiveness for raising children. A divorced father playing with his son near an open field commented that he comes there, where his ex-wife lives, because there is a lot of open space and his son can be free. He didn’t want to raise his son in Amsterdam, where he felt that he had to hold his son’s hand and watch him very carefully. By raising him in Heemskerk, his child is exposed to less crime. The strategic positioning of these semi-closed, isolated neighborhoods in such close proximity to criminal areas suggests behavior characteristic of white flight – the tendency of ‘whites’ to leave a neighborhood that has become increasingly ethnic, and relocate to an area with less ethnic diversity.

The role played by crime, or its lack thereof, in the Citadel is further complicated when one takes into account that this absence of crime is attributed, sometimes implicitly, to the corresponding absence of ethnic minorities. Each of the eight individuals interviewed in the Citadel agreed that the neighborhood was not ethnically diverse; in particular, they told us that there were no Moroccans living in their neighborhood.. Of the diversity that does exist, it seems to represent people of different national origins than it does people of different ethnic or racial background. Vladimir, a divorced Chilean man who was visiting his son and father in the Citadel, noted that some of the inhabitants were Spanish, Turkish and Italian, but that on the whole they were still 80-90% white.  He went on to say that culture in the Citadel is perceived differently than in the capital. In Amsterdam, he felt that he had a culture, which was one of many that were recognized there. However, in the Citadel he felt that he had a “race”; the lack of cultural diversity there resulted in his being viewed as the “other,” which scared him sometimes. The low incidence of crime and relative absence of ethnic minorities allows for a sense of racial solidarity among the Citadel’s predominantly white inhabitants, a factor which contributes to their sense of security.

Such a preoccupation with ‘security’ helps us to understand how the Citadel emerged in reaction to the existence of crime and ethnic diversity in other parts of the Netherlands. Ironically, it is precisely the rising crime rate and unwanted minority presence from which Citadel residents are seeking escape, that make the neighborhood's existence possible. Author Robert Uhbe illustrates this point, saying: “as a direct counter-thesis to globalization, increasing mobility, and the internet, projects like Brandevoort, Broekpolder [where the Citadel lies] or Haverleij are consciously aimed at urban typologies of an imaginary past”. One of the ways in which this ‘imaginary past’ is kept alive in the Citadel is through architecture. By constructing the city in a way that emulates stereotypical Dutch architecture through the use of geveltjes, towers, and swing bridges, the Citadel's inhabitants are unified under a collective Dutch identity. In Krier’s mission statement, he outlines his project as being focused on new buildings with traditional European styles. In his doctoral dissertation, PhD candidate Paul Mepschen provides further context for understanding the promotion of Dutch identity through architecture. He writes that in a multi-ethnic society, it becomes an increasingly common goal to try to “persuade people to adhere to fixed identities and notions of citizenship, to identify with any cultural heritage and perspective in a fixed or static way.” The Citadel can be understood as an example of such an attempt.

Black Power in the Bijlmer

Midway through the nineties, newspaper headlines called the Bijlmer a ticking time bomb (Groene Amsterdammer, 1996). Romeo Kotzebue, a staff member of the Kwakoe Foundation, which is a 35-year-old Surinamese cultural organization in the Bijlmer, explained that in the late eighties it was not uncommon to hear stories about robberies taking place in the tunnels and elevators of the tall building projects. As the neighborhood’s reputation quickly plummeted, speculators began wondering about the dangers of the Bijlmer turning Amsterdam into a “European Los Angeles.” While exaggerated, this fear was rooted in a deep dislike of the process of ghettoization: the low incomes and social status of inhabitants; the dependency on social welfare; the numbers of registered police complaints (20.000 in 1995, of which 2000 were robberies); the large buildings where there was little social control. In addition, there was a large presence of undocumented immigrants who were especially vulnerable to victimization because they were afraid to report crimes to the police. All of these factors made it clear to policymakers that the Bijlmer needed a dramatic set of changes, if it was to remain inhabitable.

This push to physically transform the neighbourhood was accelerated by the so-called “Bijlmer disaster,” the crash of El Al Flight 1862 into two buildings in 1992, in which a total of 43 people were killed and many more injured. In the immediate aftermath, 1500 people were considered missing. This outrageous number of missing people dominated the news for weeks. It turned out that many illegal immigrants who had lived in the buildings, and were later reported as missing by family or friends, had not dared to register themselves with officials. Others on the list were criminals on the run who masqueraded as “dead,” as an easy way to start a new life. The images of the disaster on national television, the confusion about the number of dead people, the many illegal inhabitants who were discovered to be living in the Bijlmer; all served as triggers for the call to transform the Bijlmer. In the years following the disaster, many of the skyscrapers were renovated or demolished; in fact, this renovation continues today. More expensive low-rise buildings were built to attract middle-class and upper-class residents. Large groups of people moved to new cities, such as Almere.

In 1995, the European Union decided to grant a subsidy of 26 million guilders to the Bijlmer neighborhood, as part of a project called Urban Housing. But the local community did not feel involved in the process of renewal, and resistance slowly grew. Kotzebue tells us that, once it became clear that the task groups deciding how the money would be spent were only comprised of white people – most of whom did not even live in the southeast – the renewal of the Bijlmer became a racially charged struggle for power.

At a protest meeting in February 1992 organised by Kwakoe, the group of people present decided to set up an organization of blacks who would fight the “white decision-making” that was exclusively concerned with concrete, instead of Bijlmer residents. This organization, named Zwart Beraad (black consideration), was comprised of black aldermen and spokespersons for the black community who sharply radicalized the community’s relationship with the municipal counsel for Amsterdam South. They compared the situation in the Bijlmer to the plantations that had existed in Suriname under Dutch colonization: a black majority with no power, and a very small white minority who made all the decisions. Inspired by Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and Nelson Mandela, the organization reframed the situation in Bijlmer as a problem of black against white. Within a few months, Zwart Beraad became an active participant in political gatherings, and succeeded in bringing a ‘black perspective’ to the controversy in the Bijlmer. Eventually, the policymakers themselves began to espouse the same goal: “a South-East in which black and white can feel safe and happy” (Renate Hunsel, counsel member for Green Left for the South-East, quoted in De Groene Amsterdammer).  Perhaps reflecting this success, after 1998 Zwart Beraad grew much less active.   

It's a 'Black' Problem: the Hopi-boys

A common goal had finally been set: the Bijlmer had to become an area in which black and white alike could live safely and happily. Kotzebue also points out one important change. When he first came from Suriname to live in the Bijlmer, there were large Surinamese parties every Monday evening. He wondered, “How can these people have Surinamese monday dancing so often, when they have to work the next day?” Soon, he realized that his assumption about the jobs was wrong: many people were on welfare. In the years that followed, however, welfare policies became much stricter, these unemployed were forced to look for work, and the monday dancing slowly disappeared.  

Another example of such a transformation relates to one of the most feared ‘criminal gangs’ in the Bijlmer: the so-called Hopi-boys, a group of young adolescent males named after the Hoptille-building where they live. There is some very famous footage taken in 2007 by AT5, a local television station from Amsterdam, which shows a couple of Hopi-boys carrying guns and talking about their criminal activities. These tough young black males, primarily of Caribbean background, said on camera that they earned their money from hosselen, a Surinamese word for all kinds of small crime. They displayed their impressive luxury cars and golden blingbling. According to Romeo Kotzebue, the boys admitted later that they had purposely blown their criminal behaviour out of proportion for the media attention. Today, these boys are older and wiser, and most have children and are working. Still, every time there is media coverage of the Bijlmer, images of the Hopi-boys are shown in the absence of other visual footage. Kotzebue says he can understand why ‘white outsiders’ are still afraid of the ‘black ghetto’ in Amsterdam. Many things have improved over the last few years, but the Hopi-boys example indicates that it is very difficult to counteract this image in the eyes of the outside world.   

Slowly, But Surely…

Since the end of the nineties, there has been an active policy on the part of the Bijlmer to attract medium and high-income residents for the newly built family homes, Kotzebue observed that at the tours organised by real-estate agents for possible buyers, nearly all of the interested people were native-born Dutch. While the young middle-class white families found the new houses to be attractive, their image of the Bijlmer had already been tarnished by years of negative national press, most recently about the Hopi-boys, which confirmed their fears about crime and drugs in the area. Consequently, most of them opted to live in other parts of Amsterdam. The population that ended up moving into the newly-renovated apartments and rowhouses instead was largely middle-class, educated and professional. These people tended to be Surinamese and Antillean Dutch, many of whom had lived in the Bijlmer in the early years, and were happy to return now that improvements had been made.  

Kotzebue also elaborated on the attempts being made from outside the Bijlmer to “improve” it. “There are many social programs on all kind of things to improve the Bijlmer”, he said. “But since most of the highly-educated program managers are not from South-East Amsterdam themselves, all they see is this black, scary and poor neighborhood, and think that change is needed. They craft active policies on diversification, but what they don't see is that the inhabitants of the Bijlmer are improving the neighborhood and improving themselves! They want to buy houses and try to make the neighborhood a nice and safe place.” Kotzebue gives us the anecdote of a European Union politician who came to the Bijlmer to see how the European subsidy was spent. He explored the neighborhood for a day and then asked Kotzebue, “why hasn't there been any change?” Kotzebue leans a bit forward to us and says: “To me, it was as if to say; ‘there are still black people here, nothing has changed!’ The black people living here now are working professionals, they are more and more well educated. Slowly but surely, it is changing!”

The Lack of Communication in Both Neighborhoods

One of the rare things that the Citadel in Heemskerk and the Bijlmer in Amsterdam have in common is a striking lack of communication between neighbors. In the old twelve-story buildings of the Bijlmer, with hallways that are sometimes almost a kilometer long, people just walk to their apartment and shut the door behind them as quickly as possible. Remeo Kotzebue says that neighbors rarely talk with each other, the major exception being altercations. The first interaction between new neighbors quite often begins with one neighbor’s complaining about the behaviour of the other.  

In the Citadel, there is not so much trouble between neighbors. Nevertheless, the lack of communication between people who are separated by only a single wall of concrete is striking. This can easily be observed if one just walks to the center, where the shops and cafés can be found. You scarcely see any people: bars are empty, you barely hear the sound of a car, and children are heard only when going to school. The Citadel might be called a bedroom community; the inhabitants work elsewhere, only coming home to eat and sleep. One cannot even find elderly people outside to demonstrate that there is an actual population living inside this fortress. The small gardens in back of the houses are surrounded by high fences, as if intended to inhibit interactions among neighbors.

A young woman, waiting for a bus, said that since moving to the Citadel a year ago, she has only spoken with one other woman, who also is new in the area. The earliest wave of residents from the time that the houses were first built get along with each other, but according to this woman, it is difficult to get to know them. That this friendly young woman in the prime of her life hardly communicates with the people living right next door, says a lot. An older woman who is letting her dog out says, a bit shamefacedly, that she only talks to one neighbor. Even here, the fact that she does not even know if this neighbor is Turkish or Moroccan underscores the scarcity of their conversations. She tells us that she does not have a job, and feels a bit lonely during the day, so she walks her dog in order to chat with other dog owners.

The city center in Bijlmer, while a bedroom community, is a bit different. When you come to the center, the atmosphere is alive: the shops are full of people, others are sitting outside eating an ice cream, lots of children play on the small square. Yet, they are not very willing to speak about how they experience the area they live in. While walking through the neighborhood, you can sense a huge difference between the last surviving group of older flats which await renovation, and the much more compact and better-designed new buildings. People are sitting outside these new houses, playing cards or having a beer with the man from next door. There are benches in front of the houses, and the little private front yards are well maintained.

It’s All About Space

In response to the question of whether architects can contribute to integration, Jaap Huisman, a journalist who specializes in architecture, replies that this is almost never the architect’s explicit goal. In poor areas with a great deal of social housing, you can observe efforts made by architects to attract high-income houseowners. But ultimately, it is not the architect that designs society. Huisman suspects that within five years newly built neighborhoods like the Citadel will have become more mixed due to demographic changes in Dutch society, resulting in new generations of migrants who wish to live in an attractive, safe neighborhood.  

According to Huisman, the factor in urban planning that is most responsible for either integration or segregation is public space. The Bijlmer was originally designed as a utopia, with high buildings separated by very large parks. “But it is not an utopia when you live on the 12th floor and you see that you car on the street is being vandalized and you can not come down fast enough to stop it”. One of the community’s strong points is its parks, sport fields and swimming pools. Yet, the planners built these on such a scale that public safety could not be maintained. As a consequence of this failure, the government no longer wished to make an effort to maintain the public space; the new policy became to promote houses that had their own tiny private gardens, each surrounded by a fence – just like in the Citadel. In reality, however, what people need is a sustainable public space, where they can feel safe.  

To diversify a neighborhood also relates to a house’s internal space. Huisman tells us about a study conducted about the housing preferences of Ghanian inhabitants of the Bijlmer. Interestingly, the Ghanians desired the same kind of house as other Dutch, but did not want open roofs and gardens that would let in sun because they don’t like to sunbathe. Rather than have the house face towards the sun, they would prefer it to face north to reduce the amount of light. Many such examples abound. For instance, Islamic families desire separate kitchens, because they don’t want people to be able to look in on the cooking. The interior is ultimately just as important as the exterior..  

One good thing about neighborhood renovations and new building projects today is that architects listen to consumers much more than they used to. This is in huge contrast to how the Bijlmer was designed, with no analysis of who would actually work and live there. At the time, there was an enormous optimism regarding planning. Fortunately, today much research is conducted, and developers even consult anhropologists. Finally, Huisman concludes, the planning of space must take into account the passage of time: “It has to grow, the Bijlmer is only 45 years old, Amsterdam already 700 years”.

Moving Towards Diversity

Recent efforts have been made to counter the image of the Bijlmer as a threatening, all-black neighborhood. Unemployment has dropped and small steps have been taken towards stricter governance of public space, such as laws which prohibit groups of more than four from gathering at night. Buildings have been made lower and smaller to facilitate positive communication between neighbors.

The Citadel’s architects firmly believe that “the future of the city lies in social re-dimensioning of architecture, in the resuscitation of the neighborhood or the district, which unites different functions of social life within it.” However, one must ask: unification for what purpose? Often – as in the case of the Citadel – social unification among neighbors is only used as a way of uniting them against a common enemy: the ever-threating ‘other’ who lives beyond the city limits. Krier's planned community creates a situation in which polarization based on color becomes increasingly common; where blackness and its connotations of drugs, crime, and delinquency represents the dangerous ‘over there’, while efforts are increased to secure and protect those ‘over here’ within the walls of the Citadel. This ideology of fear leads to an artificial sense of security, by bringing people closer to a romanticized past as an alternative to interacting with, living beside, and learning from the increasingly mixed cultures present in the Netherlands.

The largest obstacle facing all neighborhoods – black or white – is that residents lack daily interaction with people who are different from them. In the course of our research, we became aware of a paradox: while inhabitants of the Bijlmer as well as the Citadel desire a better relationship with their neighbors, at the same time, nothing is done to change this. Each neighbor is waiting on the other to make the first move; meanwhile, time passes and an even larger gap forms between them. Not so long ago, neighbors were viewed like close relatives, as people who were there to help whenever something happened. Today, the situation is completely different. People living right beside you are viewed as intruders. It is important to be able to observe positive relationships between neighbors in order to appreciate how honest human relationships can be created. Communication serves as the bridge between people. Thus, a simple community measure, something as minor as adding benches in front of houses, could do wonders for neighborhood interaction. 

Such a lack of daily interaction as the one described in these communities ultimately contributes to an understanding of the ‘other’ fueled by racial stereotypes, depictions in the media, and generalizations. In an increasingly globalized world characterized by more and more diverse societies, one could argue that ethnically and socio-economically mixed neighborhoods would constitute the most sustainable environments. Yet instead, in the Netherlands we witness that people from the same ethnic backgrounds tend to live nearby each other. In the case of the Bijlmer, this is seen as problematic; meanwhile, in instances of “white flight” – which we consider the basis for communities like the Citadel – the ethnic homogeneity that characterizes these newlybuilt areas has never been challenged. Of course, the two neighborhoods we have attempted to compare are very different. Nevertheless, they have a theme in common: fear. The Citadel can be viewed as a kind of answer to the rapidly changing world that frightens people, whereas the Bijlmer attempts to overcome its image as a dangerous neighborhood. While the forced diversification of neighborhoods is not a viable solution, we also believe that the way in which they are designed should not contribute to the already-existing fears stemming from a more globalized world. Diversity-related policies need not apply exclusively to predominantly black communities such as the Bijlmer; they should also reach the white, semi-closed neighborhoods like the Citadel and Brandevoort, where racial homogeneity often goes ignored and is seen as the necessary price for safety and security. Even more important than the measures themselves, in our opinion, is that people know their neighbors regardless of ethnic background. When people fail to interact with others on their own street, they will ultimately grow more frightened of the rapidly changing world outside. Therefore, social programs and public spaces facilitating interaction should not only be instituted in the all-black neighborhoods, but everywhere. Both the Bijlmer and the Citadel should become “nice and safe areas” for inhabitants in outdoor public spaces just as much as inside.

Earlier, we cited Jaap Huisman’s statement that the key to effective city planning lies not so much in architecture but in proper governance of public space. This public space could help to provide some dialogue between the paradoxical needs of satisfying individuals on the one hand, and developing a sense of community on the other. The presence of housing units small enough to encourage daily interaction between neighbors, coupled with well-maintained public spaces that are not overly large, and where residents can walk, feel safe and raise their children, would help to balance these individual and community needs. Private gardens and yards, while they may protect the needs and desires of individual residents, simply do not promote such cohesion.. Rather, it is among the places where people walk their dogs, children play, and sports teams practice, that such unity is established. These places, once properly protected, become the fertile ground for neighborhood interaction. If we wish to address the “double standard” discussed above and witnessed in places like the Citadel and the Bijlmer, placing a renewed emphasis on the value of public spaces may represent an essential first step.



Crowder, K. “The Spatial Dynamics of White Flight: The Effects of Local and Extralocal Racial Conditions on Neighborhood Out-Migration.” American Sociological Review, 73(5), 792-812.

Uhde, Robert. New Old City, Rob Krier and Christophe Kohl. DBZ Deutsche BauZeitschrift (June 2004) 106-111.

Huisman, J. “Waarom is Rob Krier zo hot in Nederland?” April 6, 2008. Downloaded June 25, 2010 on: http://www.jaaphuisman.nl. 

Mepschen, P. “Erotics of Persuasion, Sexuality and the Politics of Alterity and Autochthony.” 2009. Downloaded June 25, 2010 on: http://home.medewerker.uva.nl/p.j.h.mepschen/.

“Zwart zijn is ons wapen,” De Groene Amsterdammer, October 30, 1996.

“Hopi-boys in Bijlmer inmiddels stukje ouder en wijzer,” Nieuw Amsterdams Peil, October 9, 2009.

“Planfilosofie Brandevoort: 'ieder huis een eigen gezicht',” gemeente Helmond, date unknown.


Krier & Kohl. http://www.krierkohl.com

The Citadel. http://www.citadel-wonen.nl

Brandevoort. http://www.brandevoort.nl

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HIA Program:

Netherlands Netherlands 2010


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