The neighbourhood where I live in west Amsterdam is one of the most vibrantly diverse in the city, inhabited by people from every corner of the globe. Some are new arrivals, others are descended from parents and grandparents who came here 30 or more years ago. In the shopping mall I hear Arabic and Turkish along with Dutch, English and a smattering of other languages that I cannot readily identify. The market square is crowded with stalls selling all manner of vegetables, fish and spices, along with hijabs and abayas. The vendors call out in a mixture of Dutch and Arabic. My butcher addresses me as Abi – Turkish for “older brother” – even though he knows I am not from Turkey.

There is a sense that we are all in this together, and it is up to us to make the most of it. I see patrols of concerned neighbours who take it upon themselves to gather up rubbish that has been dropped on the streets by careless kids. Although this mix feels quite natural, this is the kind of place that Geert Wilders would describe as a multicultural hell.

The point Wilders insists on overlooking is that it is precisely this blend of people and backgrounds that has made Amsterdam unique. Amsterdammers are proud of the city’s diversity. If you read the eponymously titled book by Geert Mak, you will see that the city’s history is one of tolerance and a pragmatic approach to difference, whether religious, racial or cultural. This pragmatism is a defining Dutch quality. Visitors see coffee shops and the red light district without understanding that the tolerance that created them is what has allowed the city to thrive and become what it is today.

Wilders has long played on the fears of Dutch people, some of which appear to have deepened since the pandemic. The debates in the run-up to last month’s election were dominated by the housing crisis, the cost of living and the number of migrants and asylum seekers coming into the country.

Yet most Dutch people have little, if any, meaningful........

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