Marked for Death by Geert Wilders

Author:Geert Wilders
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Regnery Publishing
Published: 2012-04-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Conquest

In matters of principle, stand like a rock.

—Thomas Jefferson

I knew I was in trouble as soon as I noticed the three Arab youths following me. I wanted to cross the street, but there was another group of them waiting on the other side. Like predators tracking their prey, they had probably been following me for a while, assuming from my suit that I had money. When they caught up with me, they sprayed some sort of gas in my face, causing intense pain and blinding me. I fell on the pavement as they beat me, grabbed my wallet, and ran off.

As I lay on the ground, three young women rushed to me and asked if I was okay. “I can’t see anything,” I cried out, my throbbing eyes already swelling up. I gave them the address of a friend who lived nearby. They found him, and he took me to get medical attention. It was not the first time I had been robbed, nor would it be the last, but it was the only time I ended up in the hospital.

A few weeks later, a colleague picked me up at my home. “My God, Geert, why the hell do you stay in this neighborhood?” he asked. “I’ve been living here longer than they have,” I replied. “They won’t drive me out.” I confess—I am stubborn. The harder people make it for me, the more I persist. That’s how I survived in Kanaleneiland for twenty years.

I moved to Kanaleneiland (Canal Island), a borough of Utrecht, in early 1985. From there, it is a short commute to Amsterdam as well as to The Hague, where in 1990 I began working as a staff assistant for the Volkspartij voor Vrijheid en Democratie (People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy, or WD) in the Dutch Parliament.

In 1997, I became a WD member of the Utrecht city council. The following year, I was elected as a WD representative to the Tweede Kamer, the Dutch House of Representatives. I represented my native province of Limburg, so I moved back to Venlo. But I still spent half my time at the Kanaleneiland apartment because it was an easy commute to The Hague. Those were my living circumstances until November 2004, when the police began putting me in safe houses for my own protection.

Kanaleneiland was built up in the 1960s to accommodate 30,000 people in modern and relatively cheap housing. When I first moved to the district, it was predominantly populated by native-born, blue-collar and middle-class Dutch residents. The locals initially welcomed immigrants, and this was expected; Dutchmen, whether lower class or middle class, are famously tolerant of newcomers and of alternative lifestyles. But as they began arriving in greater numbers, it became clear that many Islamic immigrants, unlike previous immigrant groups, adamantly refused to assimilate. Some of the newcomers, mostly of Moroccan origin, demanded that the non-Muslim natives adapt to their culture, not the other way around.

As Islam expanded, crime spread throughout the district—cars were vandalized, people were robbed, and eventually Dutch women no longer felt safe in the streets.

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