{"id":198619,"date":"2026-06-30T15:07:55","date_gmt":"2026-06-30T13:07:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.erasmusmagazine.nl\/en\/?p=198619"},"modified":"2026-06-30T16:31:59","modified_gmt":"2026-06-30T14:31:59","slug":"broederliefde-en-de-kapsalon-zijn-het-culturele-erfgoed-van-de-toekomst","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.erasmusmagazine.nl\/en\/2026\/06\/30\/broederliefde-en-de-kapsalon-zijn-het-culturele-erfgoed-van-de-toekomst\/","title":{"rendered":"\u2018Broederliefde and the kapsalon are the cultural heritage of the future\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Paul van de Laar, professor of Urban History, is retiring after nearly thirty years. In his farewell lecture, he put Rotterdam on the sofa. The city is searching for a new identity but is struggling to break free from its cultural self-image as the hard-working port city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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At his farewell, Paul van de Laar investigated Rotterdam’s psyche.<\/p><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy closing rap was a hit, or so they say\u201d, Paul van de Laar proudly emails after delivering his farewell lecture on the final Friday of May. Instead of ending with a conventional conclusion, the Professor of Urban History finished his lecture with a rap summarising the soul of Rotterdam. \u201cBeneath the hashtag mi have een droom lies a cosmopolitan longing: a super-diverse city for everyone. But dreams \u2013 can they be engineered?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Symbol of the new Rotterdam<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

A week later, in Grand Caf\u00e9 Loos, Van de Laar explains why he chose to end his lecture with a rap. One of his PhD candidates is researching hip-hop in Rotterdam, and when he co-authored the book De echte Rotterdammer komt van buiten<\/em> with Peter Scholten, he realised just how revealing hip-hop is as an expression of diversity. \u201cMigration research is always about social factors, language, integration or values and norms. In a super-diverse city like Rotterdam, you see all those different cultures coming together in youth culture and naturally blending in the music.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Broederliefde is a fantastic example, says Van de Laar. \u201cThe members are of Cape Verdean, Cura\u00e7aoan and Dominican descent, they sometimes wear djellabas simply because they are comfortable, and their music contains all sorts of cultural influences.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rap group broke records in 2016 with the album Hard Work Pays Off 2<\/em> and won an MTV Award. The single \u2018Jungle\u2019 became a massive hit and the most-streamed track on Spotify. That year, Broederliefde seemed to be playing from every window in Rotterdam, whether it was a student room in Kralingen or a car on West-Kruiskade. \u201cIn academia, hip-hop is often not regarded as culture, but in Rotterdam it certainly is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hip-hop connects and blends cultures. \u201cRotterdam is not just De Doelen, the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra or the port barons. Think of the portrait of Winne at Kruisplein too. These are symbols of the new Rotterdam.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kapsalon index<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

After almost thirty years as Rotterdam\u2019s urban historian, Van de Laar has retired as professor emeritus. As a farewell gift, colleagues presented him with a portrait by Nathan van der Veer, who is known for drawing portraits of both famous and lesser-known Rotterdammers. It will hang in his study, \u201cbecause there\u2019s no room left in the living room next to the portrait of my wife\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\t

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\n\t\t\u2018Perhaps we need a kapsalon index that is taken into account when redesigning the city\u2019\n\t<\/blockquote>\n\n\t<\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>\n\n\n\n

In the illustration, Van de Laar is surrounded by symbols and objects referring to his career, with a large kapsalon prominently at the centre.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 2011, Van de Laar gave a Studium Generale lecture on the socio-cultural significance of the kapsalon and afterwards was regularly contacted by the media to comment on the popular snack. \u201cEvery now and then someone in Amsterdam would claim they had invented the kapsalon and I would have to respond\u201d, he says with a laugh. But the research was serious, he insists. \u201cThere is hardly any social hierarchy in snacking. Everyone eats a bitterbal now and then. The threshold for starting a snack bar is low for entrepreneurs.\u201d The kapsalon is also an example of cultures blending in a super-diverse city. The snack has become part of Rotterdam\u2019s identity. \u201cBroederliefde and the kapsalon are the cultural heritage of the future.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Its widespread presence in Rotterdam\u2019s streets also creates challenges for medical professionals, politicians and urban planners. \u201cIt\u2019s a serious public health issue. There are 25 snack bars within less than a kilometre on Schiedamseweg in Delfshaven. Perhaps we need a kapsalon index<\/em> that is taken into account when redesigning the city.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Generalist<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Van de Laar was born in Amsterdam, went to school in Utrecht and came to Rotterdam to study Social History. After secondary school, he first worked in an administrative role at Douwe Egberts. \u201cI didn\u2019t know what I wanted to study because I found everything interesting: economics, law, sociology, politics, history. But university colleges didn\u2019t exist yet.\u201d Although he promised his manager that he would complete the company\u2019s internal accountancy training, he chose Social History instead. \u201cIt had a specialisation in History and Communication, and I found public relations and information services interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After graduating, he did not go into communications but chose business history instead, moving from research into maritime finance and the port to urban history. \u201cIt was seen a bit as a hobby field. It also sounds rather dusty, so I like to call it science fiction of the urban past.\u201d He always remained a generalist. \u201cThat\u2019s the beauty of urban history: I look at different subjects from a range of disciplines. Whether it\u2019s hip-hop, the kapsalon or the role of the port.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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For nearly thirty years, Van de Laar was the<\/em> urban historian for Rotterdam: “I think it is an incredible city, but it is also my job to hold up a mirror.”<\/p><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Rotterdam clich\u00e9s<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The port plays a major role in Rotterdam\u2019s collective psyche, Van de Laar argues in his farewell lecture. At the end of the nineteenth century, the image of the Transitopolis emerged. Rotterdam as a transit port shaped the city\u2019s appearance, economic model and cultural self-image. That was when the clich\u00e9s of the working city, rolled-up sleeves and \u2018actions, not words\u2019 came into being. The drive for modernisation during post-war reconstruction also fits the logic of the Transitopolis, and Van de Laar suspects that Rotterdam would have transformed into a city of transport even without the economic depression of the 1930s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A century later, around 1970, that image began to shift. \u201cNew generations became increasingly critical of the port.\u201d There were growing calls to preserve old neighbourhoods. Rotterdam had to become an attractive place to live, a cultural city, a hedonistic city lounge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Race to the bottom<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, the port became increasingly detached from the city, both physically \u2013 as it moved further towards the sea to accommodate ever larger oil tankers and container ships \u2013 and economically. \u201cThe municipality is still the major shareholder in the Port of Rotterdam Authority, but the real decisions are made elsewhere\u201d, says Van de Laar. \u201cThe largest container terminal operator is a Chinese conglomerate headquartered in Hong Kong. Shell may be Dutch, but decisions are made in the United Kingdom. Rotterdam is no longer in control of its port.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He argues for a radically different vision for the port, developed together with other major ports in Western Europe. \u201cCreate an economically and ecologically sustainable model together with Antwerp, Hamburg and Bremen. European ports are currently being played off against one another by major global players. Chinese companies say: oh, you don\u2019t want to dredge the Elbe any further? Then we\u2019ll just go to Rotterdam. Ships keep getting bigger, which means more dredging, putting enormous pressure on the landscape.\u201d It is an unsustainable race to the bottom with enormous ecological consequences. \u201cWithout a shared vision for a sustainable future for Europe\u2019s ports, it will never end. Perhaps a smart port should also be a small port.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\t

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\n\t\t\u2018Do you think people in fourteenth-century Florence said to each other: how does it feel to be living through the Renaissance?\u2019\n\t<\/blockquote>\n\n\t<\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>\n\n\n\n

He is sceptical about the port\u2019s sustainability ambitions. \u201cWhen businesses loudly proclaim that we are in the middle of a transition, you should be sceptical. They are stakeholders with their own interests. Do you think people in fourteenth-century Florence said to each other: how does it feel to be living through the Renaissance? No, you only know that afterwards.\u201d Van de Laar calls them \u201cGattopardo transitions\u201d: everything has to change so that everything stays the same. \u201cPernis has to become greener so that Rotterdam can remain the region\u2019s leading energy hub and transit port.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although Rotterdam is trying to find a new identity, the port continues to dominate its imagery, he says. \u201cThat narrative of the working city is so dominant: \u2018Here beats the city\u2019s heart.\u2019 Metaphors rooted in the port are still being used. Even the image of a city constantly reinventing itself is a legacy of the Transitopolis.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Experimental drive<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Van de Laar\u2019s broad interests also took him into the museum world. In 2001, he became Head of Collections at Museum Rotterdam, then still known as the Historical Museum Rotterdam, and from 2013 to 2020 he served as its director. Museum Rotterdam provided a welcome contrast to academia. \u201cTo succeed, academics have become increasingly specialised. I was able to focus much more on publications for the general public, heritage research and creating experimental exhibitions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He is still immensely proud of his first exhibition on the history of the city. Visitors were guided entirely by computer through the exhibition using images and music. \u201cBut perhaps I was ahead of my time, because it was 2003. Someone wrote in the visitors\u2019 book: which idiot came up with this?\u201d That experimental spirit has always been part of him, he says. \u201cIf you design an exhibition for people with a museum pass, you go for predictability and there is no innovation. I\u2019m certain we would have won an award for the most innovative urban history exhibition if we had been able to stage it in a larger venue.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harsh words<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

His time as director of Museum Rotterdam ended less happily. After several years without a permanent location, the museum moved, more or less by necessity, into the newly opened Timmerhuis. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t suitable for holding exhibitions, but we were a pop-up museum, so in the end you choose a permanent location.\u201d Visitor numbers were disappointing, and in 2020 the Rotterdam Council for Art and Culture issued a painful recommendation: the museum should close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\t

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\n\t\t'As a director, you stick your neck out, so you know it might get chopped off'\n\t<\/blockquote>\n\n\t<\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>\n\n\n\n

The recommendation came with harsh words. The museum was said to lack a coherent vision. \u201cMuseum Rotterdam, as it is now, under its current name: we\u2019re done with it\u201d, Council chair Jacob van der Goot told NRC<\/em>. \u201cI believe we had fantastic ideas\u201d, says Van de Laar. \u201cIt\u2019s just that we had ambitions that the municipality could not or would not support.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The harsh criticism itself did not affect him that much, he says. \u201cI understand that it served a purpose: if funding stops and a museum has to close, it\u2019s important that this is made clear. And as a director, you stick your neck out, so you know it might get chopped off.\u201d What did cause sleepless nights was: \u201cKnowing that staff were losing their jobs because the museum had to close. That really stays with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sweet shop owner<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Grand Caf\u00e9 Loos is next to Veerhaven, at the end of Parklaan. Van de Laar wanted to meet there because of the sculpture group featuring busts of prominent Rotterdammers. \u201cEveryone always comes up with the same list: Van Rijckevorsel, Mees, Hoboken, Van Beuningen.\u201d Those four gentlemen all have a place in the sculpture group, but Van de Laar, who served on the committee, is especially pleased with number five: Louis Jamin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor Rotterdam\u2019s upper classes, Jamin is still a bit of a parvenu. A sweet shop owner!\u201d Yet he is important to Rotterdam, Van de Laar argues. \u201cEveryone in the Netherlands knows Jamin\u2019s sweet shops. To me, Jamin symbolises Rotterdam as the country\u2019s second city. We\u2019re second but try harder. I think Rotterdam is an incredible city, but it is also my job to hold up a mirror.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\t

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