Fewer than one million people live in Amsterdam. But every year, over 20 million overnight guests descend on the city. Tired of noise, trash and crowds, locals are on a mission to reclaim their city. Surprisingly, as local writer Apeksha Bhateja found, it doesn’t involve banning tourists.
Amsterdam shines in summertime. After months of gray skies, the sun makes the city joyous. But as much as the Dutch love the warmer weather, they dread what it attracts: Tourists.
Over the years, along with its reputation for world-class museums, pretty canals, sustainability creds and urban parks, Amsterdam has developed a less-than-glamorous reputation for parties, drugs, and its Red Light District. Dilara Uysal has lived in the sought-after Jordaan neighborhood for two years, and finds herself frequently getting annoyed at tourists, especially when she’s cycling. “They walk everywhere but don’t move,” says the 26-year-old. “I have to ring my bell a thousand times.”
A trainee with the municipality, she has seen queues for tourist sights become longer and longer. She also believes the sense of community in her neighborhood is fading, with local spots disappearing all too often. So what’s a city to do?
Uysal, a keen traveler, understands that people work hard to travel and look forward to visiting new places, but feels they’re only seeing a fabricated version of Amsterdam. Inspired by TikTok trends, tourists make a beeline for experiences that may not reflect true Dutch culture. “I feel sad for them that they can’t see the real Amsterdam.”
For Uysal, the dilemma with tourism stems from the fact the city is so dependent on it. “We need it, but it’s frustrating to see cafés and other neighborhood spots destroyed by high rents.” Recently, the post office also closed in Jordaan, and is now a 10-minute cycle ride away.
“The only way to retake this part of the city is to limit the number of tourists.”
- Stan Paardekooper, local resident
Nowhere are the issues more evident than in the Red Light District (De Wallen) the oldest part of the city, which hosts some 2.5 million tourists every year. 71-year-old Stan Paardekooper, a former director of the Netherlands Broadcasting Music Center and several orchestras, has lived in the area since 1992. Back then, it was quieter and more local, he says, and fewer people came just to observe the area’s sex workers. But during Paardekooper’s lifetime, bakeries, butcher shops, and vegetable sellers have been replaced by sex shops, cafés with homogenous menus, and strangely, duck stores.
“There’s a social binding between the city and its inhabitants and that’s being thrown away,” says Paardekooper who is active in citizen initiatives, keeps up-to-date on new proposals, and attends council meetings. Despite this, he was once advised by a fellow citizen at a community meeting that maybe he doesn’t belong in the city anymore. “I was furious,” he says. “I’ve been here to school. I’ve had my piano lessons here. I’ve paid my taxes. So I want to stay here.”
A citizens’ initiative, Stop de gekte op de Wallen (Stop the madness in the Red Light District) has scores of images and videos documenting trash-filled streets, drunken men and women singing and dancing outside, tourists sleeping on the sidewalks, public nudity, and other inappropriate behavior. To address this, some members undertook night watches to educate tourists. However, the advocacy group claims that businesses harassed them, blaming them for financial losses incurred by closing earlier, and they had to stop their night watch.
More than once, Paardekooper had told tourists and guides that guided tours are not allowed in the Red Light District—the ban isn’t just the windows where sex workers are, but the streets leading to them, like his. “Some don’t know about it, and some do but they do it anyway,” he says. Most apologize and say they won’t do it again, while some get angry at him, rebutting, “Are you a policeman?”
Photographing sex workers in the windows is also banned, while signs inform people of fines for public smoking, urinating, and drinking. Still, it’s not uncommon to see inebriated tourists behaving crudely.
Some residents and politicians support the idea of moving the Red Light District to other parts of Amsterdam. However, many sex workers have protested due to safety concerns—a remote location might make them more vulnerable to harassment. De Wallen is also part of the city’s history and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. “The only way to retake this part of the city is to limit the number of tourists,” says Paardekooper, so they don’t come in masses and treat it as Disneyland, he tells me.
Another proposal that residents and politicians have thrown their weight behind is banning tourists from coffee shops: The Dutch city of Maastricht has enforced a resident-only rule. Uysal agrees, sayig it might also change the image of Amsterdam and get rid of the persistent weed smell. But coffee shop owners fear that it will hit the bottom line, and there are concerns an outright tourist ban will encourage people to turn to the black market.
In 2021, the municipality Gemeente Amsterdam proposed a limit of 20 million overnight stays, after 30,000 residents signed a petition to demand action against overtourism. The city also introduced policy changes, including higher tourist taxes, EUR€100 (USD$114) fine on public smoking of marijuana, closing bars in the center two hours early, ban on guided tours in the Red Light District, and limits on cruise ships. In 2023, the marketing went as far as to tell young British tourists to stay away.
But visitor numbers did not decline. Amsterdam reported 23.7 million overnight stays in 2025, around 800,000 more than 2024. In a city with fewer than a million residents, it’s a significant burden. And in June this year, the city proposed a tourism tax increase to 20 percent between now and 2030.
Research says tourist taxes implemented by European cities do not reduce demand dramatically—as they’re simply not high enough to deter tourists.
The issue, however, isn’t tourism itself. “It’s the lack of balance between the interests of residents and visitors,” says 38-year-old resident Jacques Huppes, who is part of the citizens’ initiative Amsterdam Heeft Een Keuze (Amsterdam Has a Choice) which demands transparency from the city, and enforcement of its own policies. Last year, the group sued the city for failing to abide by its self-imposed limit of 20 million tourists.
However, the city argued in court that the 20 million limit was never legally binding—it was a policy directive for internal use. Huppes says the lawsuit remains in court in a procedural phase, and that the Dutch Association of Cannabis Retailers (NVDC) and the hospitality industry association KHN have joined the proceedings on the side of the municipality.
While this plays out dramatically in court, what’s not making news are the small businesses packing up in the wake of higher rents. After 26 years of operating from his shop on popular shopping street Haarlemmerdijk, tattoo artist Sjap Horwitz, 65, moved to a new location on Staalstraat in June. I was one of its patrons a year ago when a fellow tattoo artist, who’d also moved on, tattooed a fine line tulip on my wrist.
“Everyone’s struggling,” Horwitz tells me. The neighborhood he had spent a quarter of his professional life wasn’t as lively in the ‘80s as it is now, but its popularity increased and rents went exponential.
There was a woodshop when he moved in, but it did not survive the hikes. A historic tea shop also shut down last year after 400 years on the street. As artisans have been pushed out, more franchises, souvenir shops, coffee shops, and clothing stores have taken their place.
Horwitz also believes the problem isn’t tourists; in his case, it’s real estate greed. He doesn’t want any group to be banned and is happy that people want to enjoy the city he calls home. An ideal scenario would be if the city stepped up and brought artisans and local brands to the center to add diversity and appeak to travelers. “One souvenir shop is okay. One Nutella shop is okay,” he reasons.
Right now, there are several initiatives in place. The new left-leaning city council, appointed on June 10, has announced a number of proposals to make the city more liveable for its residents. One is to buy back buildings and businesses in the city center—the goal is to allocate revenue tax to a real estate fund and acquire properties to convert them into homes or local businesses.
Another proposed change is the jump in tourist taxes to 20 percent by 2030. Amsterdam has one of Europe’s highest tourist taxes, designed to help contribute to the maintenance of the city. The Amsterdam Heeft Een Keuze (Amsterdam Has a Choice) group that Huppes belongs to believes that hiking tourist taxes until the desired tourist number is achieved is the most effective solution as it requires little enforcement and ensures that financial benefits flow back to residents.
Tourist tax is a heavily debated subject. Bhutan has the world’s highest tourist tax at EUR$100 (USD$114) per person per day, and it has kept tourism in check. But research says tourist taxes implemented by European cities do not reduce demand dramatically: They’re simply not high enough to deter tourists. They are, however, effective in raising funds to cover the costs of management of the city, so taxpayers are not the sole contributors to foot the bill for resources shared by tourists.
The Dutch government is also planning to close Amsterdam’s sea cruise terminal, near the central station, to ease crowding from day tourists. Meanwhile, the previous government’s controversial proposal to create an Erotic Center in Amsterdam Zuid neighborhood has been scrapped. “To alleviate pressure in the city center, the municipality is focusing on small-scale initiatives,” the agreement explains. It’s also stopping promotion of the city as tourist destination, but minus any mention of banning tourists from coffee shops.
“Amsterdam remains a beautiful city, and tourists are part of what makes it vibrant and international,” Huppes concludes. Other residents, too, do not blame tourists themselves. But everyone wishes them to behave as if it is were their own home.
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Apeksha Bhateja is a freelance travel journalist with bylines in Fodor’s Travel, BBC, The Straits Times, South China Morning Post, and Condé Nast Traveller India. She’s currently based in Amsterdam, where she’s trying to integrate by riding a bike in the rain.
