Potret: https://eji.org/report/transatlantic-slave-trade/origins/#slavery-in-the-americas

When we speak of the Dutch Golden Age, the narrative often highlights innovation, trade, and maritime dominance that transformed the Netherlands into a global power. The image is romantic: merchant ships crossing oceans, Amsterdam’s canals bustling with commerce, and global trade routes tied together by Dutch ingenuity. But that legacy is also built on a darker foundation—not of gold or spices, but of human lives. The ‘West India Company’ (WIC) and later private traders were responsible for the transport of an estimated 600,000 enslaved Africans to the Americas. The story of the Dutch empire is incomplete without acknowledging this brutal and systematic business of slavery.

This was not an accidental byproduct of colonial expansion. The Dutch slave trade was organized, calculated, and immensely profitable. Enslaved individuals were bought on the West African coast for around 75 florins each, using European goods like textiles, firearms, trinkets, and alcohol. These individuals were then forced aboard ships under inhumane conditions and transported across the Atlantic. Once in Dutch colonies like Suriname, Curaçao, or Sint Eustatius, they were sold—often for 500 to 600 florins, depending on age, health, and labor potential. That meant an average profit of 425 florins per person—a staggering return in any era. In today’s currency, that equals around $11,723 per person, bringing the estimated total profit from the sale of enslaved people alone to $2.98–3.2 billion in modern value.

But the story doesn’t end there. After being sold, enslaved Africans were forced to work on plantations producing goods like sugar, coffee, tobacco, and cotton—commodities that fed European consumer markets and funneled even more wealth into Dutch coffers. Suriname, in particular, became a major export economy based on slave labor. Sugar plantations produced tens of thousands of kilos annually, and coffee exports reached millions of kilos by the late 1700s. Historians estimate that the profits from these products—cultivated by enslaved labor—added another $5.1 to $5.3 billion in equivalent modern value. This brings the total economic gain from Dutch slavery—not just from the sale of people, but from their forced labor—to well over $8 billion in today’s terms.

This enormous wealth helped shape the physical and institutional architecture of the Netherlands. Profits from slavery funded canals, financed banks, boosted commerce, and built homes, churches, and city halls—many of which still stand today. By the end of the 18th century, researchers estimate that 5% of the Dutch Republic’s GDP came directly from slavery. In the province of Holland, the figure was as high as 10%. Even more striking, some studies suggest that up to 40% of Dutch economic growth in the 1770s can be traced back to slavery and related commerce. Slavery wasn’t a side activity—it was a pillar of the Dutch economic miracle.

It’s important to say what this article is not. This is not a denial of Dutch achievements in science, art, trade, or engineering. The Netherlands has every right to be proud of many aspects of its history. But we must tell the whole story—and that means recognizing that a significant part of the nation’s success was financed by the buying and selling of human beings, and by the sweat and blood of those forced to work under conditions we now rightly call crimes against humanity. Forgetting that is to forget the people who paid the highest price for Dutch prosperity.

Understanding the business of slavery isn’t just about the past—it’s about truth, dignity, and responsibility. The profits were calculated. The ships were scheduled. The lives were priced. And the money flowed. That legacy did not simply vanish. It shaped Dutch institutions, influenced generational wealth, and helped position the country where it stands today. Facing that reality doesn’t diminish Dutch identity—it deepens it, roots it in honesty, and creates space for recognition, remembrance, and reparative action.

So, when we walk along the canals of Amsterdam or admire the merchant houses of Middelburg, we must remember what made them possible. Behind every brick, behind every ledger, behind every gilded crest—there were chains. There were names never recorded. Bodies lost at sea. And profits counted in silence.