LECTORAAT CHANGE MANAGEMENT – De Haagse Hogeschool

I was sitting in the sauna of my gym when I suddenly realized: I want to buy an Urban Arrow bakfiets. I rushed home and told the exciting news to my partner who seemed to share the same sentiment as I did regarding the modern Dutch invention of a bike, with a curiously large cargo box in its front, and a powerful electrical motor that enables oneself and their whole gezin (family), boodschappen (groceries), and other equipment (plants/ small couch/ massage table), to be transported around the small town of Amsterdam (or other big Dutch city).

I did some research, consulted our accountant, and talked to some colleagues and friends and was very close to living the dream. I kept imagining how I would bike around town with my 4-year old kid, perhaps his friend from school, a potential dog, and a nice indoor plant I bought at Intratuin, waving at other friends and parents with a 4-year old kid, perhaps their friend from school, a potential dog, and a nice indoor plant they bought at Intratuin.

At an academic community day in Utrecht I shared my Urban Arrow dream, to which I felt frowned upon. I mentioned in a semi-self-psychoanalytic manner that I felt it was time to luxuriate myself with such a purchase (the Urban Arrow costs around five thousand euros before insurance, maintenance, etc) after many years of what I felt was a somewhat non-luxurious life in The Netherlands. I woke up daily to a fleet of Urban Arrow parents bringing their child to the same school I brought my child to by foot just outside our house in Amsterdam Oost. In a sense I wanted to be like them, even if I didn’t have a large gezin (2+ kids), and even if the LIDL supermarket was just a few more steps from our house which meant I did not need to transport boodschappen across town. I wanted to be part of what I felt was the ultimate Amsterdam Oost –and by extension, Dutch– dream.

Much has been written and discussed about De Havermelkelite (The Oat Milk Elite), and their different lifestyle choices, attempting to guarantee them a safe place in the middle-class economic and cultural sector. As Jonas Kooyman (2024), the author of De Havermelkelite defines, the oat milk elite:

“consists of twenty- and thirty-somethings from the urban middle class. They are academically educated, working in knowledge professions and are concerned with lifestyle and consumption. This is the focus of their existence. For example, they own an e-bike, frequent restaurants that serve natural wine, eat sourdough bread, wear Salomon sneakers and – as the name suggests – drink their cappuccino with oat milk.” (Koene, 2024).

On the one hand critiquing those who opt to drink plant-based replacements to cow-milk, which is part of the meat-based food industry, could sound like a right-wing critique against a large population who is trying to better their daily consumption in a responsible manner. At the same time, as they seem unable to affect change on a structural level anymore, the havermelk elite’s lost dreams of securely belonging to the middle class, together with their nostalgic left-wing revolutionary desires, are watered down and projected onto consumption objects, to imaginarily replace what used to be their purchasing power taken away from them by late-capitalistic modernity.

In any case, I am not sure when the doubt in buying the Urban Arrow started creeping in. It was hard to make sense of it all as it seemed to contain fantasies and desires beyond my immediate comprehension. Nevertheless, the doubt sipped in slowly but surely.

I began feeling uncomfortable, for example, when I started considering where I would park our Urban Arrow. As it is hard to maneuver the 263 cm long, and 63 cm wide, bike into an average Dutch bike-shed, all the (urban) arrows were pointing me to the sidewalk outside our house, next to the electricity pole, as that is where all the neighbors in the parallel streets seemed to be parking them. “But should I take so much of public urban space?”, was the immediate inner question I had. Not being a native Dutch person, and without any voting rights here (apart for municipal elections), I was somewhat unsure, if, and how much space I could take in public.

In an all-Dutch mediation like retreat day I consulted with a fellow retreat-colleague who lives close to the Dutch coast about this feeling of not wanting to take up too much space in public, to which he responded, “Why not?!, take space, ofcourse, allow yourself!”. I felt somewhat liberated by this affirmation by the fellow Dutch retreater and was set on parking the Urban Arrow on the sidewalk outside our house even if this meant that pedestrians might have less space to walk their kid, dog, or boodschappen.

Then came in the verzekering (insurance) questions and doubts. There is a handful of insurance companies waiting to insure the five thousand euros bike from any theft. In order to do this they build into the frame of the bike a GPS tracking system to track where the bike is stolen to, so that if needed, they can go to the place where the bike was stolen to, and bring it back to its rightful owners. They do this, like all good Dutch insurance companies do, for a hefty sum, which over the years amounts to the price you pay for the bakfiets itself. Mistaking the map (the insurance policy) for the territory (the bike), the map becomes larger than the territory it is supposed to protect/cover. As I was not sure I wanted to be potentially tracked by such a full-coverage mapping technology, when I mind my own business in town, I was considering if taking my eigen-risico (own risk) and remaining off the insurance GPS grid for a while might be a better move.

Then came the sheer realization that much of my Urban Arrow fantasies and dreams had to do with wanting to belong to a certain Dutch/Amsterdam culture, which felt slightly misleading as if there were no other ways to belong, or to feel belonging, to Dutch/Amsterdam culture, than biking a modern tank-like vehicle across town. I could instead, for instance, talk a bit more about the weather, sit and drink another biertje (small beer) in a terrace, when the sun visits the Amsterdam canals for a brief moment, or fill out my inkomstenbelasting (Income tax) in an anxious, yet nevertheless efficient, manner, like any other tax-paying citizen.

Then came the fitness doubts, as afterall the Urban Arrow dream came up while sitting in the sauna in the gym and I wanted to remain fit and true to the gym and sauna culture I was already somewhat part of. The gym I joined almost two years ago has proven to be a great place to let my thoughts wander to other, less knowledge-production-focused places, while I exercise. As Newson et al. (2026) have recently shown in their study of sauna culture in the UK, being part of a sauna culture and ritual improves the feeling of social connection, belonging and overall wellbeing. I myself have also noticed the sauna camaraderie of how when someone exits the sauna, they say to those remaining in it “Fijne dag verder!” (Have a nice day!), “Fijne weekend!” (Have a nice weekend!) or “Fijne zondag!” (Have a nice sunday!). And so I have made every attempt to engage in such exchanges as well to which it is always nice to hear the roaring “Het zelfde!” (The same!) in return. Observing the different riders of Urban Arrows across town I made the hasty generalization that those bikers are somewhat lazy, and remain unfit, as they rely on an electronic motor, rather than pedalling a normal bike or bakfiets to reman fit, and they probably don’t frequent the same gym and sauna that I do.

Lastly were environmental concerns regarding the extraction of natural materials involved in creating and charging the heavy-duty battery of the Urban Arrow and carrying that battery to everywhere I would go with my e-bike.

At last, almost after a month of waking up in the middle of the night not knowing what to do, I decided, together with my partner, to pull the breaks on the Urban Arrow dream, and try to belong to Dutch/Amsterdam culture in other ways. I started putting more effort in my wonderful OBA Dutch Taalcafe meetings, listen to the fun Voorheen Schaamteloos Randstedelijk (VSR) podcast in Dutch, which focuses on not-yet answered everyday modern-life questions, for example, why the Dutch word “Prima” feels so passive-aggressive and go to a Dutch-spoken thought-and guts-provoking local theater show (Koning Krump).

Was this a suitable replacement or substitute for the Uran Arrow Amsterdam Oost dream? Not really. But pulling the breaks on the dream of purchasing an Urban Arrow, at least for now (never say never), felt mobilizing, more than any electric bakfiets can. And if, the Economy (Oikonomia in Ancient Greek meaning “managing the household”) needs rethinking, than maybe coming up with new ways to transport the household might be a good place to start.

Works cited:

Koene, Jip. “For the Urban ‘Oat Milk Elite’, an 8 Euro Loaf of Bread Is Quite Normal.” Folia, 10 Sept. 2024, https://www.folia.nl/en/actueel/163050/for-the-urban-oat-milk-elite-an-8-euro-loaf-of-bread-is-quite-normal.

Kooyman, Jonas. De havermelkelite: Hoe de nieuwe yup de stad onherkenbaar verandert. Das Mag, 2024. 

Newson, M., et al. “Sauna Culture Improves Physical and Mental Wellbeing in the UK through Social Connection and Ritual.” Social Science & Medicine, vol. 394, Apr. 2026, p. 119061. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2026.119061.

Smithuijsen, Doortje and Van den Brink, Perre. “Waarom voelt prima zo passief agressief?”, Voorheen Schaamteloos Randstedelijk (VSR), 19 Feb. 2026. https://open.spotify.com/episode/5gueEjfXE6IB1UFAE3x1eN?si=zHtIEB46SVqYJGnlmyN1YQ&nd=1&dlsi=2095286aae0a4417