Daan Dekker
“I’m Daan Dekker. I’m a writer, and I live directly opposite Tata Steel. One of my most recent books is about the plant: the history of that place and the company.”
The Eternal Fire is a substantial work of 400 pages. The author moved from Amsterdam to IJmuiden in 2021. “Once you live here, the subject imposes itself.
From my study, I literally look out over the factory.” Around that same time, the first alarming RIVM report on health risks for children was published. “The debate hasn’t settled since. It goes in all directions, with supporters and opponents. As a neighbour, I wanted to understand it. My way was to go into history — to really grasp why the factory is there, how we ended up in this kind of quicksand situation. That’s how the book began.”
That search took nearly two years. Interviews, archival research, travel. “I had access to Tata Steel’s company archives, worked in regional and national archives, travelled to India — to the origins of Tata in Jamshedpur — and to northern Sweden, where hydrogen-based steel production has already begun, something Tata Steel aims to implement here as well. By immersing myself in all aspects, I began to see the dynamics of the company. That allows you to position yourself among all those opinions and find your own course.”
His conclusion is sharp. “The company has often been too late. That pattern runs throughout its entire history.”
On whether the plant should remain or close, he is ambivalent. “The company has shaped the region. Hoogovens built housing, founded sports clubs — so much in this region can be traced back to it. That creates character and community. I hope it stays — perhaps on a smaller scale — but I’m not particularly optimistic. The solution, hydrogen, is extremely complex. It requires enormous investment, it’s uncertain whether enough hydrogen will ever be available, steel prices will initially rise, and you’re competing globally with much cheaper steel. No funding comes from India, so it must come from the Dutch government. The fact that negotiations with the cabinet are dragging on is not
encouraging.”
He was granted access to the company, though with limits. “I’m not naïve. You don’t get to see everything, especially not in the present. But the fact that I could work in the archives and find things that are not favourable to the company — I see that as positive.” He draws parallels with the HUMAN documentary. “My book is more historical; those films focus on the present.
Showing all perspectives makes both the book and the series interesting.”
For him personally, the issue is never far away. “I have two children, six and two.
At an RIVM information meeting someone said: it’s simple — the closer you live, the higher the risk. At home, I drew a line on Google Maps. I live about 1.3 to 1.5 kilometres, as the crow flies, from the most hazardous installations. With a northwesterly wind, you can smell it. It gets under your skin.” At the same time, he puts things into perspective. “We hosted Ukrainian refugees from a city with a large steel plant — they actually found it remarkably clean here. Not everything is covered in black soot like it used to be. But if you have a choice, you wouldn’t want your children to grow up here their entire childhood. I don’t want to blame myself later.”
Shortly after moving to IJmuiden, he supported activist group Frisse Wind. “In hindsight, that didn’t feel entirely right — you move opposite a factory and a few months later support an activist group. I regretted that. Now, I would support them again without hesitation. Pressure on the company is necessary.
And over time, it has become clear to me that the company has, at times, been deliberately negligent. That makes it easier to take a position.”
Is it a class struggle? “You could frame it that way, but I think that’s too simplistic. Management is also constrained by structures. The real decision-making lies in India, with the owner. That distance matters. In the past, there was a strong connection with the local community. That bond has been broken.
Yet the company still appeals to that old sentiment — and that doesn’t always feel fair.”
He prefers to leave speculation about the future to journalists. “My book places the current debate in a historical perspective. That allows you to test arguments. Take the debate about closing Coke Plant 2. Tata often says: ‘we can’t close it.’ But if a problem has existed since the 1970s, you can’t delay for fifty years and then say: ‘now it can’t be closed because we can’t continue otherwise.’ That’s the factory’s problem, not that of local residents.”
His book was received surprisingly positively by former employees. “Even though I’m quite critical. I appreciate that response. From activist circles, I sometimes hear that the perspective is too much from the factory’s side. I sometimes miss empathy there — for workers and for the importance the company also has.”
What he believes is needed now is clarity. “Without clarity, tensions grow. At home we said: we’ll give it a few years, but then I want to see perspective.
I still don’t see it.”
He also hears from within that the factory is vulnerable. “A former employee of Coke Plant 2 told me that maintenance and investments have been postponed for years. You feel that this production system is nearing its limits.” On the idea that coke plants are used as leverage towards the government, he is cautious. “A lot is said, but no one outside the company knows exactly what’s going on. Strategic thinking seems logical, but real trust is only built through transparency. That’s their biggest challenge.”