Colonial Crossroads: Comparing British and Dutch Historical Legacies in London and Jakarta

London wears its imperial history like a well-tailored suit—structured, intentional, and designed to impress. The city's grandest institutions—from the Houses of Parliament to Buckingham Palace—were built to project power outward to the colonies. By contrast, Jakarta's colonial architecture represents power imposed from elsewhere, with Batavia (Jakarta's colonial name) designed as an administrative outpost of the Dutch East Indies Company.

Walking through Westminster, I was struck by how Britain's imperial narrative remains central to its national identity. The Churchill War Rooms and Imperial War Museum frame colonialism within broader narratives of British resilience and triumph. Meanwhile, in Jakarta's Fatahillah Square, Dutch colonial buildings have been repurposed as museums that tell a story of Indonesian independence and resistance.

For this trip, I relied heavily on my waterproof notebook for field notes during Jakarta's unexpected downpours and London's notorious drizzle. The ability to jot down observations regardless of weather proved invaluable as I compared architectural details and historical plaques across both cities.

No exploration of colonial legacies would be complete without examining the museums that house imperial collections. The British Museum stands as perhaps the world's most controversial repository of colonial acquisitions—from the Rosetta Stone to the Parthenon Marbles and countless artifacts from former colonies. During my visit, I joined a 'Collecting Histories' tour that attempts to address the problematic origins of certain exhibits.

In Jakarta, the Museum Nasional (National Museum) tells a different story—one of reclaiming cultural heritage after independence. Its collections include items returned from Dutch museums alongside artifacts that remained in Indonesia. The contrast between these institutions reveals fundamentally different relationships with colonial pasts.

As someone who studies conservation ethics, I found these museum visits intellectually challenging. I recorded my observations using a digital voice recorder to capture my immediate reactions and the informative commentary from guides. This allowed me to engage fully with the exhibits while preserving my thoughts for later reflection.

As a conservation scientist, I'm particularly interested in how colonial resource extraction shaped landscapes and continues to influence environmental management today. In London's Kew Gardens, I explored the Economic Botany Collection, which documents how plants were systematically collected from colonies to fuel British industrial and pharmaceutical development. The magnificent Palm House stands as a physical embodiment of imperial botany—housing tropical species from across the former empire.

In Indonesia, Dutch colonial policies fundamentally altered landscapes through plantation agriculture. The famous Bogor Botanical Gardens (just outside Jakarta) were established in 1817 as a center for agricultural research to maximize colonial profits through cash crops like rubber, coffee, and sugar. Today, these gardens serve conservation purposes but retain the spatial organization imposed during colonial times.

During my fieldwork in both locations, my plant identification guide proved invaluable for understanding the global movements of species during colonial periods. I was also grateful for my anti-mosquito clothing while exploring Jakarta's outdoor historical sites, as mosquito-borne diseases remain an environmental health legacy of colonial-era water management practices.

Perhaps the most enduring colonial legacies are embedded in the very layouts of London and Jakarta. London's urban plan reflects its status as the imperial metropole—grand boulevards connecting government buildings, cultural institutions, and royal residences in a deliberate display of power. The city's financial district still occupies the same space where colonial trading companies like the East India Company once operated.

Jakarta's urban structure reveals Dutch colonial priorities: the walled European quarter (now Kota Tua) separated from indigenous neighborhoods, with canals modeled after Amsterdam. This segregated planning created enduring patterns of development that persist in modern Jakarta's stark socioeconomic divides.

Navigating these complex urban environments required good preparation. I relied heavily on my foldable city maps when my phone battery died in London's winding streets. For Jakarta's more challenging navigation, I used the translation earbuds to communicate with locals about directions and historical context when my Indonesian vocabulary fell short.

Food provides one of the most accessible windows into colonial histories. In London, the proliferation of curry houses, particularly along Brick Lane, reflects the complex relationship between Britain and its former South Asian colonies. What began as adapted dishes for colonial administrators returning from India has evolved into a distinct Anglo-Indian cuisine that reveals migration patterns following decolonization.

Jakarta's food scene similarly reflects Dutch colonial influence through fusion dishes like risoles (Dutch-influenced croquettes) alongside indigenous Indonesian cuisine that survived colonial pressures. The famous rijsttafel ("rice table")—an elaborate Dutch colonial-era feast featuring dozens of Indonesian dishes—represents how colonizers appropriated and reformatted local culinary traditions.

During my culinary explorations, I documented flavor profiles and ingredient histories in my food journal, which has special sections for noting cultural contexts of dishes. To manage the sometimes intense spices in both British curry houses and Indonesian warungs, I kept digestive aids handy—proving useful after particularly adventurous meals in Jakarta's street food markets.