Life inside the Dutch earthquake zone

The gas that made the Netherlands rich has left towns and villages falling apart. Extraction of this rich resource from the northern region of Groningen has caused thousands of earthquakes and reduced entire neighbourhoods to building sites resembling disaster zones. It was meant to end in 2024, but now the war in Ukraine means even that hope is crumbling.

Winding canals, a classic windmill and tulips in bloom. Overschild feels like any Dutch village - until you turn to look at the houses.

In street after street homes bear the scars. Even the 19th Century church steeple features a lightning-shaped gash.

Cracks slice through stone walls and floor tiles, houses have been reinforced and propped up by huge wooden beams, a construction company truck is parked in almost every driveway.

Eighty per cent of this village needs to be completely demolished as the houses are deemed too unsafe to occupy.

"We have been treated badly. We're basically a colony of the Netherlands. They take all the wealth and we hardly receive anything in return," declares Coert Fossen, chairman of Groningen Earth Movement.

Gas extraction has caused over 1,000 earthquakes since Exxon Mobil and Shell began government-approved drilling there in 1963.

The last official estimates found the Dutch state had made €417bn (£358bn; $442bn) from this site since 1965.

Crossing a bridge, Coert explains that gas removal from the sandstone has caused the land to shift. Some of the canals that once flowed east to west changed direction. Even cows have been spotted running for shelter when a tremor strikes. He smiles, but assures me these are not just urban legends.

We are approaching a new neighbourhood, accommodation for hundreds of internally-displaced people in the Netherlands.

Coert says there are four or five of these temporary housing estates in every village.

"As people's homes are being dismantled or repaired, they move here. The risk is [that] during an earthquake their house could collapse."

Coert is himself one of hundreds of thousands of victims. In 2012, he was at home when the chair he was sitting on began shaking. Above him, he could actually hear the wooden beams that supported the structure of his house creaking.

Over a decade on, the extraction has not stopped and the Dutch government has designated hundreds of homes as acutely unsafe, with residents fighting a system that they feel has worked against them for even basic compensation.

Alongside this battle, every victim shares the same disbelief that gas continues to be removed from their land. They want to know why the wealth of a nation was put ahead of the health of its citizens.

We asked Hans Vijlbrief, minister for the extractive industries.

"If you ask how this could happen in the Netherlands… people didn't believe it. People in high places had problems believing this," he admits, referring to the initial earthquakes and damage they caused in 2012.

"This used to be something we were very proud of. It was a big thing. We got rich from it. If you want an explanation of how this could happen in this country, I think this is it."

The Groningen gas field is scheduled to close between 2023 and 2024.

But the conflict in Ukraine is forcing governments to reconsider their reliance on Russian oil and gas. Along with the rising cost of energy, there is mounting pressure within Europe to draw on reserves closer to home.

People who thought the end was in sight are facing more uncertainty.

Many residents want assurances the planned closure will go ahead.

Hans Vijlbrief won't give them.

"If you're looking for guarantees, you should go to a second-hand car dealer. The pressure on me, on the government, is huge… let's be honest, there are very big interests pushing me to open up the tap again, so to speak, but I'm not going to do it because [it's] just unsafe, it's dangerous."

Jannie and Bart Schrage's old home couldn't be salvaged.

Jannie shows us where cracks shot through their tiled floor, below the front window, along the wall. Official inspectors couldn't guarantee their home would survive another major quake.

"It made us older. A lot of stress. Heart problems… they've taken our joy. And we're trying to get on our feet again but it's difficult because you see it happen around you again and again and again."

It's a familiar story that we've heard from many families inside the Dutch earthquake zone. Jannie and Bart show us familiar ring-binders stuffed with evidence of the battles against a bureaucratic system they feel is designed to hinder rather than assist their pursuit of compensation.

In many instances, people have resorted to dipping into their own savings to ensure they live in a safe home.

This insecurity and endless battle to have their rights acknowledged has had a serious impact on mental health.

Tom Postmas, professor of social psychology at the University of Groningen, told us about a recent study that found approximately 16 people a year die prematurely in the Groningen earthquake area due to stress caused by the quakes. All of those who die before their time were found to have had damage to their homes.

"There's such a lot of wealth to be had, it's like a bonanza, so people are feeling quite powerless to stop this."

But some people who opposed any further extraction beyond 2023 have changed their minds because of the war in Ukraine and energy price rises. Many feel pressure to accept more uncertainty.

Gerry Bulthuü is renting in one of the temporary neighbourhoods, waiting for her new earthquake-resilient home to be built.

"On the one hand you don't want to leave people out in the cold, on the other hand we don't want more earthquakes."

Back in the epicentre, Coert Fossen's fight for the boreholes to be sealed up is fuelled by a sense of injustice.

"It makes me angry because there is a government which allows companies to destroy houses, people's properties and not only that but their way of living."