In the 1970s, a wave of terror swept through Europe. A wave that claimed far more victims in our regions than the Islamic violence to date. During literature festival Winternachten, from 18 to 22 January in The Hague, it is about the struggle for freedom, about us against them.
On Saturday afternoon, 21 January, Frank Westerman and Mohsin Hamid will discuss the question: 'What are the right words and deeds now to win the battle of ideas from fundamentalists?' Both authors have published books on terror in recent years. Mohsin Hamid describes in The Fall of a Fundamentalist How a successful American of Pakistani descent comes to a desperate act due to circumstances. Frank Westerman goes into A Word and Word into the lessons the Netherlands learned from the actions of the South Moluccans in the 1970s.
Psychiatrists
In the book, he describes the then-famous Dutch Approach, which consisted of negotiating with hostage-takers or train hijackers by specialists, often psychiatrists. Such negotiation has since become a profession, often used effectively in threatening situations. In the 1970s, however, the Dutch Approach was also severely tested.
Frank Westerman experienced the Moluccan hostage-taking actions in Drenthe at close quarters. One of the hijackers of the train in Wijster was a teacher at his primary school and Dicky Helaha, the leader of the suicide commando that carried out an action at the Provincial House in Drenthe in 1978, was a schoolmate at Assen secondary school: 'He actually wanted to become a teacher. Instead, he goes to work in the cannery to save money for weapons. He manages to get hold of seven firearms and, together with two comrades, does shooting practice at the Zeijerverld. On the day itself, he walks past the school, just in the morning, to buy seven-up or something. That he then calls a taxi, puts a gun to the taxi driver's head and starts that county hall hostage-taking. With his friends. After posting themselves as suicide bombers.'
Bizarre
It remains a bizarre thought for Westerman, whose book 'Een woord, een woord' looks at how the Netherlands dealt with terrorist violence in those years. 'How did we respond to that as a community? On a small scale in Assen, think football field, church, school, on the streets? Let's think carefully: what went wrong then, and what went right then? How to deal with attackers who are thus not shy of sacrificing themselves too?'
The question, of course, is whether we learned from the Moluccan actions back then. Are the Moluccans of then comparable to the Jihadists of today? 'Of course not in terms of their cause and also in terms of the era,'Westerman is very adamant. 'The 1970s do differ from today. The whole specific story of KNIL soldiers who were brought here, ended up between shore and ship, were put away in former concentration camp Vught and durchgangslager Westerbork, among others. The suffering of the parents and the second generation then growing up. If you compare this 1 to 1 and would like to compare it to Islamic terror, then something is really going wrong.'
Never take the train again
There are similarities for the population, though. I myself have also forgotten how much fear there was back then. Westerman refreshes my memory: "How many people I spoke to who said, "I didn't go by train for years." Or, "When I went by train I took a toothbrush with me." Always there was someone who had a special story. Just to paint a picture: someone was on a train on the line to Leeuwarden, and a group of Moluccans boarded with weekend bags. The tension on that train became unbearable. Everyone was sitting with their buttocks together. The Moluccans retreated to the balcony, opening their bags. Out of them came guitars. Those boys and girls sat down to sing and make music on the balcony. That gave a huge release of relief.'
'Someone else said that as a student in Groningen, he went to his parents in Assen on weekends, and his father threw a bunch of keys on the table: car keys. "I bought you a car, because you don't go by train anymore." So to that extent, we also had our behaviour adjusted to the danger of a hostage situation.'
Waterloo
Among terrorists, hostage-taking has also become less popular. They also arm themselves against today's negotiation techniques. They tear across a boulevard or bridge in a truck. In his book, Westerman observes that the better the talkers develop, the less the terrorists want to talk: 'The idea of the Dutch Approach actually found its Waterloo as early as 1977 at De Punt, but certainly also at the provincial house, in 1978. There, it was simply the storming by marines that put an end to it.'
'I do feel that precisely that became a tipping point. Actually, also because the Moluccan community itself could no longer support it. The previous group, those from De Punt, were still martyrs. They got their own monument in the cemetery. A commemoration is still held there every year. With the last three, from the provincial house, no one wanted to affix themselves. That was too cruel anyway.'
Also important was the arrival of a new education minister, Païs. He pushed for the Moluccans to be recognised in their identity. That meant bilingual education, but also recognition of the specific drug problems among the young. There was a rehab programme specifically aimed at Moluccans, and a jobs scheme. The former soldiers were all given a medal. This all happened only in the mid-1980s, so a decade later, but wasn't that actually also part of the Dutch Approach?'
Front line moved
Recognition of the Moluccans and their struggle continued: 'Exhibiting the bullet-riddled coat of Max Papilaya, the slain leader of the De Punt train hijacking, in the Moluccan Historical Museum? Come to think of it. What country dares to deal with it that way?'
Yet the Dutch Approach has not completely disappeared, according to Westerman: 'The big difference with now is that the front line between would-be terrorists and the society that wants to talk has moved. It is no longer between the bunker in Assen and the train at De Punt, but in the classroom or on the street. What does a teacher who witnesses a student showing sympathy for the perpetrators after the Charlie Hebdo attack do? Who puts in the word. He can send that boy out of the classroom and punish him, because we do not tolerate that kind of opinion, but he can also start the conversation. Questioning further. And turn it into a class discussion. That is happening now in different classrooms and in community work. That talking is an attempt to keep people away from violence.'
Is talking always good?
'In the beginning of my book, I raise the question of whether word can ever win out over violence. That word turns out to be less hopeless than thought. Terrorists in particular have an enormous need to express themselves in words. If you think of those beheading videos of Jihadi John: before he commits his heinous acts, he is really preaching. He has a message. In my book, I write: "Words are made of oxygen. Soft as the wind, you might think. But they are also capable of igniting fire." So those same words have a very stirring power. Anders Breivik, who set out to kill on a Norwegian island, posted a tome of hundreds of pages on the internet before his act. The RAF also exhausted themselves with pamphlets. Their tapping machines rattled as loudly as their guns.'
Would it help to listen to types like that? Shouldn't we all listen more and respect each other more?
'Let me put it this way: if there is no more self-mockery, if you no longer have a sense of humour, if you can no longer put yourself in perspective, if you can no longer ask questions, if you can no longer be insecure, language can become perilous. Such a Ulrike Meinhof while writing, carpets a frame of mind from which there is no escape. That becomes as narrow as a loophole. You can nail your thinking so tight that it seems there is only one way out, and that is to sow terror.'
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