Van Randwijk Lecture 2020

Speech | 05-05-2020

'Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning', as the Psalms tell us. The intervening night can be cold and dark.
Today, we are commemorating a night which lasted 5 years and we are celebrating the joy heralded by the next morning 75 years ago.
Our country was shrouded in darkness for 5 long years. We were at the mercy of a power we had not chosen ourselves, that executed our fellow citizens and slaughtered more than 100,000 of them in extermination camps.

I speak to you now from the 'Oranjemolen', or 'Orange Mill', a place where the darkness lasted until the end of 1944. Operation 'Uncle Beach' started in November of that year as part of the Battle of the Scheldt. Allied troops advanced from Breskens towards Flushing. They approached the town from the water and could see the silhouette of the Orange Mill in the distance.
It was close to this mill that they came ashore and liberated the town. The walls were peppered with bullets and shrapnel. Despite that, the mill, the town and the province fought back and prevailed. That is why we commemorate.
We commemorate a war which most of us have no personal recollection of. There are scarcely any parents, grandparents, neighbours or friends left who are living proof of this past.
A generation of children is now growing up who will never be able to speak with the survivors. They will never be able to look into the eyes of someone who saw, felt and smelt the bombardments, the arrests, the air raid shelters, or camps. A generation of children who will never witness a number tattooed on a forearm.
All this makes our task of commemorating the suffering and celebrating the freedom even more important. Now that the war is disappearing from living memory, it is our task to keep that memory alive.

To keep looking for the stories and to preserve them and pass them on, by continuing to remember the darkest episodes from our past, so that we can - and dare - to look that period, and with that ourselves as well, straight in the eye.
Today, we are remembering the blackest crime from our past. The unspeakable horror that took place at the heart of the European continent and at the heart of European culture. There, something occurred which we will never be able to come to terms with.

'Here, heaven and earth are on fire', was what Elie Wiesel said about Auschwitz. 'Close your eyes and look: endless nocturnal processions are converging here, and here it is always night. '
Can there be anything else than silence after the Shoah? Can there still be hope? Joy?
When I was invited to lay a wreath in Yad Vashem at the beginning of this year, I could not find any answers to these questions. What stayed in my mind was the instruction given to us by the survivors.

To never forget. To never be indifferent.

Ladies and gentlemen,

For the first time in 75 years, we are again experiencing a collective lack of freedom. Although we are not at war and the lack of freedom feels different, we are being forced to be resourceful and pull together. Not because of the iron fist of an occupier or a dictator with military or ideological goals, but by a virus.
The coronavirus crisis is causing us to see and feel what it means to no longer be able to walk through town free of worries, visit grandparents, or drop in on friends.
We are organising digital meetings and drinks and are seeing each other remotely. Although that can be fun and efficient, it is no replacement for proper human contact…
We all know, of course, why we are doing this. The virus is merciless and can affect anyone. The pictures from our hospitals, the stories of cleaners, nurses and those on the front line in the intensive care wards are harrowing.
None of us want to make their work more difficult and it is inconceivable that we could let patients down by our actions. That is why we are staying indoors and keeping our distance.
The pandemic is exposing our fundamental vulnerabilities. Our certainties have become uncertain.
We are in uncharted territory. And, as is always the case in uncharted territory, our character is being tested.
Our communities seem to be unravelling, and yet they are showing themselves to be social and resilient. We are now much more willing to help our neighbours. We keep an eye out for anyone who needs help. We now realise how great it can be to care for others. We are looking for creative ways to safeguard our livelihoods.
***
All over the world, I have seen how strong and unique people can be - in refugee camps, destroyed villages, in countries after a crisis - and I am extremely impressed by the pride and dignity of people who are trying to rebuild a 'normal' existence.
We too want to return to normality. In times like these, we value our freedom to breathe even more.
But let us not forget that we are temporarily giving up some of our freedoms, so we can emerge from this crisis stronger. Let us try to give meaning to this unprecedented period. To make choices which will determine what kind of place the world is going to be in the coming decades.
It is almost a law of nature that we will revert to old habits and see our own convictions proven during the crisis. However, it is not enough simply to believe we are right.
Because once the virus has been defeated, the economic consequences for many will be long-lasting.
Pressure may be brought to bear on social cohesion. The virus does not discriminate on the basis of appearance, religion or gender, but the consequences of it are hitting the most vulnerable the hardest.
Consequently, we cannot avoid looking at the way we live, work, create prosperity and distribute wealth in a different light.
What is this crisis teaching us? To attach more value to things that are valuable. What is vital in our society? Education, care, art and culture…is the supermarket employee not more vital than the stock market trader?
It is teaching us that our neighbours include those who live on the other side of the world. That we must not overburden the planet. That we must tackle the excesses of capitalism in order to save capitalism from itself and make it future-proof.
How we are going to do that is a struggle in itself. I understand that it is tempting to call a halt to globalisation. Globalisation and international connections are being blamed for being the basis for the pandemic. Globalisation has its frailties and risks and I fully acknowledge that.
However, I am opposed to those who are turning against international cooperation and trade and who point to the virus as an argument for what they have always argued, namely more nationalism, autarchy and protectionism. To me, that is the easy way out.
My response is that coronavirus is not the first pandemic we have suffered. A century ago, the world was ravaged by Spanish flu at a time that there were no intercontinental flights, no trade treaties and no Schengen zone with open borders.
Scientists across the world, from Finland to New Zealand and from Mexico to Japan are currently working on a response to the virus. They are sharing their knowledge in a way which is open as never before.
A world order of international cooperation and connections is now also the response to the health crisis.
Autarchy and hauling up the drawbridge is the wrong response. Instead, it is important to mitigate the frailties and risks of globalisation through better agreements and stricter controls.
The pandemic is encouraging us to see the world population as a single society and is forcing us to accept individual choices have consequences for everyone. As Paolo Giordano said, 'The society we should be thinking about is the whole of humanity.'
We are witnessing leaders who are abusing the crisis in order to achieve their ambitions and who are taking away rights that people have fought long and hard for. Leaders who are weakening - or even dismantling - the constitutional state and are using the crisis to consolidate their own power. Leaders who are embracing nationalism once again.
This too should never be the response to this crisis.
The best moments in our history are the moments when we continued to embrace an open society, even when it was difficult to do so. Moments in which the Netherlands internationally led the way.
That international perspective will enable us to deal with challenges across the globe.

***

Europe and the United Nations are not universally popular. Academic and journalistic freedom are not universally popular. An independent constitutional state is not universally popular. Rights for minorities and refugees are not universally popular.
However, to me responsible leadership means that we continue to stand up for people's fundamental rights and the institutions that defend them and for the solidarity and cooperation they demand.
These are living monuments to the lessons from the dark corners of our history in which exclusion, marginalisation and persecution were commonplace. They are evidence of what the ultimate consequence can be of anti-Semitism, xenophobia and racism.
Today, 75 years after the Shoah, we are seeing hatred and aggression against Jews on the increase everywhere. Right-wing extremism, ethnic nationalism and radical Islamism are raising their ugly heads again both internationally and in the Netherlands. The people behind this are sowers of division and disrupters of society.
'Ranters advocating an alternative for democracy.'
We must never trivialise this and never legitimise it.
Van Randwijk understood that perfectly
because intolerance can never be the credo.
In my opinion, that is also part of responsible leadership.
***
'Drink heartily from the cup of joy, but do not forget the suffering it is mixed with', said Prime Minister Gerbrandy on Radio Orange [Radio Oranje] on 5 May 1945.
Today, we are drinking from the cup of joy in the knowledge that this is only possible thanks to the battles waged by generations that have gone before us and the suffering they endured.
The last eyewitnesses, those who have carried the war with them throughout their entire lives, are no longer among us. Let us remember them and let us carry the freedom they fought with us throughout our lives. Not only on days of remembrance or when we visit memorials,
because after the sorrow of the evening and the darkness of the night, joy comes with the morning.
And only people can rejoice, and only people can sing.
On this special Liberation Day, with its enforced silence, we will, this afternoon, sing along with our ambassador of freedom, Roxeanne Hazes, in a celebration of our solidarity during this crisis.
It is an initiative by Claudia de Breij to have everyone in the Netherlands sing along to the iconic song by Ramses Shaffy:
'Sing, fight, cry, pray, laugh, work and admire. '
We are all people and we are all mortal.
But there is also hope and there is freedom…and they can only be found in ourselves.
Thank you very much for your attention.