Thread by @Netherlanders

I have mentioned before that I’m of Moluccan descent, I’m proud to carry the surname “Kaihatu”. Actually, there’s a big Moluccan community in the Netherlands and I feel that little is known about the history of the community in the Netherlands.

Unfortunately, the colonial history is only a small part in Dutch history lessons, and tends to emphasize mostly on the victories of the Dutch rather than the consequences that followed. So, please allow me to elaborate on this subject to share some of my heritage.

This is going to be a long thread, so please bear with me.

It is well known that the Dutch East India Company (best known by the Dutch abbreviation VOC) had a presence in the Indonesian archipelago since the 1600s. The Dutch benefited well from trading ‘deals’ with the locals so they could bring home spices, like nutmeg or cloves.

In the 1800s, when the VOC was dissolved, the monopolized archipelago was nationalized as the Dutch East Indies. Ever since, the East Indies have been a formal colony of the Netherlands.

Just like during the VOC period, the East Indies provided the homeland with popular products that weren’t native to the Netherlands themselves. The Dutch government created a law that 20% of the farmland must be used for product for the Dutch market.

The unfairness of this law is the foundation of one of the Netherlands’ greatest literary works; Max Havelaar, by Multatuli. I would highly recommend reading this book if you want to learn more about the Dutch colonial policy in the East Indies.

Fast forward to World War II. The Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (KNIL, for short) was the national colonial army. While many soldiers were European, there was a striking group in their midst; Moluccans.

Having built a reputation of loyalty, hard work and perseverance, the Moluccan soldiers were a highly respected group within the KNIL.

After the Dutch surrendered to the German army in 1940, resources for the KNIL were low.

It was harder to get European manpower and weaponry for the colonial army, so a big responsibility fell to the shoulders of the remaining (mostly Moluccan) soldiers present. In 1942, the Dutch East Indies had to surrender to the Japanese occupiers.

This is my great-grandfather, opa Domingus Jacob “Job” Kaihatu. He was a commander in the KNIL. During the occupation, Opa Job lead the underground resistance, mostly consisting of family and close friends.

Weapons were hidden under the banana tree in the garden, and strategies were planned on the porch during tea time. Because what was more innocent than having tea with your family?

When the Japanese found out about Opa Job resistance cell, he was captured and deported to a Japanese POW camp in Java. When he didn’t confess, his oldest son Chris (my grandpa) was brought in and tortured in front of Opa Job’s eyes. They both still didn’t confess.

A Dutch captain in the KNIL took the blame. Opa Job and Opa Chris survived, the captain was executed.

Fast forward to the end of WWII in August 1945. While the Japanese have capitulated, the Allied forces were not yet present in the region. This power vacuum was used by Soekarno to declare the independent Republic of Indonesia.

The Dutch responded by bringing in police forces, “to restore the peace”. The KNIL also fought on the Dutch side. What followed was a bloody guerrilla war that was strongly rejected by the international community.

Under pressure from the UN, the Netherlands released their colony in December 1949 and the formal foundation of the Republic of Indonesia was a fact.

Soekarno commanded all Dutch present in the country to leave immediately, as well as those that supported the Dutch before, during and after the Japanese occupation. Meaning that ca. 4000 Moluccan militaries + their families (about 12500 people in total) had to leave their homes.

Not wanting that, the Moluccans demanded *their* own independent state, the Republic of South Maluku (RMS). Due to the political tension in the archipelago, the Dutch decided in 1951 to transfer all 12,500 Moluccans to the Netherlands to await the declaration of the RMS.

All KNIL soldiers were dismissed, effective immediately. At their arrival in Rotterdam there wasn’t a proper ceremony, just a barrel with decorations for the former militaries to “grab what they think they’d deserve”. Also, no proper payment for their service during the war.

Since their stay would be temporary (6 months was estimated at the time), the Dutch government felt that Moluccans didn’t have to integrate into society. Therefore, former Nazi concentration camps and some uninhabited mansions were used as residents for the Moluccan families.

Since Moluccans weren’t allowed to become a member of Dutch society or even get a job, the government had the task to take care if these people. To communicate with them, ‘camp councils’ were established. Opa Job, since he spoke Dutch, lead the council in his camp in Barneveld.

Living in the camps wasn’t very generous or comfortable. No need to, since the families would go back in short time. Families often lived together in one room, with little to no privacy. Suitcases were used as closets, to show that the people were ready to go home when they could

Many years passed by, and the camps were falling apart (quitte literally). The government built Moluccan neighbourhoods to accommodate the families, and they were now even stimulated to get jobs. However, the idea that their stay would be temporary did not change.

It was January 1st 1970 that the Committee for Moluccan care (CAZ) was dismissed, and with that the position of the government that the Moluccan presence in the Netherlands was temporary.

It was acknowledged by the government that it was a big mistake to dismiss the Moluccans from the military and to hold on to the believe that one day they would be able to go back.

Not accepting the situation, the Moluccans kept pressuring the Dutch government to stand up for the RMS. They couldn’t do so themselves, since they didn’t have the resources. As the Dutch government refused to further invest in the cause, the Moluccans felt betrayed.

Meanwhile, the second generation matured. They saw the pain their parents carried every day. As an act of desperation, multiple terrorist attacks were planned, to get the attention of the Dutch government.

In particular the double attack of 1977, in which a train was hijacked and an elementary school was held hostage, is notorious and seemingly changed everything.

Both the hijack and hostage situation lasted for 20 days, though the children in the elementary school were released earlier due to illness. The attacks ended when the Dutch government issued an army strike to free the hostages.

Several hostages and hijackers died during these strikes, and today it still is unclear whether or not the deaths of the hijackers were needed, accidental or needless.

Many Moluccans felt ashamed by these actions, not least because there were children involved. The RMS leadership (in exile in the Netherlands) ever since distanced themselves from the terrorist attacks.

The vast majority of the community then accepted that their future was here, in the Netherlands, and put a lot of effort into fitting in and create a better future for them and their children here in the Netherlands.

Though the Moluccan neighbourhoods still exist, the community is (mostly) assimilated into Dutch society. The third, fourth (and fifth?) generation grew up among Dutch children or often married Dutch partners.

The RMS ideal is still present in some older generations, but (I believe) nobody is still fighting for it.

Nevertheless, the Moluccan culture is actively kept alive in families and communities.

Traditions are passed on to their children and new (Dutch) husbands or wives are involved in traditional family values and customs. Love for one another (and food, lots of food!) is the foundation of these values.

It is why I’m proud to be of Moluccan descent. It is why I want to tell this story today, on the last day of my Netherlander-ship. I’m sad that the messy history and mistakes from both the Moluccans and Dutch are no part of the Dutch history canon.

We shouldn’t hide mistakes, we must learn from them so we won’t make them again with other new Dutchmen.

If you’re still here, thanks for taking the time to read my story. To finish with a happy note, here’s a picture of my father and me when we visited Maluku last year. It was beautiful and immediately felt familiair. But the Netherlands are my home and I’m a proud Moluccan Dutchie

If you want to engage with me about this story, make sure to tag @JulianKaihatu into the conversation so I still receive notifications, even after I handed over the Netherlanders account.