Published on Portside (https://portside.org)
Remembering
a Dutch Partisan
Pepijn Brandon
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Jacobin
A new issue
of Jacobin “Rank and File [1],” will be
out August 8. To celebrate its release, new subscriptions [2] are
discounted.
On
Saturday, July 2, Truus Menger-Oversteegen [3],
sculptress and member of the anti-Nazi Dutch armed resistance, died at the age
of ninety-two. Her life reminds us of the crucial role communists and
socialists played in the fight against fascism. Further, the fact that the
Dutch state did not fully recognize her role in the resistance until 2014 tells
us something important about the politics of World War II commemorations.
I knew
Truus through my grandmother, Mirjam Ohringer [4], who died
just three weeks before her at the age of ninety-one. They described themselves
— and a third long-time friend and Communist Party member Els Schalker-Kastanje
— as the “three musketeers.”
All three
were militant left-wing women. Their “red families” instilled radical politics
in them well before the outbreak of World War II.
Each
suffered great personal losses as a result of Nazi occupation and persecution.
In 1941, Mirjam’s first love — a Jewish-German Communist refugee — was swept up
in the first wave of anti-Jewish arrests in Amsterdam. Shortly after, he was
murdered in the concentration camp Mauthausen [5].
Almost all
of Mirjam’s family in Germany and Eastern Europe were also killed as part of
the Nazi persecution of Jews. Els’s father was murdered in Dachau. Truus lost
three members of her resistance group, including Hannie Schaft — “the girl with red hair [6],” who
became an icon of the Dutch antifascist resistance.
After World
War II ended, they promoted an unapologetically political form of
commemoration, under the slogan that became the title of Truus’s memoir [7] — Not
Then, Not Now, Never — to highlight the real history of radical Dutch
resistance.
The Teenage
Militants
Mainstream
stories about anti-Nazi activities in occupied Western Europe tend to start
with Germany’s 1940 conquest. But Truus emphasized that her antifascist
resistance started much earlier.
She grew up
in the Zaan’s “red belt,” the industrial zone north of Amsterdam. Like my
grandmother’s parents, her family participated in the Communist-led
International Red Aid, which helped Jewish and political refugees illegally
cross the border between Germany and the Netherlands.
In an eerie
foreshadowing of today’s Fortress Europe [8], the Dutch
police routinely handed the refugees they caught directly over to the Gestapo.
At an early age, both Truus and Mirjam learned to be silent about the strangers
that were hidden in their bedrooms. They proudly recalled that they learned the
ropes of illegal action in the 1930s, when the Dutch conservative party held
power.
In the
first year of the Nazi occupation, these young women from red families — Truus
was sixteen in 1940, her sister Freddie fourteen, and Mirjam fifteen — handed
out leaflets, distributed illegal newspapers, and helped procure aid for refugees.
Their success depended on what they learned working with International Red Aid.
Their activities at that point might still have had a hint of frivolity to
them.
All this
changed in February 1941 when Communists and radical socialists called for
a general strike [9] in
Amsterdam and the Zaan region. The action quickly transformed into a
spontaneous protest against the first deportations of young Jewish men.
Mirjam’s father hid one of the printing presses producing the leaflets in his
tailor shop, while Truus and her sister Freddie leafletted factories.
The strike
was a success, unparalleled in Nazi-occupied Europe. Tens of thousands of
workers walked out and demonstrated. But the repression that followed was
brutal, fundamentally changing the nature of the movement.
It became
much more dangerous for Jews to participate in the organized resistance. Most,
like Mirjam, went into hiding. Deportations mounted, supported by the mostly
compliant Dutch police and officials, and those who earned generous “head-sums”
for reporting Jews.
At the time
of this mounting repression, a local militant approached Truus and her sister —
both still in their teens — to join the partisans. Their small cell, which grew
to eight fighters, was connected to similar groups through their commander
Frans van der Wiel and became one of the most famous Dutch resistance groups.
When the
student Hannie Schaft joined them in 1943, they considered her the
“intellectual” because all the initial members came from working-class
backgrounds. Together, the three women and five men sabotaged railway lines,
rescued Jewish children, and killed Nazi collaborators who had betrayed Jews.
When I
interviewed Truus ten years ago, she described these events with the same
directness and aversion to hero-worship that characterizes her memoir: “We were
ordinary girls; we did not like aggression.”
But behind
her matter-of-fact presentation, there were deep motivations. She grieved over
a failed transport of Jewish children: caught in the searchlight in a remote
area, all but one of the kids were mowed down by machine-guns. She courageously
carried on after her comrades were arrested and shot, a fate that befell Hannie
Schaft. And finally, she remembered the rising tensions within the resistance
movement itself during the final phases of the war.
When the
nationalist forces led by Prince Bernhard [10] — a
one-time Nazi sympathizer — finally joined the fight, they rolled back the
Community Party’s influence in favor of a conservative-led “national front.”
There are
still rumors that members of Truus’s fighting unit were deliberately turned
over to the Nazis. Even though definitive proof of this has never been
provided, the Menger-Oversteegen sisters experienced firsthand how Bernhard’s
men would send Communist operatives on life-threatening missions that were
actually smuggling operations that benefited the new resistance’s rich
commanders.
These
tensions were carefully washed away in the official postwar commemoration
culture, which celebrates a unified struggle — led by the monarchy — against
“the German invaders.” Communist Party leaders had their own, popular-front
reasons to collude with the nationalists and smooth out these contradictions.
But for
rank-and-file militants like Truus and her comrades, the struggle extended
beyond national liberation. They hoped that the defeat of fascism would usher
in a left-wing reconstruction of Europe.
The Cold War [11] quickly
dashed their hopes and further ratcheted up the tension between Communists and
nationalists. In 1952, when the Communist Party organized the first
commemoration for Hannie Schaft, the government banned the demonstration and a
police force — backed by tanks — was sent in to disperse the crowd.
For years,
the Dutch left organized its own World War II commemorations, separate from the
official ones. It is no surprise that it took the Dutch state until 2014 to
give Truus and her sister the highest distinction for participating in the
resistance.
The Wrong
Lessons
Even this
long-overdue recognition is not void of irony. Welcoming old Communist fighters
back into the nation’s fold is the final stage of a strategy designed to
ritualize the European memory of World War II and depoliticize resistance
movements.
In this
official commemoration culture, the horrors [12] of
the Nazi occupation remind us to value completely abstract notions of freedom,
justice, and democracy — ostensibly embodied in the holy trinity of liberal
capitalism, the rule of law, and the peaceful process of European unification.
For veteran
fighters like Truus or my grandmother, commemoration was never so vacuous and
conformist: it carried a completely different political message. They insisted
that fascism grew up within the folds of liberal capitalism, and warned that it
could do so again. And they knew their willingness to go against the forces of
law and order and defy the pre-fascist state taught them how to survive the
dark years that followed.
As we lose
the last of this generation of resistance fighters, we must not let official
culture erase their revolutionary politics. In a period of officially sponsored
nationalism, persecution of refugees along the borders of the European Union,
and the growing threat [13] of
fascist movements, we need to fully remember this legacy.
Pepijn
Brandon is a Dutch historian who currently works at the University of
Pittsburgh.
Links:
[1] https://www.jacobinmag.com/issue-22-preview/
[2] https://www.jacobinmag.com/subscribe/?code=RANKANDFILE
[3] http://www.dutchnews.nl/news/archives/2016/06/world-war-ii-resistance-heroine-dies-at-92/
[4] https://www.mauthausen-memorial.org/en/News/Obituary-for-Mirjam-Ohringer
[5] https://www.britannica.com/place/Mauthausen-concentration-camp-Austria
[6] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082731/
[7] https://www.bol.com/nl/p/toen-niet-nu-niet-nooit/1001004001560250/
[8] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2015/09/refugee-crisis-mediterranean-europe-syria-libya/
[9] http://www.dutchnews.nl/features/2016/02/ten-things-about-the-february-strike/
[10] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/netherlands/7377402/Dutch-Prince-Bernhard-was-member-of-Nazi-party.html
[11] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2015/12/reunification-east-germany-berlin-wall-unification-gdr-stasi/
[12] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2015/09/nuremberg-laws-eugenics-germany-third-reich-nazis-holocaust-migrant-crisis-merkel-recession/
[13] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2016/04/netherlands-dutch-right-geert-wilders-freedom-party/
[14] http://jacobinmag.com/issue-22-preview/
[15] http://jacobinmag.com/subscribe/?code=RANKANDFILE
[2] https://www.jacobinmag.com/subscribe/?code=RANKANDFILE
[3] http://www.dutchnews.nl/news/archives/2016/06/world-war-ii-resistance-heroine-dies-at-92/
[4] https://www.mauthausen-memorial.org/en/News/Obituary-for-Mirjam-Ohringer
[5] https://www.britannica.com/place/Mauthausen-concentration-camp-Austria
[6] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082731/
[7] https://www.bol.com/nl/p/toen-niet-nu-niet-nooit/1001004001560250/
[8] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2015/09/refugee-crisis-mediterranean-europe-syria-libya/
[9] http://www.dutchnews.nl/features/2016/02/ten-things-about-the-february-strike/
[10] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/netherlands/7377402/Dutch-Prince-Bernhard-was-member-of-Nazi-party.html
[11] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2015/12/reunification-east-germany-berlin-wall-unification-gdr-stasi/
[12] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2015/09/nuremberg-laws-eugenics-germany-third-reich-nazis-holocaust-migrant-crisis-merkel-recession/
[13] https://www.jacobinmag.com/2016/04/netherlands-dutch-right-geert-wilders-freedom-party/
[14] http://jacobinmag.com/issue-22-preview/
[15] http://jacobinmag.com/subscribe/?code=RANKANDFILE
Donations can be sent to
the Baltimore Nonviolence Center, 325 E. 25th St., Baltimore, MD 21218.
Ph: 410-323-1607; Email: mobuszewski [at] verizon.net. Go to http://baltimorenonviolencecenter.blogspot.com/
"The master class
has always declared the wars; the subject class has always fought the battles.
The master class has had all to gain and nothing to lose, while the subject
class has had nothing to gain and everything to lose--especially their lives."
Eugene Victor Debs
No comments:
Post a Comment