Tag Archives: February Strike

The February Strike against the Nazis at 75

Only 75 years ago, on February 25, 1941,  the city of Amsterdam went on strike against the Nazis – en masse – to protest the first roundup of their Jewish comrades. More than 300,000 people took to the streets.  It never happened anywhere else, and it never happened in Amsterdam again.

Once the word of the roundup of 425 men spread, communist street sweepers instigated the strike almost immediately.  They brought people together at the Noorderkerk, and overnight produced a mimeographed leaflet saying “Strike! Strike! Strike!” against the persecution of Jews.
Calls for the February Strike on the NoordermarktOn the morning of February 25, 1941, the dockworkers stopped.  Then the trams shut down.  Many others followed, and soon the city was at a standstill except for the people in the streets singing and marching. (For a little more information and a nice photo of the memorial statue of the Dockworker, look here).

The Germans were taken completely by surprise.  They had viewed the Dutch as brother Aryans who would come around eventually, and of course they did not regard the Dutch Jewish citizens whose history went back to the 17th century as Dutch.  As the strike spread from Amsterdam to the provinces, the Nazis acted fast.  By the third day, they had imprisoned most of the organizers, shot some of the protesters dead, and threatened the direst consequences to anyone who didn’t get right back to work.  They made sure that no one would ever try anything on that scale again.

No one did.  The resistance from that point forward was much more in bits and pieces, sometimes effective and often not.  In the end, the Netherlands lost almost three-quarters of its Jewish population, a devastating loss for Amsterdam in particular, once called “The Jerusalem of the West.”

Only 75 years, less than many human lifetimes, separates us from the moment the street sweepers and other workers organized the February Strike.  The essence of the Nazi philosophy they were protesting is to divide people up by the false and ever more elusive idea of “race,” and to consider some less than human.  As soon as we begin to think of any group only as a mass, not as individuals, we are treading dangerously close to the Nazi path.  If we take the next step and feel that some people are less human than we are, we are on the path Hitler laid out for us.

Naturally, we consider that “nice” people we know or know of are just as human as we are.  But what about batterers, thugs and vandals, sex offenders, or parents who abandon their children or sell them into slavery?  What about Hitler himself?  This is where several great religions tell us we must stretch – but not to condone their egregious behavior.  An effort at accountability is a must, even if it’s almost impossible to conceive of what might be adequate.  Yet we need to recognize that we belong to the same species as these “others.”  Each of us still has human rights, and human needs.

Although the US is a nation of immigrants and the native people who survived our invasion, we hear calls to build walls along our border – only the one between us and the brown people to the south, not between us and Canada.  We are doing the barest minimum to assist Syrian refugees:  welcoming 10,000 in our country of 319 million, versus Germany’s one million in a population of 80 million – in other words, we are doing one percent of what the world’s most generous country has done, even though our population is almost four times bigger.  A Presidential candidate says we should keep Muslims from entering our country – be they college professors, grandparents who want to visit their kids, bankers or merchants or ne’er do wells – solely on the basis of their religion.

Does this sound familiar to anybody else?

Can we be as brave as the streetsweepers of Amsterdam and stand against it?

February Strike Poster

The February Strike against the Nazis

The Dockworker

The Dockworker

On February 25, we joined hundreds of other people in Amsterdam to remember the huge outpouring for the general strike called on this day in 1941 — the only such protest throughout Europe to object to the first roundup of Jewish men right there, where we gathered, in the Jonas Daniel Meijerplein.  Instead of a regular blog post, I’ve written a letter to The Dockworker, the symbolic figure of the strike whose statue stands there today.

 

 

 

The Dockworker statue, with a woman wearing red, remembering the communist organizers

The Dockworker statue, with a woman wearing red, remembering the communist organizers

To the Dockworker, February 25, 2015

So, my friend, here we are again.  You look so hefty in bronze, as you must have been in life.  I wonder how many such tons of goods you shifted off the ships of Amsterdam, just a few blocks away.  You were the first to go out on strike, you and the tramworkers.  “Strike! Strike! Strike!” the leaflet had said, after they rounded up 425 Jewish men right here in the Jonas Daniel Meijerplein, and you did.  The comrades had gotten together right afterwards, at the Noorderkerk, and agreed that they couldn’t let the Nazis get away with this.  Yes, the Germans had been well behaved overall ,since they invaded the spring before the strike, but their Dutch buddies did the dirty work of harassing the Jewish community.  Some broken windows, the occasional beating – you had tolerated that.  But not rounding up your fellow citizens in your own country.  That wouldn’t do.

Once the docks and the trams stopped working, everything in Amsterdam stopped.  It was a bitterly cold day, but it didn’t stop you and 300,000 others from turning out.  People sang in the streets, defying the Nazi authorities.  Even the offices and the sewing shops came to a halt.  Other cities heard about what was happening, and some of them went on strike too.  It was a general strike, and not for wages or benefits, but to protest the Nazi invasion and what they had done to fellow workers.  A great day, according to all the accounts we have, until the astonished German authorities cracked down, jailed the organizers in what’s now the swanky Lloyd Hotel, and sent them off to prison where most of them died.  So did the 425 men they rounded up in this very square where your statue stands.  The city was fined and new restrictions were put in place.

People wait in front of the Portuguese Synagogue with their flowers

People wait in front of the Portuguese Synagogue with their flowers

When I first came to this event 14 years ago, it was a huge, solemn occasion marking the 60th anniversary.  That day, we were in the presence of people who had been through the war, who had resisted, or hidden others, or been hidden.  After the few speeches, it was a quiet occasion, with people coming forward one or two at a time to lay small bouquets of flowers in addition to the official wreaths.  Some had personal notes attached to them.  Like 1941, it was a frigid day, and for me a life changing one as I began to be gripped by the stories of the Holocaust and resistance, and lack of resistance, in the Netherlands.  That day, I felt the reality of what had happened, both the sorrow about the losses and the inspiration of the Strike.  The absences.

Each of the several times I’ve been back, the day has felt a little different.  I always feel honored to be here.  Each time, I’ve known a little more about what happened in those terrible years of Nazi occupation, from May 10, 1940 until May 5, 1945 in Amsterdam.  I’ve thought often about you and the ones who marched with you, when I’ve faced the issues of my own time and wondered when and how to act against oppression and persecution.

People line up to lay flowers and pay their respects

The head of the long line where people prepare to lay flowers and pay their respects

The few speeches this year were as tasteful and appropriate as ever.  According to Het Parool, a leading daily newspaper that began as an underground sheet, Mayor Geke Faber Zaanstad said that “We can not look away as Jews again have to fear for their lives and their synagogues should be protected. . .We can not look away as cartoonists and opinion makers no longer dare use their freedom of speech. We can not look away as ordinary Muslims insulted and attacked, as their mosques destroyed, because of the actions of extremists.”  She was followed by actress Rosa da Silva, who plays Anne Frank in a current theatrical production, reciting poems accompanied by a poignant violin solo.  I caught the gist.

Someone old enough to remember?

Someone old enough to remember?

Perhaps it was just me, or the mood I was in yesterday.  But when the speeches were over, some people began chatting with each other as if they were at any other gathering, as they waited to lay their flowers.  Many faces were still, of course.  And who am I to say that people shouldn’t enjoy life and each other’s company?  Yet the tone of it troubled me.  The crowd of some hundreds of people was smaller, the flowers fewer, especially the small bouquets from ordinary people, as opposed to the big official wreaths. It’s not a big year this year, the 74th, so maybe that accounts for it.  But it did seem different to me that the elderly people who came in wheelchairs or with walkers were little children at the time of the strike, not active participants who lost friends and fellow workers.

The big question for me now   As much as we owe you honor for all you did – and that blast of courage and fortitude blows through us like the wind off the North Sea, worthy of remembrance and action – we see you through the smoke of more than 100,000 murdered Dutch citizens.  That must temper the thrill we feel when we think of your courage, your immediate outrage, your standing up against the Nazis as no other city ever did.  Maybe that’s why your face, to me, has always held questions, not simple heroism, why your hands are open and empty.  After most of a lifetime, can I look you in the face as I lay my flowers at your feet?  IMG_2399

Valentine’s Concerts: Cello & Pianola

On Valentine’s Day, we went back to one of our favorite haunts for a 2:00 Saturday concert, the Noorderkerk where the February 1941 Strike was organized, right behind the organic market.

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The music is wonderful and reasonably priced, and usually involves young musicians.  Many people in the audience go almost every time, and it is a quiet group with deep attention.  One warning:  the space is always chilly, and the concerts are only held until it warms up outside, so wear your woolies.  

Valentine’s Day was no exception in focusing on young talent — Lidy Blidorp and Genevieve Verhage on cello, and Mike Fentross on lute and its relatives.  I would never have thought of those instruments  in combination, but they sounded wonderful, with solo opportunities for each.  The theme of love began with Caccini’s Amarilli, mia bella, a song of longing from the early 1600s which could have been written yesterday.  We heard a very difficult solo cello sonata by Kodåly, then back to love with Purcell’s Dido’s Lament, and finally a Boccherini sonata.  A couple of lute pieces were interspersed by Kapsberger and Sanz, so they covered the centuries from early 1500s to the 1960s.  It’s wonderful to see young people thoroughly absorbed in their art.  Lidy is in the foreground, but if you look closely you will see the lutenist listening to her.

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Still wanting even more music, we spent the evening at the Pianola Museum, a collection of player pianos and 30,000 rolls of music kept alive by the dedicated conservator Kasper Janse.  Notice all the rolls of music around the screen.

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Silent films, mostly with a romantic twist, were shown to the accompaniment of either player piano music (can you imagine Scott Joplin recorded that way!) or live piano brilliantly coordinated with the action on the screen.  Our pianist/lecturer Yvo Verschoor was clearly an authority on the subject, and described the days when many theaters had orchestras and/or organs, and virtually all had the piano.  We saw the first people at the Paris World’s Fair in 1900 walk jerkily along by the Eiffel Tower, a few waving their top hats at us; we went through terrifying tunnels; we swooned with Rudolf Valentino and Gloria Swanson; and roared at the witty antics of Chaplin and heartier stunts of Buster Keaton.

The little in-house bar is a wonderful place to relax before or after the programs:

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See also my page elsewhere on these two venues for more information.