I have just returned home from a lecture given by the former director of the National Monument Camp Amersfoort about the history of the camp, before and after the war. I went there with the expectation and hope of finally hearing the secret of Camp Amersfoort. Why was there such enormous opposition from the government to erect a memorial monument at this location? And why was there initially talk of far fewer Jewish prisoners than there actually were? I once sat next to an old soldier in the prison in Groningen because a memorial plaque was being unveiled there in memory of the Expogé (former political prisoners) who had been executed there. This soldier, with a string of medals, had been imprisoned in Camp Amersfoort. When I asked him what the mystery was surrounding Camp Amersfoort, he replied: ‘Oh, Mr Jacobs, there are some things that are so horrible that it is better to take them to the grave in silence.
I was also busy with my usual rabbinical duties: answering emails, making phone calls, an online shiur, two younger rabbis from abroad (Switzerland and Germany) who wanted to discuss various matters, a serious candidate for conversion and a not-so-serious one. By not serious, I mean a lady who apparently swims in her spare time and is trying to have a conversation with me to see if it would be interesting to become Jewish. She had previously, as she herself indicated, also looked into other religions, but so far Judaism scored the highest, so she would like to spend a few hours chatting about it… I’m not interested in this, due to lack of time and, above all, lack of patience. I don’t forward these kinds of whiners to colleagues or local administrators (unless I dislike them!). In between, I also wrote a text for a matzeva, a gravestone, and, I almost forgot, I had a Zoom meeting about alleged anti-Semitism at one of our universities. Should we go on the offensive and involve the media, or first arrange a meeting with the university board?
In December, the EJA (European Jewish Association) is organising a trip to Krakow. On Monday, there will be presentations on anti-Semitism and on Tuesday, a visit to Auschwitz. This trip is intended for directors and rectors of European schools. If you know anyone in the education sector who might be interested, please let me know so that I can invite them.
Meanwhile, tensions surrounding Israel are growing and the National Coordinator for Counterterrorism has expressed concern about the anti-Semitism that young children are being taught by their parents. Such an anti-Semitic and anti-Zionist baby does not pose a danger as long as the baby is a baby, a toddler or a pupil in the lowest classes of primary school. But, as my friend Pieter-Jaap Aabelsberg warns, how will such a child behave when he or she reaches their teens or is even older?
A survivor of the war, a good acquaintance of my Blouma, gives guest lectures at school. She was politely welcomed by one of the teachers, who was dressed in red and told the volunteer Jewish guest teacher that, before she addressed the class, he had told the pupils about the Gaza issue and how Israel is engaged in genocide and committing the same crimes as the Germans in Auschwitz and other extermination camps. His red clothing was because of the red line that, according to him, the Dutch government should draw with regard to its support for Israel. After this introductory lesson, it was up to the Jewish survivor to tell the class about the hatred of Jews during the years 1940-1945. The Jewish guest teacher was far from amused.
On Monday afternoon, I officially opened the exhibition “Je bent er nog” (You are still here) in Nijkerk. I had the honour of doing so with Sallo van Gelder from Aalten. Sallo, who is now past retirement age, is a survivor of the war. He is the focus of the exhibition, which shows what happened to him after the war. It is clear that most Jews who survived were not welcome. Their homes were bought by third parties for a song, their possessions were stolen and there was no help from the government. The Netherlands was liberated from the Germans, but not from anti-Semitism. It was just not “proper” to be anti-Semitic. That “impropriety” has remained, which is why today’s anti-Semites call themselves anti-Zionists, because that sounds more civilised and has become normal. It is also normal in certain circles for children to be brought up to hate Jews from an early age. But if I want to talk to the parents of these abusive brats to combat that hatred, I am denied the opportunity on grounds of privacy. It is a pity that mayors did not respect privacy at all during the war and diligently passed on the names and addresses of their Jews to the occupiers. It is also regrettable and shameful that a number of current mayors have misused the national remembrance day on 4 May to import a conflict from elsewhere and thereby (further) reinforce the isolation of their local Jews. Because anti-Zionism is really the same as anti-Semitism.
Dear mayors, visit the exhibition “Je bent er nog” (You are still here) and realise that what happened then can happen again tomorrow. Give your Jewish residents a feeling of “it’s good that you are still here” instead of “you are still here” and do not import conflicts from elsewhere, thousands of kilometres away from us. Importing them encourages polarisation and is therefore not a good thing. Your opinion on the situation in Gaza, Syria, Sudan and other horrific trouble spots in our turbulent world is completely irrelevant and therefore completely useless, a waste of time. But in the local fight against increasing polarisation, you can make a difference and have an important voice. If I can be of any help in this, please do not hesitate to contact me. I am happy to help!
