Journalist, photographer and law student Geronimo Matulessy speaks his mind in this guest column. On 70 years of Moluccans, diversity and inclusion.
When I was asked to write an impassioned piece for the Moluks Historisch Museum, my head seemed flooded with themes I would want to share with you. The moment I am sure of it, as my first digital pen strokes appear on the screen, doubt sets in because the urgency of another subject suddenly presses itself forward. Choosing what I consider important to make public is difficult, but I will make an attempt.
It is obvious that I should begin with the fact that this year marks seventy years of Moluccans in the Netherlands. For some it is an event in which the denial of the right of existence of the Republik Maluku Selatan (RMS) nevertheless dominates as an undercurrent. To silence people with a political opinion under the guise of 'diversity' and 'inclusion'. Others, a considerably larger group who consider the history reasonably, see a sorry struggle of a colonial continuation in a new guise. When thousands of KNIL soldiers and their relatives have to continue their lives on the other side of the world in 1951 – under false pretences – sacrificed as exotic pawns on a political chessboard for international interests, then that is precisely the reason to keep examining the historical facts. Even if that means it is unpleasant and disturbs your 'party'.
To silence people with a political opinion under the guise of 'diversity' and 'inclusion'
Rest assured, I was not born yesterday and I understand that the Moluccan community is broader than the RMS alone, but the arrival of many really was for the reasons above. As a fervent advocate of real diversity and inclusion, in the broadest context of political, cultural and religious identity, it simply cannot be the intention that exclusion takes place on the basis of political colour. That internal discussions arose during the preparations about showing the Moluccan four-colour flag, seen by the 'party-goers' as a symbol of oppression and exclusion, is symptomatic of this postcolonial fear. Or the recurring, generally negative connotation where the RMS is concerned. Is it about not wanting to kick the paymaster in the shins? Because relations between the Netherlands and Indonesia have been strained for years from a historical and economic point of view? In the light of the large-scale decolonisation research funded by the Dutch state and countless other academic developments on this subject? You tell me.
For others it is purely emotional considerations that override reason, because painful incidents took place in the past in the Vught and Westerbork camps, for example. Which we should not, incidentally, play down. That a link is then made between the legitimacy of the RMS and those emotional events, while the two are unrelated to the freedom struggle, is ridiculous. Because anyone who studies the constitutional principles of the RMS sees that diversity is present and that within it there is a mandate for a free Moluccan state. That does not alter the fact that we are dealing with damaging colonial traces within the passive RMS community and its leaders; I have written critically about this in the NRC before. Fortunately, as an outspoken RMS supporter I can always reassure the other side: "Don't be afraid, I come in peace" – or something like that.
They are strained coping strategies to leave the traumatic past behind for an assimilated future
For whatever reason, it is hypocritical to preach decolonisation and to ignore or even encourage Indonesia's neocolonial, repressive policy. And then to deny those who think differently the space to make use of political fundamental rights, which are moreover based on the actual arrival in the Netherlands. That calls for indignant responses, and I cannot suppress my cynical laugh when the same people hoist themselves onto the stage as the new generation of champions of free speech. They are strained coping strategies to leave the traumatic past behind for an assimilated future. Overcompensation in optima forma.
You will have noticed: I will not be joining your conga line. I choose a side, and no neutral stance fits here. That choice is based on the fact that after more than 400 years, quite apart from the RMS, the people in the Moluccas are not allowed to decide their own fate in freedom. In legal terms we are talking about the right to self-determination, which lawfully belongs to Moluccans too. They are robbed daily of their adat lands and other riches. And political prisoners under the neocolonial legal system, taken over from the former Dutch East Indies, face the prospect of sky-high sentences if they speak out against the Indonesian regime. Where Moluccans live as third-class citizens in an informal economy that guarantees structural poverty. And where we in the Netherlands still face institutional racism, discrimination, the advance of radical right-wing populism, an unreliable government, and have disappeared statistically from the registers.
During this commemoration our thoughts go out to our first- and second-generation family members who suffered inhumanly because of the cold reception on Dutch soil. One consequence was a process of radicalisation that is still being litigated in the courts today. I do recognise that we remain standing through resilience, but glossing over the facts is not going to help us. It is therefore deeply tragic that, as a Moluccan community, after more than four hundred years we have got no further than subsidy pots, pins on KNIL uniforms, socio-economic disadvantage and attempts to depoliticise the past, present and future.
Real dialogues If we want to make progress, let us hold real dialogues; sharp and without taboos. In which we move forward together, may criticise one another openly regardless of ideological differences, and in which justice ultimately prevails. It is therefore to be commended that a development is under way around the recently launched 'Molukse Dialogen'; there is promise in that. But countless initiatives by young Moluccans are praiseworthy too, as they join forces nationally to preserve the Moluccan neighbourhoods.
I want to live in a country where there is recognition and acknowledgement of the suffering that still has its effects today. That is even possible without the RMS, if the people in the Moluccas choose it. If these simple wishes are a utopia, then I am happy to live in that illusion. But I will never allow the fist of the oppressor to keep silencing us, directly or indirectly.
Apa** datang dari muka, jangan unduré.
MENA!
