Commemoration of the end of the Japanese occupation of the Dutch East Indies

This year marks 80 years of freedom. Throughout this year, we are commemorating and celebrating the fact that, 80 years ago, we regained our freedom and were liberated from our occupiers.

So far, we have mainly been talking about Europe and the German occupying forces: the bombing of Rotterdam, the Hunger Winter, the Holocaust and the concentration camps. This is understandable, given the unimaginable consequences of this war and its lasting impact on the history of a large part of the world.

But for around 2 million Dutch people, this does not tally with their family history. For them, 15 August is the date that marks the end of the Second World War – and that is also the official date of the end of the war in the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

For the families of these 2 million Dutch people did not live under the yoke of the Germans, but of the Japanese, in what was then still the Dutch East Indies. In their families, the war is associated with the Japanese internment camps, the death railways and the ‘comfort women’.

But also about the period that followed: chaos and violence once again, as the Netherlands, acting as a haughty colonial power, responded to the Indonesians’ demand for independence. This was followed by repatriation – whether voluntary or forced – broken promises to KNIL soldiers, a cold reception and a sense of being misunderstood in the Netherlands.

These are also stories we must tell in this year marking 80 years of freedom. Stories that are always present in many families, but are often left untold because the memories are too painful or the social awkwardness too great. Stories that offer a different perspective and shed a different light on our history.

That is why we are gathered here today, at the Seven Indian Crosses, at the Loenen National War Cemetery near Apeldoorn. To commemorate, to listen, to reflect.

These seven crosses form a direct link to the seven Dutch war cemeteries in Indonesia. Around 25,000 Dutch war victims are laid to rest there, from both the Second World War and the Indonesian War of Independence. The three vases standing here today symbolise the cemeteries of honour in Thailand and Myanmar, where a further three thousand Dutch nationals are buried. So many lives, so many families affected, scattered and torn apart.

When the survivors of this war returned to the Netherlands, they did indeed live in freedom. But for many, it was a difficult freedom. In a country that did not welcome them with open arms, where they were, as it were, met with cold shoulders. In that respect, their fate was similar to that of those who had returned as survivors from the camps or factories in Germany or elsewhere in Europe: unheard, unseen, misunderstood, unwelcome.

It took a long time for that to change. The Netherlands was a country in turmoil, still playing its old role as an aggressor and coloniser in Asia, whilst at the same time struggling to come to terms with its role as an oppressed victim. There was no room for repentance or self-reflection, nor any inclination to extend a hand of friendship.

The situation has now changed. And we are gradually learning to view our history from different perspectives. This is evidenced by the apologies offered by the King and the government to the Indonesian people a few years ago. The apologies to all the soldiers who fought for the Dutch armed forces, for the impossible situation they found themselves in as a result of the actions of the Dutch authorities. And the growing awareness of the cold reception in the Netherlands given to both the Moluccan community and the Dutch Indonesians.

However, the public debate on this period in Dutch history is not yet over.

That is why it is all the more important that we continue to commemorate this day together on 15 August, as one nation. With room for different perspectives. With an ear for different stories. With an outstretched hand to those who still remain silent.

That is why we are here today, by these seven crosses and three vases. In solidarity with the victims of that time. In solidarity with their bereaved families today.