LIFE-LONG

Camping tot vrijheidsbezinning, Appelscha

Studying in the cell

Willem de Haan started his degree programme in Sociology in 1976, and graduated in 1984. It was not an easy ride: ‘In 1979/1980, I was sent to prison for being a total objector, but I continued my studies. But that was not always easy. For example, the prison management of the military prison Nieuwersluis refused that I had access to more than one textbook and the study advisor had to explain that the students often had to study several books at the same time.

Lecturers came to the detention centre so that I could sit exams;
I was once allowed to take an oral exam in the Faculty, escorted by two military police officers. I had to wear a pole in my trousers to physically prevent me from running away. Meanwhile the military police officers were looking their eyes out, they had never been to a university before.”

PHOTO: REYER BOXEM

‘This ideology collapsed once military service was abolished in 1996. There was no longer any need to refuse military service, so there were no more total objectors. The Cold War had ended, along with the fear of a nuclear war.’

Talking as the solution
So people’s perception of the gravity of war also faded, says Willem de Haan. ‘I want my book to make people think carefully about the widely held view that there’s only one answer to threat: arm yourself and bare your teeth. The idea that the conflict in Ukraine can only be solved with military force hasn’t been properly thought through. It means that there’s no way out. You have to solve this by talking. How did it come about? You won’t find the answer if you only look at events since the invasion on 24 February 2022. But if you go back to the fall of the Berlin Wall and the expansion of NATO, you see a completely different picture.

Above all, it’s important to realize that military force causes immeasurable damage to civilians and soldiers. So for God’s sake, find a different solution.’

De Haan was a ‘total objector’, as it was called by the anti-military action group Onkruit. This meant that he was not only refusing to do military service, but also refusing to do the alternative social service offered to conscientious objectors. He was eventually sentenced to 18 months in prison.

Anti-militarism
De Haan is still a peace activist, even after retiring from 40 years in journalism. His book Vrede als daad was recently published. In the book, he describes his time with Onkruit (throwing black paint on fighter jets, burning NATO and Warsaw Pact flags), as well as giving a run-down of anti-militarism through the ages (from Ferdinand Domela Nieuwenhuis, the Russian writer Tolstoy, the Dutch minister Bart de Ligt, Mahatma Gandhi, to action groups like Onkruit). And he examines the question of what has happened to anti-militarism, now that Defence spending is being increased because of Russia’s war against Ukraine.

Stay strong
Even his kindred spirits from the old days seem to have changed their minds, he writes in his book.
So what is the difference between then and now? ‘Well, in those days we used to go to the Pinksterlanddagen in Appelscha,’ says Willem de Haan on the phone. ‘This is a large-scale anarchist event held every Whitsun, which started in the 1930s. We met other total objectors there, people who had refused to do military service back in the 1930s. They were now old men, who saw us as their successors and were delighted to see that new life had blown into the old sentiment: radical opposition to that military service. We saw ourselves as one big family, spanning the generations. Those old men regularly wrote to me while I was in prison: “Stay strong, don’t give up.” Wonderful!’

TEXT: JURGEN TIEKSTRA

While studying in Groningen in the 1970s, anti-militarist Willem de Haan (68)
was sentenced to 18 months in prison for refusing to do military service. He continued his
studies in his cell. In his book Vrede als daad he looks back at his life and asks the question:
what has happened to the peace activism of that era?

t is 1979: Willem de Haan, 22 years of age, student of sociology in Groningen, arrives at the Ministry of Defence allocation centre on Hereweg and rips up his call-up papers for military service right in front of a Defence official.