I live in what you might have called the former Jewish neighbourhood of Zandvoort. It was a flourishing community coming to this beach town related to the upcoming ‘Spa’ culture promoted in the 19^th into 20^th century and putting the town on the map as a tourist beach destination in the Netherlands and Germany. It attracted new Jewish investors, realizing our trainline between Haarlem & Zandvoort, a bathing house, hotels, shops etc. Bringing along Jewish families from Amsterdam and surrounding areas to start their businesses here. There’s nothing left of it. At the end of my street there was a synagogue. It was blown up during World War II, but also all the houses, shops etc. were destroyed. The Nazis broke down a big part of the town to create space for the Atlantic Wall. The Jewish community was almost fully deported and during World War II Zandvoort had one of the biggest supporter groups of our own fascist party, NSB, who closely collaborated with the occupier – for example it has never become clear whether locals or the Nazis blew up the synagogue. At the same place as the synagogue there is now a memorial. On different plaques you can read all the names of the people deported. I pass it regularly and sometimes take a moment to read the names. I find myself always slightly hesitant to do this. When I come across a child’s name, I shudder, it’s mostly the realization that as a parent, I would find it so unimaginable not being able to protect my child. The pain and grief is simply beyond me. 

About 2 kilometers from my town in the dunes there is also a monument. A place where we remember the many people executed there by the Nazis. In many cases people who had joined the resistance. People who tried to fight the occupation in their own way, but also often tried to hide Jewish families in Dutch homes. Many times children were separated from their families, to have a better chance of surviving – if they were blond (or their hair was painted blond) they could potentially blend in as a family member and were hidden in plain sight. Others lived of course in sheds, under floorboards, hidden rooms, cellars, attics etc. And although many also were discovered – there were those that survived.

Being raised as the second generation after World War II the memory of what had happened was carried by our grandparents and in some cases our parents (mine are so called liberation babies, born right after the war). It was a key formative event in our education. Something we would spend a large amount of time on in our history classes, many children’s books were set around that time, endless amounts of movies, documentaries etc. Being raised in a Christian family there was another layer to this story. The almost ‘tangible’ guilt we had as a society for not protecting the Jewish population (God’s chosen people in the end) better and therefore a commitment to the state of Israel which was unquestionable (next to the strong biblical perspective still of the ‘Holy Land’).

I have a sweet old neighbour, a former shopkeeper herself, I asked her once what happened to the shops of all the Jewish people (as some in the center were not destroyed), she said she had no idea, she was born during the war, but nobody talked about those things after. Especially not in Zandvoort, the realization of the monument happened in 2021. There was for a long-time resistance to expanding the small monument that was there. Perhaps shame, perhaps other sentiments still played a role in this. But history took a long time to do really do justice to what had happened.

The first time I came to Israel and Palestine – only the Westbank – I remember the confusion I felt. I had known ‘rationally’ for a long time already there was no such thing as the ‘chosen people or Holy land’ as such. I do see people have the need for spiritual guidance and places and therefore find comfort and joy in religious practice. But the significance different groups place on this piece of land, I find mind boggling, which was exemplified when I was told there’s special mental health care service in Jerusalem for tourist who come down with the ‘Jesus syndrome’ when visiting and think they are all of a sudden God’s son who has returned to earth.

But I think the part that really hit home was, how I was primed throughout my youth and our context to think Israel and the right of the Jewish population to be there, which in a way I had never questioned until then. I met wonderful Palestinian colleagues, partner organizations and also a number of Israeli, who in a way peeled away all the layers in front of my eyes: the realization that the same people who had lived through genocide were capable of committing similar crimes and atrocities in what they call their own land. And yes, not all are the same, but there is a state, a strong military state, who facilitates and maintains this intense situation and in which many do comply or are complicit in.

And all of this is now revolving in my mind, when I look at what is happening in Gaza and Israel again. I literally cry when I see the children bombed, I cannot help it. And yes, both Jewish people and Palestinians are victims. But there is truly no proportionality to Israel’s response. And what I find most worrying is the renewal of trauma taking place which in the end will create new generations of hate, despair and violence.* It is hard to grasp that those who experienced the trauma of genocide are able to commit the same act. I hear calls to understand Israel’s pain, but I do have a BUT, because out of all the people in the world, they should know never to want to inflict the same on others. Yes, feeling despair and hate is the most logical response to the HAMAS attack (and it was exactly what they played at, also towards their own people – delivering revenge perhaps, but at the same time showing power and installing fear), but someone has to overcome the trauma, has to step over itself to break a cycle which is so vicious it will keep destroying any form of future for any person who lives there. And the Israeli state is using this trauma, to dehumanize and weaponize this against the Palestinians, a Zionist and colonial history where Palestinians were disregarded from the beginning. A history which really needs to be acknowledged and corrected.

I listened yesterday to this podcast ‘The rest is politics’ with Yuval Noah Hariri, he states that both sides are unable to see the other now because of the trauma, as a psychological fact – even the most liberal probably on both sides. And I am almost 100% sure I would demand the same ‘revenge’ if ever to come in such a situation, whether Palestinian or Israeli. However, in a way this shows a fundamental belief that we cannot do better as humans, we are doomed to continue this cycle of hate, betrayel, fear and revenge. But this is where I have my tiny shred of hope left, to see each other’s trauma and to start acting from there and one day come to some sort of a solution – and yes I understand this now feels even further away than ever. But one of the few persons who lived by this is an example we all know and he took his country into a great direction, and hopefully one day, Palestinians and Israeli leaders will be able to embody his thought: ” Forgiveness liberates the soul. It removes fear, that is why it is such a powerful weapon” – Nelson Mandela”

And yes, I am fully aware I share this, sitting in my safe beach town of Zandvoort, I hope who ever reads this – sees it as an act of solidarity and somehow, somewhere feels seen and held – if only for a moment or otherwise feels compelled to speak up.

Stop the genocide now! Speak up, think and hold your government accountable. Stop the injustice for the sake of all our humanity. Demand humanitarian action now!

*Noting both the direct physical and mental trauma, but research shows trauma can even result in changes in DNA which will affect behavior of future generations, unless treated through therapy