Colonial Aphasia in Museums
in the Netherlands
The Tropenmuseum, Amsterdam
Rijksmuseum and Bronbeek Museum
Barend Blom Student Number: 5813662 Master Thesis: Museum Studies University of Amsterdam First Reader: Dr. C. (Chiara) de Cesari Second Reader: Dr. P.A.L (Paul) Bijl Date of Completion: 18 June 2014
Front page image: Facial casts of Nias Islanders made by J.P. Kleiweg de Zwaan in 1910 as displayed in the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam. Photograph made by author.
Table of Contents
Introduction... 1
Tropenmuseum... 12
o ‘ Eastward Bound! Art, Culture and Colonialism: The Netherlands Indies. A Colonial History’ ... ………..……….… 17
‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History: Cloves and Powder’……… 19
‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History: In the East Indies’………...… 23
‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History: Exploring and Exhibiting’ ... 28
o Conclusion……… 29
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam………... 33
o ‘The Netherlands Overseas Surinam and the Dutch East Indies’………... 38
o Man/Machine’ & ‘Freedom/Structure’………... 46
o Conclusion……….... 51
Koninklijk Tehuis voor Oud-Militairen en Museum Bronbeek... 56
o ‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies’………... 61
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies’: Opening rooms………... 63
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies: The Enterprise’………..……. 65
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies: The Dependency’………... 66
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies: The Empire’………...71
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies: War’………..…… 72
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies: Revolution’……….. 76
‘The Story of the Netherlands East Indies: New Ground’……… 78
o Conclusion………...……. 79
Alternatives………..……... 82
Conclusion………... 89
Introduction
‘I see the role of the museum as to give a somewhat representative [history]… I say somewhat because we cannot realize this pretension, and almost no museum can do that, but to attempt to give a somewhat representative history of the Netherlands. Of the Art and History of the Netherlands. And the colonial past is a very large and important part of this (...) the colonial history in the 19th century and also in the 20th century, it is impossible to shrug it aside. And that you pay attention to the violence, to me it seems impossible not to do so’ .1
Jan de Hond, curator at the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam at the history department. Responsible for the 19th century and the relationship between the Netherlands and the non-Western world.
The excerpt above, from an interview with curator Jan de Hond, suggests that the violent colonial past is not absent in the most important museum in the Netherlands. This stands in sharp contrast to the claim uttered time and again in the media and by scholars that the cultural memory of colonialism in the Netherlands is problematic.2
1
‘Ik zie het als de rol van het museum om wel een enigszins representatief, ik zeg dat enigszins omdat de pretentie kunnen we niet waar maken, en bijna geen enkel museum kan dat, maar wel proberen om een representatieve geschiedenis van Nederland te geven. Van de kunst en de geschiedenis van Nederland. En daar is het koloniaal verleden een heel groot, belangrijk onderdeel van. Zeker omdat wij als museum de grote geschiedenis schetsen. En dan bedoel ik met de grote geschiedenis niet alleen de geschiedenis van de grote mannen, zeker niet, maar wel de belangrijke grote ontwikkelingen. Het leven van alle dag, dat doen we niet, maar de koloniale geschiedenis, in de negentiende eeuw, en ook in de twintigste eeuw, is onmogelijk om daar over heen te stappen, zeg maar. En dat je daarbij aandacht besteed aan het geweld lijkt me ook onmogelijk om het niet te doen.’ Jan de Hond. Personal interview 7 February 2014. [All translations are mine]
2
Lizzy van Leeuwen discusses the problematic relationship in: Lizzy van Leeuwen, Ons Indisch Erfgoed (Amsterdam: Bakker, 2008), p. 9, pp. 276- 338; Paul Bijl discusses the claim that it is forgotten in: Paul Bijl, ‘Colonial Memory and Forgetting in the Netherlands and Indonesia’, Journal of Genocide Research Vol. 14, No. 3, 2012, pp. 441-461; for a discussion on the debate on the presentation of slavery in the Netherlands see Guno Jones, ‘De slavernij is onze geschiedenis (niet). Over de discursieve strijd om de betekenis van de NTR-televisieserie de slavernij’, Low Countries Historical Review Vol. 127, No. 4, 2012, pp. 56-82.
This problematic relationship to the colonial past is often described as one of collective amnesia: ‘we forgot our colonial past’ is an often repeated critique.3
Obviously, there are people that have not forgotten the colonial past. There is a large and and active community that commemorates the victims of the Atlantic slave trade.4 And there is an active community of veterans that remember Dutch, Indo Dutch and Moluccans victims, such as the association Herdenking Oorlogsslachtoffers Nederlands-Indië(HONI), that have the following mission statement: ‘In memory of the victims of the Japanese occupation and the Bersiap in the former Dutch Indies (1942-1949)’.5 Paradoxically anyone who says we forgot includes him or herself.6 Anyone who states this, points to a different part of collective memory. The ‘we’ in these statements thus points to the cultural memory of this past, the memory that is created in institutions like the museum.
This being said, most migrants from what is now Indonesia that are living in the Netherlands are (descendants of) Indo-Europeans that had a higher social status than the ‘locals’ or ‘inlanders’ and identified with the colonisers.7 As a result there is not an active community that advocates the remembrance of victims of structural or mass violence committed against the colonized population. This brings us to the last part of the statement: ‘our colonial past’ . Those who say it is forgotten have in mind a
particular past, not the longing for the exotic that has often been described as a colonial nostalgia, or tempo doeloe 8 Thus it is the cultural memory of the mass and structural violence committed during Dutch colonialism that is supposedly forgotten.
3
Bijl, ‘Colonial Memory and Forgetting in the Netherlands and Indonesia’, p. 441. 4
As Jay Winter, with communities that remember I would like to emphasize agency.Thus groups that come together to commemorate. Jay Winter, ‘Sites of memory’ in Susannah Radstone, Bill Schwartz (eds.), Memory. Histories, Theories, Debates (New York: Fordham University Press 2010), pp. 312-324. 5
Mission statement of the association HONI ‘42 ‘49 (Herdenking oorlogsslachtoffers Nederlands-Indië): ‘ter herdenking aan de slachtoffers van de Japanse bezetting en de Bersiap in het voormalig Nederlands-Indië (1942-1949).’ Honi n.p., n.d. Web. 16 June 2014. <http://honi.nl/vereniging-honi/>.
6
Bijl, ‘Colonial Memory and Forgetting in the Netherlands and Indonesia’, p. 442. 7
Jos Hooimeijer, Harry Westering, ‘Hoog tijd voor herdenking van de slachtoffers van het Nederlandse kolonialisme’ Doorbraak n.p. 30 December 2011. Web. 16 June 2014.
<http://www.doorbraak.eu/hoog-tijd-voor-herdenking-slachtoffers/>. 8
Tempo Doeloe means ‘the good old days’ in Malay. The term was popularized by the photo album compiled by Breton de Nijs. Rob Nieuwenhuys [Breton de Nijs] Tempo Doeloe, fotografische documenten
uit het oude Indië, 1870-1914. (Amsterdam: Querido 1961). For a discussion on colonial nostalgia see
‘Visual Nostalgia’ Photographs, Colonial Legacy and Museums in Contemporary European Culture (PhotoClec) Humanities in the European Research Area. n.d. Web 16 June 2014.
Does the newly reopened Rijksmuseum then counter this state of forgetting? And what about other museums in the Netherlands? In 2008, the Tropenmuseum finished a complete redo of its exhibitions, in which they aimed to confront ‘its colonial past head on’.9 In 2010, the permanent exhibition ‘the story of the Netherlands East Indies’ was opened at Bronbeek, the museum of military colonial history in Arnhem. This exhibition was made in cooperation with the Indies memorial center. How do the exhibitions on the Dutch Indies in these three museums contribute to the memory of the colonial past in the Netherlands?
I will argue that the problematic relationship to the colonial past is not countered in these museums. Not because the violent colonial past is absent, but because there is a difficulty in speaking about this past. This is a reflection of the relation to the colonial past in Dutch society in general. As Paul Bijl has shown, there are a large number of publications on the Dutch Indies and there have been frequent discussions in the media about the legacy of the Dutch colonial past.10 He uses the the case of photographs of of colonial violence that are ‘discovered’ time after time.11 He shows that while these photographs keep on being published as revelations that will make people realize the truth, time and again the shock remains absent.12 Paul Bijl concludes that the way these traces are framed makes it appear as if they lie outside national history and collective Dutch concerns.13
9
Koos van Brakel, Susan Legêne (eds.) Collecting at Cultural Crossroads. Collection Policies and Approaches (2008-2012) of the Tropenmuseum (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers 2008), p.10.
10
Bijl, ‘Colonial Memory and Forgetting in the Netherlands and Indonesia’, p. 458; in 1969, a national debate took place and an official investigation was launched (de excessennota) after Joop Hueting gave an eyewitness account on the current news show Achter het Nieuws. Achter het Nieuws. Vara. 17 January 1969.
11
Bijl, ‘Colonial Memory and Forgetting in the Netherlands and Indonesia’, p. 458; Paul Bijl,’Emerging Memory: Photographs of colonial atrocity in Dutch cultural remembrance.’ Diss. University of Utrecht, 2011. Print.
12
That this is still an ongoing process is illustrated by the newspaper article ‘Eerste foto’s ooit van executies Nederlands leger in Indië’ of July 2012. De Volkskrant ‘revealed’ the first photo’s ever found of executions by Dutch soldiers during the Dutch military intervention. These took placeafter the declaration of independence by Soekarno. While these might have been the first photographs of the exact moment of execution, it was not unknown that executions had taken place. Furthermore, other photographs were known of the victims of executions. Lidy Nicolasen ‘Eerste foto’s ooit van executies Nederlands leger in Indië’ De Volkskrant 07 July 2012 A2 Print .
13
He borrows the concept of ‘Colonial Aphasia’ from anthropologist Ann Laura Stoler, who describes a similar situation in France. While amnesia indicates the absence of
memory, aphasia is the inability to address a topic:
‘In aphasia, an occlusion of knowledge is the issue. It is not a matter of ignorance or absence. Aphasia is a dismembering, a difficulty speaking, a difficulty generating a vocabulary that associates appropriate words and concepts with appropriate things. Aphasia in its many forms describes a difficulty retrieving both conceptual and lexical vocabularies and, most important, a difficulty comprehending what is spoken.’.14
I will argue that in the exhibitions discussed, we see something similar: not an absence of traces, but a difficulty in speaking about the colonial past. Not amnesia, but aphasia. This also raises another question: if the problematic relationship is not caused by an absence of traces, how can it then be resolved?
While there are many other museums with colonial collections (most notably the Rijksmuseum Volkenkunde), and there are other historic museums (for example, the Amsterdam Museum), there are no museums for whom these elements represent such a fundamental part of their history or an essential part of their current presentation as the three whose exhibitions I have chosen to analyse. The Tropenmuseum is the largest of the three museums that together form the Museum of World Cultures, which is by far the largest ethnographic museum in the Netherlands. The Rijksmuseum Amsterdam presents itself as the museum of the Netherlands for both Art and History.15 Museum Bronbeek is the only museum in the Netherlands devoted purely to the Dutch Indies and their mission is to be the museum on the Dutch colonial past.
14
Bijl, ‘Colonial Memory and Forgetting in the Netherlands and Indonesia’ p. 449;
Ann Laura Stoler, ‘Colonial Aphasia: Race and Disabled Histories in France’, Public Culture Vol. 23, No. 1, 2011, p. 112.
15
That the focus in this thesis is on the Dutch Indies is in part practical; with the sesquicentennial celebration of the abolishment of slavery, there have been many temporary exhibitions about this theme all over the Netherlands. (The focus in these were all on slavery in the West Indies). An analysis of these would extend the scope of this thesis.16 More importantly, in contrast to the Atlantic slave trade, this part of the colonial past is deeply ingrained in the history of the institutions discussed. For example all three museums have large collections from the former Dutch Indies and a long history in presenting the colonies to the Dutch public.17
How the museums deal with the colonial past touches on the very raison d’être of the Tropenmuseum and Museum Bronbeek. For what is the significance of a former colonial museum in a post-colonial world? This question is particularly acute for the Tropenmuseum, as they have recently endured heavy budget cuts. A precondition for renewed government funding was that they would merge with the Volkenkunde
Museum in Leiden and the Afrika museum in Berg en Dal. The role of the colonial past in this conglomeration will have to be reconsidered. While it was never its raison d’être, the Rijksmuseum has contributed to self-colonisation by creating a Dutch identity that was fundamentally opposed to that of its colonial subjects. And a large part of the Rijksmuseum’s collection consists of colonial objects. As the other museums the Rijksmuseum has to deal with these collections and its past.
These museums thus created both the self and the other and this very identity is still at stake in the presentation of the colonial past. It seems more relevant than ever in a society where ethno-nationalistic politics are on the rise. As colonialism is in essence about racial hierarchies, how it is presented remains relevant for today's society.18 As Paul Gilroy has shown for the United Kingdom, there is a relationship between present
16
For example: De zwarte bladzijde translated as The Dark Chapter] in the Scheepvaartmuseum; De
Zwarte Bladzijde van de Gouden Eeuw [translated as ‘The Sorrow of the Golden Age’] in the Amsterdam
Museum and Zwart & Wit [translated as Black&White] in the Tropenmuseum. 17
There are very few objects related to the slave trade or slavery in Dutch museums or museums in general. An issue that Curator Jan de Hond from the Rijksmuseum struggled with in the presentation of this past. Jan de Hond. Personal interview. 7 February 2014.
18
Ann Laura Stoler, Haunted by Empire. Geographies of Intimacy in North American History (Durham:Duke University Press, 2006), pp. 4,5.
day racism and and the relation to the colonial past.19 And Wayne Modest, head curator at the Tropenmuseum too hoped that attending to the colonial past could be a way of creating more inclusive communities.20
As a result of the crisis of the ethnographic museum, much has been written about the history and presentation of the colonial past in the Tropenmuseum.21 This is due in large part to the museum’s own initiatives. In contrast, far less has been written on the colonial past and presentation in the other two museums (although it also has to be taken into account that the Tropenmuseum’s exhibition is the oldest of the three). The presentation of the colonial past in the Rijksmuseum was the subject of an article in a national newspaper after the reopening in 2013, which named it ‘colonial nostalgia’ but an extensive analysis has never been published.22 The colonial collections and presentations are only named in passing in articles discussing the museum’s history or in relation to the histories of specific objects.23 One exception is an article by Elionoor Bergvelt called 'Art, History and the Colonies in the Dutch National Museums’. However, she only looks at the earliest history of the Rijksmuseum and to that of its predecessors, overlooking the fact that the major colonial collections only came to the museum two
19
Paul Gilroy, ‘Race Is Ordinary. Britain’s Post-Colonial Melancholia’, Philosophia Africana Vol. 6, No. 1, 2003, pp. 31-46.
20
Wayne Modest, ‘Curating Between Self Hate and Self Love: Ethnographic Museums and Ethno-nationalist Politics’, The Future of the Ethnographic Museum. Pitt Rivers museum, Oxford University, United Kingdom. 19-21 July 2013. Lecture.Video registration is available at PRM conference lectures Pitt Rivers. N.D.Web. 16 June 2014. <http://www.prm.ox.ac.uk/PRMconference_lectures.html>.
21
For example: Janneke van Dijk, Susan Legêne (eds.), The Netherlands East Indies at the
Tropenmuseum: A Colonial History (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers 2011); Susan Legêne, ‘Enlightment,
Emphaty, Retreat. The Cultural Heritage of the Ethische politiek’, in: Pieter ter Keurs (ed.), Colonial
Collections Revisited (Leiden: CNWS publications 2007); Daan van Dartel (ed). Tropenmuseum for a Change. Present between Past and Future. A symposium report. 11 December 2011, Tropenmuseum.
Amsterdam: Kit Publishers 2009. Print. 22
Marieke Bloembergen, Henk Schulte Nordholt and Martijn Eickhof, ‘Koloniale Nostalgie in het Rijksmuseum’, NRC Handelsblad 6 June 2013: A2. Print. Carolien Drieënhuizen wrote another review with a similar conclusion: Caroline Drieënhuizen, ‘Terug naar af. Het nieuwe rijksmuseum en de Nederlandse Koloniale geschiedenis’ Open Universiteit Erfgoedplatform 25 April 2013. Web . 16 June
2014.
<http://www.ou.nl/web/erfgoedplatform/terug-naar-af-het-nieuwe-rijksmuseum-en-de-nederlandse-koloniale-geschiedenis>. 23
Johan Bos, ‘“De geschiedenis is vastgelegd in boeken, niet in musea”. Van planvorming tot realisatie. Het Nederlands museum voor geschiedenis in het Rijksmuseum. 1922-1937.’ Bulletin van het
Rijksmuseum Vol. 45, No. 4, 1996; Ewald Vanvugt, De schatten van Lombok. Honderd jaar Nederlandse oorlogsbuit uit Indonesië (Amsterdam: Jan Mets 1995), p. 77.
years after the opening.24 The exhibit at Museum Bronbeek has also never been analyzed. Professor of Colonial and Post-colonial Literature and Culture, Pamela Pattynama presented her ‘viewing experiences’ at a conference organized by the museum, but explicitly stated this was far from an analysis.25 The history of the institution has only been analyzed in publications created to commemorate various anniversaries, and while they include an accurate chronological history, they present little interpretation of facts.26 It goes without saying that no comparison has been made between the museums. This will be the first, if of course incomplete, overview of how colonialism in the Dutch Indies is presented in museums in the Netherlands.27
To detangle the knowledge created in the museums, I will draw on theories of the poetics and politics of display.28 The poetic approach is based on theories of semiotics. It looks at an exhibition as a closed ‘system of signification’.29 One important
contribution is the idea that objects both denote and connote meaning. The meaning that is denoted is that on which most would agree: a rifle is denoted as a weapon. How and object is to be understood on a broader level is what they connote. In other words, why is it here? To take the example of the rifle: is it here to connote violent warfare? Or is it here as a piece of craftsmanship? What an object connotes is determined by how it is encoded (whereas if it is not clear what the object denotes, it is also decoded). This
24
Elionoor Bergvelt, 'Art, History and the Colonies in the Dutch National Museums (1800-1885)', in Hugh Dunthorne and Michael Wintle (eds.), The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Britain and the
Low Countries (Leiden: Brill, 2012), p. 104.
25
She focuses mostly on the use of photographs, which can be explained through her involvement in the PhotoCleC project. Pamela Pattynama. Omstreden geschiedenis over de (re)presentatie van de
Nederlands-Indonesische geschiedenis in musea. Kumpulan, Landgoed Bronbeek in Arnhem. 9 Ferbruary 2012. A video registration is available at Framer Framed n.d. web. 16 June 2014.
<http://framerframed.nl/nl/dossier/videoregistraties-omstreden-geschiedenis/>; Cas Bool, (ed.) Omstreden
geschiedenis. Een symposium over de (re) presentatie van de Nederlands-Indonesische geschiedenis in musea. n.p. n.d. Web. 16 June 2014.
<http://framerframed.nl/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Verslag_Symposium-Omstreden-Geschiedenis_LR.pdf>. 26
Willem Bevaart, Bronbeek.Tempo Doeloe der liefdadigheid (Utrecht: Matrijs 1998); Laurens van Aggelen, 150 jaar koninklijk bronbeek (Arnhem: White Elephant 2013); Johannes Raatgever Jr.,
Koninklijk Militair Invalidenhuis Bronbeek bestaat honderd jaar, 1863 (Den Haag: Albani 1963).
27
A similar project has been undertaken in relation to the presentation of the British colonial past,
although limited to the presentation of photography: Elizabeth Edwards, Matt Mead, ‘Absent Histories and Absent Images: Photographs, Museums and the Colonial Past’, Museum and Society Vol. 11, No. 1, 2013, pp. 19-38.
28
Henrietta Lidchi, ’The Poetics and Politics of Exhibiting other Cultures’, in Stuart Hall (ed.)
Representation. Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices (London: Sage 1997), p. 160.
29
encoding is primarily done by the use of text. What is said, how it is said, and how much is said, are important elements to analyze objects and exhibitions. But design might be as important in encoding and cannot be seen as separate from the text and objects presented.30 A spotlighted object is considered important.31 A red wall can point to violence, where white is thought to create a neutral setting.32
A special category of objects are photographs, for often they are part of the design, or are used to contextualise or to create affect. They are assumed ‘to speak for themself.’33 Its materiality and own history are often not presented. Another important design element is the layout of an exhibition.34 Furthermore this layout can be thought of as extending beyond the exhibition. For example, what does one encounter before entering the exhibition? Thus the surroundings, including the building, itself will be considered. Another important contribution of the poetic approach is that it shows that what is heavily connoted is usually presented as denoted. Interpretations are presented as fact and truth, thus a certain myth is created. The authority of the museum is not questioned.35
30
Corinne Kratz, ’Rhetorics of Value. Constituting Worth and Meaning Through Cultural Display’, Visual
Anthropology Review Vol. 27, No. 1, 2011, pp. 30-34.
31
See for example: Brian O’Doherty, Inside the White Cube. The Ideology of the Gallery Space.(Santa Monica: University of California Press 1961).
32
Stephanie Moser,’The devil is in the Detail. Museum Displays and the Creation of Knowledge’,
Museum Anthropology Vol. 33, No.1, 2010, pp. 27-28.
33
‘Photography in the Museum Displays 2: The Work of Photographs’ Photographs, Colonial Legacy and
Museums in Contemporary European Culture (PhotoClec) Humanities in the European Research Area.
n.d. Web 16 June 2014. <http://photoclec.dmu.ac.uk/content/photography-museum-displays-part-2-work-photographs>.
34
Moser,’The Devil is in the Detail’, pp. 27-28. 35
This authority of the museum and its history are central in the political approach. The main difference is related to the concept of knowledge. In this it is deeply indebted to the work of Michel Foucault. Instead of seeing an exhibition as a place where ‘pure meaning’ can be created, the political approach argues that knowledge is always related to power and is socially and historically constructed.36 The museum is limited by the collection that it can make use of, and the building it can present in.This is especially important related to the museums discussed, as they all played a part in colonialism. Central to this approach is the idea that exhibitions are “privileged places to present the self and ‘others’.”37
Tracing back the history of ethnographic collections and exhibitions, the political approach has revealed how cultures were presented as closed off, unchangeable entities, frozen in time. They were essentialized, static units. As Anthropologist Talad Asaf put it, they became ‘typical actors’.39 They could not speak but only behaved. They were denied agency and coevality.40 Furthermore, by essentializing other cultures, they could be placed in a certain hierarchy, both of race and of development.41 This
hierarchy functioned in creating imperialist thought and justifying colonialism, whose trophies in turn were presented in museums. The political approach has revealed that presenting other cultures was not a neutral act. Or as the philosopher Gilles Deleuze wrote to his friend Michel Foucault: 'You were the first to teach us something absolutely fundamental: the indignity of speaking for others.'42
While this hierarchical function has become obsolete, as anthropologist Richard
36
Since it shows that knowledge is historically constructed much attention has been devoted to the 19th century, the period the modern museum emerged. Notable is the work of Tony Bennett on the
exhibitionary complex. He argues that museums and other ‘exhibitionary complexes’ in the 19th century, like world exhibitions, were places to see the ‘ other’, and as opposed to the ‘self’; the developed opposed to the undeveloped. Tony Bennett, ‘The Exhibitionary Complex’, New formations Vol. 4, 1988, pp. 73-102. 37
Ivan Karp, ‘Culture and representation’, in Ivan Karp, Steven Levin (eds.), Exhibiting Cultures: the
Poetics and Politics of Museum Display (Washington, London: Smithsonian Institution Press 1991), p. 15.
39
Mirjam Shatanawi,’Tropical Malaise’, Bidoun. Arts and Culture from the Middle East Vol. 10, 2007, p. 42.
40
Clare Harris, Michael O’Hanlon, ‘The Future of the Ethnographic Museum’, Anthropology Today Vol. 29, No. 1, 2013, p. 1.
41
Lidchi, ’The Poetics and Politics’, p. 191. 42
Jan Nederveen Pieterse, 'Multiculturalism and Museums. Discourse about Others in the Age of Globalization', Theory Culture Society Vol. 141, No.4,1997, p. 130.
Handler once said, ‘the purpose of the museum is to survive’.43 The political approach thus helps us to detangle what remains of the past of the institution, how the museums have dealt with this and what they convey now. The poetic approach has it’s limitations, since it approaches an exhibition as a closed entity, assuming the museum can start with a blank slate and is not burdened by historic power relations. On the other hand, the political approach tends to leave no room for a humanistic ideal. A pure political approach tends to doom the (ethnographic) museum to an obsolete institution of the past, as several authors note.44 And even curators in ethnographic museum have come to this conclusion, in the words of curator at the Tropenmuseum Mirjam Shatanawi: ‘I cannot curate myself out’.45
This brings us to a limitation of exhibition analysis in that it often disregards the fact that curators are very aware of the critique stemming from both approaches. They are aware that they create a myth, or that they work in an institution with a history of creating a dichotomy between the self and the other. The political approach tends to be especially prepossessed, finding only confirmation in the presentation and not looking for alternatives. Furthermore, small things that have practical reasons can be
overemphasized. Both are limitations of earlier ‘analyses’ of the museums discussed. A more fruitful question is, how can the museums curate themselves out?
To avoid these limitations, a chapter is devoted to alternatives and interviews have been conducted with museum professionals from the respective museums. From Bronbeek Museum, I spoke with curator Hans van den Akker, who together with three others was responsible for ‘the story of the Netherlands East Indies’ . From the
Rijksmuseum, I spoke with Harm Stevens, curator of history, responsible for the exhibit on the 20th centuryand I spoke with curator of history Jan de Hond for the exhibit of the 19th century,. The decisions taken for the presentation of colonialism at the
Tropenmuseum were made clear at the conference ‘Tropenmuseum for a change!’ and in the book The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum. A Colonial History as
43
Richard Handler, ‘An Anthropological Definition of the Museum and its Purpose’, Museum Anthropology Vol.17 No.1, 2008, p. 34.
44
Barbara Kirschenblatt-Gimblett, ‘Objects of Ethnography’, In Ivan Karp and Steven Levin (eds),
Exhibiting Cultures: the Poetics and Politics of Museum Display(Washington, London: Smithsonian
Institution Press 1991), pp. 387-443. 45
well as at the presentation of this book. Furthermore Susan Legêne, head curator at the time, discussed her intentions behind the exhibit shortly in ‘Enlightment, Emphaty, Retreat. The cultural Heritage of the Ethische politiek’.46To discuss alternatives in these difficult times for the museum and the current view on the exhibit I spoke with Wayne Modest, head curator at the Tropenmuseum.
The results of these interviews will be interwoven with the exhibition analysis. In the first chapter, the Tropenmuseum will be discussed, followed by the Rijksmuseum and finally Bronbeek Museum in separate chapters. Each chapter will start with a short history and thus an exploration of the politics of display. In the final chapter, an
alternative to colonial aphasia will be discussed, illustrated by a number of examples.
46
Tropenmuseum
The roots of the Tropenmuseum can be found in Haarlem, where in 1871, the first colonial museum in the world opened. It was founded by the influential Dutch Society for the Advancement of Industry (Maatschappij ter bevordering van Nijverheid) with at its head, Frederik van Eeden. The founding of the museum is directly related to the opening of the colonies for private companies in 1870. As their memorandum of association reads: ‘to benefit Dutch industry and to counter British competition, the society must promote and facilitate the development of the colonies, by exhibiting their natural products and encouraging people to study them’.47 The collection, consisting of raw materials from the colonies and colonial products, was put on display to raise interest in the colonies (and to attract possible investors).48 Research also served a clear commercial purpose. For example, examination of the fiber collection resulted in a manual for entrepreneurs and a booklet on the use of machinery for spinning coconut fibers. 49
Thirty years later, the Dutch Ethical Policy was taking shape; no longer were the Dutch Indies regarded as a wingewest (a region for making profit) but a Dutch
responsibility for the welfare of their colonial subjects was accepted.50 This also meant greater (government) involvement in the colonies. In this new era, a long proposed larger colonial institute received enough support. The institute's new building in Amsterdam opened its doors in 1926, after having been delayed due to the economic crisis related to the First World War. In the meantime national movements had arisen in the Dutch Indies, the colonial government had become quite conservative and
repressive; little remained of the ideals of the Ethical Policy.51 Nevertheless, the institute would convey a message of shared development, as reflected in the opening
47
Marieke Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles .The Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies at the World
Exhibitions. 1880-1931. (Singapore: Singapore University Press 2006), p.34.
48
Daan van Dartel, ‘Dilemmas of the Ethnographic Museum’ Can we make a difference. Museum,
society, and development in North and South. 15-17 May 2008. Koninklijk Instituut voor de Tropen (KIT),
Amsterdam. Paul Voogt (ed.), Amsterdam: KIT Publishers 2008. Print. p. 31. 49
Huub Jans, Tropen in Amsterdam 70 jaar koninklijk instituut voor de tropen (Amsterdam: Terra 1981), p.17.
50
Bloembergen, Colonial Spectacles, p. 103.
51
speech made by Queen Wilhelmina: ‘Above all, this proud building expresses the sincerity and the assurance of our conviction that the interest of the East and West Indies are the interest of the Netherlands (...) may it witness till the end of time (...) that they are one.’52 And indeed, it is the impressive Dutch neo-renaissance building itself that expresses this unity. It is richly adorned with decorations. Many refer to colonial practices, such as the friezes on the outside depicting the harvest of rubber, tobacco, sugar and other colonial products.53
The new building housed the successor of the Colonial museum in Haarlem, but also an ethnographic museum that inherited the large ethnographic collection of the zoological society, Natura Artis Magistra. The museums showed the assumed progress and prosperity brought by the Dutch to the Dutch East Indies. The colony was
presented as a peaceful place where art and culture could flourish. That this conflicted with the reality of racial segregation, a history of violence and harsh repression of Indonesian nationalists did not go unnoticed. The socialist Jac van der Ster wrote the poem ‘Colonial Institute’:
52
Quoted in Jacobus Woudsma, Een markant gebouw in Amsterdam Oost. Het koninklijk instituut voor
de Tropen (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers 2004), p. 32.
53
They organized Beauty and Crafts Coolly on view, with labels behind glass They stole the dreams of a people and put them on display for a dime. Millions have suffered muted
here lie their suffering and their oblivion But no one knows of the many eyes that shred large tears in silence (...)
The statistics show us so much rubber, so much rice, and so much Cajuput But from these graphs one is missing, one that tells us so much blood.(...)54
On November 19, 1945, the name Indisch Museum and Koninklijke vereniging Indisch instituut (Museum for the Indies and Royal Institute for the Indies) was adopted, not long after the Republic of Indonesia declared its independence. However this was not a direct reaction; the named retained the word Indische/Indies And at the time, many believed that pre-war relationships would be restored. It does show that as the relationship with Indonesia/Dutch Indies became troublesome: the prefix colonial was no longer seen as appropriate.55
54
Men heeft de Schoonheid en het Werk geordend. koel, achter glas, voorzien van etiket.
Men heeft de dromen van een volk gestolen, en voor een kwartje hier te kijk gezet. Miljoenen mensen hebben stom geleden; hier ligt hun leed en hun vergetelheid. maar niemand weet meer van de vele ogen, die grote tranen hebben stil geschreid. (...)
De statistieken leren: zóveel rubber en zóveel rijst, en zóveel kajapoet.... maar aan de kurven heeft er een ontbroken, één, die ons zeide: ziet, en zóveel bloed...(...)
Quoted in :Jac van der Ster, ‘Koloniaal Instituut’ in Kees Nieuwenhuijzen (ed.) Links Richten (volledige
reprint 1932-1933) (Amsterdam: van Gennep 1973), p. 215.
55
In 1947, Operation Product, the first of two military interventions aimed at reconquering the Indonesian archipelago took place, euphemistically called ‘police actions’; in the same year, the museum received an increase in subsidies from the government in the East Indies, as well as from the Dutch Ministry of Education, Art, and Science. 56 In these harsh years after the Second World War, the value of the museum for creating interest in the colonies and thus support for the military interventions did not go unnoticed.
Although the operations were a military success, they were a diplomatic disaster. In 1949, under international pressure, the Netherlands accepted the sovereignty of Indonesia. What would be the function of a colonial institute and museum in a country that lost its largest colony? It was decided to simply widen the scope; it would become the Royal institute of the Tropics (Koninklijk instituut voor de Tropen) and the Museum of the Tropics (Tropenmuseum). The general objective remained similar; the collection and dissemination of cultural and economic knowledge. The museum started collecting objects from other parts of the world, although with a greatly reduced budget.58 There was a gradual shift to showing the daily lives of people, using sound recordings and photographs, and presenting everyday items. The colonial wares moved to the depots, and the divisions between the two museums became less strict.59 The colonial history slowly disappeared from the museum, leaving the friezes on the building as unrelated remains.
In 1975, the museum closed for two years for a complete refurbishment. The last colonial products moved to the depots, as did many ethnographic objects. The new museum presented the daily lives of ordinary people in the tropics, to the chagrin of some; in the guestbook, one visitor noted: ‘it is a nightmare, everything I knew, all the beauty is gone’. The museum responded: ‘The old faithful have to miss their museum, but Tempo Doeloe is gone’.60 There was new focus on development aid, as the
museum and the institute came under the wing of foreign affairs. The Indonesian collection became part of South East Asia department. The regional divisions were 56 Jans,Tropen in Amsterdam, p. 87. 58 Jans,Tropen in Amsterdam, p. 87. 59
Janneke van Dijk, The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum, p. 102. 60
“De oude getrouwen zullen ‘hun’ Tropenmuseum moeten missen. Maar Tempo Doeloe is voorbij.” Quoted in: Jans, Tropen in Amsterdam, p. 109.
supplemented with a floor on world trade, technology and environment. What remained of the colonial past, apart from the building, was colonial thinking: the top down idea of development aid and the strict divisions between Developed and Undeveloped, as well as essentialist notions of culture. Instead of dealing with its colonial past directly, the museum opted for a new direction.
As development aid made way for international cooperation, the daily lives of people in the ‘tropics’ became less exotic due to cheaper travel and as the Netherlands became an immigrant society, a new redo became necessary.61 Between 1994 and 2008, the whole museum was redone, section by section. The impact of scholarly work on the politics of display resulted in a new view on the collection. Before the
presentation was made, a collection within the collection was made of all the objects that could be called colonial.62 The new approach was expressed as: ‘[the museum is] no longer viewed simply as a depository or storehouse of material culture, but as a source of information about historical interactions, processes of representation, collectors and the forming of dogmas.’.63 By implication, the museum chose this moment to confront, as Koos van Brakel and Susan Legêne put it, ‘its colonial past head on’.64
61
van Dijk, Susan (eds.), The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum, p. 13. 62
Janneke van Dijk. Symposium Colonial Nostalgia. Tropenmuseum, Amsterdam. 17 March 2011. Video registration available at Framer Framed n.d. web. 16 June
2014.<http://framerframed.nl/nl/blog/symposium-colonial-nostalgia/>. 63
van Brakel, Legêne (eds.), Collecting at Cultural Crossroads, p.10. 64
‘Eastward Bound! Art, Culture and Colonialism: The Netherlands
Indies, A Colonial History’
Figure 1. Floor plan in Dutch of the section The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History. Image taken from the visitors guide.[Kruidnagels & kruitdamp is translates as Cloves and Powder, In Indië as: In the East Indies, Ondekken & tentoonstellen as: Exploring and Exhibiting]. Hester Schölvinck, Christien Oele,
Tropenmuseum: Bezoekersgids (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers 2009) p. 48.
The four rooms of ‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History’ are part of the larger exhibition ‘Eastward bound! Art, Culture and Colonialism’. (Figure 1.). Visitors can enter the exhibition either through the presentation on ‘New Guinea’ and start with the room on anthropology. Alternatively, they can take the elevator and arrive in the middle of the exhibition, in the ‘Colonial Theater’. The suggested route, and the one followed here, is through the section on the ‘spiritual culture’ of South East Asia, which begins in an introductory room, followed by the section ‘Cloves and Powder’. (On the floor plan this introductory room is treated as part of Cloves & Powder.).
The other sections on this floor were critiqued at the conference ‘Tropenmuseum for a change!’ for the clichés they reproduce: ‘spiritual’ South East Asia and ‘popular’ India related to Bollywood. As Henrietta Lidchi put it: ‘[the exhibitions] contain a lot of shorthands; in the midst of which are firmly placed exoticisms.’65 In the section South East Asia, there is a rich collection of Buddhist and Hindu artefacts. As Islamic artefacts were not considered collectable during colonial rule, Islam is underrepresented
(undoubtedly related to the fact that most resistance to colonial rule came from Islamic rulers). This recreates the mistaken belief that Indonesia is mostly a Buddhist or Hindu country with a Muslim minority, instead of the other way around. This history of
collection is not is not told, nor that of how specific objects came to the museum. The West Indies,modern Surinam and the Caribbean, and the Atlantic slave trade are not discussed on this floor but on the second floor next to the section on Africa. It focuses on the individual suffering during the journey from Africa and during the work on the plantations. We see a reprint of the brooks slave ship plan and a list of the numbers of slaves shipped. It is presented in an enclosed section resembling part of a ship, in the background we can hear a woman singing a traditional African song. On the section dealing with the plantation we see slave shackles and whips used for
corporal punishment as well as the print of J.G. Stedman of a slave hung by her hands . Furhter down we find the history of the different groups in modern day Surinam:
Hindustanis, Javanese and Creoles. Illustrated by recently collected personal or religious objects from each group.
In contrast in the rooms of ‘The Netherlands Indies, A colonial History’ the story of collecting is central, although not that of specific objects or the objects that were not collected.
65
‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History: Cloves and Powder’
Departing from the intimacy created by the small sections and wooden walls, one enters ‘The Netherlands Indies A colonial History’ where the white walls bring us into the realm of history. This introductory room offers a chronology, beginning with first trip to the East in 1595 and ending in 1963, with the transfer of New Guinea to Indonesia. The
introductory literally states that Dutch colonialism in the East indies is the subject of this exhibition. But they also offer a clear focus: ‘ the final period of colonial rule is engraved in Dutch and Indonesian collective memory, and the goal is to recall that period and that what led up to it.’ The opening text also immediately names the violence in stating that rebellions against the expansion of colonial rule were ‘crushed, often with ruthless force’.
The first objects we encounter present two contrasting views. They are a painting by Andries Bee from 1656 showing an idealized image of Batavia in 1656, juxtaposed with a 20th century ‘narrative textile’ critiquing Dutch rule. However, because the object are from different time periods, they do not directly engage in dialogue. The idealised world is not rebuked by the story. Instead, two visions of the colony are presented, through different perspectives. The contrast of the violent side and the interest for trade, nature, or culture introduced here returns in the following rooms.
The title and introductory text of the following room ‘Cloves and Powder’ is a good example. Under the caption ‘Cloves and Powder,’ visitors can read:
‘There are many different aspects to Dutch colonialism (...) intrepid sailors, slick merchants, war and oppression, as well as aristocratic rulers, unknown cultures and fascinating natural history’.
It reads a bit like a boy’s adventure book. It concludes by stating that ‘the objects presented here reveal the many facets of Dutch colonialism.’. On this wall, we find two modern Wayang theater puppets depicting the armies of the Java War. Together with a cannon which is decoded as the kind used against the Dutch, the story is told of the war fought in 1825, which ended with the capture of Diponegoro, the leader of the revolt,
when he came to discuss a peace treaty.
Turning right, we see a presentation on the arrival of the first Dutch. However, the room is dominated by the collection of curiosities from Georg Everhard Rumphius (Wölfersheim 1627- Ambon 1702) whose collection extends through several cabinets and even to the ceiling, which is full of stuffed animals, skulls and snakeskins.
Rumphius, himself present as a wax statue, and his collection, together with a
Japanese collection presented on the other side, represent the early interest of Western collectors. Later interest is presented on the Northern wall, in a display based on the old colonial trade museum discussed above. With some imagination one could link the work of Rumphius on spices presented combined with the actual spices, which you can smell, to the trade in spices named in the texts and in the introductory room. But as this link is not made explicit in text nor by directly juxtaposing objects of the same era the link is hard to make. The result is that knowledge is not linked to power.
Tucked away in the corner of the Northern wall, there is a section discussing violence in the colonies. While it is presented right next to the collection history, again they are not explicitly linked and appear unrelated. Though an attempt was made to link the two by placing a showcase with weapons opposite. These are presented as
collectibles, not connoting violence, but craftsmanship. Combining ceremonial weapons, krisses, and actual fighting weapons. The labels are purely descriptive, naming the material and style. For example ‘Parang Nabur. Malay sword with Turkish Dutch influence’. Moreover, only two of the seventeen weapons hint at their violent use, namely : ‘Rudus. Much used fighting sword in Aceh’ and ‘Dutch pistols captured during the Aceh war’.
The section on violence deals with ‘hundreds of major and minor wars in the East Indies’; from the first contact till the police actions. This is done in a display which is supposed to be a form of touch screen, but which works using your shadow instead of actual touch. You have to hold your hand above the screen. (Unfortunately, it was not working properly on all occasions I visited. Due to cuts, the person in charge of
audiovisuals was fired, so it will probably take a while until it is fixed. Given that it must have worked at some point, I struggled through.).66
66
The introductory screen shows a map of the Indonesian archipelago entitled Colonial Wars 1602-1962. Here, you can pick one of the four centuries of Dutch presence, and select a war in a certain location. If you look for the Aceh war, you can find the notorious photograph made by H.M. Neeb of van Heutsz and some soldiers posing with killed inhabitants at a compound.67 The Second World War and the War of Independence are treated as one, making a clear relation between the Japanese conquest and the
independence, but this also means one is overwhelmed with information: one can chose between Japanese camps, Indonesian resistance, film material from the KNIL, pictures of the recruitment of soldiers, as well as their return home.The photographs presented in the installation are not treated as objects in itself. This is not only because they are digitalized, but also because of the lack of context; why were they taken? By whom? Who saw these pictures? Where were they published? This lack of materiality results in the photographs losing their power as proof. They do not function as an exhibit in the other sense of the word. Furthermore as they are not tangible, the events they depict seem less real. On top of that the lack of context makes it hard to relate; the human factor is gone. They act more as illustrations of the events, told by the authority of the museum.
Next to the screen presentation there are some ceremonial swords, a school poster showing the capture of Diponegoro , and a costume worn by Teukoe Oemar Djohan. He was one of the most famous resistance fighters in Indonesian history, fighting in the Aceh war and this was the jacket he was wearing when he was lead into an ambush by the Dutch in 1899.68 One of the ceremonial swords belongs to General van Heutsz, who brought Aceh under Dutch rule. He was once heralded as a hero and later the incarnation of everything wrong with colonialism.69 But nothing is said about him. There are also more Wayong puppets, with figures from various colonial wars. But again, the stories of the objects are not told. As the objects are tucked together with
67
Hendricus Marinus Neeb, Groepsportret van militairen, met rechts bevelhebber Luitenant kolonel J.B.
van Heutsz, bij de vermoorde inwoners van een kampong, nadat deze door hen is ingenomen tijdens een Atjeh expeditie. Photograph. Tropenmuseum.
68
Harm Stevens, ‘The Resonance of Violence in Collections’ in van Dijk, Legêne (eds.) The Netherlands
East Indies at the Tropenmuseum, p. 35..
69
Marieke Bloembergen, ’Amsterdam het van Heutszmonument’ in Wim van den Doel (ed.), Plaatsen
little information, they function more as props to the screen presentation.
The section on violence, with hundreds of wars and over four centuries it is truly too much to comprehend. It functions as a library instead of a presentation. By lumping them all together, the effect is that it all becomes ‘distant history’, including the far more recent politionele acties. This is confirmed by the absence of modern objects; all objects related to colonial war are from the 19th century. We don’t see the weapons used
during the politionele acties: modern rifles and machine guns. The exhibits in the rest of the room furthermore deal with colonial history till 1900 and most space is preserved for the beginning of the colony: the first arrival, the spice trade, Rumphius and his
collection. As a resul the colonial expansion wars are put in the context of this much older history too. As such a long history is discussed, a dialogue between the genuine interest and the violence cannot be established.
‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History: In the East Indies’
The second part of the exhibition, called ‘In the East Indies’ deals with the later period of colonisation until the Second World War. We see the same elements coming back that we saw earlier: reflection on collecting and presenting, and the two sides of colonialism. The introductory text informs us that history from 1900 on is told, informing us about racial segregation in Indonesian society and the ‘Ethical Policy’ implemented in the beginning of the 20th century. It concludes with the goal of the presentation; namely, to highlight the many contradictions in colonial society during the Ethical Policy
There are four presentations here, on education, on entrepreneurship, the daily life in Indonesia and, forming the heart of the presentation, the ‘colonial theater’. Much has been said about this colonial theater; it was praised at the conference ‘
Tropenmuseum for a change!, as well as in several other publications.70 It consist’s of several mannequins representing different figures. The mannequins harken to the long tradition of use of mannequins in the museum to present the other and at the same time to the practice of exhibiting people. 71 Here however, it is reversed. Not only the other is on display, but foremost the self (that is to say the colonisers): both Dutch and Indo (of mixed European and Indonesian descent). Natives are missing. The figures are either fictional characters from novels, such as Willem Himpies van Kleyntjes, or real figures like Governor General JHR. Mr Bonfacius Cornelis de Jonge. One can listen to stories told from their perspective through headphones.(Figure 2).
These two figures will be shortly discussed, in addition to Anna Elink van
Maarseveen, as they give a good overview of the group of mannequins. De Jonge was the head of government in the Dutch East Indies. He is the typical coloniser, denigrating Indonesian nationalism. He stands proudly in his white uniform in a luxurious setting. His pride contrasts with Himpies, based on a character from the story De tienduizend dingen by Maria Dermout, set somewhere between 1910 and 1930. In the beginning of the novel, Himpies is already dead, killed by an arrow in the jungle. His story is told from the perspective of his mother. Here, we see him at the moment he is killed. Although
70
van Dijk, Legêne (eds.) The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum,; van Dartel (ed).
Tropenmuseum for a Change.
71
wearing a military uniform and leaning on his rifle, as Edy Seriese commented, he is hardly a seasoned soldier.72 In his time, the KNIl did not have any problems
withstanding local poisonous arrows. It was a well trained and seasoned army, unlike the weak looking Himpies. Finally, we see van Maarseveen, the wife of a missionary, who lived from 1887 to 1961, and went to Indonesia in 1917. We hear the story of her struggle to convert people in a strange foreign place. She worked hard for years without success, until finally, after she successfully saved a baby, first the mother and slowly more and more of the villagers converted.
Figure 2. The Colonial Theater. Central stands HimpiesImage available at Tropenmuseum n.p.,n.d. Web. 16 June 2014. < http://tropenmuseum.nl/nl/tentoonstelling/nederlands-indie>.
72
Edy Seriese, ‘The Arrows Aim. Coloured comments on Dutch Colonial Drama’ in van Dijk, Legêne (eds.) The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum, p. 180.
According to curator Susan Legêne with this reversal they wanted to ‘lead the contemporary visitor on to the historical setting of early twentieth-century colonialism, and its museums history’. 73 By doing so they intended to: ‘go beyond the essentialised understanding of Indonesian culture’ and instead think of the collections as shared cultural heritage.74
The reversal of roles, putting the self on display, is an innovative find, but there are some points to be made. First of all, the connection to past practices of showing mannequins or real people is missing. One cannot assume people know of this. No explicit reference is made to these past practices: not in text, or in pictures of past presentations. Only in the following room it is mentioned shortly in a text about the world exhibitions, but again not supported by photographs of the practice. The connection is even harder to make, because it is a false reversal. Of course because there are no real people on display, but mannequins. But even in suggesting past practices of using mannequins to present cultures, it is false, because the figures have some glass limbs. The idea behind this was specifically to show that they are not real people, thus
countering the myth that the museum can tell the story of people. 75 In making this point, it hides the fact that this was exactly the idea behind past presentations. And as we shall see regarding the story of Soewarsih Djojopoespito in the section on education it still is. But it is most of all it is a false reversal because these mannequins have exactly what mannequins and people on display in the past didn’t have: a voice.
Although with hindsight, people can be critical of De Jonge or Himpies and even Anna Elink van Maarseveen, one can also identify with and relate to them. You can understand why they went or did what they did, even if you would not agree with the practices. Although it gives an interesting overview of several characters in the colony, and the concept of putting the self on display is interesting, the half reversal and the lack of explicit references make it too complicated to connect. Furthermore, real controversial figures like General van Heutsz are missing.
In the reversal there is no longer an essentialized notion of Indonesians, but
73
Legêne, ‘Enlightment, Emphaty, Retreat.’, p. 239.
74
Legêne, ‘Enlightment, Emphaty, Retreat.’, p. 239. 75
these past practices are not explicitly questioned. As the colonized are absent the condition in which this ‘shared heritage’ came into being are not discussed. The colonized are here no longer essentialized, but still voiceless. The introductory text on education mentions the idea that Indonesians needed to be educated (‘opvoeden’ in the Dutch text better conveys the notion of white man’s burden), and describes segregation and job discrimination regarding government positions. This is not, however, reflected in the objects, which are ordinary school notebooks, children literature and a school
poster. We already saw a similar school poster in the presentation on colonial wars, depicting the conquest of Tjakranegara. But here, we see a far more benign one, showing a station. Both posters only serve as illustrative material, as they once
functioned as school posters. No mention is made of what children were actually taught, let alone on the subjects of war. What we see instead is a movie without sound of
children at a model school, a group of them happily crowding through the school gates. There is also a mannequin here, a woman standing behind a school board, looking at the visitors. Again, as an object, it could denote a happy class.If the visitor sits down and picks up a pair of headphones, they find out that she is supposed to be Soewarsih Djojopoespito, a school teacher that worked at ‘unofficial schools,’ schools for Indonesian children with Indonesian teachers. Her story of self-chosen hardship for her ideals is by far the most gripping in the exhibition. But the relation of the story to the mannequin is a bit strange. As she is not part of the theater, it is less prominent. And where the mannequins of fictional characters are casts of real people, and in the case of historical figures are created after photographs, the mannequin here is far less real. It is in fact one of the oldest mannequins in the museum, used in many presentations, and definitely not Djojopoespito.76 But this information is not presented. Here a mannequin is used to tell the story an Indonesian, of an other. The presence of this mannequin makes the reversal attempted in the colonial theater even less clear.
We see the same issue at the presentation on entrepreneurship. The texts are critical, naming the practice of hiring ‘Coolies’ contract workers taken from China or Java to work on plantations in Sumatra, and describing the harsh conditions they had to work in. Again, this is not reflected in the objects, as only object referring to another side
76
of entrepreneuring is pockets in which opium was traded. The section on daily live in Indonesia is the smallest consisting of a old movies giving an impression of live for the (Indo) Dutch in Indonesia.
‘The Netherlands Indies, A Colonial History: Exploring and Exhibiting’
The final room ‘Exploring and Exhibiting’ focuses on the past practices of anthropology and connects with the exhibition on New Guinea presented next to it. The use of photography is especially interesting here. In the centre, there is a mannequin of the anthropologist Charles Constant François Marie le Roux, with in front of him, an image he shot. Thus we see not only what he saw (making the visitor a bystander), we also see a original picture of him taking the photo. This picture is shown in a showcase next to his personal items and things needed for a long expedition. The link between physical anthropology and photography is further made clear in the text and in the display of tools of physical anthropology, including a anthropological portrait of a man from New Guinea. In contrast to the presentation on colonial wars, one case is taken to exemplify the whole practice. The contrast of the three images, the one he shot, the one of him taking it and the ‘mugshot’ make the whole practice of physical anthropology clear.
The two other presentations here are on the world exhibitions and on missionary practices. The first uses objects once displayed on world exhibitions, but connotes them differently. No longer does the model ambulance connote healthcare. The model planes and bridges are no longer are connoted as symbols of the progress they were supposed to bring, but they are connoted as the way in which the Dutch wanted to show that they brought progress. To make sure the right message is conveyed, the items only light up if one presses a button for a certain theme, assuming people read the text next to the button. Here too is the only mention of the practice of exhibiting people: ‘[Small
puppets] were made for exhibitions to show the dress of the various peoples’ (...) there were even replica villages with real people from Java, Sumatra, and Bali.’
Conclusion
Already after the refurbishment in 1975, the director of the Tropenmuseum commented: ‘the time of tempo Doeloe is over”. All references to the colonial past had been
removed from display, what remained to be seen were the decorations ingrained in the building itself. Inside, the colonial involvement of the museum could only be deduced from the large ethnographic collection. It was only after the refurbishment that was finished in 2008 that the colonial past returned to the museum. The objects that once were sent to depots, because they were a source of shame or simply not useful anymore, were used to tell a different story in the section ‘The Netherlands Indies. A colonial History’.
We have seen that the interest for culture and trade has been widely discussed through the acts of collecting, as shown by the collection of Rumphius and the other collections as well as the presentation on world exhibitions. That the making of a
collection of all objects that could be called colonial was the starting point can clearly be seen in the presentation. In all the sections, there is a relation to the history of the museum. In this respect, it has truly confronted “its past head on.” But the emphasis is on its past. The focus is on collecting and presenting history. Structural violence in the colonies and racial segregation are presented in text, but one is not confronted with it. The same can be said for the colonial wars. The choice to use an interactive display makes it so that one has to look for proof of the ‘many colonial wars.’ One has to seek them out. It stands as an interesting metaphor for the state of colonial aphasia: it is not an absence of traces, but a difficulty speaking of that past. The photographs are not treated as objects and the violence is not part of the discourse, although it is there if one cares to look for it.
Overall, it is not an object-based presentation. Objects function more as mise en scene than as objects with stories of themselves. That the critical view is not reflected in the objects can be explained as a limitation of the collection; after all, the museum was built to praise colonisation, and not to critique it, but this explanation is too simple. In the section on Surinam and the Caribbean the choice was made to collect new objects. And in Spiegelreflex Susan Legêne in fact extensively explored the multilayered history of objects in the collection of the Tropenmuseum. She shows how objects played a role in creating colonial categories and self-colonisation.
She discusses for example a colonial kwartetspel a game used for a cardgame similar to Go Fish, and argues that Indonesia is presented as an unchanging entity with clear distinctions between racial types.78 That the objects only function as props in the exhibition might have not been to the liking of Susan Legêne, as she finds it
necessary to state in the introduction to Spiegelreflex: ‘The emphasis lay in the museum on multidisciplinary teamwork, without which an exhibition like Oostwaarts! would have been impossible, this book describes paths that I occasionally took as a historian. 79
And there are even some objects on display that could have told the story, but instead simply function as props. The weapons on display are only there as pieces of craftsmanship. The photographs of the colonial wars can be seen, but not as actual objects.
Instead what accounts for the juxtaposition in the introduction between the painting and the textile can be said to account for the whole exhibition of ‘The
Netherlands Indies, A colonial History’. They are two separate stories, one of genuine interest and one of violence, that do not engage in dialogue. This is reflected in the introductory texts of the different rooms, but also by situating it in the larger presentation on the floor ‘Art, Culture and Colonialism.’
In the section Cloves and Powder, the interest in collecting, the trade and the colonial violence, although close in proximity, do not interact. Early collection history and the early days of colonisation stand central in this room, but the screen
78
‘ Susan Legêne, Spiegelreflex. Culturele sporen van de koloniale ervaring (Amsterdam: Bert Bakker 2010) p.166,168.
79
presentation of colonial wars spans four centuries and the objects related to the violence are all only 19th century. While the history of collecting is told, it does not do so for specific objects, such as the ones presented in the section of spiritual culture of South East Asia. Thus cloves are not related to powder: knowledge is not related to power. An attempt was made to link the two in the colonial theater, reversing the practice of presenting people and having them tell the story of colonialism. But this attempt misses effect, because the link is not made explicit and because it is a false reversal.
The most recent periods are missing from the presentation. The (still ongoing) decolonisation is only discussed in the screen presentation, and in a video on the rise of nationalism. It is never explained why there are now Indo’s and Mollucans and their descendants here now, or the influence the colonisation had on present day Indonesia. A nice object to tell this story with would have been the Wayang puppets from 1979. Why were puppets then made for theater telling the story of the Aceh war? This would have been a good way to discuss the Indonesian collective memory that is mentioned in the introductory text. As it is now, this memory is absent.
While the colonial past of the museum is once again taken from its depots, the most confronting pieces still lie there: the photographs showing violence. In the colonial theater the most controversial figures, the Lieutenant-General Van Heutsz or a
Raymond Westerling, are still absent. And even in the section on anthropology, while it becomes clear that this was a strange, and for now even uncomfortable practice, the full extent of this practice remains hidden; the human remains in the collection of the
Tropenmuseum still lie in the depots. Displaying these is ethically complicated to say the least, but there are other ways to refer to them. The mass and structural violence are not absent, nor is the problematic role of knowledge creation, but there is a ‘difficulty speaking of this past’. As Wayne Modest, now head curator at the museum stated, the exhibition ‘The Netherlands Indies, A colonial History’ is euphemistic.
As we have seen in the opening text, the goal is to recall the final period of colonial rule, for this is what is remembered in the collective memory. The exhibit reflects collective memory, but does not influence it. In this sense, it is nostalgic. But most of all the exhibition is a reflection on the museums own colonial past. As can be
seen in the book The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum. A colonial history. For here too, the poem of Jac van der Ster was quoted, but only the first part:
‘They organized Beauty and Crafts Coolly on view, with label behind glass They stole the dreams of a people and put them on display for a dime.’80
Noting that “Today in Eastward Bound (...) this critique is presented as a historical critique’.81 In this, the exhibition has succeeded. But just as the quoted poem, the exhibition is not complete. The poem continues:
The statistics show us so much rubber, so much rice, and so much Cajuput But from these graphs one is missing, one that tells us so much blood.(...)
Still the exhibition does not show us how much blood was shed during colonialism. Or perhaps only in a ‘graph’: in the abstract. For the victims are missing. Furthermore the collection history is not linked to the violence; the two parts of the poem that is the exhibit are not linked.
80
van Dijk, Legêne (eds.) The Netherlands East Indies at the Tropenmuseum, p.18. 81
