Born Here or Made Here?
An Analysis of National Performativity in 21
stCentury Netherlands
Master Thesis Comparative Cultural Analysis 2014-2015 Written by Michelle Playford (10000404)
Supervised by Marie Beauchamps University of Amsterdam
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Table of Contents
Introduction ... 3
Political Turbulence in the 21
stCentury………..3
Representation, Language and Performativity………4
Structure of thesis………6
1. Contemporary Performances of the National We ... 8
Performing the National We in National Anthems………...8
A Royal Performance……….11
Performing the Homeland………..13
Creating the Borders of the Homeland………...15
Conclusion………..18
2. National Citizenship: Not for Everyone……….19
Who Is a National Citizen?...20
The Difference between Expats and Immigrants………23
Unequal Naming……….27
Conclusion………...31
3. Resisting the Words of Others………33
Online Styles of Speaking Back……….35
What’s in a Name? ………38
An Online Collective……….41
Conclusion………..43
Conclusion………..44
From Imagination to Realisation………... 45
Cited works………48
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Introduction
In 2007, Maxima, at the time the future queen of the Netherlands, gave a speech detailing her search for Dutch identity. Her conclusion: there is no such thing as the Dutch identity, or, at least, she had not been able to find one. “Nederland is te veelzijdig om in één cliché te vatten” (“The Netherlands is too multi-faceted to be described in just one cliché”).1
Reassuringly, Maxima writes, there is no such thing as the Argentine identity either, the country where she was born and raised.
In the last few years, Maxima has played a central role in some of the most important national ceremonies like the coronation of King Willem-Alexander and the annual
Koningsdag celebrations. She is a celebrity in her own right, her dresses and remarks extensively discussed on Dutch television. As an outsider, she has been wholeheartedly accepted into the Dutch collective. She would therefore appear to have a unique position to comment on Dutch-ness. But does her remark that there is not simply one Dutch identity, or perhaps a right Dutch identity, fit the experience of nationality in the Netherlands today? Maxima seems to have cracked the “right” way to be Dutch, although she hasn’t been able to, or doesn’t want to, analyse what the right way of being Dutch is.
Political Turbulence in the 21st Century
In the years since Maxima’s speech, the Netherlands has experienced some political turbulence. The issue of Dutch-ness and, perhaps, more importantly who is Dutch has become a staple of news broadcasts. As Jan-Willem Duyvendak phrased it: “Even in countries such as the Netherlands, which were previously ‘light’ on nationalism, we now see a rather desperate search for shared national symbols, canons, icons, practices and stories” (23). The last few years, then, have seen the importance of the national narrative grow and dangers to national safety emphasised. What is typical of this “desperate search”?
In the years since the millennium, the search for a national narrative has been connected to the debate surrounding immigration. As the demographics of Dutch society changed, the debate on which individuals should be allowed to immigrate to the country has become increasingly heated. This debate on immigration is connected to the national narrative through an idealised idea of the past and “how things were.” In the Netherlands, right-wing politician Geert Wilders has become the figure head for this new nationalism, exemplified by
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an idealised image of the Netherlands. This idealised image is illustrated by a 2009 PVV recruitment video. In this video, Wilders and his number two Fleur Agema are rowing through an idyllic Dutch landscape. They are on a wide canal, surrounded by endless grassy fields, windmills and cyclists. They express the Netherlands that their party stands for and wants to realise: “The Netherlands, a country where you feel at home again.”
As Agema states in the video, this place is a place to feel home again. The two politicians are not claiming that this is how the Netherlands looks now, but how the country once looked and should look like again. Because the Netherlands does look like the video, with canals, windmills and grassy fields. But the Netherlands is also one of the most densely populated countries in the world, where most of the population lives in one of the big cities in the West, not in the scarcely populated rural country of the North or South-East. The campaign video is idealizing the Dutch nation based on how part of the Netherlands looks now and how most of the Netherlands looked in the past. The depiction of the rural Netherlands in the video refers to other aspects of life that have changed as well, for example the faster pace of modern life, the crowded
neighbourhoods and the impact of immigration. The video demonstrates how, in the eyes of the PVV, all of these factors contribute to a Netherlands where it is harder to feel at home.
Methods: Representation, Language and Performativity
The PVV campaign video presents an idealised image of the Netherlands, instead of the country where it is harder to feel at home, because of changing neighbourhoods and demographics. How does the video succeed in broadcasting its message without explicitly showing or referring to this scenario? The video has to refer to something that most of the viewers are familiar with, tapping into implicit knowledge that possible PVV voters would have. The representation of the two Dutch nations – the idealized, better one and the
everyday, worse one – are presented through the images in the video. Stuart Hall writes that “representation is the way in which meaning is somehow given to the things which are depicted through the images […] on screens or the words on a page which stand for what we’re talking about” (6). The images in the video stand for the message that the PVV video is, Screenshot from 2009 PVV recruitment video
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implicitly, talking about: what causes the voter to feel at home in the Netherlands? The PVV message is that the Netherlands would be better off with stricter immigration laws. In the video, immigrants are represented through their absence, while the idyllic Dutch landscape is represented as where Dutch citizens will feel at home again. Implicit in this image is the connection between feeling at home and the absence of immigrants, who, in the eyes of the PVV, have changed the appearance of the “Dutch” landscape.
The connection between immigrants and feeling less at home plays an important role in the politics of Wilders and the PVV. This connection is made through the language that Wilders, and other politicians, use. “Language externalizes – it makes available and accessible as a social fact, a social process – the meanings that we are making of the world and of
events” (Hall 11). An analysis of the language that is employed to represent the Dutch nation reveals “the social process” of representing the Dutch nation. This process becomes obvious through the representation of the individuals that belong to the Dutch nation.
For instance, Sara Ahmed describes how individuals are represented as meanings “stick” to certain bodies: “In the attachment of a sign to a body, whereby a sign sticks to a body by constituting it as the object of fear […] encircling it with a fear that becomes its own” (“Economies” 127). Fear is an example of a sign that has become stuck to immigrant bodies, a fear that is simmering under the surface of the campaign video. Without the connection
between fear and immigrants that has been established in political language, the video would not be able to infer the representation of the Dutch nation as it does. Similarly, I analyse the language of various cultural objects to reveal how individuals are represented in different types of ceremonial and political language in this thesis. I utilise this analysis to draw conclusions about how the nation is represented and constructed.
The implicit reference to a Netherlands damaged by immigration is so successful because it has continually been established through right-wing language like that of Wilders. Language is inherently performative because it is a process and an act that involves
embodiment (Bala 14, 15). When analysing the performativity of nation-ness, it is important to keep in mind those three key elements: language as a process and an act that involves embodiment.
Firstly, the performance of nationality is a process, because it is on-going and never finished. Bala describes the continuation of language as follows: “To say something is performative thus implies it is not finished yet, that it is lively, it is taking shape in the crossroads of real life (19). Secondly, language is an act, as the project of nation-ness is
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visible in certain moments where nationality is acted or performed. These moments may not be a performance in the literal sense, they are not presented as a performance or a spectacle, but they do involve doing instead of being. “Recognising the importance of performative practices means giving importance to gestures, acts and expressions […]” (Bala 18). As will become apparent in this thesis, nationality is something you do instead of something you are. Finally, performativity involves embodiment which means that nationality is performed by bodies and simultaneously projected onto them. For example, how the Dutch nation is represented in the PVV campaign video by the absence of immigrant and Muslim bodies. Nationality is performed through and by certain individuals.
Keeping in mind the three elements of Bala’s theory of performance, in this thesis I look at how language constructs individuals, but also how individuals employ language to construct themselves. In other words, in each of the objects that are the focus of this thesis, I analyse how individuals are performing themselves. Specifically, I demonstrate how, in these specific case studies, an individual’s performance connects to the wider, collective
performance of the nation.
Structure of Thesis
This thesis is driven by an interest in nationality, which I define as the connection of an individual to a national community and a nation-state. What kind of shape does nationality take, how does it manifest itself and what are the consequences of the specific manifestations of nationality?
Woven through this thesis is Anne Marie Fortier’s theory of the national collective as detailed in Multicultural Horizons. She writes that the national collective needs to be
witnessed, questioned and imagined to be formed. “These deliberations may cast the nation/al in different temporalities – the past, present, and future – but they all meet in their quest to understand who the national ‘we’ is, what it means at this particular moment in time, and what the limits of the nation/al are” (3). The representation of the national “we” needs to be constructed with the past, present and future of the nation in mind. Who is (part of) the
national collective? Is the representation of the national collective an accurate reflection of the national collective? What kind of national collective can we imagine for the future?
My research question can be phrased as follows: how is Dutch nationality performed in the 21st century and what are the consequences of this performance? My focus is on the acts
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that do nationality and the individuals (the actors) who perform nationality. Additionally, I limit myself to Dutch nationality, specifically in the 21st century (or after the year 2000).
In the first chapter, I determine how the national collective comes into being. Through an analysis of national anthems, I demonstrate how individuals must be recognised as Dutch and recognise others as Dutch to form a national collective. Then I move on to analysis of Willem Alexander’s 2014 Christmas speech. I determine how a representation of the Dutch nation as a homeland is essential for the formation of a national collective and how individuals are made to feel at home in the Dutch nation through recognition. But this representation as home has consequences, as it excludes certain individuals from belonging to the Dutch nation.
In the second chapter, I look at how the representation of nationality includes certain individuals while excluding others. This chapter focuses on the aspect of questioning the national collective: what qualities and values does someone need to be (recognised as) Dutch? I scrutinize citizenship tests and the ways they are utilised to inform values of Dutch-ness. Then, I interpret how values of citizenship, like participation, differentiate between
individuals. Focusing on the difference between expats and immigrants, I unfold how individuals appear to be distinguished by their amount of capital, while they are actually discriminated on the basis of race and religion. These implicit evaluations are present in the difference between explicit and implicit uses of a word like allochtoon.
In the third chapter, I analyse the hashtag #bornhere to consider the possibilities of resisting the representation of an exclusive Dutch nationality. Ways of imagining plays an important role in this part – how do individuals imagine Dutch nationality outside of the framework that is presented to them by the nation-state? In the #bornhere case, individuals exhibited a combination of creativity, digital media and awareness of national stereotypes to form a representation of themselves on their own terms. The #bornhere images portray a group that is part of the Dutch national collective, but not exclusively so. Furthermore, their place in the national collective is not dependent on the criteria of race and religion that are habitually employed to establish Dutch nationality.
Finally, in the conclusion, I ponder the question: if it is possible to imagine a more inclusive (Dutch) nation, does this necessarily mean that this more inclusive nation will be realised? Or does the framework of the nation-state cause a more inclusive nation to remain just a figment of a collective imagination?
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1. Contemporary Performances of the National We
The nation is founded on its people, the individuals that are (called) English, French or Dutch. Benedict Anderson describes the nation as an “imagined community” because “the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion” (6). A nation’s legitimacy depends on the ideas and imagining of the people in the nation, about the nation.In this chapter, I focus on the aspect of witnessing, by analysing how the Dutch national we is constructed around processes of recognition. This process revolves around recognising who the national we is and being recognised as the national we. Being recognised as part of the national we involves being “witness-able” as part of the national collective – exhibiting certain traits that are regarded as portraying Dutch-ness. An individual witnesses others and it is only through the eyes of others, by being recognised as Dutch that an individual becomes part of the national we. Furthermore, individuals who are not part of the national we are recognised as strangers (Ahmed “Strangers” 19). So, tied to recognition are aspects of familiarity as well. Witnessing is an act, where one actively recognises certain traits. An individual needs to be familiar with certain traits to actively recognise them. This chapter concentrates on an analysis of how recognition and familiarity are tied to sentiments of home, through a close reading of a speech made by Dutch King Willem Alexander.
First, I demonstrate how the national we is performed in national anthems by connecting the past and present of the nation through the individual. Then, I discuss the importance of ceremonial speeches in constructing a national narrative, focusing on Willem Alexander’s Christmas speech. I go on to analyse how Willem Alexander describes the Dutch nation as a homeland by demonstrating how his portrayal of the Dutch nation as a homeland is connected to notions of safety and familiarity. Finally, I look at how describing the Dutch nation as a safe and familiar home emphasises the danger of the unfamiliar, consequently excluding certain individuals from feeling at home in the Dutch homeland.
Performing the National We in National Anthems
When relating the words “national” and “performance” one instance immediately springs to mind: the performance of a national anthem. The singing of a national anthem has an important symbolic and ritual value because it connects individuals to the nation. Picture
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the following scene: Dutch track athlete Dafne Schippers has just convincingly beat the competition, storming to a win in the 100 and
200 metres sprint during the 2014 European Athletics Championship. The sun is setting over the large stadium in Zurich, as Schippers stands on the top tier of the podium. The national anthem starts playing. A tear rolls down her cheek.2 Of course, not all performances of
national anthems are this emotional nor does
each individual singing it do so for the same reasons. But the above example illustrates the connection between the individual and the nation and how deep-rooted that connection can appear and feel.
National anthems are sung by the individuals that make up the national collective. By performing the national anthem, these individuals are performing their nationality. During the performance these individuals inhabit a double position. This position can be analysed in light of Fortier’s concept of witnessing: the individual who sings the national anthem is outwardly exhibiting their nationality. For others they are recognisable as part of the national collective. They are there to be witnessed, which has also been defined by Homi K. Bhabha as the “enunciatory ‘present’” of the nation (147). In The Location of Culture Bhabha theorizes about ness and how the nation is performed by the individuals subject to the nation-state. According to Bhabha, the nation needs to be performed in the present to form a visible, outwardly link between the nation and national individuals. The performance of a national anthem demonstrates this outwardly link. Accordingly, the national anthem is an example of an explicit performance of the nation in the present.
This enunciatory position of the individual becomes a dual position as the individual singing the national anthem does not only represent the present, but past manifestations of the nation as well. The past is reflected in the national anthem as its lyrics often chronicle a past of the nation and the individuals that played a role in that history. By describing a past national collective, the national anthem represents some past of the nation. The national collective, then, is simultaneously represented as “an a priori historical presence” (Bhabha 147). This presence is the result of a past national collective that cannot be witnessed in the
2 The image of Dafne Schippers crying during the Dutch national anthem was nominated for the Sport in Beeld (Sport broadcasst) prize 2014.
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present and so is represented through the performance national anthem. The performance allows individuals in the present to witness the past of the nation.
Bhabha writes that the past of the nation, and the past national collective, are considered an a priori historical presence (147). Thinking of the national collective as a priori, means that the national collective is considered as something that has always,
unquestionably, existed. But while nations may seem like ancient institutions, stretching back centuries, nations are more historicized than historical. Benedict Anderson writes: “If nation-states are widely conceded to be ‘new’ and ‘historical’, the nations to which they give political expression always loom out of an immemorial past, and, still more important, glide into a limitless future” (11-12). Therefore, the nation and the national collective only appear to be historical and a priori things, while, in fact, they are the result of a contemporary performance which historicises a past of the nation.
Bhabha details how the national collective is the result of a performance, as it is “marked in repetition and pulsation of the national sign” (147). The ongoing enactment of the national collective is necessary for its continuing existence. Moreover, the national collective needs to be performed in the present to become part of the historical fact. Bhabha describes the community “envisaged as a project,” that is “at once a vision and a construction” (3). First the national collective has to be imagined in order to be thought into existence, and then it has to be witnessed in order to confirm that existence. Hence the importance of the national
anthem: history is being made in the present through the repeated performance of the anthem. The repetition of national performance is exemplified by traditions. The national
anthem is an essential part of national traditions: it is played at medal ceremonies, coronations and state funerals. According to historian Eric Hobsbawm, a function of traditions is to
“[establish] or [symbolize] social cohesion or the membership of groups, real or artificial communities” (14). Through the performance of the national anthem, individuals become part of the national collective. The national collective of the present is connected to the national collective of the past, which is portrayed in the lyrics of the national anthem. Traditions, then, play an important role in establishing the national we, as the performance of these traditions establish the legitimacy of the nation while they make nationality recognisable to outsiders. So, national anthems demonstrate how the notion of being recognised is an important factor in constructing the national we. The national anthem is an example of an explicit performance of nationality, recognisable to (almost) all because of the established connection between singing a national anthem and being part of the national collective. It would be seen
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as odd if an athlete representing the Netherlands in the Olympics chose to sing the German national anthem at the medal ceremony. Nevertheless, the national we can be constructed on more implicit foundations as well. I will uncover a more implicit rendition of the national we in the annual Christmas speech made by Dutch King Willem Alexander in 2014.
A Royal Performance
Ceremonial speeches made by heads of state are an important object in the discourse of nation-ness, as they are a moment where the nation and its values are established. Ruth Wodak writes that “national narratives […] do not operate in a vacuum. Rather, they are produced, reproduced and spread by actors in concrete (institutionalized) contexts” (147). In this case, the institutionalized context is a yearly speech made on Christmas day by the Dutch King (or Queen). Christoph Sauer describes the particular language uses in ceremonial oral speeches as follows:
[Typical written elements of these oral pieces] signal institutional (political) contexts. Often they encode ‘authority’ by associating control mechanisms. In general, the oral-written hybridization accentuates the speaker’s position in the political universe as a person who maintains discoursal power. (121)
So, an address is a hybrid form of language that combines written and spoken elements; it is both different to a face-to-face conversation and written text. As stated by Sauer, this type of address “accentuates the speaker’s position in the political universe.” This specific kind of Christmas speech can only be given by the King, whose role in the political universe is important and influential, but also largely symbolic.3
For example, the official website of the Dutch royal family calls the role of the head of state “onpartijdig” (“impartial”). But if King Willem-Alexander is impartial to Dutch politics, what kind of position does this speech signify and what kind of “discoursal power” does he wield? Sauer describes how the author of a text (the one who is giving the speech) has three functions: the author offers a specific “perspective,” functions as a “mediator” and creates a “communication community” (118).
3 The Dutch King’s formal responsibilities involve signing laws and signing off on the decisions made
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Firstly, Willem Alexander embodies Sauer’s first function, by giving a certain perspective on events that have happened in the Netherlands during 2014. Through the speech, he reflects on past events that have been significant and looks forward to the future. Speeches like this one are important for the “national narrative” and create a representation of the past year in the context of the Dutch nation. The national narrative, then, is the specific Dutch history. The Christmas speech functions as an address about the Dutch nation to the Dutch nation.
Secondly, Willem Alexander “occupies the position of a mediator between the represented facts and his public” (Sauer 120). He has a particular role in the discourse of Dutch-ness, as he not only represents the nation (and stands for it), but he “represents the nation to itself” by depicting it as well (Billig 98). As Billig points out, just like members of the national collective, the Dutch King inhabits a dual position: he is a present enunciation of the Dutch nation (he stands for the nation) and he represents the past of the nation (represents the nation to itself). But because of his particular status as king, his position is different to that of “ordinary” members of the national collective. National individuals stand for the nation in all their ordinary individuality. On the contrary, the Christmas speech is detached from Willem Alexander as an individual. He is de-personalized to become only a representation of the Dutch nation. His individual opinions, perspective and values play no role in the speech, evident in the sparse use of the first person pronoun.
Studying the use of pronouns helps further identify how Willem Alexander forms a “communication community” in the speech. This community is defined by “the occasion of the speech, the place, the moment and the speaker’s representative function” (Sauer 119). All those elements of the speech point to the communication community as being the Dutch people. This statement is further supported by Anita Fetzer’s theory of pronouns in political speech. She writes that “in the context of a [political] speech, speakers […] may also use the first-person plural pronoun we, thus indexing a social group on whose behalf they are speaking, thereby expressing solidarity as well as group identity, while at the same time laying claim to leadership” (132). In the Christmas speech, Willem Alexander says the word “we” 19 times, almost in every paragraph. As Fetzer points out, this constant use of “we” creates a social group, expresses the identity of that group and asserts leadership.
Through this speech, then, Willem Alexander is addressing a national we, representing the Dutch nation and formulating the values that identify the members of this Dutch
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Performing the Homeland
One of the most important aspects of constructing a national we is that the individuals that make up the national collective recognise themselves in the national we represented. In Fortier’s terms, they must witness themselves and be able to be witnessed. The conception of the national we
[…] oscillates between conceptions founded on the embodied […] – where people in their ordinariness are the referent – and the disembodied citizen […] – the utopian moment of abstraction, where the nation is an assumed bond, an imagined community of shared allegiance [...]. (Fortier 35-36)
Here, Fortier points to two referents: the people in “their ordinariness” and the nation “as an assumed bond.” What is the connection – the “assumed bond” – between the individual and the nation? One answer could be that the nation is often considered a homeland, a place where individuals feel at home. For example, one of the most important themes in Willem
Alexander’s Christmas speech is (feeling at) home, as illustrated by the following excerpt.
Waar verdriet, twijfel en onzekerheid heersen, zoeken mensen houvast en beschutting bij elkaar. Thuis. Bij vrienden of familie. In een religieuze gemeenschap. Of in een andere omgeving die veilig en vertrouwd voelt.
Where sorrow, doubt and insecurity reign, people look for support/foundation and protection with each other. At home. With friends or family. In a religious community. Or in another place that feels safe and familiar.
The above excerpt from Willem Alexander’s speech demonstrates how home is first, and foremost, connected to being with “each other,” especially in turbulent times ruled by “doubt” and “insecurity.” In the following sentence, the abstract notion of home is filled in with “friends and family” or “a religious community.” The last remark, “or in another place,” is perhaps meant to limit exclusion. Even those without a religious community, a family or friends still need somewhere that feels safe and familiar. This passage declares that home is a place with other people. Being with others creates security in times of insecurity. Home thus connects with notions of a “we”; a “we” that is “safe” and “familiar.”
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Willem Alexander constructs a particular notion of home in his speech, sticking to vague and implicit descriptions. These vague sketches fit with how Jan Willem Duyvendak’s analysis of how the concept of home is constructed in the Netherlands (and other Western countries). Duyvendak points out the difficulty of concretely articulating what (feeling at) home is (27). Nonetheless, these sentiments have played an important role in national politics of the 21st century:
The framing of the nation itself as ‘home’ is a notable characteristic of the debates raging in Western Europe. While this is nothing new in the history of nationalism, the longing for a homogeneous national home is a novel development in those European countries that had so assiduously distanced themselves from traditions of ‘Boden,’ ‘soil’ and ‘Heimat’ in the postwar years. (Duyvendak 1)
Duyvendak notes here that the contemporary meaning of home differs from previous associations of the nation with “soil” or Boden, which are more natural conceptions of the nation as a home. But, even if some countries distanced themselves from these more natural conceptions of home, the importance of the nation framed as a homeland remained.
Duyvendak also details how the concept of home has become politicized in the 21st century.
The home has become something cultural that informs the values of the nation, “where one group’s ability to feel at home comes at the expense of other groups” (Duyvendak 5). So cultural notions of home, who belongs here, have become tied to political notions of home, who is allowed to immigrate or reside in the homeland.
Contemporary meanings of the national homeland intertwine two conceptions of home: a familiar safe haven and a “heaven” that is a place that “embodies shared histories; a material and/or symbolic place with one’s own people and activities” (Duyvendak 38). Especially the aspect of home as haven is reflected in the above excerpt of Willem
Alexander’s speech. He says that in response to sadness, doubt and insecurity, people band together looking for houvast and beschutting at home. Beschutting means a thing to hide under, to keep you safe from bad weather or keep intruders out. Houvast literally means a thing to hold on to, referring to something familiar or stable that gives you grip when you lose your footing.
The above passage from the speech illustrates how home is connected to safety, familiarity and predictability. It thereby ties in with Duyvendak’s further observations, as he
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writes that: “‘Homeland’ today is conceptualized as the national extension of the old ideal of the secure, private home” (Duyvendak 22). This speech, as a national address by the King, reveals how more traditional values of home are being connected to concerns of national safety. The Dutch nation is where you feel at home and, consequentially, where you feel safe and familiar with your surroundings. The representation of the Dutch nation as a home emphasizes the connection between familiarity and safety, unfamiliarity and danger.
Creating the Borders of the Homeland
If the Dutch nation is where you feel safe, where you are protected, what do you need to be protected from? What is the threat to the homeland? Willem Alexander’s speech
continues in the following terms:
Aan de grenzen van Europa vinden felle krachtmetingen plaats. De oorzaken vormen een ondoorzichtige kluwen die nauwelijks is te ontwarren.
At Europe’s borders, fierce battles (literally: tests of strength) are taking place. The causes form an opaque knot or mass that can hardly be unravelled.
In this passage, Willem Alexander chronicles the fierce battles that are taking place at the borders of Europe. The representation of national borders is inherently connected to the constitution of the national collective. As Ulrike Hanna Meinhoff writes, “geopolitical frontiers between nation-states often closely interact and determine people’s perception and self-identification and thus also the ‘othering’ of those who are not seen as belonging to one’s own group” (2). But the forces that are threatening Europe’s borders are not clear at all.4 The
threat is opaque, not transparent. The words kluwen en ontwarren call up an image of different threads that have become tangled, making it impossible to get to the source. In this
4 The notion of European borders is problematic. What, and where, exactly are Europe’s borders?
Later on in his speech, Willem Alexander refers to “een Europa verbonden door vrijheid en democratische beginselen” (“a Europe connected by freedom and democratic principles”). In this speech, Europe’s borders are symbolically defined by European values. But, what exactly is freedom or democracy in this (European) sense? Is it possible to state that all of Europe, from the Netherlands to Greece, share the same values of freedom and democracy? Is it European freedom, perhaps, because it is only for Europeans?
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passage, danger and threats are connected to the unknown, the impenetrable, which is contrasted with the notion of home which is safe and familiar.
The connection between unfamiliarity and danger is essential for constructing the national we. As Sara Ahmed points out in “Recognising Strangers”: “[…] Projection of danger onto the figure of the stranger allows the definition of the subject-at-home, and home as inhabitable space, as inherently safe and valuable” (29). The home is valued because it is safe and it is safe because it is familiar. This connection between familiarity and safety, however, is not a logical one. Ahmed refers to how “the projection of danger onto […] the stranger allows violence to be figured as exceptional and extraordinary – as coming from outside the protective walls of the home, family, community or nation” (32). However, danger can come from inside the homeland as well. Duyvendak writes that “themes associated with ‘homeland’ – security, anxiety, terror – are creeping into the private domain of ‘home’” (22). The nation does not only provide safety, but can be a source of danger itself. For example, in the name of homeland security, private homes can be raided to look for suspected terrorists. Or, the data of inhabitants can be monitored in case they are preparing an act that the nation-state deems illegal.
Accordingly, “[…] the discourse of stranger danger involves a refusal to recognize how violence is structured by, and legitimated through, the formation of home and
community as such” (Ahmed 32). Projecting danger onto “strangers,” anything not familiar to the nation, hides that there is danger within the nation as well. The consequence is that
familiarity is associated with safety, even if this is not necessarily the case. Citizens are taught to be suspicious of anything, or anyone, that is not familiar. So, the national we is based on recognition, but also on a trust of what is recognisable and a suspicion of what is
unrecognisable.
The notion of home reappears in the next sentence of the King’s speech, but blending the notion of a personal home (thuis) and the notion of homeland.
Door het geweld zoeken miljoenen mensen een veilig heenkomen. Als vluchteling moeten zij huis en haard achterlaten op zoek naar een tijdelijk thuis.
Millions of people are looking for a safe refuge because of violence. As a refugee, they must leave their house and hearth to look for a temporary home.
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The violence here is the messy, dangerous threat of the previous excerpt. Not only is this danger threatening European borders, it is simultaneously causing refugees to cross those borders. The emphasis on homeliness is telling, as the sentence counts three synonyms: huis (house), haard (hearth/home) and thuis (home). The refugees are fleeing their house and hearth, where they live and what is familiar to them, looking for a new home. Crucially, however, the home they are looking for is described as a temporary home. In Willem
Alexander’s understanding, the refugee’s home differs from the Dutch homeland described in the previous passage. Even if the two homes are in the same place (i.e. the homeland of the Netherlands), for some this home is an essential haven, for others it is a temporary stop.
What differentiates the homeland as haven from a temporary layover? An important aspect of the conception of the homeland as a haven is that a home is a place where one is free to “collectively be, express and realize yourself” (Duyvendak 38). However, in his speech, Willem Alexander emphasises that this freedom is dependent on others as well.
Hoe zelfstandig we ook in het leven staan, we zijn tevens aangewezen op anderen. Ieder mens wil het gevoel hebben opgenomen te zijn in grotere verbanden. Gehoord worden, je thuis en veilig voelen op een plek waar je geaccepteerd wordt zoals je bent, perspectief hebben; het zijn wezenlijke behoeften die wij allemaal met elkaar delen.
It does not matter how independently we lead our lives, we also constantly depend on others. Every human wants to have the feeling of being part of larger
connections/relations. To be heard, to feel home and safe in a place where you are accepted as you are, to have perspective; they are essential/genuine needs we all share.
Willem Alexander emphasizes here the extent to which we are dependent on others because of the need to feel at home, where home is equated with safety and contrasted with danger. He even characterises this dependence on others as a fundamental need that we all share. The we in this sentence is exclusive. For the Dutch nation to be their home, the refugees would need to be accepted as they are, following Willem Alexander’s logic in the above excerpt. In the previous passage, he emphasises that the Dutch homeland is their temporary home. Therefore the Dutch homeland is not a haven for the refugees, where they are heard or accepted as they are. For the refugees to be at home in the Dutch nation, they must become part of the national we. But, as is evident in the speech, the refugees are separate from this we.
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Conclusion
A nation is performed through the individuals that form the national collective. As an analysis of national anthems demonstrates, the individuals that make up the national
collective inhabit a dual position. They represent the present of the nation and connect to the past of the nation through their position as members of the nation. Individuals can be
recognised as “Dutch,” so when they are witnessed, they create the Dutch nation.
A national we is also formed in King Willem Alexander’s Christmas speech. The national address constructs the national we by representing the nation through Willem Alexander. In the speech, he gives a certain perspective of the events of 2014, mediates between these events and the public of his address, the Dutch people. Willem Alexander’s role as a depersonalized national symbol influences his ability to establish the discourse of Dutch-ness and identify who is part of the national we.
An important aspect of constructing the national we is the representation of the nation as a home. Various excerpts of the speech demonstrate how the nation is constructed as a homeland, where certain individuals are made to feel at home. The notion of home is
connected to familiarity and safety, which are contrasted with the unknown and danger. The individuals that form the national we are compelled to suspect what is not familiar to them. The representation of a nation as a home emphasises the distinction between who is part of the national we and who is not.
In the next chapter I look at how individuals must be recognised to become part of the nation-state and what criteria they are subject to. Moreover, I scrutinize if every person is equally subject to those criteria.
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2. National Citizenship: Not For Everyone
In 2011, a group of Austrian MPs petitioned for the lyrics of the Austrian national anthem to be changed because they were “sexist” (Pidd). The petitioners reacted against the first and third verses of the anthem in which Austria was referred to as a “home to great sons” and a “choir of brothers.” According to the group of MPs the lyrics excluded Austrian women. Judith Schwentner, one of the petition’s initiators, is quoted as saying that the change would be “an important symbol for equality in Austria” (Pidd), even if the change would not fix “real” problems like the gender pay gap. The motion was accepted and the lyrics were changed to describe Austria as “home to great sons and daughters.”The above anecdote is an example of a national tradition being excluding because it failed to accurately represent the population of the nation (the national we). Through the appropriate legal channels, a change was suggested and the lyrics were amended to more accurately reflect the national population. In the first chapter, I illustrated how a national we, a representation of the national collective, is constructed. Passages from Willem Alexander’s speech illustrated how individuals are not represented equally in the national we. While implicit criteria make the national we recognisable as “Dutch,” or another nationality, they likewise prevent certain individuals from belonging to the national community.
In this chapter, I want to take a closer look at those criteria and how notions of exclusivity and inclusivity are articulated through access to citizenship. Fortier’s concept of “questioning” the national we plays an important role herein. In the Dutch context, tolerance is a significant term in this discourse: while national citizens are accepted into the nation, non-citizens are tolerated on certain conditions. Politics of non-citizenship have to do with certain forms of hospitality: who is welcomed as a “guest” into the nation and for how long? When is someone no longer welcome in the nation-state? As Mireille Rosello writes, “a politics of hospitality […] involves limits and borders: calculations and the management of finite
resources, finite numbers of people, national borders and state sovereignty” (11). The borders of the nation and the national people, then, are connected to who are welcomed, tolerated and who are unwelcome.
I take a closer look at the criteria for tolerance by first looking at citizenship tests. The tests that determine who succeed at being naturalized reveal the criteria that inform
citizenship. Focusing on Dutch citizenship tests in particular, I analyse how the nation-state influences and ensures the “right” kind of citizenship. In the next part, I look at a case study
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of the VVD municipal election campaign in Rotterdam. The VVD placed different posters around the city emblazoned with different campaign statements. One poster stated that Dutch should be spoken in Rotterdam. I use this case study to analyse how groups are judged differently when it comes to the criteria for citizenship, focusing on the difference between expats and immigrants. Finally, I examine the importance of naming in constituting a group and how names can hid certain judgements for instance based on race. An analysis of the word allochtoon (foreigner) reveals how the difference between official and unofficial meanings of a word can disguise implicit judgements.
Who is a National Citizen?
The nation-state only recognises certain individuals as national citizens. Judith Butler expresses it as follows: “If the state is what “binds,” it is also clearly what can and does unbind. And if the state binds in the name of the nation, conjuring a certain version of the nation forcibly, if not powerfully, then it also unbinds, releases, expels, banishes” (Who Sings 4).This quote illustrates how distinct the difference is between who is recognised as a national citizen and who is not. Being recognised as a citizen has serious consequences: non-citizens are excluded from the nation and do not have the same rights that national non-citizens enjoy. Peter Nyers writes that “historically citizenship has been the identity through which claims to the political being are enacted” (162). Excluding certain individuals from
citizenship means excluding those individuals from political life.
How does recognition work in the context of the nation-state? According to Judith Butler, recognition often comes in the form of naming or interpellation, being ushered into a category that is defined by certain characteristics. She writes, “by being called a name, one is also […] given a certain possibility for social existence, initiated into a temporal life of language that exceeds the prior purposes that animate the call” (Excitable Speech 2). Without a name or recognition, one has no possibility for social existence. Social existence entails, on the one hand, interacting with official institutions and being recognised as part of the national community. On the other hand, not recognising someone as a citizen involves barring access to official institutions and, subsequently, their place in the national community. Non-citizens or undocumented individuals do not exist in the paper bureaucracy of the state: officially they do not work, do not live anywhere or consume anything.
Correspondingly, non-citizens are frequently represented as lacking something: a status, a lack of documents (“undocumented”) or even a lack of humanity (“alien”), which ties
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to their lack of visibility in formal political life (Nyers 166). A non-citizen’s lack of
citizenship is projected onto their functioning in social life. They are seen as absent and non-participants. In Nyers’ terms, “[non-citizens] are rarely perceived as agents, actors,
participants or subjects capable of making claims and demanding rights” (164). As Nyers points out, a lack of citizenship connects to a lack of visibility in political life, as citizenship is seen as the only way to be political. Subsequently, their recognition as non-citizens marks them as non-actors as well.
What tools does the state wield to recognise? One of the most prominent identifiers of citizenship is a passport. In the Dutch context, there are two ways to get a passport: by being born within the nation-state or, in some cases, having one or two parents who are recognised national citizens and by being naturalized (“Nederlander worden”). Being naturalized is a long process, which leads up to a citizenship test. Analysing citizenship tests is productive because they “are a form of singularity – a liminal point between the inclusion or exclusion of an alien person from the national collective” (Löwenheim 147). An analysis of citizenship tests, then, sheds light on how a state thinks citizens should act. A function of the test is to establish the state as well: “Not only does the [citizenship] test assert and reify the authority of the state, it also stresses the values, identities, and truths most important to it. […] The state objectifies these values and truths by coding them as the ‘correct answer’” (Löwenheim 154). The correct answers to the test, then, establish which values and truths are relevant to the nation-state and simultaneously confirm them as the only right answers. Knowing these answers is a prerequisite for citizenship.
In her research about citizenship tests, Ines Michalowski concludes that the test in the Netherlands includes relatively more questions that emphasise “traditions and public moral” than other northern European nations (758). Furthermore, the Dutch test ties “the majority of their lifestyle questions to social (instead of legal) norms” and has how-to-guide-on-etiquette questions that are unique to the Dutch test (759-60). What do these types of questions tell us about how the Dutch state views its citizens? Michalowski writes that these questions reveal an attempt by the state “to manage social interactions beyond legal principles” and to manage “cultural and religious differences” (763-4). By objectifying the answers, the test depicts a homogenous Dutch culture where everyone is in agreement of social mores and codes. So, in order to become a citizen, one must know of and follow these social codes to get access to the rights of a Dutch citizen.
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Subsequently, the Dutch citizenship test can be seen as teaching the not-yet citizen about the social mores and codes of the nation where (s)he is applying for citizenship. The almost citizen is persuaded to participate in these already established social mores, instead of contributing his or her own social mores to the established Dutch ones. Successfully acquiring citizenship, then, involves obeying the requirements of citizenship formulated by the state. Oded Löwenheim describes how the state strengthens its idea of citizenship through these tests:
[The neocommunitarian concept of citizenship] assumes the citizen has responsibilities not merely toward the political entity, but toward the national community as well. Accordingly, citizenship tests premised on this perspective encompass normative commitments and readiness of the citizen-to-be to assume responsibility – beyond mere knowledge of one’s rights. Thus, citizenship tests serve the end of strengthening the moral and emotional bonds between citizens and their country, giving deeper and broader substance to the formal status of citizenship. (146)
Such a concept of citizenship embodied by citizenship tests coerces new citizens to assume responsibility. A responsibility which entails being an active citizen and a contributing member to the nation-state. The logic behind those tests would thus be that addressing an individual’s personal responsibility gives the new citizen a greater attachment to their new nation, as one’s acceptance is the result of one’s own participation. Citizenship, then, is not only “a legal status but […] also involves practices of making citizens – social, political, cultural and symbolic” (Isin 17). In other words, citizenship is not only something you have, but something you do as well.
But there is a contradiction between this kind of symbolic citizenship and participation as embodied by citizenship tests. Engin Isin writes that acts of citizenship do not necessarily always have to obey the law. On the contrary, they may even break it (5). There is, then, a difference between active citizenship, that breaks “with repetition of the same” (2), and participation where individuals follow the established pattern of citizenship as told by the nation-state. In the sense of national citizenship, participating is opposed to acting, which is “a rupture in the given” (Isin 25). As the analysis of citizenship test demonstrates, new
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citizens are asked to participate in already established mores of citizenship, instead of acting, questioning and working with the notions of citizenship.5
So, in the context of acquiring citizenship, participation can mean both (actively) contributing to and not disturbing the status quo. These different meanings of participation apply discordantly to different individuals. To illustrate this, I will look at a case study that demonstrates what it means to participate in Dutch society. When are you contributing and when are you hindering the nation-state?
The Difference between Expats and Immigrants
One of the most significant markers of nationality is speaking the language of the nation. Naturalisation usually involves learning the language of the nation-state. However, not all individuals are equally subject to this language criterion. I want to take a closer look at the relation between speaking a language and participating through a case study.
During the municipal elections, the VVD (People’s Party of Freedom and Democracy) displayed posters around Rotterdam (one of the Netherlands’ major cities) emblazoned with their recognizable bold letters. This recognisable font announced different campaign statements. Some posters had the message: “In Rotterdam spreken we Nederlands” (“We speak Dutch in
Rotterdam”). This particular slogan was regarded as provocative and prompted other local governments to declare that “everyone was welcome” in their town (Kooyman). The
members of the VVD, however, did not regret the poster, as they wanted to “start a discussion”
5 Furthermore, there is a contradiction between how new citizens are constituted in opposition to
non-citizens. Non-citizens are regarded as passive, non-contributors, while new citizens are seen as having actively acquired their citizenship through their behavior. However, acquiring citizenship through a citizenship test is much more passive than it first appears, as it involves not questioning the “rules” of citizenship as formulated by the nation-state. Being a non-citizen, on the other hand, involves acting against what the state has defined as citizenship. To publicly identify as “non-status,” then, is to engage in a political act, according to Peter Nyers (162, 163).
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(ibid.). But what kind of discussion did they want to start? Is the discussion about how important it is to speak Dutch to participate in Dutch society? Or, about who is required to speak Dutch and who is exempt from that demand?
The VVD defended the posters in an opinion piece on their website titled “Nederlands Spreken is Essentieel” (“Speaking Dutch is Essential”). In this article, the ability to express oneself adequately in Dutch is connected to practical matters like filling in forms and
applying for health insurance, rather than speaking Dutch being a quintessential requirement of Dutch citizenship. A closer look, though, reveals the seemingly causal link between
speaking Dutch and participating in Dutch society. This link becomes evident when the Dutch language is connected to more than just practical matters:
Er zijn té veel mensen die aan het werk willen, maar worden belemmerd door taalproblemen. Er zijn té veel ouders die hun kinderen dolgraag willen voorlezen, maar iedere avond het kinderboek moedeloos dichtslaan. Er zijn té veel mensen die in hun isolement thuis blijven zitten, omdat taal een niet te nemen horde is. (“Nederlands Spreken is Essentieel”)
There are too many people who want to get to work (find a job), but are hindered by language problems. There are too many parents who would love to read to their children, but, disheartened, put the book away every night. There are too many people who stay at home in isolation; because language is a barrier they cannot break through.
The article argues that not speaking Dutch hinders the possibility of finding work and leads to isolation. Furthermore, it impedes the individual from reading their children Dutch bedtime stories. In this passage, it becomes clear that speaking Dutch has to do with more than filling in forms.
Speaking Dutch and using Dutch in the private home is connected to using Dutch values. Not speaking Dutch is, then, isolating in the sense that it sets the non-Dutch speaking individual apart from Dutch individuals. So speaking Dutch is not only essential for
participating in society in a practical sense, but in a more symbolic sense as well. Speaking Dutch means knowing, understanding and exhibiting Dutch values (best started at a young age). It is evident in the previous excerpt that economic arguments (not being able to find work) and more ideological arguments are becoming blurred. This blurred distinction
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becomes apparent as certain individuals appear exempt from the link between not speaking Dutch based on certain criteria.
For example, some residents of Rotterdam contradict the requirement to speak Dutch privately. Rotterdam is an international city with a lot of tourists and inhabitants who do not speak Dutch at all. As pointed out in an article on Joop.nl, the VVD had no problems with so-called expats speaking English and not learning Dutch. This discrepancy is illustrated by a campaign video the VVD made for the same municipal elections in Amsterdam. The completely English-spoken video opens with the statement, in the same characteristic bold letters as on the posters: “Why do expats living in Amsterdam vote VVD?” Since the video’s language is English, it suggests that the connection between speaking Dutch and exhibiting Dutch values does not necessarily count for expats. Why are expats let off the hook?
To analyse how the VVD views expats, it is valuable to look at how the party views the opposite individual: an immigrant. The VVD’s primary understanding of immigrants is that they come to the Netherlands looking for a job, sometimes causing trouble and problems when they arrive in the country. In a summary of their point of view on integration, the VVD states:
Maar de ongecontroleerde toestroom van kansarme en laagopgeleide migranten van de laatste decennia leidde tot grote problemen in de wijken, op scholen, op de
arbeidsmarkt en op het vlak van criminaliteit. De aanhoudende toestroom van kansarme migranten moet daarom worden gestopt. (“Integratie”)
But the unchecked influx of underprivileged and low educated migrants in the last decennium has caused big problems in neighbourhoods, schools, in the work force and in crime. Therefore, the continuing influx of underprivileged migrants must be
stopped.
The previous VVD statement emphasises the migrants’ lack of education and their burden on different areas of society. An expat is also a name for a foreign individual that come to another country to work. However, they are not seen as a burden on society even if they are looking for a job in the Netherlands as well. Both immigrants and expats are subject to the speaking-Dutch-is-essential-for-finding-a-job-binary the VVD explains in “Nederlands
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Spreken is Essentieel.” But immigrants are seen as a problem, while expats are seen as an asset.
The difference between an expat and an immigrant, then, appears to do with work and their contribution to the national labour force. Expats have a job; immigrants are looking for a job. But is this distinction really an accurate reflection of the make-up of the national labour force? The VVD has no problems with expats “stealing” jobs or using resources meant for Dutch citizens. Nor are all immigrants are a burden on the system, as the VVD points out on its own website:
De VVD waardeert en erkent mensen die erin slagen op eigen benen hun weg in onze samenleving te vinden en te integreren. En dat zijn er veel.
The VVD values and acknowledges people who succeed in finding their own way in our society and integrating [into Dutch society]. There are lots of them.
The VVD never discloses who “they” are, nor does it explicitly define what integrating is. Similarly, implicit in the rhetoric of the municipal campaign is an inequality in how expats and immigrants are perceived and hence represented. This inequality is based on how flows of capital are represented in national politics. If we were to believe the VVD: expats bring capital with them, while immigrants take resources. On their website, the VVD writes:
Wij zien kansen voor hoogopgeleide kennismigranten om ons land en onze economie te versterken. (“Integratie”)
We see possibilities for highly educated migrants to strengthen our country and our economy.
So, what the campaign reveals is that according to the VVD’s point of view, having capital exempts certain individuals from criteria like speaking Dutch or exhibiting Dutch values. The implicit statement of VVD appears to be that you do not have to follow our Dutch values or speak our language as long as you are bringing money into the country.
However, this representation of tolerance is not as clear-cut as it may appear. What is the assumption based on that expats guarantee capital, while immigrants only take capital? As
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Rosello writes, “the parallels between the immigrant and the guest, and between the state and the host, are culturally significant, and they have consequences that will tend to remain unexplored as long as we do not question their invisibility and hegemonic transparency” (8). In the article on Joop.nl, an individual is quoted as saying “expats are very welcome here [in Rotterdam], but they never stay here long, otherwise they would be Rotterdammers. If people stay here, then they should speak Dutch.” The individual who is quoted connects staying in the Netherlands to speaking Dutch. Not speaking Dutch and remaining in the country
connects to overstaying – either you integrate (become a Rotterdammer) or you are a burden and no longer welcome. In this case, tolerance is based on a politics of hospitality.
Overstaying can be compensated by money (expats), but some individuals appear to be overstaying their welcome almost from the moment they enter the country (immigrants).
To summarise, then, in the 2014 campaign, the VVD utilise the connection between immigrants, not speaking Dutch and not participating in society. In relation to overstaying, this connection between immigrants and not speaking Dutch is represented as problematic. Expats are exempt from speaking Dutch; immigrants are regarded suspiciously and reminded they need to integrate to be tolerated. Furthermore, what is culturally significant in the Netherlands is how overstaying your welcome is typified. Overstaying your welcome is linked to not participating, being isolated from Dutch society and otherwise acting in a way that is not Dutch. But, as Rosello points out, those who are welcome to participate are subject to implicit criteria. Not all individuals are identified equally when it comes to participating and, consequently, to being tolerated.
Unequal Naming
The inequality of naming is exemplified by the recognition and constitution of
undocumented immigrants. In Who Sings the Nation State? Judith Butler describes an event in the early 2000s in Los Angeles. A group of undocumented immigrants took to the streets and sang the American national anthem translated into Spanish, titled nuestro hymno. Butler writes the following of this event:
The assertion [of singing nuestro hymno] not only claims the [American] anthem, and so lays claim to rights of possession, but also to modes of belonging, since who is included in the “we”? For the “we” to sing and to be asserted in Spanish surely does something to our notions of the nation and to our notions of equality. (Who Sings? 59)
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The invisible, undocumented immigrants claim their visibility in this example. This assertion reveals how, when it comes to social visibility, undocumented immigrants are not recognised in the same way as other groups in the eyes of the nation-state. The way this group is created is not equal to the creation of groups who do have access to social existence. The creation of groups excludes certain individuals from the possibility of being recognised as national citizens from the outset. What are the criteria for this exclusion?
Following on Butler’s theory of the inequality of interpellation, a name is necessary for social existence (Excitable Speech 2). This social existence has a beginning, as naming someone ushers them into the temporal life of language. But, names are never created brand-new; they are always connected to names that have come before. Butler defines this as the “historicity” of names, which is
what might be understood as the history which has become internal to a name, has come to constitute the contemporary meaning of a name: the sedimentation of its usages as they have become part of the very name, a sedimentation, a repetition that congeals, that gives the name its force. (Excitable Speech 36)
Names like expats and immigrants are not stand-alone utterances, but become part of a complex discourse on who is welcomed, who is suspicious, who is tolerated and who belongs. This “sedimentation” of names may be hidden in the creation of new names, but is revealed by an analysis of the implicit criteria sticking to certain names (and not to others).
As the analysis in the beginning of this chapter demonstrated, it is hard to portray non-status individuals in a way that avoids describing them as lacking something. Their name designates them as non-participants. To illustrate further the implications of grouping certain individuals into categories and how the names of these groups are connected to the names surrounding it, I would like to look at the relation between autochtoon and allochtoon.
According to Philomena Essed and Sandra Trienekens, the official and unofficial meaning of the word allochtoon differ. They write:
The formal definition of allochtoon as used by the Dutch government includes
residents born elsewhere, as well as their children, even when born in the Netherlands and even when one parent was born in the Netherlands as well. Note that the offspring of a white Dutch diplomat born and (partly) raised in, say, Brazil, would not be called
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‘allochtoon’, but considered as Dutch as Gouda cheese. In practice, ‘allochtoon’ captures the mix of racial thinking and cultural hierarchies [in the Netherlands]. (57)
The above quote illustrates how the notion of autochtoon is inherently connected to Dutch-ness, while allochtoon, by association, is never quite Dutch. The difference between the official and unofficial meanings of the word allochtoon has consequences for those given this label. Essed and Trienekens write that the “ramifications are that allochtonen are informally considered and treated as second-class citizens, never quite Dutch, never quite the norm, always considered as aspiring, as a problem, lagging behind” (58). Note also the meaning that sticks to allochtoon: not only are they not quite Dutch, they are “lagging behind” as well and, consequently, a problem.
The word allochtoon focuses on the characteristics of Dutch-ness. As Essed and Trienekens write, the official meaning of the word allochtoon is based on the connection of an individual to the country through his or her parents. This definition appears to be an objective criterion: Dutch-ness is based on who was born in the Netherlands or whose parents were born here. However, the unofficial meaning of allochtoon disputes the notion that this term is an objective category. As Essed and Trienekens point out, an individual not born in the Netherlands, but with two Dutch parents, would not be called an allochtoon but be “as Dutch as Gouda cheese” (57). On the other hand, an individual who is born in the Netherlands, but with one or both parents from Morocco or Turkey, will usually be called an allochtoon. While never explicitly stated, distinction on the basis of race plays a meaningful role in discerning who is an allochtoon.
In the Netherlands, cultural racism is more prevalent than biological racism (Essed and Trienekens 55). Cultural racism equates Dutch-ness and white-ness with apparent Western values like Christianity. This is why, when making the distinction between an autochtoon and allochtoon, the argument is frequently based on religion (he is a Muslim) or “cultural
difference” rather than skin colour or race (Essed and Trienekens 56). Duyvendak writes that the equation between Muslim and not Dutch “renders Muslim citizens “knowable” and composes them as objects of critique. The central tropes of this discourse – individualism versus the lack thereof; “tolerance” versus “fundamentalism” – frame an imagined modern self against an imagined traditional (Muslim) other” (242). The fundamentalist Muslim is utilised as a contrast to the modern, tolerant Dutch citizen.
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This tolerant Dutch citizen, however, is not equally tolerant of every individual. Distinguishing who are Dutch and not-Dutch on the basis of religion hides the distinction based on race. “[References] to race are more implicit and often intertwined with notions of culture and ethnicity” (Essed and Trienekens 55). For example, allusions to race and
intolerance are hidden by politics illustrating how tolerant Dutch society is of racial others. Think of political rhetoric that claims to be proud of “our” diversity. For example, the VVD writes on their website:
De VVD staat voor een samenleving waarin iedereen meedoet (ongeacht geloof, ras of achtergrond). De VVD sluit niemand uit. (“Integratie”)
The VVD stands for a society where everyone participates (regardless of religion, race or background). The VVD excludes no one.
According to Fortier, politics founded on tolerating everyone “separate ethnic ‘others’ into subjects who must be hailed as figures of the tolerant, multiracial [society]” (31). Tolerating “ethnic others,” then, is employed as a red flag to distract from the intolerance in other areas of society. For example when immigrants and expats are divided based on their skin colour.
These token others have to be stripped of their race as well. “Deracination makes them available to adopt ‘the nation’ and available for adoption by ‘the nation’” (Fortier 33). To be accepted into the national we, race has to be stripped of its negative connotations. For example, the connection made through naming between other-ness and danger, passivity or other negative stereotypes. A different skin colour is utilised to signify other-ness in political rhetoric and to illustrate the tolerance of the nation-state. In other situations, a non-white skin colour becomes an obstacle to being recognised as a Dutch citizen. “For some Dutch
politicians, it may simply be unimaginable that (Muslim) immigrants can feel at home in the Netherlands” (Duyvendak 94). The situation is made all the more unimaginable as the Muslim is equated with fundamentalism, while the Netherlands is equated with tolerance and
moderation.
A consequence of the fundamental importance of tolerance in Dutch politics is that it is difficult to openly discuss when Dutch values inhibit equal toleration of every individual, as demonstrated in the analysis of the difference between allochtoon and autochtoon. Openly discussing the racial connotations of allochtoon and how discrimination on the basis of race is
