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The anti-racist who shames the Dutch Anton De Kom is finally getting his due

He will not be silenced.


January 27, 2022   5 mins

When we speak about black history, we tend to conjure up a familiar gallery of intellectuals and freedom fighters. Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Malcolm X, CLR James, Frantz Fanon: the legacies of these leaders are celebrated worldwide. Less well known, in the English-speaking world at least, is Anton De Kom; but he is no less deserving of a place in history.

De Kom is to Suriname what Mandela is to South Africa: a heroic patriot, an advocate of the oppressed, and a symbol of resistance against colonialism. His magnum opus, We Slaves of Suriname — originally written and published in 1934 — was the first history of slavery and Dutch colonialism in Suriname written by a Surinamese man. It was composed while he was exiled to the Netherlands and under surveillance for anti-colonial protests. After its publication, he and it were censored and neglected for years by the Dutch, let alone the West in general.

But then came the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, and a renewed interest in examining the racial injustices of the past. There has since been a surge of interest in De Kom. Last February, the Dutch government pledged to honour him “with a generous gesture”. He became the first Surinamer to be included in the canon of Dutch history, alongside Vincent van Gogh and Anne Frank. And this month, the first ever English translation of We Slaves of Suriname will be published, 88 years after its completion.

The book is, in part, an ode to De Kom’s homeland: a beautiful, tropical wonderland, teeming with life. But it also tells the history of Suriname, from the beginning of European settlement — which very quickly led to the catastrophic demise of the nation’s aboriginal peoples — to when the Dutch fully colonised it in 1667, turning it into a plantation colony. From this point onwards, thousands of enslaved Africans were imported, to work producing sugar and coffee to export back to the mother country.

For De Kom, slavery was personal. He repeatedly refers to the enslaved as “our fathers and our mothers”, and deftly weaves his own autobiography into the history of Suriname. His father was born a slave, and later became a farmer. He was part of the generation of slaves emancipated into “free” citizenship under Dutch rule, yet haunted by memories still fresh in their minds, and stories passed down by their elders.

Early in the book, De Kom invites “the white reader”, who he believes will be sceptical of what he writes, to contemplate a sailing ship. For De Kom, the image is not one of freedom; it represents instead the torture of his ancestors:

“But we do wish to warn you. From your lofty seat, do not venture down the futtouck shroud … Up here you can smell the invigorating smell of tar and the salt sea wind … Down there it already reeks a mile leeward of the sweat and excrement of a thousand slaves packed into a hold.

Up here you can hear the cries of the albatross, the song of the sailors, and the crash of the wave … Down there you can hear the cries of the slaves, the wails of the women in labour, and the crack of the whip coming down on the backs of blacks.”

When the history of European colonialism is interrogated, the focus tends to be on the British and French (and, to a lesser extent, Spanish) empires. The role of the Netherlands is rarely noted, though it had one of Europe’s oldest empires, including colonies in Suriname, Java and Southern Africa. And, as Pepijn Brandon has argued, the Netherlands was also a key player in the Atlantic slave trade in the 17th and 18th centuries. Dutch planters had a reputation for being especially cruel and sadistic in their treatment of slaves.

The typical colonial narrative argues for the “civilising” influence of the imperial power. De Kom counters this with brutal expositions of what Dutch rule really meant for the Surinamese, documenting gruesome accounts of the torture frequently dished out to those seen as slacking or insubordinate. A common technique was the notorious “Spanish billy goat”, where the slave would be mercilessly flogged while his two hands were tied together, his knees pulled up through the arms with a stick inserted between them and planted onto the ground. The frequent sexual abuse of black women by their masters, long a taboo subject, is also given in-depth treatment by De Kom.

Despite all this, De Kom is uneasily ambivalent towards the end of slavery in Suriname. In 1863, 100,000 or so slaves became free citizens — in name, but not in essence. “The physical instruments of torture,” De Kom lamented, “have largely been replaced by mental torments, poverty and want.” While former slave-owners were compensated for the loss of their “property”, former slaves received no reparations. They weren’t given any land, training, education or credit — unlike European settlers, who had received all these things upon arrival, to help them make a living.

Instead, former slaves had little choice but to enter coolie contracts under “state supervision” for ten years before they could even be officially “free”. It was basically another form of slavery; in other words, the abolition of slavery was managed in the interests of plantation owners, rather than the individuals they’d exploited. It was a sham.

Likewise, Suriname’s “autonomy” was also a sham. The nation was still seen as inseparable from the Dutch kingdom. De Kom’s raison d’etre for writing We Slaves of Suriname was to unshackle his compatriots from their “inherited sense of inferiority and to rouse the self-respect of the Surinamese people” so that they could extricate themselves from the Dutch yoke.

Nevertheless, despite his fervent indictments of the evils of slavery and Dutch colonialism, De Kom was unlike some of his contemporaries, in that he did not subscribe to the “back to Africa” agenda. The decolonisation struggle he envisioned was not meant to be a violent one, or a regression into narrow tribalism: “What I was after was organisation, not a bloodbath.” He firmly believed that the mosaic society of Suriname — composed of blacks, Indians and Javanese — could unite in the spirit of solidarity to liberate their nation, and achieve a dignified human existence for all citizens.

On the last page of his book, De Kom dreamt of the day he would return to a free Suriname:

“Sranang my fatherland.
I hope to see you again once.
On the day when all misery shall be erased from you.”

The lines are particularly poignant if you know that, when he wrote them, he would never see his treasured homeland again. Shortly after the German invasion of Holland in 1940, De Kom joined the Dutch resistance and wrote for the censored De Vonk, a paper affiliated with the Dutch Communist party, which mainly documented the abusive activities of fascist gangs in the streets of The Hague (in particular those against Jews). On the 7th August 1944, he was arrested by Nazi forces and sentenced to forced labour at Neuengamme concentration camp, where he died of tuberculosis and was buried in a mass grave. Ever since, his legacy has risked fading into history.

His work is poignant, too, because Suriname has suffered since then. National independence, like the abolition of slavery, has not been a glowing success. Since 1975, when Dutch rule finally came to an end, Suriname has endured civil war, dictatorships, tribalism and corruption — similar to that which plagues a lot of post-colonial nations. The nation is still haunted by the abuses of empire.

Anton De Kom’s work doesn’t tell an uplifting story, then; but it is a common story, of how our modern world came to be. Black labour, in the form of chattel slavery, played a significant role in creating the wealth of the West. “This is the price we pay for the sugar you eat,” cries out the limbless and nameless Negro slave (owned by a cruel and unscrupulous Dutch merchant) in Voltaire’s Candide. Human beings turned into commodities: this is our history whether we are comfortable with it or not. And De Kom, despite all the efforts to silence him, will not let us forget it.


Ralph Leonard is a British-Nigerian writer on international politics, religion, culture and humanism.

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hayden eastwood
hayden eastwood
2 years ago

I am pleased to hear about a historical figure that I wasn’t previously aware of. However, there are telltale signs of contemporary bias in this piece that sour it slightly.
First, the picture of the gentleman in question shows someone who is dressed like any Westerner of his era. This likely suggests that, much as he may criticise the West, he also thinks like a Westerner in many respects, particularly in the sphere of human rights. The irony of this is that his whole conception of morality, and the language he uses around it, is itself entirely Western.
Genghis Khan didn’t have any woke policies to empower conquered tribes, and neither did Shaka Zulu. The Japanese when they sacked Nanjing didn’t stop to consider the human rights of the Chinese. Slavery, in short, was practiced across the entire globe, tribes conquered and killed and, only in the last 200 years and, only in the West, was this seen as abhorrent.
When I see people hailed for criticising human rights abuses of the past, it frustrates me when they fail to consider the context and irony of the fact that it is only by embracing Western ideals, that one can criticise the West to begin with.
Second: “Suriname has endured civil war, dictatorships, tribalism and corruption — similar to that which plagues a lot of post-colonial nations.”
The implication in this statement is that it is colonialism that has caused corruption, tribalism and post-colonial failure. This betrays the “original sin” bias in the author, in my view, likely borne of the “Noble Savage” fetishisation of foreign peoples and their “pure” ways.
While I agree that colonialism brings with it new problems, my observation, living in a postcolonial state, is that colonialism has not worked principally because it was not effective at getting the colonised to think like colonists.
The problem, then, is not that colonialism was too effective, but that it wasn’t effective enough. When colonists pulled out, the systems of governance began to fall apart almost immediately because checks and balances only work to police outliers. But when everyone is an outlier, there is suddenly a different system, based on the average of the behaviour of those outliers.
Post colonial societies, in the absence of colonial structures, merely revert to those which were previously there. Tribal and kinship ties then once more predominate, making corruption of governance structures a social obligation rather than a sin. This situation is not caused by colonialism, but, rather, by its absence.

That said I think it’s important to be reminded of how cruel humans can be to each other, particularly when they use the lens of “the other”.

Last edited 2 years ago by hayden eastwood
Warren T
Warren T
2 years ago

Agreed. The bible is full of stories of conquest and slavery. It has been around as long as humans have. We are a sinful lot, all of us throughout history, not just Western Europeans. And Africans do not have a monopoly on being slaves.

Ian Stewart
Ian Stewart
2 years ago

Second: “Suriname has endured civil war, dictatorships, tribalism and corruption — similar to that which plagues a lot of post-colonial nations.”
I was struck by this too – instead of objectively reporting an interesting story, the writer shows they just can’t resist blaming the coloniser. The indigenous were just so wonderful to each other prior to colonisation. What did the Romans do for us indeed?

Henry Ganteaume
Henry Ganteaume
2 years ago

I am totally in agreement with this analysis. The concluding paragraphs describe with unerring accuracy the trajectory of the post-colonial Caribbean country of which I, and eight generations of paternal antecedents, am a resident and national. This does not diminish the outstanding achievements of individual fellow citizens of every hue but rather laments the collective decay of a highly effective colonial system.
Bravo, Mr Eastwood. Well said, sir.

Gayle Rosenthal
Gayle Rosenthal
2 years ago

I agree with this comment wholeheartedly. To sum it up – I don’t think Anton De Kom was an “anti-racist”. He would not have countenanced reverse discrimination in order to overcome the ill-effects of slavery. Further, he chose the West, and Holland, over going back to Africa. So much for the “shame” of the Dutch. That pretty much says it all.

Chris Wheatley
Chris Wheatley
2 years ago

All of these forgotten contributions to history are important. In theory, the more books, articles and papers, the better is the understanding we have of the modern world.
BUT that is not a reason to make modern generations live with a guilt complex, to try to ruin their lives because of the past. I have just read an interesting book by John Newsinger, who earns his living talking about our ‘evil’ past. To paraphrase Charles Hedges on this comments section, writing about something in the past is a lot easier than managing something in the present. No Guilt please.

R Wright
R Wright
2 years ago

“The nation is still haunted by the abuses of empire.” It’s been fifty years. Move on.

SULPICIA LEPIDINA
SULPICIA LEPIDINA
2 years ago
Reply to  R Wright

Judged by the current state of affairs it should be : “Come back Empire, all is forgiven”.

Ian Stewart
Ian Stewart
2 years ago

I’ve often wondered if former empire countries would, if it was politically acceptable, contract out the governance of their country to the U.K. I intensely dislike the civil service, but they weren’t that bad at running countries compared to those before them (pre-colonial – so not our fault) and after them.

Frederick B
Frederick B
2 years ago
Reply to  Ian Stewart

One example of a country which did something like that is Newfoundland. Granted independence by Britain in the twenties it voluntarily reverted to rule by the Colonial Office ten years later, before joining Canada in 1949. That rule was long remembered as the best government Newfoundland ever enjoyed.
It helped, of course, that the Newfoundlanders were British and happy to be part of the empire.

Andrea X
Andrea X
2 years ago

Very interesting, thanks. I knew absolutely nothing about any of it.

Dominic A
Dominic A
2 years ago

There is a paradox which, as a psychologist, I see often. On the one hand, the trap of ‘no past’, wherein your problems, negative predicament persists because its historic roots are not acknowledged or understood. If you understand why, how your angst/oppression, has come to be, there can be liberation; possibilities for growth open up. This is mainly a task for the individual (or clan) – although it is very helpful if others, and those outside the clan are supportive. In the main, individuals and groups do not thrive because others let them, others give; they thrive due to their own choices (which of course may include seeking help, expressing yourself).
On the other hand, there is the trap of the ‘tragic past’ – ‘I am suffering because of what was done to me. I am a special victim (or the cloying upgrade, ‘a survivor’); my ills are not similar to those of humanity in general: I am other. As things in the past, and other people were the cause (which may be quite true)…..so the past, and other people, must be changed (uh-oh!). They must do something to make good (apologise, acknowledge, etc), and history needs to be re-written.
Good news: the tragic past trap, at least in my clinical experience, is surprisingly, reassuringly rare, people are usually highly aware of it- ‘I don’t want to blame my parents doc, I know the answers are up to me’.

SULPICIA LEPIDINA
SULPICIA LEPIDINA
2 years ago

Let us not also forget that it was Great Britain that ‘restored’ the Dutch East Indies* to their former colonial masters in 1945.
To do so we employed Japanese troops**who had only just recently surrendered themselves.
On restoration the Dutch immediately initiated a bitter conflict against the Nationalists, that cost something like 8,000 ‘Dutch’ & 100,000 Nationalist lives, but ended in humiliating defeat in 1948.

(*Now Indonesia.)
(** Who were absolutely first class, it must be said.)

Last edited 2 years ago by SULPICIA LEPIDINA
Charles Hedges
Charles Hedges
2 years ago

Britain had just fought the most Brutal campaign in the World, Burma. We were responsible for keeping law and order in Burma, Malaya, Indonesia and PNG plus islands. We had vast numbers of POW who had survived Japanese camps, many who died after release. The death of Malays on the Burma railway was about 100,000. There was starvation and disease throughout the lands conquered by Japan. We tried to stop the conflict in Vietnam and sent troops there and did almost defeat the Vietmin. The massacres between Hindus/Sikhs and Muslims in India were increasing. We were bankrupt by 1942. We had to cut the bread ration to feed Germans. Greece was starving and in a civil war. Vast areas of British cities had been bombed and people were homeless.
The problem with most modern writers is that they have never had to make life or death decisions, especially where the numbers are in the 10s and 100s of thousands and there are not the resources. Nobody likes deciding who lives and dies but some people have the leadership and accept the burden of responsibility.
Indonesia attacked Malaysia in the 1960s, tried to force Borneo to join and threatened Singapore.

Chris Wheatley
Chris Wheatley
2 years ago
Reply to  Charles Hedges

Your response says everything. ALL writers, including amateurs like contributors to chat sites, can have an opinion. Managing and organising something is completely different.

SULPICIA LEPIDINA
SULPICIA LEPIDINA
2 years ago
Reply to  Charles Hedges

I couldn’t agree more.

However I thought that some readers may be interested to hear of this little known British ‘adventure’, and in particular of the admiration voiced by British Officers for the extraordinary courage and fighting quality of the Japanese troops under their command.

As they had only recently been involved on opposite sides in what you correctly describe as “ the most brutal campaign in the World, Burma”, it was a most remarkable turn of events, was it not?

Ian Stewart
Ian Stewart
2 years ago

But in providing that information, which is interesting, you play the same anti-colonial blame game (empires bad, indigenous good) that the author of the article does, and this has helpfully been clarified by Charles.

SULPICIA LEPIDINA
SULPICIA LEPIDINA
2 years ago
Reply to  Ian Stewart

“Never since the heroic days of Greece has the world had such a sweet, just, boyish master. It will be a black day for the human race when scientific blackguards, conspirators, churls, and fanatics manage to supplant him.”

That was the opinion of the renowned Spanish philosopher George Santayana* on the British Empire. Could anyone have put it better?

(*1863-1952.)

Ian Stewart
Ian Stewart
2 years ago

He wasn’t being sarcastic was he?

SULPICIA LEPIDINA
SULPICIA LEPIDINA
2 years ago
Reply to  Ian Stewart

No, he wrote that in 1912 when he was ‘wasting his time’ teaching at Harvard.

Doug Pingel
Doug Pingel
2 years ago
Reply to  Charles Hedges

Borneo was already part of Indonesia. Sarawak and British North Borneo (now Sabah) were under constant threat and often attack/infiltration. I remember it well and can still point to a place on my left buttock where remains the last of a bullet/shrapnel track whose mate destroyed my manpack radio. One of the reasons we didn’t do very well was that (as Naval Infantrymen (not Marines)) we were still being sent against AK47s with Lee-Enfields.

Gayle Rosenthal
Gayle Rosenthal
2 years ago

Very interesting article and I’m happy to know about De Kom and Suriname. But was he an “anti-racist” ? It doesn’t seem so. He doesn’t seem to countenance discrimination against whites in order to even the score. But if the non-violence he represents can positively influence BLM, that’s a good thing.
No amount of money in reparations can repair a sense of self-worth. Plenty of white people suffer from this problem too. Plenty of blacks are over it and have moved on, and they are surely better off for it.
As for present day Suriname, we never hear anything about it. I wonder if they are crossing the border like Hondurans and Haitians ? Makes me want to visit.

Ian Stewart
Ian Stewart
2 years ago

Its great to hear about a historical character that’s not well known. It’s nicely supportive of the recent trend to bring those from the ‘fashionable’ ethnic groups to wider attention.
But it’s a pity we are simultaneously seeing the cancelling of historic individuals because they aren’t in tune with current views or members of fashionable ethnic groups.
Jews are a very unfashionable ethnic group, which is presumably why the Academy of Motion Picture Museum completely ignored the fundamental contributions of Jews to establishing and growing the American film industry (link below) in favour of minor contributions by individuals from the fashionable groups. History being rewritten by the woke victors?
https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-news/academy-museum-motion-pictures-jewish-representation-1283537/