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Murder in Amsterdam: Liberal Europe, Islam, and the Limits of Tolerance
A revelatory look at what happens when political Islam collides with the secular West
Ian Buruma's Murder in Amsterdam is a masterpiece of investigative journalism, a book with the intimacy and narrative control of a crime novel and the analytical brilliance for which Buruma is renowned. On a cold November day in Amsterdam in 2004, the celebrated and controversial Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh was shot and killed by an Islamic extremist for making a movie that "insulted the prophet Mohammed." The murder sent shock waves across Europe and around the world. Shortly thereafter, Ian Buruma returned to his native land to investigate the event and its larger meaning as part of the great dilemma of our time.
Ian Buruma's Murder in Amsterdam is a masterpiece of investigative journalism, a book with the intimacy and narrative control of a crime novel and the analytical brilliance for which Buruma is renowned. On a cold November day in Amsterdam in 2004, the celebrated and controversial Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh was shot and killed by an Islamic extremist for making a movie that "insulted the prophet Mohammed." The murder sent shock waves across Europe and around the world. Shortly thereafter, Ian Buruma returned to his native land to investigate the event and its larger meaning as part of the great dilemma of our time.
288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
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1537 people want to read
About the author
Ian Buruma
89 books251 followersIan Buruma is a British-Dutch writer and academic, much of whose work focuses on the culture of Asia, particularly that of 20th-century Japan, where he lived and worked for many years.
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July 5, 2020
I recently finished Infidel but I still felt like I wanted to learn more about Dutch tolerance, perhaps from a different angle. Written by Ian Buruma, a Dutchman who spent several years in the UK, this book was perfect for that. It analyses the murder of Theo Van Gogh through various lenses. Peppered with various Dutch interviews, this book provides a lively and well written conversation about the Dutch values of free speech and multiculturalism in the face of immigration.
Up until a few days ago, I had never heard of Theo Van Gogh, let alone known he was murdered by an immigrant after creating an anti-Islam film. Right now, I feel very invested in Dutch politics of 2004, does anyone want to talk about Pim Fortuyn?
This book is interesting because it really doesn't show much of an opinion. It's more like a run through of various thoughts and processes in the Dutch society before and after Van Gogh's murder.
So what are some of the ideas discussed in this book?
Belief in the Enlightenment is as absolute as belief in Koran.
I read this sentence and I felt like an actual light bulb appeared above my head. We think the conversation is about our values vs theirs but it's also simply about relativism vs absolutism. Time and time again, can the Dutch force any kind of value on anyone, even if those values are freedom and equality?
And it's interesting to think about this because there's that knee-jerk reaction that Enlightenment values are better for everyone while sexism is not. But perhaps the role of a country isn't to enforce values and therefore, the Dutch are wronging these immigrants by attempting to force them to abandon their values? And on the other side, by immigrating, a person makes a choice to live in that country. Surely they also have a responsibility to try to assimilate?
Islam is a European religion.
I adore this idea because I think it's remarkably true. Muslims are undeniably a part of Europe. The question is, what happens now?
As I see it, once we accept Islam as a European religion, we might be opening the door for Muslims to think critically about their religion as well. They can't do that if they feel under attack by the government but through acceptance, perhaps it's possible to find a middle ground where Muslims can practice and European values don't feel threatened.
The Dutch are haunted by Anne Frank.
I was surprised by this but Anne Frank shows up again and again in this book and in various contexts. Buruma claims the Holocaust is a moral yardstick for contemporary Netherlands, as a symbol, a lost chance and a ghost at the same time, haunting political discussions.
It's interesting because as Jew, I don't think much about the Netherlands in WW2. It doesn't stand out as a country that did much to help the Jews, like Denmark or as a country that failed their Jews, like Poland (and still continues to fail them, like seriously Poland, antisemitism is so 1944, get with the times).
And yet, the Dutch seem to be scarred by this failure, both the failed resistance and the failed protection of the Jews. It was thought that the Jews were assimilated but when it came to it, it turns out that they weren't because no one did enough to stop their deportation and eventual murder. It's fascinating to realize that just as after the Holocaust the Jews were asking, "How can we make sure this never happens again?", the Dutch were also asking the same thing.
Now, I don't like it when leftist Europeans compare Islamophobia to antisemitism because Judaism literally discourages conversions. Islam, however, does have a messianic element to it. That's not a bad thing, Christianity also has this element. It just means that a Jew will never ever attempt to tell a non-Jew to eat kosher but a Muslim might encourage others to eat halal. That does impact the politics of this matter.
There is something very valid about fearing to lose your culture due to an influx of immigration but I also found myself thinking about Cities and Immigration: Political and Moral Dilemmas in the New Era of Migration which argues for "milkshake" cities, where each immigrant adds something of their own. And there's so much that Muslim immigrants can add in that wouldn't harm European values (for example, the Middle Eastern salad culture or Somali poetry).
And there's something so telling and so ridiculously fascinating about the Provo movement using the word "Jew" as an insult (and also, in general, I've never heard about the Provo movement so this was very neat). Dutch people who use the word Jew as an insult do it to reach maximum edginess, to break the socially acceptable barrier. It's fascinating because Ayaan Hirsi Ali also mentions the word "Jew" being used as an insult in Saudi Arabia and yet, the context is so different but also, it seems both of those groups do not have much contact with actual Jews. It feels like the symbolism is what matters, the context of the word more than the content.
The welfare state isn't built for a large number of foriegn immigrants.
This is a fascinating point because it strikes me that a lot of solid welfare states are homogeneous in the sense they share values. There's a consensus on what a good life means and therefore, it makes sense that when someone loses their job/ their home/ their heath, the government will help them until they get back on their feet. It's assumed that people want to get back on their feet.
Immigrants pose a problem when their value of success is different. Muhammad Bouyeri didn't see success as integration into Dutch society. Rather, Hirsi Ali describes that many Somali immigrants don't see a problem with living off welfare like perhaps some Dutch people do. One of my classes mentioned the element of shame when getting help from the country and I wonder how much of an impact that still has in welfare countries. Sure, everyone equally and shamelessly gets certain help (like subsidized university) but it still comes across from this book that specific kinds of help are a cause for shame (like living off welfare without ever trying to get a job).
Yet, in the same breath, I think about the amount of expat communities I met while traveling. It doesn't seem very hard to find an English speaking job in the Netherlands, move there, and create a circle of friends who are all international. And that would be fine because we'd all embrace the Western culture. The mere existence of the word expat vs immigrant already portrays this cultural gap.
Who's responsible?
By letting immigrants in, a country has to be aware that those immigrants might not fit in with the rest of the country. And it comes down to the question- do the immigrants want to fit it? Can they? How do we treat those who are different? And who's ultimately responsible for this?
When a horrible person climbs out of our society, we say society failed them, with bad mental health care, with bad education, with not enough support. And yet, when an immigrant does something similar, we blame their entire culture when really, once a country decides to take in immigrants, isn't that country also responsible for their assimilation?
When satellite cities exist, when the next generation grows up feeling inferior and missing something they never really had, romanticizing a culture that they don't necessarily know intimately, is the state not responsible?
And where exactly do we draw the line? It's obvious that someone who immigrated would care about what's going on in their country and we can't expect someone who immigrated to lose everything that they are but maybe the problem begins when they rebel against the values of their new countries?
Intuitively, I'd assume that by being a more accepting society, we discourage immigrants from attempting to assimilate. If there's a social pressure to speak Dutch, more immigrants will learn Dutch. We want the immigrants to live the best life they can in the country and assume that by learning the language and the culture, we give that chance.
I'm reminded of Linda Sarsour and Nikki Haley's books which prove that it doesn't matter what your country of origin is, your kids are going to be able to fit in the country if your parents work to assimilate. It would be fascinating to compare between the US and the EU in terms of immigration and see how assimilation works, when we consider that some EU countries put a lot of effort in the assimilation while the US doesn't seem to do that.
Conclusion
This conversation still seems relevant. This was published in 2006 but it holds up. I think it's fair to say the wave of immigrants of 2015 has made this topic even more prominent.
I feel that I can easily recommend this book to anyone who would like to learn more about the Netherlands, especially in regards to tolerance and immigration. It's so well written and very interesting. Of course, I'm positive that Dutch people will have much to say about this book and it's obviously going to make much more sense than this very long rambling review.
What I'm Taking With Me
- If I don't do something in my life that has to do with immigration, I'll be disappointed.
- Man, I wish my Identitypolitics in Europe class was longer, like we only had one class about immigration and damn, it was not enough.
- Who knew the Dutch keep talking about Spinoza? It's great because Spinoza isn't really part of the Jewish philosophy canon so I'm just happy someone adopted him into their philosophical history.
-As an Israeli reading this book, there is a certain sense of smugness- it's terrible but it's there. So many Europeans love to look down on Israeli policies about terror and in some ways, once Europe started to experience terrorism and much of the multicultural love disappeared, it's easy to feel a sense of condescension, like huh, it's easy to have the high moral ground when you never face the dilemmas.
Also, I handed in the exam in Identitypolitics in Europe today so here's hoping I wrote stuff that makes sense. Ahhhh.
---------
I have an exam later today in Identity Politics in Europe. Instead of going over my notes, I read this book. I'd like to think this will be helpful later like hey, I can now talk about Dutch identity in the face of immigration?
Review to come! It's time to go ponder about European identity and what it means to different people.
Up until a few days ago, I had never heard of Theo Van Gogh, let alone known he was murdered by an immigrant after creating an anti-Islam film. Right now, I feel very invested in Dutch politics of 2004, does anyone want to talk about Pim Fortuyn?
This book is interesting because it really doesn't show much of an opinion. It's more like a run through of various thoughts and processes in the Dutch society before and after Van Gogh's murder.
So what are some of the ideas discussed in this book?
Belief in the Enlightenment is as absolute as belief in Koran.
I read this sentence and I felt like an actual light bulb appeared above my head. We think the conversation is about our values vs theirs but it's also simply about relativism vs absolutism. Time and time again, can the Dutch force any kind of value on anyone, even if those values are freedom and equality?
And it's interesting to think about this because there's that knee-jerk reaction that Enlightenment values are better for everyone while sexism is not. But perhaps the role of a country isn't to enforce values and therefore, the Dutch are wronging these immigrants by attempting to force them to abandon their values? And on the other side, by immigrating, a person makes a choice to live in that country. Surely they also have a responsibility to try to assimilate?
Islam is a European religion.
I adore this idea because I think it's remarkably true. Muslims are undeniably a part of Europe. The question is, what happens now?
As I see it, once we accept Islam as a European religion, we might be opening the door for Muslims to think critically about their religion as well. They can't do that if they feel under attack by the government but through acceptance, perhaps it's possible to find a middle ground where Muslims can practice and European values don't feel threatened.
The Dutch are haunted by Anne Frank.
I was surprised by this but Anne Frank shows up again and again in this book and in various contexts. Buruma claims the Holocaust is a moral yardstick for contemporary Netherlands, as a symbol, a lost chance and a ghost at the same time, haunting political discussions.
It's interesting because as Jew, I don't think much about the Netherlands in WW2. It doesn't stand out as a country that did much to help the Jews, like Denmark or as a country that failed their Jews, like Poland (and still continues to fail them, like seriously Poland, antisemitism is so 1944, get with the times).
And yet, the Dutch seem to be scarred by this failure, both the failed resistance and the failed protection of the Jews. It was thought that the Jews were assimilated but when it came to it, it turns out that they weren't because no one did enough to stop their deportation and eventual murder. It's fascinating to realize that just as after the Holocaust the Jews were asking, "How can we make sure this never happens again?", the Dutch were also asking the same thing.
Now, I don't like it when leftist Europeans compare Islamophobia to antisemitism because Judaism literally discourages conversions. Islam, however, does have a messianic element to it. That's not a bad thing, Christianity also has this element. It just means that a Jew will never ever attempt to tell a non-Jew to eat kosher but a Muslim might encourage others to eat halal. That does impact the politics of this matter.
There is something very valid about fearing to lose your culture due to an influx of immigration but I also found myself thinking about Cities and Immigration: Political and Moral Dilemmas in the New Era of Migration which argues for "milkshake" cities, where each immigrant adds something of their own. And there's so much that Muslim immigrants can add in that wouldn't harm European values (for example, the Middle Eastern salad culture or Somali poetry).
And there's something so telling and so ridiculously fascinating about the Provo movement using the word "Jew" as an insult (and also, in general, I've never heard about the Provo movement so this was very neat). Dutch people who use the word Jew as an insult do it to reach maximum edginess, to break the socially acceptable barrier. It's fascinating because Ayaan Hirsi Ali also mentions the word "Jew" being used as an insult in Saudi Arabia and yet, the context is so different but also, it seems both of those groups do not have much contact with actual Jews. It feels like the symbolism is what matters, the context of the word more than the content.
The welfare state isn't built for a large number of foriegn immigrants.
This is a fascinating point because it strikes me that a lot of solid welfare states are homogeneous in the sense they share values. There's a consensus on what a good life means and therefore, it makes sense that when someone loses their job/ their home/ their heath, the government will help them until they get back on their feet. It's assumed that people want to get back on their feet.
Immigrants pose a problem when their value of success is different. Muhammad Bouyeri didn't see success as integration into Dutch society. Rather, Hirsi Ali describes that many Somali immigrants don't see a problem with living off welfare like perhaps some Dutch people do. One of my classes mentioned the element of shame when getting help from the country and I wonder how much of an impact that still has in welfare countries. Sure, everyone equally and shamelessly gets certain help (like subsidized university) but it still comes across from this book that specific kinds of help are a cause for shame (like living off welfare without ever trying to get a job).
Yet, in the same breath, I think about the amount of expat communities I met while traveling. It doesn't seem very hard to find an English speaking job in the Netherlands, move there, and create a circle of friends who are all international. And that would be fine because we'd all embrace the Western culture. The mere existence of the word expat vs immigrant already portrays this cultural gap.
Who's responsible?
By letting immigrants in, a country has to be aware that those immigrants might not fit in with the rest of the country. And it comes down to the question- do the immigrants want to fit it? Can they? How do we treat those who are different? And who's ultimately responsible for this?
When a horrible person climbs out of our society, we say society failed them, with bad mental health care, with bad education, with not enough support. And yet, when an immigrant does something similar, we blame their entire culture when really, once a country decides to take in immigrants, isn't that country also responsible for their assimilation?
When satellite cities exist, when the next generation grows up feeling inferior and missing something they never really had, romanticizing a culture that they don't necessarily know intimately, is the state not responsible?
And where exactly do we draw the line? It's obvious that someone who immigrated would care about what's going on in their country and we can't expect someone who immigrated to lose everything that they are but maybe the problem begins when they rebel against the values of their new countries?
Intuitively, I'd assume that by being a more accepting society, we discourage immigrants from attempting to assimilate. If there's a social pressure to speak Dutch, more immigrants will learn Dutch. We want the immigrants to live the best life they can in the country and assume that by learning the language and the culture, we give that chance.
I'm reminded of Linda Sarsour and Nikki Haley's books which prove that it doesn't matter what your country of origin is, your kids are going to be able to fit in the country if your parents work to assimilate. It would be fascinating to compare between the US and the EU in terms of immigration and see how assimilation works, when we consider that some EU countries put a lot of effort in the assimilation while the US doesn't seem to do that.
Conclusion
This conversation still seems relevant. This was published in 2006 but it holds up. I think it's fair to say the wave of immigrants of 2015 has made this topic even more prominent.
I feel that I can easily recommend this book to anyone who would like to learn more about the Netherlands, especially in regards to tolerance and immigration. It's so well written and very interesting. Of course, I'm positive that Dutch people will have much to say about this book and it's obviously going to make much more sense than this very long rambling review.
What I'm Taking With Me
- If I don't do something in my life that has to do with immigration, I'll be disappointed.
- Man, I wish my Identitypolitics in Europe class was longer, like we only had one class about immigration and damn, it was not enough.
- Who knew the Dutch keep talking about Spinoza? It's great because Spinoza isn't really part of the Jewish philosophy canon so I'm just happy someone adopted him into their philosophical history.
-As an Israeli reading this book, there is a certain sense of smugness- it's terrible but it's there. So many Europeans love to look down on Israeli policies about terror and in some ways, once Europe started to experience terrorism and much of the multicultural love disappeared, it's easy to feel a sense of condescension, like huh, it's easy to have the high moral ground when you never face the dilemmas.
Also, I handed in the exam in Identitypolitics in Europe today so here's hoping I wrote stuff that makes sense. Ahhhh.
---------
I have an exam later today in Identity Politics in Europe. Instead of going over my notes, I read this book. I'd like to think this will be helpful later like hey, I can now talk about Dutch identity in the face of immigration?
Review to come! It's time to go ponder about European identity and what it means to different people.
August 25, 2025
Ian Buruma, a former native of the Netherlands, finished this book in 2006 following the 2004 murder of Theo Van Gogh. Theo was a film maker and provocateur, and great grand-nephew of Vincent Van Gogh. A second generation Morrocan immigrant killed him on the street for making a movie that depicted the Quran written on a female body. Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a member of parliament, women's activist and Muslim apostate who collaborated on the project went into hiding and exile. The book explores the social and political environment before and after the events.
A history of Dutch immigration leading up to the millenium is covered briefly, from the Jewish diaspora and deportations (40's), influx from former colonies (50's), guest workers from the Middle East (60's), unemployment, welfare and crime (70's), refugees and asylum seekers from Asia (80's), to the complacency of mainstream politicians (90's). The events of 9/11 marked a change in public opinion regarding immigration. Liberalswho were disillusioned by the failure of multiculturalism and religious tolerance joined conservatives in defense of 'Western' values.
At the time of his death, Van Gogh was making a film about the murder of Pim Fortuyn, an outspoken critic of Dutch immigration laws and multi-culturalism. Fortuyn was killed in 2002 by a Dutch assailant opposed to his political views. After Van Gogh's murder conservative politicians made careers fighting immigration and 'Islamic' extremism. Geert Wilders, a member of parliament, was targeted in 2004. He has since lived under armed guard, named by Anwar Al-Awlaki on an Al-Qaida hit list that includes Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Salman Rushdie and the Charlie Hebdo cartoonists.
Buruma provides a panorama of interviews including Van Gogh's parents, his scriptwriter and producer, reformed delinquents from the killer's neighborhood, and a Moroccan psychiatrist who believes young immigrants are liable to a 'cultural psychosis'. He sketches out the life of Ayaan Hirsi Ali in some detail, and gives an account of Mohammed Bouyeri's life and trial. In his research he attempts to connect past, present and future events to Van Gogh's murder. It is an ambitious and fragmented approach, but reveals much about the challenges that face Europe.
Baruma takes a wide angle view of the events from a journalistic and intellectual vantage point. He is not on the side of limiting immigration or restricting liberties, nor does he underestimate the problems that exist where cultural and religious beliefs are at opposite ends of the spectrum. He argues secular principles must be defended while religious freedoms are maintained. Dialogue should be left open and cooperation sought. These are complex issues, not only for the Netherlands but in many places where the world has grown smaller and people have mingled.
A history of Dutch immigration leading up to the millenium is covered briefly, from the Jewish diaspora and deportations (40's), influx from former colonies (50's), guest workers from the Middle East (60's), unemployment, welfare and crime (70's), refugees and asylum seekers from Asia (80's), to the complacency of mainstream politicians (90's). The events of 9/11 marked a change in public opinion regarding immigration. Liberalswho were disillusioned by the failure of multiculturalism and religious tolerance joined conservatives in defense of 'Western' values.
At the time of his death, Van Gogh was making a film about the murder of Pim Fortuyn, an outspoken critic of Dutch immigration laws and multi-culturalism. Fortuyn was killed in 2002 by a Dutch assailant opposed to his political views. After Van Gogh's murder conservative politicians made careers fighting immigration and 'Islamic' extremism. Geert Wilders, a member of parliament, was targeted in 2004. He has since lived under armed guard, named by Anwar Al-Awlaki on an Al-Qaida hit list that includes Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Salman Rushdie and the Charlie Hebdo cartoonists.
Buruma provides a panorama of interviews including Van Gogh's parents, his scriptwriter and producer, reformed delinquents from the killer's neighborhood, and a Moroccan psychiatrist who believes young immigrants are liable to a 'cultural psychosis'. He sketches out the life of Ayaan Hirsi Ali in some detail, and gives an account of Mohammed Bouyeri's life and trial. In his research he attempts to connect past, present and future events to Van Gogh's murder. It is an ambitious and fragmented approach, but reveals much about the challenges that face Europe.
Baruma takes a wide angle view of the events from a journalistic and intellectual vantage point. He is not on the side of limiting immigration or restricting liberties, nor does he underestimate the problems that exist where cultural and religious beliefs are at opposite ends of the spectrum. He argues secular principles must be defended while religious freedoms are maintained. Dialogue should be left open and cooperation sought. These are complex issues, not only for the Netherlands but in many places where the world has grown smaller and people have mingled.
November 5, 2011
I believe in freedom of speech. Tom Cruise has the right to sound like an idiotic jerk, and I have the right to refuse to see anything he's in. My local paper can publish those cartoons, and people can protest outside the paper's building and write strongly worded letters. The KKK can march in Grey's Ferry, and the mayor can say, "go ahead, but we don't have enough cops, just so you know."
And if everyone isn't happy all the time, at least we're taking turns being miserable.
The right to speak your mind is a very important right.
Therefore, when someone gets killed for saying something, no matter how hateful or stupid (think of how many stupid things Hollywood people say) or gets threatened or the paper/publisher gets firebombed, I get angry. Yes, I can understand how those cartoons are hurtful; yes, if you feel its necessary march, protest, and boycott. But why are you killing that guy who had nothing to do it? Why firebomb the newspaper? And no rape or death threats. And leave children out of it.
When Theo Van Gogh was murdered, it made the news even over here. I had vaguely heard of both Van Gogh and Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I followed the case in a haphazard way, interested in how the Netherlands I had visited twice before would change after the murder. Eventually, I read Ali's work. I picked this book up for much the same reason, and it was one sale.
Buruma seems to be moved by much the same question of change, and he is far more knowledgable than I because he was raised in the Netherlands. The intent behind this book seems to be a desire to examine the culture and society both before and after the murder. To look at causes and effects. At times, Buruma seems to dance close to the line of blaming Ali and Van Gogh, especially when discussing the film Submission which is seen as the spark. But to see this book this way is too facile an assumpation. Buruma might disagree with Ali on some, if not all, of her points, but he seems to respect her immensely.
Buruma, at times, seems a bit conflicted in a thesis for the book. It is more than a cultural war, he seems in part to argue that in some ways it is a cultural vaccum. He links in some ways Van Gogh's murder to Pym's murder (Pym was a Dutch politican who was murdered. He seems to be a mix of both what Americans would consider Conservative and Liberal. At one point, Buruma describes him as a giant walking penis). Feeliing conflicted seems to be a good thing. If anything, Buruma seems to feel that the problems are caused by a "welfare state" that for good or bad intentions, sections off a part of its society. He seems to interview anyone who is connected to the question and reveals some intersting ideas - perhaps American society is better suited for immigrants, Dutch schools are not required to treat national history. The best part of his book is the last section, where the people he seems to interview offer the best analysis. These include the Dutch historian Geert Mak and Ahmed Alaulteb, a politican and a Muslim.
I'm not quite sure if I believe in the link to the guilt over World War II (Cohen's speech in the last section is very interesting), but the comparsion to football (soccer) fans is apt, considering what recently happened at a game - a fan ran on to the field, punched a player, and then took on the rest of the team. (Here, we have streakers who get tasered. Unless it's Basketball, in which case the team goes into the stands).
Buruma's book is a thought provoking and good analysis.
And if everyone isn't happy all the time, at least we're taking turns being miserable.
The right to speak your mind is a very important right.
Therefore, when someone gets killed for saying something, no matter how hateful or stupid (think of how many stupid things Hollywood people say) or gets threatened or the paper/publisher gets firebombed, I get angry. Yes, I can understand how those cartoons are hurtful; yes, if you feel its necessary march, protest, and boycott. But why are you killing that guy who had nothing to do it? Why firebomb the newspaper? And no rape or death threats. And leave children out of it.
When Theo Van Gogh was murdered, it made the news even over here. I had vaguely heard of both Van Gogh and Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I followed the case in a haphazard way, interested in how the Netherlands I had visited twice before would change after the murder. Eventually, I read Ali's work. I picked this book up for much the same reason, and it was one sale.
Buruma seems to be moved by much the same question of change, and he is far more knowledgable than I because he was raised in the Netherlands. The intent behind this book seems to be a desire to examine the culture and society both before and after the murder. To look at causes and effects. At times, Buruma seems to dance close to the line of blaming Ali and Van Gogh, especially when discussing the film Submission which is seen as the spark. But to see this book this way is too facile an assumpation. Buruma might disagree with Ali on some, if not all, of her points, but he seems to respect her immensely.
Buruma, at times, seems a bit conflicted in a thesis for the book. It is more than a cultural war, he seems in part to argue that in some ways it is a cultural vaccum. He links in some ways Van Gogh's murder to Pym's murder (Pym was a Dutch politican who was murdered. He seems to be a mix of both what Americans would consider Conservative and Liberal. At one point, Buruma describes him as a giant walking penis). Feeliing conflicted seems to be a good thing. If anything, Buruma seems to feel that the problems are caused by a "welfare state" that for good or bad intentions, sections off a part of its society. He seems to interview anyone who is connected to the question and reveals some intersting ideas - perhaps American society is better suited for immigrants, Dutch schools are not required to treat national history. The best part of his book is the last section, where the people he seems to interview offer the best analysis. These include the Dutch historian Geert Mak and Ahmed Alaulteb, a politican and a Muslim.
I'm not quite sure if I believe in the link to the guilt over World War II (Cohen's speech in the last section is very interesting), but the comparsion to football (soccer) fans is apt, considering what recently happened at a game - a fan ran on to the field, punched a player, and then took on the rest of the team. (Here, we have streakers who get tasered. Unless it's Basketball, in which case the team goes into the stands).
Buruma's book is a thought provoking and good analysis.
January 24, 2013
This book gives an excellent and disconcerting view of the relations between Muslims and the Dutch in Holland. Can a bridge be made of Muslim integration into Holland (Europe) or will the gulf continue to widen and with it senseless and fanatical violence? Ian Buruma provides no easy answers.
There are perhaps parallels between the jihadist murder of Theo van Gogh and Holland’s Calvinistic and puritanical past. Nevertheless there is a “Clash of Civilizations” in Holland. There were few Muslims present for the anniversary of Theo Van Gogh’s murder. Those Muslims (or ex-Muslims) who speak out and criticize how aspects of Islam are intolerant of basic Western values (like the emancipation of women) are forced to have bodyguards. They are no longer free to wander about in democratic Holland – for they are in fear of their lives. All-in-all this is a sobering account.
There are perhaps parallels between the jihadist murder of Theo van Gogh and Holland’s Calvinistic and puritanical past. Nevertheless there is a “Clash of Civilizations” in Holland. There were few Muslims present for the anniversary of Theo Van Gogh’s murder. Those Muslims (or ex-Muslims) who speak out and criticize how aspects of Islam are intolerant of basic Western values (like the emancipation of women) are forced to have bodyguards. They are no longer free to wander about in democratic Holland – for they are in fear of their lives. All-in-all this is a sobering account.
June 18, 2017
4.5 stars. Can't recommend this highly enough - an exploration of the "clash" of European Enlightenment, Islamic ideology, liberalism, conservatism, national mythology, and national reality. After the murder of the provocative Dutch filmmaker Theo Van Gogh by a Muslim extremist, Buruma went back to his homeland of the Netherlands to interview people of all different backgrounds about the place of Muslim immigrants in European society. Just as relevant today as it was a decade ago.
July 15, 2008
This book provides a lot of context for "Infidel," the bestseller by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. In fact, that's a lot of what this book is: context for the religious rift that's working its way through Western Europe. The book poses many good questions about just how far the West is willing to take its tolerance, and also how far Muslims are willing to assimilate. I would have liked to see more analysis from Buruma. When he chimes in, he's quite astute and perceptive; there's just not enough of him in this book for me.
June 12, 2015
I could barely put this book down. One morning in 2004, the great-grand-nephew of Vincent Van Gogh was killed as he bicycled on his way to work. Theo Van Gogh was a controversial public figure and filmmaker. He’d recently completed a film with another controversial figure Ayaan Hirsi Ali, about women and Islam. A Muslim Dutch citizen shot and stabbed Van Gogh. He also stuffed a letter into Van Gogh’s body threatening Hirsi Ali as well.
“Islam may soon become the majority religion in countries whose churches have been turned more and more into tourist sites, apartment houses, theatres, and places of entertainment. The French scholar Olivier Roy is right: Islam is now a European religion.”
The above quote struck me as so true. When I was in Europe four years ago, I was shocked to see a church in my old hometown that had turned into a mosque.
The author addresses the challenges of a historically liberal and tolerant culture.
“Islam may soon become the majority religion in countries whose churches have been turned more and more into tourist sites, apartment houses, theatres, and places of entertainment. The French scholar Olivier Roy is right: Islam is now a European religion.”
The above quote struck me as so true. When I was in Europe four years ago, I was shocked to see a church in my old hometown that had turned into a mosque.
The author addresses the challenges of a historically liberal and tolerant culture.
December 22, 2015
In Zeiten, in denen der Konservatismus sich schwer tut, eine deutlich umrissene Position einzunehmen, da er sich vereinnahmt sieht von Kräften, die vor nicht allzu langer Zeit eher dem rechtsradikalen oder zumindest rechtsextremen Spektrum zugeordnet worden wären, sucht man - auch als eher links Stehender - fast verzweifelt nach konservativen Stimmen, die man nicht nur ernst nehmen, sondern mit denen man in einen Diskurs treten kann, über Denkgrenzen hinweg. Ian Buruma, niederländisch-britischer Publizist, tätig als Journalist und Historiker, ist vielleicht nicht der klassische Konservative, doch wie die meisten Historiker und historisch Interessierten, ist auch er von einem durchaus konservativen Skeptizismus beseelt, der ihn mit Vorsicht und Behutsamkeit jene Themen betrachten läßt, die ihn umtreiben. Und er ist – seine Herkunft erklärt das wohl genügend – überzeugter Europäer und Abendländer. So sind seine Schriften - zumindest jene, die eher dem Meinungs- und essayistischen Spektrum zuzurechnen sind – durchaus gemäßigt konservative Betrachtungen einer Realität, die auf ganz verschiedenen Ebenen enormen Umwälzungen und Veränderungen unterworfen ist. Buruma, dessen Spezialgebiete eigentlich die japanische Kultur und Geschichte sind, richtet den Blick in zwei seiner drei letzten Werke jedoch auf eine ganz andere Kultur – die des Islam nämlich. Dabei fokussiert er auf den uns ins Bewußtsein drängenden Teil dieser Kultur – den uns bedrohenden nämlich.
In ihrem Werk OKZIDENTALISMUS: DER WESTEN IN DEN AUGEN SEINER FEINDE analysierten er und sein damaliger Mitautor Avishai Margalit 2004 scharf, in wie weit der Hass auf den Westen dortselbst generiert wird. Sie konstatierten einen Bumerangeffekt aufklärerischen Denkens, das als eine Art Katalysator antiwestlicher Impulse und Reflexe seine eigene Antithese liefert. Und mit der Antithese den Treibstoff antiwestlicher Polemik und Ideologie. Ob man dem nun folgen mag oder hier ebenfalls skeptisch bleibt – neben einer zwar steilen, doch durchaus nachvollziehbaren, weil klar argumentierten These bekommt man auch eine kleine aber durchaus feine, weil klar umrissene Kultur- und Ideengeschichte und einen Abriß des Wanderns und Wandels dieser Idee in den Zeitläuften.
Hier nun, im Folgeband DIE GRENZEN DER TOLERANZ. DER MORD AN THEO VAN GOGH formt und formuliert sich ein Echo der früheren Überlegungen und findet sich als Blaupause des gar nicht mehr kultur- oder ideengeschichtlich erklärbaren Ereignisses der Ermordung eines Menschen. Was eben abstrakte Überlegung war, wird hier nun bitterer, konkreter Ernst.
Als der Regisseur, Publizist und Journalist Theo van Gogh 2004 auf offener Straße von dem Fanatiker Mohammed Bouyeri ermordet wurde, versetzte dies die Niederlande in einen schweren Schockzustand. Eine Gesellschaft, die bis dato in der sicheren Annahme der eigenen Liberalität und der daraus resultierenden Toleranz gelebt hatte, musste nicht nur feststellen, daß diese Toleranz ganz offensichtlich dazu führen konnte, daß in ihrer Mitte Menschen unbemerkt auf vollkommen abwegige Pfade gerieten, sondern sie musste auch Gewahr werden, daß sie bei aller Toleranz zu heftiger, durchaus reaktionärer Abwehr fähig war.
Anders als sein Kollege, Freund und manchmal auch Widersacher Geert Mak, der in seinem Band DER MORD AN THEO VAN GOGH. GESCHICHTE EINER MORALISCHEN PANIK vor allem auf genau diese Entwicklung nach dem Attentat eingeht und noch einmal die Linien nachzeichnet, den Rissen nachspürt, die sich durch die Gesellschaft zogen – politisch, medial, intellektuell – , versucht Buruma, sich der Entwicklung anzunähern, die überhaupt erst zu einem solch schrecklichen Mord führen konnte. Er stellt uns das Umfeld vor, aus dem Theo van Gogh kam, er erklärt noch einmal die genauen historischen, sozialen und politischen Hintergründe, die dazu führten, daß gewisse Schichten der holländischen Gesellschaft sich liberalen Ideen öffneten, warum die niederländische Gesellschaft klassisch liberal in religiösen Fragen ist, wie die 60er Jahre und ihre spezifischen politischen Umwälzungen die moderne Gesellschaft des Landes geprägt haben. Dabei dröselt er auch die für Außenstehende manchmal schwer nachzuvollziehenden Zusammenhänge zwischen rechts- und linkslastigen, dennoch nicht unbedingt in obere und untere Schichten zu unterteilende Szenen aus Künstlern und Intellektuellen auf, die sich durchaus vermischen, die manchmal aber auch gar nicht so einfach zu identifizieren sind.
Beredtes Beispiel und dabei für den Sachverhalt um die Ermordung van Goghs auch nicht ganz unwesentlich, ist die Figur des – ja, was? Rechtspopulisten? Oder einfach nur Populisten und Demagogen? – Politikers Pim Fortuyn, der ebenfalls – 2002 – Opfer eines Attentats wurde. Fortuyn war eine umstrittene Figur, galt der traditionellen Linken als Rechtsausleger und war doch nicht so einfach einzuordnen. Bekennender Homosexueller, Islamkritiker, Kritiker der sogenannten Multikulti-Gesellschaft, trat er für eine radikal offene, demokratische, den Werten der Aufklärung verpflichtete Gesellschaft ein, nahm dabei auch eine deutlich antimonarchistische Haltung ein. Er selber wehrte sich vehement, mit den europäischen Rechtsdemagogen wie Jörg Haider oder Jean-Marie Le Pen in einen Topf geworfen zu werden. Es waren seine Rhetorik, seine Unbotmäßigkeit und die Kompromißlosigkeit, mit denen er vor allem seine Haltung wider den Islam (auch als Kultur) artikulierte, die seine Kritiker auf den Plan riefen. Vergleicht man seine Äußerungen mit jenen, die man heute, in Anbetracht der vielleicht schwersten Flüchtlingskrise in Europa seit Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs, vernehmen muß, muten sie oft eher gemäßigt und vor allem differenziert an. Dennoch bleibt festzuhalten, daß Fortuyn, was das Zusammenleben mit den muslimischen Mitbürgern anging, unversöhnlich blieb und wenig zimperlich war, wenn es um begriffliche oder inhaltliche Auseinandersetzung ging. Nicht nur, aber auch seine Homosexualität machte ihn zu einer Ausnahmefigur, die nicht ohne weiteres in die Phalanx europäischer Rechtsausleger und -demagogen der Jahrtausendwende eingeordnet werden kann.
Von Fortuyn, der hier als eine Art Blaupause für eine Gesellschaft dient, die sich ihrer eigenen Werte und Überzeugungen immer unsicherer wird und darob zusehends intoleranter wird, zieht Buruma eine Linie zu van Gogh und vor allem zu der Frauenrechtlerin, Islamkritikerin und Politikerin Ayaan Hirsi Ali, die für ihre radikalen Angriffe auf den Islam als Kultur und ihre kompromißlos aufklärerische Haltung bekannt geworden ist. Sie war es, die die Idee und das Drehbuch für jenen 12minütigen Film, SUBMISSION (2004), hatte, für den van Gogh schließlich sterben musste. Denn sein Mörder berief sich explizit auf dieses Werk. Man kann über den Film denken, was man will – es werden u.a. nackte, nur leicht verschleierte Frauen gezeigt, auf deren Körper Koranverse projiziert werden – sein Regisseur starb für oder wegen der Ausübung seiner Kunst. Ein ungeheuerlicher Vorgang für westlich geprägte Menschen, die die Auseinandersetzung mit Kunst, Religion oder Philosophie wie selbstverständlich praktizieren und die regelmäßig wiederkehrenden Skandale und Skandälchen, die der Kulturbetrieb zu produzieren versteht, natürlich kennen. Daß in unserer Mitte ein Mensch sich das Recht herausnimmt, einen anderen Menschen wegen dessen künstlerischen oder persönlichen Äußerungen das Leben zu nehmen und diesen Vorgang anschließend auch noch als maximal richtige Vorgehensweise hinzustellen, ist für aufgeklärte, abendländische Gesellschaften unerträglich. Ob die von Ali gewünschte Wirkung des Films – die Unterdrückung der Frau durch den Koran und somit durch die Religion selbst (nicht nur die sie auslebende Kultur) darzustellen und zu entlarven – nun erzielt wird oder nicht, ob es sich hierbei um einen gültigen Beitrag zum Kultur- und Religionsdiskurs handelt oder nicht, ob die Beleidigung anderer Religionen das gängige und nutzvollste Mittel der Auseinandersetzung ist oder sein kann – nichts rechtfertigt natürlich das Vorgehen von van Goghs Mörder.
Buruma vermischt die Entwicklungen seiner drei Hauptprotagonisten auf geschickte Weise, der Leser kann folgen und nachvollziehen, aus welchem linkssozialistischen Biotop bei gleichzeitiger upper-class-Erziehung van Gogh stammte, er kann nachvollziehen, wieso Ayaan Hirsi Ali so unversöhnlich ist und sein muß, wie sie es ist und es gelingt Buruma sogar – mit Abstrichen – das Milieu nachzuzeichnen, in dem Mohammed Bouyeri aufwuchs. So entsteht ein packendes Gesellschaftsportrait, die Sollbruchstellen einer säkularen, aufgeklärten Demokratie werden wie von Zauberhand sichtbar und man versteht bei der Lektüre das unglaubliche Dilemma, in dem sich jene befinden, die keinesfalls denen nachgeben wollen, die wirklich der Meinung sind, uns ihr Weltbild und ihre Religion aufzuoktroyieren zu können, aber auch nicht denen das Wort reden möchten, die meinen, mit grobschlächtigen Ideen, vereinfachenden Erklärungen und ansonsten herkömmlichen, teils rassistischen Ressentiments dagegenhalten zu müssen. Denn letztere begreifen nicht, wie sie ersteren in die Falle tappen und exakt den Reflex zeigen, den die Islamisten hervorlocken wollen. Zwar ist dies eine andere Diskussion, doch bedenkt man, daß van Gogh schon früh angefangen hatte, nicht nur Juden übel zu beschimpfen, weil er ihnen unterstellte, eine Art Holocaust-Symptom auszubilden (was Wunder), sondern Moslems oft mit herabwürdigen Schimpfkanonaden belegte („Ziegenfi***r“), wenn man ebenso bedenkt, daß Ali in einer der zahlreichen Auseinandersetzungen um ihre radikale Haltung hinsichtlich des Islam äußerte, Beleidigung sei ein Grundrecht des Westens („I´m here to offend you“) – und damit zweifelsfrei recht hat – , dann streift Burumas Buch doch zweifellos auch diese Thematik. Zumal er keinen Hehl daraus macht, daß er sowohl van Goghs kunstvolle Schimpftiraden, als auch Alis oft als arrogant und herablassend empfundene Art, ihre Meinung zu verbreiten, durchaus problematisch findet. Ob gewollt oder nicht, dem Leser geht durchaus der Gedanke durch den Kopf, ob nicht hier schon die „Grenzen der Toleranz“ erreicht sind?
Es wurde bereits erwähnt, daß Burumas Annäherung an den lebensweltlichen Hintergrund von Bouyeri etwas schwächer ausfällt. Sicherlich hat das damit zu tun, daß der Autor die anderen Beteiligten – Fortuyn, Ali und auch van Gogh, aber auch etliche andere Geistesgrößen und Intellektuelle, Künstler und Kulturschaffende – persönlich schon lange vor den Ereignissen von 2004 kannte, während ihm – das kann man nach der Lektüre des Buches so wohl sagen – Bouyeris Welt völlig fremd bleibt. Und wie sollte es auch anders sein? So referiert der Autor die bekannten und weniger bekannten Zahlen und Fakten über Einwanderer, deren Lebensumstände und der Entwicklung der Niederlande zu einem Einwandererland, doch spürt man deutlich, daß Buruma fremdelt, wenn er zu erklären versucht, wieso ein zwar introvertierter, doch an sich den westlichen Werten und auch den in westlichen Gesellschaften verfügbaren Luxusgütern nicht abgeneigter junger Mann sich in einen radikalislamischen, zum Mord bereiten Fanatiker entwickelt. Damit steht er natürlich in einer endlosen Reihe von westlichen Intellektuellen, die sich bemüht haben, dem Phänomen nachzuspüren – John Updike ebenso wie Hans Magnus Enzensberger seien stellvertretend genannt – und gescheitert sind; scheitern MUSSTEN, möchte man sagen, denn genau in dieser absoluten Differenz, dieser Kluft, die wir gedanklich wohl nicht zu überwinden in der Lage sind, liegt doch die Antwort auf unsere Fragen. Diese absolute Differenz, die uns vom Anderen, vom Fremden trennt, ist das, was wir aushalten und bedenken müssen, ohne jemals damit rechnen zu können, im westlich-aufgeklärten Sinne zu begreifen. Eine Aufgabe, so gewaltig, weil nicht vorstellbar, daß die meisten direkt aufgeben und lieber ihren Abwehrreflexen nachgeben. Nicht, daß man die nicht haben dürfte – noch so eine Differenzierung, die manchen schwerfällt – , die Frage ist aber, wie man damit umgeht. Wie sehr man sich dem eigenen Fremden in sich überläßt und bereit ist, seinen Impulsen zu folgen. Oder ob man bereit ist, sie zu bändigen und zu hinterfragen.
Geert Mak – der eine gemäßigte Sozialdemokratie und somit (und als Historiker) selbst eine gewisse konservative Haltung vertritt – ist in letzterem Punkt etwas klarer und vielleicht auch ehrlicher, als es Buruma ist. Dessen Text franst zum Ende hin aus, er scheint zu keiner Conclusio, keinem Schluß zu gelangen und sich auch zu keiner klaren Haltung durchringen zu können. Nun ist Buruma natürlich selbst wesentlicher Teil einer westlichen Elite, die ganz im aufgeklärten Sinne der Moderne extrem weit entfernt ist von diesem spezifischen Fremden, das wir momentan als Bedrohung empfinden. Und dieses Bedrohliche, das sich-bedroht-fühlen durch etwas Fremdes und Anderes, das spürt man hier als unterschwellige Ängste, Befürchtungen, Stimmungen. Und Buruma wirkt ebenso ratlos, wie wir es alle sind. Wo Mak das Fremde zwar benennt, sich ob seines Unverständnisses jedoch auf das besinnt, worüber er eine Aussage machen kann: den eigenen kulturellen Background, drückt Burumas Text dessen Befremden und eben das Unverständnis aus, ohne dabei jedoch einen Mehrwert zu schaffen. Der Ort, an dem er sich befindet, ist dem Leser nur allzu bekannt. Mak weiß uns zumindest auf uns selbst zurückzuwerfen und erinnert uns daran, daß wir uns nicht selbst verlieren dürfen bei einem Kampf, der uns aufgezwungen wird und der unsere ganze abendländisch-rationale Kenntnis und Einsicht erfordern wird. Man mag Maks Erschrecken über den Verlust liberalen Denkens für naiv halten, zumindest gelingt es ihm, den Leser auf sich selbst zurück zu führen.
An diesem Punkt krankt Burumas ansonsten sehr erhellender Text. Bücher wie dieses sind in gewisser Weise Gebrauchsprosa, da sie in kurzen Intervallen auf Geschehnisse und Ereignisse und Entwicklungen reagieren, die wirklich zu erfassen manchmal Jahre, gar Jahrzehnte braucht. Und so drücken sie oft weniger eine wirklich durchdachte intellektuelle Position aus, als vielmehr eine Verortung des Diskurses an seiner jeweiligen Stelle. Ob man Geert Maks Band zur Hand nimmt oder dieses Werk von Ian Buruma – man hat jeweils einen wesentlichen Diskursbeitrag, dessen Gedanken man sich nicht verschließen, denen man jedoch – wie keinem Beteiligten dieser Debatten – kritiklos folgen sollte. Die Debatte jedoch, die Debatte ist aktueller denn je und wird die Gesellschaften Westeuropas noch lange beschäftigen. Und es wird bitter nötig sein, daß sich gerade gemäßigte konservative Stimmen in diese Debatten einmischen und das Feld nicht jenen überlassen, die für sich in Anspruch nehmen, konservativ zu sein, ohne je begriffen zu haben, was das eigentlich bedeutet. Die Schreihälse und Vereinfacher, die Demagogen und angeblichen Freunde der Meinungsfreiheit, die aber die Meinung anderer nur schwer ertragen können, die übernehmen zusehends die Deutungshoheit über den Begriff „konservativ“. Das nämlich muß man auch begreifen: Wir haben es hier nicht nur mit einem interkulturellen Austausch oder gar einem Streit zu tun, sondern durchaus auch mit einem intrakulturellen. Der Islam ist lediglich der Anlaß, der dazu dient, in den westlichen Gesellschaften einen grundsätzlichen Dissens aufzugreifen, zu thematisieren und auszutragen. Die Kluft, die eigentliche Kluft, verläuft nicht zwischen dem Islam und dem Christentum (oder generell den „Ungläubigen“), die eigentliche Kluft verläuft mitten durch eine Gesellschaft, die ganz offensichtlich dabei ist, ihre Basis, den Grund, auf dem sie steht, zu verlieren. Das ist die EIGENTLICHE Gefahr.
In ihrem Werk OKZIDENTALISMUS: DER WESTEN IN DEN AUGEN SEINER FEINDE analysierten er und sein damaliger Mitautor Avishai Margalit 2004 scharf, in wie weit der Hass auf den Westen dortselbst generiert wird. Sie konstatierten einen Bumerangeffekt aufklärerischen Denkens, das als eine Art Katalysator antiwestlicher Impulse und Reflexe seine eigene Antithese liefert. Und mit der Antithese den Treibstoff antiwestlicher Polemik und Ideologie. Ob man dem nun folgen mag oder hier ebenfalls skeptisch bleibt – neben einer zwar steilen, doch durchaus nachvollziehbaren, weil klar argumentierten These bekommt man auch eine kleine aber durchaus feine, weil klar umrissene Kultur- und Ideengeschichte und einen Abriß des Wanderns und Wandels dieser Idee in den Zeitläuften.
Hier nun, im Folgeband DIE GRENZEN DER TOLERANZ. DER MORD AN THEO VAN GOGH formt und formuliert sich ein Echo der früheren Überlegungen und findet sich als Blaupause des gar nicht mehr kultur- oder ideengeschichtlich erklärbaren Ereignisses der Ermordung eines Menschen. Was eben abstrakte Überlegung war, wird hier nun bitterer, konkreter Ernst.
Als der Regisseur, Publizist und Journalist Theo van Gogh 2004 auf offener Straße von dem Fanatiker Mohammed Bouyeri ermordet wurde, versetzte dies die Niederlande in einen schweren Schockzustand. Eine Gesellschaft, die bis dato in der sicheren Annahme der eigenen Liberalität und der daraus resultierenden Toleranz gelebt hatte, musste nicht nur feststellen, daß diese Toleranz ganz offensichtlich dazu führen konnte, daß in ihrer Mitte Menschen unbemerkt auf vollkommen abwegige Pfade gerieten, sondern sie musste auch Gewahr werden, daß sie bei aller Toleranz zu heftiger, durchaus reaktionärer Abwehr fähig war.
Anders als sein Kollege, Freund und manchmal auch Widersacher Geert Mak, der in seinem Band DER MORD AN THEO VAN GOGH. GESCHICHTE EINER MORALISCHEN PANIK vor allem auf genau diese Entwicklung nach dem Attentat eingeht und noch einmal die Linien nachzeichnet, den Rissen nachspürt, die sich durch die Gesellschaft zogen – politisch, medial, intellektuell – , versucht Buruma, sich der Entwicklung anzunähern, die überhaupt erst zu einem solch schrecklichen Mord führen konnte. Er stellt uns das Umfeld vor, aus dem Theo van Gogh kam, er erklärt noch einmal die genauen historischen, sozialen und politischen Hintergründe, die dazu führten, daß gewisse Schichten der holländischen Gesellschaft sich liberalen Ideen öffneten, warum die niederländische Gesellschaft klassisch liberal in religiösen Fragen ist, wie die 60er Jahre und ihre spezifischen politischen Umwälzungen die moderne Gesellschaft des Landes geprägt haben. Dabei dröselt er auch die für Außenstehende manchmal schwer nachzuvollziehenden Zusammenhänge zwischen rechts- und linkslastigen, dennoch nicht unbedingt in obere und untere Schichten zu unterteilende Szenen aus Künstlern und Intellektuellen auf, die sich durchaus vermischen, die manchmal aber auch gar nicht so einfach zu identifizieren sind.
Beredtes Beispiel und dabei für den Sachverhalt um die Ermordung van Goghs auch nicht ganz unwesentlich, ist die Figur des – ja, was? Rechtspopulisten? Oder einfach nur Populisten und Demagogen? – Politikers Pim Fortuyn, der ebenfalls – 2002 – Opfer eines Attentats wurde. Fortuyn war eine umstrittene Figur, galt der traditionellen Linken als Rechtsausleger und war doch nicht so einfach einzuordnen. Bekennender Homosexueller, Islamkritiker, Kritiker der sogenannten Multikulti-Gesellschaft, trat er für eine radikal offene, demokratische, den Werten der Aufklärung verpflichtete Gesellschaft ein, nahm dabei auch eine deutlich antimonarchistische Haltung ein. Er selber wehrte sich vehement, mit den europäischen Rechtsdemagogen wie Jörg Haider oder Jean-Marie Le Pen in einen Topf geworfen zu werden. Es waren seine Rhetorik, seine Unbotmäßigkeit und die Kompromißlosigkeit, mit denen er vor allem seine Haltung wider den Islam (auch als Kultur) artikulierte, die seine Kritiker auf den Plan riefen. Vergleicht man seine Äußerungen mit jenen, die man heute, in Anbetracht der vielleicht schwersten Flüchtlingskrise in Europa seit Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs, vernehmen muß, muten sie oft eher gemäßigt und vor allem differenziert an. Dennoch bleibt festzuhalten, daß Fortuyn, was das Zusammenleben mit den muslimischen Mitbürgern anging, unversöhnlich blieb und wenig zimperlich war, wenn es um begriffliche oder inhaltliche Auseinandersetzung ging. Nicht nur, aber auch seine Homosexualität machte ihn zu einer Ausnahmefigur, die nicht ohne weiteres in die Phalanx europäischer Rechtsausleger und -demagogen der Jahrtausendwende eingeordnet werden kann.
Von Fortuyn, der hier als eine Art Blaupause für eine Gesellschaft dient, die sich ihrer eigenen Werte und Überzeugungen immer unsicherer wird und darob zusehends intoleranter wird, zieht Buruma eine Linie zu van Gogh und vor allem zu der Frauenrechtlerin, Islamkritikerin und Politikerin Ayaan Hirsi Ali, die für ihre radikalen Angriffe auf den Islam als Kultur und ihre kompromißlos aufklärerische Haltung bekannt geworden ist. Sie war es, die die Idee und das Drehbuch für jenen 12minütigen Film, SUBMISSION (2004), hatte, für den van Gogh schließlich sterben musste. Denn sein Mörder berief sich explizit auf dieses Werk. Man kann über den Film denken, was man will – es werden u.a. nackte, nur leicht verschleierte Frauen gezeigt, auf deren Körper Koranverse projiziert werden – sein Regisseur starb für oder wegen der Ausübung seiner Kunst. Ein ungeheuerlicher Vorgang für westlich geprägte Menschen, die die Auseinandersetzung mit Kunst, Religion oder Philosophie wie selbstverständlich praktizieren und die regelmäßig wiederkehrenden Skandale und Skandälchen, die der Kulturbetrieb zu produzieren versteht, natürlich kennen. Daß in unserer Mitte ein Mensch sich das Recht herausnimmt, einen anderen Menschen wegen dessen künstlerischen oder persönlichen Äußerungen das Leben zu nehmen und diesen Vorgang anschließend auch noch als maximal richtige Vorgehensweise hinzustellen, ist für aufgeklärte, abendländische Gesellschaften unerträglich. Ob die von Ali gewünschte Wirkung des Films – die Unterdrückung der Frau durch den Koran und somit durch die Religion selbst (nicht nur die sie auslebende Kultur) darzustellen und zu entlarven – nun erzielt wird oder nicht, ob es sich hierbei um einen gültigen Beitrag zum Kultur- und Religionsdiskurs handelt oder nicht, ob die Beleidigung anderer Religionen das gängige und nutzvollste Mittel der Auseinandersetzung ist oder sein kann – nichts rechtfertigt natürlich das Vorgehen von van Goghs Mörder.
Buruma vermischt die Entwicklungen seiner drei Hauptprotagonisten auf geschickte Weise, der Leser kann folgen und nachvollziehen, aus welchem linkssozialistischen Biotop bei gleichzeitiger upper-class-Erziehung van Gogh stammte, er kann nachvollziehen, wieso Ayaan Hirsi Ali so unversöhnlich ist und sein muß, wie sie es ist und es gelingt Buruma sogar – mit Abstrichen – das Milieu nachzuzeichnen, in dem Mohammed Bouyeri aufwuchs. So entsteht ein packendes Gesellschaftsportrait, die Sollbruchstellen einer säkularen, aufgeklärten Demokratie werden wie von Zauberhand sichtbar und man versteht bei der Lektüre das unglaubliche Dilemma, in dem sich jene befinden, die keinesfalls denen nachgeben wollen, die wirklich der Meinung sind, uns ihr Weltbild und ihre Religion aufzuoktroyieren zu können, aber auch nicht denen das Wort reden möchten, die meinen, mit grobschlächtigen Ideen, vereinfachenden Erklärungen und ansonsten herkömmlichen, teils rassistischen Ressentiments dagegenhalten zu müssen. Denn letztere begreifen nicht, wie sie ersteren in die Falle tappen und exakt den Reflex zeigen, den die Islamisten hervorlocken wollen. Zwar ist dies eine andere Diskussion, doch bedenkt man, daß van Gogh schon früh angefangen hatte, nicht nur Juden übel zu beschimpfen, weil er ihnen unterstellte, eine Art Holocaust-Symptom auszubilden (was Wunder), sondern Moslems oft mit herabwürdigen Schimpfkanonaden belegte („Ziegenfi***r“), wenn man ebenso bedenkt, daß Ali in einer der zahlreichen Auseinandersetzungen um ihre radikale Haltung hinsichtlich des Islam äußerte, Beleidigung sei ein Grundrecht des Westens („I´m here to offend you“) – und damit zweifelsfrei recht hat – , dann streift Burumas Buch doch zweifellos auch diese Thematik. Zumal er keinen Hehl daraus macht, daß er sowohl van Goghs kunstvolle Schimpftiraden, als auch Alis oft als arrogant und herablassend empfundene Art, ihre Meinung zu verbreiten, durchaus problematisch findet. Ob gewollt oder nicht, dem Leser geht durchaus der Gedanke durch den Kopf, ob nicht hier schon die „Grenzen der Toleranz“ erreicht sind?
Es wurde bereits erwähnt, daß Burumas Annäherung an den lebensweltlichen Hintergrund von Bouyeri etwas schwächer ausfällt. Sicherlich hat das damit zu tun, daß der Autor die anderen Beteiligten – Fortuyn, Ali und auch van Gogh, aber auch etliche andere Geistesgrößen und Intellektuelle, Künstler und Kulturschaffende – persönlich schon lange vor den Ereignissen von 2004 kannte, während ihm – das kann man nach der Lektüre des Buches so wohl sagen – Bouyeris Welt völlig fremd bleibt. Und wie sollte es auch anders sein? So referiert der Autor die bekannten und weniger bekannten Zahlen und Fakten über Einwanderer, deren Lebensumstände und der Entwicklung der Niederlande zu einem Einwandererland, doch spürt man deutlich, daß Buruma fremdelt, wenn er zu erklären versucht, wieso ein zwar introvertierter, doch an sich den westlichen Werten und auch den in westlichen Gesellschaften verfügbaren Luxusgütern nicht abgeneigter junger Mann sich in einen radikalislamischen, zum Mord bereiten Fanatiker entwickelt. Damit steht er natürlich in einer endlosen Reihe von westlichen Intellektuellen, die sich bemüht haben, dem Phänomen nachzuspüren – John Updike ebenso wie Hans Magnus Enzensberger seien stellvertretend genannt – und gescheitert sind; scheitern MUSSTEN, möchte man sagen, denn genau in dieser absoluten Differenz, dieser Kluft, die wir gedanklich wohl nicht zu überwinden in der Lage sind, liegt doch die Antwort auf unsere Fragen. Diese absolute Differenz, die uns vom Anderen, vom Fremden trennt, ist das, was wir aushalten und bedenken müssen, ohne jemals damit rechnen zu können, im westlich-aufgeklärten Sinne zu begreifen. Eine Aufgabe, so gewaltig, weil nicht vorstellbar, daß die meisten direkt aufgeben und lieber ihren Abwehrreflexen nachgeben. Nicht, daß man die nicht haben dürfte – noch so eine Differenzierung, die manchen schwerfällt – , die Frage ist aber, wie man damit umgeht. Wie sehr man sich dem eigenen Fremden in sich überläßt und bereit ist, seinen Impulsen zu folgen. Oder ob man bereit ist, sie zu bändigen und zu hinterfragen.
Geert Mak – der eine gemäßigte Sozialdemokratie und somit (und als Historiker) selbst eine gewisse konservative Haltung vertritt – ist in letzterem Punkt etwas klarer und vielleicht auch ehrlicher, als es Buruma ist. Dessen Text franst zum Ende hin aus, er scheint zu keiner Conclusio, keinem Schluß zu gelangen und sich auch zu keiner klaren Haltung durchringen zu können. Nun ist Buruma natürlich selbst wesentlicher Teil einer westlichen Elite, die ganz im aufgeklärten Sinne der Moderne extrem weit entfernt ist von diesem spezifischen Fremden, das wir momentan als Bedrohung empfinden. Und dieses Bedrohliche, das sich-bedroht-fühlen durch etwas Fremdes und Anderes, das spürt man hier als unterschwellige Ängste, Befürchtungen, Stimmungen. Und Buruma wirkt ebenso ratlos, wie wir es alle sind. Wo Mak das Fremde zwar benennt, sich ob seines Unverständnisses jedoch auf das besinnt, worüber er eine Aussage machen kann: den eigenen kulturellen Background, drückt Burumas Text dessen Befremden und eben das Unverständnis aus, ohne dabei jedoch einen Mehrwert zu schaffen. Der Ort, an dem er sich befindet, ist dem Leser nur allzu bekannt. Mak weiß uns zumindest auf uns selbst zurückzuwerfen und erinnert uns daran, daß wir uns nicht selbst verlieren dürfen bei einem Kampf, der uns aufgezwungen wird und der unsere ganze abendländisch-rationale Kenntnis und Einsicht erfordern wird. Man mag Maks Erschrecken über den Verlust liberalen Denkens für naiv halten, zumindest gelingt es ihm, den Leser auf sich selbst zurück zu führen.
An diesem Punkt krankt Burumas ansonsten sehr erhellender Text. Bücher wie dieses sind in gewisser Weise Gebrauchsprosa, da sie in kurzen Intervallen auf Geschehnisse und Ereignisse und Entwicklungen reagieren, die wirklich zu erfassen manchmal Jahre, gar Jahrzehnte braucht. Und so drücken sie oft weniger eine wirklich durchdachte intellektuelle Position aus, als vielmehr eine Verortung des Diskurses an seiner jeweiligen Stelle. Ob man Geert Maks Band zur Hand nimmt oder dieses Werk von Ian Buruma – man hat jeweils einen wesentlichen Diskursbeitrag, dessen Gedanken man sich nicht verschließen, denen man jedoch – wie keinem Beteiligten dieser Debatten – kritiklos folgen sollte. Die Debatte jedoch, die Debatte ist aktueller denn je und wird die Gesellschaften Westeuropas noch lange beschäftigen. Und es wird bitter nötig sein, daß sich gerade gemäßigte konservative Stimmen in diese Debatten einmischen und das Feld nicht jenen überlassen, die für sich in Anspruch nehmen, konservativ zu sein, ohne je begriffen zu haben, was das eigentlich bedeutet. Die Schreihälse und Vereinfacher, die Demagogen und angeblichen Freunde der Meinungsfreiheit, die aber die Meinung anderer nur schwer ertragen können, die übernehmen zusehends die Deutungshoheit über den Begriff „konservativ“. Das nämlich muß man auch begreifen: Wir haben es hier nicht nur mit einem interkulturellen Austausch oder gar einem Streit zu tun, sondern durchaus auch mit einem intrakulturellen. Der Islam ist lediglich der Anlaß, der dazu dient, in den westlichen Gesellschaften einen grundsätzlichen Dissens aufzugreifen, zu thematisieren und auszutragen. Die Kluft, die eigentliche Kluft, verläuft nicht zwischen dem Islam und dem Christentum (oder generell den „Ungläubigen“), die eigentliche Kluft verläuft mitten durch eine Gesellschaft, die ganz offensichtlich dabei ist, ihre Basis, den Grund, auf dem sie steht, zu verlieren. Das ist die EIGENTLICHE Gefahr.
May 13, 2013
Reading this book was a mind-altering experience -- and not in a good way. I expect well written, intelligent books to help clear away confusion, but when it comes liberalism, Islam and tolerance, this one only added to mine.
Murder in Amsterdam was recommended to me by someone I respect (who told me that it was the "best book" he'd read "in a long time") but I didn't even realize it was a work of non-fiction until I ordered it -- much less know what it was about. What it IS about, specifically, is the stabbing death in Amsterdam in 2004 of Theo van Gogh -- film-maker and critic of Muslim immigration into Holland -- by a Moroccan Dutchman named Mohammed Bouyeri.
As a history of the issues, beliefs, laws, events, factions, and social and political undertows that led to the Theo van Gogh's murder, I found Murder in Amsterdam entirely satisfactory. It was also a rich exploration of the history of Dutch tolerance -- particularly since World War II, when, Buruma says (and this was something I hadn't known), many Dutch people felt that their country had not done anywhere near enough to protect its Jews from extermination. How widespread guilt over historical events led to a nearly no-strings-attached approach to immigration from Morocco, Turkey and other Arab countries, which then collided with Holland's almost mindless pride in its freedoms of speech and lifestyle, combined with the country's incapacity at any level to support or even begin to understand the mindsets of its newcomers, is a complex tale which Ian Buruma un/ravels with care, objectivity and intelligence.
The book is not reassuring on any level. It offers no guidance as to how Westerners (atheists, Christians, Jews) can co-exist with devout Muslims, or how we can even communicate with one another to forge any kind of global peace. Broadly speaking, we are two cultures, one of which takes a collective approach to life and death, the other an individualistic approach. The two approaches are simply not compatible.
As the death of Theo van Gogh and the recent events in Boston demonstrate, it is not the tolerant Muslims among us who want to harm, much less destroy, our western systems and institutions, but rather those who are unable to adapt to the alien, usually unwelcoming, totally self-focused milieu that comprises so much of the western world -- and of those, the tiny minority who turn to ultra-extreme and ultra-literal interpretations of ancient texts for solace and direction. Unfortunately, the behaviours of such extremists are so incomprehensible that they incite fear among many of us of all Muslims. That attitude leads in turn to the kind of prejudice that serves as a forge for even more extremism -- particularly among second-generation immigrants who cannot find work, acceptance or self-respect in their new countries.
I don't know the answers. I just know that we need to pay attention to the questions. And we need to make more effort to understand, rather than turning away from what we do not understand. Maybe reading this book will help that understanding, even as it undermines it.
Murder in Amsterdam was recommended to me by someone I respect (who told me that it was the "best book" he'd read "in a long time") but I didn't even realize it was a work of non-fiction until I ordered it -- much less know what it was about. What it IS about, specifically, is the stabbing death in Amsterdam in 2004 of Theo van Gogh -- film-maker and critic of Muslim immigration into Holland -- by a Moroccan Dutchman named Mohammed Bouyeri.
As a history of the issues, beliefs, laws, events, factions, and social and political undertows that led to the Theo van Gogh's murder, I found Murder in Amsterdam entirely satisfactory. It was also a rich exploration of the history of Dutch tolerance -- particularly since World War II, when, Buruma says (and this was something I hadn't known), many Dutch people felt that their country had not done anywhere near enough to protect its Jews from extermination. How widespread guilt over historical events led to a nearly no-strings-attached approach to immigration from Morocco, Turkey and other Arab countries, which then collided with Holland's almost mindless pride in its freedoms of speech and lifestyle, combined with the country's incapacity at any level to support or even begin to understand the mindsets of its newcomers, is a complex tale which Ian Buruma un/ravels with care, objectivity and intelligence.
The book is not reassuring on any level. It offers no guidance as to how Westerners (atheists, Christians, Jews) can co-exist with devout Muslims, or how we can even communicate with one another to forge any kind of global peace. Broadly speaking, we are two cultures, one of which takes a collective approach to life and death, the other an individualistic approach. The two approaches are simply not compatible.
As the death of Theo van Gogh and the recent events in Boston demonstrate, it is not the tolerant Muslims among us who want to harm, much less destroy, our western systems and institutions, but rather those who are unable to adapt to the alien, usually unwelcoming, totally self-focused milieu that comprises so much of the western world -- and of those, the tiny minority who turn to ultra-extreme and ultra-literal interpretations of ancient texts for solace and direction. Unfortunately, the behaviours of such extremists are so incomprehensible that they incite fear among many of us of all Muslims. That attitude leads in turn to the kind of prejudice that serves as a forge for even more extremism -- particularly among second-generation immigrants who cannot find work, acceptance or self-respect in their new countries.
I don't know the answers. I just know that we need to pay attention to the questions. And we need to make more effort to understand, rather than turning away from what we do not understand. Maybe reading this book will help that understanding, even as it undermines it.
May 8, 2007
Very interesting read from an author who knows Amsterdam very well.
I think overall, Buruma is informed by the reality that the violence practiced by political Islam today is not unique to Islam, but rather manifests itself in all religions/ideologies. “Messianic violence can attach itself to any creed” as he illustrates through the tribal aggression of Dutch soccer fans. (p.261)
Moreover, he notes that some of the aspect of Western culture that we take for granted, and rail against Islam for its backwardness on, are a relatively recent phenomenon for us. For example, in the 1937 the Catholic minister for social affairs in Holland wanted to ban all women from working, and “until 1954, women in government jobs were automatically fired when they got married. These were thought to be necessary measures to protect family life.” (p.123) he also notes that that Anti-Semitism was alive and well in the Netherlands until the late 1960s (p.86), while the first serious study of the Holocaust was not published in the Netherlands until 1965 (p.81)
Unfortunately, he notes that the intolerance is alive and well today – citing one mainstream politician who told Buruma that “one must never underestimate the degree of hatred that the Dutch people feel for Moroccan and Turkish immigrants. My political success is based upon the fact that I was prepared to listen to such people.” (p.64)
Overall, a very stimulating read that forces us to ask hard questions of ourselves.
I think overall, Buruma is informed by the reality that the violence practiced by political Islam today is not unique to Islam, but rather manifests itself in all religions/ideologies. “Messianic violence can attach itself to any creed” as he illustrates through the tribal aggression of Dutch soccer fans. (p.261)
Moreover, he notes that some of the aspect of Western culture that we take for granted, and rail against Islam for its backwardness on, are a relatively recent phenomenon for us. For example, in the 1937 the Catholic minister for social affairs in Holland wanted to ban all women from working, and “until 1954, women in government jobs were automatically fired when they got married. These were thought to be necessary measures to protect family life.” (p.123) he also notes that that Anti-Semitism was alive and well in the Netherlands until the late 1960s (p.86), while the first serious study of the Holocaust was not published in the Netherlands until 1965 (p.81)
Unfortunately, he notes that the intolerance is alive and well today – citing one mainstream politician who told Buruma that “one must never underestimate the degree of hatred that the Dutch people feel for Moroccan and Turkish immigrants. My political success is based upon the fact that I was prepared to listen to such people.” (p.64)
Overall, a very stimulating read that forces us to ask hard questions of ourselves.
June 12, 2016
Interesting rereading this. I'm able to appreciate how Buruma walks a very tricky line but I feel he's being a rather innocuous victim of his own crime. I'd like to write on this, need some more time to compose my thoughts.
April 29, 2022
Interessant journalistiek boek over de strijd van Theo Van Gogh, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Pim Fortuyn en het extreme islamisme. Het schetst een verontrustend beeld van de explosieve toestand van problemen rond integratie in Nederland.
Minpunt: bijwijlen is het te veel een lukrake opeenstapeling van interviewcitaten van elkaar tegensprekende figuren uit allerlei hoeken. Het thema wordt zo uitvoerig van alle kanten belicht en genuanceerd dat de problematiek soms schimmig wordt, ondergesneeuwd raakt onder de karrevracht van mekaar doodslaande argumenten.
Minpunt: bijwijlen is het te veel een lukrake opeenstapeling van interviewcitaten van elkaar tegensprekende figuren uit allerlei hoeken. Het thema wordt zo uitvoerig van alle kanten belicht en genuanceerd dat de problematiek soms schimmig wordt, ondergesneeuwd raakt onder de karrevracht van mekaar doodslaande argumenten.
September 9, 2025
I am planning to go to Amsterdam for my birthday and i wanted to read this book to get a better understanding of the culture and I'm so glad I did. I learned a lot about how the Holocaust memory is still so prevalent which was something I was not expecting. I also liked how the book was structured starting out with the assignation and then going into detail on the players. I realized the book is now 20 years old and dated in regards to current Dutch politics but I still highly recommend this quick read.
April 18, 2020
Een vurig bewonderaar van Buruma raadde me dit boek aan: het handelt over de moord op Theo van Gogh, snijdt ook de moord op Pim Fortuin aan en kijkt naar de omgeving waarin zulke geweldadigheden in Nederland konden plaatsvinden. De schrijver twijfelt een beetje tussen inventariseren en duiden, en daardoor komt het als betoog niet helemaal uit de verf. Ik ha een samenhangnede, meeslepende visie verwacht, gevolgd door een wijze aanbeveling en een empathisch nawoord, maar ik kreeg een niet onverdienstelijk opsommend opstel. De problematiek is misschien zo fundamenteel, heeft zo hard een vingerwijzing in de goede richting nodig, dat Buruma het nog een keer moet proberen, maar dan vanuit een samenhangend idee, van waar het heen moet.
Eerlijkheidshalve moet ik hierbij aangeven dat het exemplaar dat ik las vol stond met oranje strepen van een markeerstift, een techniek waar studenten uit de jaren tachtig van de vorige eeuw dachten snel de essentie van een tekst te kunnen vastleggen, maar die alleen maar een grote hoeveelheid papier richting onleesbaarheid heeft geduwd. Ergernis tijdens het lezen is niet bevordelijk voor de waardering, zo merkt de lezer die onwillekeurig wordt gestoord door oranje bewegwijzering op de pagina's.
Eerlijkheidshalve moet ik hierbij aangeven dat het exemplaar dat ik las vol stond met oranje strepen van een markeerstift, een techniek waar studenten uit de jaren tachtig van de vorige eeuw dachten snel de essentie van een tekst te kunnen vastleggen, maar die alleen maar een grote hoeveelheid papier richting onleesbaarheid heeft geduwd. Ergernis tijdens het lezen is niet bevordelijk voor de waardering, zo merkt de lezer die onwillekeurig wordt gestoord door oranje bewegwijzering op de pagina's.
June 15, 2014
My Son in Law purchased this book, while working for the UN in Den Haag.
I being Dutch Born, and leaving the Netherlands in the early 50.s I missed much of that part by of history. The Author Ian Buruma is Dutch born as well.
The story deals with the murder of Theo van Gogh, who is a great grand-son of Theo van Gogh, Vincent's very supportive Brother.
The Theo in the story has been a character from birth, being involved in T.V. interviewing persons of the day the controversial politician Pim Fortuyn , Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and other controversial characters during his life time. Theo was murdered by Mohammed Bouyeri, the story goes into the backgrounds of the characters which makes it an interesting book to read.
Coming from a rigid Calvinist family background I am always amazed that a country that is basically rigid yet has the capacity of tolerance, especially in view of the fact that today.s Dutch society is filled with persons from every part of the world.
I found the book very interesting, and well written and plan on looking fro other writing by its author Ian Buruma.
I being Dutch Born, and leaving the Netherlands in the early 50.s I missed much of that part by of history. The Author Ian Buruma is Dutch born as well.
The story deals with the murder of Theo van Gogh, who is a great grand-son of Theo van Gogh, Vincent's very supportive Brother.
The Theo in the story has been a character from birth, being involved in T.V. interviewing persons of the day the controversial politician Pim Fortuyn , Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and other controversial characters during his life time. Theo was murdered by Mohammed Bouyeri, the story goes into the backgrounds of the characters which makes it an interesting book to read.
Coming from a rigid Calvinist family background I am always amazed that a country that is basically rigid yet has the capacity of tolerance, especially in view of the fact that today.s Dutch society is filled with persons from every part of the world.
I found the book very interesting, and well written and plan on looking fro other writing by its author Ian Buruma.
April 1, 2021
It's a little shocking to me that the murder of Theo van Gogh was nearly 17 years ago: the world has moved on in many ways from the horrible days of van Gogh's murder and the London bombings, and yet the issues Buruma raises in this thoughtful foray into the mind of not only a murderer, but a country, are still coursing through the Western world.
Buruma - who is Dutch - returned to his homeland after the murder to try not only to discover why Mohammed Bouyeri shot and stabbed van Gogh, but also to see what had happened to The Netherlands, a country that was proud of its multiculturalism and peaceful ways.
In a series of vignettes, interviews, and history lessons, Buruma unpeels the way Dutch history and the traditions of Africa, the Middle East, and Islam came together to create not only van Gogh and Bouyeri, but also the "new" Netherlands that is so unlike the country in which Buruma spent his early years.
The perpetual plight of the immigrant is at the core of this book - a story of generations. The first generation of guest workers come without expectations, without experience, and in the case of many Moroccans in Holland, without literacy. Their expectations - of a better material life - were met. The second generation, who were born Dutch, did not have such a simple life. They were brought up to expect the benefits of citizenship, but that is denied them by the intrinsic and implicit racism and discrimination that occur even when the will is there to transcend such things. They are unable to tap into the underlying culture of the country, the "proper" way to behave, because they have no support from their parents to do so, as those parents are trapped in a limbo between their traditional life and the modern world into which they've moved.
This leads to many second-generation children of migrants to be cut adrift: unable to make the best of themselves, and unable in many ways to make sense of their situation, they are prey to any form of "stability" and "identity" that may come their way - some may choose gangs, some may choose Islamic fascism.
Buruma maps this history out carefully, noting the particular way it panned out in Holland, where a deep-seated guilt over the way the country behaved during World War Two meant that the political class were not only unwilling to face problems to do with religion or race, but also over-reacted when such issues did surface. Buruma writes of the peculiar Dutch Calvinistic attitude - a strident moralism - which in some ways mimics the strident moralism of the Islamic fascists. This Dutch moralism asserts itself vigorously when it comes to free speech, and angry free speech at that. Buruma quotes van Gogh and other Dutch commentators writing frankly vulgar smears, vulgar smears that were published in mainstream newspapers, vulgar smears that would not see the light of day in reputable publications in many other European countries, or other Western democracies.
This willingness to offend so brazenly was an understood part of the Dutch polity, an accepted way of behaving between members of the Dutch political and media class. It was a way of behaving that did not fit with the multicultural society that The Netherlands had become, as it did not take into account the way public discourse must change when society changes. Van Gogh was always a stirrer and from his earliest years loved to shock, but because of his sheltered upbringing did not understand that his activities may have unforeseen consequences.
Ayaan Hersi Ali (who wrote the film that van Gogh directed which lead to his death), although a migrant herself, willingly adopted not only the free speech, but also the anger that Buruma describes as a Dutch trait. Her target, the Islamic faith, was misguided although she spoke much truth when describing the way The Netherlands and other Western countries were allowing a cancer to grow inside them by allowing unfettered immigration and lack of education to create ghettos of marginalised people that were identifiable by their race, colour, or creed. She became a lightning rod for both "progressives", who tarred her with the Nazi brush (a common way of shooting down opponents in The Netherlands), and for traditional Muslims, who could not understand why she was including them within the groups of people that she said must change and throw away their whole lives and become darker copies of the white Dutch.
Buruma glides more lightly over the bewilderment and sense of loss of the older white Dutch, who have seen their country change in so many ways since the War. They, like the Moroccans, Turks and Surinamese, have not been educated about the change, and so too have become lost inside their own country. Unlike frontier societies such as the USA and Australia, there was no history in The Netherlands of new people or groups moving into their country and staking a place, and no willingness from the political powers to do much to assist that transition.
Which brings us to the Islamic fascism that drove Mohammed Bouyeri to murder. I do wonder whether Buruma takes this seriously enough in this book. I think when the West did start to take it seriously was when we started to win the war against it: when we engaged more with Muslim countries and worked together to show it as a flawed ideology that only led to suffering and death and had little to do with the Islam that the vast majority of people follow, it was the beginning of the end for the fascists.
Buruma sees Bouyeri's fundamentalism as more Dutch than Islamic: he quotes from Mohammad's speech at his trial to draw comparisons with what he had gleaned from his "study" with the Dutch Calvanistic tradition of moralism, and finds many similarities. Buruma also quotes other Dutch Muslims who laugh at Bouyeri's hotch-potch of beliefs, gained variously from ancient texts, bogus imams, and internet propaganda.
History since this book was written has shown that it is wiser to take much of what people like Bouyeri say at face value: they believe what they say, and what they say has the power to kill. Buruma has much to say on how young men (and women) like Bouyeri come to be in the position to be seduced by this rubbish, and much of what he says is food for thought for those in power in many Western countries: don't leave your guest workers or immigrants behind, don't let them fester in ghettos. If you are willing to allow them into your country, then you must be willing and able to integrate them into your culture. Which doesn't necessarily mean that they have to leave their old culture behind.
Buruma does have some rays of light in this book - immigrants who have made a success of themsleves despite the hardships, Muslims who can easily reconcile their religion with living in a Western democracy, and some Muslims who are working toward some sort of "enlightenment" within Islam, understanding that - at this point in history - it is only in the West that questioning of their faith can occur.
As with all of Buruma's writing Death in Amsterdam is both thoughtful and thought-provoking: even though a world of history seems to have gone by since the death of Theo van Gogh, there is still much in this book that is of interest.
Check out my other reviews at http://aviewoverthebell.blogspot.com.au/
Buruma - who is Dutch - returned to his homeland after the murder to try not only to discover why Mohammed Bouyeri shot and stabbed van Gogh, but also to see what had happened to The Netherlands, a country that was proud of its multiculturalism and peaceful ways.
In a series of vignettes, interviews, and history lessons, Buruma unpeels the way Dutch history and the traditions of Africa, the Middle East, and Islam came together to create not only van Gogh and Bouyeri, but also the "new" Netherlands that is so unlike the country in which Buruma spent his early years.
The perpetual plight of the immigrant is at the core of this book - a story of generations. The first generation of guest workers come without expectations, without experience, and in the case of many Moroccans in Holland, without literacy. Their expectations - of a better material life - were met. The second generation, who were born Dutch, did not have such a simple life. They were brought up to expect the benefits of citizenship, but that is denied them by the intrinsic and implicit racism and discrimination that occur even when the will is there to transcend such things. They are unable to tap into the underlying culture of the country, the "proper" way to behave, because they have no support from their parents to do so, as those parents are trapped in a limbo between their traditional life and the modern world into which they've moved.
This leads to many second-generation children of migrants to be cut adrift: unable to make the best of themselves, and unable in many ways to make sense of their situation, they are prey to any form of "stability" and "identity" that may come their way - some may choose gangs, some may choose Islamic fascism.
Buruma maps this history out carefully, noting the particular way it panned out in Holland, where a deep-seated guilt over the way the country behaved during World War Two meant that the political class were not only unwilling to face problems to do with religion or race, but also over-reacted when such issues did surface. Buruma writes of the peculiar Dutch Calvinistic attitude - a strident moralism - which in some ways mimics the strident moralism of the Islamic fascists. This Dutch moralism asserts itself vigorously when it comes to free speech, and angry free speech at that. Buruma quotes van Gogh and other Dutch commentators writing frankly vulgar smears, vulgar smears that were published in mainstream newspapers, vulgar smears that would not see the light of day in reputable publications in many other European countries, or other Western democracies.
This willingness to offend so brazenly was an understood part of the Dutch polity, an accepted way of behaving between members of the Dutch political and media class. It was a way of behaving that did not fit with the multicultural society that The Netherlands had become, as it did not take into account the way public discourse must change when society changes. Van Gogh was always a stirrer and from his earliest years loved to shock, but because of his sheltered upbringing did not understand that his activities may have unforeseen consequences.
Ayaan Hersi Ali (who wrote the film that van Gogh directed which lead to his death), although a migrant herself, willingly adopted not only the free speech, but also the anger that Buruma describes as a Dutch trait. Her target, the Islamic faith, was misguided although she spoke much truth when describing the way The Netherlands and other Western countries were allowing a cancer to grow inside them by allowing unfettered immigration and lack of education to create ghettos of marginalised people that were identifiable by their race, colour, or creed. She became a lightning rod for both "progressives", who tarred her with the Nazi brush (a common way of shooting down opponents in The Netherlands), and for traditional Muslims, who could not understand why she was including them within the groups of people that she said must change and throw away their whole lives and become darker copies of the white Dutch.
Buruma glides more lightly over the bewilderment and sense of loss of the older white Dutch, who have seen their country change in so many ways since the War. They, like the Moroccans, Turks and Surinamese, have not been educated about the change, and so too have become lost inside their own country. Unlike frontier societies such as the USA and Australia, there was no history in The Netherlands of new people or groups moving into their country and staking a place, and no willingness from the political powers to do much to assist that transition.
Which brings us to the Islamic fascism that drove Mohammed Bouyeri to murder. I do wonder whether Buruma takes this seriously enough in this book. I think when the West did start to take it seriously was when we started to win the war against it: when we engaged more with Muslim countries and worked together to show it as a flawed ideology that only led to suffering and death and had little to do with the Islam that the vast majority of people follow, it was the beginning of the end for the fascists.
Buruma sees Bouyeri's fundamentalism as more Dutch than Islamic: he quotes from Mohammad's speech at his trial to draw comparisons with what he had gleaned from his "study" with the Dutch Calvanistic tradition of moralism, and finds many similarities. Buruma also quotes other Dutch Muslims who laugh at Bouyeri's hotch-potch of beliefs, gained variously from ancient texts, bogus imams, and internet propaganda.
History since this book was written has shown that it is wiser to take much of what people like Bouyeri say at face value: they believe what they say, and what they say has the power to kill. Buruma has much to say on how young men (and women) like Bouyeri come to be in the position to be seduced by this rubbish, and much of what he says is food for thought for those in power in many Western countries: don't leave your guest workers or immigrants behind, don't let them fester in ghettos. If you are willing to allow them into your country, then you must be willing and able to integrate them into your culture. Which doesn't necessarily mean that they have to leave their old culture behind.
Buruma does have some rays of light in this book - immigrants who have made a success of themsleves despite the hardships, Muslims who can easily reconcile their religion with living in a Western democracy, and some Muslims who are working toward some sort of "enlightenment" within Islam, understanding that - at this point in history - it is only in the West that questioning of their faith can occur.
As with all of Buruma's writing Death in Amsterdam is both thoughtful and thought-provoking: even though a world of history seems to have gone by since the death of Theo van Gogh, there is still much in this book that is of interest.
Check out my other reviews at http://aviewoverthebell.blogspot.com.au/
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February 17, 2014A compelling bit of reportage on a sensational case. If you take the story at its face, it's really quite well done. Ian Buruma tells the story well, mostly leaving his own opinions out-- which I was rather disappointed by, he's an admirable scholar, and I'd be curious about his opinions. But he makes some good points when he is editorializing, namely that a tolerant society is by no means necessarily a non-racist society, that Islamism bears more in common with more classically "Western" schools of thought than it may seem at first glance, and that anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, and occidentalism share more commonalities than differences.
July 18, 2009
I read this book for my book club and 3 out of 4 of us could not get through it, including me. It was a bit preachy and all over the place. Very hard to follow and we just could not get into it.
October 18, 2017
Well-written but slightly fascistic book :)
September 7, 2024
Ostensibly a book about the murder of film maker Theo Van Gogh, but actually a deeply fascinating exploration of the ideas and tensions around multiculturalism in the Netherlands and Europe more generally. It's very fair. Unusually balanced you could say, for a book about an issue so politically charged. And weirdly addictive despite (or maybe because of) it's morbid subject matter. I understand the place where I live that bit better now.
February 21, 2021
An account of a murder in the centre of Amsterdam in the early 2000s. A great way of understanding the politcis of the Netherlands and multiculturalism there. Biased view having grown up in the Netherlands but it tackles sensitive and tricky topics with an open mind, leaving you with a thorough understanding of tolerance on the Netherlands
April 17, 2017
The author writes of the murder of Theo Van Gogh a controversial filmmaker, personality in Amsterdam. Theo Van Gogh angered a lot of people, by his remarks and the making of the film Submission with Ayaan Hirsi Ali which would be his downfall. The author writes how the murder has affected the politics and everyday life of people living in Amsterdam.
July 24, 2017
I thought this book would add clarity to why young Muslims have trouble integrating into their adopted European or North American communities and maybe learn about some solutions. I learned a lot more about the problem, but not much on the solutions. Also learned quite a bit about Dutch culture. Also, Theo was an ass.
November 16, 2023
It’s well-written but I struggled to understand it and it wasn’t all that interesting to me. I read it for school so 🤷🏻♀️
objectively a good book but I didn’t enjoy it, per se
not super clean, would not recommend unless you’re older. Depends on the person ig. I was uncomfortable at times but I think I tend to be more sensitive than the average reader
objectively a good book but I didn’t enjoy it, per se
not super clean, would not recommend unless you’re older. Depends on the person ig. I was uncomfortable at times but I think I tend to be more sensitive than the average reader
January 30, 2011
Ian Buruma gives us a fascinating rumination on the context, conflicts and potential causes of the murder of Muslim-critic, filmmaker Theo Van Gogh in 2004 Amsterdam.
First, I must thank my son, Patrick, for giving me this book for Christmas. Not only did this gift recognize my love for books, but also tapped into my preferred blend of philosophy, morality and suspense. But unlike my usual mix of Stuart Woods and Michael Connelly, this nonfiction account of the cultural stew on post-911 northern Europe actually is more consonant with my recently reviewed “Moral Landscape.”
The crux of the dilemma confronting the liberal governments of Europe is, most likely, a precursor to the cultural conflicts we will face in the United States, with our growing Muslim population, if we fail to find a course that reconciles the clash between the secular and “God’s laws.” It is ironic, yet no less telling, that the crucible for this debate in Europe is the Netherlands, liberal home of Spinoza and others of the Enightenment who first sowed the seed of separation between Church and State. The church, to be kept separate, then was Christian – be it Catholic or Calvinistic – today it is Islam. Of further caution, is that in the US, unlike the adamantly secular societies of post-War Europe, we have seen the resurgence of God in State. Will that make it harder for us to parse the line between the majority god and the growing minority god and thus the inherent clash of civilizations?
America needs to figure out this puzzle, not only to rescue our foreign policy, but to also preserve our unique freedoms as a country. For if we recreate the naïve mistake the US government made in supporting the Taliban against the Soviet Union in traditional geopolitical gamesmanship, only to see the true believers bite back and destroy the Twin Towers, we run the risk of loosing much more than our innocence this time around.
Buruma gives us some comfort in a conversation with the Dutch Historian, Geert Mak, when Mak insists: “the problem is not Islam, or religion as such. It is more sociological. What we are witnessing is nothing new. Just the usual tensions that occur when uprooted rural people start new lives in the metropolis.”
This comfort, though, fails the test of Buruma’s earlier exploration of the disaffected generation of Muslim immigrants. There is something different about their alienation than the familiar “country mouse” rite of passage in the city describe by Mak. For example, Theo Van Gogh’s killer, like many of the terrorists before, was well educated with social connections. In the past, successive generations used to climb the ladder of assimilation (think the Irish in New York or Boston or Chicago), but in the Netherlands, the second and third generation show deeper psychosis than their parents. Where their parents were depressed (dealing with the maze of the city), the children are schizophrenic. “A young Moroccan male of the second generation is ten times more likely to be schizophrenic than a native Dutchman from a similar economic background (emphasis added).” This points to something more than complexity of the new society; it has more to do with the adaptation of a strictly regulated society to a freer, more open one. Just the traditional cultural strictures on Muslim women, make for a profound cultural clash.
This cogitative dissonance – well beyond adjusting to the pace of a urban life – often times creates a desire for strict religious rules as a form of nostalgia. This is true, even when you weren’t raised under those rules. To remain sane, these successive generations long for the security of a paradise lost. Here, the “stabilizing factor” might in fact be religion -- as a bulwark to stand between the cacophony of choice and the extremism of certainty.
First, I must thank my son, Patrick, for giving me this book for Christmas. Not only did this gift recognize my love for books, but also tapped into my preferred blend of philosophy, morality and suspense. But unlike my usual mix of Stuart Woods and Michael Connelly, this nonfiction account of the cultural stew on post-911 northern Europe actually is more consonant with my recently reviewed “Moral Landscape.”
The crux of the dilemma confronting the liberal governments of Europe is, most likely, a precursor to the cultural conflicts we will face in the United States, with our growing Muslim population, if we fail to find a course that reconciles the clash between the secular and “God’s laws.” It is ironic, yet no less telling, that the crucible for this debate in Europe is the Netherlands, liberal home of Spinoza and others of the Enightenment who first sowed the seed of separation between Church and State. The church, to be kept separate, then was Christian – be it Catholic or Calvinistic – today it is Islam. Of further caution, is that in the US, unlike the adamantly secular societies of post-War Europe, we have seen the resurgence of God in State. Will that make it harder for us to parse the line between the majority god and the growing minority god and thus the inherent clash of civilizations?
America needs to figure out this puzzle, not only to rescue our foreign policy, but to also preserve our unique freedoms as a country. For if we recreate the naïve mistake the US government made in supporting the Taliban against the Soviet Union in traditional geopolitical gamesmanship, only to see the true believers bite back and destroy the Twin Towers, we run the risk of loosing much more than our innocence this time around.
Buruma gives us some comfort in a conversation with the Dutch Historian, Geert Mak, when Mak insists: “the problem is not Islam, or religion as such. It is more sociological. What we are witnessing is nothing new. Just the usual tensions that occur when uprooted rural people start new lives in the metropolis.”
This comfort, though, fails the test of Buruma’s earlier exploration of the disaffected generation of Muslim immigrants. There is something different about their alienation than the familiar “country mouse” rite of passage in the city describe by Mak. For example, Theo Van Gogh’s killer, like many of the terrorists before, was well educated with social connections. In the past, successive generations used to climb the ladder of assimilation (think the Irish in New York or Boston or Chicago), but in the Netherlands, the second and third generation show deeper psychosis than their parents. Where their parents were depressed (dealing with the maze of the city), the children are schizophrenic. “A young Moroccan male of the second generation is ten times more likely to be schizophrenic than a native Dutchman from a similar economic background (emphasis added).” This points to something more than complexity of the new society; it has more to do with the adaptation of a strictly regulated society to a freer, more open one. Just the traditional cultural strictures on Muslim women, make for a profound cultural clash.
This cogitative dissonance – well beyond adjusting to the pace of a urban life – often times creates a desire for strict religious rules as a form of nostalgia. This is true, even when you weren’t raised under those rules. To remain sane, these successive generations long for the security of a paradise lost. Here, the “stabilizing factor” might in fact be religion -- as a bulwark to stand between the cacophony of choice and the extremism of certainty.
December 28, 2008
In 2004, Theo van Gogh (great great something or other of Vincent), filmmaker and professional polemicist was murdered by an Islamic fundamentalist. This book is partly about him – about what led to his death and what came after – but it’s mostly about the Netherlands as a microcosm of the intellectual and political friction of European ideals and Islamic fundamentalism. The book profiles notable Muslim critics – the racists, the atheists, the culturalists, the feminists. Van Gogh rates the title, but for my money this is mostly a book about Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and the broader intellectual context for the tensions arising as Muslim immigrants continue arriving in Europe.
A brilliant book, and nothing short of riveting. It made me angry; it made my head ache; it exhausted me; it frustrated me. There’s so much perspicacity packed into this slim volume. Buruma spends most of it recounting significant social movements with pithy accuracy, and the rest casting an unflinching eye over scholars, politicians, critics, activists, fundamentalists, and bystanders. He talks about immigration, he talks about religion, he talks about violence, he talks about activism, he talks about culture and multiculturalism and the pushback and racism. He is deliberate and lightly mocking throughout, and absolutely no one is spared.
He does have a tendency to treat minority groups as one uniform body, but even this is done with deliberate irony. It’s only appropriate, after all, when characterizing how Turkish and Moroccan immigrants are differently perceived. No, my real problem with this book was Theo van Gogh. Van Gogh was, well. How do I put this delicately? I hated him. He firmly believed that it’s impossible for the children of the Enlightenment to live in peace with Islamic fundamentalists, but more importantly the way he expressed that opinion was nothing short of loathsome. Buruma does his best in showing that Van Gogh was a more general dissident than a specifically offensive one, and to place him in the context of the rhetoric of abusive criticism (it’s an honest-to-God thing, really), but for once he seems to have missed the essential point. Van Gogh once said of a Jewish critic who had come to the defense of a friend he’d attacked that she, “has wet dreams of being fucked by Dr. Mengele.” That’s one of the more mild comments. Buruma comes right out and says that Van Gogh was not a racist, but I’m sorry, propounding hate speech makes you complicit in hate. Full stop.
Anyway. I’m getting sidetracked. That’s one wobble of perception in a book otherwise painfully clear-sighted, fearlessly willing to face complication head-on. It didn’t quite address the question of criticism in the way I was anticipating – someone, somewhere has written an intelligent, insightful piece on the seemingly inextricable knot of racism and anti-multiculturalism/cultural criticism, and the problem of how cultural insiders and outsiders can collaborate in criticism. This is not that book, but that’s okay because the book it is will be lingering with me for a long, long time.
A brilliant book, and nothing short of riveting. It made me angry; it made my head ache; it exhausted me; it frustrated me. There’s so much perspicacity packed into this slim volume. Buruma spends most of it recounting significant social movements with pithy accuracy, and the rest casting an unflinching eye over scholars, politicians, critics, activists, fundamentalists, and bystanders. He talks about immigration, he talks about religion, he talks about violence, he talks about activism, he talks about culture and multiculturalism and the pushback and racism. He is deliberate and lightly mocking throughout, and absolutely no one is spared.
He does have a tendency to treat minority groups as one uniform body, but even this is done with deliberate irony. It’s only appropriate, after all, when characterizing how Turkish and Moroccan immigrants are differently perceived. No, my real problem with this book was Theo van Gogh. Van Gogh was, well. How do I put this delicately? I hated him. He firmly believed that it’s impossible for the children of the Enlightenment to live in peace with Islamic fundamentalists, but more importantly the way he expressed that opinion was nothing short of loathsome. Buruma does his best in showing that Van Gogh was a more general dissident than a specifically offensive one, and to place him in the context of the rhetoric of abusive criticism (it’s an honest-to-God thing, really), but for once he seems to have missed the essential point. Van Gogh once said of a Jewish critic who had come to the defense of a friend he’d attacked that she, “has wet dreams of being fucked by Dr. Mengele.” That’s one of the more mild comments. Buruma comes right out and says that Van Gogh was not a racist, but I’m sorry, propounding hate speech makes you complicit in hate. Full stop.
Anyway. I’m getting sidetracked. That’s one wobble of perception in a book otherwise painfully clear-sighted, fearlessly willing to face complication head-on. It didn’t quite address the question of criticism in the way I was anticipating – someone, somewhere has written an intelligent, insightful piece on the seemingly inextricable knot of racism and anti-multiculturalism/cultural criticism, and the problem of how cultural insiders and outsiders can collaborate in criticism. This is not that book, but that’s okay because the book it is will be lingering with me for a long, long time.
July 22, 2009
This book is mainly about the murder of Theo Van Gogh, its implications towards the tolerance and freedom in Holland and also a few dimensions of the heated conflicts between Islamic values brought by the Muslim Immigrants with the Dutch (Western) ones.
Islam Vs the West is not a new topic for me. I am quite familiar (or rather bored) with each other's claims and accusations. The author wrote it as it is, verbatim quoting harsh words from each side. Not so open-minded readers (from either side) might be offended or taking sides too early on the debate presented. I am trying to read this story in its context, trying to empathize on how those people come to say or behave the way they do.
I also learn from the book about the problems of integration. I have experienced how complex it is (or feels) to integrate in a new society totally different from your origin. I have seen many complications towards individuals dealing with the issues, both from the immigrants and the host people. Taking from my experience and stories in this book, I am tempted to say that it is you who are in charge on how you want to perceive yourself in the new situation. But the "you" here varies greatly and influenced by many factors which may result in extreme cases like Mohamed Bouyeri and Ayaan Hirsi Ali, or even Theo Van Gogh himself being the host people.
Bouyeri, the murderer, showed the same symptoms as, for example, Imam Samudra (the Bali bomber) in his attitudes and utterance. Both did not regret their action and did not submit to the law against which they were being tried. Both said given the circumstances they would do the same thing all over again. Bouyeri believed that the knights of Islam will come from the Netherlands! I would suppose that Imam Samudra would also think that the revival of the Islamic Caliphate would begin in Indonesia (at least I remember this rhetoric being preached when I was in high school). The last point shows that no matter how much global your claim is, local factors (Bouyeri's childhood is in the Netherlands) have some say too. Having read Imam Samudra's handwritten memoir, I also doubt his comprehensive understanding about the West whom he hated so much.
The book ends without conclusion after portraying the murder, Theo, Mohammed B, and several figures related to the issue such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Fortuyn, Job Cohen, etc. The portrayal is sharp, although may not complete. It shows the edges that collides between the two sides. Maybe it is just the way it is, the discourse about "Muslim in the West" or "Islam versus the West" is still to be continued.
One thing to note, many references to Indonesia, Dutch colonial era, Moluccas rebels are made when discussing about immigrants and Dutch history. The Dutch apparently refer to the colonial era (Dutch East Indies) as their Golden Era. Hmmm...
Islam Vs the West is not a new topic for me. I am quite familiar (or rather bored) with each other's claims and accusations. The author wrote it as it is, verbatim quoting harsh words from each side. Not so open-minded readers (from either side) might be offended or taking sides too early on the debate presented. I am trying to read this story in its context, trying to empathize on how those people come to say or behave the way they do.
I also learn from the book about the problems of integration. I have experienced how complex it is (or feels) to integrate in a new society totally different from your origin. I have seen many complications towards individuals dealing with the issues, both from the immigrants and the host people. Taking from my experience and stories in this book, I am tempted to say that it is you who are in charge on how you want to perceive yourself in the new situation. But the "you" here varies greatly and influenced by many factors which may result in extreme cases like Mohamed Bouyeri and Ayaan Hirsi Ali, or even Theo Van Gogh himself being the host people.
Bouyeri, the murderer, showed the same symptoms as, for example, Imam Samudra (the Bali bomber) in his attitudes and utterance. Both did not regret their action and did not submit to the law against which they were being tried. Both said given the circumstances they would do the same thing all over again. Bouyeri believed that the knights of Islam will come from the Netherlands! I would suppose that Imam Samudra would also think that the revival of the Islamic Caliphate would begin in Indonesia (at least I remember this rhetoric being preached when I was in high school). The last point shows that no matter how much global your claim is, local factors (Bouyeri's childhood is in the Netherlands) have some say too. Having read Imam Samudra's handwritten memoir, I also doubt his comprehensive understanding about the West whom he hated so much.
The book ends without conclusion after portraying the murder, Theo, Mohammed B, and several figures related to the issue such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Fortuyn, Job Cohen, etc. The portrayal is sharp, although may not complete. It shows the edges that collides between the two sides. Maybe it is just the way it is, the discourse about "Muslim in the West" or "Islam versus the West" is still to be continued.
One thing to note, many references to Indonesia, Dutch colonial era, Moluccas rebels are made when discussing about immigrants and Dutch history. The Dutch apparently refer to the colonial era (Dutch East Indies) as their Golden Era. Hmmm...
October 22, 2023
Sin desperdicio. Y más vigente que nunca.
January 7, 2010
The author interviews a bunch of his activist/journalist friends about the social problems with immigration, multiculturalism and "political Islam" in the Netherlands and Europe writ large. It's actually a book about liberalism and the arguments for or against. Parts of it were fascinating to me, but I felt like I was slogging thru much of the book. It just doesn't flow very well or something. It's very anecdotal with not much extra guidance beyond the absolute basics, so you can't always guage the reliability of some of these people. And admittedly, some of it was a review of stuff I read in grad school. The most disappointing part of the book is that he spends such a long time building up the arguments for, against, and everything in between vis-a-vis European iberalism/tolerance; you get to the last few pages and there's no real conclusion. No grand finale. He praises Van Gogh et. al for having strong convictions, and then he himself appears at the finale to have succombed to the same fear and knee-jerk political correctness he complained of throughout. I wish he would have drawn some conclusions, even if they were ambivalent, or at least stated what he believed. But it does make you think and question what you know, and I like that in a book.
May 19, 2016
As a detailed account for the terrorist attacks that the Netherlands faced in the murders of Pim Fortuyn and Theo van Gogh, Buruma offers a compelling explanation as to why young Muslims (especially men) flock to Islam extremism. He points to the failure of multiculturalism at the root of Theo van Gogh's murder, fueled by the xenophobic remarks made by Fortuyn. The book calls into question the conflict between secularism and Islam, a conflict that is igniting turmoil across European modern cities (Paris, London, etc). I thought the book was at its strongest in its psychological analysis of Mohammed Bouyeri, the man who murdered Theo van Gogh. I was given insight on why and how Islamic extremists groups form and why a young immigrant Muslim man, whose host country failed to provide him with rich opportunities, would revert back to fundamentalism. His perspective is questionable as although he is Dutch, he hasn't lived in the Netherlands since the 1970's. For anyone looking to understand the problems Europe is facing with xenophobia and Muslim immigrants, this is a good read. It was also a fast read as Buruma is a fantastic writer.
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