Leeuwarden, European Capital of Exiled Governments

Hans Faber
Oct 7, 2017
8 min read

Updated: Sep 13

In both Germany and the Netherlands, many Frisians have watched with unease as waves of referenda and separatist movements have swept across Europe and beyond in recent years—Quebec, Scotland, Kurdistan, Catalonia, Padania, and Ambazonia, to name only a few. At the same time, entire peoples such as the Yazidis and the Rohingya have been driven from their homelands. Against this backdrop, the city of Leeuwarden in the province of Friesland prepared to serve as the European Capital of Culture next year, in 2018. It was a striking moment: a town representing one of Europe’s indigenous minorities placed at the symbolic cultural heart of the continent. Would the Frisians feel compelled to take a stand on the worldwide calls for self-determination? Might they even be expected to serve as a capital for governments in exile?

The Frisian temperament is to hold on to the status quo and deny that the world has changed. Even when parts of their land were washed away in great floods, leaving only a few islands behind, they continued to call the seabed “land.” Yes, they wear blinkers. The same attitude applies to the arrangements reached with the central governments in both Germany and the Netherlands. An influx of exiled governments or officials into the Frisian regions would put that balance at risk. Of course, efforts to secure greater equality with the central authorities continue, but their conflict-avoiding mindset often boils down to: "it could have been much worse."

The decision of the Frisian pelotte club Moed en Volharding ('courage and persistence') from the hamlet of Dongjum to withdraw from the Koninklijke Nederlandse Kaatsbond ('royal Dutch pelotte federation') after a conflict in October 2017 has already stirred tensions in the province of Friesland. It is straining the nerves of many Frisians to the limit. They fear that the Dongjum pelotte incident could set a precedent and ultimately threaten the fragile status quo with the central government. Indeed, the Frisians have, if anything, an even greater sense of drama than their English cousins.

Catalan referendum of October 2017

Therefore, the Frisians were greatly relieved when the Landtag of Schleswig-Holstein (responsible for the region of Nordfriesland), the Landtag of Niedersachsen (responsible for the region of Ostfriesland), and the Provinciale Staten of the province of Friesland did exactly that: they made no statements on the Catalan referendum or the turmoil in Spain, and remained silent. At first, people in the Frisian lands were also satisfied with the European Commission’s restraint in avoiding a public stance. But that calm did not last. We will return to this further below.

If you are fortunate enough to draw an opinion from a Frisian on the matter at all (see our advice in our blog post Grassland Conversation. Where Less Is More on how to converse with Frisians in the wild), they will most likely question the rigidly legalistic stance taken by Madrid, Spain’s capital. To them, it is unhelpful simply to restate the obvious—what is lawful and what is unlawful. People already know that, and that is precisely the problem. Nor does it help to dismiss a regional government as incompetent in matters of self-determination. And it helps even less when a Castilian king employs the same stern language. Such words inevitably remind Frisians of the sixteenth-century Plakkaat van Verlatinghe ('act of abjuration'), the declaration by the provinces of the Low Countries that they were choosing independence—and separation—from the Spanish king. Indeed, it was the very same Spanish crown that now, in equally forceful tones, addresses Catalonia.

This legalistic approach, together with the firm language directed at the separatists, does little to foster dialogue or to open the way toward the creative and, above all, courageous political solutions that are so badly needed. The statement (see note further below) by the European Commission’s First Vice-President, Frans Timmermans, offered no perspectives beyond those just mentioned. He too underlined the unlawfulness of the situation, emphasizing what was already blatantly obvious. And this, perhaps, is what the Frisians might whisper:

Can voting itself be unlawful? Should, in a democracy, the act of creation of opinion, not be free by definition?

The images of heavy-handed behaviour by the Spanish police, widely circulated online and in the media, have not helped either—at least in the eyes of many Frisians—even if the exact number of injured people was subject to much statistical juggling. It should be noted, however, that unlike Frans Timmermans, the Secretary General of the Council of Europe, Thorbjørn Jagland, whose role is to safeguard the rule of law in Europe, did voice his concern.

Former leaders of the Frisian Movement—Johann Carl Gittermann from the region of Ostfriesland, Christian Feddersen and Harro Harring from the region of Nordfriesland, and Fedde Schurer from the province of Friesland—would surely be turning in their graves if they could hear of it. The net effect, however, has likely been to push even more Catalan citizens into the 'yes' camp for independence.

Kneppelfreed

Kneppelfreed inescapably comes to mind of Frisians living in the province of Friesland. This incident in the province of Friesland happened in 1951.

Judge Wolters in the town of Heerenveen forbade the use of the Frisian language in his court during a particular case. This prompted journalist Fedde Schurer to publish his famous article De laatste man van de zwarte hoop? ('The Last Man of the Black Heap?') in October 1951. In it, Schurer compared Judge Wolters to the Saxon bandits De Zwarte Hoop, who had ransacked the province of Friesland on behalf of the province of Holland in the early sixteenth century. Schurer was charged by the prosecutor and required to appear for trial on Friday, November 16 of the same year. People began protesting in front of the court in Leeuwarden, at Zaailand Square. The demonstration was met with a harsh police crackdown, including the use of batons. Consequently, this day is remembered as Kneppelfreed ('baton Friday'), but it is also known as the Battle of Zaailand.

The Black Heap — The Black Heap was a Habsburg mercenary army that fought in the province of Friesland at the beginning of the sixteenth century. It was paid by the States of Holland. For centuries, the states of Friesland and Holland had been at war. In this context, Fedde Schurer effectively compared the judge to an instrument of foreign domination.

By the way, as counter reaction to the Black Heap's atrocities, the Frisian farmer Pier Donia, alias Greate Pier, founded his own Black Heap of Arum. This alternative Black Heap became a big army and, in turn, committed countless cruelties as well.

The Habsburg Black Heap ultimately proved to be a boomerang, sacking the thriving town of Alkmaar in the province of Holland in 1515. As the philosopher and humanist Erasmus famously remarked, “this band had been fighting for us against the Frisians only recently!”

To Erasmus: C’est la guerre! — that is war for you.

The entire Kneppelfreed incident gave rise to what became known as the 'Frisian Issue.' Three ministers, dressed to the nines, descended from their offices in stylish The Hague to discuss the matter on the ground in the poor periphery. Listening to the people and to pay working visits is something politicians tend to do after an incident, not before. Of course, important and earnest committees were established as well. Gradually, albeit slowly and hesitantly, the central government’s approach to the rights of the Frisian minority—including the use of its language—began to change. Today, Frisians can use their language in court proceedings and in dealings with local administrations. Since 2017, the Frisian language may also be used in communications with the tax authorities.

The sudden oath in the Mid Frisian language taken by a Member of Parliament during the inauguration of the new King of the Netherlands in 2013 caused a small stir. Strictly speaking, it was legally irregular, but it did not spark any heated public debate. At least the new king did not use the kind of stern language his counterpart in Madrid employs. In fact, he did not comment on the matter at all. Who knows—perhaps he even appreciated it, since one of his ancestors once called himself a Frisian. For more on this, see the blog post A Dutch King Once Yelled: “Je suis Frison, et je suis plus têtu que vous!”

So, with Catalonia in the back of our minds, the use of the Frisian language in court was formally unlawful in 1951—but it was also clearly unjust. Today, the use of Frisian has become both lawful and accepted. What failed back then in the Netherlands was approaching the issue purely from a strict legal perspective. Enforcing the law with batons proved equally ineffective. What was needed, instead, were courageous political solutions. What was needed was an ethical dialogue.

Perhaps the greatest achievement of a democracy is that the majority allows minorities within its territory the unrestricted freedom to secede—yet, because of mutual engagement and shared interests, minorities feel the need to exercise that freedom. This highlights the tension between the rigid statement of the former First Vice-President Timmermans and the reality of a democratic European Union, rich in minorities. Promoting the rights and cultures of minorities in Europe is therefore essential. It is no coincidence that the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages was signed in 1992.

Nevertheless, as late as 2016 and 2023, the Council of Europe still had to criticize the Dutch government for the deterioration of Frisian language rights. Some Frisians quietly suggest that they would like to see the European Commission make a statement on these matters as well—delivered with the same firmness as its position on the Catalan referendum. After all, if you say A, you cannot avoid saying B.

The town of Leeuwarden found itself grappling with all of this. Above all, the celebrations could not descend into chaos. The event—Leeuwarden-Fryslân 2018 (LF2018), as European Capital of Culture—had to be a joyful occasion. And, indeed, it was. Its motto had been chosen thoughtfully and wisely, long before the turmoil erupted on the Costa Brava. The motto of LF2018 was:

Strength by opposites. To be one single open community. More idealistic, more diverse and more powerful. Revolution Frisian Style.

Note 1 – The president of Catalonia, Carles Puigdemont, had to flee from Spain in 2017, and tried to find asylum somewhere in Europe. The king of Spain and all authorities that are loyal to him, are still trying to prosecute Puigdemont for declaring independence of Catalonia on 27 October 2017, on the charges of rebellion, among others. He fled to Belgium, Germany, and Sardinia, Italy.

Note 2 — Politician Frans Timmermans considered the Catalan referendum as unlawful, and the violence used by the police to crack down the protests, as proportional force needed to defend the rule of law, to defend the legal state. Furthermore, the whole issue was a matter of internal politics and no business for the European Union, according to Timmermans. And here we were, thinking the Union was a community built on values. The Plakkaat in reverse.

In our blog post Well, the Thing is... we have made 5 recommendations have the institutions of Western democracies can be strengthened.