Nieuw Amsterdam in New York

For a Dutch visitor, the signs of the old bond between New York and the Netherlands are obvious and many. Downtown has a Broad Street (Bree[d]straat) - the same name as a typical Dutch town's Main Street. Outside the old city walls (Wall Street), there is the Broad Way (Breede Weg): a naming convention that is mirrored in the Dutch West India Company's other former outpost at Curaçao, in the Carribbean. There's the Bowery (De Bouwerij - The Farm), Gramercy (Krom Messie - Little Crooked Knife [Brook]), Greenwich (Greenewijk - Pine Town). New York was Nieuw Amsterdam, but the Dutch settlers appear to have begun to consciously recreate their entire homeland: Brooklyn (Breukelen), Harlem (Haarlem), and Beverwijk (renamed Albany) are all towns close to the original Amsterdam in Holland. The Dutch Republic's parliament was commemorated at Staten Island (Staten Eiland), but other place names were given new, often perhaps unimaginative names like Long Island ('t Lange Eiland) or Rhode Island (Rood Eiland - Red Island).

Such signs may be mere curiosities for the average American tourist or any other foreign visitor to New York, except the Dutch one. These signs open up the door to the past and questions of the past can easily lead to questions of identity and nationhood. The past has often proven to be an excellent fighting ground for present-day conflicts and the Dutch past of New York is no exception.

Only last year did the Netherlands and the city of New York celebrate the fact that 400 years earlier Henry Hudson first sailed up what came to be called the Hudson river. The town of New Amsterdam (New York) was not founded until much later - perhaps such a date would have been a more obvious occasion to celebrate the bond between the US and the Netherlands. The celebration happened last year because it was needed, perhaps more in the Netherlands than in America because of the political upheaval caused by the emergence of a new populist right-wing movement, two of whose leaders were brutally murdered in recent years. A lot of these celebrations and their accompanying texts praised the international, multi-ethnic and tolerant character of Amsterdam and New York, as if to ward off the spirit of xenophobia associated with this movement.

Last Saturday, at the commemoration of the catastrophe of September 11, 2001, the same spirit of tolerance was once again invoked but by this time by the new voice in Dutch politics: Geert Wilders, currently the leader of the aforementioned populist movement, speeched at a protest rally, demonstrating against the Cordoba Community House-project, the so-called 'Ground Zero Mosque'. He said:

New York stands for freedom, openness and tolerance. New York’s Mayor recently said that New York is “rooted in Dutch tolerance.”

Wilders then went on to contrast this tolerance with Islam's supposed intolerance, contrasting New York with Mecca, and repeating Mayor Bloomberg's quote.

The point I would like to make here, however, is that both sides in this debate display an immense pride in the role the Dutch have played in the founding of this city and try to use it in their own agendas. Perhaps there is something of a 'lost empire' syndrome at work here - the idea that all this could have been 'ours'. A certain pride that this Dutchman will readily admit he is not unsusceptible to. The fact that many old New Yorkers also seem to take immense pride in their city's Dutch heritage only compounds the issue. Moreover, it is easy and fun to speculate on the possible Dutch origins of this or that institution, place name, etc. What matters in the end is: what do you do with this knowledge?

blasé blasé blah

Imagine walking mile after mile, never seeing a single indication of human life. After hours or even days of walking, a sign appears on the horizon. Would one's attention not be irresistibly drawn towards it? After such an absence of humanity, this lone artifact would seem incredibly significant. But by itself and without context, we cannot imagine what its meaning might be. It is significant to us only as a mystery.

But what happens when our solitary observer and sign are joined by others? Add to our scene buildings and crossroads. Populate the buildings with both people and our various animal companions. Our lone figure is no longer alone. Our senses reel from the onslaught of impressions. Nostrils are stimulated by car exhaust, restaurants, and garbage. Distant jackhammering competes with motor traffic and the ambient buzz. Alter egos come into view, each of whom is moving through their own quotidian routes and looking through their own eyes. Does such a place sound familiar?

What of our first, lonely sign? Where has it gone in the glut that we are surrounded by? Do we think of it differently than when it stood alone? I think we must. The lone sign has simultaneously become less important while becoming enriched by its myriad associations with other objects - those same objects that diminish its relative importance to the observer.

Living in an environment such as New York makes me wonder how being surrounded by uncountable signs shapes the way we live. How does the metropolitan excess of people and things both change perceptions of our surroundings and our relationships with one another?

Simmel describes for us the metropolitan type. Surrounded by the relentless sensory onslaught living in the city brings, the metropolitan forms a sort of 'protective organ' around itself. The city as the center of the money economy works in concert with what he calls an 'intellectualistic' mindset. This mindset treats people and things as interchangable, quantifiable entities. Whereas emotional relationships depend on the individuality of the actors involved, the metropolitan cannot connect emotionally with everyone they must interact with. Becoming indifferent to the distinctions between things, the metropolitan adapts what Simmel calls a blasé attitude.

Don for a moment the blasé attitude and remember our lone sign. Blasé eyes can see the rich connections between the sign and its context. But these rich connections no longer matter. Whereas thought on the lone sign ended futilely in mystery, contemplation of the sign-in-context might not even begin because of blasé disregard. The metropole shuts out the cacophony of the multitude by adopting the pose of reserve and dulling sensitivity to distinctions.

All of this leads us back to a very old problem. If we are not satisfied with either the poverty of the lone sign or the incomprehensibility of the totality of signs, what if any alternative is there to the grayness of the blasé outlook?

Neil Silberman posted this recently, just had to share it.

Welcome back!

The end of August means that everyone is slowly drifting back into town, ready for classes to start next week. As well as the recommended classes for the major listed on the Center for Archaeology website, there is a new class on offer 'Ancient Egyptian Civilization' taught by Emily O'Dell.

The Center will host a welcome event in the first weeks of September - keep an eye on the Center website for details of time and place.

Madagascar 2010

Salamo,

Well, here we are in Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar getting ready for 2 weeks in the Vakinankaratra. It's been 5 years since we were here, and superficially little seems to have changed. However, as friends and colleagues keep reminding us, Madagascar is now governed by "pirates" since last year's coup. The new president (a "DJ" who likes the nightclubbing lifestyle apparently) has certainly made some cosmestic changes (the nightclubs are well upgraded), and the park in the lower town now has swings, big wheel, fairground rides and a Batman bouncy castle/batcave. And the Queen's Palace (19th century, burnt down 1995) now has a roof again (see picture, and note the Hollywood-style city signage on the hillface).

That said, there are a number of more "adult" developments. Asian massage joints and karaoke bars have appeared to cater for the growing number of (largely French) sex tourism types. There is a massive red ribbon HIV monument on one of the roads out of town, as if anyone takes any notice...

Anyway, tomorrow we head into "the field" for a couple of weeks to survey and excavate (small-scale) at some serious hilltop ditched sites (historical periods, 16th-19th century hillfort-type sites), and 19th century standing stones (watch out for the those inevitable European Neolithic comparisons, folks....).

I'll post more when we get back.

bb