Nazis, Violence and the State: Social Democratic Repertoire Discussions in Germany and the Netherlands Around 1930

Bombastic party rallies, uniformed marches, the excessive use of flags, songs, and symbols were with increasing success used by both National Socialist and Communist movements around 1930. It is surprising when measured by present-day standards, that contemporary observers did not consider these political forms and methods to be repulsive or at least peculiar, and that Catholics, Social Democrats, and Liberals adopted them for their own public appearances. In addition, representatives of these latter democratic-minded political movements even seriously discussed the use of violence as a necessary or appropriate form of political action and its compatibility with the principles of democracy.

In the interwar period, democracy must be understood as an ‘essentially contested concept’. ¹ It was not new as an ideal, but Social Democrats, Liberals, and Catholics had very differing views on how a representative government system should function, and what the attribute ‘democratic’ was supposed to signify. The challenge to the democratic system by extremist parties and movements complicated matters: for example, was it ‘undemocratic’ to ban such parties or to restrict their repertoire of action in public? ² In the 1930s, a majority of democratic-minded political movements accepted the dominant paradigm of ‘disciplined democracy’ as an answer to the perceived ‘crisis’ of the democratic system. According to this paradigm, the executive power was entitled to restrict civil rights and the actions of political movements in the public space, in order to maintain order and state authority, even at the expense of democratic parties. ³

The focus of this chapter concerns the reaction by Social Democratic parties and civil society associations in Germany and the Netherlands to the rise of Fascism and National Socialism. Social Democrats did contribute to the design of state policies in several federal states in Weimar Germany and participate in debates over the proper reaction of the democratic institutions to the challenges posed by these adversaries of democracy. Events in Germany in 1932 and 1933, however, gave them reason to suspect that state power was either unwilling or unable to stand up against National Socialism and its violent actions against political opponents. The fact that Social Democratic organisations were among the first victims of Nazi violence sparked discussions in both countries how best to adjust their own reactions and protect themselves against Nazi attacks, if state authorities failed to do so.

The discussions about the assessment of political actions reveal how contemporary observers thought a civil society organisation’s repertoire in the public space should look. The term ‘repertoire’ is used here to describe the visible features of political movements and civil society organisations. Depending on changing norms, rules, and expectations of how civil society organisations should present themselves in public space of the time, Social Democrats in the 1930s could of course disagree on which forms and elements were appropriate and why. The study of these discussions in the interwar period reveals ideological and discursive elements, unwritten standards and categories of thinking in political parties and civil society organisations, and explains the shifting norms for political action in the streets. ⁴

In face of the attacks by extremist movements, an important change of the dominant paradigm around the understanding of democracy occurred after 1933. Social Democrats brought forward a new element: the concept of democracy itself as a possible argument in the debates about codes of conduct for civil society organisations. The changing concept and meaning of democracy came to play a prominent role in their discussions and in the selection of methods used to confront extremist movements. It will be demonstrated how the emergence of anti-democratic and extremist movements, particularly in Germany, facilitated the formulation of a new understanding of democracy within Social Democracy.

The influence of this new definition on political, historical, and theoretical discussions can hardly be underestimated. Present-day notions about proper, correct, and acceptable repertoire forms for associations which we now call civil society organisations, are still determined by the same paradigm about the relation between democracy and violence. According to many standard definitions, civil society organisations are supposed to be democratic, pluralistic, tolerant, egalitarian and non-violent. ⁵ This view is, however, contested by recent research on nationalist and terrorist communities as discussed in other contributions in this volume. It is argued that these communities were not necessarily isolated and segmented, but rather embedded in social networks, connected to each other through shared cultural notions and informal links of solidarity and affinity.

The focus on contemporary debates and discussions about forms and methods of political action in this chapter thus contributes to historicising preconceived definitions and assumptions of ‘civil society’. ⁶ Recent historical research confirmed that civil society in the Weimar Republic did not necessarily pursue democratic, pluralistic, or tolerant goals. ⁷ Because political violence became an intrinsic part of the Weimar Republic’s political culture, it became imperative for any political movement to appoint stewards to protect their own meetings against extremist intruders, if necessary with force. ⁸ A binary distinction between ‘democratic’ and ‘undemocratic’ is therefore not very helpful in the historical context of the interwar period. This chapter, rather, aims at obtaining a better understanding of the complex mix of ideological and pragmatic reasons of democratic-minded organisations to accept and use forms and methods, which today would be dismissed as undemocratic and inappropriate, including the use of violence.

The Social Democratic movements in Germany and the Netherlands are among the best possible cases to review the changing paradigm around democracy and the challenge of undemocratic political movements around 1930. Before 1918 they applied the concepts of ‘Socialism’ and democracy as central elements in their self-understanding and political strategy. Because of the character of the Social Democratic movements as subcultures or ‘pillars’, with a clear understanding of which civil society organisations formed part of the subculture, it is possible to demarcate Social Democratic debates. The civil society organisations whose repertoires were subject to discussion usually left these deliberations to the political party they were affiliated to. Large parts of the political discussion and discursive process can therefore be traced through contributions in publicly available newspapers and journals. As direct targets of Fascist or Communist violence around 1930, Social Democratic civil society organisations had every reason to consider using counter-violence to protect themselves, and to discuss how to reconcile such measures with the standards of a democratic state. Repertoire discussions obtained a transnational dimension because Dutch Social Democrats closely observed German developments and actively reflected on them, and continued the discussion where the Germans were forced to stop in 1933.

Facing the challenge of National Socialism, German Social Democrats sought the most effective way to oppose extremist violence in the streets and to protect the Weimar Republic. On one hand, Social Democratic ministers and members of parliament put forward the idea that state power in a democracy was responsible for keeping anti-democratic forces in check. On the other hand, many Social Democrats nevertheless considered violence to be one of several possible strategies to cope with the challenge of violent confrontations with extremist movements in the streets. Support for paramilitary actions against the enemies of democracy increased when successive governments imposed restrictive measures on Social Democracy and barred parliamentary forms of opposition. In view of the challenge by extremist parties and movements in Germany, democratic civil society organisations had to negotiate action repertoires in situations in which the state did not (or not sufficiently) respond. This debate will be analysed in the political context of the Weimar Republic in the first section of this chapter. German Social Democrats openly discussed and partly endorsed paramilitary groups, mass manifestations, and under certain circumstances even the use of political violence. According to their understanding of democracy, the concept applied to the goals, and much less so to the forms and methods of political contest.

The debate in the Netherlands after 1933, on the contrary, featured a very new and different paradigm in defining and understanding democracy, by becoming a criterion for establishing the repertoire and desired forms and methods of civil society organisations. Dutch Social Democrats subsequently began to reject political violence—not because it was not effective or successful to fight National Socialism or to defend the Democratic state structure against its undemocratic opponents, but because they considered violence to be an inherently ‘undemocratic’ method, which Social Democracy should not use as a matter of principle. This change of paradigm of the concept of democracy and the use of violence will be the subject of the second part of this chapter, which will be dedicated to repertoire discussions in the Netherlands.

State Power and Paramilitary Organisations: Germany in the 1920s

For a full understanding of the development of debates among Social Democrats, it is necessary to provide a short description of the ideological and historical background of Social Democratic perceptions of state power, violence, and the freedom to express political views in public. Because the Social Democratic movement in Germany was traditionally excluded from political power, its relation to the state and state authority was ambiguous to say the least. Before 1918, the movement established its right to demonstrate and to show its presence on the streets only in the face of significant police obstruction. ⁹ The combination of class struggle ideology, the experience of state repression, and everyday interference by the police and local authorities with public demonstrations created an inherent distrust of state and police.

In the perception of Social Democrats, state power and police authority stood in contrast with their political goal of democracy, which was to be achieved after the Socialist revolution. They perceived themselves as the vanguard of the democratic movement, relying on the organised working class and rallying support for the introduction of universal suffrage. The movement was therefore ideologically unprepared for the constellation which emerged in 1918: the introduction of universal suffrage fulfilled its original demand of political democracy, but did not lead to the expected socialist revolution, as Social Democrats did not obtain a majority in parliament and the old executive, judicial, and police structures were maintained. ¹⁰

In the Weimar Republic, Social Democracy could nevertheless exert direct influence on the state police. Although the Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (Social Democratic Party of Germany, SPD) was not included in most governments on the Reich level, Social Democrats consolidated their position in the major federal states of Prussia, Saxony, Baden, and Hesse in coalition governments with Catholic and Liberal parties until 1932. In the Weimar state structure, the federal states controlled the police forces. A national police for the entire Reich never existed until the Nazis extended the powers of the Gestapo across the Prussian borders, while the army was not supposed to get involved in violent confrontations on Germany’s streets. As a result, the federal states’ Ministries of the Interior were key positions when it came to regulating, banning, or discussing political violence through their control of state police forces.

These key positions were long occupied by Social Democratic politicians. For almost the entire duration of the Weimar Republic, Carl Severing was Minister of the Interior of the largest federal state of Prussia and effectively controlled its police and security structures. During the interval 1926–1930, the post was filled by the SPD President of the Berlin police force, Albert Grzesinski, while Severing served as Reich Minister of the Interior. Another SPD-politician, Karl Zörgiebel, in his turn succeeded Grzesinski at the Berlin police force. Severing and Grzesinski made an effort to reform the police forces and replace conservative, right-wing policemen and civil servants with democratic-minded Social Democrats and Liberals. ¹¹

Through its vested interests in parliamentary state structures, Social Democracy developed a thorough understanding of police work, the importance of upholding law and order, and the necessity to restrict forms of political expression on the streets. The SPD ministers adhered to the concept of ‘disciplined democracy’ to legitimise unpopular police decisions. When social pressures mounted as a result of mass unemployment, police assistance in the forced eviction of unemployed tenants from their homes regularly led to violent resistance by local residents. ¹² When, as President of the Berlin police force, Grzesinski explained in 1925 why a street demonstration should give way to street traffic by arguing that ‘demonstrators, who have time anyway, can please wait for 5 minutes’, this very much resembled authoritarian police comments about Social Democratic demonstrations before the First World War. ¹³ The May demonstration in Berlin in 1929 was one of the worst examples of police violence against workers under SPD responsibility. Although public demonstrations were forbidden and the SPD and its civil society organisations pleaded strongly against taking to the streets, Communists planned their May rally with the intention to provoke riots. As a consequence, 33 people were killed during several days of street fighting. The Communist press blamed Police President Zörgiebel for this by having restricted the right to public demonstrations. Such incidents fed the Communist description of Social Democracy as ‘Social Fascism’, as intrinsically contaminated by elements of right-wing ideology. Whereas Social Democrats had fought for the right to celebrate Labour Day in public space before the First World War, they now took responsibility for state measures denying the same right to Communist members of the working class. ¹⁴

When SPD police officers and Ministers took decisions that negatively affected Social Democracy or the Prussian police did not automatically side with the working class, this led to major misunderstandings with party members. Many German Social Democrats could not understand why the police allowed the right-wing veterans’ organisation Stahlhelm to demonstrate. They were appalled when the Stahlhelm provocatively claimed the streets in cities such as Halle or Berlin for their rallies, even referring to these actions as ‘reconquests’. ¹⁵ Because members of the Socialist working class did not accept an equal treatment of republican and anti-republican movements as a matter of principle, such incidents resulted in a partial loss of legitimacy by the Weimar Republic and a mounting distrust in its institutions.

In February 1924, German Social Democrats had founded their own paramilitary organisation uniting supporters of the Republic, the so-called Reichsbanner Schwarz Rot Gold . The Reichsbanner soon became one of the largest civil society organisations in the Weimar Republic, with up to three million members in 1925. Its uniformed appearance and large mass manifestations carrying the colours black-red-gold were successful instruments in support and defence of the Republic and the Weimar constitution. ¹⁶ The use of the Reichsbanner was not universally accepted among Social Democrats. Carl Severing and others argued that founding Social Democratic paramilitary organisations would ultimately be counterproductive, since this could only contribute to further escalation; would it not be better just to disband this paramilitary formation? ¹⁷ Even before the Reichsbanner was founded, Severing stated with respect to earlier initiatives to found a working-class paramilitary organisation in 1923, that

self-defence organisations are not suited to protect either themselves or the general public. On the contrary, they constitute a great danger to the state, because they constrain police activity in many cases and entail similar organisations in other political camps. ¹⁸

Right-wing fighting corps might argue that they were threatened by their left-wing counterparts and derive their own right of existence from the Reichsbanner. ¹⁹ It was argued that if the Reichsbanner was to exist at all, it should have a merely ceremonial function, never receive police training or weapons, or be involved in police and army planning, for example against a right-wing coup. ²⁰

The emergence of the Reichsbanner showed a lack of wholehearted support for the Weimar Republic. In case of doubt, the Socialist left wing was apparently prepared to abandon Weimar’s republican state structures in favour of a more courageous defence of Socialism and the interests of the working class, a sentiment that was reflected in the slogan ‘The Republic is not much good, Socialism is our aim!’ ²¹ Both the left and the right wing of the party started to favour more revolutionary or authoritarian forms of government. But even for the Social Democratic mainstream, the main reason to support the Republic was the lack of a better alternative. The Reichsbanner should defend the Republic as a useful basis for ongoing political struggle in the interest of the working class: ‘not for her own sake, but for what we aim to make it in the future’. ²²

The SPD experience of democratic structures in the streets of the defunct and ‘bourgeois’ Republic contrasted negatively with new culturalised visions on democracy in ideological debates in the SPD in the 1920s. The Austrian Socialist Max Adler and the Belgian Hendrik de Man extended democracy beyond its narrow political meaning and defined it as a cultural and moral value, to be achieved by a new Socialist lifestyle and the creation of a new Socialist man. ²³ In this line of thinking, democracy still had a positive connotation as a Social Democratic ideological ideal, but the concept was not, or very rarely, associated with the existing Weimar Republic or with repertoires of civil society organisations.

‘Protect Ourselves’ or ‘Clear the Streets’? Debates on the Use of Political Violence

The debates within German Social Democracy about the use of violence gained an entirely new quality and urgency after 1930. Social Democratic and republican meetings, demonstrations, and individual activists increasingly became targets of political violence. They were either attacked directly or happened to stand ‘in the way’ when Nazi street fighters and Communist workers confronted each other. Under such circumstances, the state police were hopelessly overstrained. If Nazi rowdies were arrested, it usually took months before they were put on trial—in which they were regularly fully acquitted.

In reaction the key point of the debate among Social Democrats was the question whether they were allowed to use violence to defend themselves. In retrospect, all political movements at the time used ‘defence’ as their main legitimation for the use of violence. Even the Nazis portrayed themselves in their propaganda as victims of excessive Communist violence. These claims are not validated by official Prussian police reports, even though these had a clear anti-Communist bias and generally did not consider the complex dynamics on the streets, in which violence might directly follow provocations from political opponents. When Nazi squads marched singing through proletarian districts in Berlin, Hamburg, or the Ruhr, and Communist workers attacked them, the police reports usually put the responsibility for the ensuing violence on the Communists. ²⁴

The extended and complicated debate in German Social Democracy about the use of violence can be illustrated by exploring some of the most influential arguments. A common opinion in favour of using counter-violence against the Nazis was reflected in an article in the Sächsisches Volksblatt in 1929: ‘Long enough have we tolerated this rabble’s impertinences well-temperedly. In future, we will know how to protect ourselves and our institutions’. ²⁵ Basically, it argued that when being attacked and molested by ‘this rabble’, socialist workers could not remain passive, but should offer resistance and be prepared to use counter-violence. This view found much support among the left-wing activists of the Social Democratic youth movement. ²⁶

The Austrian Socialist politician Julius Deutsch even advocated the transformation of the Reichsbanner into a genuine Social Democratic paramilitary organisation like the Republikanischer Schutzbund in Austria. He argued that violence should be rejected out of principle, but that if the bourgeoisie enforced violent means onto Social Democracy, the workers’ movement had the duty to be prepared and not to ‘limit itself to moral protests and hope on the mystical effect of democracy’. In such a situation, Social Democracy simply needed a paramilitary organisation ready to fight for its political goals and ideals. ²⁷ Representatives of the SPD’s left wing, most prominently Max Seydewitz, repeated Deutsch’s argumentation in subsequent years. They insisted that extra-parliamentary violence was forced upon Social Democracy, and that it was political suicide to stand by and watch its enemies imprison or kill its members and leaders. ²⁸

Carl Severing and other high-ranking Social Democratic politicians, such as Prussian Prime Minister Otto Braun and party chairman Otto Wels, spoke strongly against such opinions. Already in 1927, they pointed out that it was a ‘dreadful illusion’ to think that Social Democracy could fight and win an armed confrontation if the Fascists already controlled state power, the army, and the police. ²⁹ By 1932 this became more generally accepted, and it was argued that it would be better not to dispute the Fascist possession of the streets and give into their provocations, but ignore them instead and ‘clear the streets! Let the National Socialists demonstrate in workers’ districts in front of closed windows, in front of lowered blinds, on deserted streets, and thus punish them by such a well-deserved humiliation’. ³⁰

Many of these arguments concentrated on assessments of the existing state structure. A majority agreed to maintain peaceful and parliamentary means and to abstain from political violence under the conditions of a democratic, parliamentary state. This was partially due to the fact that Social Democratic politicians, who had been active in parliamentary politics themselves for years or even decades, developed a certain affinity for parliamentary forms of repertoire. ³¹ Partially, it was because of the rational consideration that it was always possible to use violence if parliamentary methods would not work, whereas the reverse option was hardly feasible. ³² However, this premised that the state was still a parliamentary democracy and allowed Social Democratic political participation. If, however, the state was unable to protect Social Democracy or was even taken over by Fascists, was the use of violence under such circumstances not allowed or even advisable? The question was not at all a theoretical one during the 1930s: in the SPD major debates developed about the character of the Brüning, or after July 1932, the Von Papen Reich government as a ‘fascist régime’, because of their rule by emergency decrees, their economic policies, and their disregard of Social Democratic principles. In the perception of many ordinary SPD members the futility of opposition in Parliament, while insisting that Brüning was the ‘lesser evil’, only legitimised extra-parliamentary or even violent methods to challenge state power. ³³

In the debates before 1932, the dominant argumentation for the choice of repertoire methods clearly revolved around considerations of opportunities, conditions, and chances of success. Parliamentary politics, the use of republican state structures, and the renunciation of violence were considered the best means to ensure Social Democratic political influence and to protect the interests of the movement, its civil society organisations, and the working class. At the same time, Social Democrats agreed that a general strike, armed uprising, and street violence might be feasible and necessary methods if the police proved not capable of protecting them against National Socialists or if Fascism would take over power in the state.

This fundamental problem of suitable methods became urgent when democracy was directly assaulted in Germany. On 20 July 1932, Reich Chancellor Franz von Papen took over executive power in the federal state of Prussia and ousted the SPD-led legitimate coalition government, which had lost its majority in Parliament, but was still the acting government. This coup was staged by the legitimate Reich government on the basis of emergency legislation and supported by the head of state, Reich President Paul von Hindenburg. Von Papen forced Severing and the other Prussian Social Democratic Ministers to surrender their powers to a Reichskommissar. The SPD and the Reichsbanner abstained from offering armed resistance, reasoning that resistance was useless anyway and that fighting would only unleash a civil war without a real chance of success. Although the undemocratic coup might lead to Fascism and armed resistance was therefore a legitimate option, there could be no doubt that the army and the police, possibly assisted by National Socialist and Stahlhelm street fighters, would put down an uprising. ³⁴ Social Democratic leaders decided to offer no such resistance, but to appeal to the Staatsgerichtshof (Supreme Court of Justice).

From a purely military and political point of view, the SPD decision was the right one: German Social Democracy did not have a chance to win a civil war in 1932. However, the idleness of the SPD and the subsequent takeover of power by the Nazis in 1933 had a disastrous effect on a symbolical level. Hitler’s appointment to Reich Chancellor and the ban on the Social Democratic party and trade unions sent shockwaves throughout Europe. ³⁵ Apparently, something had seriously gone wrong in Germany—but what could one do to prevent mistakes made in Germany to occur in other countries? Marxist theories which had claimed that Fascism could not take root in a modern and industrialised country, were proved wrong by the Nazi takeover of power. The developments in Germany changed the perception of the Fascist threat, the resilience of democratic state structures, and possible repertoire forms for Social Democratic parties all over Europe. ³⁶

The Challenge of National Socialism and the Debate About Violence in the Netherlands, 1933–1934

The Netherlands were never confronted with an outright Fascist challenge on civil war scale like in Germany. Despite political polarisation and radicalisation and growing doubts about parliamentary democracy, political tensions did not lead to open violence or outright scenes of civil war. Dutch Social Democrats usually formulated statements for or against violence in the subjunctive. Whereas German Social Democrats had to formulate practical and immediate answers to the Fascist challenge, their Dutch comrades could contemplate what to do, if they ever had to face a Fascist challenge. However, this distinction was everything but certain in 1933. After National Socialism had managed to take over power in Germany, the possible danger could not so easily be dismissed for the Netherlands.

The Dutch Sociaal-Democratische Arbeiderspartij (Social Democratic Workers’ Party, SDAP) already faced severe distrust from right wing and bourgeois groups because of an allegedly Social Democratic-inspired mutiny on the armoured warship De Zeven Provinciën in February 1933. ³⁷ The public visibility and electoral success of the Nationaal-Socialistische Beweging (National Socialist Movement, NSB) did not bode well for the future. New legislation introduced in 1933 banned forms of political expression in street demonstrations, which included Social Democratic symbols, red flags, and even red flowers.

In these ominous circumstances, Dutch Social Democrats started to question both their traditional repertoire forms and the norms and standards these were based upon. Should they prepare for resistance against oppression by Dutch state power? Or should they, rather, abstain from using violence in order not to provoke the Dutch Nazis and offer them a confirmation of their anti-Marxist propaganda?

During the discussions in 1933, the SDAP still rejected radical and extra-parliamentary methods, with reference to the differing conditions in Germany and the Netherlands. Social Democratic party leaders argued that the Reichsbanner had not prevented the National Socialist takeover of power in Germany and had even contributed to a political culture in which violence was considered ‘normal’. Besides, the ‘un-Dutch’ method of uniformed paramilitary squads, they argued, would only alienate the rest of Dutch society from Social Democracy. ³⁸ Rather than founding a paramilitary organisation, ad hoc appointed stewards or the police were considered sufficient protection for Social Democratic meetings against Fascist attacks. ³⁹

The opponents of a paramilitary workers’ guard asserted that Fascism was not a significant force in the Netherlands. If the Dutch Nazis would attack Social Democrats and their civil society organisations or even try to take over power, it was the obligation of the police to maintain order. Asserting that the Netherlands were under a severe Fascist threat would only facilitate Nazi propaganda. ⁴⁰ The journalist Meijer Sluijser summarised this argumentation in June 1933: ‘In the present stage of the development of Fascism in our country, combatting Fascism with a workers’ guard would be comparable to starting a surgical operation immediately, although enough time is left for prophylaxis’. ⁴¹ Sluijser and Jacob van der Wijk, a representative of the party’s left wing, actually dismissed the argument that Germany and the Netherlands were very different cases. They argued that before 1933, German Social Democrats had similarly pointed out that social and political circumstances in Italy, where Fascism had taken over power earlier, could not be compared to Germany. The developments in Germany, however, had proven them wrong. ⁴²

After 1933, the NSB regularly chose workers’ districts to publicly acclaim their political slogans and sell their newspapers, leaflets, and brochures. This practice often provoked a violent reaction from Social Democratic and Communist workers. ⁴³ The Social Democratic politician Herman Bernard Wiardi Beckman railed against this, stressing ‘that Social Democratic youngsters should resolutely abstain from giving into the Fascist hooliganism. He, who acts out of his emotions and uses his fists, plays into the adversary’s hands’. ⁴⁴ The fact that SDAP leaders repeated such warnings time and again is in fact a clear indication that young Socialist workers were not that disinclined to use street violence against Fascism. ⁴⁵ Like the party leaders, left-wing advocates of a more radical and violent action repertoire argued on the basis of conditions and opportunities. Hilda Verwey-Jonker agreed that giving into fascist provocations and meeting them in violent street confrontations was not wise, but reproached the SDAP party leadership for not providing an alternative strategy to fight Fascism. ⁴⁶

The so-called Herzieningscommissie , the party committee responsible for the revision of the SDAP programme, stated in October 1933 that Social Democracy ‘could only be forced to accept the detested violent methods of fighting, when a reactionary government itself would prefer the use of violence to law and justice’. ⁴⁷ This implied that Social Democrats should still prefer parliamentary politics and the renunciation of violence. However, the committee accepted the use of violence as a last resort, in case the restrictive measures imposed by a Fascist régime left no other option. Social Democratic workers had to trust state power and the state’s capability to maintain law and order, unless state power had in itself become a tool in Fascist hands. ⁴⁸ Considerations of opportunities and political conditions dominated the Social Democratic discussions about preferred repertoire methods.

Towards a New Paradigm: ‘Democracy’ as a Moral Obligation

From 1933 onwards, a new paradigm emerged in Dutch Social Democracy concerning the assessment and estimation of forms and methods of political confrontation, including political violence. Central to this new way of thinking was a novel understanding of the value of democracy. Until 1933, democracy was generally seen as merely the government system according to which political life was organised and in which political movements had to operate. For Social Democrats, it was additionally a high ideal, one of the goals worth fighting for. In this line of thought, it was acceptable and ‘right’ to use violence to defend democracy, provided violence was indeed the best method to do so. Gerrit Jan Zwertbroek, a left-wing member of the SDAP party board, presented a very strong statement for the protection of democracy in October 1933: ‘The fight for democracy must be fought with all available means and forces. Who is against this, does not deserve democracy. (…) Because who acts like a sheep, will be torn by the wolves’. ⁴⁹ Zwertbroek’s understanding of democracy entailed a militant, active, and vigilant attitude. Democrats had to ‘deserve’ democracy by defending it with all available means, including violence, against anti-democrats.

Now, however, democracy came to be considered an important criterion and benchmark for civil society organisations’ means and methods. Democracy became a moral obligation, a guideline for behaviour in public space. Koos Vorrink, the SDAP chairman, and Willem Albarda, leader of the SDAP parliamentary group, were leading proponents of the new term ‘Democratic Socialism’, which associated the concept of democracy with cultural and moral aspects of human civilisation: freedom, equality, rule of law, tolerance, pluralism, and protection of political minorities democracy became the ‘expression of a belief, based on the principles of freedom and equality for the law of all people’. ⁵⁰ The SDAP expert in constitutional law George van den Bergh explicitly stated in 1934 that democracy was more important than Socialism when it came to achieving the true goal of Social Democracy: individual and spiritual freedom. ⁵¹ These ‘democratic virtues’ as a fundamental element of the goal of ‘Democratic Socialism’ were endorsed by the Herzieningscommissie in October 1933 and incorporated in the party programme of 1937, which abandoned many Marxist ideological arguments.

In direct response to events in Germany, Dutch debates found that democracy was directly connected to repertoire in public space, and that democratic-minded movements preferably should use ‘democratic’ methods. Whereas democracy had previously been a concept describing the inner qualities of a civil society organisation, it now said something about the repertoire which the organisation used or was supposed to use. One of the newly added meanings of the concept democracy was the understanding that violence in itself was ‘not a democratic method’. The ultimate consequence of this position was that democratic-minded organisations were no longer supposed to use physical violence, irrespective of the goal, not even to defend democracy itself. ⁵² The SDAP started to legitimise the decision not to use violence on principle rather than for tactical reasons. Violence was rejected, because Social Democratic leaders held the view that it did essentially not belong to the repertoire of a democratic-minded party. The state structure itself was not considered to be relevant in this rejection of violence. References to violent confrontations and Social Democratic resistance against the threat of Fascism abroad had previously often served as incentives to abandon parliamentary methods and to take up arms. After 1933, they became reasons to reject any form of political violence in the Netherlands. Wiardi Beckman expressed a fear of what might happen if a revolutionary member of the Dutch working class would start an ill-advised violent or terrorist action: ‘Truly, a large part of the bourgeois Netherlands would no longer be concerned with a sense of justice; matters would have become “German” here’. ⁵³

Contemporary discussions show that the implementation of this new understanding of democracy was not the result of a linear, deliberate, and irreversible development towards a modern, parliamentary, and non-violent repertoire, but rather encountered many setbacks, unexpected turns, and opposing views. It took years to become accepted within the Dutch Social Democratic party itself, and some more years to convince other parties and movements in the Netherlands. ⁵⁴ An example of such misunderstandings with regards to political violence and the meaning of democracy is provided by the spontaneous protests of unemployed workers in the Amsterdam workers’ district the Jordaan in July 1934, in which five workers were killed in heavy street fighting with the police and security forces. Communists and left-wing Socialists heavily criticised the SDAP, because the party warned its members in the strongest terms not to participate in this so-called Jordaanoproer . ⁵⁵ On the other side of the political spectrum, the Dutch right-wing parties did not oppose democracy in general, but applied a different interpretation of the concept and therefore rejected the moral and normative version of the SDAP, at least until 1940. ⁵⁶

When the Dutch Social Democratic movement increasingly accepted democracy as a dominant guideline, it started to accept state restrictions to its repertoire in public space. The SDAP had opposed the uniform ban in 1933 because party leaders suspected that the regulation would be used against its own civil society organisations and public manifestations. In 1936, however, the party reversed its position and agreed to state repression of anti-democratic movements as a legitimate instrument to protect democracy. Albarda called democracy an ‘absolute norm’, which had to be defended against extremists at all costs. ⁵⁷ Van den Bergh’s influential lecture De democratische Staat en de niet-democratische partijen (The democratic state and the non-democratic parties) explained in 1936 why it was legitimate for a democratic state to ban anti-democratic parties and associations. Because these parties and movements rejected the very principles of democratic government and the democratic state structure, undemocratic measures were justified for the higher goal of protecting democracy. This approach, which in the next chapter Joris Gijsenbergh calls ‘moral democracy’, drew a sharp distinction between democratic and anti-democratic parties on the basis of their ideological principles. ⁵⁸ Although this was a viable idea on a theoretical level, Dutch Social Democrats were much less successful in drafting legislation against anti-democratic parties and associations. On the one hand, right-wing parties in Parliament strongly opposed Van den Bergh’s concept of democracy. On the other hand, Social Democrats were reluctant to propose legal measures which might at some point be directed against themselves, like in the case of the uniform ban. ⁵⁹

A discrepancy showed up after 1933 between the theoretical reinterpretation of the concept of democracy and its significance for the repertoire used in public space. Violence was indeed rejected and achieving an electoral majority gradually became the only acceptable way for Social Democracy to gain power—within the existing structures of the Dutch nation state, the monarchy, and the parliamentary system. Paradoxically, the Social Democratic use of symbolic and mass propaganda methods significantly increased in the 1930s. Koos Vorrink, Meijer Sluijser, and Martin Gleisner were the main advocates of applying lessons learned in Germany to the Netherlands. Social Democratic propaganda pioneers referred to Hitler’s emotional and psychological appeal to the masses and blamed the SPD leadership for allegedly refusing to use modern propaganda techniques. They started their own experiments to effectively mobilise supporters. ⁶⁰ The SDAP’s Plan van de Arbeid , an economic plan to fight unemployment by introducing Keynesian principles in the Dutch economy, was presented and promoted using modern repertoire methods. The ‘Plan’ campaign used mass demonstrations, symbols, banners, slogans, songs, and theatre plays to mobilise support for Social Democracy and the ‘Plan’, unconcerned about comparisons with National Socialist repertoire. ⁶¹

Internal discussions about these modern and mass-oriented propaganda methods continued throughout the 1930s. Sluijser published a cheap tabloid newspaper, Vrijheid, Arbeid, Brood, to spread the slogans of the Plan and denunciate Nazi ideological and political positions. He allegedly even let his staff members search the waste bins of the NSB headquarters in order to get anti-Fascist propaganda material. Some of these methods were rejected by the SDAP leadership as unworthy of Social Democracy. ⁶² Verwey-Jonker pointed out that Hitler never took over power in Germany with ‘puzzle competitions and sequel stories’, but on the basis of serious political issues. ⁶³ The SDAP gradually abandoned these modern repertoire methods, based on emotional appeals and street politics, after the electoral campaign of 1937. When state authorities prohibited the May demonstration of 1940 with a view to military mobilisation and the threat of war, party chairman Vorrink did not even protest. ⁶⁴

Conclusion

The conclusions reached by Dutch Social Democrats during the 1930s may appear self-evident for present-day observers. Their idea that violence was a very ‘undemocratic’ and therefore objectionable method, sounds very modern. And indeed, in the 1930s it was still a very ‘modern’ view to consider violence undemocratic. This insight in the meaning of democracy for repertoire forms and elements was developed in an era and in a political context, in which democracy was not yet automatically connected to the renunciation of violence. Around 1930, the assumption that violence is in itself principally an ‘undemocratic’ method had still to be invented.

A majority of German Social Democrats agreed that revolutionary tactics should remain an option under extreme political circumstances, even though they were reluctant to use the paramilitary repertoire of the Reichsbanner. When Papen’s coup in Prussia on 20 July 1932 and Hitler’s appointment to Reich Chancellor on 30 January 1933 showed that the state apparatus could no longer be counted upon to protect democratic movements, the use of violence was considered one available option to respond to the challenge. The SPD decision at this time against the use of political violence and armed uprising and in favour of parliamentary and legal means, was based on rational considerations of opportunities and chances to achieve success. German Social Democrats adhered to the principle of ‘disciplined democracy’ and the predominance of state authority, until the point when state power turned against Social Democracy itself. They pointed to the negative consequences of counter-violence against the Nazis under the political conditions of 1932 or 1933 and to the odds against them in a civil war. The Dutch Social Democrats rejected ‘disciplined democracy’ and gradually started to favour a more moral, prescriptive, culturalised understanding of democracy after 1933. A democratic party or a civil society organisation had to act according to a set of ‘democratic virtues’ and was not supposed to use violence, regardless of political circumstances, even when intended to protect democracy against its adversaries. This type of definition was a significant innovation in the discourse about democracy in the first half of the twentieth century.

It should be noted that these diverging discourses on the concept of democracy were not directly related to claims of democratic legitimacy by anti-democratic movements or the dilemma of democratic state governments when faced with such movements. Rather, the different understandings of democracy existed within the democratic movement in the 1930s. Other contributions in this volume confirm that democracy can either mean a set of fundamental principles for state government, or a practical guideline for civil society action. The tension between the understanding what democracy ‘is’ and what democracy or democratic civil society ‘should do’ is still relevant today. Many groups and movements, ranging from separatist regions in former Soviet republics to social movements in Turkey, appeal to democratic values for rhetorical and legitimising reasons. Western observers may assume that oppositional groups in Syria, Russia, or Egypt comply to the standard paradigm of democratic and civil society organisations as democratic, tolerant, pluralistic, and of course non-violent. This will, however, probably only apply to a very small minority of these opposition groups. In the face of severe state repression, many may decide to abandon the method of peaceful street demonstrations and start an armed uprising, abduct or kill regime representatives or police officers, or even hijack planes. The democratic goals and principles involved would in that case contradict the ‘terrorist’ or ‘undemocratic’ methods used by oppositional groups. Western observers would then either deny the democratic credentials of the oppositions because of the methods used, or explain that the government ‘imposed’ these radical or violent methods, militarising the conflict and leaving the democratic opposition no other option.

The intensive debates within Social Democracy in Western Europe in the 1930s about this exact problem took place in a political situation in which the democratic system was under pressure. Endangered by the rise of Nazism, Social Democracy was challenged to define the concept of democracy, select the appropriate methods to defend democracy against Fascism, and distinguish between democracy as a political goal or as a code of conduct for practical action in the streets. From 1933 onwards, Dutch Social Democrats spent years convincing themselves that violence was in itself an ‘undemocratic method’, which should in principle not be used, not even for legitimate goals such as resistance against state oppression under a Fascist regime. This point of view was an important discursive innovation in the history of the concept of democracy, but it did not necessarily qualify for extreme political circumstances—for example after 1940, when Dutch democratic organisations were banned under German occupation. How Social Democrats reacted in this new situation and they legitimised their illegal and occasionally violent activities in the resistance movement during the Second World War, is a subject which deserves special attention in future historical research.

Notes

1.
J. Gijsenbergh, S. Hollander, T. Houwen, and W. de Jong, ‘Introduction: Creative Crises of Democracy’, in idem (eds.), Creative Crises of Democracy (Brussels 2012), 11–20, there 17. Cf. H. te Velde, ‘De domesticatie van democratie in Nederland. Democratie als strijdbegrip van de negentiende eeuw tot 1945’, BMGN 127 (2012), 3–27.
2.
G. Capoccia, Defending Democracy: Reactions to Extremism in Interwar Europe (Baltimore and London 2007); J. Gijsenbergh, ‘Crisis of Democracy or Creative Reform? Dutch Debates on the Repression of Parliamentary Representatives and Political Parties, 1933–1940’, in Gijsenbergh et al. (eds.), Creative Crises of Democracy, 237–268; B. Rijpkema, Weerbare democratie. De grenzen van democratische tolerantie (Amsterdam 2015), 27–81.
3.
J. Gijsenbergh, Democratie en gezag. Extremismebestrijding in Nederland, 1917–1940 (Nijmegen 2016); J. Gijsenbergh, ‘The Semantics of “Democracy” in Social Democratic Parties. Netherlands, Germany and Sweden, 1917–1939’, Archiv für Sozialgeschichte 53 (2013), 147–173, there 147–152.
4.
Recent works using this approach include: Gijsenbergh, Democratie en gezag; K. Mennen, Selbstinszenierung im öffentlichen Raum. Katholische und sozialdemokratische Reper-toire-dis-kus-sionen um 1930 (Münster 2013).
5.
Cf. J. Kocka, ‘Civil Society in Historical Perspective’, in J.H. Keane (ed.), Civil Society: Berlin Perspectives (New York 2006), 37–50, there 38–44; P. Kopecký and C. Mudde, ‘Rethinking Civil Society’, Democratization 10 (2003), 1–14.
6.
A. Bauerkämper, D. Gosewinkel and S. Reichardt, ‘Paradox oder Perversion? Zum historischen Verhältnis von Zivilgesellschaft und Gewalt’, Mittelweg 36 15 (2006), 22–32; D. Gosewinkel, Zivilgesellschaft - eine Erschließung des Themas von seinen Grenzen her. Discussion Paper Nr. SP IV 2003-505 (Berlin 2003); Kocka, ‘Civil Society’.
7.
S. Berman, ‘Civil Society and the Collapse of the Weimar Republic’, World Politics 49 (1997), 401–429; S. Reichardt, ‘Selbstorganisation und Zivilgesellschaft. Soziale Assoziationen und politische Mobilisierung in der deutschen und italienischen Zwischenkriegszeit’, in R. Jessen (ed.), Zivilgesellschaft als Geschichte. Studien zum 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Wiesbaden 2004), 219–238, there 228–232.
8.
J.M. Diehl, Paramilitary Politics in Weimar Germany (Bloomington 1977), 111; D. Schumann, Politische Gewalt in der Weimarer Republik 1918–1933. Kampf um die Straße und Furcht vor dem Bürgerkrieg (Essen 2001), 314–317.
9.
T. Lindenberger, Straßenpolitik. Zur Sozialgeschichte der öffentlichen Ordnung in Berlin 1900 bis 1914 (Bonn 1995).
10.
B. Fischer, Theoriediskussion der SPD in der Weimarer Republik (Frankfurt am Main 1986), 26–38; A. Rosenberg, Entstehung und Geschichte der Weimarer Republik (Frankfurt am Main 1955), 273–496.
11.
C. Graf, Politische Polizei zwischen Demokratie und Diktatur. Die Entwicklung der preussischen Politischen Polizei vom Staatsschutzorgan der Weimarer Republik zum Geheimen Staatspolizeiamt des Dritten Reiches (Berlin 1983), 1–48; H.H. Liang, Die Berliner Polizei in der Weimarer Republik (Berlin 1977), 37–94.
12.
E. Rosenhaft, ‘Working-Class Life and Working-Class Politics: Communists, Nazis and the State in the Battle for the Streets, Berlin 1928–1932’, in R. Bessel (ed.), Social Change and Political Development in Weimar Germany (London 1981), 207–240, there: 213–217, 229–232; M. Schartl, ‘Ein Kampf ums nackte Überleben. Volkstumulte und Pöbelexzesse als Ausdruck des Aufbegehres in der Spätphase der Weimarer Republik’, in M. Gailus (ed.), Pöbelexzesse und Volkstumulte in Berlin. Zur Sozialgeschichte der Strasse (1830–1980) (Berlin 1984), 125–167.
13.
‘Demonstration mit tragischem Ausgang’, Vorwärts, 14 August 1925 (Abend), 1.
14.
T. Kurz, “Blutmai”. Sozialdemokraten und Kommunisten im Brennpunkt der Berliner Ereignisse von 1929 (Berlin 1988), 147–151; H. Weber, Hauptfeind Sozialdemokratie. Strategie und Taktik der KPD 1929–1933 (Düsseldorf 1982).
15.
‘Blutiger Sonntag in Halle’, Vossische Zeitung, 12 May 1924 (Abend), 3; M.B. ‘Der Stahlhelm in Berlin’, Völkischer Beobachter, 12 May 1927, 1–2.
16.
R.P. Chickering, ‘The Reichsbanner and the Weimar Republic, 1924–26’, The Journal of Modern History 40 (1968), 524–534.
17.
Archiv der sozialen Demokratie der Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Bonn (hereafter referred to as AdsD), Reichsbanner Schwarz Rot Gold, Heftmappe ‘Carl Severing, Reichsbanner’ (hereafter referred to as Carl Severing, Reichsbanner), B. von Deimling, Letter to Severing, 4 May 1925; ‘Plauener Angelegenheiten’, Volkszeitung für das Vogtland, 31 July 1924; ‘Zentrum und Reichsbanner’, Leipziger Volkszeitung (hereafter referred to as LVZ), 15 October 1926.
18.
C. Severing, Note to Reich Defence Minister Otto Gessler, 14 June 1923, cited in C. Severing, Mein Lebensweg. II. Im Auf und Ab der Republik (Cologne 1950), 119–121.
19.
AdsD, Carl Severing, Reichsbanner, ‘Interview’, April 1923. ‘Die Wahrheit über das “Reichsbanner”’, Der Stahlhelm, 17 August 1924, 1–2; C. Severing, ‘Verbände und Staatsgewalt’, Berliner Tageblatt, 4 April 1926.
20.
AdsD, Carl Severing, Reichsbanner, C. Severing, Letter to M. Leuteritz, 9 May 1925; Severing, Mein Lebensweg, II, 123.
21.
F. Walter, ‘Republik, das ist nicht viel’. Partei und Jugend in der Krise des Weimarer Sozialismus (Bielefeld 2011).
22.
‘Der Schutz der Republik’, Sächsisches Volksblatt , 19 July 1924, 1–2.
23.
M. Adler, ‘Demokratie als Ziel und als Mittel über marxistische Staatsauffassung’, Der Klassenkampf 2 (1928), 10, 292–298; H. de Man, Zur Psychologie des Sozialismus (Jena 1926). Cf. Fischer, Theoriediskussion; R. Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? De Nederlandse sociaal-democratie en het nationaal-socialisme, 1922–1940 (Amsterdam 2012), 48–70.
24.
S. Reichardt, Faschistische Kampf-bünde. Gewalt und Gemeinschaft im italienischen Squadrismus und in der deutschen SA (Cologne 2009); Schumann, Politische Gewalt; C. Voigt, Kampfbünde der Arbeiterbewegung. Das Reichsbanner Schwarz-Rot-Gold und der Rote Frontkämpferbund in Sachsen 1924–1933 (Cologne 2009), 361–362, 392–394.
25.
‘Hakenkreuzler-Ueberfall in Zwickau’, Sächsisches Volksblatt , 18 November 1929.
26.
Cf. Walter, ‘Republik, das ist nicht viel’.
27.
Cited in Nemo, ‘Proletarischer Antifaszismus’, LVZ 14 (June 1926), 1–2. Cf. Voigt, Kampfbünde der Arbeiterbewegung, 230–235.
28.
K. Krone, ‘Umkehr zu revolutionärer Taktik’, Das freie Wort 3 (1931), 20–21, 45; R. Schmidt, ‘Proletarische Wehrhaftigkeit!’ Das freie Wort 2 (1930), 13, 44; M. Seydewitz, ‘Der Sieg der Verzweiflung’, Der Klassenkampf 4 (1930), 18, 545–550.
29.
Cited in G. Seger, ‘Die Militärfrage’, Der Klassenkampf 1 (1927), 5, 154–156.
30.
‘Zusammenstöße am Freitag’, Dresdner Volkszeitung, 2 July 1932, 6.
31.
S. Berger, ‘Democracy and Social Democracy’, European History Quarterly 32 (2002), 13–37; H.P. Ehni, Bollwerk Preußen? Preußen-Regierung, Reich-Länder-Problem und Sozialdemokratie 1928–1932 (Bonn 1975), 265–268.
32.
Fischer, Theoriediskussion, 185–202.
33.
W. Pyta, Gegen Hitler und für die Republik. Die Auseinandersetzung der deutschen Sozialdemokratie mit der NSDAP in der Weimarer Republik (Düsseldorf 1989), 203–221; H.A. Winkler, Der Weg in die Katastrophe. Arbeiter und Arbeiterbewegung in der Weimarer Republik 1930 bis 1933 (Berlin and Bonn 1987), 207–286, 471–479.
34.
For an overview of the historical debate and historiography about this issue: A. Wirsching, Die Weimarer Republik. Politik und Gesellschaft (Munich 2008), 114–116.
35.
Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 104–129; G.-R. Horn, European Socialists Respond to Fascism: Ideology, Activism and Contingency in the 1930s (New York and Oxford 1996), 4–8, 119–120.
36.
Fischer, Theoriediskussion, 204–234; Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 87–189; W. Saggau, Faschismustheorien und antifaschistische Strategien in der SPD. Theoretische Einschätzungen des deutschen Faschismus und Wider-stands-kon-zep-tio-nen in der Endphase der Weimarer Republik und in der Emigration (Cologne 1981), 20–141.
37.
J.C.H. Blom, De muiterij op De Zeven Provinciën . Reacties en Gevolgen in Nederland (Utrecht 1983).
38.
International Institute of Social History, Amsterdam (hereafter: IISH), SDAP, 87, ‘Notulen van de vergadering van het Partijbestuur, gehouden op Zaterdag 25 Februari 1933’, 20; ‘Arbeidersweer’, Het Volk , 1 June 1933 (Avond), 5.
39.
IISH, SDAP, 87, C. Woudenberg, ‘Nota aan het Partijbestuur inzake de wenschelijkheid van het treffen van oragnatorische maatregelen’, 5 January 1933.
40.
IISH, SDAP, 87, ‘Notulen van de vergadering van het Partijbestuur’, 4 February 1933, 11; IISH, SDAP, 230a, ‘Notulen van de vergadering van den partijraad, gehouden op Zaterdag en Zondag 13 en 14 Mei 1933’, 30–54.
41.
IISH, SDAP, 2544b, M. Sluyser, ‘Nota betreffende afweer tegen het fascisme in Nederland’, June 1933.
42.
M. Sluyser, Planmatige socialistische politiek (Amsterdam 1934), 3; J. van der Wijk, ‘Wat hebben de Duitsche gebeurtenissen aan de Hollandsche Sociaal-Democratie ten opzichte harer geestelijke instellingen te zeggen?’ De Socialistische Gids 18 (1933), 10, 679–696.
43.
Cf. H.G.J. Kaal, ‘Democratie onder druk. De reglementering van politieke manifestaties in Amsterdam tijdens het interbellum’, BMGN 124 (2009), 186–208.
44.
H.B. Wiardi Beckman, ‘Fascisme in Nederland’, Het Jonge Volk 20 (1933), 263–266, there 264.
45.
‘Mussert groeit van herrie’, Het Volk , 19 October 1934 (Avond); H.B. Wiardi Beckman, ‘Politieke vechtpartij’, Het Jonge Volk 22 (1935), 104–106.
46.
H. Verwey-Jonker, ‘Fascisme in Nederland. Wat kunnen we er tegen doen?’ De sociaal-democraat, 15 April 1933, 2–3.
47.
IISH, SDAP, 483g, ‘Verslag van de Herzieningscommissie, uitgebracht aan het Partijbestuur der S.D.A.P.’, 26 October 1933, 11.
48.
Ibid., 9–12.
49.
‘Demonstratieve vergadering der Liga’, Het Volk , 23 October 1933 (Ochtend), 2.
50.
IISH, SDAP, 483g, ‘Verslag van de Herzieningscommissie’, 8. Cf. Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 207–226; K. Vorrink, Om de vrije mens der nieuwe gemeenschap. Opvoeding tot het demokratiese socialisme (Amsterdam 1933).
51.
G. van den Bergh, ‘Democratische vrijheid en socialistisch recht’, De Socialistische Gids 19 (1934), 8, 586–592.
52.
IISH, SDAP, 483a, K. Vorrink, ‘Stellingen in verband met het werk der herzieningskommissie’, June 1933, 11–12. Cf. Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 201–211, 218–226.
53.
H.B. Wiardi Beckman, ‘Demokratie en recht’, Het Jonge Volk 21 (1934), 41–44, there 43.
54.
Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 201–235; P.J. Knegtmans, Socialisme en democratie: de SDAP tussen klasse en natie, 1929–1939 (Amsterdam 1989), 145–215.
55.
P. Posthumus and H. van de Wetering, Harde guldens, harde tijden. Beeld van het Jordaanoproer 1934 (Amsterdam 1984).
56.
Gijsenbergh, ‘Crisis of Democracy or Creative Reform?’; Gijsenbergh, Democratie en gezag, 14–21, 225–240; Te Velde, ‘De domesticatie van democratie in Nederland’, 17–23.
57.
Cited in Gijsenbergh, ‘Crisis of Democracy or Creative Reform?’, 253; Gijsenbergh, Democratie en gezag, 104–106, 128, 195–207.
58.
G. van den Bergh, De democratische Staat en de niet-democratische partijen (Amsterdam 1936); Gijsenbergh, ‘The Semantics of “Democracy”’.
59.
Gijsenbergh, Democratie en gezag, 127–135.
60.
B. Rulof, Een leger van priesters voor een heilige zaak. SDAP, politieke manifestaties en massapolitiek, 1918–1940 (Amsterdam 2007), 169–171, 206–222.
61.
Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 165–174; J. Jansen van Galen (ed.), Het moet, het kan! Op voor het Plan! Vijftig jaar Plan van de Arbeid (Amsterdam 1985); Rulof, Een leger van priesters, 241–260.
62.
Hartmans, Vijandige broeders? 167–170; Rulof, Een leger van priesters, 308–313.
63.
Verwey-Jonker, ‘Fascisme in Nederland’, 2.
64.
G. Harmsen and L. Karsten, ‘De Eerste Mei als strijd- en feestdag in de Nederlandse arbeidersbeweging’, Bulletin Nederlandse arbeidersbeweging 7 (1985), 3–111, there 97–98.