At the very base of the Netherlander's character is the very extreme form of stoic tolerance.  Not just any tolerances but all tolerance to things physical, emotional.  Indeed as most people see us we are very tolerant, of others, but never of ourselves.  A Netherlander lives and unflaggingly self flagellating life. If a Netherlander is seemingly enjoying himself other Dutchmen will criticize him for being either idle or smug.  The foreigner is likewise disparaged for being frivolous, emotional, lacking in self-control and dignity, any foreigner, after all no one else is Dutch.

Historically the Dutch (in the Netherlands) are not predatory. Our borders have been regularly invaded and we remain neutral, pacifist.  Those who break with this mind-set are encouraged to emigrate elsewhere, or practice where a blind eye can be turned.

Dutch artists are those who portray in their art, supreme control over every brush stroke. Flemish artists (rogues) are free to express with bold emotional brush strokes.  Compare Vermeer to van Gogh (who is only Dutch when it suits).  There was no argument to cede Flanders to Belgium, nothing but trouble, those free thinkers who dared enjoy and emote. It was efficient to be rid of them.

Evidence to the need for control in every Dutch house. Carpets cover the tables (crumb catching), floors are bare allowing for scrubbing and sweeping.  Chairs lack comfort, coffee cups are small (short breaks). No self-respecting man or woman walks away from a sink of dirty dishes. Meals are cooked with calculated portions with no possibility of left-overs. Women wear little makeup and shoes are repaired often before discarding. Pride comes from bearing up and being productive, frivolity is never productive.

Challenges come from doing the most with the least.  As children we were encouraged to make the egg yolk of a soft-boiled egg last, spread thinly over two (and if exceptionally frugal three) slices of bread, the bread itself carefully cut by mother or servant girl to barely over 1/4 of an inch thick.  I was good at this slicing, I can slice a tomato to unbelievable transparency.  My cousin can serve appetizers for four with a single small sardine, twenty crackers and one hard-boiled egg.  Alcoholism and addiction are unthinkable it would cause a person too much grief to indulge to the point of losing sobriety, a place where self-control cannot be practiced.  That does not mean it never happens, it does. For such a pariah the burden of shame is unbearable.  All excess is shunned, limiting indulgences to just what it takes to live a dignified life, (or what Calvin would have considered a life) no more and no less.  Dignity is measured in your stability over time within a community.  Individuation is suspect, unless — and this is the only exemption — you are an artist.

This does not mean that you can wildly do as you please. The Netherlands understands commerce, the need for money to change hands.  If you are going to be an artist you still must make money at it.  In the Netherlands that means either your art is exportable or strikes a chord with the Dutch austerity. Frans Hals sold portraits door to door. To facilitate doing this quickly he came up with a specific color of gesso for his canvasses upon which flesh and costume and background were the most quickly painted.  Any Dutch painter worth his salt would use paint sparingly in a translucent fashion.  Even the Germans would dip their brush now and again. Meager is the heritage of folk art, folk dances and songs (waste of time).  The Dutch language has been all but replaced by English in the name of efficiency. The mother tongue has been streamlined to common usage only.  The few diehard scholars trying to conserve the language were ignored for practical reasons.  Few contemporaries would be able to chew their way through a book written only one hundred years ago. Words from other languages having appeal are embedded (why reinvent the wheel?), but spelling changed to convey the austerity (i.e.. cadeau to kado).  To step outside of the common fray is pretentious and self-indulgent.

Technology is seen to be efficient, and the Dutch embrace it happily, as a nation. To indulge in it individually it needs justification.  You may have it if there is good practical reason for it. Still after living in north America over twenty years, I agonize over the purchase of a convenience item, or replacing an item for any other reason than the previous one is irreparable. To judge whether or not an item is worth buying — regardless what it is — it must be within budget, built to last and above all an item without which one simply could not go on. Even contemporary Dutch housekeepers are kept enslaved to repair, only when repair fails is a new purchase even a consideration. Enjoyment is a narrowly understood concept, back home it is the satisfaction of knowing that you measure up, you've done all possible to the best of your ability, and great satisfaction derived in going beyond all rational expectation in self sacrifice and endurement of doing without.

Our little country is a testament to going one better.  One better than nature intended. To accommodate a growing population, rather than wage war for property, we fought the sea and reclaimed unfriendly soil growing dull fare.  All this using a system harnessing the wind, many mills doing the double duty of grinding grain into flour. One better than nature made us a leader in plant cultivation. Tulips in colors God never intended. Hi-yield everything, more production per square centimeter.  Dutch farmers cultivate cabbages to within a foot of railway tracks, nothing wasted. Amsterdam, once a seaport now stands inland on fresh water, gateway to new reclaimed polders.

The Dutch landscape has small personal size forests neatly nestled between farmland, windscreens. All of it irrigated and made useful, nothing by accident and always more of the same. Unable to find expression that fits within parameters of restraint the only refuge is to partake of pastimes and experiences brought to us under the banner of foreign influence. Foods, colors and stories brought home by those who sought adventure in pursuit of discovery and plunder — pirates and expeditions.  As long as we could divorce ourselves from an experience by virtue of blaming it on foreigners, we could, as enlightened human beings, partake — showing restrain, of course — in whatever came ashore.  Somehow, still, each of these influences remains intact, not absorbed into the culture, but apart, in its original un-adapted style. To do otherwise would mean that the Dutch had something to do with it, desired it.

By cultural tradition Netherlanders espouse social engineering, and orderly existence controlled by rigidly enforced cultural norms, norms which remain unaltered. Controlled by keeping each Netherlander free of the desire to indulge in things pleasurable.  How? By using a fundamental conditioning technique, shame.  The citizenry takes on the role of surveillance, the cost of being caught in the act of behaving in a manner un-Dutch, is reviled, you are cut off, shamed by gossip.  It starts very young, in school — very efficient schools — everyone treated exactly the same, told they are the same.  Children are expected to be strong, capable and accepting of a system which will always provide the basics, but will never value them above anyone else.  To most this is acceptable, to some not — that is a problem.  Timothy Leary referred to this problem as "how to keep the rat from freaking out in the conditioning cage."

Not all rats "freak", but many are unhappy.  Consider that the Netherlands allows euthanasia in cases of extreme depression.  Some rats may have talent and can become artists (not good enough, van Gogh moved to France).  Shipping out to other lands worked for me, and a good many others.  However, even escape from the conditioning cage does not make you free of deeply ingrained emotionally stunted reactions. It takes a long time to erase the feeling of being judged by those around you, and justifying every purchase to yourself, measuring appropriate responses in order not to be deemed frivolous, idle or unworthy. Big Brother has lived a long time among the Dutch, it is a way of life.  I can't go back, I'd prefer to be euthanised.  Living isn't efficient and nature doesn't require taming. Efficiency and austerity are useful but do not meet all human needs, if you cannot experience passion, just what is the point. There is nothing orderly and efficient in nature, by nature seeds scatter randomly, genes are selected randomly, that is the plan.  Life is not meant to be orderly and predictable, and as long as we are organisms that is how we thrive, as weeds not hi-productivity bio-engineered drones.

The Dutch may not think highly of the French and the Italians, but can anyone argue away the renaissance or the enlightenment? The dirty American for all the lack in restraint, has despite all that indulgence built a powerful nation, unapologetic ally triumphant in matters of state and finances. The rat that freaks out, helped create extraordinary achievements which ordinary persons dared not dream of.  In all its efficiency, the control freak state becomes a soulless observer to all it gave up, sitting on bravely reclaimed land that still offers up little more than cabbages, potatoes and basic root vegetables. Pass the herring they're imported.

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Apparently I live in the best country in the world.  We spend more per capita on health care than any other nation and get the least bang for our buck.  Did you hear the one about the only MRI machine in Saskatchewan out of order for a day when the cleaning staff accidentally pushed a button that demagnetized the MRI magnet?  Good God! Saskatchewan is geographically larger than most countries with a population that is spread out from arctic to the US border It's a good country if you are not poor or ill.  The two unfortunately coincide when unexpected (what other kind is there?) Illness strikes and leaves you unable to work. If you can collect unemployment insurance you have sixteen weeks or so to get over whatever it is or you a relegated to the disability scrapheap. Initially you will simply get welfare of approximately 500 (single person), the same as a healthy person.  Your need for fortifying foods, rest, over the counter medication, vitamins, eye drops, transportation to doctors and so on are your problem.  If there is reason to think that your illness will go beyond six months, you may then apply for an extended disability claim which gives you approximately 750 per month (single). Essentially this does no more than guarantee you can eat low quality fare everyday (no foodless days as before), no more.  It does not consider that some of us are not well enough to fetch food from the food bank, stand in line for a meal.

That 30 pound weight loss you suffered as result of your condition may leave you needing clothes.  What an appalling time in your life to made to feel worthless and pathetic.  I've been in the workforce sine the early 70's, the best country in the world no longer requires that I have comfort, health or dignity.  It may take a while to get a proper diagnosis, without which you cannot hope to collect CPP (you know the plan you've paid into your whole life.)  Which although not sufficient to sustain a middle class lifestyle would at least provide some extras, including training or education necessary to re-enter the workforce, when/if sufficiently healthy to go back to work.

Further complicating your life is the maze they make you run to get this "diagnosis".  It is not unknown for someone to be ill for many years before the puzzle is solved. That then is when you can apply for CPP and other services as available through a support group (hopefully) for what ails you.  It took Montel Williams with all his celebrity and resources seven years in the US, where you can buy health care. Seven years.  What chance then has a Canadian with less than adequate resources?

Must be new math, but I have some difficulty understanding how a tobacco company collecting less than 50% of the price of a pack of cigarettes with all costs (employees, crop purchase, manufacturing, advertising etc.) is making a colossal profit. The provincial government, on the other hand, earning a chunk sans the costs, can't adequately pay doctors and nurses so they will stay and work here.  When was the last strike of tobacco employees? If the health care system in BC is so stressed financially, how does the government justify taking money from the health care budget and put it towards building Ferries?  How much does it add to the cost of universal health care which in effect, keeps people poor and unable to afford prevention, nutrition or optimal recovery?  Without access to adequate services some of us will not be going back to work and contributing back into society.  The system does not necessarily kill us, it just won't let us be well.  Being diagnosed with an illness is the critical step towards recovery.  Unaware of malignancy, heart problems and other conditions that with adequate treatment leave person able to live, contribute and participate in family, community.

Guidelines and protocols drafted to the requirements of the system provide guidelines to doctors on what they should and should not order for you.  To get the help you want
you will have to clearly exhibit the correct constellation of symptoms in order to have appropriate tests and referrals. The guidelines and protocols are not yet complete and illnesses are excluded entirely if they are rare (orphan). All very half-assed for something lauded as being universal.  Is it universal that a doctor may prescribe the best medication for a condition (let's say schizophrenia) but the patient cannot afford it and gos either without or agrees to take less safe less effective medication. Likely you won't know which medication is not covered until the prescription has been filled and you are asked to pay for it, and, when you cannot, then what?  Does anyone give a damn how that makes you feel?  What right has a bureaucrat in a universal system to decide to counter the Hippocratic oath and deny a patient the chance to a doctor's best efforts?

Very clever of the government to turn and blame the doctor for being the spoilt child and shame them in the media for being cold hearted and greedy.  The government might reconsider, we're not falling for that one so easily.  The people of Prince George took the doctors' side and rejoiced when the battle was won. Throughout history and regardless of the culture the
healers hold a sacred place in society, the medicine man/woman, shaman, or witch doctor were not to be challenged but revered for their wisdom.  It was wise to pay them their fee, your life depended on it.  That hasn't changed.

Let's stop pretending that this is a universal system where no one is favoured. The wealthy don't put up with this horrid system, they don't have to, they can buy it elsewhere (US, Europe.) You'd do the same. Regular people are taking out loans for diagnostic tests, treatments and surgery. You can't jump the waitlist in Canada or open private facilities to citizens of BC, but you can open one to provide services to Americans. Keeping the wealth here and allowing doctors to charge those who can and government subsidize only those that cannot afford it makes perfect sense to me.  Conrad Black and for that matter MLA's with portfolio don't need government health plans, they could afford a either to pay directly or purchase private coverage and that would take money back into the private sector.  By now we are all unpleasantly aware that bureaucracy is a poor manager of money (boondoggle).  It is not in the healers interest or inclination to turn down someone in need (remember the Hippocratic oath), the same cannot be said of politicians.  Simply, who do you look to in matters of health, the doctor, or the bureaucrat.  Make sure you put the blame on the right person and make sure they hear you.

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The Right Question
 

Man searches endlessly for answers. Answers to his/her existence, answers to explain cruelty, misfortune, each answer bringing to the fore yet more questions. Man is driven to invention, scheming, experimentation and experience in the attempt to find the answer, even those for which there is little if any practical use. It's all very interesting to know what kind of pottery early man used, but can we apply that to anything more useful than the archeologist making a living?

Questions can be categorized initially as those that if answered will change a life and those that merely make life more interesting. Questions are incredibly powerful, as are the answers that are given. Answers also are categorized as those that affect change and those that do not. A life can be dedicated entirely to finding just one answer, or many. The questions we need to ask define who we are at that moment. The questions we do ask are just as likely to be dictated by societal norms, expectations, peer pressure, respect for self or another; the ones we need to ask matter to ourselves only. Those very personal questions in this socialized world are often the last we get to ask.

Problematic, is putting aside the less important questions and answers and dealing with the ones that will transform us.  Then it is helpful if someone could just help us sort through the attic of questions and answers we have put aside and clearly set in front those most powerful questions and answers.

Nowhere is this more critical that with persons who were abused as children. Their sanity and survival depending on keeping the secret, maintaining at least the appearance of normality. The primary questions for the child are: Why do you hurt me? Do you love me? Am I bad? Each question supplies an answer directly setting the self-worth of the child. The child
will know the answer is that the person doing the hurting is bad, this person should love me, I am not bad. The abuser however will convey no answer to why he/she hurts them, will claim to love them and will blame or shame the victim. The child is conflicted and without help cannot sort it out. At some point the child no longer asks questions and tries only to survive and save a little self-worth.

The key to bringing the right question back to the surface is to have someone the victim trusts ask exactly the right question. Someone the victim trusts not devalue the person in light of the answer. In my case the right question has never been asked at any time.  For years I walked around containing the pain, the humiliation, still looking for that one relationship where I could unburden myself. Most of my energies were spent trying to fit into a world which valued to well-adjusted confident person. So whatever else, you give the public what it demands. On
a deeper level there is a driving neediness to expose the truth and be known for who you are.  Without that understanding from others no one passes from victim to survivor.

The test for being trustworthy enough to confide, is that the person you speak with is involved enough to sense that something is wrong, that you need to share your story. The best way to be shown that conditions for trust are met is that the right question is asked. Since the victim wants to unload, victims try to goad the asking of the right question, we know what the  question is, but we cannot tell because we are afraid to hand the key to the wrong person.  So we hope that it happens soon, maybe this time, perhaps today.

Younger, less experienced victims, will offer bits of truth to people they hope are trustworthy, often this turns out to be wrong.  Each error makes it more difficult to try again. Eventually a victim decides not to take such risks anymore and the abuse, ongoing or not becomes buried denied disassociated. In my case for decades. Enormous energy is spent on being normal, appearance of being confident, being happy of not being a victim.  Predators are everywhere and they can sense a victim.  So we cover our tracks.  I've most often been described as
hard-nosed, stuck-up, a bitch. Fine. Good, exactly what I had planned. Living a lie was the only way to stay safe. If you're good at keeping the facade up, no one would think you were ever a victim, so of course no one will think to ask the question.  Totally self-defeating.

At the same time, to feel good about yourself you need outside validation.  Best way to get it, please everyone and make no demands. Reading past performance comments made a job reviews, course work etc. these describe someone I know, because I invented her. No one knows me, not even me. The real me breaks through sometimes. Triggered by a smell, texture, sound, taste, always unexpected. I hide from everyone till it passes. Reconstruct the facade and go on. It takes so much energy.

There have been times I thought the question might be asked. Tried to trust. In some cases the trust was misplaced, in other cases they asked every question but the one that held the key. Not for lack of dropping hints. Side stepped every time, I would allude, they'd allude right back. I've hinted consciously (by telling pieces of the past), and unconsciously (rashes, vomiting, screaming in my sleep.) Sensing the unpleasantness, rather than allowing me to let it out, the subject was moved away from, or worse, devalued. Confiding even small amounts of  unpleasantness can result in incredible fallout.  Relationships are altered or ended.  Being the source of unpleasantness leaves you self-conscious, at some point retreat is necessary to  become hidden, left alone. It is much better to be invisible than inferior.

The right question is the one that proves you are listening and that you accept what has been said as absolute truth. The wrong question is the one that shows you are reacting to what you think has been said, you've interpreted rather than accepted what I have been saying. This diminishes what I have said, and I know I cannot count on you. When dealing with something sensitive, make it easy, don't make me figure out what you're getting at, just ask as directly as possible. Investigators and journalists are very good at this, and that is why investigators and
journalists are confided in. We want to confess/confide, it greatly eases the burden.

Don't ask if something is bothering me. That's vague, makes me guess what you might be getting at, tempts me to offer you what you want to hear. Ask me instead if you make me uncomfortable. I'll tell you yes or no, but if you want an explanation, you'll have to ask. I need to be valued and I will not volunteer up information that may be used to belittle or damage me later.  Once trust is achieved, I hope you're ready for the torrent I release, at this point I may not be able to control the flow, so unless you really want to get into it, don't ask.

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