Why Don't They Just Say They're Sorry?

A defence scandal in the Netherlands

On 14 September 1984, Rob Ovaa, a technician working for the Netherlands Ministry of Defence, was told to test a type AP-23 landmine. When it failed to detonate, he waited for the prescribed five minutes, then came closer in order to safe it. As he bent over it, it exploded and killed him. He was 27 years old. A social worker called Fred Spijkers was sent to inform Marjoein Ovaa. He was instructed to tell her that her husband had died because he had not taken proper precautions. But he revealed to her that he did not believe this story. He started his own investigation, was harassed by the government and eventually lost his job.

“Just imagine it happening to you. A man comes to your door and tells you that your husband, the father of your children, has been killed in an accident, an accident he caused himself.” Frans Timmermans, now the Dutch Minister for European Affairs, commented on the Spijkers scandal when he was a Member of Parliament. “At that moment, a process is set in motion that even Kafka could not have imagined. Years and years of deception—there is no other word for it. This is a process that all representatives of the state should feel deeply concerned about. And all of us, inside and outside the Ministry of Defence, should feel deeply ashamed.”

I often teach in countries with high levels of corruption, and I tell my students there is no such thing as an honest government. All over the world, state officials lie and abuse their powers if they think they can get away with it. The only way to keep them honest is to watch them day and night, and to hold them accountable for their actions. In the Netherlands, transparency, accountability, the separation of powers and the rule of law are well established. But even with these controls in place, things can go seriously wrong, as they did in the Spijkers scandal.

The AP-23 landmine that killed Rob Ovaa had a faulty fuse. The Ministry of Defence had been aware of this for several years, and had banned the use of this weapon back in 1970. However, it had not removed the landmine from its stockpile. On 18 July 1983, several soldiers had died and others had been seriously injured when a landmine of this type exploded in a military classroom.

The AP-23 is an antipersonnel weapon similar to a Claymore mine. It was manufactured by Eurometaal, formerly a state ordnance factory called Artillerie-Inrichtingen. In 1997, the Ottawa Convention banned all anti-personnel mines. The Netherlands supported the adoption of this treaty and has ratified it.

There was a secret file on the 1983 accident, and social worker Fred Spijkers had seen it. He had joined the Ministry of Defence in the spring of 1984. On the day Rob Ovaa was killed, Spijkers was instructed to inform Marjolein Ovaa, a police officer and a mother of two children, that her husband had died as a result of his own mistakes. Spijkers drove to Zandvoort and carried out this order, but revealed to the widow that he did not believe the official story. He began to investigate the real cause of Ovaa’s death and attempts by the defence authorities to cover up the facts. It would take about 13 years before the story hit the mainstream media.

In 1985, a secret investigation by the military police concluded that Ovaa had died because he had not been careful enough. His widow was denied compensation.

Fred Spijkers’ role in this scandal was complicated by the fact that besides working for the Ministry of Defence, he was working for the Netherlands internal intelligence service (BVD) and passing sensitive information to the BVD. In 1986, the Ministry of Defence suspended him from service, and the Military Intelligence Service labelled him ‘politically criminal’. Another year on, he was fired. He successfully contested his dismissal in court, but was not allowed to return to his job. Doctors of the Ministry of Defence declared him psychologically unstable.

On 18 June 1989, unknown persons shot at Spijkers in the car park of a McDonald’s restaurant in Huis ter Heide, but he survived. Spijkers claimed that one of the assailants was working for one of the security agencies. He reported this incident to the police, but it was not investigated.

In 1992, the human rights organisation Global Initiative on Psychiatry criticised the treatment of Spijkers as ‘political abuse of psychiatry’.

Spijkers won another court case in 1993 but lost his unemployment benefit because he refused to sign a declaration that he was unfit to work. In the 15 years that have since passed, Fred Spijkers has not had an income.

In the mid-1990s, the leadership of the Ministry of Defence began negotiating the payment of compensation to their former employee. Since then, as a result of hostile publicity, critical questions in parliament, condemnations by experts and court rulings, the Dutch government has been on the defensive in this scandal.

By the turn of the century, it was clear to all concerned that the government had frequently lied, tried to intimidate Fred Spijkers and violated his rights. Now, 24 years after his ordeal began, it seems likely he will soon receive complete rehabilitation and proper compensation. However, Spijkers also expects an apology. He wonders: “Why don’t they just say they’re sorry?” This the government seems to find particularly difficult.

We can learn several things from this story. Power tends to corrupt. In the Netherlands, as everywhere, politicians and government officials sometimes think they can cover up their incompetence, their wrongdoing and their lies. They may try to bully their subordinates into compliance. Often, they succeed. It is difficult and dangerous for government officials to attempt to expose such abuse of power. Most ‘whistle blowers’ fail, and their careers are destroyed. This discourages others from following their example.

Transparency helps to prevent the abuse of state power. But the media are not always vigilant and thorough. It took many years before the Spijkers affair developed into a full-blown scandal. Now that it has, leading politicians and officials have egg all over their face. Some are still in office.

The Dutch government has not done itself any favours in this scandal. If at an early stage it had carried out a full and honest investigation, acknowledged its mistakes and misdeeds, taken action against the people responsible, apologised to the victims, repaired the damage, and acted to prevent any such scandal from recurring, it would have done the right thing. It would also have spared the victims further pain and damage. Finally, the government would have saved itself a lot of money and embarrassment.

Transparency and accountability are essential for good governance. Without them, we would never be able to keep our governments honest. But they are also useful to the people in power. When things go wrong, they can cut their losses. By coming clean quickly, they can limit the painful consequences of their lies, their wrongdoing and their bungling.

Sami Faltas

This article was published in Security Matters, newsletter from the Centre for European Security Studies, issue 20, November 2008, pp. 11-12.