Stephen Elliott
IDC 4001H
March 4th, 2014
The story of Dutch Manhattan, which I’ve known as a string of myths and names without faces, came to me as no real surprise. Like a bullish investment, the Dutch poured out their coin purses to purchase a plot of land that held the seeds for the future of the world. And oh, did they sow them.
We’ve all heard of Peter Stuyvesant, at some point or another. Whether it was in a footnote in a textbook or during a lecture in elementary school, his name has clung to the flypaper hung above the dusty file cabinets hidden in the recesses of our minds. I hardly had a context to put him in, or a reason to search any further, until reading about the man who solidified his place in history, Willem Kieft. Kieft, Stuyvesant’s precursor, laid the groundwork for the city that came before the city, that is, New Amsterdam. Consequently, much of his legacy persists even today, though indirectly. His treatment of the natives not as people but as currency is akin to the civil rights movement in 1960s New York. His treatment of settlers not as people but as burdens is akin to the early days of the great depression and public works projects. And most importantly, his treatment of diversity not as a virtue but as a responsibility is akin to the present-day culture of New York as it is. We don’t preach tolerance; we preach toleration. I could care less that the person on either side of me in the subway is African, Hispanic, or Asian. I only care that they’re not standing in my way. And that about contextualizes the early history of New Amsterdam under the corporate rule of the Dutch: bending over backwards to make a profit.
There was much profit to be had, and scores of seawan and wampum to made, given the geographic position and the fertility of the land. The local populations of natives and likewise the access to the Hudson made Manhattan island the prime spot for colonial corporate success. What troubles befell the island and its Dutch colonists were certainly not a matter of how much money could be made.
The issue that Kieft faced, and indeed what many leaders, owners, and mayors of New York have faced since, is not will it sell, but will it blend? Kieft was fired by his bosses because of the failure of his war and the resulting aggression of the native population. The implants could not adequately and peacefully fraternize with the tribes to the north, and the animosity was mutual. Profit could only keep violence at bay for so long, and when the flashpoint hit (the murder of the old tradesman), New Amsterdam was thrown into the pan at full force.
That is no different than the New York we populate today. Combative, creative, and corporate. The multiplicity of competing ethnicities, identities, and the politics that follow has made the city a battleground for cultures gunning for the best the city can offer. For example, the Irish and the African Americans struggled for the lowest rung on the ladder of society and made Hell’s Kitchen their Normandy Beach.
Perhaps, then, Manhattan can be seen as the Normandy of the Western hemisphere in which customs old and new clash at full speed to create life and culture inimitable but often mimicked worldwide. Kieft could not blend, nor could Stuyvesant, nor could Bloomberg. They build, they consume, they swallow. And that’s what New Yorkers do.
