It must have been the first Friday in September 2016, roughly twenty degrees during the day, much colder in the evening, when he as a nineteen-year-old stood waiting with his bicycle outside the Kaap club on the Capucijnenstraat, together with about 150 other prospective members. “I had a sleeping bag, as well as a bag full of ‘compulsory items’, such as a white T-shirt, food and drink for the senior students and a gift for the board.” A small piece of paper with the baggage list had been stuffed in his hand earlier that week.
Observant speaks with the student at Banditos in Randwyck. He reported in to the editor’s office anonymously. It is very crowded at the coffee bar, “I am not afraid that someone is listening in; so be it.” He is doubting whether he wants his name in the paper. Initially he says: “Go ahead.” But during the interview he says – “wow, now that I am telling everything, I find it quite fierce” – a feeling of fear creeps up on him. “They won’t be happy with this.” He remains anonymous.
What does he want to achieve with his ‘revelation’? “I don’t want to get revenge. It is a warning; I want the university to see how it is an accomplice by the way in which INKOM is set up. It is the associations and independent student associations that are allowed to provide mentors and so they are given all the room to recruit newcomers and reduce them to zeros, nothing, slaves during the hazing.” He never filed a complaint with the university. “The UM is part of this. The university ‘brought’ me to Circumflex via the INKOM.”
Great prize
Back to 2016. On Monday 22 August, INKOM starts. The theme is: The Future is Now. “I ended up in a group with two female Circumflex mentors. The international students were ignored quite quickly. All attention was given to the Dutch, or at any rate the Dutch-speaking newbies. At the end of the first day, they took us to a Circumflex house for some fun. Everyone there was very friendly. They acted as if they really cared about us. We were showered with comments such as ‘you should be with us’, ‘our association is the way to find your way here’, ‘it will be lonely without us’.” He gave his telephone number to the mentors, who convince him to come to the club the next day. “I didn’t have anything better to do and the last time there was free beer, it was fun, so well, why not?”
E-mails from the then Circumflex board, which Observant has read, showed that INKOM “is a super important week” and its most important objective is to bring in as many new members as possible. They share with the members that “a great prize” can be won for the enrolment of the largest number of “babies”. During INKOM, the board sends other encouraging e-mails, as they are not satisfied het with the number of enrolments. This is “the moment to snatch the babies from independent Maastricht, Tragos or Koko”. Give the students who have already joined “a warm feeling”, but “also look around for babies who haven’t been able to orientate themselves properly yet”.
Bicycle trip
The student registers with Circumflex “in a drunken fit, during the beer cantus” and is given an invitation to join the introduction. “I had no idea what to expect, I was 19, young, naive. I was thinking it would be something fun, all of us together on a survival trip in the woods, well, I could manage that. It sucked that I had to be present on Friday, as I had a tutorial meeting that day. But everything had to be put aside for the club’s activities, I had to join the camping trip, ‘a pity for the UM’, I was told.”
During the cycling trip to Belgium, the atmosphere quickly changed. “There were no laughs from the senior students who were with us.” When he wanted to light a cigarette, he was shouted at: ‘No cigarette!’. “It made me laugh, but I was immediately growled at again: ‘No laughing!’.”
After cycling for five or six hours, “it was dark already”, they arrived at an empty site with a single bungalow. They hadn’t eaten, had to stand next to each other, and put on their white T-shirts. About twenty senior students, ‘guards’, dressed in a khaki uniform, cap and sunglasses, were screaming and shouting, he remembers. “They were aggressive all the time. Verbally, they never touched us.” A zero number was written on their T-shirts: ‘zero 73’, ‘zero 3’, et cetera. “You were no longer called by your name. People ask why I didn’t just leave then. But everybody does what is asked of them. Besides, you are tired and hungry, that doesn’t help.”
Bad zero
The shouting stayed with him longest during three-day-camp. “At only a few centimetres from your ear or with some ten people at the same time: ‘You are nothing’, ‘nobody here likes you’, ‘you are a bad zero’. The worst thing is that you actually start to believe it.” As ‘punishment’, a zero had to crawl across the ground like a snake, he says. “She injured her cheek.” And then there was not being able to sleep properly: “Every so often, you were woken up. You had to appear before the board to hand over your gift, we all had to go outside or watch a really boring documentary about birds. You had no awareness of time. Nobody had a watch.”
The zeros were put to work during the day: cutting down trees in “mister Jos’s wonderful nature,” said one of Circumflex’s e-mails. The introduction committee sent this to all the zeros after the trip because of the many questions about ticks. “We also had to work with dangerous tools, while we were very sleepy and the guards were drunk. That chopping went on for hours, without decent breaks or food, except for dry porridge in the morning and some sandwiches in the afternoon. When it was convenient for the ‘guards’, we had to show up to entertain them, by telling a fun story on command.”
The associations emphasise that hazing stimulates ‘bonding,’ a sense of belonging to a group. “Nonsense. I had no idea who was standing beside me, they were numbers to me too. I had no energy to make friends or to do much talking.”
Code of Conduct
A Code of Conduct for the Introduction Period was introduced in Maastricht in 2009, which was (minimally) adapted through the years. This is an official UM document, signed by the chairpersons of the four large associations: Koko, Saurus, Tragos and Circumflex, and by now also by the umbrella organisation for the independent student associations. The student doesn’t even know of its existence. “Did they sign this at the time? Should I have seen this? I don’t know anything about it. They have their own rules.”
We take a look at some of the agreements: was there “restrictive use of alcohol for the prospective members, as well as the members of the introduction committee, its subcommittees and other members”? “The zeros were not given alcohol, but the senior students were often drunk.” Did they receive “at least six hours of continuous sleep per night”? He shakes his head.
When the zeros return to Maastricht, the white T-shirts are no longer white, the hazing continues. For two whole weeks, there are “endless evenings” in the Kaap. “We sit there for hours on end, without eating or drinking.” The propaganda machine is running, he says. “They keep repeating again and again that it will be ‘the best time of your life. You learn the rules, traditions, songs. It is made clear that you will belong to the group, that you are different to all those other non-members, to all the other citizens of Maastricht, you may feel better than the rest.”
When the introduction period is completed, a ceremony follows. “The work is done. You belong, everyone is nice again. That switch is bizarre.”
Leave
Looking back, he calls the introduction period “the darkest period of my life”. And although he remained a member for some more months and completes the compulsory shifts at the club (“if you don’t, you have to pay 50 euro”), he concludes at a certain moment that he wants to leave. “I couldn’t be bothered with all those obligations. Moreover, I realised that after the summer, I myself would have to haze ‘zeros’, I didn’t want to do that.” The more he distanced himself, the more disgusted he became with the standards and values, the habits and the hierarchy. It was not easy for him to leave. “They try at all cost to prevent you from leaving. They have invested in you.”
He continues to live in Maastricht. “I had another life here too, with other people, I didn’t want to give all that up.”
Read Circumflex's reaction below in the box