Like their counterparts at Berkeley, the Provos (provokers) of Amsterdam are always good for a chuckle. A well-organized group of young artists, writers, intellectuals and university students, they are opposed to just about everything. They have urged the government to paint all Amsterdam chimneys white to eliminate smoke and soot. They have also printed dynamite recipes for anyone interested in blowing up the burgomaster's house. When Crown Princess Beatrix married West German Diplomat Claus von Amsberg last March, they threatened to spike the city's water supply with LSD and stampede the horse-drawn wedding coach with a herd of white mice. Last week in a fourday riot, the Provos proved that they were no laughing matter.
The trouble began when 1,500 building-trade workers, striking against a 2% cut in their vacation pay, gathered for a demonstration and scuffled with local police. On the second day the Provos made their appearance, and a mob of thousands swept toward the center of town, tearing up the pavement, uprooting parking meters, smashing windows, burning cars, looting stores and completely overwhelming Amsterdam's 1,900-man police force, which always seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Though the workers returned to their jobs the next morning, the Provos kept up the riot for two more days and nights, throwing the city into chaos. Undermanned and overworked, the police called for army reinforcements. Stores and restaurants boarded up their windows. Parliament and Queen Juliana's Cabinet went into emergency sessions. Finally, reinforcements arrived and calm was restored.
Toward week's end, everyone was blaming everyone else for the riots. The Provos blamed the police—for using what they claimed was undue force against demonstrators. The police, in turn, blamed the Provos. Conserva tives blamed the welfare state. Every one else blamed the 90° heat. Who ever was to blame, the result was 109 civilians and policemen injured, one civilian dead.