June 21, 2026 De Limburger, Joos Philippens, photos from de Limburger and Chapeau Magazine. Translation: Ineke, edited by Diana D. Le War-torn past inspires Pierre Rieu: 'I want to dedicate myself to peace, because the world is on fire' Pierre Rieu, son of the famous violinist and orchestra conductor André, is working on an "experience about peace". A key driving force is his family history, with a Jewish grandfather and a grandmother in the resistance. "My grandparents' fears have been passed on in my DNA." "What does this remind you of?" Pierre Rieu asks with great interest. We are standing in a recreated café that looks like the set of the 1980s TV series Allo, Allo, which satirized both the Nazis and the French resistance. “Uh, to be honest, I think of Allo, Allo." Rieu responds enthusiastically: “Exactly right! Look, there hangs the Rue Nouvion sign. Up here, we are going to recreate Madame Fanny La Fan’s bedroom.” The café set is located in a warehouse on the outskirts of Maastricht, where Rieu has been collecting military equipment for many years. A tank, Jeeps, Humbers, trucks, and an amphibious vehicle. A remarkable passion for — or is it an obsession with? — war. Where does that come from? The passion turns out to be deeply rooted. Pierre’s grandfather was German and Jewish. “A difficult combination, with his German accent, before, during, and after the war. He came to Maastricht in 1933, when Hitler seized power. His brother volunteered for deportation and was gassed within eight days.“ As a child, Pierre always leafed through photo albums about the Second World War at his grandparents’ house. During his high school years, for a history project, he ended up just across the border in Belgium, at Fort Eben-Emael, the "impregnable" fortress that the Nazis captured with gliders during World War II. Rieu was already giving tours there at the age of 16. What deeply affected him was a visit from two German commanders who had landed at the Fort at the time. "I had photos of them with Hitler. Now I was standing face to face with them, shaking their hands. Suddenly, it all hit very close to home. Just a handshake away from Hitler. But still. Those two were professional soldiers, not Nazis. Not every German was inherently evil; just take my grandfather, for instance. That’s why we in our family are careful not to generalize. Speaking about people as a group is very dangerous. 'Do you want more or fewer Moroccans?' It makes my hair stand on end." At 18, Rieu bought a Willys Jeep, the beginning of his military collecting obsession. "I have a fondness for mechanics, I fixed up that Jeep, and then things got a little bit out of hand." Understatement of the week, amidst the collection of tanks, Jeeps, Humbers, and military trucks. He roars with laughter. Turning Point As a teenager, Pierre was a different person. The intention to do something for peace, as he does now at 44, was far off back then. "I just thought it was cool to drive around in a Jeep like that." His friendship with American war veteran Frank Towers marked a turning point. Towers, who helped liberate Maastricht, saw a train with sealed wagons in East Germany in 1945 while serving as a soldier. Inside, he found 2,500 Jews whom the Nazis had left behind during their flight from the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. That was horror. Towers made it his life's work to track down as many survivors from that train as possible. In 2011, there was a commemoration in Israel. Towers asked his friend Pierre to go along as a buddy. "That gathering was so incredibly emotional. Those people coming face to face with their liberator. Unbelievable!" Afterwards, Pierre struck up a conversation with an Amsterdam woman who had been on that train. They also talked about Pierre’s family. Her husband asked: “What was your grandmother’s name?” At the name Nelly Eijmael, something special happened. The man grabbed Pierre’s cheeks and didn’t let go. “My boy! I am alive thanks to your grandma! You are the first person I can thank. I was in hiding in Maastricht, where she took me from place to place.” Pierre couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I often stayed with my grandparents, but that was never spoken about.” (Article about Nelly Eijmael, click HERE). A few years later, he was back in Israel with his father’s orchestra, where he heard over the walkie-talkie that someone had a gift for him. I said, "'Just take it.’ Not out of arrogance, but I was very busy. Then I heard, ‘It’s about your grandmother.’ That changed everything. I ran outside. A woman had a photo of my grandmother with the entire resistance group."

Betrayed That group was betrayed at the end of the war; many were executed, but his grandmother survived. Warned by a cousin who worked for the PTT, eavesdropped on conversations, and announced raids. Pierre didn't know. It explained a lot in one fell swoop; for a long time, he struggled with inexplicable fears. "Now I knew: their fears have been passed on in my DNA." Something just clicked. "I want to dedicate myself to peace, because I see that the world is on fire. To quote 'Soldier of Orange': if we do nothing, who will?" He is doing something, and that gives him a good feeling. "At least I am trying." Two years ago, it finally clicked when he was speaking with his daughters. "The standard term 'Stop War' has become like an oil light in your car. If it lights up, you have to go to the garage. You forget about it, and after three months, you don't notice that light anymore. Until your car breaks down." Knot “That 'Stop War' has existed for a hundred years. It’s nice that people hang posters behind their windows, but it doesn’t incite action. With my daughters, I turned that into a question: 'Why stop peace?' Next, we tied a knot in the barrel of my tank." Two years ago, his group drove twelve renovated vehicles through Son en Breugel (town), including the tank tied in a knot. “They were all military purists there. I felt the tension surrounding that knot. We handed out bags, stickers, and even condoms with the logo Why Stop Peace? And beautiful conversations got going. Eventually, they understood. But that knot, too, is an outdated symbol. When we do memorial rides again in September around the liberation of Limburg, that knot will be out. That really hurts me, but I realize that it doesn't work anymore. I no longer support it." Pacifism alone is pointless, that is the lesson he has learned. "There are more tanks here in the warehouse than the Dutch army has. Seriously. They were all sold to Argentina. Hopefully, we have learned from that naivety. You have to show muscle to scare off aggressors. I am 100 percent anti-war, against violence; you won't see me angry often, let alone hit someone, but you have to take precautionary measures. A world without war and aggression is nonsense. No more knots in the barrel, then. That is impossible, while we are spending billions on defense and are essentially in a Third World War." Technology The café from Allo, Allo is the gathering place for the forty volunteers who help Rieu in the warehouse. “I can spray paint and weld cars a bit, and I know a bit about engine mechanics. Enough to figure out who we need for which problem. It is a group of friends. Fathers with sons, a notary clerk, an ENT surgeon, someone from asbestos removal, welders, mechanics, farmers.” For Pierre Rieu, being together on Wednesday evenings and Fridays is pure enjoyment. “I really enjoy sharing. Sometimes we just talk. Believe me, I am never alone here.” The military vehicles can only be visited by invitation or by schools that sign up. “I don’t want a museum where eighty headlights stare at you. That tells nothing; it is only fun for vehicle enthusiasts. Discussions about the wrong screws and such.” Through Why Stop Peace, Rieu came up with the idea of a Peace Experience. “I come from the entertainment industry. Children should leave here with the feeling: that was cool! It won’t be an amusement park. The point is to get the conversation flowing at home as well." Rieu devised fifteen scenes, full of digital spectacle, three of which are already completely finished in the warehouse. Two are still under construction. We walk up a staircase in the warehouse, the entrance to the Experience. Wow, two entire walls of images of a (non-existent) South Limburg village immediately overwhelm you. Suddenly, the images transition into the bombing of Rotterdam. Bomb impacts. Fire explosions. Machine gun salvos. Sirens. Soon the floor will shake too, and debris will come from the ceiling. "All your senses are screaming, 'I have to get out of here!' But the group leader stays put. And so do you", Rieu explains. The lesson: how is it possible to have so much trust in someone you have only known for ten minutes? Next, we pass through a bunker to a realistically recreated alleyway with a mini-theater, where the Deutsche Wochenschau (German Newsweek) is being shown. Original black-and-white footage of a mass speech by Adolf Hitler. A huge shock. Suddenly, the reporter recognizes himself, large on the screen, looking around with a bewildered expression. "Hey, that's me!!" Rieu is very pleased with that shock. "You saw my preview during Memorial Day; you knew what was coming, right? You know me a little, don't you?" Well, apparently not well enough. At that gathering in the town hall in Margraten, children looked in amazement at the footage from a film in which they saw themselves. But the fact that Rieu has now used AI to edit the reporter into the film... It makes an impression. "Your attitude during that speech by Hitler would have meant a one-way trip to a concentration camp," says Rieu. "How do you translate that feeling into the world of a high school student? Do you look away when a classmate is being bullied? Do you join in? Or do you confront the bullies? Do you comfort the victim afterwards?" In every scene, someone from every group of visitors pops up in this way. "That's how you keep the attention. 'Who among us is going to appear in the next scene?' After the nearly hour-long Experience, there has to be a half-hour debriefing."

The Experience was supposed to provide Maastricht with a new educational attraction. That is, until former Mayor Gerd Leers, the founding father of André Rieu's Vrijthof shows, came forward and put Pierre in touch with Mayor Alain Krijnen of Eijsden-Margraten. The latter was impressed by the embryonic Experience Center. "All well and good," said Krijnen, "but this naturally has to be in Margraten, the site of the American cemetery." "Out of the question," responded Pierre Rieu, although he immediately realized the power of the combination in Margraten. He was also apprehensive about the reaction of his volunteers. They surprised him. Unanimously, they said: "Fantastic!" That was a wonderful feeling. Pierre Rieu put his "chauvinistic ego" aside. He is proud of that. "It is not about me. We developed the technology for the Experience with Submedia from Heerlen. Is someone copying it? That is the only thing I am proud of. At least, if it is used in the right way." So, his current Experience under construction is becoming a prototype for the "real" one in Margraten, which, as far as Pierre is concerned, should be ready within five years. The municipality of Eijsden- Margraten is in charge of that multi-million project. Funders can already see here what to expect. Rieu realizes that he will still have to deal with plenty of 'shit'. After the first publications about the Experience, comments appeared on social media such as, "Do those vultures have to profit from the Second World War now too?" He doesn't want a cent for it. "I am the founding father, I want to continue contributing ideas, but I don't need to be mentioned later. That is absolutely not what it's about for me." Criticism The cheap criticism only made Rieu more steadfast. "Never judge, never reject. Always engage in dialogue. 'Your strong language touches me; I am curious where it comes from.'" He had to learn that. "Where judgment begins, observation ends. Man, I used to get into such heated arguments with my father! Now I say, ‘That’s interesting what you’re saying.’ So help me understand you. And then, possibly, ‘You’re right.’” Pierre also applies this attitude to his father's concerts, the travel agency, and his hotel on the Onze-Lieve- Vrouweplein. "I select the staff myself. They must delve into each guest individually, not settle for standard platitudes. See the individual person. Mindfulness, for years Pierre considered that 'airy-fairy nonsense'. "Until I experienced, I needed it myself. I honestly tell people, 'That remark touches me.' It's not a trick, almost a way of life. I have never been so close to myself as I am now. It makes life so much more pleasant."

To go back to Pierre Rieu page 6, click HERE.

Pierre Rieu and Flo at a war scene in his "Peace Experience" exhibition, currently under construction in Amby, Maastricht, Netherlands in June 2026. © Harry Heuts.