The cancellation of the protest against cuts in higher education in the Netherlands is a deeply troubling development, raising profound questions about the state of democratic freedoms and the narratives surrounding public protest. The cancellation is problematic not only because of its immediate effect on stifling an essential democratic right, but also because of the wider socio-political implications underlying this decision. Beneath the official rationale of preventing potential violence associated with pro-Palestinian protesters, there is a deeply troubling trend to curtail public gatherings. This reasoning is problematic in several ways. First, it places restrictions on peaceful, unrelated demonstrations, such as the protest against cuts in higher education, and undermines the fundamental democratic principle of the right to assemble and express dissent. Demonstrations are a vital mechanism by which citizens can hold governments and institutions accountable, especially when crucial issues such as education funding are at stake. To suppress this mechanism is to weaken a crucial pillar of our democratic society. Moreover, and in my view, even more fundamentally problematic is framing pro-Palestinian demonstrations as inherently violent or dangerous. This reinforces negative stereotypes. This is problematic not only for our democracy but also from a humanist position. The cancellation contributes to a climate of fear and suspicion. This not only stifles the voices of people who want to articulate their legitimate concerns about global and local injustices, but also perpetuates damaging, dehumanising narratives.
By portraying the protesters, Amsterdammers, citadins of their city and citizens of the Netherlands, as threats to public order, the widespread problem of racial and cultural prejudice is exacerbated. These protesters are not outsiders; they are residents taking a stand against actions that contradict the values of their city. The Maccabi football supporters, who were welcomed in Amsterdam for a friendly match, dishonoured this gesture of hospitality by engaging in confrontational actions, including tearing down Palestinian flags from facades, burning them, and chanting anti-Palestinian songs. By framing the pro-Palestinian demonstrators as the problem, the authorities fuel the narrative that those who challenge the ‘white European norm’ are unable to engage in peaceful democratic dialogue, further marginalising and alienating them from society.
The implications of this are deeply troubling. We are witnessing a strategy that uses public security concerns as a weapon to suppress freedom of expression and assembly while deepening the social divide. Media coverage of the protests—which arose in response to confrontational actions by Maccabi football supporters, including tearing down Palestinian flags from façades, burning them, and chanting anti-Palestinian songs—focused solely on the reactions of the pro-Palestinian groups, while the actions of the Maccabi supporters were largely omitted from many media reports. The media’s silence on the Maccabi supporters‘ actions marginalises the pro-Palestinian perspective, excluding their legitimate grievances from public debate, while the Maccabi supporters’ aggressive actions were unreported or under-reported, and thus defacto normalised and accepted by the media.
There are two major consequences of the possible perpetuation of this pattern. First, it has an oppressive effect on all forms of public protest, bringing us closer to a society where dissent —the act of challenging the dominant order to reveal and fight against exclusion and injustice, and asserting the place of those previously denied a voice or political recognition— is systematically suppressed and marginalised groups are increasingly vilified. This is not just a matter of one cancelled protest, but a reflection of a growing trend that requires critical scrutiny. Second, we see a sharp increase in a process whereby the ‘other’ is being systematically dehumanised. The media is complicit in this process—it’s as simple as that. They erase Palestinian experiences and marginalise their voices, thus also moving the ongoing genocide in Palestine to the background. In a dazzling lecture at the Royal Geographical Society’s congress in London this summer, Prof Laleh Khalili (Institute of Arab and Islamic Studies, University of Exeter), meticulously showed how this process is ongoing at several levels. She very centrally posed the question, ‘Where is Palestine?’ (you can rewatch her lecture here).
The dehumanisation of the ‘other’ is a dangerous and powerful psycho-political strategy that enables societies to circumvent moral constraints. By portraying a particular group as less than human, it becomes easier to ignore their rights and justify oppression. The ‘us against them’ dynamic, eliminates empathy and compassion for the ‘other’. Philosophers such as Fanon, Livingstone Smith, Saïd and Arendt have explored this phenomenon extensively, highlighting how dehumanisation leads to moral detachment and the normalisation of violence against that ‘other’. In the current social and political climate, we see how pro-Palestinian protesters and people of Muslim background are stereotyped and dehumanised. This makes it easier for authorities and media to ignore their legitimate concerns and justify measures that limit their rights. Depicting these groups as inherently violent or dangerous increases public support for their oppression and reduces moral objections to such actions.
The government can manipulate laws and public sentiment to restrict freedoms, often under the guise of national security or public order. Using legislation to restrict protests, or cancelling peaceful demonstrations based on perceived security risks, is an example of how legal tools can be used to undermine democratic freedoms. This sets a precedent whereby the state can exert more control over public expressions of discontent, ultimately leading to an erosion of democratic values (and for those who think this cannot happen in a democratic Europe… reflect for a moment on the possible consequences of the series of appointments Trump is making for his new administration).
Universities are crucial in promoting critical thinking, academic freedom and fostering civic engagement. They are traditional bastions of debate, innovation and challenging established norms. Where last academic year, universities were still struggling with how to deal with pro-Palestinian protests on their own campuses – with the different universities taking very different approaches – they are now confronted with what it means when your voice is stifled.
But beyond this reflection, the significant impact the new cabinet will have pushes us to reflect and engage as academics. The budget cuts themselves will carry serious consequences. Critical choices will need to be made about which topics deserve attention—or perhaps more fundamentally, which areas can still count on funding, see an illuminating post in the TU Delft independent newspaper Delta in that regard: https://delta.tudelft.nl/article/advies-gebruik-defensiegeld-voor-onderzoek-en-innovatie).
So the question remains: do we want this?
Solidarity within universities and beyond is essential to resist these trends. By collectively standing up for freedom of expression and the right to peaceful protest, students, faculty, and staff can send a powerful message against oppression and dehumanisation. Fostering an environment where diverse perspectives are heard and respected strengthens the democratic principles on which our society was founded.
It is essential that we collectively stand up for the principles of freedom, equality and humanity and resist attempts to undermine them.
Caroline Newton 