Never Again?
This text was written for the “Living Archive” Freedom Dinner at the Goethe Institute in Amsterdam on 5 May 2026, organised by the 7 Hills Foundation, as part of the Dutch Liberation Day commemorations.
I have vivid memories of the annual Remembrance Day on the 4th of May when I was a child. As the days grew longer in spring, my brother and I would play outside until the streetlights came on, signalling it was time to return home. But on the 4th of May, a different rule applied: we had to be home before 8:00 PM.
My mother always emphasized the importance of remembering. My Dutch grandfather was one of the 47,000 prisoners at “Kamp Amersfoort” during World War II, subjected to a regime of starvation, abuse, forced labour, and executions. He managed to escape, but like many others, he couldn’t escape his trauma.
My view on the annual commemoration ceremony changed drastically two years ago, on 4 May 2024: the war in Ukraine was mentioned, but speaking about the genocide in Palestine was strictly forbidden. Why aren’t we commemorating all lives equally? Why does “Never Again” only apply to certain parts of the world?
When people from Ukraine fled their country, they were received with open arms. They are from Europe and seen as culturally similar. Even royal palaces were opened for shelter, and they were able to work in the Netherlands immediately, unlike other nationalities who have to wait for years. To be clear, I believe everyone who has been forced to leave their country should be welcomed like this, or rather, even better. But why is this kind of welcome only offered to some?
Where is the solidarity with people from Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Syria, Yemen, Iran, Haiti— and with all those living in countries torn apart by war, shaped by global power dynamics and our demand for resources?
As long as our comfort in Europe depends on the suffering of others, “Never Again” will remain an empty slogan. This contrast lays bare a painful truth: racial and geopolitical biases still shape who is seen as worthy of empathy and protection.
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We wage wars for resources and power, while the planet quietly carries us. Europe and the United States present themselves as defenders of democracy and human rights. Yet what we often see are military interventions and wars carried out in the name of those values. In recent decades, the United States has conducted more wars and military interventions than any other country, often supported by Europe. It is time to open our eyes and face this reality.
Over time, we have handed immense authority to political systems often shaped by fear, competition, and wounded leadership. And it is humanity as a whole that carries the consequences. Meanwhile, we continue searching for ways to expand and divide.
The way we treat each other mirrors the way we treat ourselves. Perhaps the revolution does not begin in governments or institutions. Perhaps it begins quietly within: a soft revolution of self-love.
For a long time, I couldn’t cope with the state of the world. And I know many people are struggling right now, feeling hopeless and powerless. But my unhappiness does not help the world become a better place. The master Sufi poet Rumi said: “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”
What if love is the ultimate form of resistance?
Have you ever tried to speak your truth, or simply be your unapologetic self? I imagine it was not always welcomed. Being yourself is one of the most revolutionary things you can do. It is an act of resistance. It sounds so simple. Why can it not be?
In our authenticity, we are connected. Through self-love and healing, we may discover we were never truly separate, but one. The world is beautiful in all its diversity, connected through love.
Our art and our platforms should be used to speak our truth. We should dance, paint, sing, and write to make truth visible and to heal our collective heartbreak, focusing on love instead of fear.
I cannot heal the world. But I can begin by healing myself, through love for myself and for others. And maybe that is where “Never Again” truly begins.
