Freedom of speech is not a privilege for progressive voices

Freedom of speech is widely regarded as a cornerstone of democratic society. In theory, it protects every citizen – left, right, or apolitical – from interference and censorship. Yet anyone following today’s debates can see that this ideal is under growing pressure. The freedom to speak and write is no longer universally safeguarded; it is increasingly conditional. And the conditions appear, more often than not, to be defined by dominant ideological frameworks.

This dynamic is not confined to the debate on antisemitism or Israel. Similar asymmetries appear in controversies around gender identity, climate activism, and religious criticism. Writers such as J.K. Rowling have faced professional boycotts for expressing concerns about gender policy, while comedians admit they avoid certain religious topics out of fear. Climate scientists and sceptics alike have seen their views marginalised when they failed to align neatly with prevailing narratives. These examples suggest a broader pattern: freedom of speech is tolerated only when it fits the dominant cultural lens. The following cases should be read as illustrative examples: they highlight how selective mechanisms operate, without implying that the problem is confined to one specific domain or conflict.

We live in an era in which dissenting views are not simply contested, but demonised. Those who fall outside the progressive consensus risk being cancelled, threatened, or even physically attacked. Rather than facilitating open debate, freedom of expression is being reshaped into a privilege – reserved only for those who conform to progressive orthodoxy. In this sense, what was once a universal right is being redefined into a selective instrument, wielded by those in cultural power to silence inconvenient voices.

At the same time, the role of digital platforms has become decisive. Algorithms amplify polarisation by locking users into echo chambers, while platform moderation often applies asymmetrically – silencing some voices while allowing incendiary speech from others. As a result, the conditions for participation in the public sphere are increasingly shaped not only by governments or institutions, but also by private corporations and opaque technologies.

This article argues that freedom of speech, far from being a universal principle, is in practice instrumentalised. Through a series of cases, it shows how dissenting views are delegitimised, how excuses of neutrality or safety are invoked selectively, and how digital infrastructures reinforce these asymmetries. The challenge of our time is not to suppress opinions we dislike, but to preserve the courage to keep debate open – even, and especially, when it is uncomfortable.

The affair of Amit Frenkel

A telling example is the case of Israeli doctor Amit Frenkel. In August 2025, three Dutch university hospitals – Radboud UMC, Leiden UMC and Amsterdam UMC – refused to host his lecture on medical expertise in mass-casualty situations. Officially, the reasons given were neutrality and security concerns. But the public debate centred on something else: Frenkel was believed to have been barred because he is Israeli, at a time when pro-Palestinian activists were exerting heavy pressure (Skipr, 2025; Nationale Zorggids, 2025).

The message was clear: a doctor with life-saving expertise was silenced, not because of what he wished to say, but because his nationality and context did not fit the prevailing ideological climate. Whether or not security arguments were decisive, the perception in public debate was that geopolitical context, rather than academic content, determined access to the stage.The right to speak proved not to be universal, but dependent on the colour of the flag behind his name.

Charlie Kirk: A deadly precedent

Across the Atlantic, a tragedy highlighted this problem even more starkly. Conservative activist Charlie Kirk was shot dead during a campus lecture on 10 September 2025. The news sent shockwaves, but perhaps even more shocking were the reactions online. On X, countless posts appeared celebrating or justifying his death. Some went so far as to claim he had “deserved it” because of his political views (Reuters, 2025; The Guardian, 2025). This illustrates how reactions to violent suppression of speech are themselves filtered through ideological lenses: the acceptability of violence appeared to depend on political alignment.

The implication is chilling: for part of the public, freedom of speech applies only if one holds the “right” opinions. Those who do not are denied not only the right to speak, but even the right to live without threat.

Demonisation and calls to violence

Closer to home, the normalisation of incendiary language is also becoming evident. In the Netherlands, Radboud lecturer Harry Pettit caused uproar after repeatedly posting antisemitic and anti-Israel slogans on X, including “fuck Israel” and wishing for the disappearance of the State of Israel (AD, 2025). This prompted parliamentary questions and fierce debate (Tweede Kamer, 2025). Yet, strikingly, firm institutional boundaries were largely absent.

This stands in stark contrast to the Frenkel case: while an Israeli doctor was excluded from university platforms, a lecturer calling for Israel’s eradication was allowed to continue largely unchallenged. The message is clear: progressive or pro-Palestinian utterances are tolerated, even when incendiary, whereas pro-Israel voices are silenced.

The cultural boycott

A similar pattern can be seen in academia and the cultural sector. In June 2025, Erasmus University Rotterdam severed its partnership with three Israeli universities (NL Times, 2025). Internationally, further examples followed: European festivals cancelled concerts by Israeli musicians and conductors (The Times, 2025), while universities announced plans to cut ties with Israeli institutions (EUobserver, 2024).

What is remarkable is the absence of a comparable response towards pro-Palestinian activists who use slogans such as “from the river to the sea” or even “FIFA Intifada”, which openly glorify violence (AD, 2024). The asymmetry is impossible to ignore.

Beyond the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, similar patterns emerge in other debates. In the field of gender politics, feminist authors such as J.K. Rowling have faced organised boycotts and public vilification for expressing concerns about gender identity policies. While her position can be criticised, the intensity of the backlash – including calls for professional exclusion – raises the same question: is dissent still permissible? Likewise, climate scientists and sceptics alike have reported forms of marginalisation when their views did not align neatly with the dominant narrative. In both cases, we see how freedom of speech is not defended consistently but filtered through prevailing ideological lenses (Benkler, Faris, & Roberts, 2018; Tufekci, 2017).

The moralising tone of progressive leaders

This selective application of freedom of speech is reinforced by the moralising tone of progressive leaders. When the director of Oxfam Novib systematically portrayed Israel as the aggressor on social media in 2023 (NRC, 2023), he faced little pushback. On the contrary, within his own circles he was applauded.

The problem is that criticism is allowed only in one direction: Israel can be the target, but those who speak in its defence or express a conservative perspective are branded as dangerous, suspect, or immoral. The key point is the asymmetry: criticism in one direction met with applause, while opposing positions encountered delegitimisation.

Fear and self-censorship

The consequences are felt even in the cultural sphere. Satirist Arjen Lubach admitted in September 2025, during De Ongelooflijke Podcast (NPO Radio 1), that comedians in the Netherlands scarcely dare to joke about Islam, fearing threats or worse (NPO Radio 1, 2025). By contrast, Christianity or right-wing politicians remain fair game.

Politicians experience this disparity daily. Geert Wilders has lived under permanent security protection for nearly twenty years because of his criticism of Islam. Progressive politicians such as Frans Timmermans or Kati Piri, who openly adopt pro-Palestinian positions, face far fewer risks to their personal safety.

The climate of fear extends beyond satire and politics. Within the Jewish community, students have described deliberately concealing their identity or avoiding debates to escape hostility, a form of self-censorship that undermines their ability to participate fully in academic and social life (Jacobs, 2024). Similar dynamics appear in science. Climate researchers have admitted privately that they hesitate to express doubts or uncertainties, fearing accusations of denialism, while sceptical voices remain silent out of concern for professional marginalisation. In the field of gender debates, feminist scholars who question prevailing policies often face online harassment and professional exclusion. These examples show that self-censorship is not an isolated phenomenon but a structural response to an environment where dissent invites punishment rather than debate.

The role of religious Leadership

What makes this situation all the more troubling is that even within the Jewish community, leadership has not always clearly articulated the dangers of curtailed free expression. Dutch Chief Rabbi Binyomin Jacobs has, in interviews and public statements, regularly emphasised that antisemitism “has always existed” and that the current situation should not be exaggerated (Trouw, 2023). This suggests that the growing fear and insecurity felt by many Jews in the Netherlands is merely a matter of perception.

For a community increasingly confronted with boycotts, threats, and demonisation, such a relativising attitude is difficult to understand. Where one might expect a religious leader to demand the protection of Jewish and Israeli voices in public debate, the message instead appears to be that concerns are overstated. The result is that Jewish insecurity is not acknowledged, but partly trivialised. Such statements, in public interviews, gave the impression of minimising current fears, even if later communications showed a stronger condemnation.

An additional example can be found in comments Jacobs made after violent incidents involving Israeli football fans in Amsterdam. In October 2024, he told Ynetnews that he would not classify these events as a “pogrom”, since a pogrom, in his view, could only be organised by a government or a church (Ynetnews, 2024). In doing so, he implicitly minimised the severity of the violence. Shortly thereafter, however, Jacobs co-signed a European Jewish Association statement condemning the assaults as a “cancer of Jew-hate” spreading across the continent, stressing that Jews in the Netherlands were afraid to use public transport (European Jewish Association, 2024). This shift from minimisation to condemnation underscores the ambivalence of leadership, weakening the public signal.

Similarly, Rabbi Yanki Jacobs, Chabad representative in the Netherlands and son of the Chief Rabbi, has been more outspoken. In a December 2024 blog on The Times of Israel, he warned that Jewish and Israeli students face structural exclusion and social pressure at Dutch universities. He described how students deliberately isolated themselves in cafeterias to avoid hostile comments from peers (Jacobs, 2024). His observations highlight that younger generations of Jews already feel unable to participate openly in public life – further underscoring the urgency of strong leadership. His blog positioned the challenges of Jewish students squarely in the public debate, highlighting exclusionary dynamics at universities.

Freedom of speech as a selective excuse

Strikingly, the appeal to freedom of speech is often deployed selectively. University boards in the Netherlands frequently state that radical pro-Palestinian activists are entitled to a platform, even when their expressions provoke fierce opposition. Amsterdam’s mayor Femke Halsema repeatedly chose to allow pro-Palestinian demonstrations, even when chants widely perceived as antisemitic or incendiary were heard (Het Parool, 2023).

Yet when Jewish or Israeli speakers seek a platform, the reasoning abruptly changes. Suddenly, the risks of unrest or safety concerns are cited, and they are denied a stage. This double standard exposes how freedom of speech is in practice instrumentalised: used as an excuse to protect radical progressive voices, and as a justification to exclude Jewish and Israeli ones.

The frequently invoked excuses of neutrality and safety deserve closer scrutiny. Neutrality is often presented as an objective criterion, yet in practice it functions selectively: when speakers align with progressive causes, institutional leaders argue that freedom of speech demands tolerance; when speakers defend conservative or pro-Israel perspectives, neutrality suddenly requires exclusion. The safety argument follows a similar pattern. While institutions claim to protect against unrest, this logic effectively rewards those who threaten violence and punishes those who might provoke it by their mere presence. As Habermas (1996) already warned, a democracy that gives in to intimidation undermines its own legitimacy, since it fails to uphold rights where they are most contested. 

Algorithms and the digital asymmetry of free speech

These asymmetries are amplified in the digital sphere. Algorithms on platforms such as X, YouTube, and TikTok do not merely reflect public debate; they actively shape it by privileging engagement over balance. Research shows that echo chambers intensify when users are repeatedly exposed to like-minded views, reinforcing ideological polarisation (Sunstein, 2017; Balkin, 2018). Platform moderation adds a further layer of inequality: conservative voices have been suspended or “shadow banned” for controversial remarks, while hashtags glorifying violence against Israel or celebrating political assassinations remained online for extended periods. This reveals a troubling reality: the boundaries of free speech are no longer defined only by democratic institutions but by private corporations whose opaque algorithms and policies wield disproportionate power over public discourse (Tufekci, 2017; Benkler et al., 2018).

The democratic paradox

These examples point to a fundamental paradox. In our time, freedom of speech is not defended as a universal principle, but rather used as a weapon. The right is claimed by one political side to legitimise its own views, while delegitimising those of others.

The Italian thinker Antonio Gramsci (1971) described this in terms of cultural hegemony: a condition in which the dominant ideology determines which views are acceptable and which are excluded. Today, we see this reflected in the way progressive elites impose their moral frameworks. Conservative, religiously critical, or pro-Israel voices are cast as dangerous; progressive voices are given space, even when they openly advocate violence.

The consequences are threefold. First, erosion of trust: citizens perceive that institutions apply rights selectively. Second, self-censorship: those who dissent prefer to remain silent. Third, the normalisation of violent rhetoric: when demonising opponents becomes socially acceptable, the risk of actual aggression grows (Sunstein, 2017; Lukianoff & Haidt, 2018).

Conclusion

Freedom of speech is not a privilege for progressive voices. It is a universal right – or it ought to be. Yet the evidence presented here – from the silencing of Israeli doctors, to the vilification of conservative activists, to the tolerance of incendiary slogans in academia and culture – shows that this right is increasingly conditional. And the pattern is not confined to one domain. Similar dynamics are visible in debates on gender identity, climate, and religion, where dissenting voices face boycotts, threats, or social exclusion.

Equally troubling are the excuses used to justify these asymmetries. Appeals to neutrality or security are applied selectively, protecting some voices while excluding others. Such reasoning rewards intimidation and undermines the very legitimacy of democratic institutions.

Finally, the digital sphere magnifies these problems. Algorithms lock citizens into echo chambers, while opaque platform policies enforce moderation asymmetrically. In effect, private corporations now determine which speech is visible, which is silenced, and which is amplified – a power with profound consequences for democracy.

The challenge of our time is therefore threefold: to resist ideological selectivity, to reject excuses that mask censorship, and to demand transparency and consistency in the digital public sphere. Only by defending freedom of speech across all domains, and by applying it consistently regardless of political colour or platform, can democracy endure. The case studies presented here illustrate that such consistency is not self-evident. They demonstrate how institutional and digital practices shape the boundaries of speech, often in selective ways.