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Up in Arms: How the Dutch State Promotes Militarization and How Art Workers Can Stand Against It

The Van Gogh Museum recently asked the government for €2.5 million to cover essential maintenance. They were denied.[1] This refusal is especially striking given the government’s original pledge to the Van Gogh Foundation to build and permanently maintain the museum in exchange for the profits generated by its visitors, a commitment that now appears increasingly deferred, if not quietly abandoned. Meanwhile, the Netherlands is spending roughly €25 billion on defense this year.[2] That is ten thousand times more than the amount needed to keep the country’s most visited museum running smoothly.

And if the Dutch political scene can’t even fork the funds to safeguard their Van Goghs, you can imagine what the situation is among living artists when it comes to the interests of the military industrial complex.

Across the Dutch cultural sector, independent institutions close programs or face cutbacks, freelance artists scramble for grants, and those emerging into the scene navigate fewer residencies and shrinking opportunities. Yet at the same time, artists are expected to step into high-profile exhibitions, join NATO-backed mural competitions,[3] and lend their labor to cultural diplomacy that implicitly normalizes militarized agendas.[4] Seems in present times, the only way out is through quiet complicity. At least if you want to make a living! It’s either that or calculated political neutrality.

This is not a hypothetical ethical question. It is a lived tension for artists in the Netherlands: how to survive and build a career without becoming complicit in a system that increasingly ties culture to militarization. Neutrality is no longer a valid stance. Choosing to participate can mean contributing to artwashing. Choosing to withdraw can risk funding, visibility, and professional survival.

In this essay, I trace how budgets, venues, exhibitions, and funding structures entangle Dutch visual arts with militarization. I examine examples of artwashing, institutional neutrality, and state-backed cultural programs, and explore how artists are forced to navigate these pressures through refusal, boycott, and collective action.

20/11/2025




Cultural Workers Unite and VETO Oorlog are actively raising funds to protest against the arms fair. In order to raise funds, they are selling t-shirts featuring this illustration. Contact @cultural.workers.unite and @veto.oorlog via socials for more info.

The Dutch Cultural Sector Under Pressure, Budget Cuts, and Rising Defense Expenditure

The financial pressure on Dutch cultural institutions is nothing new. In fact, more than a decade ago, with the budget cuts from 2011, the Dutch scene saw its programming slashed. What is new is the direction funding seems to be going in as it leaves the arts sector. Recent cuts of approximately €200 million to domestic cultural programs[5] coincide with a national defense budget projected to reach €25 billion in 2025.[2] These numbers highlight the stark prioritization of militarized spending over cultural and social investment.

The real impact of these budgetary decisions is visible across the field. Nominal cultural spending grew by roughly 34.7 percent between 2015 and 2023, yet inflation of approximately 26 percent has meant a real decrease in institutional and individual purchasing power.[6] Private contributions have dropped from around €100 million pre-COVID to approximately €60 million in 2022.[6] Even municipal cultural spending per inhabitant, which increased from €108 in 2017 to €127 in 2023, has not compensated for inflation or the growing demands on arts institutions.[6]

For established freelance artists, emerging ones, and visual art institutional staff, the result is precarious work, fewer opportunities, and heightened competition for positions, grants and residencies. At the same time, many are expected to participate in high-profile exhibitions or programs that may be ethically compromised. This creates an environment where financial survival and professional visibility are intimately tied to engagement with state-backed initiatives, not always in a positive sense.

The consolidation of major art fairs has intensified these pressures. Art Rotterdam’s 26th edition will take place in Rotterdam Ahoy in 2026, combining both the emerging artist Prospects program and Unseen Photo Fair.[7][8] This year’s edition, minus Unseen, already graced the spaces of Ahoy. While the move increases logistical capacity and audience reach, which seems to be how the organizers frame it, it also situates the fair alongside the NEDS Arms Fair,[9] a venue linked to the defense industry. This intersection creates a profound ethical dilemma: participating in these spaces can enhance visibility and career opportunities, but it can also be interpreted as tacit support for militarized agendas. Even more so as Ahoy Rotterdam flattens the discourse around what it does. It hosts everything and anything to the point where targeted critique might seem superfluous.

Collective Refusal. “No Neutral Space.” 2025

Artists who rely on grants, such as those from the Mondriaan Fund, face an additional layer of vulnerability. They are the ones getting the Artist Start grant and are then automatically included in the Prospects exhibition every year. Refusal to participate in this high-profile display risks funding and professional advancement, something artists are hyper aware of, for some this being the first chance to break through. While participation can compromise their ethical integrity. This has already happened in 2025 when the Prospects artists saw themselves dragged into Ahoy, and some also made statements against their complicity in militarization. The result is a precarious system in which structural dependency constrains freedom of artistic and moral choice.

The structural pressures of shrinking budgets and venue monopolization shape everyday decisions for Dutch-based artists. Smaller galleries and independent institutions struggle financially, while larger venues dominate visibility. In practice, this means that ethical considerations such as refusing a commission, criticizing an institution, or a funding body such as the Mondriaan Fund, or declining to participate, can carry substantial professional and economic consequences. Neutrality, in this context, becomes a survival strategy but simultaneously functions as complicity.

The pressures outlined in this chapter set the stage for understanding how artwashing operates within the Dutch arts ecosystem. The next chapter examines specific cases in which cultural diplomacy, institutional behavior, and state-backed programming intertwine with militarization.

NATO mural competition protest initiative

Cultural Diplomacy and Artwashing in the Dutch Context

Artwashing, broadly defined, is the use of art to distract from, legitimize, or sanitize harmful practices.[10] In the Netherlands, this is seen operating at multiple levels: through youth competitions, institutional “neutrality,” and programs framed as cultural diplomacy. The effect is subtle but pervasive, shaping perception and pressuring artists to participate without critically assessing the political stakes, and denying having a political stance for the sake of survival.

A clear example is the NATO youth mural competition that took place this year, in 2025.[3] Framed as a cultural project fostering creativity and civic engagement, it functioned simultaneously as a soft-power initiative to cultivate public support for militarization. By inviting artists to engage with the language of ‘shared security,’ the project normalized military alliances as civic virtues. The event demonstrates the mechanics of artwashing: a cultural gesture presented as neutral, yet inherently political, and tied to state agendas.

Institutional behavior reinforces this pattern. The Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, for example, refused to allow Bakunin’s Barricade to operate as a functioning barricade in 2024 in protest against ongoing genocide in Palestine.[11] Framed as neutrality, the decision avoided confronting the ethical stakes embedded in the artwork. Artists who spoke out faced professional and reputational risks, highlighting how ethical discernment in the Dutch context carries tangible consequences. Neutrality, in effect, in this case, becomes a tool for preserving institutional legitimacy while avoiding moral accountability. Another year and a half in, the Stedelijk still hasn’t spoken out on the matter or joined a boycott.

Dutch cultural diplomacy further demonstrates systemic pressures. Programs linking culture with national trade, security initiatives, and international representation create incentives for institutions to present themselves as neutral while advancing state priorities.[12] A clear historical parallel is the Brand Israel program, in which Israeli cultural institutions were mobilized to promote a positive image of the state abroad, despite ongoing occupation and systemic violence. Brand Israel had its deployment in the Netherlands and funded trips to Israel for Dutch cultural workers under the name Kunsten Israel.[13] Participation in these programs may appear benign, yet it contributes to the broader legitimization of militarization and systemic inequality. Artists and other cultural workers navigating this terrain must assess the implications of their engagement not only for themselves, but for the broader networks of cultural legitimacy in which they operate.

Taken together, these examples, NATO competitions, the Stedelijk Museum’s decisions, and state-backed cultural diplomacy, illustrate what the spectrum of artwashing can be in the Dutch context. They show how culture can be instrumentalized to support militarization, and how the burden of ethical discernment increasingly falls on individual artists and collectives.

"No Business As Usual." Cultural Boycott Israel campaign in The Netherlands and Belgium

Refusal, Boycott, and Collective Action

Cultural boycotts provide a mechanism for ethical intervention. Initiatives such as the Dutch/Belgian No Business as Usual cultural boycott of Israeli institutions demonstrate how artists and cultural workers can target institutional complicity without punishing individuals.[14] These boycotts focus on entities that sustain systemic injustice, drawing public attention to complicity while leveraging the moral and symbolic influence of cultural prestige.

In the Dutch context, another example of collective organizing against art washing is represented by Collective Refusal, which has emerged as a model for principled action. Notably, the petition initiated by Collective Refusal opposing Ahoy’s hosting of the NEDS Arms Fair exemplifies the ways in which collective action can pressure institutions to acknowledge complicity.[9] One should note that the starting artists platformed by Prospects are now being, without their consent, made complicit with the move to Ahoy that Mondriaan Fund made, Ahoy being the same venue hosting an arms fair.

In this context, artists taking principled stands face real consequences. There is a reason why Collective Refusal posted their petition and statements anonymously. There’s also a reason why the initiators of the No Business as Usual initiative waited to have a critical mass before going public. And even then, they faced criticism from within the field for daring to initiate a boycott against the genocide committed by Israel in Palestine.[15]

Collective Refusal. “No Neutral Space.” 2025

There’s no doubt that grants, commissions, exhibition invitations, and professional networks may be affected when artists decline participation in high-profile venues or publicly critique institutions. And the fear of doing so brings a chilling effect to the field. For those that dare, there’s always the question of their practice in the long run on the line, on top of its inherent precarity. Despite these risks, withdrawal and public dissent remain essential tools for maintaining ethical integrity.

Organizing collectively amplifies both moral clarity and impact, while reducing the isolation experienced by individual artists. Ethical visibility also requires research and rigor. Mapping funding flows, tracing institutional affiliations, and analyzing sponsorship structures allow artists to articulate critique with precision, reinforcing accountability and creating pressure for institutional reform. Yet not all artists have the skills to carry these initiatives through, but they do remain with the discomfort and the fear to react.

Together, boycott, collective action, and ethical visibility form a coherent strategy for resistance. While these measures may carry financial or professional cost, they preserve culture as a space for critique rather than co-option. In a context where neutrality increasingly equates to complicity, these strategies are vital for sustaining both ethical and artistic integrity.

An anecdote

On 11 November 2025, the Luxor Theatre in Rotterdam rolled out the red carpet for former U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken, one of the central architects of continued U.S. military support for Israel throughout the devastation in Gaza, a policy many human-rights groups and millions around the world denounce as enabling atrocities. Outside the theatre, cultural workers and other activists gathered in defiance. Inside? As it later turned out, at least one Rotterdam cultural worker was perfectly comfortable applauding along.

That insider was Wim Pijbes. The Instagram account of the Droom en Daad director – whose institution finances major cultural projects in Rotterdam, including the building for the Fenix Migration Museum[16], posted a breathless quote from Blinken later that day: “I believe in the power of art, breaking down boundaries, and music as a connection tool.” The post was set, almost comically, to Oasis’s Don’t Look Back in Anger.

This would already be tone-deaf coming from anyone. Coming from the head of a cultural funding empire, quoting a deeply controversial statesman during an ongoing humanitarian catastrophe, it lands like a provocation. Blinken’s family ties to elite philanthropy and early investment in the State of Israel,[17] and his own hobbyist musician persona,[18] only sharpen the absurdity of the romantic veneer.

Comments poured in overnight. By morning, the post had vanished. If not for screenshots, Pijbes’ brief attempt at polishing Blinken’s image with a pop soundtrack would have been erased entirely.

And this brings us to a question that has been simmering beneath Rotterdam’s cultural scene for months: Why did the Fenix Migration Museum, opening on May 15th, a date internationally recognized as the anniversary of the Nakba, choose not to acknowledge that history? With Pijbes’ political affinities now on full display, the omission feels less like an oversight and more like a deliberate boundary of ‘acceptable narratives.’

Let’s drop the pretense: museums are not neutral. The people who fund them are not neutral. And this latest episode simply tears away the last shreds of polite ambiguity. Pijbes has never exactly been coy about his alignment with Western power structures. The real story is how boldly he now flaunts it.

Meanwhile, the cultural institutions he oversees or bankrolls – International Film Festival Rotterdam, Kunstinstituut Melly, the ever-expanding constellation of Droom en Daad projects – continue to present themselves as champions of diversity and inclusion. But whose diversity? Inclusion of what, and exclusion of whom?

Consider the sculpture Moments Contained by Thomas J. Price at Stationplein, celebrated as a progressive symbol yet funded under a regime of money whose political provenance no one seems eager to question. Or consider Droom en Daad’s Makersloket during Covid: a flurry of small grants for struggling artists, concluded with a handshake from Pijbes at a borrel. Artists could apply so long as their work did not have a “predominantly political or religious objective.”[19] In other words: we’ll fund you, just as long as you don’t challenge anything.

A familiar story: politics for the powerful; hush money for the rest.

This case illustrates how cultural influence, philanthropy, and political alignment shape the limits of acceptable discourse within Dutch cultural institutions. It highlights how individual actions by powerful figures can ripple through the sector, narrowing the scope for ethical engagement and reinforcing the pressures that compel artists and institutions to self-censor in the name of neutrality.

Building Coalitions Across Artists and Activists

Resistance in the Dutch arts field is rarely effective when undertaken alone that much is obvious. But it’s also a matter of who one finds as allies. And you don’t have to stick to your working field. The ethical dilemmas posed by shrinking budgets, venue monopolization, and the co-option of culture by militarized agendas have inspired new forms of coalition-building across organizing groups, student unions, activist networks, and artist collectives. These alliances illustrate that principled action is stronger when shared, and that collective strategies can mitigate the risks that individual artists face. Together we are stronger, and that together doesn’t have to mean just artists!

One strong example is the boycott of the NATO youth mural competition coordinated by Cultural Workers Unite, the KABK Student Union, and the Resist NATO initiative.[20] With the NATO summit that took place in June earlier this year, The Hague positioned itself as a hub for militarized diplomacy while framing the city as a space of creative expression. The mural competition was presented as an opportunity for young artists to engage with public space, but it functioned as a classic case of artwashing: co-opting creative labor to normalize militarized agendas.

The coalition response turned the tables. Artists were encouraged to submit anti-war designs to the competition inbox and to post them online, tagging @thehaguestreetart and using #NoToNATO.[20] This creative, coordinated intervention leveraged both visibility and collective voice, asserting that cultural labor cannot be neutral when deployed to sanitize violence. By acting collectively, these groups reduced individual risk while amplifying impact, showing how principled dissent can operate strategically within the public sphere.

At the same time, VETO Oorlog has been organizing for years to protest the NEDS Arms Fair in Rotterdam.[21] The initiative has consistently highlighted how Dutch venues such as Rotterdam Ahoy become spaces where culture and militarization intersect. VETO Oorlog’s efforts illustrate that resistance is not limited to high-profile competitions but can also involve sustained campaigns targeting systemic complicity. Like the NATO mural boycott, this work relies on coalition-building: artists, cultural workers, and activist groups unite to make ethical interventions more visible and impactful, emphasizing that resistance is strongest when it spans multiple sectors and tactics. This year’s protest highlights precisely this broad coalition, as Collective Refusal joins VETO Oorlog and Cultural Workers Unite alongside many others.

Both examples underscore a crucial lesson for the Dutch arts ecosystem: principled refusal is not simply about individual acts of dissent, but about building networks of accountability. When students, emerging artists, professionals, and activist groups coordinate their efforts, they create leverage that can challenge institutions, state-backed programs, and militarized agendas, while also keeping a sense of camaraderie and lightness. These coalitions bridge the gap between activism and art, showing that cultural work can simultaneously preserve integrity, demand accountability, and sustain the field as a site of critique rather than complicity.

Protest against the NEDS Arms Fair, taking place at Rotterdam Ahoy, 20 November 2025

The Only Way Forward Is Collective Action

The Dutch visual arts landscape makes one thing clear: neutrality is no longer a safe or ethical position. Participation without scrutiny risks complicity, while individual refusal carries personal and professional cost. The only sustainable path forward is collective. Artists, cultural institutions, and activist groups must build coalitions that bridge the spheres of art and social justice. Examples of this happening are already at play and many more are necessary, urgent.

Recent events in Rotterdam underscore why this collective approach is essential. The episode in which Wim Pijbes publicly celebrated remarks by Antony Blinken, only to delete the post after criticism, demonstrated how easily cultural authority can align with geopolitical power while institutions maintain the façade of neutrality. The silence surrounding this incident, along with the Fenix Migration Museum’s decision to omit any reference to the Nakba despite opening on its anniversary, reveals how institutional narratives are actively shaped by those who fund and govern them. These choices reinforce a climate in which political alignment is normalized at the top, while artists and cultural workers lower in the hierarchy are expected to remain “neutral” to safeguard their livelihoods. Such moments make visible the very pressures of how power constrains the field, and why artists acting alone cannot meaningfully resist these dynamics.

Coalitions amplify dissent, distribute risk, and create visibility for principled resistance. When art institutions join forces with collectives of artists who refuse to participate in militarized programs, they strengthen ethical and strategic impact. Whether it is boycotting a NATO mural competition, protesting arms fairs, or challenging the neutrality of major museums, coordinated action demonstrates that culture can be a frontline for accountability rather than a tool for artwashing.

The Dutch example shows that ethical engagement in the arts is inherently collective. Artists cannot bear the weight of complicity alone, nor can institutions claim neutrality while benefiting from militarized agendas. By building networks of solidarity and coordinated action, the arts field can maintain its integrity, resist co-option, and assert culture as a space for critique, reflection, and principled intervention. While the basis for this is also the fact that large institutions like the Mondriaan Fund shouldn’t place cultural workers in contexts of complicity with militarization.

Ultimately, coalition-building is not merely tactical, it is moral. In a landscape where budgets, venues, and funding are increasingly dragging us into an economy of war, or shutting our eyes and ears to it, collective refusal and organized resistance are the only ways to ensure that culture does not become complicit in violence, and that artists retain the capacity to act ethically, visibly, and effectively.

 

 


Footnotes

[1] WSWS. “Dutch culture funding crisis deepens.” 2025.
https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2025/10/24/gogh-o24.html

[2] BBC News. “Europe moves to a ‘war economy’ amid rising tensions.” 2025.
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cly41x7eg71o.amp

[3] NATO. “NATO Youth Mural Competition 2025: maintaining our shared future.” 2025.
https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/news_232961.htm

[4] De Goede Zaak. “Oorlogprofiteurs niet welkom in Rotterdam: stop de NEDS wapenbeurs.” 2025. https://actie.degoedezaak.org/petitions/oorlogprofiteurs-niet-welkom-in-rotterdam-stop-de-neds-wapenbeurs

[5] The Art Newspaper. “Big Art Slowdown: Dutch culture funding crisis.” 2025.
https://www.theartnewspaper.com/2025/03/14/big-art-slowdown-dutch-culture%20funding-crisis-bruegel-hunters-in-the-snow-podcast

[6] Cultuurmonitor. “Cultural budgets and financial flows in the Netherlands.” 2025.
https://www.cultuurmonitor.nl/en/thema/cultuur-en-geldstromen/

[7] Unseen Photo. “Unseen and Art Rotterdam join forces, starting in March 2026.” 2025.
https://unseenphoto.com/article/unseen-and-art-rotterdam-join-forces-starting-in-march-2026

[8] Art Rotterdam. “Art Rotterdam celebrates its 26th edition at new location Rotterdam Ahoy.” 2024.
https://www.artrotterdam.com/2024/10/29/art-rotterdam-celebrates-its-26th-edition-at-new-location-rotterdam-ahoy/

[9] Collective Refusal. “No Neutral Space.” 2025.
https://noneutralspace.org/

[10] “Artwashing.” Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artwashing

[11] The Office of Alina Lupu. “How the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam refused to let ‘Bakunin’s Barricade’ be an actual barricade against the ongoing genocide.” 2024.
https://theofficeofalinalupu.com/printed-matter/how-the-stedelijk-museum-amsterdam-refused-to-let-bakunins-barricade-be-an-actual-barricade-against-the-ongoing-genocide/

[12] Prince Claus Fund. “The urgency of cultural development aid amid global cuts.” 2025.
https://princeclausfund.nl/news/the-urgency-of-cultural-development-aid-amid-global-cuts

[13] Art Goss (@artgoss). Instagram post. 8.05.2021
https://www.instagram.com/p/CPBCpgcFJLM/?img_index=7

[14] No Business as Usual. “Cultural Boycott Israel.”
https://cultureleboycotisrael.nu/

[15] Lena van Tijen, Metropolis M, ‘Ongemak is niet voldoende – bij de boycot’, 04.10.2025
https://metropolism.com/nl/opinie/ongemak-is-niet-voldoende-bij-de-boycot/

[16] Senay Boztas. “In Rotterdam, a new art museum explores the city’s rich history of migration.” *The Art Newspaper*, 13 May 2025.
https://www.theartnewspaper.com/2025/05/13/in-rotterdam-a-new-art-museum-explores-the-citys-rich-history-of-migration

[17] “Donald M. Blinken.” Wikipedia, accessed 19 November 2025.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_M._Blinken

[18] Guardian News. “Antony Blinken plays ‘Rockin’ in the Free World’ in Kyiv bar.” YouTube video, posted 15 May 2024.
https://youtu.be/f_oVdz1oNc8?si=M5C9z3O0IfxCu4-9

[19] Timo Demollin. “The Philanthropy Trap.” Platform BK, accessed 19 November 2025.
https://www.platformbk.nl/en/the-philanthropy-trap/

[20] Resist NATO. “Resist NATO Initiative.” International Solidarity. 2025.
https://internationalsolidarity.org/resist-nato/

[21] De Goede Zaak. “VETO Oorlog: Stop de NEDS Wapenbeurs.” 2025.
https://actie.degoedezaak.org/petitions/oorlogprofiteurs-niet-welkom-in-rotterdam-stop-de-neds-wapenbeurs




About Alina Lupu

Alina Lupu is a Romanian-born, Dutch based writer and post-conceptual artist. She looks at the role that images and performative actions have when standing in solidarity through protest against capitalist hegemony and precarity. Here protest has a quite broad definition for her: from acts of civil disobedience, to petitions, debates, and building of counter-capitalist structures of care, creating a series of dialogues on alternatives to exploitative systems. She is also a board member of Platform BK.