Salford celebrates partnership with Knowledge Equity Network

Good morning, friends and colleagues, and thank you very much for welcoming us in your midst today!

We meet at a time of rising uncertainty—when the idea of the university as a sanctuary of free thought, open dialogue, and a breeding ground for justice and democracy, can no longer be taken for granted. The theme of this symposium—knowledge equity—feels less and less like an academic notion, and more and more like a moral imperative.

Across the world, at an unsettling speed, we are witnessing a silencing and a depreciation of knowledge. In the United States, terms like diversity, equity, and inclusion are being systematically erased from university websites. Research fields like climate science, gender studies, and social justice are being defunded or otherwise politically targeted. Academic freedom is recast as a threat, and conformity is -once again- rewarded over curiosity. But this is not just an American crisis.

Professor Jeroen Geurts from Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam (VU) in the Netherlands with Deputy Vice-Chancellor and Provost Professor Simone Buitendijk

In my home country, the Netherlands, we face our own reckoning. Populist politics thrive. Institutional trust is eroding. We are forced to tune down international admissions, as ‘own country first’ sentiments are to be appeased. At this very moment, historical budget cuts are forcing universities to make impossible choices. Over the coming weeks and months, many colleagues—also at the university that I know best—will lose their jobs. We are not just defending ideas. We are defending livelihoods, futures, and the soul of the university itself.

The rectors of the fourteen Dutch universities are currently drafting a charter, after the Magna Carta Universitatum; only more local of course. This line in the sand, if you will, is to be a collective reaffirmation of academic values like freedom, diversity, equity, and integrity. We feel compelled to draw it now, that it may not yet be too late. 

Still, this can’t and mustn’t be enough.

If only for the simple fact that defence alone is not a vision. If we want to build a different future, a better future, we will have to reach out. Not just to one another, on our collective campuses, or as we are sitting here today, but to those whose voices are now systematically silenced. We can open our institutions and professional networks to scholars in peril or in exile, to students who dare to ask difficult questions, and to all, in fact, who believe that knowledge is meant to serve humanity—not power. Several countries, including the Netherlands I am glad to say, are now securing funds to extend a helping hand to colleagues in need. 

In my work as rector of VU Amsterdam, I find myself often speaking of working towards 'a better world'. I’d even go as far as to say that working towards a better world is what universities are here for. But of course, the onus, then, is on me: 
for what exactly is this better world?

To me, a better world is one in which justice is not charity, but design. Where every individual is invited to belong, where every contribution is seen and valued. Where disagreement does not fracture connection. Where dialogue is the shared work of finding something truer than either of us could have found alone.

To get there, we must learn to see beyond our own worldviews. To enrich our perspectives, by actively seeking out those that we did not know existed. Non-Western philosophies are not peripheral—they are essential. Recently, I discussed with one of our scholars, the African ethic of ubuntu:

"I am because we are." It teaches that freedom is not the right to retreat, but the responsibility to relate. It reminds us that autonomy without solidarity is a hollow promise. On our campus today, we have different student parties fighting over whether or not gender inclusive bathrooms, a rainbow flag in front of the main building, or a strategic plan based on SDGs, is to be considered ‘political indoctrination’ by university leadership. Don’t get me wrong: free speech and expression must be defended at all times, they are hard-won rights. Still, I wonder, what is this freedom we crave: is it a freedom from, or a freedom to? 

Desmond Tutu once said:

"My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together."

That insight is not a footnote. It is a foundation.

At VU Amsterdam, we are trying to make all this tangible. Through our A Broader Mind programme, students are challenged not just to master their disciplinary expertise, but to understand themselves as citizens of a fragile, shared environment. We teach them to think critically, yes—but also compassionately and self-reflectively. We show them that academic rigour and moral courage can go hand in hand.

Our Mixed Classroom model, which is now published and discussed in an international setting, trains both students and staff to navigate disagreement, complexity, and discomfort. We don’t promise harmony: a good dialogue is no picnic! We teach readiness—for exactly those moments when things get tense in the classroom, and truth needs some space to unfold. I recently had the pleasure of writing a little booklet with a friend. A dialogue about dialogue, entitled: ‘Dancing with the monsters before entering the light’. A strong, uncomfortable dialogue may feel like that, as you and your discussion partner navigate through the landscape of facts and values, beliefs and presuppositions. Reflecting on your own position is hard, as is reflecting on the position of the other, even more so when taking inequalities and preexistent power imbalances into account. In Amsterdam, our new institutional policy plan now focuses on global citizenship. Not because we want every student to travel the world or be acquainted with all cultures, but rather to emphasize that we are all part of a larger system, and we bear responsibility for it.

Our university’s research strategy has moved away from isolated excellence claims, and promotes dynamic, interdependent networks. Not ego, but ecosystem. Stardom making place for solidarity. We are learning, together, how to build knowledge in a communal act. Learning, after all, is relational.

I think we’re beginning to see the first traces of impact of the changes we are making to our education and research. At the Aurora Peacebuilding Conference in Innsbruck, last month, our delegation came back truly inspired! As we sat together in an 'aftermath session', ideas sprouted in a grassroots fashion. I can see now that terms like peacebuilding, science diplomacy, knowledge equity, diversity & inclusion, global citizenship and a broader mind are all interconnected. And they tend to emancipate our scholars, who are starting to feel that we are not just resisting or describing the problem. We are building a solution.

I’m proud of the fact that we are building dialogue into everything now. I believe it’s the way forward. Through our 3D Diversity, Dialogue and Debating centre that works all across campus, several groups of staff and students are developing dialogue strategies based on the newest research insights and applying them to daily struggles. The kind of dialogue we wish to develop is both transformative and practical: focused on learning together, seeking to enrich perspectives, and based in positive psychology and reflexivity. Is this, then, what knowledge equity is all about: creating an environment in which everybody can contribute from their own, unique perspectives, with a common language of discourse that binds us? Knowledge equity through knowledge diversity? 

A lot still needs to be done, and we are but one university, that in no way wishes to pretend to have all the answers. But we are animated by a deep sense of purpose: freedom of thought, independence from dogma, and a natural partnering with society. And my dream—our dream—is to scale that purpose through partnership. To further lock arms with other institutions, other communities, and build an alliance, a positive counter movement, a dynamic network in my favourite terms, not so much of prestige, but of principle.

And so, in addition to drawing lines in the sand and resisting at the right times, this brings me to the positive philosophy that I would like to propose here today: I am hoping for a growing coalition of the willing. A dynamic network, working towards a better world, promoting equity and diversity through knowledge. A beacon of hope. Because when faced with the choice between cynicism, paralysis, and hope—we must always choose hope. Even when it feels fragile. Even when it costs us. Especially then.

At the end of this speech, then, I will quote a very wise wizard who, as usual, foresaw it all: “Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, Harry. If one only remembers to turn on the light.”

Thank you very much.