Recent articles
Issue #027 Published: 12-11-2019 // Written by: Sebastian Olma
First Aid in Case of Art: 20 Years of OT301 in Context
Rupturing the Urban Fabric It’s been twenty years since a group of activists squatted the old Amsterdam film school on the Overtoom 301. It was 14 November 1999 and the occupation was led by a collective of artists who called themselves EHBK (Eerste Hulp Bij Kunst – First Aid in Case of Art). The name was a pun on the abbreviation for the Dutch emergency services. Nonetheless, it also communicated the ethos of the group: here is a collective that refuses to shy away from organised action should the city’s (sub)cultural infrastructure be threatened. The concrete threat at hand was the eviction of the squat at Onze Lieve Vrouwen Gasthuis, one of the city’s subcultural hotspots at the time, which had left a number of cooperative initiatives homeless. Like many of their comrades in the alternative movements, EHBK was driven by the belief that taking care of Amsterdam’s cultural anti-establishment was a matter of caring for the city as such. Their belief was that a metropolis such as Amsterdam needs rupture along the seams of its regular fabric to produce the colours of a different, more rousing and emancipative urban texture. In their view, where otherwise would novelty, creativity or cultural innovation come from if not from those gript by being singular and uncommon, living otherwise and creating an alternative world of their own? Let’s produce the ruptures in the urban fabric, they said, so that the city can be more colourful. Up until the turn of the millennium, Amsterdam’s cultural scene was largely built on a strong and lively underground scene. Anyone with a shard of interest in the city’s cultural development knows what it owes to the networked infrastructure of squats that hosted a vivacious scene of diverse subcultures. Today’s nightlife sanctuaries such as Melkweg or Paradiso are only a couple of prominent monuments to the significance of the underground for mainstream culture. Perhaps more crucially it was embodied in the speculative delirium that captivated visitors of the Robodock festivals or the sublime weirdness that drew the crowds to each and every spectacle at ADM wharf. These were moments when the ruptures along the seams of the city’s fabric cleft into veritable rabbit holes, inviting Alice and all her friends to tumble down into the wonderland of collective cultural imagination. However, in order to produce these supreme moments of urban bliss, an infrastructure needed to be in place where imagination and weirdness could thrive. Such an infrastructure was provided by Amsterdam’s squats and the culturally rich and diverse projects they hosted. OT301 consciously situated itself within this convention. However, by 1999 when the old film academy on the Overtoom 301 was squatted, the extraordinary period in which underground subculture was the driver and trendsetter for urban popular culture and the arts, was already dimming to a close. While it took another eleven years for the Dutch government’s imprudent ban on squatting to take effect, in 1999 the Internet boom was in full swing and capital was spilling over onto the real estate market. The nineties were the decade in which the development frenzy started, turning our city into the paradise of real estate speculation and unaffordable housing it is today. Prior to that, squatters had played a very positive role in preventing extreme forms of anti-social real estate practices. The gedoogbeleid that effectively decriminalized squatting (in the case when squatters could prove that the building in question had been unoccupied for a year) was a good motivation for owners to keep their property occupied and away from speculation. Amsterdam’s Neoliberal Reconstruction In the nineties, Amsterdam’s city government laid the groundwork for the current neoliberal reconstruction of the city. It soon became clear that squatting and visions of a more inclusive and colourful city were in conflict with the ideological turn that city planning was taking. The wave of evictions, particularly around the Southern shore of the IJ, brought an entire era of cultural dynamism to an abrupt end. Perhaps symptomatic for the nature of the transformation was the conversion of Pakhuis Afrika, then a thriving centre of subculture, into a temple of neoliberal ideology. Where Amsterdam had been famous for a wildly progressive cultural scene within an economically run-down urban environment, it was now time to invest in an infrastructure that could attract creative businesses and technological innovation. This, of course, was the famous credo of the so-called creative class, popularised in the early noughties by the US-American geographer Richard Florida. Florida’s legendary $50.000 a day visit to Amsterdam in 2003 gave the city’s administration the star-sanctioned pseudo-legitimization to lift creativity onto the political agenda. Now, what could be wrong with a policy that makes your city more creative? Indeed, one of the strengths of the creative city argument was that nobody in their right mind could seriously object to something as positive as creativity. To policy makers it was even more attractive as it promised an exciting detour around the complex and often lacklustre issues that city planning generally involves. The problem of course was that the creativity they had in mind was a very specific variety, one that had much more to do with business models and technological innovation than it had with cultural transgression, aesthetic experimentation and collective emancipation. What was lost in Amsterdam’s creative transformation was precisely the measure of autonomy that had made the city Europe’s beacon of cultural creativity. It is a particularly mean historical irony that the culturally rich and dynamic Amsterdam of the nineties that served as a model for Florida’s theory; was all but destroyed by the application of this very theory. The city’s well-intended cultural incubator policy could do relatively little to change the course of things. It was initially intended as a way of containing the catastrophic effects of the evictions of the late nineties and early noughties on the city’s (sub)culture. With the founding of Bureau Broedplaatsen in 2000, the slogan “No Culture without Subculture” became synonymous with official city policy. The early history of OT301 is closely connected to the formation of this policy. Without the support of those edified members of the city administration, civil servants who later shaped and were members of Bureau Broedplaatsen, OT301 would have been promptly evicted. Funding from Bureau Broedplaatsen also supported the renovation of the building and underwrote the loan that allowed EHBK to become collective owners of the place. Yet, while EHBK was clearly a great beneficiary of cultural incubator policy, it is difficult to say whether the policy’s positive effects – such as affordable studio and workspaces for creative professionals – aren’t in fact more than offset by its obvious complicity in the city’s uncompromising gentrification. What Happened to Autonomy? Where then does the trajectory of these last twenty years leave OT301 today? How do we deal with the fact that the two decades of our existence have been a time in which the city has lost much of its autonomous cultural infrastructure, in which the ruptures have been smeared up with a precarious mixture of neoliberal ideology, witless creativity and mammoth amounts of capital? What does it mean to be one of the few remaining spaces in Amsterdam that stays committed to a notion of autonomy even though we understand that our autonomy today is a far cry from the squatters’ ambition to be resolutely independent from the state and market economics? Indeed, what kind of responsibility does it put on our collective shoulders to have been fortunate enough to carve out this sustainable little crevice in the neoliberal city?     These are some of the crucial points of issue that OT301’s future practice will need to find effective answers to. One of the things that continue to keep the collective on its toes is its radically democratic form of organisation. In our homonymous 2014 publication we called this “autonomy by dissent”: a cacophony of internal voices that so far have made an integration of the project into the cultural mainstream utterly impossible. This does not mean that OT301 hasn’t contributed at all to the gentrification of our neighbourhood Oud-West. Neither does it preclude the occasional member from joining the ranks of foolish creatives whose work is functionalized by smart city planners. While we are not always fully aware of the ambivalences of all the aspects of our existence, we try to do our best to put the struggle for autonomy back on the agenda. OT301 Today: Taking Responsibility Together An example of our practical attempts to do this is the creation of Amsterdam Alternative by OT301, OCCII, Cinetol and a number of other parties. This is a platform that attempts to create a conversation between the city’s remaining vrijplaasten and the new generation of activist projects that strive for timely practices of autonomy. It started in 2015 as a free, bimonthly newspaper combining subculture listings and journalistic content concerning the city’s (sub)cultural and political developments. Today Amsterdam Alternative has developed into a platform that also organises the AA-talk series as a podium for more direct engagement with current issues. It also includes an initiative on collective ownership with the ambition to fund alternative vrijplaatsen for a new generation of activists who care for the city by creating a thriving underground. While OT301 is an important partner within the Amsterdam Alternative ecosystem, efforts are also made with regard to our internal projects and programmes, to reach out to millennials and post-millennials. EHBK understands its responsibility towards the younger generations. Unfortunately, there are too many former squats in Amsterdam that missed their moment to involve a new generation of activists in their spaces. This is quite a tragedy as these ossified projects have basically been turned into exclusive retirement homes that retrospectively delegitimize Amsterdam’s squatter subculture. Fortunately, OT301 has a multitude of public facing projects that help prevent any signs of cultural sclerosis. On our twentieth birthday, OT301’s activities range from club nights of any imaginable shape or form, to the excellent vegan cuisine at De Peper, from exhibitions, workshops and performances at 4Bid Gallery to the underground and alternative film programme at Cinema of the Damn’d. On offer too is an eclectic mix of aerial gymnastics, dance, martial arts, yoga, therapeutic message and ping-pong nights, a prestigious artist residency, plus ad hoc and regular programming in the individual and collective studio spaces. All of which is done in the spirit of providing the community of guests and members the opportunity to experience an alternative to the vacuous commercial culture that is suffocating our city. Space for Radical Imagination Let’s make no mistake, the timeworn subculture and underground scene are unable to provide the younger generations a template for their struggle for an alternative to the aesthetic poverty of our time. The youth should navigate their own alternative way. What they are up against today are forms of power and control that are more oppressive and opaque than what they were some twenty years ago. Particularly the Internet and social media have turned into instruments of what the British cultural theorist Mark Fisher (aka k-punk) called “consciousness deflation”. This is the opposite of the collective consciousness raising with which the feminist movement enabled women to recognise and then fight against the well-hidden social forms of oppression. Consciousness deflation keeps people in their place by hyper-individualising their existence and teaching them that they are in constant competition with one another. This debilitating brainwash has led to an atmosphere in which it is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of neoliberal capitalism. Fisher spoke of this in terms of “capitalist realism”: an ideology that has convinced us that there is no alternative to seeing every interaction in society as a business transaction. You are, in essence, an entrepreneur of your self; so invest your life in such a way as to make the most profit from it! Those of us who had the great fortune of growing up with the experience of collective action, of imaginative deliria, of being able to create our own underground and subculture have the responsibility of sharing the space we were able to save from the steamroller of capitalist realism. We don’t have all the answers that the youth are looking for but we’ve got spaces from which the struggle against neoliberal consciousness deflation can be waged. What we are able to offer the younger generation is an experience that lies outside the breathless boredom of the creative city. Such an experience of having a safe space outside the commercial mainstream is what shaped us. By opening our spaces to the young we can help them to kill their inner entrepreneur that capitalist realism relentlessly implants. For the big challenges of our time – from the climate crisis to mass migration and the rise of fascism – we need a young generation that understands; and, by the way, understands better than most of us; that we need cultural experimentation combined with radical political imagination. Let’s use our spaces to facilitate a new generation of activists that can rupture the ideology of capitalist realism, smash the great swindle of the creative city, and help build a future that is desirable for all, instead of one for the rich and powerful. This article is part of the book ‘OT301 - 20 Years of Art and Autonomy’. The book can be ordered from Friday 14th of November at ISBN: 9789081786423
Issue #027 Published: 07-11-2019 // Written by: Moneylab
MoneyLab #7: Outside of Finance On feminist economics, social payments, corporate crime and the “blokechain”
14 + 15 November - Tolhuistuin It’s August 2019. After years of inflation, high unemployment rates, and sharply falling living standards, Argentina’s national currency, the Peso, took a nosedive that further deepened its financial despair. Today, Argentina is one of many countries on the brink of yet another recession. Is this Groundhog Day? History repeating itself? Financial asset markets are declining the world over, the US and China are engaged in a trade war and central banks have fueled record levels of corporate and government borrowing over the past ten years. The ‘solutions’ applied to the last debt crisis seem to push the global economy toward the next collapse. Are you ready to descend into yet another economic depression? Since 2013, MoneyLab has been the stage for critical reflection on pressing financial issues. In the upcoming 7th edition, artists, researchers, activists and geeks will gather again to show what role art, activism, feminism, journalism and design are playing in re-thinking money, the critique of finance-tech and the democratization of finance. With a debt crisis looming, many feel the urgency to move away from the legacy powers and monetary institutions of the previous centuries. But what are the alternatives on offer? With workshops, performances, screenings and discussions, MoneyLab#7 will explore what is happening outside of global finance, with a special focus on social payments, value systems and the premises of crypto design. Facebook crashed the crypto-party earlier this year by announcing their faux-chain, Libra currency. With Facebook’s Libra, the whispers of the financialization of the social reached mainstream audiences. Is this a first attempt to copycat China’s WeChat and Alipay? What are the implications of the convergence of a social media monopolist, a crypto currency and a payment system? Is there anything to be learned from the Chinese examples that we comfortably position as doom scenarios from the Other side? How do we intervene in the cycle of competition between old, established players and new financial industries on markets that are still caught in bubble and burst dynamics? Decades into the story of crypto and there’s still a lot of speculation—both in terms of money and concepts—and not a lot of actual, useful cases of practice. Our event will ask: what is now slowly changing? What new business models make developments in fintech possible? Like it or not, the avant-garde of fintech-uptake can be found in the online sex industry, pump ‘n dump schemes, on dark markets, and in corporate cybercrime. What can be learned from the attempts to regulate and reform? What would it take to globally govern blockchains and cryptocurrencies, and is it possible and desirable? As crypto fantasies overflow with the same old biases, the question of who will redefine money remains an urgent one. Needless to say, redesigning the architecture of money cannot be left to libertarian men that dream of autarky. At MoneyLab #7, we will be looking beyond the world of libertarian start-ups aimed at fortifying eroding notions of identity, autonomy, property and copyright. We imagine a crypto economy, fueled by feminist critique and aimed at decolonizing existing power structures, that values care work and focuses on equity and solidarity. And we look at provocative counter-narratives and design strategies that parry the corporatization of digital money, from hyperlocal cryptocurrencies at techno festivals and the SheDAO, to self-organized exchange systems in refugee communities. “Revolution,” Audre Lorde once wrote, “is not a one-time event.” We need to harness group power, work collaboratively from the margins and against the mainstream. Chains of engagement, as Felix Guattari believed, have to be “continually reinvented, started again from scratch.” The aim of MoneyLab #7 is to explore new possibilities to prevent, as Guattari put it, “becoming trapped in a cycle of deathly repetition.” The program closes with a party on Friday night at Mike’s Badhuistheater. With: Micky Lee, Brett Scott, Ana Teixeira Pinto, Reijer Pieter Hendrikse, Malcolm Campbell Verduyn, Josephine Wolff, Thomas Bollen, Lana Swartz, Andrea Fumagalli, Valeria Ferrari, Rachel O’Dwyer, Andy Morales Coto, Ruth Catlow, Denise Thwaites, Ailie Rutherford, Alexandre Laumonier, Eric Barry Drasin, Antonia Hernández, Stephanie Rothenberg, Aude Launay, Gregory Tsardanidis (Synergy), Silvia Díaz Molina (P2P Models), Anne Kervers (Unmuting Money), RYBN, Blockchain and Society Policy Research Lab, Furtherfield & Martin Zeilinger, Mischo Antadze, Emily Martinez. The next MoneyLab events are scheduled in Ljubljana (March 24-25), Helsinki (September) and Canberra (November). For tickets and the program go to
Issue #026 Published: 22-10-2019 // Written by: Nic Burman
Who should pay for English?
  In August, Times Higher Education reported that the government is set to discuss the idea of making Dutch language lessons for international students mandatory. While details on the proposal are still sparse, it seems like another kick in the teeth for universities whose ongoing processes of anglification is thanks to government funding decisions. The results of those decisions are that lesser populated Dutch courses are not financially viable, and so no longer readily available. I’m a native English speaker currently enrolled in an English language programme at a Dutch university, and I actually think that Dutch language lessons for international students would be a nice idea. At the very least, it may give new arrivals more confidence to engage with Dutch peers and local media, which in turn could lead to more meaningful integration, although who and what measures “integration” is a tricky topic. A handful of recent Amsterdam Alternative articles (#20, #22 and #23) have acted as a back-and-forth on the role of “English as a gentrifier”. Indeed, this paper embodies the friction as well as the partial success of the unofficial bilingualism of this city. It was good to see K.D., in their last article “Engels als verdringer of als voertuig van verdringing”, make a distinction between well financed native English speakers and people for whom English is a lingua franca. The experience between these groups is very different, as a lot of international non-native English speakers do (relatively) low paying and low skilled jobs, sometimes because work is more plentiful and financially rewarding here compared to their native countries, but also often to support themselves while they study here. International, English speaking students are set to financially prop up many Dutch higher education institutes over the coming years. This is largely thanks to Dutch government policy, and eighteen to twenty five year olds from outside of the country can hardly be blamed for that. However, there is clearly a growing problem with “internationals” quite detached from native Dutch culture and politics and a growing number of born and bred locals who are feeling increasingly disenfranchised from their home city. If increasing the rate of Dutch language acquisition would be a salve to this open wound, then I think internationals such as myself are required to respect this relatively polite request and be willing to participate. So long as I don’t have to start saluting Willem, light indoctrination programmes are ok for me. Amsterdam’s governing bodies should also stop advertising Amsterdam as an English-friendly city, as this aura of “speaking English is fine” is becoming somewhat misleading. Of course, this is unlikely to happen while Rutte and co. are off commandeering various European Union institutions such as the European Medicines Agency from the British. What we both, internationals and natives, should reject, however, is the idea that universities should be the ones to deal with the consequences of Amsterdam’s position as an internationally-oriented economy. After all, English language students at Dutch universities is a major trend because the Dutch government doesn’t seem to care about properly funding universities. Be sure to read previous articles in this paper by and about student and staff-organised pressure group WOinactie for insights into this phenomenon. It was striking that just a couple of days after the government’s new idea was reported on, it was revealed that US tech firm Uber was set to save up to 6.1bn by transferring the company that looks after its intellectual property rights to Holland from Bermuda (itself in turn owned by a subsidiary still based in Singapore, reported). This is exactly the sort of company that will import English-language staff to Amsterdam on high wages and promises that Amsterdam is an international town where the English language is pretty much native. Rather than pressure cash-strapped universities to fund additional classes with non-existent budgets, why not look to the likes of Uber to fund such provisions? According to Reuters they had a turnover of $11.3 billion in 2018, so even if they don’t make a profit (and therefore don’t pay tax anyway), there’s plenty of money in the bank to hire some classrooms and pay a handful of language teachers. It seems bizarre that a government would further jeopardize the quality of institutions which mean something to the country it governs. Universities such as the VU and the UvA are part of the history of the Netherlands and add cultural and capital value to society. Meanwhile, the same government always seems to make room for shell companies whose only relationship with the country is likely to be seeing its named stamped on their business cards. It is up to the nation that wants to conserve its language to make a plan to secure its place in the world. But when everything costs money the question is: who should pay?
Issue #026 Published: 15-10-2019 // Written by:
Amsterdam Danst Ergens Voor 2019 - Dansen buiten de lijntjes
Zaterdag 19 oktober is het weer zover: dan dansen wij voor de zevende keer dwars door de straten van Amsterdam! Om op te komen voor de vrije, kunstzinnige en experimentele ruimtes die de stad kleur geven. Onze Vrijplaatsen staan onder toenemende druk. De ontruiming van ADM afgelopen januari staat in ons aller geheugen gegrift. Het einde van het huidige Bajesdorp is ook in zicht. Bouwdrift en winstbejag bepalen steeds meer de sfeer en het aanzicht van de stad. Ruimte waar creatieve en maatschappelijke waarde boven financiële waarde staat, is schaars. We moeten strijden voor het behoud van deze plekken, voor een herwaardering van deze onmisbare voedingsbodem van de stad. De linkse coalitie die sinds mei 2018 onze stad bestuurt, spreekt over het beschermen van de geroemde rafelranden. Maar ondertussen worden geen echte daden bij die woorden gevoegd. Daarom is het juist nu extra belangrijk om onze stem te laten horen. Hoe willen wij dat onze toekomstige stad eruit ziet? Sinds 2013 is onze parade gegroeid naar meer dan tien wagens, 40 vrijwilligers en 4000 deelnemers. Dit jaar hebben we voor het eerst extra geld nodig om ADEV te bekostigen. Want dansen voor vrije ruimte is helaas niet gratis. Wel voor de deelnemers, maar niet voor de organisatie. We hebben jouw steun nodig om ADEV dit jaar weer tot een succes te maken. Natuurlijk door samen met ons buiten de lijntjes te dansen. Daarnaast zijn we een crowdfunding campagne gestart om onze stand van knaken te verbeteren. Help jij mee om het geluid van onze vrijplaatsen te versterken? Ga naar en draag bij wat jij kan missen!   Tot 19 oktober! Hou onze website en Facebook pagina in de gaten voor meer informatie.
Online only Published: 12-10-2019 // Written by: Extinction Rebellion
De tijd dringt
Extinction Rebellion NL is begonnen aan de laatste, grootste actie van hun 'Opstand voor het Leven', ditmaal in het hart van Amsterdam. Zojuist is een versierde boot, het symbool van vele Extinction Rebellion acties wereldwijd aangekomen op de Blauwbrug bij de Stopera in Amsterdam. De opstand zorgt sinds maandag voor veel ontregeling in de hoofdstad en heeft nationaal de aandacht gevestigd op de klimaat en ecologische noodtoestand. Sinds maandag zijn de rebellen met door burgerlijke ongehoorzaamheid om disruptie te veroorzaken in de stad, en nationaal de aandacht te vestigen op de klimaat en ecologische noodtoestand. Vanmorgen zijn wederom honderden rebellen de straat op in een gecoördineerde daad van burgerlijke ongehoorzaamheid. In het hart van de hoofdstad hebben honderden burgers zojuist de straten rondom de Stopera bezet om hun eisen aan de overheid kracht bij te zetten. Ze verklaren zich “gewone mensen in ongewone tijden”, en eisen dat de overheid eerlijk is over de ernst van de crisis en nu ambitieuze en bindende doelen stelt voor 2025: netto-nul uitstoot van broeikasgassen en het stoppen van biodiversiteitsverlies, waarbij burgers beslissen over rechtvaardig klimaatbeleid. Extinction Rebellion nodigt iedereen uit om zich vandaag aan te sluiten bij de sit-in. Het gaat niet om ons, maar om de planeet Ondanks de vele kleurrijke acties, 150 arrestaties en enkele honderden 'bestuurlijke verplaatsingen' blijft de nationale politiek deze week angstvallig stil. Dit onderstreept voor Extinction Rebellion dat huidige politieke instituties niet in staat om hun grondwettelijke plicht te vervullen om burgers en milieu te beschermen, waarmee het sociale contract is geschonden. Hierdoor voelen velen zich genoodzaakt om met burgerlijke ongehoorzaamheid hun vrijheid op het spel te zetten voor een leefbare toekomst. De groep stelt voor om de transitie via 'Burgerberaden' vorm te geven, waar een dwarsdoorsnede van de bevolking samen beslist over maatregelen om de doelen voor 2025 te halen. Zo staan boeren en studenten, grootouders en kinderen zij aan zij in het vormgeven van een veilige, en gezonde toekomst, nu het nog kan. “We vragen om een respons vanuit de politiek waarin er officieel een klimaat en ecologische noodtoestand wordt uitgeroepen, en dat hier onmiddellijk naar gehandeld wordt.” Klimaatbeleid drastisch veranderen vraagt om een lange adem Extinction Rebellion NL belooft om door te gaan tot hun eisen ingewilligd zijn met meer grootschalige, liefdevolle acties. De vraag is niet of, maar wanneer. De tijd dringt.”, aldus woordvoerder _____ “Eén actieweek is niet genoeg om de overheid zo ver te krijgen om echt iets aan de klimaatcrisis te doen, dat beseft iedereen binnen XR,” stelt Ernst Jan Kuiper. “Voor deze strijd hebben we een lange adem nodig. Alleen als we een lange adem hebben zullen we een fundamentele verandering teweeg brengen.” De acties van Extinction Rebellion zijn onderdeel van de internationale actie Rebel Without Borders. Niet alleen in Amsterdam, maar in 60 steden wereldwijd vinden acties plaats. In België heeft XR aangekondigd vreedzaam de paleistuin te bezetten, in Engeland zijn tientallen acties gepland gedurende de week. Overal ter wereld komen burgers op voor het leven op aarde omdat overheden nalaten om hun burgers adequaat te beschermen. Wij zijn het klimaatalarm. De overheid moet de eerlijk zijn over de extreme ernst van deze crisis. Lutkemeer Naast acties in de binnenstad steunt Extinction Rebellion vandaag ook Behoud Lutkemeer in hun protest tegen de op handen zijnde bouw van een Schiphol distributiecentrum op de Lutkemeerpolder. Dit project van de Gemeente Amsterdam zal 43 hectaren van bijzonder schaarse, vruchtbare aarde bebouwen en een biologische boerderij verwijderen. Dit ondanks de uitgeroepen klimaatnoodtoestand en de steun die de Gemeente heeft toegezegd voor lokale voedselproductie. In de Lutkemeerblokkade zal Extinction Rebellion NL aanwezig om voor een groene toekomst protesteren met een parade van “Groene Rebellen” die symbool staan voor de bescherming van de levende wereld die ons voedt. “De Lutkemeerpolder is een pijnlijk voorbeeld van hoe economische groei en ‘business as usual’ voorrang krijgen over mitigatie van klimaat verandering, lokale voedselproductie, en meest belangrijk de wil van de lokale gemeenschap” aldus Camille, een van de Groene Rebellen.. “De toekomst kijkt toe: de vruchtbare grond van de Lutkemeer hebben we nodig voor de volgende generaties van Amsterdam en Nederland, niet nog meer distributiecentra”.