What do an American football game and the Dutch welfare state have in common?
What do an American football game and the Dutch welfare state have in common? On the surface, perhaps not much. But if we look closely, we’ll find that both rely on the tireless work of their ‘cheerleaders’. In football, cheerleaders offer encouragement and motivation, helping to build team spirit and unity even when the game gets tough. Similarly, in the Dutch welfare state, welfare professionals act as ‘cheerleaders’, supporting and encouraging residents to persevere despite increasing challenges. In neighborhoods like Amsterdam Zuidoost, where poverty, precarity, discrimination, and distrust of the government are prevalent, these professionals work hard to build a sense of community and resilience. But as their cheerleading efforts become increasingly essential, it may be helpful to ask: does this unwavering positivity truly rally and support residents, or does it prevent from addressing deeper, structural problems?
by Vénicia Sananès
In December 2023, I was invited to spend the day at a small but well-known welfare organization in Amsterdam Zuidoost. Located in the heart of the Bijlmer, this organization offers a welcoming space where residents can drop in to ask questions, receive assistance with paperwork, and participate in a wide range of activities. When I arrived, Lauren,[1] the coordinator, greeted me warmly and invited me to join the Dutch class happening a couple of tables away from her desk in the corner of the room. Hans, the teacher, was deeply engaged with his student, Carlos, both of whom appeared to be in their late fifties. My presence as the new student sparked curiosity, and I found myself answering all sorts of questions about myself. Yes, I have a French accent, but I live in Amsterdam. No, I’m not a student – I’m an anthropologist conducting a four-year PhD research to understand how welfare professionals like Lauren provide social assistance in today’s precarious times. Oh, and absolutely – I’d love to stay and join you all for dinner tonight, in this room that becomes the ‘neighborhood restaurant’ every Wednesday. Thank you!
I then decided it’s only fair to satisfy my own curiosity, especially since I couldn’t quite figure out Hans’ role. Was he a professional Dutch teacher hired by Lauren, a retiree offering his time, or maybe one of those ‘active citizens’[2] volunteering for the community? As my questions kept coming, it seemed like I had backed him into a corner. Finally, Hans admitted, ‘Well, I’m unemployed’.
An awkward silence followed, during which I felt stupid for pushing him too to reveal his unemployed status – clearly a sensitive topic in the Bijlmer. But before I could say anything, Lauren, who had been listening from across the room, interjected, “No, Hans. You’re a volunteeeer!’
This moment from my fieldwork among welfare professionals[3] in Amsterdam Zuidoost exemplifies what I’ve come to call ‘cheerleading’. For professionals – who are mostly women – cheerleading consists of relentlessly supporting, encouraging, and rallying residents to ensure they can participate and persevere in society. During my time in the field, I saw just how essential professionals like Lauren are in fostering team spirit and a sense of community. Through activities like Dutch classes, cooking nights, sewing lessons, or group walks, they create opportunities for neighbors to connect, forming bonds that hope to strengthen the social fabric of the neighborhood.
In the Netherlands, as in much of Europe, communities are increasingly expected to take on roles that were once performed by centralized welfare programs, with the hope that residents will take care of each other, thereby reducing the need for a state that is often seen as distant and impersonal.[4] However, these envisioned communities don’t just form on their own – they need thoughtful cultivation. That’s where professionals step in as community cheerleaders, using their positivity and dedication to rally and energize these self-sustaining, self-caring communities.
Cheerleading also involves another kind of support – what I think of as ‘linguistic engineering’. This isn’t about chants or dances, but about strategically using language to inspire and rally. You might see this in the motivational quotes pinned to organization walls or in the way a professional like Lauren reframes challenges for residents.
While I truly believe that community cheerleaders sincerely value resilience and positivity and genuinely strive to do their best, I’d like to consider how this linguistic tweak, despite its good intentions, ends up reinforcing some problematic assumptions.
This linguistic tweak – volunteering rather than unemployment – puts a positive spin on a precarious status. At the same time, it subtly depoliticizes the precarity of unemployment, suggesting such a condition may be overcome by shifting one’s mindset. Lauren’s ‘linguistic engineering’ therefore makes precarity an individual matter rather than a structural one.[5]
When Lauren edits Hans’ joblessness in a way that emphasizes choice and contribution, it also perpetuates the idea that, here in the Netherlands in this ‘Participation Society’,[6] there are no unemployed people – only ‘self-reliant’ and ‘happy’ volunteers.
This linguistic engineering enables Lauren to bridge the gap between the grim realities of precarity in Zuidoost and the lofty ideals of community-driven welfare that she works so hard to enact. However, it also sustains the narrative of individual responsibility for welfare and sidelines the political nature of structural issues.
Although the work of committed and positive professionals like Lauren is crucial in these increasingly difficult times, I believe that all this positivity often masks deeper, structural issues. Constantly cheering residents on, even when the system falls short, prevents from addressing problems that are often overlooked by state policies and programs. In doing so, professionals help upholding the status quo, something I doubt my interlocutors intend to do, as they see themselves as advocates for residents. The real challenge thus lies in recognizing when their relentless positivity truly supports residents, and when it doesn’t.
In a time when there are a lot of problems at hand, who benefits from overlooking and avoiding discussions about these difficulties? Does this constant cheerleading make the residents’ hardships and marginalization easier to bear, or just easier to ignore? Does it inspire residents to rise above precarious situations, or does it encourage them to swallow injustice and inequality with a positive outlook?
Right now, I’m afraid there is little room for discussing the harsh realities that residents increasingly face. But what if feelings like frustration, disappointment, or anger – which have proved to be catalysts for change – were not only allowed but encouraged?
Instead of normalizing precarity, we must confront the truth: these conditions are unacceptable. Only then can we create a space to rethink and address structural issues collectively, allowing for the formation of louder, more politicized voices.
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Dear cheerleaders,
I hope my research can spark a larger collective conversation – one where we can share our experiences, dilemmas, and even disagreements. Let’s make this a space where feelings simply are – neither positive nor negative, just valued for being shared.
I invite you to reach out and share your thoughts by email at: v.i.l.sananes@uva.nl
With your permission, I’d be honored to publish your responses anonymously, keeping this dialogue alive for as long as it serves you.
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References
[1] All names are pseudonyms.
[2] During my fieldwork, I found few examples of ‘active citizens’ shouldering new welfare responsibilities as described in the scientific literature. Instead, I encountered many dedicated, busy, and often overworked professionals. By framing these welfare professionals as cheerleaders, I aim to highlight their role as the ones who must first be active to encourage residents to become active as well.
[3] For my PhD I am undertaking 10 months of ethnographic fieldwork, conducted in two phases: the first from October 2023 to March 2024, and the second planned for November 2024 to March 2025. The welfare professionals I’ve been shadowing work within social work organizations that provide informal social assistance (informele zorg) to various target groups. Primarily funded by municipal subsidies from the sociale basis budget, these organizations are often staffed by individuals with social work backgrounds who collaborate closely with volunteers.
[4] This is what Nikolas Rose (1999) refers to as ‘governing-through-community’ in his book, Powers of Freedom: Reframing Political Thought. Here, Rose explores how modern governance increasingly relies on empowering communities and individuals to self-manage, thereby shifting responsibilities from the state to society itself.
[5] Josien Arts and Marguerite Van der Berg term this ‘pedagogies of optimism’, which inspired me to develop my idea of cheerleading. ‘Pedagogies of optimism: Teaching to ‘look forward’ in activating welfare programmes in the Netherlands.’ Critical Social Policy 39.1 (2019): 66-86.
[6] The Participation Society (participatiesamenleving) in the Netherlands is a social policy model introduced in 2013 by then-King Willem-Alexander. It marks a shift that encourages citizens to take more responsibility for their own well-being and that of their communities, reducing reliance on traditional welfare programs. Instead of the government being the primary provider of support, the idea is that individuals, families, and neighborhoods should play a larger role in caring for each other, whether through volunteer work, informal caregiving, or community initiatives.
