Universities across Europe and North America have increasingly come under scrutiny for their treatment of academics who speak out against Israeli policies and express solidarity with Palestine. The case of Joseph Daher, a Swiss-Syrian academic at the University of Lausanne, is one such example.
Daher, a scholar specializing in Middle Eastern politics, found himself at the center of controversy when his contract was suddenly not renewed following an investigation into his activities related to Palestine solidarity.
His dismissal raises questions about academic freedom and the increasing vulnerability of academics who engage in political discourse, particularly when it involves criticism of Israel amid a growing pattern in which universities bow to external pressures—whether from governments, media, or donors—leading to censorship and repression of critical voices.
In this interview, Daher shares his experience, detailing the events that led to his dismissal and the wider implications for academic freedom in Europe.
How are you feeling after everything that has happened?
The first few days after the decision of the university have been difficult—losing one of my main sources of income. While struggling against this arbitrary measure and procedure, I am also trying to figure out what to do, including alternative academic work. But now, I’m feeling much better, notably because of the large support from my family, friends, comrades, trade unionists, my lawyer, etc.. and more particularly from colleagues (within and outside the university) and the student movement at the university. The campaign has started quite well. It’s exhausting, but it’s also important to push back. My case isn’t isolated; it’s part of a broader pattern of targeting academics who raise their voices against genocide, Israel’s systematic violations of human rights, and the collaboration of Western states and institutions that enable this.
I received the results of the investigation opened by the university the day after I came back from Syria. I hadn’t been back in 14 years. And when I heard the results, I understood right away that they wanted to kick me out the next day.
Could you walk us through the events that led to the non-renewal of your contract?
Everything started with the war—the genocide—against Palestinians in Gaza. I was involved in solidarity efforts, both inside and outside the university, helping students organize and participating in conferences and mobilisations on Palestine.
Then, in March, an internal complaint was made against me—though officially anonymous, we have suspicions. Three colleagues were called to a meeting with the head of my faculty, who questioned whether my positions on Palestine were scientifically valid and whether I had the academic expertise to speak as a professor on the issue, particularly in the press.
At the University of Lausanne, there’s a rule that professors cannot use their titles outside their field of expertise. The UNIL management was trying to use this against me. My colleagues defended me, pointing out that I have two PhDs in Middle Eastern studies, have done extensive research, and have direct experience in Palestine. The attempt to challenge my scientific expertise failed.
Then came the student occupation. During the protest, I lent my university access card to a student so she could rest, put some personal stuff, and pray in my office. At some point a security guard saw her and told her she shouldn’t do that, and she stopped.
At the time, it wasn’t a major issue. But five months later, the administration used it as a pretext to open an investigation against me. Instead of handling it internally, they outsourced it to a private law firm.
Many professors lend their cards to students, assistants, or guests. It’s common practice, although officially irregular. Yet, in October, the university administration launched a new administrative inquiry. They sent me a rather aggressive email demanding details about my external contracts, giving me only ten days to respond. The objective was to challenge my title as a visiting professor at the university, which is conditional.
I answered everything within the deadline, with the help of the trade union. And then—silence. No response.
In December, I was interrogated for four hours by the law firm conducting the investigation. Then, they tried to expand it based on a Facebook post I had shared—a picture of Jesus Christ wearing a keffiyeh. I asked, What does this have to do with the initial investigation and what am I accused of? They eventually dropped that charge, but it was clear by then that their goal was to push me out before January 31st.
Despite being on semester-based contracts, I had already signed my next contract for the following semester in May 2024. I even have the HR email confirming it. Every year, I signed my contracts months in advance, and would send me a confirmation a month before the semester started, but my courses were listed in the curriculum long before these confirmation. Even today, students can still register for my class for the Spring semester.
Then, on January 17th, I received the results of the investigation.
We immediately appealed, asking for an extension because there were clear irregularities, both in the ways it conducted and its findings. The case was largely built on one false testimony —who wrongly accused the student I lent my card of several acts, while others testimonies were neglected. The individual falsely claimed that lending cards was unheard of and that the student was a militant involved in violent confrontations—none of which was true. The lawyer never even asked the student to confirm or deny these accusations.
We contested their findings, but the very next day, they rejected our request. On January 31st, they sent their final decision: they found me at fault but would not take disciplinary action—instead, they simply stated that they would not renew my contract.
But I had a signed contract. They simply canceled it.
Did media attacks influence the university’s decision?
The media didn’t have access to the investigation—I was under a confidentiality clause, which benefited the university. But I was already under attack because of my position on Palestine.
Right-wing media accused me of being the main organizer of the student protests, of manipulating students. There was a coordinated campaign against me.
We had one of the strongest student movements in Swiss universities. The administration faced intense criticism from the far-right, the right, and large sections of the Swiss-German language press. In other universities, the police had intervened and forcibly removed student protesters. That didn’t happen at Lausanne, and the right-wing used it to attack the administration, calling them weak. The pressure mounted.
Even a local MP in my canton publicly called for me to be fired.
Has the university taken any additional steps?
The university has an obligation to protect its employees from public attacks.
In previous cases, when professors involved in climate activism were targeted by right-wing media, the university defended them. Rightly so! They said: These professors are specialists in their field. They can’t therefore be only characterised as activists, they are scientific experts.
But in my case, numerous defamatory articles were published against me—including accusations of being an anti-Semite, an activist with no scientific expertise, or “not a real professor”—the university was asked to comment. They generally responded: No comment.
So that’s another dimension to this whole affair.
How do you see your experience fitting into the broader trend of attacks on academic freedom?
Absolutely. This is not just about me. Across Europe and the U.S., we are seeing continuous and rising attacks on academic freedom, freedom of expression, and democratic rights—especially targeting scholars who critique Israel and the collaborations of Western states and institutions with this latter. Students have also been very much the target of repressive actions for their solidarity with Palestine.
It’s a deeply concerning trend, especially targeting academics and students who have taken a stance against the Israeli state, against its human rights violations, and against the genocide. Many of us have spoken in support of campaigns calling for institutional boycotts of Israeli universities, which are complicit in upholding the genocide and the apartheid system.
Academics, artists, and journalists have lost their jobs simply for speaking out on Palestine. This is about silencing dissent and controlling narratives in academia.
Do you think this repression is tied to the rise of the right or is there something deeper at play?
The repression is not just coming from the far right. We see what I call neoliberal authoritarianism—leaders like Macron, Biden, and others who, while not part of the far right, have also been extremely repressive toward protest movements.
If you look at how they handled Black Lives Matter protests, for example, or more recently, the Palestine solidarity movement—it’s clear that this is not just a right-wing phenomenon.
Let’s not forget that one of the first instances of banning pro-Palestine demonstrations in Europe was in France in 2014, during one of the wars on Gaza and it was a “Socialist” government at the time.
I believe this is more connected to a broader global context. Since the 2008 financial crisis, there has been growing discontent with the economic and political system. But unfortunately, the left has not been able to organize effectively or present itself as a viable alternative. As a result, the political scene has been increasingly dominated by two forces: neoliberal authoritarianism—figures like Macron and Biden—and the far right.
This is a global trend linked to capitalism in crisis, a crisis of democratic rights, and a broader rollback of freedoms.
And Palestine plays a key role in this repression. It has been weaponized to dismantle any construction of a left-wing alternative.
We saw this in the UK with Jeremy Corbyn—he was relentlessly attacked over his stance on Palestine, accused of antisemitism, even by members of his own party. And today, in France, the main target of political attacks and repression is the Palestinian cause. The Nouveau Front Populaire in France was also the target of political attacks because of its positions on Palestine, and more particularly Rima Hassan, an European MP of the left wing movement La France Insoumise.
What are the risks when it comes to the role of academia and universities?
Well, as you know, academia is not a neutral space. It has always been a site of struggle throughout history.
Academic institutions reflect the larger political and social struggles happening in society. If you look at how dominant academic paradigms—like Orientalism—were challenged, it didn’t happen in isolation. Orientalist scholarship was primarily contested by movements like the Russian Revolution and the decolonization struggles, which in turn reshaped academic discourse. Similarly, the civil rights and feminist movements also found expression in academia.
Today, we are witnessing another front in this struggle—against intellectuals, scholars, and artists who are raising their voices for Palestine.
At the same time, academia is being attacked from multiple directions. On one hand, we see the growing privatization of universities, which pushes them to prioritize fields that generate revenue, often at the expense of critical social sciences and humanities. On the other hand, we see direct attacks on democratic rights, including academic freedom.
So yes, academia is very much a battleground—just like other sectors of society. And this is dangerous, because I believe that the primary role of academics should be to develop critical knowledge, to critique society in order to improve it, to defend democratic and social rights.
Generally, even university charters reflect this mission. That’s why I criticize these institutions—they are not even upholding their own principles. Many universities have explicit commitments to academic engagement and freedom, yet they are criminalizing and repressing scholars whose positions—like mine—are directly grounded in research and scientific expertise.
This is an extremely dangerous precedent for the future of universities and the production of critical knowledge that should be transmitted to students and society more generally.
What can be done to resist this kind of repression?
I think there are many institutional safeguards that could be put in place to prevent these kinds of situations.
But institutional protections alone are not enough. That’s why, a few months ago, we began organizing ourselves within the university.
Professors started an association—alongside the trade union—not only to defend our individual and collective rights but also to support colleagues facing similar repression. We issued solidarity statements, not just for Palestine but for other cases as well.
So, in addition to formal legal mechanisms, we need collective organizing. Professors and more generally teaching staff and workers involved in university must mobilize within trade unions, collaborate with students, and build strong networks of solidarity to push back against these repressive measures.
At the same time, we must challenge institutions that continue to collaborate with Israeli universities that violate democratic rights—just as we would oppose partnerships with institutions complicit in human rights abuses in other countries. Our commitment to defending democratic rights demonstrates that we do not “exceptionalize” Israel, to ignore its violations of human rights would be so.
Ultimately, what’s needed is pressure from below. In my case, for example, none of the procedural rules were respected—everything was arbitrary from start to finish. That’s why we’re taking the university to court. But legal battles alone are not enough. We need sustained collective pressure from within the university system and beyond.
I think the university management assumed they could do whatever they wanted and that there would be no pushback—but that’s not the case.
Because today, it’s me. Tomorrow, it could be any of my colleagues.
As someone with Syrian origins, how do you see this slide toward authoritarianism in Europe especially after the fall of the Syrian regime?
We are not living under full authoritarian rule in Europe—we still have space to defend ourselves. But what is worrying is the continuous attacks on fundamental democratic and social rights.
For the past two decades, we’ve seen a steady rise in racism and xenophobia. And yes, it’s deeply concerning.
But at the same time, I never had illusions about so-called “liberal democracy.” I mostly grew up in Europe. And as a political activist, I never romanticized Western democracy.
So I’m not entirely surprised that, in a moment of deep political and economic crisis, we are seeing this level of repression.
What is unsettling, though, is that many of us who study political dynamics and authoritarianism—who have spent years analyzing these issues in West Asia—are now witnessing more and more patterns of repression in Europe and Switzerland
I’ve had friends—political activists who suffered repressions in Syria—reach out to me in shock: What is happening? They asked me if there was anything they could do to support me.
And since October 7th, I think any remaining illusions about Western liberal democracy have been shattered.
For the first time, I heard colleagues— notably academics in Lebanon—saying things like: We are happy not to be in Europe or the U.S. right now. Moreover, in a trip to Germany at the end of 2023, several Syrian families told me they asked their children not to answer any questions, or to just say they had no opinions regarding the Palestine issue in schools, as it happened in many cases, especially targeting children from Arab origins, being afraid of the consequences. This reminded them of their parents telling them not to speak of politics in schools in Syria… This is indeed worrying.
So yes, this is part of a broader, accelerating trend. Many people now feel that it is becoming increasingly difficult to do academic work, to speak freely, in these political conditions.
And ultimately, what is our crime? Saying no to genocide.
Of course solidarity with Palestine is an internationalist duty, but it is also about defending democratic rights in western societies. Palestine has become in many ways a political compass for anyone seeking to promote a democratic, equal and social society.
A shorter version of this article is published by our partner Global Voices.
