Populism and the politics of migration

By Oliver Schmidtke, Centre for Global Studies at the University of Victoria

Migration figures prominently in the political mobilization of right-wing populism. Anti-immigrant sentiments are at the very core of this actor’s rallying cry and popular campaigns. Yet, how are we to understand the link between populism and migration? Are immigration and growing cultural diversity to blame for populist forces that advocate an exclusionary form of nationalism? For instance, has the so-called ‘refugee crisis’ of 2015-16 triggered or even caused the series of extraordinary electoral achievements of the populist right? In my view, this link between populism and migration is more indirect and multidimensional in nature. Here are some ways to conceptualize this link:

Migrants as easy scapegoats: It is one of the essential tools in (electoral) politics to assign blame and, by assigning responsibility for social ills, design politics based on the exclusion of the undesirable group. In politics, this form of scapegoating works so effectively for mobilizing purposes because it allows complex issues – such as unemployment, social inequality, housing, or crime – to be addressed in a highly simplistic fashion. Ascribing blame to a particular group like migrants steers a general, unspecific sense of frustration with politics towards a concrete adversary and frames intricate political issues in a simplistic logic of Us versus Them. Migrants are an easy target for such scapegoating practices also because they have a very limited public and political voice in particular in European societies. And right-wing populists can build on latent xenophobic feelings that are deeply rooted in the historic legacy of the European nation-state and its colonial practices.

Migrants as the threatening Other: Populists need a tangible sense of who is threatening the people and their well-being. Their very political identity is organized around the image of an urgent threat directed at ordinary people. Daniele Albertazzi and Duncan McDonnell (Twenty-First Century Populism, 2008) define populism as “an ideology which pits a virtuous and homogeneous people against a set of elites and dangerous ‘others’ who are together depicted as depriving (or attempting to deprive) the sovereign people of their rights, values, prosperity, identity and voice.” The practice of depicting migrants as the ‘dangerous others’ is instrumental in providing the people with a collective identity (in the case of right-wing populism primarily defined in terms of an ethno-cultural nationalism) and identifying those depriving the ‘virtuous people’ and their community in fundamental ways. With the anti-immigrant rhetoric, the alleged threat to the wellbeing of the own community is given a face, an easily identifiable reference point for directing dissatisfaction and political aspiration.

Migrants as a tool for a mobilizing collective identity: The racialization of the non-national other is a highly productive way of political mobilization drawing on the friend-enemy dichotomy that Carl Schmitt depicted as the very essence of politics. In his book The Concept of the Political (1932: 26, 38), he describes the friend-enemy distinction as speaking to the “utmost degree of intensity … of an association or dissociation.” Right-wing populism exploits this distinction and the emotional, or even existential power it displays. In this regard, populists can challenge the often frustratingly unresponsive and stale routine of liberal democracy with an emotionally charged fight for the security, if not the survival of the own community. Migrants are indispensable for the form of identity politics based on which right-wing populism challenges traditional competitive party politics. The resurgence of exclusionary nationalism and anti-immigrant forces itself has the potential of developing into a veritable threat to the viability of liberal democracies in general and the rights of minorities in particular.

 

Not by accident these three interpretations focus on how populist actors use migration for their political mobilization rather on the challenges posed by migration itself. My underlying hypothesis is that the political and policy issues related to migration (security, long-term integration of newcomers, accommodation of cultural diversity, etc.) cannot explain the rise of right-wing populism. Rather, the politics of migration regularly follows a different logic. Consider the 2015/16 ‘refugee crisis’: The number of irregular border crossings has dropped dramatically and the number of asylum seekers coming to Europe has gone back to pre-crisis levels. Still, the political debate in many European countries is still dominated by anti-immigration rhetoric deliberately staged by right-wing populists to exploit a divisive issue for their political mobilization.

Are the three approaches to conceptualizing the link between migration and populism the most fruitful and relevant ones? What aspects do these three interpretations leave out? Please feel free to add to the conceptual discussion or contribute with some empirical observations.

What does ‘Safety’ mean?

By Franziska Fischer, Phd candidate at the Department of Political Science, the University of Victoria

We have come full circle, from the boy on the beach (Alan Kurdi, drowning on September 2nd, 2015, trying to cross the 4 km between Turkish and European soil by boat), to Óscar Ramírez and his daughter Valeria drowning in the Rio Grande, trying to swim towards a safer future. After September 2nd, when the world looked down on the small body of Alan Kurdi being washed up on a Greek beach, we have pledged to do better. Four years later the pledge we made has nothing to show for it.

Between Alan Kurdi and Óscar and Valeria Ramírez, thousands have died, and millions are caught in limbo between their dangerous past in war-torn regions and their hopeful future in ‘safe’ and ‘stable’ countries such as the US or Europe. People, humans, parents and their children are fleeing unsafe conditions in South America, Africa, and the Middle East. They are “fleeing a hell the US helped create”, as the Guardian put it, drawing on the violence and inequalities that US political and economic actors helped to create, perpetuated and reproduced through ongoing actions. I do not write this text to point fingers, even though one might rightfully do so. I do not write this text to get caught in the intricacies of why we are, where we are. I do not write this text to find blame. I write this text to find hope, to find my sanity and to find the belief in humankind. Because what I see, read and hear tears me apart. I have shared some of the articles underneath this text, there are thousands more.

Two ‘cornerstone events’ of Alan Kurdi and Óscar and Valeria Ramírez, framing a humanitarian crisis that has the world in its tight grip, illuminating just how drastic we have successfully split our world into two. Safe and unsafe, developed and undeveloped, successful and failed, stable and conflict. However, this dichotomous perception of our messy world is beginning to crumble, the lines between safe and unsafe are blurring. Can we with a straight face say, detention camps on the Mexican/US border are safe? Is crossing the Mediterranean Sea safe? Is it safe to rightfully claim asylum in a welfare state, with a stable democracy? What does safe mean? Having a place to sleep, being able to keep yourself and your children clean, being able to eat? Then No, the US is not safe, Europe is not safe, because none of these things are guaranteed when a human in need enters these territories. Organizations, Non-profits, and individual people try to make up for the failure of the governments, of the state officials, which are caught in the bickering of who will take on the ‘burden’ to provide the most basic needs.

I am not claiming to be able to relate but I can only imagine the devastation, fear and absolute horror, as well as the hope for a better future, that will convince a parent to give themselves and their children to the goodwill of human smugglers, to trust a little rubber dingy, or swim across a vicious river, all in hope for better conditions on the other side. But for those who actually make it to ‘safety’ and don’t become tragic figures of our contemporary world order, the journey through hell has only just begun.

I will direct my focus here towards the detention camps at the Mexico/US border, but by no means do I want to belittle the horrors, the terrible conditions and lack of resources in other places of this world. For me, the recent reports from detentions camps in Clint, Texas or El Paso amongst many more, feel personal, they hit home.

I read about people being held in tiny rooms or big storage facilities without windows; for days and for weeks. I witness the governments denying it is happening. I see families ripped apart for the benefit of bureaucratic processes and separated for months. I hear about children being pulled away from their mothers, and my heart breaks. The stories are endless, and I will share several of them under this text, as many others have done a much between job than me to illustrate the tragedies. This is when I get up from my computer and I sneak into the room next to me, just to lay down next to my napping five-month-old daughter, to hear her breathe, to wake her up just to see her happy little toothless smile and her chubby little arms grabbing onto me. Silent tears running down my face, half heartache for these women who are denied giving their love to their children, to make sure they are healthy and happy, clean and fed; literally the only thing a mother wants to do (I speak from experiences). The other half of my tear’s origins in unbelievable gratefulness and humbleness to be able to be with my daughter, to watch her grow, to know her safe and fed. This unbelievable privilege revealed by the horrors of stories of other mothers just one country to the south happening right now. As a German citizen, the resemblance to concentration camps in Germany in the Third Reich is uncanny. People keep asking how Germany could allow this to happen? We are allowing it to happen right now. And it needs to STOP!

I sit in my little office, reading books about Political Theory, Development, Economy, all part of my PhD program at the University of Victoria. And all I can think of is, what is it for? All this knowledge, all this wisdom, wrapped in books sitting neatly on my shelf. This is when I want to get up, grab my daughter and hop in the car to drive down to Texas. To drive a hole in the wall of the detention camps? To protest in front of their gates? To throw diapers above the fence? All of the above? The fear of bringing my own daughter near a place that allows for such terrifying things to happen and the grip of hopelessness has me paralyzed. What can we do?

Internet research readily provides lists of organizations that are on the ground, trying to help. It feels barely enough to send a few dollars through electronic channels, to somehow make the difference between a child living or dying. It feels detached and provokes an odd sensation of guilt! Is this doing my due diligence? Is it so I can sleep at night without having nightmares? Or is it the most effective and efficient thing that I could be doing at this moment in time in my position, being a 28-year-old German PhD student, living in Canada with my little baby girl. I honestly don’t know. Maybe I will find myself in Texas soon, maybe I won’t. But what I do know is that I want to help make this stop.

Please share with me your thoughts. What can we do? What are we doing? Do you know for any particular organization or individual that is on the ground and needs help? Needs funds? If you have now considered this but were thinking of doing something nice for me for my birthday, do something else instead, as I don’t need anything. Donate to the people on the ground. Vote for an administration that will not allow this to happen. Go down to Texas.

And please, someone more courageous than me, drive a hole into these walls.

https://www.newyorker.com/…/the-lasting-trauma-of-mothers-s…

https://www.refinery29.com/…/help-migrant-children-at-borde…

https://www.newsweek.com/migrant-children-share-heartbreaki…

https://www.theguardian.com/…/central-america-migrants-us-f…

 

 

 

 

The impact of the migrant crisis on human trafficking – insights to the work of PAYOKE

By Jasmine Pathak, EU Study Tour 2019,   student and Director at Large at the University of Victoria Students’ Society

Payoke is a civil society organization (CSO) offering aid to victims of human trafficking and victims of smuggling with aggravating circumstances. During the second week of the European Union (EU) Study Tour 2019 I was able to participate in a presentation on how CSOs operate in the public arena and contribute to political and social development within the context of the EU.  The presenter focused mostly on the methods through which Payoke aids victims of human trafficking.

Firstly, Payoke outlines the Belgian legal system to victims and can support them to launch complaints against their traffickers. Secondly, Payoke helps victims to integrate into Belgian society by including the requirement of social skill development and learning the norms and values of Belgian life. This individual counselling helps them to integrate into the professional world while finding a suitable job. Moreover, Payoke also offers psychological support to help victims heal from any experienced trauma.

A significant point that I had not previously considered before visiting was the impact of the migrant crisis on human trafficking. For example, our speaker outlined how traffickers have capitalized on the migrant crisis by offering fraudulent, and often dangerous, services to transport migrants. In addition, we also discussed the challenges faced by EU leaders in responding to human trafficking cases on a supranational level, as some states wish to help victims upon arrival in Europe, whereas others would rather address the root causes. This point is supported by Gattinara (2017, p. 328) who argues that “EU leaders have been incapable, if not unwilling, to grasp the interconnectedness between the political, economic and ideological crises that the [migrant] community is facing” and that the EU must examine how different crises (such as the financial crisis, Brexit, and climate change) intersect with migration. I found this point interesting to compare with sentiments voiced in a later seminar with the Directorate-General for European Civil Protection and Humanitarian Aid Operations (DG ECHO), which stressed that effective migration policy is cross-cutting and multifaceted.

Finally, our speaker from Payoke highlighted the lack of European media attention to human trafficking, which also holds true in Canada. In fact, this visit encouraged me to conduct further research on the human trafficking of refugees in Canada. Overall, I was impressed by the number of services offered by Payoke, as the organization appeared to be operating on limited staff and resources, and I learned more about the role of civil society in the EU.

References

Gattinara, Pietro Castelli (2017).  ‘The ‘refugee crisis’ in Italy as a crisis of legitimacy’.  Contemporary Italian Politics, Vol. 9 (3), pp. 318-331

Volunteering in a Refugee Camp in Greece

By Franziska Fischer, PhD candidate, Political Science, University of Victoria

After dedicating most of my academic career intellectualizing and theorizing about migration flows and trying to understand and explain social, political and economic reactions to sudden influxes of people due to conflict or natural disasters I took the opportunity between my Master degree and my PhD to leave the books behind and spend some time working on the ground with the organization ‘Lifting Hands International’ in Greece in a Community Center and Accommodation for Refugees.

Perception of a situation is a powerful tool to create social reaction, and I hope a series of experience reports from different volunteers and first responders in Greece may assist in balancing an often fear driven narrative created by the media. The following experience reports are highly subjective and personal glimpses into a sphere of interaction between refugees and dedicated individuals, who have donated their time and energy to improve the often dire circumstances in the refugee camps in Greece.

My personal experience brought me to the northern Greek town Serres in early 2018.

Cold Weather – Warm People

Serres is a small town of 80,000 people tucked at the base of the Vrontous mountain range, one hour northeast of Thessaloniki by car. It is actually closer to Bulgaria than it is to Thessaloniki. It is a typical Greek town, meaning great food, friendly people, and a lot of politics. It’s hot and humid during the summer and brutally cold in the winter. When I arrived in Serres it was early January, and while there was fortunately little snow on the ground, the temperatures barely rose above freezing levels.

Yazidi Refugees

Most residents of the refugee camp, which was organized by the local Greek municipality, were Yazidi. Targeted by ISIS as a religious minority, the Yazidi community has endured a grim period of genocide and is by now almost completely wiped out due to violent takeovers in Syria, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan. If you are interested in the Yazidi community and their stories please read through at the first third of the UN’s report on the genocide of Yazidis, in order to understand what the residents of Serres camp have been through and what sets them apart. In a nutshell Yazidis are member of a Kurdish religious minority found primarily in northern Iraq, their official language is Kurmanji and after the invasion of the IS in their region and their vicious persecution, their culture got almost entirely wiped out as the survivors had to flee over the Sinjar mountain range to escape genocide.

During my time in Serres, I took over the German lessons, as the previous language teachers Kathi and Corinne were departing back to Germany and Switzerland. Many Yazidis already have families in Germany and are just waiting to join them, which unfortunately can take several years with the current backlog in European bureaucracy and the ongoing disputes between the Member States of the European Union to find a coherent system to deal with the refugee influx.

My goal was to utilize the time I had with the Yazidi community to give them a solid understanding of language and habits of the German life to allow a smooth arrival in the anal German bureaucracy as well as navigate the jungle or rules that is the German language with fun and exciting lessons. During my time in Serres I offered Beginner German, Advanced German, German for the Babas (Dads) and the Mamas (Moms). I also initiated an ABC class, designed to teach people not familiar with the Latin Alphabet. Additionally, I started a band project with the Yazidis to combine their countless talents on the guitar, ukulele, piano, drums and singing to a wonderful band-project, the Blue-Hearts, we called ourselves. Some members of our little band requested to cover Justin Bieber songs, and even though I do not feel strongly about that request, it just showed me, they are just normal teenagers, identifying with some of the same cultural phenomena as any western teenager. Music is such powerful tool to connect people and it reminded me time and again, instead of always searching for differences; how is that person distinct from me – we can find s many beautiful connections through similarities, may it even be a terrible taste in music. After about a week of rehearsal, there was not a single person in the camp, who was not able to hum along to Justin Biebers ‘Love yourself’ as we practiced everyday for over an hour, outside around the fire, for everyone to hear and participate.

Even though I was offering four different levels of German classes, from ABC to Advanced, the levels and especially the age gap is tremendous in my groups, which makes it very challenging, but often just as much fun. The group dynamic is such a wonderful thing to observe when you witness some of the babas (Dads) erupting in a petty little disputes about who said a word first and correct, or some of the teenage girls maturely navigating their advanced understanding of the alphabet to the benefit of the whole group. My heart jumped with joy when we played charades and I was barely done painting a hardly identifiable jacket, and 15 people almost fell over from leaning forward and yelling at me from the top of their lungs: “JACKE, JACKE, JACKE.” When I then held my finger up and asked: “Artikel?” they group resumed yelling: “DIE JACKE; DIE JACKE; DIE JACKE.” They brought so much passion, devotion and ambition to class, I could hardly wish for a more wonderful group of people to teach German too. Not rarely did some of them sneak into the tents before or in between classes to write words on the whiteboard and ask me to correct them and to give tips.

Our Goals

We wanted to make a positive impact and help the people to heal from their tremendously dangerous journey and experiences. We wanted to help create an environment in which the people can thrive and develop their wonderful personalities and talents. We hoped to provide a space in which the many kids and teenagers can grow safely and hopefully soon will find a more permanent home. What happened during my time in Serres was however much more balanced. It was a give and take, it was a collaboration between people, not a hierarchy. The atmosphere was coined by respect, by gratitude and by trust on both sides. We were invited to eat and drink chai (tea) and play games, sing songs and craft beautiful decorations together. As they slowly learned German, I slowly learned Kurmanji.  Everyone helps, everyone participated with learning each other’s customs, languages, with building the constructions and providing the energy, the time and the love to create a community more than anything else.

If my time in Serres has done one thing, it has humbled me to the core and showed me, there is no need for a continuation of coloniality, for othering and for xenophobia. However, it is time to listen.

It is time to listen

We often find ourselves talking instead of listening, assuming instead of knowing. The confidence of our western understanding of the world drowns the expertise, the wisdom, and the tales from other parts of this world. It is time to listen

Especially coming from an academic background on migration and refugee studies, I am used to fancy, renowned and established scholars, usually stemming from a western university or education institution explaining, describing and analyzing a situation. And in the same line of learning, I have adapted and taken in this linear way of communication knowledge and understanding. I can intellectualize my hypocrisy, but here in Serres I actually learn to shut up and listen. It is not about me, it is not about theories, about abstract concepts and fancy names. It is a about humans that have so much to tell. And it is a privilege to listen, I am humbled by their willingness to share with me their tales, their knowledge and their unbroken spirits, optimism and positivity.

Let this be a reminder to us all, to speak to each other instead of speaking for someone. Let this be a reminder to listen and hear what is said, instead of assuming what we already know. Let this be an invitation to bring together people of different realities and knowledges to share with ne another, instead of condemning otherness. It is an opportunity – lets treat it as such and not as a threat to a construct in our heads.