1.1 Intersections Between Politics of Culture, Welfare, and Migration in Europe

After the fall of the Berlin wall and the subsequent disbanding of various state socialist regimes across the former Eastern Bloc, which marked the end of the Cold War, there was a certain sense of optimism shared by most European societies concerning a peaceful and prosperous future. Among scholars, while some representatives of traditional approaches to world politics and international relations failed to predict the end of the Cold War, others were enthusiastic about what seemingly was the definitive victory of democracy and the market economy. The situation was paradoxical—both a source of optimism and uncertainty. What was still left to fight for? Had we reached the famous “end of history” (Fukuyama 1992), marking the final victory of market capitalism and liberal democracy, and thus, the advent of a post-ideological world order? Soon enough, one such promise—that of enjoying the benefits of free movement from one country to another—was enshrined into the Maastricht Treaty of the European Union.

Some three decades later, everything seems radically different: “Europe as an idea, as an identity and as a political project, seems incapable of practices of solidarity and care; in other words, Europe is suffering from a crisis of solidarity.” (Martinsson and Mulinari 2018, p. 159). This has deepened the existing crisis of legitimacy, pushing the EU project of peace, prosperity, and integration farther away from the grim reality on the ground (Agustín and Jørgensen 2018; Trenz et al. 2015; Triandafyllidou and Gropas 2015). The failure to address the forced displacement of millions of people, and above all, the lack of solidarity was too obvious to ignore, or as UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon remarked “We are facing the biggest refugee and displacement crisis of our time. Above all, this is not just a crisis of numbers; it is also a crisis of solidarity. […] We must respond to a monumental crisis with monumental solidarity” (UN 2016). Today, it seems that the initial euphoric optimism has vanished without much of a trace. To grasp this complex situation, we argue that there is an imperious need to sharpen and update the conceptual scaffolding that is generally employed to examine the intersecting politics of culture, welfare, and migration across Europe, which are part of the “liquid modernity” of contemporary late capitalism (Bauman 2012).

1.2 Conceptual Setting

Upon closer look, the apparent triumph of the market economy paved the way for profound changes in the European welfare states. They not only entailed a dramatic transformation of the conditions of, and the means of, access to welfare provision but also involved a retraction of citizenship as well (Schierup et al. 2006). In turn, this triggered an exacerbation of welfare chauvinist appeals, the escalation of securitization fears, and the increased discrimination of migrants (be they regular or irregular) and their offspring (Andersen and Bjørklund 1990; Betz and Johnson 2004; Dikeç 2007; Conversi 2014; Keskinen et al. 2016; Norocel 2017; Ruzza 2009). These developments have been accompanied by the continuous transfer of authority from the national level to transnational bodies like the EU and the increasing dominance of the executive in national politics (Sassen 2006; Trenz et al. 2015; Triandafyllidou and Gropas 2015), which brought closure to established political channels for civil society influence (Standing 2011).

The reaction to these changes manifested in two distinct ways. First, Europe has experienced the growing presence of right-wing populist parties, which were accompanied by a wave of manifestations of extremism and xenophobia. Anchored in the nostalgic longing for an ethnically homogenous past that never quite existed, these retrogressive forces have emphasized the importance of making and policing racialized, classed, and gendered borders as a means to identify and protect the native majority’s allegedly proprietary right to welfare (Bevelander and Wodak 2019; Norocel 2016; Wekker 2016). Secondly, and in contrast to the first reaction, Europe has witnessed the coalescence of transnational and transethnic justice movements across civil society and the forging of new alliances between migrant networks and organizations, NGOs, precarious workers and students, and in some cases, labor unions (Martinsson and Mulinari 2018; Ruzza 2009; Schierup et al. 2017).

To make sense of the complex dynamic between these opposing trends, we suggest approaching it from the perspective of the competing master frames of nostalgia and hope. The chapters compiled in the present volume expand our knowledge on how politics are conducted by investigating political projects which, taken together, “re-imagine and/or change established modes of doing politics” (Zienkowski 2019, p. 132) and thus provide multiple entry points to how these master frames are interpreted in practice.

Illustrating this point is the slow democratic decay across Europe, which accompanied the access to power of right-wing populist and anti-immigration parties, and, in several less consolidated democracies, even the descent into authoritarianism (Bevelander and Wodak 2019, p. 31). Indeed, it seems that “the populist zeitgeist” (Mudde 2004) has attained a position of hegemony across Europe and elsewhere around the world, and even more so today than when Mudde wrote his article. Whereas scholarship in the field has treated right-wing populism as a normal pathology of democratic societies, it has now become a pathological normalcy (see Akkerman et al. 2016; Hellström and Bevelander 2018; Minkenberg 2017; Rovira Kaltwasser et al. 2017; Rydgren 2018). Indeed, as right-wing populist parties supporting anti-immigration attitudes have made significant inroads into the politics, researchers now argue that this marks no less than a fascitization of the mainstream (Bevelander and Wodak 2019). Examples are not difficult to find across Europe. For instance, the Alliance of Young Democrats-Hungarian Civic Alliance (Fiatal Demokraták Szövetsége–Magyar Polgári Szövetség, Fidesz) under the leadership of Viktor Orbán embarked on a dramatic volte-face, disregarding the founding principles of liberal democracy in order to create their vision of “illiberal democracy” in Hungary. Free and government-critical media, independent and non-politicized judiciary, and autonomous universities that defend critical knowledge have all come under attack with dire consequences. These developments are mirrored by similar power grabs in Poland at the hands of the ruling Law and Justice Party (Prawo i Sprawiedliwość, PiS). Authoritarian reactions are coupled with legislative measures aimed at providing a veneer of social justice narrowly reserved to the native majorities. Similar efforts were undertaken in Italy by the (Northern) League (Lega (Nord), LN) and Matteo Salvini during their brief spell as junior governmental partners in the aftermath of 2018 parliamentary elections. While Deputy Prime Minister in charge of the interior affairs, Salvini pursued hardline measures to abolish essential forms of protection for migrants, which were justified by the imperative to safeguard the Italian way of life. With this in mind, it is easy to become pessimistic.

This notwithstanding, we argue that, while indeed all these retrogressive advances have become more brazen, we are witnessing a concurrent coalescence of the progressive forces. Just to name a few examples, in Greece, the extreme-right anti-immigration party Golden Dawn (Χρυσή Αυγή) lost parliamentary representation in the 2019 national elections after five consecutive elections that resulted in the party sending between 21 and 17 representatives to the Hellenic parliament. By the same measure, the much-discussed ascendency of the Alternative for Germany (Alternative für Deutschland, AfD), which was foreseen after the AfD entered the German federal parliament in 2017 for the first time, failed to materialize. In turn, it was the Greens (Die Grünen) that made substantive gains in the 2019 European parliamentary elections, signaling the emergence of a “green wave” of progressive politics across Europe. Put differently, European societies are not on a dystopian path, at least not unequivocally.

Rather, we argue that politics—understood as the partial fixation of meaning in the antagonistic field of the political (Mouffe 2000, pp. 125–128)—are a site of struggle for competing forces, whose agendas are underpinned by the narrative master frames of nostalgia and hope. Consequently, various forms of political mobilization attempt to alter existing political and social hierarchies, either in a retrogressive or more progressive direction.

Hope for a progressive and enlightened future finds itself in an uneasy coexistence and fragile equilibrium with a strong nostalgic attachment to a time of great things past. If nostalgia often strives to restore the polity in question as it once was, the latter is its polar opposite—it is associated with progressive ideals and optimistic, forward-looking visions. Nostalgia also has a visionary aspect, despite it being oriented in the past rather than the future. Nostalgia provides something to people to cling on to and promises to restore the glory of days past. Nostalgia and hope are experienced on a daily basis, connecting local practices and transnational loyalties. Some people long for essentialist and stereotyped identities as a means to make sense of, and slow down, the all-too-rapid changes in contemporary societies (Berliner 2018, p. 11). In this case, and often finding support in right-wing politics, it is a “restorative nostalgia” after a monocultural, racially homogeneous, and neatly defined collection of separate European societies that appeals (Boym 2001; Wekker 2016). It foretells that one ought to protect “our welfare” and “our (traditional) culture” from outside (“them”) and overly permissive insiders who put the internal cohesion of “our society” at risk. At the other end, putting their hope into a forward-looking vision, people generally embrace a perspective that welcomes increasingly diverse and tolerant European societies, albeit one needs to be aware of the temptation that progress is inevitable (Snyder 2018, p. 7). In other words, hope represents an emotional glue that enables the crystallization of counter-hegemonic agendas among social movements and different organizations and creates the intellectual opening for “understanding that societies and our societal positions are possible to transform and that society as well as individual identities can emerge in a different way” (Martinsson and Mulinari 2018, p. 14).

A telling example is with Greece, where the most severe episode of the economic crisis was shortly followed by the most tangible manifestations of the refugee (reception) crisis (Dalakoglou and Agelopoulos 2018). Indeed, the social mobilization and the everyday practices protesting the draconic fiscal austerity measures dictated by the so-called Troika (the EU Commission; the European Central Bank; and the International Monetary Fund) led to the emergence of Syriza (Συνασπισμός Ριζοσπαστικής Αριστεράς) as a political alternative to an incompetent and backward-looking political class. On cultural matters, the Syriza-led government pushed through the legal recognition of same-sex unions and the right to change legal gender despite vehement opposition from the conservative forces led by the Greek Orthodox Church and violence from the extreme right. The same grassroots forces showed solidarity with the plight of those seeking refuge in Europe. This notwithstanding, Syriza’s inability—or unwillingness—to successfully challenge the Troika’s austerity push led to an impasse and can be held up as yet another example of the shortcomings of “movementist” politics in achieving sustainable changes (Badiou 2018). In turn, it paved the way to a return to power of center-right New Democracy (Νέα Δημοκρατία), as the party won a majority in the 2019 parliamentary elections. This comes to show that the trajectories of nostalgia and hope are not fixed.

To better articulate the nostalgia and hope dichotomy at a theoretical level, we suggest a closer look at the conceptual construct of heartland (Taggart 2000, pp. 95–98). The concept entails “the positive aspects of everyday life” and is at the same time a construction of an ideal world, one which is constructed retrospectively—a vision derived from the past and projected onto the present. As such, the heartland represents a claim to a common spiritual foundation, which creates a sense of belonging to an allegedly culturally homogeneous population (Betz and Johnson 2004, p. 320; Hellström 2016, p. 66). Importantly, this nostalgia is manifested in a rather vicarious manner (Berliner 2018, pp. 19–20), in the sense that it need not build on personal stories and first-hand experiences but rather crystallizes under the effect of larger narratives of what represents the specificity of our respective communities. Certain narratives that distinguish “our nation” from others are iterated on a daily basis. Appeals to a particular homeland nurture a sense of deep community between “the virtuous people” that share a proprietary right to their lands, which is founded on the belief of a long-lasting and continuous past. These appeals are marked by deep skepticism—or at times, outright opposition—to extending these rights to those who are perceived as “unworthy newcomers”. These narratives may be based for example on such “civic virtues” as gender equality and tolerance, though underpinned by the tacit conviction that these newcomers—particularly Muslims—are not sufficiently accustomed to and full-heartedly embracing “our ways”. Such reasoning is often paired with ideas of unbridgeable differences that separate the “native us” from “migrant them” on the basis of a distinct genealogical ethnic descent. In extremis, this opens for an identitarian logic of “ethnopluralist” difference which recasts the racist distinctions of racial biology into insurmountable cultural distinctiveness, which privileges “our culture” as both separate and, importantly, discreetly better than “their culture”. This logic is intimately connected to the French New Right (nouvelle droite) and the emergence of cultural racism (Taguieff 1990). In our view, nostalgia is a master frame underpinned by these narratives of cultural difference, which are expressed with varying degrees of intensity, as detailed above.

Hope is the opposite master frame, which is often associated with movements that build their identity around progressive narratives that embrace solidarity and diversity. In this context, the solution is an active accommodation to new differences of welcoming the aforementioned “migrant them” rather than disbarring them. New solidarity practices and political alternatives take different forms across Europe, such as the civil society Venligboerne in Denmark; the feminist and queer collectivity mobilizing against both Greek traditionalist homophobic patriarchy and neoliberal austerity mantra in Athens; or the institutionalization of solidarity in the Refugee Plan in Barcelona (Agustín and Jørgensen 2018; Athanasiou 2018). Southern Europe, and particularly Greece and Spain, have become social laboratories for experimenting with new forms of participation pointing to material manifestations of hope through concrete practices (Agustín and Briziarelli 2018; Dalakoglou and Agelopoulos 2018). What all these have in common is a visionary orientation towards a shared future, which builds on the crystallization of a new societal culture, rather than a consistent political tactics—a future to come that has “meaning (as possibility), but no predetermined direction, for it can end either in hope or disaster” (de Sousa Santos 2004, p. 26). Consequently, in order to locate these gusts of hope, scholarly attention must move beyond mere analyses of political competition among parties and enter the realms of civil society mobilization on local, national, and transnational European, and global levels of community making.

1.3 Interdisciplinary Contributions

The present volume has an interdisciplinary profile, making significant contributions to migration studies as well as scholarship on right-wing populism, extreme-right activism, feminist mobilizations, and other social movements. A point of departure for this volume is the assumption that the narratives constructing our collective identities (i.e. the shared experience of ourselves in contact and contrast to the alterity) are not arbitrary and rarely innocent and consequently shape the process of formulating and implementing the politics of migration of the polity in question. We operationalize these narratives around the master frames of nostalgia and hope. They provide the discursive context wherein societies articulate the manner in which politics are done and who are deemed as legitimate political subjects.

From this perspective, the chapters in this volume expand their attention beyond the institutionalized forms of doing politics, dealing with the political mobilization of civil society actors. The chapters offer a diverse range of empirical contributions, ranging from Sweden and Finland in its northernmost corners of Europe to Poland and Romania in the east and Italy in the south. They critically examine the junction between the politics of culture, welfare, and migration across the continent that are not only embedded in specific national contexts but also transnational in a comparative perspective by examining transnational mobilizations and global cities.

In the aftermath of the 2008 economic and financial crises, the heated debates concerning the financial and moral implications of bank bailouts, growing unemployment, and the apparent victory of the fiscal austerity mantra were clear signs of a reactivation of the socio-economic cleavage and the politics of welfare pertaining to it. At the same time, migration and what later came to be labelled the 2015 “European refugee (reception) crisis”, gave rise to passionate discussions about controlling migration flows, demographic anxieties, and demands for preserving national cultures (Agustín and Jørgensen 2018), thereby widening the focus to politics of (national) culture and migration. As several contributions in the present volume show, these calls for protecting national specificity are often tinged by more or less discrete xenophobia, and in some cases, by outright racism. Notwithstanding this, on a more abstract level, both issues of welfare and (national) culture concern national identity in the context of contemporary migration patterns: how a people defines their collective identity, what bounds of solidarity among its members are valued, and how they describe themselves as different from others.

Another important contribution of the present volume is the articulation of a gender perspective on the narrative use of said master frames. For instance, several chapters widen the focus of scholarship on right-wing populist parties and extreme-right mobilization by delving further into how gender is employed strategically to do ideological work. On the one hand, particularly in Northern and Western Europe, the right-wing populist parties formally acknowledge gender equality provisions and incorporate these into their welfare chauvinist appeals as a means to distinguish between allegedly emancipated natives and deeply patriarchal migrants (Farris 2017; Norocel 2017). On the other hand, the extreme right mobilization vehemently opposes women’s emancipation and nostalgically calls for a return to a traditional gender hierarchy, which posits women as frail and in need of defense from the menacing figure of the male (Muslim) migrant. This notwithstanding, other chapters highlight the importance of feminist mobilization in bringing about a “politics of intersectional hope” (Martinsson and Mulinari 2018), which builds bridges between anarcho-feminism, queer and Roma feminism and engages in struggles for social justice. The following section discusses more in detail the organizational logic of the present volume and provides brief explanations of each chapter’s focus and key findings.

1.4 Disposition of the Book

The present book is a collection of chapters that are organized around three internally coherent thematic parts. The chapters may be read as standalone pieces of research. They employ both comparative and single case studies to address different perspectives, and by means of various methodological approaches, the manner in which the master frames of nostalgia and hope are articulated in the politics of culture, welfare, and migration. The chapters may just as well be read as constitutive contributions of the aforementioned parts, which deal thematically with right-wing populist party politics across Europe (Part I), with an articulation of politics beyond party politics either by means of retrogressive mobilization (Part II) or emancipatory initiatives (Part III).

1.4.1 Part I: Right-Wing Populist Party Politics Across Europe

The chapters collected in this part examine right-wing populist party politics across Europe. They illustrate how the articulation of right-wing populist politics relies on and is undergirded by the master frame of nostalgia. Particularly important in this context seems to be the manner in which the online strategies of individual party members attach onto the wider political narratives in the areas of party-political competition. The chapters in this part display a diverse array of qualitative methodological approaches that examine a variety of empirical material (such as political debates, social media and blog entries, party documents and party leaders’ interviews during election campaigns), with the analyses focused mainly on the aftermath of the 2015 refugee (reception) crisis.

These chapters provide both in-depth single case studies (Finland) of the way right-wing populist politicians discursively deflect accusations of racism against Muslims as well as comparative analyses of how discourses on national culture, immigration, and the welfare state are articulated. These chapters either analyze national differences in a seemingly common regional context (Denmark and Sweden), map out diverse positions and electoral strategies for acceding to political prominence (Poland, Hungary, and Romania), or investigate how entire countries or their diaspora in Europe are instrumentalized as culturally polarizing issues (in the UK, Austria, and Germany). The key argument of these chapters is that, across Europe, right-wing populist parties successfully politicize both issues of national identity and welfare provision and consequently pressure, with varying degrees of success from one context to another, the mainstream parties into altering their standing on these matters.

Examining two socio-economically similar North European countries such as Denmark and Sweden, Anders Hellström and Mahama Tawat evidence in Chap. 2 how discourses on immigration, culture, and the welfare state are articulated differently. Studying a combination of both conventional political discourses and the blogosphere in the two countries, Hellström and Tawat show that the mainstream political discourse, as well as in the blogosphere in Denmark, gained increased recognition in a wider public for ideas and policies based on cultural incommensurability on the eve of the 2015 refugee (reception) crisis, whereby cultural diversity was depicted as incompatible with social cohesion and a threat to the Danish welfare system. By contrast, the mainstream political discourses in Sweden consistently associate cultural issues with redistributive policies, although the debate was highly polarized. The rhetoric around immigration, culture, and welfare varied according to ideological lines along the left-right cleavage. Nevertheless, in the blogosphere, welfare chauvinism and opposition to multiculturalism seem as strong as in Denmark, particularly among right-wing populist supporters.

Nevertheless, also in the North European context, Katarina Pettersson explores in Chap. 3 how Finnish right-wing populist politicians discursively deflect accusations of racism against Muslims. Pettersson undertakes a discursive psychological analysis of selected politicians’ Facebook profiles and identifies four ways of denying accusations of racism: first, by constructing the racist statements as mere accounts of indisputable facts and common-sense; second, by providing personal narratives and ontological gerrymandering which act as “proof” of their non-racist disposition; third, by moving the discussion from issues about race to matters of cultural threats; and fourth, by reversing racism onto their political antagonist. Pettersson evidences that in their discursive denial of racist hate speech against Muslims, the analyzed Finnish politicians relied more on cultural arguments than on welfare chauvinism. More clearly, these discourses employed nostalgic references to Finnish national identity, people and values, and appeals to save them by resisting the alleged cultural threat that Islam represents.

Concentrating on the Central and Eastern European context in Chap. 4, Radu Cinpoeş and Ov Cristian Norocel add complexity to the discussion concerning the interplay between national identity ideals and welfare chauvinist appeals. Cinpoeş and Norocel provide a comparative framework that maps out the various positions right-wing populist parties occupy in mainstream politics in the region, selecting Poland, Hungary, and Romania as their case studies. They examine the official discourses of key right-wing populist parties in the chosen countries from the beginning of 2015 onwards. Cinpoeş and Norocel offer a convincing analysis of the various electoral strategies of these parties, which were employed with varying degrees of success, that juxtapose cultural protectionist appeals to welfare chauvinist proposals. In so doing, they shed light on the particularities of the culture and welfare nexus in the Central and Eastern European context.

Taking a slightly different approach, in Chap. 5, Gokay Özerim and Selcen Öner scrutinize and compare how Turkey as a potential EU Member State, and the presence of Turks as a significant ethnic minority group in Europe, was instrumentalized politically. Özerim and Öner analyze how Turkey and the Turkish diaspora in Europe are constructed as a culturally polarizing issue as part of a larger right-wing populist preoccupation with “cultural security” matters. For this purpose, they examine three cases. The first concerns the “Vote Leave” campaign part of the Brexit referendum in the UK; the second is constituted by the instrumentalization of Turkish immigrants and Turkey’s EU membership bid in Austrian domestic politics; and the third pertains to the German domestic political debates in the aftermath of the 2015 European refugee (reception) crisis and its impact onto the Turkish community in the country.

1.4.2 Part II: Retrogressive Mobilizations Outside the Political Arena

The chapters gathered in this part map out the different manners and actors, and the various settings in which retrogressive ideals are juxtaposed in diverse combinations nostalgia for past/imagined ethnic homogeneity, belief in immutable national identities, and “post-welfare melancholia” (Pallas 2011). These chapters concentrate on transnational developments (Europe-wide), as well as several national settings (Sweden, Hungary, and Germany). They use a diverse array of qualitative methodological approaches to examine various empirics (such as social media posts, nationwide daily newspapers, nationalist symbols, in-depth interviews, and mobilizing anthems). In so doing, they provide both a birds-eye view and a more granular perspective concerning the various forms that the retrogressive mobilization outside the political arena may take. Put differently, the main argument of this part is that outside the political arena there are certain segments of society that both reverberate to and shape right-wing populist discourses that are underpinned by conceptions of monolithic and exclusive national identity and welfare chauvinism.

Examining the transnational cooperation framework of the European youth movement Generation Identity (GI), Anita Nissen evidences in Chap. 6 how different national GI chapters constructed and assigned protagonist and antagonist identities in the context of the 2015 refugee (reception) crisis. Nissen exposes the ethno-pluralist conception of society onto which the GI bases its understanding of “identity”; this is tied to the imperatives of ensuring ethnic segregation and a nostalgic yearning for a time of European ethnic homogeneity. Consequently, the movement’s endeavor to “return to the future” is to be achieved by confronting today’s Universalist and egalitarian principles as well as alleged “mass-immigration” and Islamization. Nissen unveils how strategies such as highlighting the negative consequence of particularly Muslim third-country immigration and questioning the truthfulness of the migrants’ and refugees’ residence claims are employed in the effort to return Europe to its imaginary ethnically homogeneous roots.

Concentrating on the Swedish context, in Chap. 7 Emil Edenborg uses the debates about sexual violence, immigration, and gender equality—in the wake of reports about large-scale sexual harassment during the New Year’s Eve celebrations in Cologne and at a summer festival in Stockholm—to examine critically the relation between welfare and culture in Sweden. Analyzing both newspapers’ reporting and the party leaders’ speeches pertaining to these events, Edenborg argues persuasively that the circulation of the “migrants’ sexual violence” trope engendered a bordering practice, implicitly or explicitly supporting the stricter border regime introduced in November 2015. The idea of “endangered gender equality” was part of a securitization process whereby immigration was portrayed as an existential threat to the Swedish welfare model, which effectively closed off the possibility to argue for a return to previously more generous asylum policies.

Focusing on Hungary, a country where welfare chauvinism and anti-immigrant rhetoric is a mainstay of the public debate, Katherine Kondor and Mark Littler examine in Chap. 8 the uses of nostalgia in the construction of national identity for the purpose of far-right organizing. Kondor and Littler scrutinize several Hungarian organizations, both from the more traditional far-right movement and the Hungarian chapter of the Generation Identity network, with their heavily anti-immigration rhetoric. To grasp the politics of culture at work among various Hungarian far-right organizations, she analyzes both the identities of these organizations as well as in-depth interviews with far-right activists. Kondor and Littler argue that what these far-right organizations have in common is a nostalgic longing for a time when Hungarians were “pure”, before interaction and integration with their European neighbors. This nostalgia is simultaneously mixed with the seemingly contradictory belief in the importance of Christianity and Christian values in the construction of Hungarianness.

Concentrating in turn on the German context, Andreas Önnerfors scrutinizes in Chap. 9 how important a role the sentiments of nostalgia and melancholia play in retrogressive mobilization, particularly in the case of PEGIDA. Departing from the theoretical discussion concerning “retrotopia” (Bauman 2017) and “post-welfare nostalgia” (Pallas 2011), Önnerfors argues for an interpretive framework with the potential to inform cultural nationalism studies. From this perspective, Önnerfors discusses PEGIDA’s organizational development and its ideological fuzziness, which then are used to examine two illustrative examples of PEGIDA’s retrotopian performance of culture. This allows Önnerfors to address the normative conflict between civil society agency as beneficial for democracy and the rise of retrogressive forces among certain sections of society that espouse “unwanted” values from a detached vantage point.

1.4.3 Part III: Emancipatory Initiatives Mobilizing Beyond Politics

The chapters reunited in this part engage in various ways to what we call “politics of hope”. Politics of hope describe a symbolic move beyond party politics to focus on emancipatory initiatives from below, or to be more precise, those initiatives in civil society that deal with contentious politics revolving around the nexus of welfare and culture. These chapters concentrate on several national settings (Denmark, Finland, and Romania) as well as on “global cities” (Brussels). They do so by employing several methodological approaches, such as mixed-methods, in-depth interviews and ethnography as well as discourse analysis. The chapters offer various answers to the question of how to promote progressive politics when the sphere of party politics in a certain country is seemingly restrictive. The chapters in this part identify diverse forms of praxis across Europe. In other words, the key argument in this part is that civil society is emerging as a new political subject with claims for a progressive renegotiation of citizenship that denounces welfare chauvinism and narrow cultural retrenchment.

Focusing on the Danish context, in Chap. 10, Martin Bak Jørgensen and Daniel Rosengren Olsen analyze the development of civil society organizations (CSO), which move beyond “politics of fear” (Wodak 2015). Their analysis is set against the backdrop of a political climate built on crisis scenarios and “There is No Alternative” (TINA) politics. The chosen case study is the Danish CSO Venligboerne, which has carved out a space for itself in the contemporary Danish social landscape as an interlocutor amidst the broad spectrum of organizations that constitute the refugee solidarity movements (Toubøl 2017). Jørgensen and Rosengren Olsen argue compellingly that Venligboerne’s position in this context may be best understood as a transitional space of learning between the various positions offered by the array of organizations within the network.

Using the Finnish context to examine how the concept of civil society is reinterpreted, in Chap. 11, Camilla Haavisto analyzes the “Right to Live” collective. Consisting of Iraqi and Afghan asylum seekers and their allies, the collective protested unjust asylum processes and deportations in the center of Finnish capital city day and night for more than six months in 2017. During these protests, the collective recast the culture of gratefulness that asylum seekers in Finland traditionally have adhered to and stretched the understanding of who and what constitutes civil society. Haavisto scrutinizes the strategies used by the collective for gaining voice, visibility, and legitimacy as information sources or experts in the public sphere. She highlights the main obstacles that hinder protesting asylum seekers from being understood, contrasting the “right to be understood” (Husband 1996) with the “impossibility” of political activism led by asylum seekers (Nyers 2003).

Employing the Romanian context as an example of ongoing developments in Central and Eastern Europe, in Chap. 12, Alexandra Ana maps out the use of hope as a master frame in crystallizing support for the rising “street feminism” (Ana 2017), in opposition to the NGO-ized feminism of previous decade (Guenther 2011). NGO-ized feminism marked women’s withdrawal from politics and witnessed their engagement in competition for scarce resources and the adoption of a women’s empowerment discourse that was permeated by individualism and neoliberal free-market assumptions. In opposition to that, street feminism is contentious and disruptive in its form, intersectional in its stance, and engages concomitantly in different struggles for social justice, articulating an anti-capitalist critique. Ana argues persuasively that in the context of the successive financial and refugee (reception) crises, street feminism contours a politics of intersectional hope through a process of bridge-building and solidarity among forcibly evicted persons, feminist NGOs, anarchist groupings, Roma feminism, anti-racist organizations, and refugees.

In Chap. 13, with a “global city” like Brussels as their backdrop, Larisa Lara-Guerrero and María Vivas-Romero examine Latin American migrants as active civic agents participating in transnational social movement that create, transform, and exploit transnational networks in both their homelands and their hostland. Because of their emigration experience, migrants accumulate political and cultural knowledge, symbols, and have become aware of varying practices in the different settings they are active in. Lara-Guerrero and Vivas-Romero analyze how social remittances shape the way migrants develop their political and cultural repertoires of contention, constitute their social identities, and influence their political behavior, and illustrate their ideological stances and norms that are shaped by the multiple cities they have lived in. Their main finding is that Latin American migrants defend their political struggles and ideals by successfully developing and sustaining transnational fields of social and political mobilization.

Last but not least, by way of conclusion, in Chap. 14, Carlo Ruzza concentrates on the civil society formations and activities in the European political environment, arguing that we are witnessing a redefinition of the long-established ethos of inclusionary civil society groups. Certain moralized ideational constructs such as “community”, “belonging”, and “solidarity”, which have traditionally been associated with a cosmopolitan and tolerant conception of the role of civil society, are undergoing a process of redefinition. In this context, an individualistic, nationalist, exclusionary, and socially conservative conception of civil society is emerging. Ruzza frames the contrast between these rival images of civil society as a movement–counter movement dynamic that opposes a right-wing populist and an anti-populist block. He interprets these with reference to studies of “civil” and “uncivil” society, and provides a typology of their roles and values, making useful connections between the other chapters in the present volume.

1.5 Conclusions

With this volume, we offer empirical contemporary examples of how the contours of the political terrain shift in accordance with processes of societal formation in contemporary “liquid modernity” (Bauman 2012). The refugee (reception) crisis in late 2015 exposed emerging conflict lines in domestic as well as EU politics, reverberating among both societal actors arguing against immigration and those with a more positive view. The volume illustrates how parties, social movements and civil society organizations articulate their political agenda and societal endeavors by means of the narrative master frames of nostalgia and hope.

There is no readymade response to how European societies could or should act in the aftermath of these crises. The much referred-to common person in the street may well vent their frustration against elites in various contexts, but who they “really” are, and what they ultimately wish for, is contingent upon each national context and Europe as a whole. This does not by any means imply the end of ideology, as the classical ideologies are still very much alive. Conversely, these polarizing developments breed ideological battles between progressive forces and retrogressive counter-mobilizations at the intersection between the politics of culture, welfare, and migration.

On this matter, we deem that the 2015 refugee (reception) crisis serves as a turning point, and this requires a serious refinement and even profound redefinition of the analytical instruments needed for studying contemporary European societies. The focus of the present book is thus not only to what extent or if, but most importantly, how the politics of migration affect community-building in the twenty-first century. Political engagement is taking different forms of expression beyond the conventional means of doing politics and to understand the web of entanglements of the politics of culture, welfare and migration, researchers must venture past ordinary approaches to party politics and traditional cleavage structures (such as culture and welfare) and consider other types of social mobilization as well. The present volume takes a first step in this direction. Individually, the collected chapters explore how the master frames of either nostalgia or hope uphold these. To finish this introductory chapter by means of a metaphor, while acknowledging that the nostalgic winds blow into the sails of right-wing populist parties and retrogressive movements, our analyses also provide compelling evidence that these inauspicious gusts are accompanied by winds of hope brought about by vigorous emancipatory mobilizations across Europe.