Category: Blog

After a government collapse in 2024, Germany faced another federal election on February 23, 2025. In the 2021 federal elections, the Alternative for Germany (AfD), a party that is now even listed by German federal security authorities as a case of a suspected right-wing extremist organisation, entered the German Bundestag for the first time while more than doubling its result in the previous election with 12.6%. In this year’s federal election, the AfD received 20.8% of all votes, making it the second strongest party behind the Christian Democratic Union (CDU). In the federal states of Saxony, Brandenburg and Thuringia, the respective state Office for the Protection of the Constitution has categorised the state associations of the AfD as ‘definitely right-wing extremist’. However, all three are also examples of federal states in which the AfD enjoys particular support. In the federal elections, the party received 37.3%, 32.5% and 38.6% respectively. 

However, instead of clearly distancing themselves from the party in their campaigns, some democratic parties, those that had long perceived themselves as representatives of a ‘centre of society’, increasingly tapped into narratives that the AfD is strongly capitalising on, especially during the run-up to the elections. The reaction to deadly attacks in recent months with a debate on migration and asylum is just one example of this. Moreover, the so-called ‘firewall’ against the far-right, an agreement that democratic parties would not cooperate with far-right parties, started to crumble just before the federal elections. In early February, the candidate for chancellor of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU) tabled a motion in the Bundestag aimed at limiting irregular immigration to Germany, which found a majority with the votes of the AfD parliamentary group. It is a novelty in German post-war history that the votes of an extreme right-wing party have helped such a motion to gain a majority. This step has benefited one party in particular: It showed the AfD that it can influence conventional politics and is accepted by other parties – albeit indirectly – as a majority procurer. Lastly, another current example is a formal question from the CDU/CSU parliamentary group to the federal government on the political neutrality of state-funded organisations, which was submitted two days before the federal election. Numerous organisations, whose ‘political neutrality’ the CDU/CSU would like to have examined, had organised demonstrations against right-wing extremism and in response to the fall of the ‘firewall’ before the election. At present, there is a wave of criticism that this represents an attempt to intimidate civil society protest against right-wing extremism and for democratic values. The CDU/CSU’s questions also relate to organisations that receive funding as part of Germany’s largest funding programme for democracy and against violent extremism, namely ‘Live Democracy!’. This is a sinister sign, as it shows that civil society engagement against the far and extreme right is becoming politically unpopular or that attitudes that were originally reserved for the AfD are being ‘normalised’. This blog post takes this as an opportunity to present three doomsday scenarios of what the future of measures to prevent and counter violent extremism (PCVE) could look like if the AfD continues to gain power.

One possible scenario is the participation of the AfD in government, potentially as a junior partner in a coalition. This could, for example, influence federal budget decisions and federal education policy, which could in turn lead to a restructuring of the federal ‘Live Democracy!’ programme. Historically, the roots of today’s diverse German PCVE landscape, the bulk of which is implemented by civil society, lie in federal programmes for the prevention of right-wing extremism and racism. It is thanks to this history, as well as the country’s general dark history, that despite an increased focus on PCVE measures against religiously motivated extremism after 9/11, many measures are still explicitly aimed at preventing right-wing extremism. However, if the AfD were in government, it may influence the allocation of public funds to PCVE projects, with a shift towards those addressing left-wing and religiously-motivated extremism, arguing that these are the ‘real’ threats to our present society. Notably, as these terms are already inherently normative, they could also be given a new interpretation causing, for example, actors who currently promote democratic values to be labelled as ‘left-wing extremists’. Consequently, PCVE projects against right-wing extremism would decrease in number, and the respective projects would come under increasing pressure to seek funding elsewhere or reorient themselves. Any PCVE project that seeks to receive public funding in the future under such a government will need to swim with the current. However, it is not only the increasing lack of measures to prevent right-wing extremism that represent a collapse of an important pillar of a resilient democracy. PCVE measures to prevent religiously motivated extremism, which only ‘dance to the tune’ of a right-wing extremist party’s demands, will presumably be designed in such a way that they are highly stigmatising and thus not what we today understand as ‘effective’. 

In a second scenario, the AfD could one day even become part of the federal government. In this case, it might even have the Ministry of Education or the Ministry of the Interior under its control. If that were to happen, it would even be possible for ‘Live Democracy!’ to be abolished altogether or replaced by a new ideologically driven programme. A ‘blacklist’ for civil society organisations that take a clear stance against right-wing extremism could be part of this doomsday scenario and be excluded from funding. As a result, some civil society organisations would not even have the opportunity to reorient themselves, they would have to close or rely on donations only. Lastly, a final and the darkest scenario is an AfD-led government in which the AfD holds key ministries such as the Ministry of the Interior, Justice or Education. Not only would the work of civil society organisations against right-wing extremism no longer be supported, it could also be defamed and criminalised as agitations against the state and endangering national security. Repressive measures against such ‘criminal actors’ represent the pinnacle of this scenario. Where security authorities no longer work against right-wing structures, but with them, there is no longer any room at all for what we understand as PCVE today. There could be measures under this banner, yet these would themselves be right-wing extremist in nature and based on a concept of extremism that is directed against enemies of a right-wing extremist government. Although even today it is not entirely undisputed what the kind of ‘extremism’ PCVE measures are directed against, such an understanding of PCVE would only be an instrument legitimising violence and discrimination, a perversion of its original function. 

What can be done to prevent these doomsday scenarios? On the one hand, active efforts must be made to ensure that the AfD’s rise to political power does not materialise. This requires decisive action from democratic parties, which must reinforce the ‘firewall’ against extremist influence. Ironically, it also calls for strengthening the very PCVE measures that combat radicalisation. If these measures were funded by the democratic parties currently in power, with the longest possible legally secured funding periods, their preventative impact could be significantly enhanced. On the other hand, democratic parties must also fortify or change the institutional frameworks in which PCVE measures operate, ensuring they remain resilient against potential political interference. One critical step would be to guarantee financial stability for civil society organisations, rather than leaving them reliant on annually approved funding. A democracy promotion law, which could have provided such security, was blocked in 2021 by the CDU and again in 2023 by federal states led by the CDU and the CSU. Their objections centred on concerns about potential support for so-called ‘left-wing’ extremist organisations and ambiguities in the definition of extremism – similar arguments to those we are seeing again today. Another step could therefore be to provide better financial support to the federal states and local authorities so that they can embed tried-and-tested and ‘effective’ PCVE measures in regular structures. This would also take some of the political attention away from the PCVE landscape. Moreover, it would also be a sensible structural development of Germany’s highly experimental PCVE landscape with its numerous ‘model projects’, as those that have proven successful could enjoy a longer-term future.

Editor note: This article was originally published on The Rosa-Luxemburg-Stiftung, Beirut Office.

The Syrian opposition’s military operation that led to the remarkable collapse of the Assad regime on December 8 drew attention to Hayet Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the group that led the offensive and has since assumed power. Understandably, much of this attention has been focused on the group’s radical past and previous links to the Islamic State IS and al-Qaeda and how they might affect its leadership’s future direction in ruling the country. While legitimate and important, these concerns stir the focus away from the pressing question of how HTS has survived more than a decade of intractable conflict, during which the country has witnessed the emergence, demise, and reconfiguration of many other groups. Answering this question could provide a broader understanding of the group’s constantly evolving worldview and may offer a glimpse into the future direction of its leadership.

A close look at HTS’s trajectory reveals a strong sense of pragmatism and adaptability, fueled by its leadership’s drive for survival and hunger for power. These defining traits have allowed the group to overcome multiple challenges, ensured its survival, aneventually assumed power over Syria today  – a position it appears to maintain to this day.

Leaving ISIS

For starters, HTS, initially known as Jabhat al-Nusra (JN), was established in 2011 as the clandestine Syrian branch of the Islamic State in Iraq (ISI), which was led by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. JN’s growing popularity, stemming largely from its disciplined fighters and effective collaboration with local Islamist factions against the Syrian regime, along with the ambition for independence of its leader, Abu Muhammad al-Jolani (better known as Ahmad al-Sharaa), prompted Baghdadi to bring this increasingly self-confident Syrian wing back under his direct leadership. In April 2013, Baghdadi unilaterally dissolved both JN and ISI to merge them into a new group called the Islamic State in Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS). Al-Jolani refused and instead pledged allegiance to al-Qaeda, which was theoretically the parent organization of both groups. This move prompted thousands of foreign fighters to defect to ISIS. It sparked a power struggle that eventually led to open conflict between the al-Jolnai’s group and ISIS that has lasted until today.

Shifting allegiance to al-Qaeda revealed an early sign of its leadership pragmatism. When asked about his decision to join al-Qaeda after leaving ISIS, al-Jolani told Martin Smith in 2021 that he needed the “symbolism” of al-Qaeda leader Ayman al-Zawahiri. As one of the most respected figures in the jihadi-Salafist movement, al-Zawahiri would give JN the legitimacy needed to mitigate the fallout of breaking away from ISIS. Indeed, there was little to suggest that ideological considerations prompted this move, which was arguably a clear attempt by al-Jolani to escape ISIS’s control while minimizing the damage of leaving it behind. 

Notwithstanding the differences between ISIS and al-Qaeda regarding the timing of establishing the caliphate and the nature and frequency of violence against opponents, JN still operated within the realm of jihadi-Salafism. Generally speaking, jihadi Salafis believe that violence is the only way to achieve socio-political change and that Shari’a law should serve as the sole source of legislation. Consequently, they view both democracy and the national state system as religiously illegitimat since these rely on man-made positivist laws. They also impose takfir—excommunication—on those they consider not to adhere to what they define as “true” Islam. For example, states are deemed infidel for not applying Shari’a law as their sole source of legislation.

Leaving Al-Qaeda 

Carrying the al-Qaeda  label came at a high price for JN. The US intensified its airstrikes, other local armed factions raised concerns about cooperating with the group, and ISIS launched military offensives to drive JN out of northeastern major cities such as Deir ez-Zor. All these factors pushed the pragmatic al-Jolani to adjust his strategy and reconsider his decision to represent AQ in Syria. In July 2016, he appeared in a video revealing his face to the public for the first time and announced that all operations under the JN banner were canceled in favor of forming Jabhat Fatah al-Sham (JFS). The international community, however, continued to classify it as a terrorist organization, and most local factions refused to merge with it, fearing international isolation and strained relations with supporting states. 

The logic behind divorcing al-Qaeda, merging with local factions, and embedding itself within the Syrian opposition was largely driven by the group’s leadership’s desire to remove itself from international terrorism lists. This strategy would ensure its survival and help avoid strikes from the US-led international coalition, which had inflicted significant damage on ISIS and, to a lesser degree, on JFS. After an intense round of negotiations, the group managed to secure a merger with three local factions—Liwaa al-Haqq, Jaysh al-Sunnah, and Ansar al-Din—culminating in the establishment of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) in 2017. 

HTS, the last rebranding

The establishment of HTS was a watershed moment for the group, marking the beginning of a gradual shift from jihad to politics. To facilitate this transition, it set up its semi-technocratic Salvation Government, which has received substantial criticism for its performance and lack of transparency due to HTS’s top-down approach to governance. Additionally, the group established its General Security apparatus, which has played a significant role in quashing dissent against the leadership and maintaining economic dominance in the region.

On the military front, the group sought to monopolize violence in its areas of operation and control. Between 2017 and 2022, HTS fought and defeated its former allies among local Islamist groups—such as Nour al-Din al-Zinki and Ahrar al-Sham—depriving them of the economic lifeline provided by the Idlib Bab al-Hawa crossing. It also put an end to Hurras al-Din, an al-Qaeda affiliate established by a top al-Qaeda loyalist who defected from HTS after its divorce from al-Qaeda, rejecting HTS’s ruthless pragmatism.

HTS leadership recognized that the nation-state system was the only viable framework for survival, necessitating cooperation with state actors. By 2017, HTS began establishing relations with Turkey—a state that was considered an infidel due to its secular nature. Additionally, HTS expelled senior members who still held old, extreme jihadi-Salafist views, especially those who rejected cooperation with Ankara. Ironically, HTS had previously fought local groups for accepting Turkish support and participating in Astana political talks about Syria, in which Ankara acted as guarantor. Additionally, HTS has shared intelligence with NATO through Turkey to target high-value targets of IS and al-Qaeda, signaling its readiness to become a partner with the international community war on terror. 

On the ideological level, HTS leadership has actively sought to dominate the religious sphere in Idlib and reshape the ideological orientations of its ranks. In March 2019, HTS established the Supreme Council of Fatwa—managed by al-Jolani’s advisers—to monopolize fatwa production (formal rulings or interpretations of Islamic law by qualified scholars). This central religious authority was designed to diminish the influence of global jihadi-Salafi ideologues and curb the sway of the remaining extremists within the group. Notwithstanding these efforts, hardline views within HTS’s rank and file still exist today, especially when it comes to applying democracy and dealing with other sects. 

HTS in power

For more than a year before the operation that toppled Assad, HTS-controlled areas in north west Syria witnessed public demonstrations calling for the removal of al-Sharaa, the release of detainees—many of whom had been tortured—and the establishment of an inclusive governance system. Paradoxically, HTS’s response was relatively restrained, with few casualties reported and only superficial reforms implemented. With HTS’s operation toppling Assad, al-Jolani transformed himself into a hero and put his adversaries in a delicate position where they must either comply with his rule or remain sidelined.

The international community finds itself in a dilemma on how to proceed. On one hand, toppling Assad was a desired outcome for most of its members, but having HTS, with its radical past, lead this effort complicates their calculus. Nevertheless, examining HTS’s trajectory reveals that the group is primarily driven by its leadership’s ambition for survival and hegemony. HTS has engaged in conflicts with various factions that possess different political and ideological backgrounds, suggesting that the group is not strongly committed to any specific ideological principles. In other words, it is largely politics that drive the group’s behaviors. 

Driven by political calculation, HTS leadership has genuinely changed over the last decade. While hardline elements still operate under the group’s banner, its leadership’s strive for rule that requires an inclusive, national direction is likely to prevail. HTS’s pragmatism is a double-edged sword; on the one hand, it means that al-Sharaa is willing to adopt new positions on issues such as women and minorities, but on the other, he might be ready to go to extreme lengths to stay in power.

---

^{1 The group has been known by different names corresponding to distinct periods—ISI (Islamic State of Iraq)
from October 2006 to April 2013, ISIS/ISIL (Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham) from April 2013 to June 2014,
and IS (Islamic State) from June 2014 to the present.}

^{2 Martin Smith, an American journalist and producer, made a documentary about HTS and its leader titled “The
Jihadist” in 2021.}

Projects run by civil society are believed to be particularly valuable in preventing and countering violent extremism and in fostering democracy more broadly. For example, they can reach target groups that harbour opposition to state actors and they often possess valuable knowledge about local needs allowing for tailored services. For these and many other reasons, some countries, such as Germany, rely heavily on civil society efforts for promoting democracy and diversity as well as preventing and countering violent extremism. However, for such a diverse civil society landscape to flourish, the predictability of its financial support needs to be strengthened. This blog post explains why financial dependence on public funding, while useful and without alternative, can sometimes be dangerous, and what should be done to prevent such scenarios.

Federal programmes to promote democracy and prevent and counter violent extremism have a fairly long tradition in Germany. Since the early 1990s, federal programmes have provided public funding for projects to promote democracy and, initially, to combat racism. The largest and currently probably best-known federal programme established in 2015 is the ‘Live Democracy!’ programme. In its second funding period, 182 million euros were distributed to various civil society actors to implement projects to promote democracy and prevent and counter violent extremism of all kinds. A third funding period was due to start in early 2025. But then Germany was plunged into a budget crisis triggered by a ruling by the Federal Constitutional Court on the unconstitutional retroactive use of climate and transformation funds, which left a funding gap of 60 billion euros. The federal government was faced with the challenge of revising existing spending plans while at the same time complying with the constitutional requirements of the debt brake. The tense political situation led to heated debates within the governing coalition, with no agreement being reached on savings and priorities. As a result of the deadlock, a federal budget for 2025 was not adopted in time and the budget crisis even ultimately led to the collapse of the German federal government. Although a provisional agreement on the 2025 budget was reached in July 2024, the differences within the so-called ‘traffic light coalition’ remained and led to the dissolution of the coalition and the scheduling of new elections in February 2025.

For the civil society projects funded by ‘Live Democracy!’, this again translated into existential fears. With funding due to expire at the end of the year and no federal budget set for 2025, many projects for which federal funding was a financial cornerstone were threatened with closure. Although this was only a fear and not yet a fact, civil society projects faced many challenges: How, for example, to retain qualified staff in the face of these prospects? The scenario of a shrinking supply of civil society projects promoting democracy and preventing and countering violent extremism would have mainly played into the hands of those actors for whom these projects were already a thorn in their side. A specialist from the Federal Association for Mobile Counselling expressed great concern to researchers at ‘Netzpolitik.org’, stating that if the services were to disappear, ‘what the AfD has wanted for a long time would have been achieved through the back door’. In short, it suddenly became a tangible scenario that the German democracy would lose some of its ‘Wehrhaftigkeit’ [defensibility]. 

It was not until mid-November 2024 that the Federal Ministry for Family Affairs sent a circular to the funded projects stating that the projects selected for funding would receive at least a pro rata allocation of the funding requested for 2025 until the newly elected federal government had passed a budget for 2025. The Ministry also held out the prospect of an extension of the approval period and an increase in funding. This was made possible by provisional budget management. As a result, the federal government retained its ability to act and fulfil its legal obligations even without an adopted budget. This also made it possible to publish a new funding guideline on 24 November 2024, which came into force on 1 January 2025. Since summer 2024, civil society organisations have been able to apply for funding from 2025 and many projects have been selected to be considered for funding and can now submit funding applications. These must now be reviewed and approved so that the promised funds are available to the projects in a legally binding manner. Importantly, one of the new features is the extension of the funding phase to eight years to provide more planning certainty.

How should this situation in Germany be viewed? On the one hand, state support for a large and diverse civil society PCVE practice in Germany is absolutely necessary. After all, this wealth of projects could not be sustained by private funding alone, and private funding would be even more volatile than state funding. The fact that there are such large federal programmes for the prevention of extremism in Germany is a great advantage in international and European comparison. On the other hand, recent developments also show the need for regular funding structures that are less affected by such political crises. Extending the funding period to eight years is a step in the right direction. Another could be to fund organisations rather than individual projects, so that they can plan for the longer term and are not under pressure to innovate. Such longer planning periods could also provide an incentive to evaluate activities and thus make the whole practice more effective. Some time ago, a so-called ‘Democracy Promotion Act’ was proposed in Germany to provide a legal basis for federal funding to create long-term and transparent funding that is more sustainable and less dependent on government crises and changes. However, this law has not yet been passed due to political disputes over its content and the distribution of funds. It remains to be seen whether the new governing parties will be able to agree on such an important solution to strengthen Germany’s diverse PCVE landscape.

In a follow-up to a blog post on violence against politicians by Joshua Farrell-Molloy, a previous VORTEX piece reported on the development of these attacks in Germany and reflected on possible causes. This blog post will now focus on the consequences of these attacks and possible strategies to deal with this phenomenon.

Attacks on politicians have both immediate and long-term consequences that threaten democracy. All the studies listed in the previous VORTEX blog post on violence against politicians in Germany show that politicians are increasingly considering giving up their political careers or are less willing to speak out on certain political issues in public because of experiences of verbal hostility or physical attacks against them. According to the MOTRA study, more than one in ten of those affected have considered resigning from office or have stated that they will not run for local political office again. In the Körber Foundation study, 19% of the mayors surveyed had considered withdrawing from politics and finally, in the study by the University of Duisburg-Essen and the Heinrich Böll Foundation, which focused on large cities, the figure was still around 5%.

Behavioural changes by politicians due to fears that they might (in future) be subject to hostility or attacks are particularly problematic. According to the Körber Foundation study, 68% of the mayors surveyed have already changed their behaviour due to concerns about hostility or insults. Even among those who have not yet been affected by hostility and attacks, for example, 35% (mostly) refrain from using social media out of concern about hostility and attacks and 29% express themselves less frequently on certain topics than before. Both withdrawal because of attacks and preventive changes in behaviour cause lasting damage to democracy. Local political activity becomes less attractive, especially for those who are more likely to be targeted by right-wing scapegoating narratives because of their political stances. Withdrawal from social networks also means that democratic voices are increasingly disappearing, and anti-democratic voices are gaining ground.

So, what can be done to reduce the number of such attacks and prevent further consequences that threaten democracy? A first measure would certainly be to strengthen police investigation and prosecution capacities. But this can only go hand in hand with educating those affected about what kind of online and offline threats can be reported under criminal law and how. Those affected by hate speech on the internet need to be informed, for example, about how to secure evidence in the digital space, what kind of screenshots they need to take, that they should also secure URLs and metadata such as the IP address and how to report the platforms. Moreover, there is a need to simplify reporting channels and criminal charges as well as providing generally accessible support structures for those affected. Since this year, the German Forum for Crime Prevention has been a nationwide point of contact for those affected thanks to funding from the Federal Ministry of the Interior and acts as a coordinating guide (Starke Stelle). Some federal states in Germany have already set a good example by establishing central contact points for those affected, e.g. Hesse, North Rhine-Westphalia, Rhineland-Palatinate, Baden-Württemberg, Saxony and Bavaria. Those affected can also be referred to civil society organisations, which can help them develop concrete strategies to increase their confidence or take individual preventive measures (e.g. apply for a ban on disclosure).

One example of such a civil society organisation is HateAid. This is a not-for-profit organisation that supports those affected by digital violence. It helps people who experience hate, hate speech or threats online – be it on social media, in forums or via direct messages. The aim is to provide them with legal, psychological and financial support and to show them how to defend themselves against digital attacks. The organisation offers free advice and assistance with gathering evidence and making a complaint. In certain cases, HateAid will also pay for legal action against the perpetrators and help to enforce claims for damages. As well as providing direct help, HateAid also lobbies politically for tougher laws against digital violence and campaigns for better protection online. Through awareness campaigns and education programmes, the organisation raises awareness of the dangers of hate speech and strengthens digital civil society

Other examples are the Federal Association for Mobile Counselling, which also offers mobile counselling for municipal officials and elected representatives in every federal state and published a guide on the topic of threats against local politicians in 2021, together with the Association of counselling centres for victims of right-wing, racist and anti-Semitic violence. The National Centre for Crime Prevention published similar guide in 2020. Since April 2021, there has also been the ‘Stark im Amt’ portal, which is operated by the Körber Foundation together with the municipal umbrella organisations and is aimed at those affected by local politics. It provides both networking and prevention work by showing how local politicians can prepare themselves for potential threats and how to behave in the event of attacks.

However, in addition to providing support for those affected and criminal prosecution, the problem of threats and physical attacks against politicians must also be tackled preventively. Germany has a particularly diverse range of civic education, democracy promotion and extremism prevention measures that contribute in various ways to making society more resilient to scapegoating narratives, for example. In the area of extremism prevention, many civil society organisations also provide advice in cases of potential radicalisation. Such services are indispensable, especially in times of multiple interlinked crises, which is why it would only be a welcome development if the financial support for such projects were secured in the long term.  

Director Justin Kurzel’s new film ‘The Order’, released late last year, is a true-crime thriller starring Jude Law and Nicholas Hoult. Adapted from the book ‘The Silent Brotherhood’, by Kevin Flynn and Gary Gerhardt, the film tells the story of the US-based neo-Nazi terrorist organisation The Order, a small militant faction that split from the Aryan Nations in the early 1980’s and was active for over a year until their downfall. 

During their brief existence The Order, led by Robert Jay Mathews, carried out a crime spree across the US that included bombings, counterfeiting operations and bank and armoured-cars robberies to finance their armed revolution against the government. In their most notorious attack, the group shot and killed Jewish talk radio host Alan Berg outside his home in Denver. An outspoken critic of the far-right, Berg was killed for being ‘anti-white’. 

Dramatised versions of real-life terrorism events are a genre of their own and risk feeling like bland made-for-tv docudramas. But The Order is an engaging cat-and-mouse detective thriller full of atmosphere. The haunting score by Jed Kurzel casts an unsettling backdrop on a film that feels deeply immersed in the geography, with stunning shots of landscapes capturing the magnitude of the Pacific Northwest. The shootouts are brutal and well-choreographed, evoking Michael Mann’s Heat, while the performances of the cast are all solid.

As is the case with most films inspired by true stories, some elements are dramatised for cinematic effect. Law plays Terry Husk, a fictionalised character created for the purpose of storytelling, a cliche cop dealing with a falling apart marriage and dispatched to a small town. There are moments which lack plausibility, like occasions where Husk and Mathews meet face-to-face, or when Mathews interrupts a church service to deliver an impromptu speech at an Aryan Nations compound, before the crowd erupts into cheers of ‘white power’, in scenes that feel a bit too theatrical. 

What makes the film most compelling though is the portrayal of Mathews by Hoult. Hoult delivers a stellar performance as a calculated, articulate and charismatic leader, whose handsome looks make him look out of place among his more weathered looking acolytes. There is a chilling coolness about his character that is unnerving, yet effective in conveying his magnetic aura—which seems precisely the point. The film really leans into this, making him as captivating to the audience as he may have been to his followers, helping us to understand a little better how they may have been drawn to him. However, this depiction is one which risks glamorising his persona and ideology.

Watching the film, it is easy to see how contemporary fellow travellers of The Order and their ideology might admire it. The film portrays neo-Nazis in a way we do not normally see. The group is shown as a well-dressed, highly organised and coordinated outfit, executing heists efficiently and remaining calm in combat and under pressure. Their competency is in stark contrast to law enforcement, depicted as always one step behind the group. Mathews’ death in a final blaze of glory during a fiery shootout with FBI agents, although an accurate portrayal, could risk making him even more admirable to his supporters. 

This theme is one which touches on a phenomenon any of those who study online communities of violent extremists will tell you— when such dramatised portrayals of their heroes enter their online universe they are often repurposed as propaganda. It is not difficult to imagine The Order spliced up into the sort of aesthetic tribute videos that are a mainstay in these online worlds, with velocity edits and flash cuts of shots from the film slowed down or sped up to high-energy soundtracks. However, any reuse of the film in this way is no fault of Kurzel. Regardless how filmmakers present the subject, extremist audiences tend to admire them through their own ideological lens. 

For example, on ‘Terrorgram’, a network of neo-Nazis on Telegram who promote terrorism and glorify far-right killers as ‘Saints’ (including Mathews), scenes from such films and documentaries are regularly recycled in their propaganda. This has included footage from ‘July 22’, about the 2011 Norway attacks, despite the director’s effort to balance the focus on Breivik with a harrowing depiction of the suffering endured by his victims. Tony Stone’s 2021 film ‘Ted K’ about Unabomber Ted Kaczynski also features, including clips of Kaczynski chopping down power lines or testing explosives alongside captions like “reject the modern world”. This was despite the film providing a character study of Kaczynski as a pathetic figure. Likewise, clips valorising Oklahoma Bomber Timothy McVeigh are taken from something as innocuous as reconstruction scenes from a National Geographic documentary about the bombing.

Of course, this is simply a feature of our highly visual world, where social media allows images and narratives to be endlessly repurposed, reframed, and reinterpreted. In our digital media landscape, no piece of visual storytelling remains confined to its original intent—especially when it resonates with audiences looking to project their own meaning onto it. For films like The Order, that paints a somewhat flattering picture of its subject, the risk may be even greater for appropriation, blurring the line between critique and admiration.

INTRODUCTION

The 2018 Brazilian presidential elections were characterised by political and electoral polarisation built from the ideological precepts bolstered by the Workers’ Party (Partido do Trabalhador – PT) and the Social Liberal Party (Partido Social Liberal – PSL). The antagonistic evidence in the relationship around these two political parties was constituted by the speeches of the main subjects (candidates Fernando Haddad and Jair Bolsonaro, respectively) and were built from their discursive formations following two opposing lines of thought.

Bolsonaro appeared as an alternative to the Workers’ Party (henceforth denominated as PT), which had been in power since President Lula’s election in 2003. The years leading up to 2018 were characterised by corruption scandals, the impeachment of President Dilma Rousseff (2016), economic downfall, and an increase in criminality (Layton et al. 2021). Thus, it is possible to say that the Brazilian political landscape, at the time of the 2018 elections, was propitious to feelings of revolt, exasperation, and the demand for change.

Drawing from those circumstances, Bolsonaro came forth and promised the people that his government would solve the problem of criminality, whose source was, according to him, none other than the government of PT. By assuring the people that he would put an end to PT’s “ideological grip” on the country, Bolsonaro stood as the candidate who would finally make Brazil safe.

EASY SOLUTION

A method through which Bolsonaro took advantage of criminality as a wicked problem (Selg 2020) is by communicating ‘easy solutions’ to Brazilians by means of emotive and phatic communication styles (ibid.). It seems that people can be coaxed into accepting ‘absurd’ solutions to the wicked problem of criminality, as contextualised by one of Bolsonaro’s quotes, stated during his campaign in the South of Brazil (Hupsel Filho 2018):

”It is inherent to the human being to carry a weapon. If someone is armed, I have to be too. We have to be on the same level. If a guy two metres tall comes to attack me, how will I, a short guy, defend myself?” ^[1](Curitiba city, Santa Catarina state, March 28^th, 2018).

The characteristics of wicked problems comprise two different sets. On the one hand, they give information about the problem, i.e. that wicked problems are especially difficult to define and to narrow down (Selg 2020). In this way, the problem of criminality is difficult to pinpoint, as there are hundreds of different problems that can merge under this umbrella term, including everything from cyberattacks to homicides – as long as they are characterised as something against the law. As the problem of criminality is unclear, it can be anything that Bolsonaro sees as effective for his purposes. In the case of the above quote, it is implied that it should be criminal that somebody who is two metres tall can attack you while you, being physically smaller, are not able to defend yourself. The mere threat of a potential enemy seems to be enough and that the only envisioned way forward is to acquire a weapon.

Communication styles such as this feed on the emotions and fears of its listeners. The audience can thus identify itself with these forms, as public appeals to stereotypes, common situations and stories are used to fortify the connection of symbolic messages and its listeners. Here, such a narrative is built that there is only one inherent solution, when actually other solutions could be more justified.

This brings us to the actual solution and the second set of characteristics of wicked problems. The solution to a wicked problem is not easily apparent and there might be repercussions for trying out different solutions (Selg 2020). In Bolsonaro’s quote above, we see that Bolsonaro advocates that there is an easy/only solution, i.e. just carry a weapon. In this way, you can defend yourself, no matter who comes up against you.

What Bolsonaro is actually doing however, is deproblematizing a wicked problem and possible policy interventions against it, deflecting this as a person’s individual responsibility of self-defence instead as that of the state and judicial bodies. This works because people have become frustrated with the current state of corruption and are hungry for change and justice, which Bolsonaro’s party manifesto offers (Burst et al. 2020). In this way, people would rather take this form of ‘illusioned empowerment’ – which comes packaged in very emotive language – than continuing with the current status quo.

COMPLEX EVALUABILITY

As a wicked problem, criminality is hard to define, thus it would be difficult to measure how much Bolsonaro’s government led to its decrease. Firstly, it is challenging to account for all variables which may or may not influence the criminality rate in Brazil. This is because by the ‘virtue of its wickedness’, criminality can be a sign of other problems (Selg 2020). Crime rate may be in causal relations with, for instance, the economy (UNODC 2012). At the same time, short-term results of interventions for decreasing criminality are mostly not conclusive and sometimes misleading. As such, the Pernabuco Program in Brazil invested in the decrease of homicides by 33% (Chainey 2019, §12). However, after 2015, its effectiveness fell down and the homicide rate reached its highest level in 2017 (ibid). This is to illustrate that solutions to criminality cannot be easily evaluated in a short-term perspective. Moreover, any solution to criminality has an irreversible effect, since human lives are at stake. All these features put criminality in the category of wicked problems (Selg 2020).

Furthermore, criminality is not restricted to just homicides. As noted previously, criminality is an umbrella term. In case of authoritarian populism (Selg 2020), the latter may open possibilities for a policy maker to focus only on the component of a given problem, which favours their position. When employing such a reductionist approach, Bolsonaro may argue that the rate of violent deaths, for instance, has decreased in Brazil (Lisboa 2019). An illustrative example of this is Bolsonaro’s speech at the UN General Assembly meeting in 2019, when he mentioned the 20% decrease in homicides (Verdélio 2019, § 9).

The latter may be used to support his pre-electoral promise illustrated in the party manifesto and his speeches. It is worth mentioning that, although the violent deaths rate has been decreasing since 2017 (Lisboa 2019), the power of organized criminal groups has increased (Berg and Varsori 2020).

To sum up, criminality as a wicked problem requires complex logical models for statistical analysis. However, even the latter is possible only when narrowing down criminality to one of its components. Therefore, there is an open room for a reductionist approach, which according to Selg (2020) is peculiar to authoritarian populism, as well as data manipulation for the sake of gaining public support.

ANTI-PT

During his electoral campaign in the North of Brazil, on September 3^rd, 2018, Bolsonaro stood on top of a sound truck and bellowed, while holding a rifle (Ribeiro 2018):

”We’re going to shoot PT-voters. I’m going to chase them away from our country.” ^[2] (Rio Branco city, Acre state, September 3, 2018).

It is worth noting that, by saying that he is going to shoot the people who vote for PT, Bolsonaro is implying that he is making the country safer. That is because, for Bolsonaro and his supporters, PT has been established as the source of all criminality. In this sense, the phrase above is not just a threat to all PT affiliates, it implies that they are the common (internal) enemy, and thus, PT becomes a signifier of criminality. As far as a solution for the problem of criminality, shooting people whose ideology differs from Bolsonaro’s is not a solution that can be understood as true or false. It is, instead, either good or bad, which once again allows us to characterise criminality as a wicked problem (Selg 2020).

On another instance, one can recognize traces of totalitarian populism in this quote. Bolsonaro exacerbates the antagonism between ‘us’ vs. ‘them’, meaning him and his supporters vs. PT and theirs. According to Selg (2020), totalitarianism has an intrinsic paradox, which can be exemplified through this quote. There is a clear social division: people who are ‘for-PT’ and people who are ‘against-PT’, which is to say ‘for-Bolsonaro’. However, this social division is seen as a problem. The ‘others’ must be chased away, they must leave the country, or otherwise be shot, in order for there to be no division.

Bolsonaro actively condemns all ideologies that are different from his own. Under this idea of homogenization of the way of thinking, lies the difference: ‘for-Bolsonaro’ vs. ‘for-PT’, friend vs. enemy (Schmidt 1932).

Hence, Bolsonaro needs PT as a reference point because it is the hate towards PT that totalized the people under his banner. PT had been in power for two decades and, after many political scandals (Layton et al. 2021), hate towards PT was preeminent. In this respect, one can identify here Laclau’s (1996) empty signifier. Along with this hate, the people were left with a ‘lack’: after so many years voting for PT, now that this party was no longer an option, the people were left with a feeling of ‘what else is left?’. And then comes Bolsonaro, representing the anti-PT, thus fulfilling this lack.

In summary, Bolsonaro needs PT to totalize his own supporters, and yet he promises to eliminate PT, because the party in question is the signifier of criminality. Bolsonaro relies on this division (us/them, friend/enemy), which is a division he is, in this quote, promising to get rid of.

CONCLUSIONS

I argued that Bolsonaro took advantage of the wicked problem of criminality to obtain public approval. Three motions or methods on how Bolsonaro was able to take characteristics of wicked problems and use them for his own political agenda are highlighted:

First, championing a seemingly ‘easy solution’ to pacify and give Brazilians a form of ‘illusioned empowerment’ against a wicked problem. Second, taking advantage of the immeasurability of the umbrella term ‘criminality’ for purposes of data selectiveness or manipulation. And third, benefitting from the good or bad evaluation around criminality, by branding the opposition, the Workers’ Party (PT), as a signifier for criminality, as something bad, and using this to totalize Brazilians against PT under his banner.

With these findings I want to showcase how utterances of authoritarian and totalitarian origins – phatic and emotive communications – can be dangerously effective when connected with wicked problems.

Understanding the limitations of wicked problems helps us to re-evaluate political promises, especially when these seem to contain empty words for the purpose of gaining public approval and power.

References

Burst, Tobias / Krause, Werner / Lehmann, Pola / Matthieß Theres / Merz, Nicolas / Regel, Sven / Weßels, Bernhard / Zehnter, Lisa (2020): The Manifesto Data Collection: South America. Version 2020b. Berlin: Wissenschaftszentrum Berlin für Sozialforschung (WZB). https://doi.org/10.25522/manifesto.mpdssa.2020b

Chainey, S., Muggah, R., & Giannini, R. A. (2019). Reducing Homicide in Brazil: Insights Into What Works. Americas Quarterly.Retrived from https://www.americasquarterly.org/article/reducing-homicide-in-brazil-insights-into-what-works/, 04.12.2021

Hupsel Filho, V. (2018, March 29). “Arma é garantia de nossa liberdade”, defende Bolsonaro em Curitiba. Estadão. Retrieved from https://politica.estadao.com.br/noticias/geral,arma-e-garantia-de-nossa-liberdade-defende-bolsonaro-em-curitiba,70002247541, 06.12.2021

Laclau, E., 1996a. Why do empty signifiers matter to politics?. In: E. Laclau, ed. Emancipation(s). London: Verso, 34–46.

Layton ML, Smith AE, Moseley MW, Cohen MJ. Demographic polarization and the rise of the far right: Brazil’s 2018 presidential election. Research & Politics. January 2021. doi:10.1177/2053168021990204

Ribeiro, J. (2018, September 3). “Vamos fuzilar a petralhada”, diz Bolsonaro em campanha no Acre. Exame. Retrieved from https://exame.com/brasil/vamos-fuzilar-a-petralhada-diz-bolsonaro-em-campanha-no-acre/, 06.12.2021

Schmitt, C. (1932). The concept of the political: Expanded edition. University of Chicago Press.

Selg, Peeter. (2020). A political-semiotic Explanation of wicked problems. Forthcoming In: Elżbieta Hałas, Nicolas Maslowski (Ed.). Politics of Symbolization Across Central and Eastern Europe. Berlin: Peter Lang.

United Nations. Office on Drugs and Criminality (2012).Economic crisis may trigger rise in crime. Retrieved from https://www.unodc.org/unodc/en/frontpage/2012/February/economic-crises-can-trigger-rise-in-crime.html, 25.11.2021

Verdélio Andreia (2019).In UN speech, Bolsonaro talks about socialism and religion.The president criticized Cuba, Venezuela, and religious intolerance. Agência Brasil. Retrived from https://agenciabrasil.ebc.com.br/en/politica/noticia/2019-09/un-speech-bolsonaro-talks-about-socialism-and-religion, 06.12.2021

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^[1] Originally: “É inerente do ser humano andar armado. Se alguém está armado eu tenho que estar também. Tem que nivelar. Se vier um cara de dois metros de altura me atacar, eu, que sou baixinho, vou me defender como?” (Hupsel Filho 2018). Translation by Heidi Campana Piva.

^[2] Originally: “Vamos fuzilar a petralhada. Eu vou botar esses picaretas para correr do nosso país.”
(Ribeiro 2018). Translation by Heidi Campana Piva.

The Cliquet effect, or ratchet effect, describes a phenomenon where processes or systems become difficult, if not impossible, to reverse once they have reached a certain stage. This concept, originally articulated by James Duesenberry in Income, Saving, and the Theory of Consumer Behavior (1949), finds applications across disciplines, from economics to politics and law. It also serves as a powerful metaphor for the creeping expansion of government measures during crises, particularly in the context of antiterrorism legislation.

This blog post explores how the Cliquet effect influences the trajectory of antiterrorism laws, using examples from various European countries, where initial emergency measures have often solidified into enduring policies, shaping governance and civil liberties in profound ways.

The Mechanics of the Cliquet Effect

The Cliquet effect borrows its name from the ratcheting mechanism in horology, which prevents a wheel from moving backward. Similarly, once a social, economic, or legal process crosses a certain threshold, it tends to resist reversal. The concept applies to human behavior—such as consumption habits that prove difficult to curtail—but it holds particular resonance in political systems. Governments often introduce extensive bureaucratic or legislative measures during crises, and once these systems are established, dismantling them becomes a formidable challenge.

For example, economist Robert Higgs, in his book Crisis and Leviathan, used this effect to explain the seemingly irreversible growth of government during crises. Wars and emergencies often justify unprecedented interventions, which later persist long after the crisis subsides. In democratic systems, Yves-Marie Adeline^[1] has argued that sociopolitical shifts—particularly those aligned with progressive ideologies—often become entrenched, as subsequent administrations lack either the will or the political capital to undo them.

The Cliquet Effect in Antiterrorism Legislation

The Cliquet effect is especially evident in antiterrorism legislation, where governments adopt extraordinary measures in response to immediate threats. These laws, though introduced as temporary safeguards, often evolve into permanent fixtures, reshaping the balance between national security and individual freedoms. The rationale is rooted in the political cost of reversing these measures: dismantling them risks exposing a nation to criticism or vulnerability, even if the original threat has diminished.

European Case Studies

A few examples of the Cliquet effect in action count the case of France. Indeed, following the Paris terrorist attacks in November 2015, the country declared a state of emergency (état d’urgence), granting authorities sweeping powers to conduct searches, impose curfews, and restrict gatherings. Initially meant to last 12 days, the state of emergency was extended multiple times and lasted nearly two years. In 2017, many of its provisions were codified into the French security law, effectively making permanent what was initially temporary.

In the same idea, the UK has long grappled with terrorism, and its Prevent strategy, part of the broader counterterrorism framework, illustrates the Cliquet effect in action. Introduced to prevent radicalization, Prevent mandates surveillance and reporting responsibilities for teachers, healthcare workers, and other public servants. While the program has faced criticism for stigmatizing communities and eroding trust, successive governments have expanded rather than scaled it back.

Lastly, Spain’s experience with terrorism—particularly from ETA and later Islamist groups—has led to stringent antiterrorism laws. The expansion of police powers, limitations on judicial review, and broad definitions of terrorism have drawn criticism for potentially undermining freedoms. Yet, reversing these measures remains politically sensitive, especially in light of recurring security threats.

Legal Foundations and the Irreversibility of Rights

Interestingly, and on a lighter note, the Cliquet effect operates not only to expand government powers but also to safeguard fundamental rights. In France, for instance, the Constitutional Council has invoked the effect to protect liberties from regression. Notable decisions, such as those concerning press freedoms and academic autonomy, have established that laws reducing fundamental rights are unconstitutional unless they provide equivalent or enhanced protections.This dual nature of the Cliquet effect underscores its complexity: while it can entrench restrictive measures, it can also serve as a bulwark against the erosion of rights. In the realm of antiterrorism, however, the balance often tilts toward security at the expense of liberties.

In the same idea, several antiterrorism laws have been repealed or allowed to expire once the immediate threat they were enacted to address subsided. For instance, in the United States, provisions of the USA PATRIOT Act, including the controversial Section 215 that allowed mass telephone metadata collection, were permitted to expire in 2020. Similarly, the United Kingdom’s Defence of the Realm Act, which granted extensive wartime powers during World War I, was repealed in 1921 after the war ended. In Spain, harsh anti-terrorism laws implemented during Francisco Franco’s dictatorship were dismantled following his death as the country transitioned to democracy. South Africa’s Internal Security Act, used to suppress dissent during apartheid, was repealed in 1991 during the country’s democratization. In Italy, emergency anti-terrorism measures introduced during the politically turbulent “Years of Lead” were gradually rolled back as stability returned. These examples highlight how countries often roll back extraordinary powers granted during crises, though this process frequently occurs under significant public and political pressure.

Lessons and Reflections

The Cliquet effect reveals the paradox of governance during crises: the measures we adopt to address immediate dangers often outlast their utility, embedding themselves into the fabric of law and policy. In the case of antiterrorism legislation, this dynamic poses critical questions for democratic societies. How can we ensure that extraordinary measures do not become ordinary governance? What safeguards can prevent the gradual erosion of freedoms under the guise of security?

As the various European examples show, reversing antiterrorism laws is rare, even when the threat landscape changes. Addressing this requires a conscious effort to design legislation with built-in sunset clauses, periodic reviews, and robust oversight mechanisms. Without these safeguards, the Cliquet effect risks becoming a ratchet not only on government expansion but also on the fundamental freedoms that underpin democratic life.

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^[1]   Adeline, Yves-Marie. La Droite impossible. Éditions Godefroy de Bouillon, 2012. (Revised edition of La Droite piégée, 1996).

RELIGION, CONSPIRACY THEORIES, RADICALIZATION, AND FUNDAMENTALISM

Dawson (2024: 142) criticizes the stance taken by largely secular contemporary scholars who tend to be suspicious of the “primacy and/or authenticity of religious commitments”, seeing them as non-rational. To most, “recognising the religiousness of the [radicalization] process seems to diminish the capacity to explain it”, in a way that such scholars end up searching for different reasons (e.g. psychological and social motivations) as to why people may come to be radicalized (Ibid). Nevertheless, it is not possible to overlook the role of religion in this matter, since it “covers strategies for legitimising and delegitimising claims to authority, moral behaviour and ideas about what is the correct relation to other social groups” (Dyrendal 2020: 372). Besides, “there is no important practical difference between terrorism on behalf of political ideology and that on behalf of religion” (Coolsaet 2024: 44).

Broadly, Dyrendal (2020) describes three kinds of dynamics that can be used to describe the relationships between conspiracy theories and religion: 

a) conspiracy theories in religion,

b) conspiracy theory as religion, and 

c) conspiracy theories about religion. 

The first one (conspiracy theories in religion) deals “with different sets of conspiracy beliefs ideologically attuned to the particular religious group and circumstance”, the second (conspiracy theory as religion) “centres on the philosophical and psychological underpinnings of ideation”, and the last (conspiracy theories aboutreligion) “focuses on ingroup/outgroup dynamics in complex socio-political situations” (Ibid, 371).

Conspiracy theories in religion relate mostly to authority and power, since they are usually employed to delegitimize those that are seen as enemies. Of course, different religions have different power structures, and this will affect their dynamics with conspiracy theories. The latter can be “used both from the top down (by those in power) and from the bottom up (by the powerless and to criticise power)” (Önnerfors 2021: 26), in a way that more marginalised religions frequently use conspiracy theories as a language of opposition while heterodox or mainstream religions use them as a language of counter-subversion (Dyrendal 2020: 381).

An example of this was the case of the Brazilian Senator Damares Alves who detailed, during an evangelical worship in 2022, a conspiracy involving sexual child slaves, following the style of QAnon. As Pastor, Damares Alves publicly described (in horrifying detail) the workings of this supposed case of sexual abuse of children in the Island of Marajó, Northeastern Brazil. The conspiracy theory she chronicled during the worship was immediately followed by a discourse regarding how the then-President Jair Bolsonaro was the only one fighting to end such activities. The Pastor/Senator stated: “The war against Bolsonaro, which the press has raised, which the Supreme Court has raised, which Congress has raised, believe me, is not a political war. It is a spiritual war.” (Duchiade 2022, translated by the author). What is possible to see in this case was the wielding of religious sensibilities in the service of political interests through the direct application of a conspiracy theory. The Church’s role “as guardian of threatened, traditional values in the face of internal and external threats is a common conspiracy trope, and its role as violated victim of evil a common trope of the culture wars” (Dyrendal 2020: 376). The interests of the Brazilian Evangelical Church, represented by Pastor Damares Alves, became intertwined with the interests of Bolsonaro’s political party. The Church was thus “playing a supporting role in the symbolic assertion” (Ibid, 377) of Bolsonaro as president.

Nevertheless, it’s important to note that “religion does not play a simple, unified role” (Ibid, 381), in a way that when faced with such cases, we must always ask “who speaks, in what context and for which interests, as well as about what authority they claim” (Dyrendal 2020: 381). Damares Alves does not speak for all evangelicals in Brazil, but it is unquestionable that her spread of this conspiracy theory had an effect over a considerable portion of the nation.

It is also important to highlight that “religious adherence does not necessarily predict specific conspiracy beliefs one way or the other” (Ibid, 375). In fact, there are examples of religious leaders helping to combat anti-vaccination campaigns by providing “theological arguments for vaccines being acceptable”, including the “production of halal-certified vaccines”, showing how religious authority was adopted “to oppose the crisis narrative the conspiracy theory presented” (Ibid, 378) – an example of how conspiracy theories in religion can have positive outcomes. It is still possible to state that “some types of religion seem to have a higher, more general propensity towards conspiracy beliefs than others”, which is the case with fundamentalist groups, who are “more likely to have apocalyptic expectations” and Manicheist views (Ibid, 375).

More specifically, ‘fundamentalism’ is here understood as a modern ideology, measure, or action that is reactionary towards modern developments (rejects current liberal ethics, science, or technology) and is based on a historical narrative presented in terms of cosmic dualism, that is, the notion of paradise and a fall from it (adapted from Peels 2023: 743).

On a similar note, it is possible to argue that New Age religions/spirituality are also shown to feature “overlaps with belief in conspiracy theories – so-called ‘conspirituality’” (Önnerfors 2021: 29). Conspirituality refers to a politico-spiritual philosophy based on convictions that, although religious/spiritual in nature, are presented in the form of a conspiracy theory, where: the social order is secretly controlled by an unenlightened group of people and the only salvation is in the ‘paradigm shift in consciousness’ that will promote an awakened worldview (adapted from Demuru 2022). In these cases, we are dealing with conspiracy theory as religion.

Serving “either to consolidate or destabilise power relationships, depending on who has conjured them and in what context”, modern conspiracy theories substitute “previous conceptions of divine will or fate”, situating “the agency and power to intervene in human affairs within the realm of pre-political or pre-social order, or within hidden human (sometimes alien) dimensions of organised darkness and invisibility where they develop and unfold their force” (Önnerfors & Krouwel 2021: 259). In other words, “by giving the impression of being scientific while at the same time providing answers to existential questions (without explaining them in purely religious terms),” conspiracy theories “can thus be regarded as part of the political religion within a more secular society”, being “more easily accepted by people who do not define themselves as religious” (Önnerfors 2021: 29).

This view of conspiracy theory as religion thus regards the idea that the former is replacing the later by exerting its functions in a now more secularized society. However, this notion can be questioned, since it is first of all not possible to state that we have more conspiracy theories today than during a time when religious adherence was supposedly stronger, and also because “religion is usually not negatively correlated with conspiracy beliefs”, suggesting the two go hand-in-hand, rather than one replacing the other (Dyrendal 2020: 373). Instead of thinking of conspiracy theory as a substitute of religion, we may think of the ways in which conspiracy theory can be seen as a form of religion. In this regard, Ladini (2022: 34-35) suggests “caution when arguing about similarities between individual religiosity and conspiracy beliefs”, recommending “to always consider which dimensions of religiosity” are being accounted for “when analysing the association between the two concepts”. Dyrendal (2020: 373) suggests two main dimensions: the social and the epistemic. The epistemic regards the status of both religion and conspiracy theories as alternative/counter-knowledge, while the social is related to the how they both organise collective identities on the basis of in-group and out-group (Ibid).

According to Önnerfors (2021: 29), the narrative structure of conspiracy thinking “is closely related to myths, intuitive explanations of the world through reference to supernatural forces which have the power to intervene in and influence people’s lives”. As such, conspiracy theories “convey clearly religiously coded ideas about the dualistic battle between good and evil (theodicy) and ideas about Judgment Day (eschatology)” (Ibid). Additionally, both conspiracy theories and religion “present a worldview that is largely teleological, and they present parallel epistemologies that make claims ‘unfalsifiable’” (Dyrendal 2020: 372). Other cognitive factors that underlie both conspiracy and religious beliefs are “the proclivity to see intention as a cause”, as well as “increased holistic, intuitive, symbolic and magical thinking, which again correlate to an increase in the tendency towards seeing things as related in meaningful patterns” (Ibid, 375), and the “attribution of agency to hidden forces” (Ladini 2022: 35). In this sense, although I would not argue that conspiracy theories and religion are the same, it may be possible to see conspiracy theories as working in a similar way to that of religious belief systems, since they can both represent a “resource for understanding the world, for identity construction, for ordering social relations, and for gaining or disputing authority and power” (Dyrendal 2020: 380-381).

As for conspiracy theories about religion, I would like to highlight my case-study, the Eurabia conspiracy theory. Bergman (2021: 37) traces the origins of this narrative to “several influential publications” that “have warned of an Islamist conspiracy of occupying the West”. The first one pointed out by the author is the 1973 dystopian novel Le Camp des Saints by French writer Jean Raspail, which “depicts the cultural demise of Western civilisation through mass migration of sex-crazed Indians” (Ibid, 38). However, this “fear of cultural subversion is, though, only the first part of the full conspiracy theory”, whose “completion usually also takes the form of accusing a domestic elite of betraying the ‘good ordinary people’ into the hands of the external evil”. This core message was also prevalent in the book Eurabia – The Euro-Arab Axis by Giséle Littman, an influential text to the conspiracy theory which maintains that “ever since the early 1970s, the European Union was secretly conspiring with the Arab League to bring about a ‘Eurabia’ on the continent” (Ibid, 39). Additionally, the book While Europe Slept – How Radical Islam Is Destroying the West from Within by an American author called Bruce Bawer was also highlighted by Bergman, this time expanding the conspiracy 

Similar to Eurabia, the Great Replacement became popular after the “deeply controversial French philosopher, Renaud Camus, used it for the title of his book published in 2011”, in which “he argued that European civilisation and identity was at risk of being subsumed by mass migration, especially from Muslim countries, and because of low birth rates among the native French people” (Ibid, 37). The conspiracy theory thus expands on this idea, stating that the predominantly white Christian population of Western countries is being progressively replaced by Muslims or other groups of migrants due to the secret orchestrations of malignant internal forces that seek the extinction of native populations (adapted from Krouwel & van Prooijen 2021; Bergmann 2021; Gualda 2021; Önnerfors 2021).

Generally, the Eurabia and The Great Replacement conspiracy theories have “often become entangled in a more general opposition to immigration” (Bergmann 2021: 40), connected to political statements of failed integration (Ekman 2022: 1128), that turn immigration into an ‘invasion’ that threatens people’s culture and identity. A different facet of this interpreted ‘invasion’ is reflected on the fears surrounding the fall in the birth rates of the European population, which is often referred to as ‘demographic suicide’ – the idea that Europe is “‘systematically depopulating itself’; meanwhile, Europe’s Muslims appear to be dreaming of filling this vacuum” (Gualda 2021: 60).

The Eurabia and related conspiracy theories have been among “the most fast-growing amongst Neo-Nationalists, rooting in countries like Austria, Denmark, Germany, Italy and the UK”, as well as the Netherlands and Belgium (Bergmann, 2021: 37). They have “progressed through all three waves of Neo-Nationalism” (Bergmann 2021: 48-49). During the first wave (the Oil Crisis of the 1970s), they “still only thrived on the periphery of European politics”, becoming “much more prominent in the second wave [(post-collapse of communism)], especially after the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001”. However, it was in the third wave (the financial crisis of 2008), “that the Eurabia theory moved firmly into the mainstream, especially after the refugee crisis of 2015”, which “brought the Eurabia theory to new heights” (Ibid). Nowadays, it is common to find political leaders who propagate such conspiracy theories (Ekman 2022: 1127), which points to how “radicalization can be induced by state actors (especially those dependent upon electoral support mechanisms)” (Steiner & Önnerfors 2018: 12).

As such, radicalization, and its use of religious conspiracy theories (or conspiracy theories about religion) can be potentially seen as agenda setting, leading to a moment when a formerly radical position becomes normalized (Ibid, 21) – as is the case with the rapid swing to the right taken by western countries over the last decade. It has been pointed out how populists often “make use of various other conspiracy theories to persuade potential constituents into believing that they are the real outsiders able to fight back against the concerted machinations of the (political) establishment” (Harambam 2020: 3), when in fact they are frequently part of it. As formerly radicalized expressions get to the mainstream, the radical achieves the potential of its transformative power (Steiner & Önnerfors 2018). And the religious dimensions or aspects contained or instrumentalized in such conspiracy theories cannot be ignored.

REFERENCES

Bergmann, E. (2021). The Eurabia conspiracy theory. In: Önnerfors, A., & Krouwel, A. (Eds.), Europe: Continent of Conspiracies: Conspiracy Theories in and about Europe. Routledge, 36-53.

Coolsaet, R. (2024). The emergence and expansion of a contentious concept. In: Busher, J., Malkki, L., & Marsden, S. (Eds.), The Routledge Handbook on Radicalisation and Countering Radicalisation. Routledge, 34-52.

Dawson, L. L. (2024). Insights from the study of new religious movements into the process of radicalisation. In: Busher, J., Malkki, L., & Marsden, S. (Eds.), The Routledge Handbook on Radicalisation and Countering Radicalisation. Routledge, 132-149.

Demuru, P. (2022). Qanons, anti-vaxxers, and alternative health influencers: a cultural semiotic perspective on the links between conspiracy theories, spirituality, and wellness during the Covid-19 pandemic, Social Semiotics, 32:5, 588-605.

Duchiade, A. (2022, October 11). Suposto abuso sexual contra crianças citado por Damares circula como ficção na internet desde 2010. O Globo. https://oglobo.globo.com/blogs/sonar-a-escuta-das-redes/noticia/2022/10/suposta-violencia-infantil-citada-por-damares-circula-como-ficcao-na-internet-desde-2010.ghtml

Dyrendal, A. (2020). Conspiracy Theory and Religion. In: Butter, M., Knight, P. (Eds.), Routledge Handbook of Conspiracy Theories. Routledge, 304-316.

Ekman, M. (2022). The great replacement: Strategic mainstreaming of far-right conspiracy claims. Convergence, 28(4), 1127-1143.

Gualda, E. (2021). Metaphors of Invasion, Imagining Europe as Endangered by Islamisation. In: Önnerfors, A., & Krouwel, A. (Eds.), Europe: Continent of Conspiracies: Conspiracy Theories in and about Europe. Routledge, 54-75.

Harambam, J. (2020). Contemporary Conspiracy Culture: Truth And Knowledge in An Era of Epistemic Instability. Routledge.

Krouwel, A., & van Prooijen, J. W. (2021). The new European order? Euroscepticism and conspiracy belief. In: Önnerfors, A., & Krouwel, A. (Eds.), Europe: Continent of Conspiracies: Conspiracy Theories in and about Europe. Routledge, 22-35.

Ladini, R. (2022). Religious and conspiracist? An analysis of the relationship between the dimensions of individual religiosity and belief in a big pharma conspiracy theory. Italian Political Science Review, 52(1), 33-50.

Önnerfors, A. (2021). Conspiracy theories and COVID-19: The mechanisms behind a rapidly growing societal challenge. Myndigheten för Samhällsskydd och Beredskap.

Önnerfors, A., & Krouwel, A. (2021).  Between Internal Enemies and External Threats; How conspiracy theories have shaped Europe – an introduction. In: Önnerfors, A., & Krouwel, A. (Eds.), Europe: Continent of Conspiracies: Conspiracy Theories in and about Europe. Routledge, 1-21.

Peels, R. (2023). On defining ‘fundamentalism’. Religious Studies, 59(4), 729-747.

Steiner, K., & Önnerfors, A. (2018). Expressions of Radicalization. Global Politics, Processes and Practices.Palgrave Macmillan.

Collective action research often centres around adolescents and younger adults while the focus on older people’s activism remains scarce (Schwarz, 2022). However, there are many movements that have been sprouting in various countries within and outside Europe “questioning the supposed passiveness associated with older people” (Blanche-T. & Fernández-Ardèvol, 2022, p. 10). What they have in common is that they are organized around a generational identity which becomes apparent in the names of their movement: “Iai@flautas” (iai@, Catalan term for grandparent), “Grannies Against the Right” (Austria, Germany, Italy, Switzerland), “Raging Grannies” (USA) or “Polish Grannies” (Poland). However, it is not used to fight for their specific generational causes, but it rather creates a “concomitant “family narrative” of generativity, that is, of caring for the younger generations” (Schwarz, 2022, p. 102). In this intergenerational solidarity, they are able to pass on their experiences with democracy which also becomes evident in the following interview with a grandma against the right activist. Tellingly, there are some parallels among these movements although they have risen on different grounds, in different places, at different times.

Grandmas against the Right is a civil society, non-partisan association initially founded in Austria in 2017 in response to a shift to the right following the election of Chancellor Sebastian Kurz and the right-wing populist Freedom Party. Later, similar groups have emerged in Germany, Italy and Switzerland. In this interview, I talk to an activist from the German “Grannies Against the Right” who has decided to remain politically active after her retirement. With many years of experience in political youth work, she has founded a new local group together with a friend. In this interview, she shares her motivations and challenges of her engagement and her wishes for the future of the initiative. She emphasizes the importance of taking action against right-wing tendencies, even in retirement, and describes how the group aims to have an impact not only in its immediate surroundings, but also across cultural and social groups, through courageous and unconventional approaches.

How did you get involved with Grannies Against the Right?

After I retired, I looked for opportunities to get involved as I did not have the time when I was working at the school. What I did there was exhausting enough and also very time-consuming. My experiences in youth education work and my political involvement during my student days motivated me to remain active in retirement. I first came into contact with politics as a student through the student union executive committee, the student council and all the demonstrations that took place there. That was a formative time for me in terms of my attitude and values. Among other things, I became aware of the “Omas gegen Rechts” (grannies against the right) through the newspaper. I was very taken with the idea that the “Omas gegen Rechts” are clearly against the right but are not affiliated with any political party. I found it very appealing that there should be such a broad cross-section of different political views. Together with a long-time friend, we founded our own group in our hometown after taking part in another local group. That was very exciting and was not that long ago. In the meantime, a group of 20 members has come together. 

How is your local group composed?

Some of us already knew each other, as the first group meeting consisted mainly of women we had spoken to personally – friends, colleagues or acquaintances. As we also announced it in the local newspaper, some came who were not directly from our professional field, but whom we knew from the local area or through previous initiatives. With every announcement in the press and our presence at events, the group continued to grow, so that we have now expanded beyond the circle of close friends and became more diverse. This diversity naturally entails different biographical backgrounds, which we see as an enrichment. While it can be more familiar and informal in a group with similar life stories, it is also more restrictive. Discussions are often more or less rehearsed. On the other hand, it becomes more diverse when women join who have previously done something completely different, and we would like that too. We would like to reach even more women from different social and cultural groups.

Do you also get in touch with other generations? 

Before the European elections, for example, we held conversations at train stations and bus stops, before or after school with adolescents. We tried to engage with the adolescents in conversations about the elections and passed on a pamphlet if we felt that the conversation was leading to something. The experience was positive: we were not treated unkindly, which created a good basis for exchange. One person even said she would pass on the letter to his class. We want to continue this experience, especially at secondary schools, where we thought about conducting workshops. Our aim is to talk about democratic values and share experiences in a friendly atmosphere, without lecturing or giving guidelines. We want to raise awareness and emphasize the importance of democracy without excluding justified criticism of social realities. We ourselves also have this criticism of social realities and politics. It is not the case that we agree with everything that happens, even if it is decided and implemented by democratic parties. It is important that we are transparent about that in the school context. We are not yet sure how we will contact schools, whether we will use exhibitions as an opportunity for discussion or find a cooperation with already existing initiatives. In other places, there are already collaborations with elementary schools and daycare centres, engaging with books about diversity and tolerance. In addition to schools, we would also like to be present at demonstrations and events in the city and work together with other initiatives, for example on specific days of remembrance. Our contacts from our professional background offer many opportunities to get involved here.

How are you perceived from the outside? 

We do not have that much experience in the group yet, but the response at previous events has been very positive and we were able to attract new people interested in our next group meeting. Of course, we sometimes come across people who have completely different opinions, especially those who hold conspiracy ideas. In such cases, it is difficult to be perceived positively. Nevertheless, we have learned how to start a conversation in such cases. It is not necessarily about changing someone’s opinion but fostering an exchange that moves away from an aggressive tone and makes it possible to talk about backgrounds and motives. At the same time, we have also received a lot of encouragement. Many people tell us that they think what we do is important, even if they do not want to participate themselves. Also, the municipality supports our initiative and actively approaches us to cooperate with us.

What does this engagement mean to you personally? 

It is definitely a good feeling not to stand idly by and watch the reports on TV or in the media and think, “this is getting worse and worse.” In the past, people might have thought that the AfD (“Alternative for Germany”) would disappear at some point. But that has changed, and the party is very persistent. I also find it a bit difficult that the focus is often placed on the East, while similar problems also exist here in the West. However, we actually have a more comfortable situation in western Germany, as we can fall back on existing contacts and initiatives that defend democratic values in a similar way to us. In East Germany, the commitment is often more dangerous, as right-wing activities have become more established there, as other granny groups report. Especially in the run-up to the state elections, there is therefore a desire for support in the region. The whole thing has also changed my attitude. I have always believed that greater vigilance in the 1930s could have helped prevent the rise of fascism. Today I see the system, the connections and the power behind it and understand how challenging it is to counteract it. That is why I think we all need to take action.

What do you wish for the future of Grannies Against the Right?

I would like our group to be braver and dare to surprise people with a cheeky and colourful appearance. At the moment, we are still a fairly serious group, but I think it would be important to be unexpected and perhaps even a little crazy – something that is not normally expected of grannies. This approach has also often been successful in my work at school because it makes people think and shakes up their expectations. I hope that we in our group will find the courage to present ourselves to the public in a planned but surprisingly creative way.

I also hope that we can reach out to refugees and migrants and integrate them into our group in order to become more culturally diverse. This is the only way we can reach out to other population groups and spread our messages, initiatives and activities more widely in society.

Sources

Blanche-T., D., & Fernández-Ardèvol, M. (2022). (Non-)Politicized Ageism: Exploring the Multiple Identities of Older Activists. Societies, 12(2), 40. https://doi.org/10.3390/soc12020040

Schwarz, C. H. (2022). Collective memory and intergenerational transmission in social movements: The “grandparents’ movement” iaioflautas , the indignados protests, and the Spanish transition. Memory Studies, 15(1), 102–119. https://doi.org/10.1177/1750698019856058

The recent academic conference held in Tallinn from September 25 to 27, 2024, brought together scholars to discuss the intricate interplay between populism, conspiracy theories, and the ongoing war against Ukraine. This gathering was part of PACT´s (Populism and Conspiracy Theory), last transfer conference and not only shed light on the rising prominence of conspiracy theories in contemporary politics but also examined their implications within democratic frameworks. While not directly linked to my own research topic, these discussions sparked valuable and modern questions, easily translatable to any field of contemporary research. Below is a summary of a few key discussions and findings from the event.

On the first day, Scott Radnitz opened the conference with a thought-provoking presentation titled “The Mainstreaming of Conspiracy.” He argued that while belief in conspiracy theories may not be increasing, their normalization within political discourse is evident. Candidates, parties, and movements now feel comfortable endorsing these theories, often using them as tools for transgression, authenticity, and to shape political identity.

Radnitz posited that conspiracy theories serve more as reflections of societal critiques than as factual assertions. Politicians like Trump and Putin exemplify this phenomenon, as they harness conspiratorial rhetoric to resonate with voters’ frustrations. However, he cautioned that while conspiracy theories may gain traction, they can alienate certain voter segments, illustrating the complexity of their appeal in various contexts, such as Kyrgyzstan and pre-invasion Ukraine.

In the following panel, chaired by Massimo Leone, scholars explored the symbolic links between populism and conspiracy theories. Giacomo Loperfido examined the Italian 5 Stars Movement, revealing its evolution from an informal collective against established parties to a more structured entity. This transformation illustrates how populist movements can both embrace and expel radical ideas as they seek legitimacy.

Simona Stano analyzed how figures such as Bill Gates have become scapegoats within conspiracy narratives, particularly during the COVID-19 pandemic. The intertwining of conspiracy theories with social media, celebrity endorsements, and memes demonstrates how certain narratives take root in public consciousness, creating powerful archetypes of ‘elite’ villains.

Itai Siegel‘s research into the Netherlands highlighted the struggles of democratic actors confronting conspiracy rhetoric. Through interviews with civil servants, he found that responses varied significantly, revealing a duality in approach: some aimed to understand the underlying motivations of conspiracy believers, while others adopted a more rigid stance, viewing conspiracy theories as extremist threats. This illustrates the challenge democracies face in addressing conspiratorial thinking without undermining democratic principles.

As discussions continued, the focus shifted to the impact of propaganda on polarization. The second panel examined how conspiracy theories act as multimodal drivers of division within societies. A collaborative study by researchers from the University of Amsterdam explored how Russian disinformation has been appropriated by Dutch conspiracy communities, revealing a complex interplay of literal and cultural translations of propaganda.

In this panel, I had the opportunity to hear my colleague Heidi Piva‘s presentation on radicalization processes in European Telegram groups, on which she wrote an interesting blog post.

On the second day, the focus shifted to the relationship between populism, denialism, and trust in democratic institutions. Research by Susana Salgado and colleagues revealed that supporters of populism are more likely to express distrust in political systems and exhibit belief in conspiracy theories. This connection raises questions about the future of democracy in contexts where distrust and conspiracy thinking become normative.

Massimo Leone’s innovative discourse on “stochastic populism” compared the nature of timekeeping to knowledge creation, emphasizing the need for constant calibration in understanding truth and reality. His insights on the role of technology, particularly AI, in amplifying electoral noise added a contemporary layer to discussions on trust and governance.

The final panels explored the ramifications of conspiracy theories within the context of the Russian war against Ukraine. Scholars such as Andreas Ventsel and Daria Khlevnyuk discussed how historical narratives and conspiracy thinking have shaped Russian nationalist rhetoric surrounding the conflict. They illustrated the strategic use of conspiracy theories to justify aggressive actions and frame the conflict within a broader historical context.

Oksana Belova-Dalton and Anastasiya Astapova examined the dynamics of conspiracy theories among Russian-speaking communities in Estonia, highlighting how the war has exacerbated existing divisions and fostered a climate of mistrust.

To conclude, the Tallinn conference illuminated the profound effects of conspiracy theories on contemporary politics, particularly in the context of populism and conflict. As conspiratorial thinking becomes more mainstream, it poses significant challenges for democratic societies striving to maintain integrity and trust. Understanding the narratives that shape public perception will be crucial in addressing the complex relationship between politics, identity, and belief systems in an increasingly polarized world. 

While the discussion rang the end note of the PACT project, it´s food for thought will long outlive it as it served as a critical and nuanced reminder of the need for vigilance in protecting democratic values against the tide of conspiracy-driven rhetoric. As scholars and practitioners continue to analyze these dynamics, the implications for the future of democracy remain ever more pressing.