Category: Blog

INTRODUCTION

White Genocide conspiracy theories surround the notion that native white people of predominantly white countries are being dis/replaced with alien people of colour as a result of a hostile alliance between domestic and foreign political-economic elites. This idea has been traced all the way back to pre-World War II, with antisemitic conspiracy theories narrating the existence of a Jewish plot to destroy Europe through miscegenation, having deep historical roots in French nationalism (Davis 2025), especially with the book The Uprooted (1897) by Maurice Barrès. In the XIX century, it was common for nationalist politicians to compare France’s low birth-rate with the high birth-rates of East-Asian countries of that time (Anderson 2014). From such negative comparisons, the fear of Asian mass-migration arose. More recently, scholars often cite the book The Great Replacement (2011) by another French author called Renaud Camus as a relevant contribution to the conspiracy theory, this time targeting Muslims and other migrants from North Africa and the Middle East (Bergmann 2021).

In general, White Genocide conspiracy theories highlight the fear of cultural subversion, accusing a domestic internal elite of betraying the native white people into the hands of an external evil. Intrinsically tied with ani-immigration discourses, these conspiracy theories presuppose three states: First, a paradisical past; the Good Old Days when Europe/North America were only populated by Caucasians (at least in the interpretations of these conspiracy theorists). Then, a present danger; white people are disappearing due to immigration and low birth rates. And lastly, the envisioning of a better future; plans for making Europe/North America return to their supposed cultural, ethnic, and religious roots.

In concise terms, conspiracy theory can be defined as a representation in the form of a narrative that seeks to explain a determined circumstance as being the result of a secret plan implemented by a morally evil group of people that, if left unstopped, will lead to catastrophe (adapted from Birchall 2006 and Önnerfors 2021). From this, the definition of the White Genocide conspiracy theory may be that there is scheme by political and economic elites in predominantly white countries to cause the extinction of what are perceived as native white populations through the promotion of miscegenation, multicultural and racial integration policies, mass immigration, low fertility rates and abortion of native people, and organised violence (adapted from Jackson 2015 and Davis 2025).

The aim of this research is to identify language patterns that can potentially assist in the semiotic modelling / codification of cultural meanings and in the formation of white-supremacist ideological clusters on social media. The research question that guides this study is: What types of signs, texts, and codes structure the White Genocide conspiracy theory?

MATERIALS AND METHODS

Unfortunately, even though the Telegram channel itself is public, I am unable to share its name as it is sensitive information protected by the European General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). The data that I obtained from the channel was the textual (non-pictorial) content of messages sent from its administrator to the channel’s subscribers (which amount to more than 22 thousand accounts). The messages were collected from January 1^st, 2023, to December 31^st, 2024, totalling more than 4 thousand messages, varying in length.

The method of analysis is still being developed. I am working in partnership with the Computational Linguistics department of the University of Turin to refine available tools for the analysis of right-wing conspiracy theories. We are applying what is called Semantic Annotation with Linguistic Inquiry Word Count (LIWC) using the vocabulary from the Moral Foundations Dictionary (MFD). I will explain shortly how this works.

ANNOTATION PIPELINE

The first step was the entity selection – that is, choosing specific instances (people and organizations) that are interesting subjects of discourse. Basically, I was looking for specific texts potentially discuss certain topics of interest for analysis. The software is able to identify people and organizations on itself, however it does not understand that, for instance, UN and U.N. are the same thing. Therefore, when I was selecting the subjects of interest, I had to also compile the different ways that the same person/org could show up in the dataset, as you can see in this screenshot I took. 

On the left, there are the outputs that the software automatically generated and on the right there are my list of interesting entities and how they may appear. After making a list of interesting entities, we generated random samples for annotation. Three sets (for 3 annotators) of 400 messages (each) were randomly assembled from the total of all texts containing the selected entities. This way, each annotator would be able to read and annotate a set of 400 messages. But what does annotating actually mean?

Simply put, text annotation is adding a tag to a text excerpt. Basically, we are teaching the computer to understand which terms and expressions have similar semantics and share common contexts so that they can be represented in space close to each other or have the same representation. This way, meaning is approximated so that words can be represented in a lower dimensional space.

The idea is that, once the dataset is annotated, LIWC will able to – for a given text input – return output lists of words falling into each category. These are the meaningful that we are mapping:

• pronouns – first-person / third-person / singular / plural
• ingroup-outgroup language – us vs. them; native vs. alien/foreign; white identity vs. racial resentment
• concerns- work, leisure, home, money, death…
• time orientation – past, present, future + sentiment polarity in relation to time – negative view of the present / positive view of the past? What about the future?
• affective processes – positive emotions (joy, safety, celebratory feelings, trust…); negative (anxiety, anger, disgust, sadness, fear); and neutral (anticipation, surprise…)

With those interests in mind, the third step was the definition of the taxonomy, that is, deciding on specific categories to annotate the texts with. These are the categories that I came up with, believing them to be useful for analysis of conspiracy theory structure:

• enemy / out-group / them
• victims
• in-group / us
• evil plan / evil deed
• mis/disinformation
• glorified past / reactionary
• fear of the future
• danger of the present

For instance, in a given text we have “concerned citizens” as the in-group. Then, we have the sentence that states that “activism today quickly turns violent” in contrast with the idea that this was not the case with activism in the past (danger of the present). The sentence “issues ignored by the mainstream” indicate that these problems are secret, conferring the conspiratorial aspect to the text. On another text, the ‘evil plan / evil deed’ category is labelled onto a sentence stating “loss of 1.3 million more jobs while foreign-born workers gained more than 1.2 million.” Also the expression “erasing your existence” has been found to be very telling of the White Genocide conspiracy theory in these texts.

FINAL REMARKS

But so far I’m confident that this is a good way to help scholars to quickly gain insights from these huge datasets. This white supremacist channel does not only disseminate White Genocide conspiracy theories, but by teaching the computer to understand and summarize what are the out-groups, in-groups, victims, evil plans, present danger, and fear of the future for each text, one can easily paint the picture of the main structure of a conspiracy theory narrative, allowing scholars to not just identify their presence in a dataset, but also understand their main elements and how they are related, without having to go through the whole textual content. Since we’re still developing this, I cannot say with 100% certainty that it will work, but I believe in the relevance of trying. And if it doesn’t work, at least I’ll have a map of why it didn’t work and how future research may develop better ways to do this same thing.

REFERENCES

Anderson, M. C. (2014). Regeneration Through Empire: French Pronatalists and Colonial Settlement in the Third Republic. University of Nebraska Press. p. 25.

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

Davis, M. (2025). Violence as method: the “white replacement”, “white genocide”, and “Eurabia” conspiracy theories and the biopolitics of networked violence. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 48(3), 426-446.

Jackson, P. (2015). ‘White genocide’: Postwar fascism and the ideological value of evoking existential conflicts. In The Routledge history of genocide (pp. 207-226). Routledge.

Birchall, C. (2006). Knowledge goes pop: From conspiracy theory to gossip. Berg Publishers.

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

Research covering the role of religion in the right-wing populist discourse often adopts the frame of “instrumentalization”, hijacking, exploitation, or even weaponization to explain the strategic use of religion for political gain (Giorgi, 2022). For instance, Samaras (2025) analyses and compares how three far-right Greek parties – Greek Solution, Victory, and Voice of Reason – draw on religious narratives to advance exclusionary politics between 2019 and 2024. He goes on to claim weaponization of Greek Orthodox Christianity by the far-right parties to adopt nationalism, xenophobia, and anti-progressive ideologies, often framed as resistance to so-called “woke” movements (Cammaerts, 2022). 

In 2016, a book called: Saving the people: how populists hijack religion (Marzouki et al.) analyzed mobilization of religion by the right-wing populists in 8 different countries: United States, Britain, France, Italy, Austria, the Netherlands, Poland and Israel. The authors concluded that for populists and their supporters, religion is not as much about belief as it is about belonging. But what if some of them see themselves as true believers—and reject this interpretation? 

This question has been taken up by scholars like Alberta Giorgi (2022), who examined how Salvini’s supporters themselves understand their religious identity. She challenged the common view that radical-right populist parties “instrumentalize” religion. She looked closely at what supporters of Matteo Salvini had to say—and found that they strongly reclaimed the legitimacy of their Christian identity. They openly opposed the “religion of the elites,” criticized the Catholic Church’s hierarchy, and promoted a form of “people’s religion” instead.

As Giorgi points out, this reclaiming of religion—positioned against traditional religious authorities and institutions—combined with an emphasis on the cultural side of Christianity, reflects a broader transformation in how religion functions today. In post-secular societies, both religion and politics have undergone processes of de-institutionalization and disintermediation. This means people are moving away from relying on established religious leaders and institutions and gaining more direct control over how they interpret and practice their faith.

From this perspective, political leaders aren’t simply “hijacking” religion—because religion is already active outside of traditional institutions. Supporters of radical-right populist parties aren’t just passive victims of political manipulation—they often share the same personal and cultural understanding of religion. In other words, religion isn’t so much “hijacked” as it is freed from institutional constraints and reinterpreted in new ways. 

This insight connects to a wider debate today about who has the right to speak for and about religion. According to Giorgi’s analysis, Salvini’s supporters reject the idea that religion is being politicized or polarized against their interests. Instead, they claim the legitimacy of being religious while voting for a party whose positions don’t always align with those of institutional religious authorities. The key argument is that the Catholic Church and official religious leaders are not the only legitimate representatives of Catholicism or religious faith.

While Giorgi’s analysis restores agency to social actors and challenges simplistic views, the concept of “instrumentalization” remains useful for understanding populist leaders’ strategies and messages. It helps explain how political actors navigate political and discursive opportunities and how discourse functions in the political arena. Moreover, it highlights the contradictions between the policies radical right parties promote and the religious values they often invoke in various ways.

Interestingly, the relationship between right-wing populist parties and Church leaders varies significantly across countries. For example, while Matteo Salvini’s supporters openly criticize “church elites” in Italy and promote a form of popular religion distinct from institutional Catholicism, in Poland influential religious figures like Tadeusz Rydzyk, a powerful priest who runs a business empire centered around the media outlets Radio Maryja and TV Trwam, maintain close ties with the populist Law and Justice (PiS) party. In fact, the party has been accused of “buying” Rydzyk’s support by using public funds to finance political agitation through his media outlets. This contrast shows how the entanglement of religion and populism can take very different forms depending on national and cultural contexts. 

In conclusion, the relationship between right-wing populist politics and religion is complex and multi-layered. Moving beyond the idea of simple “instrumentalization” allows us to better understand how religion functions as a living, evolving part of identity and culture, shaped both by leaders and supporters alike. Recognizing these dynamics—and the variations across different countries—can help us understand the nuanced role religion plays in today’s political landscape.

References

Cammaerts, B. (2022). The abnormalisation of social justice: The ‘anti-woke culture war’discourse in the UK. Discourse & Society,33(6), 730-743. 

Giorgi, A. (2022). Hijack or release? On the heuristic limits of the frame of instrumentalization of religion for discussing the entanglements of populism, religion, and gender. Identities, 29(4), 483-499. 

Marzouki, N., McDonnell, D., & Roy, O. (2016). Saving the people: How populists hijack religion. Hurst. 

Samaras, G. (2025). Weaponising Religion in Greece Post Economic Crisis: An Analysis of Far-Right Political Discourse from 2019 to 2024. Journal of Empirical Theology, 1-28. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1163/15709256-20240018

Certain topics naturally bring together not only academics but also policymakers and professionals who work on them. Preventing and countering violent extremism (P/CVE) and, by extension also terrorism, is one example, where research intersects with real-world challenges faced by law enforcement, civil society actors, and policymakers. These professionals, who often enough work in their own filter bubbles, have much to gain from networking. Yet, opportunities for cross-sectoral mutual learning and networking often remain limited due to structural as well as professional hurdles. This blog post describes the opportunities, but also the challenges, of these rare occasions of coming together. 

The most common format for meetings are thematic conferences, which are open to researchers as well as representatives from politics and practice. One example of this is the recently held 6th annual conference of Europol’s European Counter Terrorism Centre (ECTC) in April 2025, titled “Rank and Files or Memes and Likes? Terrorist Organisations, Groups, Networks.” As the title suggests, the conference centred on violent extremists’ and terrorists’ activities in the online sphere – a particularly complex and evolving challenge for policymakers and law enforcement agencies but also a topic that has caught increased scholarly attention. This is a commonality of such networking conferences: They tend to focus on those topics that are felt as the most pressing and emerging challenges in countering violent extremism and terrorism. Networking events, therefore, serve as a marketplace for informational demand and supply, ensuring that discussions remain relevant and forward-looking. In this marketplace, policymakers and practitioners seek insights on current and future threats and face challenges on dealing with them. Many so-called national action plans, strategic policy documents on preventing and countering violent extremism, emphasise the need for evidence-based decision-making. Even when policymakers do not immediately recognise the relevance of academic research, exposure to new insights can have indirect but significant effects on policy formulation. Likewise, practitioners, whether from law enforcement or civil society, can share their experiences and provide feedback on how existing P/CVE policies or research resonates with their work. Lastly, for researchers, such a conference offers the opportunity to influence policy and practice with their research findings, either by offering new insights or by providing critical perspectives.

Two examples from the ECTC conference can be highlighted since the programme of the conference was published and both projects are publicly described. One example for research influencing policy and practice is the VEOMAP research project funded by the Polish National Agency for Academic Exchange and realised at the ITSTIME research centre in Milan, which drew on open-source intelligence and used social network analysis to explore the pro-Islamic State (IS) information ecosystem and its evolution on the surface web (July 2023-March 2024) (see Lakomy 2024). By showing the structure, among others the quite centralised nature of this ecosystem, such research may resonate with similar findings from law enforcement agencies, go beyond them or inspire practice methodologically. A different example, showing the possibility of sharing experiences with P/CVE policy, albeit without going too much into the detail of this process, is the proscription of the Terrorgram collective as terrorist organisation on 26 April 2024 in the United Kingdom (see Home Office 2024). Sharing the steps and implications of this progress as well as perspectives on its effectiveness allowed policymakers and law enforcement agents from other countries to contemplate whether similar efforts could be realised in their respective national contexts.

While the picture painted here sounds promising, it is not without its problems in reality. Two interlinked problems will be discussed here. Firstly, professional differences between the actors often stand in the way of learning from one another and fruitful dialogue. Policymakers and law enforcement agents are often said to ‘think’ differently from prevention actors, as the former focus strongly on eliminating security risks and the latter have a broader understanding of prevention that also looks at the strengths of individuals and society against violent extremism. It seems counterintuitive at first, but to bridge these differences, which is necessary to enable a fruitful exchange and learning from each other, a lot of dialogue and trust is needed. One conference alone will not be able to create this. Instead, regular formats are needed that enable interpersonal relationships and a ‘meeting again’, an important basis for building trust. Only in such a setting is it conceivable that P/CVE practitioners in particular, some of whom have a special relationship with P/CVE policymakers due dependency relationships caused by public funding programmes, will be encouraged to share their experiences and criticism. Only when trust has been established do researchers get the impression that they are met with honest interest and open ears. However, structural bottlenecks in the P/CVE field, especially a lack of more stable funding, mean that exchange formats tend to appear sporadically rather than being permanent. Without naming examples here, there are some of these kinds of exchange formats that started promisingly and then fizzled out due to domestic political changes in the country that funded the event or due to the expiry of the one-off funding period. Others have been good spaces for exchange for years, where both new and the same people have been able to meet again and again, and which are now at risk of dissolution due to an administrative change, and it remains unclear to what extent previous formats will be continued. Those who want to secure the benefits of these exchange formats would do well to ensure that they are not a one-off event or that their future is uncertain, but that they take place regularly and thus allow some trust-building in the P/CVE and counterterrorism field. 

Extremism prevention work that focuses on universal or the overlap of universal and selective pedagogical prevention often relies on the development and implementation of workshop formats (Ceylan & Kiefer, 2022; Slama & Kemmesies, 2020). These workshops address diverse participants in a group setting, ranging from students in schools to multipliers like teachers in training, social workers, and police or prison officers. During implementation, various forms of resonance are generated (Koynova et al., 2022). Such feedback can serve as a tool for the iterative formative assessment of the implementation process, helping facilitators adjust and improve workshops dynamically (Golding & Adam, 2016; Husain & Khan, 2016). Unlike evaluation, this monitoring offers a descriptive overview of the current state of implementation (Junk, 2021; Koynova et al., 2022).

During my secondment at the Violence Prevention Network (VPN), I worked on a project aimed at refining feedback tools to better fit the demands of prevention practice and enhance their potential for monitoring processes. To achieve this, we collaborated closely with practitioners, incorporating their perspectives and experiences while following a procedure inspired by design thinking (Meinel et al., 2011). This iterative, practice-oriented approach enabled us to systematically analyze the needs of practitioners, identify challenges in feedback collection, and refine tools through testing and incremental adjustments. In line with previous reports, core concerns included limited time, personnel, and financial resources (Koynova et al., 2022). Thus, when designing the feedback tools, time efficiency, integrability into the course of the workshop, and quick and simple documentation were mainly considered (s. also Junk, 2021). In this light, this blog post summarizes the background and development of the project, exploring how feedback can best be used for monitoring in universal and selective prevention contexts.

Across disciplines, feedback is generally understood as information about how something is perceived (e.g., Jacobs et al., 2010; Jug et al., 2019; Voyer et al., 2016). In the context of extremism prevention, the possibilities and use of feedback can vary between individual counseling, typically employed in selective or indicated prevention, and group settings, which are more common in universal or selective prevention (Flückiger, 2021; Slama & Kemmesies, 2020). While the sender and receiver of feedback can also vary, the focus here lies on feedback provided by participants during workshops and how it can inform processes of adapting and developing the programs accordingly. Asking for participant feedback aligns well with the goals of prevention, fostering democratic practices and valuing participants’ opinions. In some settings, such as prisons or schools with strict regulations, it may be unusual for participants to be asked about their impressions (Witt, 2006). Feedback in workshops is predominantly understood as an assessment of the quality of the training and participants’ satisfaction. However, additional aspects can be considered when gathering participant feedback, such as changes in experiences, attitudes, and needs (Jacobs et al., 2010; Sufi Amin et al., 2020).

To enhance practical applications, universal/selective prevention workshops taking place in different contexts were observed in a first step. Many workshops already incorporated elements of participant resonance, such as introductory or final rounds that encourage participants to share associations, wishes, or experiences. Feedback elements can directly impact the composition of the current or a subsequent workshop and allow for follow-up reflections. This indicates that depending on when and how feedback is collected, different conclusions can be drawn. Consequently, observations led to a systematization of the different aspects, considering the course of a workshop (see Table 1). While a final feedback round captures retrospective assessments, it may overlook new needs that emerged during the workshop. In contrast, pre-post feedback distinguishes between participants’ initial expectations and their concluding insights.

Table 1. Overview of possibilities of feedback methods over the course of a workshop

In the next phase, the existing feedback instruments were refined and complemented to facilitate the monitoring of workshops. While feedback is already a common element of workshop formats, small adjustments can help implement, structure, and document feedback sequences more systematically. Feedback tools were structured by implementation timing (beginning, middle, or end of the workshop) and the type of response they generate. In this regard, they were tailored to align with the goals of the workshop formulated beforehand. Additionally, the feedback formats were designed to integrate smoothly into the overall workshop structure to minimize time constraints often expressed by practitioners while also enabling and encouraging different participants to express feedback.

As open-ended feedback questions are common practice in oral introductions and final rounds, this approach was maintained to capture both intended and unintended effects of the workshop, which are essential for monitoring efforts (Koynova et al., 2022). Open-ended questions also encourage references to specific experiences and examples, avoiding overly general statements such as “everything was great.” This approach provides insights into overall satisfaction, as well as the development of needs and experiences, including: What did participants want to remember from the workshop? Which questions were relevant at the beginning? Which new questions arose during the workshop? What topics concern the group? How did attitudes shift over time?

Workshops with trainers who tested preliminary feedback tools revealed the need for two different approaches. Although the scope is similar, younger participants require pedagogically engaging methods, whereas adult participants can be asked more directly through open-ended questionnaire formats. Given the different insights that can be gained from feedback, these different formats were incorporated into a modular framework that enables flexible combinations of feedback methods depending on available time and workshop dynamics. For each method, options for online or offline implementation were designed, allowing for anonymous responses. While online tools simplify data collection, analog formats need to be photographed and compiled at the end. Additionally, participant preferences and potential barriers to either format need to be considered. A structured documentation archive that traces feedback back to specific workshops, target groups, and settings is crucial for clustering responses and making necessary adjustments.

In conclusion, a well-structured feedback system can enable practitioners to identify recurring needs, refine content, and track the demands of specific target groups. Instead of using feedback solely for isolated session assessments, a systematic approach allows for long-term insights into learning experiences and trends across multiple workshops. This ensures that prevention programs remain dynamic and responsive to participant needs.

Bibliography:

Ceylan, R., & Kiefer, M. (2022). Chancen und Risiken der Radikalisierungsprävention. In R. Ceylan & M. Kiefer (Eds.), Der islamische Fundamentalismus im 21. Jahrhundert (pp. 289–301). Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-37486-0_14

Flückiger, C. (2021). Basale Wirkmodelle in der Psychotherapie: Wer und was macht Psychotherapie wirksam? Psychotherapeut, 66(1), 73–82. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00278-020-00478-y

Golding, C., & Adam, L. (2016). Evaluate to improve: Useful approaches to student evaluation. Assessment & Evaluation in Higher Education, 41(1), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1080/02602938.2014.976810

Husain, M., & Khan, S. (2016). Students’ feedback: An effective tool in teachers’ evaluation system. International Journal of Applied and Basic Medical Research, 6(3), 178. https://doi.org/10.4103/2229-516X.186969

Jacobs, A., Barnett, C., & Ponsford, R. (2010). Three Approaches to Monitoring: Feedback Systems, Participatory Monitoring and Evaluation and Logical Frameworks. IDS Bulletin, 41(6), 36–44. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1759-5436.2010.00180.x

Jug, R., Jiang, X. “Sara,” & Bean, S. M. (2019). Giving and Receiving Effective Feedback: A Review Article and How-To Guide. Archives of Pathology & Laboratory Medicine, 143(2), 244–250. https://doi.org/10.5858/arpa.2018-0058-RA

Junk, J. (2021). Quality management of P/CVE interventions in secondary and tertiary prevention: Overview and first steps in implementing monitoring and reporting.

Koynova, S., Mönig, A., Quent, M., & Ohlenforst, V. (2022). Monitoring, Evaluation und Lernen: Erfahrungen und Bedarfe der Fachpraxis in der Prävention von Rechtsextremismus und Islamismus. Peace Research Institute Frankfurt. https://doi.org/10.48809/PRIFREP2207

Meinel, C., Leifer, L., & Plattner, H. (Eds.). (2011). Design Thinking. Springer Berlin Heidelberg. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-642-13757-0

Slama, B. B., & Kemmesies, U. (Eds.). (2020). Handbuch EXTREMISMUSPRÄVENTION.

Sufi Amin, Prof. Dr. Samina Malik, & Prof. Dr. N. B. Jumani. (2020). Exploring Socialization Process, Peacebuilding and Value Conflict of Distance Education Students at International Islamic University Islamabad. Sjesr, 3(3), 198–203. https://doi.org/10.36902/sjesr-vol3-iss3-2020(198-203)

Voyer, S., Cuncic, C., Butler, D. L., MacNeil, K., Watling, C., & Hatala, R. (2016). Investigating conditions for meaningful feedback in the context of an evidence-based feedback programme. Medical Education, 50(9), 943–954. https://doi.org/10.1111/medu.13067

Witt, K. (2006). Feedback-Kultur als Strategie demokratischer Veränderung. Fontane-Gymnasium Rangsdorf, Brandenburg (pp. 37, [22] pages). BLK : Berlin. https://doi.org/10.25656/01:197

The Overton Window is a concept that describes the range of ideas and policies that are politically acceptable to the mainstream at any given time. Originally developed by Joseph Overton^[1], the theory suggests that public opinion is not fixed but shifts over time, influenced by social movements, political leaders, and cultural trends. While some ideas are seen as radical or unthinkable today, they may become widely accepted in the future through a gradual process of normalization.

In other words, you can imagine a spectrum of ideas on a particular topic, ranging from unthinkable (too extreme for society) to policy (accepted and implemented by governments). The Overton Window represents the portion of this spectrum that is currently deemed acceptable by the public and policymakers. When activists, media figures, or politicians introduce ideas outside of this window, they may at first seem shocking or unacceptable. However, through repetition, framing, and gradual shifts in public sentiment, these ideas can move into the Overton Window, making them more acceptable and eventually mainstream.

We can find a lot of cases where the shifts in the Overton Window ended in positive changes in society. For example, a few decades ago, same-sex marriage was widely seen as unacceptable in many countries. However, advocacy efforts, legal battles, and media representation shifted public attitudes. Today, same-sex marriage is legal in many parts of the world, showing how an idea once considered extreme can become mainstream. Similarly, marijuana was criminalized for much of the 20th century, and discussions about legalization were largely outside the Overton Window. However, changing attitudes, medical research, and economic incentives have shifted the perception. 

Terrorism, Radicalization, and the Overton Window

Now looking more precisely at terrorism and radicalization, the Overton Window is often discussed in the context of political and social movements but it also plays a role in the spread of extremist ideologies. Radicalization occurs when individuals are gradually exposed to extreme beliefs that were once outside their frame of reference but become normalized over time.

At an individual level, in the late 20th century, violent jihadist ideologies were considered fringe beliefs, even within extremist circles. However, through propaganda, online forums, and radical preachers, these ideas moved closer to the Overton Window for certain audiences. Groups like Al-Qaeda and ISIS leveraged media and social networks to normalize their extreme views, making them appear more acceptable to vulnerable individuals.

Similarly, and at a more societal level, the rise of far-right extremism follows a similar pattern. White nationalist ideas, once confined to the margins of society, have gradually entered public discourse. Online communities, political rhetoric, and media platforms have contributed to shifting the Overton Window, making once-taboo discussions about racial superiority or ethnonationalism more commonplace. This normalization can create an environment where hate crimes and acts of domestic terrorism become more likely.

In this way, it is possible to question what is currently happening in the United States (as in other countries), where attacks on gender-rights, democracy or even the economic system are becoming mainstream and accepted by large fringes of society. As an example, one could refer to Elon Musk´s Nazi sign on public television. Both the fact that he did it and that it was highly debated in various spheres of the population interrogates on changes in our vision of both historical and current events. 

This also questions the direct impact individuals can have in shifting the Overton Window one way or the other. And in fact, political strategists, activists, and even extremist groups use deliberate tactics to move it´s margins. Some of these techniques are media influence, by controlling narratives through news outlets and social media, as well as repetition, with the slow normalization of extreme ideas through frequent discussions, or even by framing radical ideas in a way that makes them seem logical or appealing.

To conclude, the Overton Window helps explain how societies change over time—whether for progression or regression. While it has led to positive changes such as civil rights advancements, it also plays a role in the normalization of dangerous ideologies. Understanding this concept is crucial in recognizing how ideas gain traction and shape the future of public discourse.

---

^[1] Joseph Overton himself never published on the concept which was popularized after his death, in particular by his colleague, Lehman, Joseph G. (2006). The Overton Window of Political Possibility. Mackinac Center for Public Policy.

Within the VORTEX Doctoral Network, we explore three key dimensions of radicalisation: (1) Pathways of Radicalisation, (2) the Social and Political Contexts of Radicalisation, and (3) Countering Radicalisation. Some time ago, those of us working on the Social and Political Contexts of Radicalisation decided to organise a panel to share our research with fellow scholars, practitioners, and the broader civil society. Last week, Heidi Campana Piva, Violette Mens, and I brought that idea to life at the 5th Helsinki Conference on Emotions, Populism, and Polarised Politics (HEPP5), hosted by the University of Helsinki.

Our panel, Radicalisation as a Challenge to the Liberal Democratic Social Contract, examined how radicalisation fractures liberal democracy across societal, epistemic, and political domains—through conspiracy-fuelled extremism, the research-policy divide, and the mainstream right’s illiberal drift.

Heidi presented her research on the anti-establishment sentiments embedded in conspiracy theories and their role in radicalisation. She argued that conspiracy theories do more than reflect societal tensions—they actively accelerate radicalisation. By demonising enemies, silencing dissent, and framing violence as a necessary wake-up call, they don’t merely spread counter-knowledge; they weaponise it. Her research offers crucial insights into how rising social pressures may erode liberal democracies.

Violette, in turn, took a more applied approach, analysing France’s epistemic community on radicalisation research. As radicalisation studies expand, a stark divide persists between academic insights and political action, often fuelling populist and polarising responses. Her work explores how France’s dual-role researchers—those who straddle academia and policymaking—shape radicalisation discourse, revealing how knowledge translation impacts both the social contract and its fractures.

Finally, I tackled the political dimension by examining the illiberal turn in European (and global) politics—a shift that could reshape liberal democracies for years to come. My central question: Is the mainstream right radicalising? While European mainstream right parties have long radicalised on immigration, is this trend expanding into other policy domains? As far-right parties broaden their battlegrounds, I conceptualise how policymaking functions in liberal versus illiberal democracies and explore whether mainstream right-wing parties are adopting illiberal policymaking strategies. I also outline key areas for future research.

Radicalisation is not just a phenomenon confined to fringe movements or extremist networks—it is reshaping the very foundations of democratic governance. Understanding these dynamics is more urgent than ever. Our panel was just one step in this broader conversation, and the work continues.

Please have a look on my presentation here:

During the Helsinki Conference on Emotions, Populism and Polarised Politics (March 05, 2025), Heidi remotely presented her work entitled “The Anti-Establishment Feelings of Conspiracy Theories in the Process of Radicalization”. Check out the video of her presentation below!

From the 5th to the 7th of March, I had the opportunity to attend HEPP5 in Helsinki. On the first day, I presented in a panel created with my two other Vortex colleagues Heidi Piva and Javid Ibad. Luckily, the conference was recorded so anyone interested can take a look at our work.

The panel examines how radicalization disrupts the liberal democratic social contract by focusing on its political, discursive, and epistemic dimensions. The papers address various aspects of radicalization: the shift of center-right parties towards illiberal policies; the use of conspiracy theories as tools of radicalization, particularly in deepening polarization and justifying extremist actions; and a critique of the gap between academic research and policy on radicalization, which reveals how knowledge production shapes discourses and responses. Together, these contributions shed light on how radicalization, populism, and polarization challenge the liberal democratic consensus in contemporary Europe.

On my side, I explain how academic research on radicalization expands and a significant disconnect persists between scholarly findings and political action, sometimes leading to populistic or polarising positions. My work highlights the formation of diverse epistemic communities, of researchers as policy makers, in the case of France, contributing to the understanding of radicalization. Through bibliographic discussions, interviewees reflect on their roles regarding the dealing of the past attacks and more generally on how they have shaped the discourse surrounding radicalization. This reflection, based on a relational approach, uncovers how knowledge and its translation influence both the social contract and its polarisation. By bridging the gap between these two entities, this research aims to foster more informed and effective policy responses to the challenges posed by radicalization, ultimately contributing to a more nuanced and effective approach to this pressing issue.

Editor note: This article was originally published the Italian Institute for International Studies. 

The Islamist organization in power today in Damascus, Hay’at Tahrir al Sham, is grappling with the management of power and the unification of a country divided and torn apart by years of civil war. After having led a lightning advance against the Assad regime, starting from the governorate of Idlib where it had been confined for the last ten years or so and heading for the capital at the beginning of December 2024, it has completely changed its narrative from jihadism to ruling Islamism. A gradual and fundamentally pragmatic change that has the objective of maintaining power. The challenge of HTS is now to include all the components in the new Syria without distinctions between men and women, language and religion. A challenge that the leadership of the organization seems to have pragmatically accepted, but which still needs to be completely accepted by the base of the movement.

Jabhat al-Nusra’s Islamist narrative: lurching between ISIS and al-Qaeda

Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), formerly known as Jabhat al-Nusra, has undergone significant ideological, organizational, and alliance transformations since its foundation in 2012. This evolution occurred gradually, even during its affiliations with the Islamic State in Iraq and Al Qaeda, where its narrative remained distinct. Initially, when it was part of the Islamic State in Iraq (2012-April 2013), its approach was markedly less extreme than ISIS’s. Al-Nusra aimed to mobilize regional fighters to challenge Bashar al-Assad’s regime rather than to govern. Nevertheless, the group attracted thousands of foreign fighters into its ranks, especially in its early stage.  The group focused on supporting fellow Muslims in Syria, without displaying ambitions to rule. During this period, it also sought to forge connections and alliances with local factions and civilians, positioning itself primarily as a movement dedicated to fighting the Syrian regime and its allies.

In April 2013, Jabhat al-Nusra severed ties with the Islamic State in Iraq and aligned itself with al-Qaeda Central, led by Ayman al-Zawahiri. Contrary to expectations that the group would adopt a less extreme stance given al-Qaeda’s relatively moderated approach compared to the Islamic State in Iraq, Jabhat al-Nusra entered a more radical phase. This shift was largely due to defections by hundreds of foreign fighters who perceived the group’s leader, Abu Mohammad al-Jawlani (later known as Ahmed Al Sharaa, the self-appointed Syrian President), as too lenient. These fighters believed that the Islamic State in Iraq was more aligned with their views, leading to their departure.

To counteract this perception and retain his fighters, al-Jawlani sought to reaffirm Jabhat al-Nusra’s commitment to the Salafi jihadi cause, demonstrating that the group remained resolute and formidable. This period of competitive radicalization is exemplified by a 2015 incident where Shadi al-Waysu, then a judge and now the Minister of Justice under HTS, was filmed supervising public executions of women, underscoring the group’s hardened stance. Despite these actions, the group was internally conflicted about its direction. While it aimed to project strength and adherence to the Salafi jihadi cause to its members and enemies, it also sought to integrate and show solidarity with the local communities it was part of. Thus, during this period, Jabhat al-Nusra grappled with conflicting narratives about its identity and goals.

By 2016, Jabhat al-Nusra realized the high cost of its association with al-Qaeda and consequently severed ties. The group’s public discourse shifted from al-Qaeda’s global agenda to a more localized focus. They began to eliminate phrases with global connotations like “Jihad against the West” or “Jihad against secular states,” replacing them with terms emphasizing their focus on Syria, albeit with an Islamist orientation. This change was symbolically marked by their adoption of the Syrian revolutionary flag, modified only by adding the shahada, the Islamic declaration of faith. The initial signs of change emerged in 2016 when al-Jawlani publicly revealed his face for the first time. Until then, his identity had been concealed, known only by his voice. In this pivotal moment, he announced the severance of ties with al-Qaeda and declared that the group would no longer align with external organizations. This marked the beginning of a shift towards pragmatic moderation. By 2017, the leadership made concerted efforts to blend the Islamist elements of the group with a stronger nationalist focus, emphasizing their commitment solely to Syria.

HTS in power, and jihadism?

When Jabhat al-Nusra broke ties with al-Qaeda and rebranded as Jabhat Fateh al-Sham in 2016, it faced internal resistance from pro-al-Qaeda members within the group. Most of these members defected and formed Hurras al-Din, which remained affiliated with al-Qaeda in Syria. Although Hurras al-Din announced its dissolution last month, it had effectively ceased to exist in 2020 after HTS cracked down on it and shut down its military bases. Driven by a desire to survive and dominate northwest Syria, al-Jolani sought to merge with other local factions to integrate his group within the local Islamist opposition. This effort resulted in the formation of Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) in 2017, a merger that included Jabhat Fateh al-Sham, Liwa al-Haqq, Army of the Sunna, Ansar al-Din, and Nur al-Din al-Zenki Movement. Some of these factions later defected from HTS, prompting the group to either dismantle or weaken them.

By 2017, HTS began promoting the concept of al-Kayan al-Sunni, or the Sunni entity, encapsulating the group’s narrative as the protector of Sunnis in Syria against the Alawite regime and its allies. This narrative remained largely unchanged until December 2024, when HTS advanced towards Damascus. During this operation, a radical shift occurred in their discourse, moving away from the notion of a Sunni entity to embrace a more inclusive slogan, “Syria for all Syrians.” This marked a significant change in their Islamist narrative as they approached the capital.

Currently the HTS’s state narrative talks about protecting all Syrians, regardless of their gender (here we mean men and women) or sect, which reflects its leadership’s high sense of pragmatic adaptability.  The leadership’s goal is to stabilize and solidify its power to ensure continued governance. Al-Sharaa is prepared to do whatever is necessary to achieve this, including engaging with minorities and forming a nominally inclusive government. This transition from a radical past to a more moderate position has not been smooth or complete. The leadership has responded to dissent within its ranks—those adhering to extreme and violent radicalism—by expelling, imprisoning, or executing them. 

The transformation within HTS was implemented through a top-down approach, with the leadership mandating a new direction and gradually enforcing it among its followers. The group has acknowledged its previous extremist behavior, positioning these actions as part of a past phase in its trajectory and implying a move away from such practices. For instance, when a 2015 video featuring the current Minister of Justice resurfaced and went viral recently, HTS confirmed its authenticity but emphasized that the actions were part of their history, without explicitly condemning them. Significantly, the minister involved was not removed from his position.

The challenge within HTS primarily lies in the relationship between its leadership and the organization’s base—its fighters and rank-and-file members—who have experienced the shift from the global jihadism of ISIS and AQ into to a governance-oriented Islamism. Until November 27, 2024, HTS publicly positioned itself as a defender of Sunni Islam, focusing on protecting the Sunni entity in Idlib. However, as they expanded their control into regions of Syria previously held by Assad, the leadership began advocating on behalf of all Syrians, shifting to a more inclusive rhetoric.This abrupt change in narrative presents a significant adjustment for the rank-and-file, who have been indoctrinated for years with the ideology of protecting Sunni identity. This transition may be challenging for fighters used to a narrower, sectarian viewpoint. Moreover, many HTS fighters, having never left the conservative environment of Idlib, are now encountering less conservative communities in Damascus. These new interactions could potentially foster deeper social changes within Syrian society, as human relationships evolve and influence perspectives and behaviours.

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.