The economic security strategy of the European Union addresses vulnerabilities in supply chains, infrastructure, technology and economic dependencies. A shortage of an essential component can interrupt production well beyond the firm buying it. Supporting an alternative source may therefore serve a public purpose, even when private investors cannot capture all the benefits.

That argument still needs a precise objective. The aim might be to keep essential supplies available during a disruption, preserve expertise that would be difficult to rebuild, or make it easier to replace a supplier. Each objective requires different evidence. Locating a factory in Europe does not, by itself, establish that its output will be available when European businesses need it.

A credit guarantee helps a lender accept a risk it might otherwise reject. If the borrower fails to repay, the guarantor covers the agreed portion of the eligible loss, subject to the contract. The borrower still owes the debt. A guarantee is different from a grant, which transfers money without the same repayment obligation, and from a public loan, through which the state provides the financing itself.

Researchers Thorsten Beck, Leora Klapper and Juan Carlos Mendoza examine these arrangements in their study of partial credit guarantee funds. Their analysis explains why the lender’s retained risk and the rules for assessing loans matter.

Protection can encourage lending, but excessive protection can weaken the incentive to check whether a borrower can repay. Their cross-country survey describes differences between schemes; it does not establish a single optimal coverage rate.

Consider a simplified example. A government guarantees 80% of unrecovered principal on a loan of 100 million euros. If 40 million euros remain unrecovered after default, the agreed division would allocate 32 million euros to the guarantor and 8 million to the lender, assuming all conditions are met. The guarantee’s maximum exposure, its expected cost and its eventual payment are therefore different amounts.

A battery plant in France

The financing of Verkor’s battery factory in Dunkirk offers a concrete European example. In June 2024, the European Institute of Innovation and Technology reported that the European Investment Bank’s financing package included 270 million euros in direct loans under the European Commission’s InvestEU mandate. This was part of a wider financing arrangement involving public and commercial banks.

The relevant guarantee operates through the financing institution. InvestEU uses an EU budget guarantee to support investments by implementing partners such as the European Investment Bank. It does not hand the guarantee amount to a company as a grant. The public commitment increases the institution’s capacity to accept investment risk.

An assessment should examine whether production becomes commercially usable and whether access to materials, equipment and customers leaves the intended vulnerability materially reduced.

In its project assessment for Verkor, the bank states that InvestEU protection allows it to consider the loan’s increased risk profile. It also says that it would not undertake the operation to the same extent without that support. This is the bank’s explanation of why the guarantee matters, rather than independent proof of the project’s eventual economic benefits.

For economic security policy, the next question is what the additional financing achieves. Battery manufacturing can contribute to Europe’s industrial capabilities, but capacity on paper is only a starting point.

An assessment should examine whether production becomes commercially usable and whether access to materials, equipment and customers leaves the intended vulnerability materially reduced. Those outcomes need to be measured before a financing decision can be treated as an achievement in economic security.

A Finnish export order

Finland provides a different example. Finnvera’s published transaction notice records a buyer credit guarantee for the sixth Icon Class cruise ship to be built at Meyer Turku. The guarantee agreement was signed on 16 July 2026. The notice reports a credit amount of approximately two billion euros, a twelve-year credit period and 95% cover.

The parties are worth distinguishing. Meyer Turku is the exporter, Royal Caribbean Cruises Ltd. is the buyer, and KfW IPEX-Bank is the guarantee holder. The guarantee protects the agreed credit exposure supporting the export transaction. It is not a grant of two billion euros to the shipyard, nor does it mean that this amount has been lost by the public sector.

It is not a grant of two billion euros to the shipyard, nor does it mean that this amount has been lost by the public sector.

Finnvera presents the project as supporting continuity in Finnish shipbuilding and the retention of strategically important expertise. That is a rationale for industrial support, rather than an assertion that cruise ships themselves are an essential supply. It shows how the language of strategic capability can extend to an industry whose immediate customers are commercial buyers abroad.

The policy question is whether the public risk accepted is justified by benefits that would otherwise be lost. Maintaining a skilled supplier network may have value beyond the individual order.

Judging that value requires evidence about feasible alternative orders and uses of skills, alongside the terms and concentration of the financial exposure. The public transaction notice identifies the arrangement; it cannot settle that wider assessment on its own.

The risks outside the contract

Research on guarantees helps separate the financing announcement from the public result. In Public Credit Guarantees and Access to Finance, economists Juan Carlos Gozzi and Sergio Schmukler distinguish additional finance from improvements in the recipient’s economic performance. A loan that a firm would have obtained anyway provides a different justification for support from one that makes a viable investment possible.

Even additional lending does not establish a net benefit for the whole economy. Supported firms may draw business away from competitors, and the guarantee may carry costs that outweigh its benefits.

The authors argue for examining financial sustainability and additionality together, including comparison with other policy instruments. That reasoning is useful for economic security, although evidence about small-business guarantee schemes cannot simply be applied to large industrial projects.

The distribution of risk also extends beyond the lender and borrower.

The distribution of risk also extends beyond the lender and borrower. A smaller supplier may buy specialised equipment before receiving firm orders. Workers may acquire skills with limited use outside a project. A municipality may provide infrastructure whose costs continue if production stops. A guarantee protecting a lender does not automatically protect any of these commitments.

An evaluation should therefore ask what participating suppliers can finance, when they are paid, and which commitments survive a delay. Where feasible, shared training or infrastructure with wider uses can reduce dependence on one project.

These choices should be assessed alongside the headline financing terms, especially when the policy’s stated purpose includes preserving an industrial network.

A bargain the public can review

In Industrial Policy for the Twenty-First Century, Harvard political economist Dani Rodrik argues for public cooperation with businesses that combines learning with accountability.

His discussion of transparent decisions, criteria for success and time limits offers a useful discipline for today’s security policies. A government must be able to learn from firms without treating their requests as sufficient evidence of public value.

For a guarantee, a public summary could explain the vulnerability being addressed and why this instrument was chosen. It should distinguish the exposure covered from the likely fiscal cost, describe fees and recoveries, and explain who retains the main risks.

Commercially sensitive details can remain protected while the public purpose and broad financial commitment are made understandable.

For Finland and other open European economies, resilience will continue to depend on trade and cooperation as well as domestic capabilities. Public guarantees may help preserve capabilities worth having.

Review dates should correspond to decisions that can still change the outcome, such as construction milestones or a proposed extension of support. Changes must respect existing legal obligations. A disappointing result does not give the state permission to abandon a valid guarantee; it does provide evidence for decisions about future support.

For Finland and other open European economies, resilience will continue to depend on trade and cooperation as well as domestic capabilities. Public guarantees may help preserve capabilities worth having.

Their strongest justification is a demonstrable public benefit, assessed against the risk accepted and the alternatives available. Citizens should be able to see what protection they are financing and what they can reasonably expect in return.

Gustavo Pessoa is an economist and professor at Fundação Getulio Vargas in São Paulo, Brazil.

Article image: Chris Liverani on Unsplash

The post Who pays for economic security? first appeared on Politiikasta.

As in many other countries, nail salons have become an increasingly visible feature of urban life in Finland’s larger cities. They are often owned and staffed by migrant women, and sometimes men, primarily from Southeast Asia, especially Vietnam, and increasingly from Eastern Europe, particularly Ukraine.

The nail salon industry has expanded rapidly in recent decades, becoming one of the fastest-growing service sectors in Europe and the United States. Valued at 15.07 billion US dollars in 2025, the global nail salon market is projected to double by 2034.

Our research on nail salons as sites of migrant (self-)employment has prompted a range of public responses. While beauty services are now a routine part of everyday life for many people, the working conditions and experiences of those who provide these services often remain invisible. In our research, we explore why nail salons have expanded and what this tells us about changes in work and employment today.

Since the funding decision was announced, the research project has attracted considerable public engagement and media attention. Much of this coverage, however, has gravitated towards sensationalist narratives, in which nail salons and the migrant women who work in them are viewed primarily through the lenses of illicit economic activities, trafficking, sexualised labour, or tax evasion. In other cases, work in nail salons was dismissed as a trivial ‘women’s issue’ rather than recognised as work worthy of serious attention.

We reflect on the tendency to sensationalise and exceptionalise migrant work and address two persistent myths that frequently accompany public discussions of nail salons through the reactions to our research.

The first casts migrant-run nail salons as sites of human trafficking and exceptional exploitation. The second portrays them as fronts for tax evasion and other illicit economic activities.

Our findings support neither of these assumptions. Instead, our ongoing research suggests that nail salon work, which is largely organised through self-employment, should be understood in relation to labour market marginalisation, care responsibilities that fall on women, and border regimes that require non-citizens to keep a regular status through work.

In Finland, immigration rules for self-employed migrants impose strict requirements, particularly regarding proof of income and business viability. In other words, nail salons are not an exception but rather an expression of the dynamics of Finland’s contemporary labour market that migrant women must navigate.

Exceptionalising exploitation of migrant workers

In Finland, recent media coverage and official reports have repeatedly exposed labour exploitation and unsafe working conditions in sectors such as food production, agriculture, cleaning, and hospitality, many of which rely heavily on migrant and racialised workers.

As doctoral researcher Dionysia Kang also writes, these cases are often met with shock, disbelief, and moral outrage. This framing presents them as isolated incidents rather than as examples of wider structural problems. Similar reactions often occur in discussions of nail salon work.

Shock can distract attention from the social, political, and economic conditions that make such exploitation possible. Presenting these cases as exceptional risks are reinforcing the idea that exploitation is unusual and exceptional.

Research shows that entire branches of the economy, from food production and delivery to other services, rely on workers whose freedom and opportunities are restricted by immigration and employment regulations, as well as discrimination based on race, gender and citizenship status.

Myth 1: Migrant workers in nail salons are victims of human trafficking

Some investigative journalism reports, such as YLE’s MOT program, “Kauniiden kynsien hinta”, explore low-income jobs through interviews with Vietnamese nail technicians. While it sheds light on pressing social issues, the program oversimplifies the situation by portraying migrant workers merely as victims of human trafficking orchestrated by networks within their own ethnic communities.

Our research does not assess actual incidents of human trafficking in nail salons. As other researchers have noted, collecting empirical data on and evaluating such claims is notoriously difficult. While we do not wish to diminish the seriousness of forced labour, we are critical of portraying foreign workers as trafficking victims. Our research participants described such representations as stigmatising, victimising and offensive.

Contrary to these assumptions, most of the workers we interviewed operated as self-employed sole traders, with only a small minority directly employed by salons. Employment contracts are relatively uncommon in the beauty sector, as salon owners often lack sufficient and stable profits to cover employers’ social security contributions.

Earnings tend to fluctuate considerably across seasons, with periods such as Christmas season generating high demand, followed by quieter months, particularly January, when clients typically reduce spending on non-essential beauty services.

Most workers in the field operate as self-employed contractors, either paying a fixed rental fee for a workstation or sharing a proportion of their earnings with salon owners, who provide the workspace, materials, and customer base.

Self-employed workers are responsible for financing their own social security while also covering a range of business expenses, including workspace rent and utilities, materials, accounting services, and even payment terminal and booking platform fees. According to our interviewees these costs can absorb up to 60 % of their earnings, leaving them with an income that is equivalent to or lower than base minimum salaries in other branches.

By becoming self-employed, migrant workers create their own jobs, while paying for their own social security.

In Vietnamese salons, the price of a gel manicure is typically around 27 euros. After deducting expenses such as value-added tax (VAT), rent, material costs, other taxes, and self-employment insurance, a worker’s earnings amount to only 7.50 to 9.50 euros per hour.

The fact that workers are mostly self-employed also create conditions for (self-)exploitation. Without the protections available to employees by the Labour Law, self-employed workers work longer hours, sometimes up to 9–11 hours to earn a living wage after tax and other payments needed to run the business.  

Simply put, by becoming self-employed, migrant workers create their own jobs, while paying for their own social security.

This runs counter to the common stereotype that ‘migrants drain welfare’. Not only our research participants pay for their own social security, but they also create their own jobs.

Registered self-employment or employment contracts are needed for the renewal of residence permits for those who do not have Finnish or EU citizenship. This brings us to the second myth accompanying nail salons – tax evasion.

Myth 2: Migrant workers in nail salons evade taxation

Another common assumption is that nail salon workers evade taxation. Yet the people we spoke to were often deeply concerned about complying with tax regulations and avoiding administrative mistakes.

Many feared that errors could result not only in financial penalties but also affect future residence permit or citizenship applications.

Our research participants often reside in Finland based on work or self-employment residence permits, which requires them to show sufficient income when applying and renewing their permits.

For example, under Finnish Immigration Service regulations, entrepreneurs in Helsinki are required to have a minimum net income of 1 210 €  per month, equivalent to approximately 15 000 € per year. The required income increases when applicants sponsor additional family members, including spouses and children.

For many migrant workers, maintaining legal status requires carefully documenting their income and demonstrating compliance with tax and regulatory requirements.

The authorities also closely assess the viability of the business. Some cases in our study indicate that applicants may face longer processing times and requests for additional documentation, or even have their applications refused.

This means that workers’ economic activity and officially documented income are in fact checked by the migration officials to be eligible for a regular status in Finland.

When considering this aspect of migration controls, tax evasion offers little benefit, carrying a high risk of penalties and negative outcomes when applying for residence in Finland.

A common assumption on tax evasion therefore fails to capture how migrant entrepreneurship is also governed through migration controls: for many migrant workers, maintaining legal status requires carefully documenting their income and demonstrating compliance with tax and regulatory requirements.

Nail salons operating as normal

Our research shows that migrant women’s precarious entrepreneurship in nail salons is both a form of resistance to exclusion from the labour market and a way of accommodating to limited employment opportunities. They also seek ways out of other feminised and racialised sectors of work, such as cleaning and elderly care, which many experience and perceive as even more exhausting and draining.

Some of our participants turned to nail salon work after years of working in elderly care and cleaning, seeking what they saw as more autonomy, dignity and better working conditions. Turning to nail business often becomes a way of navigating and resisting being steered into low-paid and low-status work with little control and autonomy.  

Despite relative flexibility compared to other forms of employment, self-employment entails the individualisation of economic risks and responsibility for social protection.

Self-employment in the beauty sector is often perceived as a viable option in the absence of other opportunities for waged work and, in many cases, after childbirth, as women seek greater flexibility and opportunities in balancing paid work with care responsibilities that continue to disproportionately fall on women. Finally, many women see it as a way out of unemployment and discriminatory labour markets that push migrant women to start their own businesses.

Despite relative flexibility compared to other forms of employment, self-employment entails the individualisation of economic risks and responsibility for social protection. In fact, many women told us that they could not afford taking sick leaves or holidays as they would lose on their income while they still had to pay all the expenses related to running their own businesses.

Despite these difficulties, our research participants talked with passion about the creative aspects of their work and the satisfaction of caring for other people. They often spoke in detail about the intricate skills the profession requires, as well as the craft involved in creating aesthetically pleasing designs that are both durable and of high quality.

Accommodation to the rules of the market

Treating working conditions in nail salons as unusual hides the fact that they are part of how labour markets often work for migrant and racialised women. It also ignores the many ways these women cope with, navigate, and challenge discrimination, childcare responsibilities, unemployment, and the limited opportunities available to them.

In this context, self-employment often becomes a way of navigating limited opportunities while simultaneously transferring the risks of entrepreneurship and responsibility for social protection onto individual workers.

Studying nail salons can then shed light not only on the workings of the Finnish labour market but also forms of accommodation to and resistance to inferior conditions through the entrepreneurial means.

Daria Krivonos is an Academy Research Fellow and a PI of “Manicuring Intimacy: Femnised Labour, (Self-)Care and Racialised Encounters in Nail Salons” (RCoF, 2025-2029). She works at the University of Helsinki.

Thu Nguyen in a doctoral researcher in “Manicuring Intimacy: Femnised Labour, (Self-)Care and Racialised Encounters in Nail Salons” (RCoF, 2025-2029), based at the University of Helsinki.

Article image: Stefan Lehner / Unsplash

Article updated 28.10.2026 at 12.40: Corrected misspelling (Dionysia Kang).

The post Why Nail Salons Are Not the Exception first appeared on Politiikasta.

Spain is a parliamentary monarchy and a democracy. Spanish monarchs have no legislative or executive powers, which are vested in the parliament and the government. As the familiar maxim puts it, “the king reigns but does not govern.”

According to the Spanish Constitution, the king’s role is to serve as a symbol of Spain’s unity and permanence. The king also arbitrates and moderates the functioning of the institutions of the Spanish state and is its highest representative in international relations. In precise terms, Spanish kings have duties rather than powers.

Nevertheless, Spanish monarchs Juan Carlos I and Felipe VI have used the argumentative and symbolic power vested in the royal institution effectively, especially in times of national crises.

Two important and well-known speeches by Juan Carlos I in 1981 and Felipe VI in 2017 highlight clear similarities in their argumentation and the contexts in which they were delivered.

The 1981 coup attempt and the speech by Juan Carlos I

Spain’s transition to democracy after Franco’s death in 1975 was a remarkable process of negotiated reform involving elements of the old regime and pro-democracy forces. Despite political violence and uncertainty, a stable democratic system was established during the transition, consolidated by the 1978 Constitution.

By the early 1980s, prime minister Adolfo Suárez’s government had become increasingly unpopular, while ETA’s terrorist attacks fuelled unrest within the military. Different groups supported removing Suárez and restricting democracy.

Spain’s transition to democracy after Franco’s death in 1975 was a remarkable process of negotiated reform involving elements of the old regime and pro-democracy forces.

On 23th of February 1981, elements from the Spanish Civil Guard, with limited support from the Spanish intelligence services and the armed forces, stormed the parliament and the national broadcasting facilities. A state of emergency was declared in Valencia and tanks were deployed in the streets. Confusion within the armed forces and security services was compounded by claims that Juan Carlos I supported the coup, which made the king’s position crucial.

In the early hours of the following morning, Juan Carlos I delivered a televised address unequivocally condemning the coup and calling on the armed forces to uphold constitutional order. His televised speech and condemnation of the coup helped secure the loyalty of the armed forces and contributed decisively to its failure.

The 2017 Catalan independence push and speech by Felipe VI

It has been said that Juan Carlos I told his son Felipe the night after the 1981 coup attempt: “Felipe, I hope this never happens to you.” Despite this wish, in 2017 Felipe, now king himself after the proclamation in 2014, had to face a serious challenge to Spanish unity and democracy.

During the 2010s, the Catalan independence movement intensified its efforts to separate Catalonia from Spain. In 2014, the Catalan regional government organised a referendum on Catalan independence, despite the vote being declared unconstitutional and prohibited by Spain’s Constitutional Court.

On 6–7th of September 2017, Catalonia’s pro-independence parties pushed through legislation for an independence referendum despite that their actions violated the constitutional order. Namely, the Spanish Constitution’s Article 2 states that Spain is indivisible, with no legal way to secede from it.

Despite this, the Catalan government held an independence referendum on 1 October 2017. The vote was marked by irregularities, including the absence of a proper electoral register and the possibility of voting more than once. Spanish police attempted to prevent the vote, in many instances, using excessive force.

Felipe VI stated his continued support for the Spanish Constitution and urged the authorities to take firm action to resolve the crisis.

Fewer than half of eligible voters participated, and around 90 % of those who voted supported independence. However, many opponents of independence boycotted the referendum, meaning that its result could not be considered representative of the Catalan electorate as a whole.

On 3rd of October 2017, King Felipe VI delivered a speech, in which he made clear that he denounced the illegal actions of the Catalan independence movement’s leaders. Felipe VI stated his continued support for the Spanish Constitution and urged the authorities to take firm action to resolve the crisis.

The speech stirred patriotic sentiment across Spain and encouraged those opposed to Catalan independence to express their views. Spanish flags could be seen everywhere in the aftermath of the speech. Supporters of independence were disappointed by the king’s unequivocal condemnation of the independence movement. Felipe VI later responded that he could not act as a mediator between those who break the law, namely the Spanish Constitution, and those who do not.  

Critical moments, similar arguments

Both speeches were delivered at critical moments when Spain’s social and political order was under threat. They were addressed both to the wider public, namely the Spanish people, and to those who could be held responsible for the exceptional and threatening situation at the time.

Juan Carlos’s speech was thus directed both at the citizens and at those attempting a coup and the restoration of a dictatorial regime, as well as those who might still have been drawn into the ongoing coup attempt. Similarly, Felipe’s speech addressed both the citizens and the Catalan regional leadership or the Catalan independence movement, who could be held responsible for the situation.

Felipe’s speech is considerably longer than Juan Carlos’s earlier speech and describes the circumstances in detail, whereas Juan Carlos leaves them largely implicit. Both speeches nevertheless emphasise the exceptional and serious nature of the situation.

The speeches share remarkably similar premises, emphasising legality, democracy and Spain’s unity.

The speeches share remarkably similar premises, emphasising legality, democracy and Spain’s unity. Both aim to safeguard the continuity of the legal order and democracy and converge particularly in their emphasis on the Spanish Crown’s commitment to democracy and constitutionalism.

Juan Carlos culminates his speech in a proposal for action, calling on the “civil and military authorities to take all necessary measures to maintain constitutional order within the framework of the prevailing legality”. This claim entails that the armed forces and other authorities and institutions must remain loyal to the constitutional order under all circumstances.

Felipe VI similarly calls for action, stating that the legitimate state authorities must ensure “constitutional order, the normal functioning of institutions, the supremacy of the rule of law and Catalonia’s self-government”.

(Unavoidable) challenges for the Spanish monarchy

There are strong grounds to argue that these are the two most significant speeches delivered by Spanish kings to date. The 1981 coup attempt and the 2017 Catalan independence crisis posed the greatest challenges to Spain’s constitutional order during the democratic era. Juan Carlos I’s condemnation of the coup plotters and Felipe VI’s rebuke of Catalan independence leaders both had important consequences.

At the time of Juan Carlos’s speech, the Crown’s commitment to democracy was not yet a given, as Francoist power structures and the coup plotters had hoped for a continuation of Franco’s authoritarian system, with Juan Carlos as a figurehead. The King’s explicit rejection of the coup attempt was therefore particularly significant.

It is the King’s duty to act as a moderator, but ultimately, he must first and foremost defend the Spanish constitutional order against all threats.

By 2017, the Crown’s democratic credentials were firmly established. Felipe’s reaffirmation of the Crown’s commitment to constitutionalism and democracy can thus also be seen as establishing a contrast between the Crown and the Catalan independence movement, whose actions he portrays as undermining democracy and the rule of law.

Juan Carlos’s defence of the constitutional order in Spain’s newly established democracy during the 1981 coup attempt received almost unanimous public support, with the exception of small sections of the far right and the military that supported the coup plotters. Public confidence in the Spanish monarchy remained high throughout the 1990s but had declined considerably by the time Juan Carlos I abdicated in 2014.

With Felipe’s defence of legality and the rule of law in 2017, the situation was more challenging, as significant parts of society supporting Catalonia’s so-called right to self-determination were understandably upset by the King’s stance.

Still, this was unavoidable, as the King could neither call for dialogue or reconciliation at the expense of the law nor apologise for the events of referendum day on behalf of the authorities who had acted under lawful orders. It is the King’s duty to act as a moderator, but ultimately, he must first and foremost defend the Spanish constitutional order against all threats.

PhD Karel Kekkonen is an independent researcher specialising in Spain. His PhD thesis, accepted in 2025, examined the Catalan independence movement. In 2026, Kekkonen published an article with Jukka Kekkonen on speeches by Juan Carlos I and Finnish President Svinhufvud in the journal Politiikka.

Article image: Chris Boland / Unsplash

The post The Spanish kings’ defence of constitutionalism and democracy first appeared on Politiikasta.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 opened up a new chapter in Finnish-Russian relations. While Finland distanced itself from its eastern neighbour, Russia revived Soviet-style measures against “unfriendly states”. Amid this, the Russian language once again became a sensitive issue in Finland, complicating the work of many Russian-speaking non-governmental organisations (NGOs) in the country that continue to use Russian in their everyday activities.

The sensitivity surrounding the Russian language largely stems from the Kremlin’s use of culture and language as a “soft power” in many European countries. Through its compatriot policy, Russia seeks to influence Russian speakers living outside the Russian Federation, encouraging them to maintain their cultural ties to the “Russian World”.

At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Russian authorities sought to instrumentalise the grievances and fears of various communities abroad through diplomatic institutions such as Russian Houses, also known as Centres For Science and Culture. As Russia’s public-facing diplomatic activities became illegitimate, these efforts were supplemented by aggressive disinformation, trolling attacks on Russian-speaking social media and other forms of hybrid influence.

Another source of negative perceptions of the Russian language has been the Ukrainian-driven Cancel Russia -campaign. In response to Russia’s president Vladimir Putin’s denial of Ukrainian nationhood, the campaign calls for opposition to Russian colonialism and chauvinism as expressed through language and culture. Although these calls have not been translated into policy by any EU member state, they have contributed to a direct association of the Russian language with that of the aggressor and consequently, to the politicisation of Russophones.

In Finland, the widespread politicisation of the Russian language forced many Russian-speaking businesses to change the language of public communications or suspend their activities entirely. Russian-speaking schools in border areas have been closed, and attendance in Russian language classes across the country has declined.

Yet many Finnish NGOs continue to use Russian as the main language of their services to local communities. From time to time they are approached with questions about their political views and why they promote the culture of the aggressor state.

So, why do the Russian-speaking organisations in Finland continue to use Russian despite these pressures? How do they understand and employ it in their everyday work? And, after all, why do we need Russian language services in Finland?

Our research project Russian World Next Door (2023–2026) offers fruitful insights into organisational perspectives that help answer these questions. The project draws on 22 semi-structured interviews with Finnish socio-cultural NGOs that operate partially or fully in Russian. These accounts were diverse, yet they shared one common feature relevant to all, what we broadly defined as the colingual nature of these organisations.

We argue that this feature helps explain how the organisations understand the relations between language and the forms of belonging, inclusion and integration
they seek to foster.

Russian-Speaking NGOs as Colingual Communities

In research literature both bilingual and colingual refer to linguistic diversity within a community. Bilingualism involves using two languages in situations where both are equally dominant and provide different opportunities for self-identification.

Speakers may choose to use one language or another to achieve particular goals or adopt a certain status. For instance, a child from a mixed-language background may be bilingual, using different languages at school and at home or speaking different languages with each parent.    

Colingualgroups are defined by their use of a common language. This language is not necessarily the mother tongue of all group members but represents a shared means of expression for individuals who use or understand it.

In Finland, one might notice that people from India and Pakistan speak Urdu with some English words to communicate with each other. Although they may not have a shared cultural background, the use of a common language brings them together as a group.

A shared language makes it quicker to explain Finnish social norms and democratic values and to discuss any differences that may initially seem strange or threatening.

In short, bilingualism is more about navigating identities related to different languages; colingualism is about the sense of belonging created through interaction in a shared linguistic environment. The colingual nature of an organisation emphasises the use of a common language as the most effective means of communication, minimising its national or historical connotations.

The Russian-speaking organisations in our study can be understood as colingual communities. They use Russian to bring together people from various countries with diverse socio-cultural, religious and political backgrounds, as well as varying levels of proficiency in Russian.

In doing so, these NGOs provide an opportunity for self-expression and connection with like-minded people. They also facilitate the integration of newcomers into the broader society. Being able to express oneself freely in a familiar linguistic environment fosters emotional security when navigating a foreign-language context.

For newcomers, receiving services in a familiar language can provide a sense of security and serve as a “bridge” towards engaging with broader Finnish society and learning Finnish. Using Russian can also help ease the “cultural shock” experienced by immigrants arriving in Finland.

A shared language makes it quicker to explain Finnish social norms and democratic values and to discuss any differences that may initially seem strange or threatening. For example, immigrants can learn through organisational networks that it is normal in Finland to speak openly about one’s sexuality and that discrimination or shame based on sexuality is unacceptable. Given the growing mistrust of the Finnish media and institutions among Russian speakers, becoming familiar with and accepting another culture in a colingual setting is crucial.

Meeting a Local Need

The organisations’ continued use of Russian is closely tied to demand. When interviewees spoke about the original idea behind their organisation, they often referred to their personal need to communicate with others in Russian in everyday life. They wanted to create a “safe space”: a judgement-free place where people could experience mutual understanding and emotional connection.

In many cases, this refers to a physical space that the organisations provide for community gatherings. People can meet, study or socialise there, pursuing both personal development and leisure activities.

These colingual environments provide a gentle entry point into social life. They allow people to achieve self-realisation and feel accepted by others with similar cultural or generational experiences.

These colingual environments provide a gentle entry point into social life. They allow people to achieve self-realisation and feel accepted by others with similar cultural or generational experiences.

This is particularly important for children who may be shy in unfamiliar settings and for older people who may find it increasingly difficult to communicate in other languages. As it was noted, teenagers and pensioners come specifically to speak Russian and spend time together. A hobby club is only a background.

A People-centred Approach

The organisations’ work reflects what we describe as a people-centred approach to culture. Firstly, they respond directly to demand. Rather than offering projects according to a state agenda or institutional priority, they develop activities and services that participants are willing to join and support.

Secondly, cultural work within NGOs can be a means of restoring human dignity. Many migrants experience reduced confidence and self-esteem due to stress, displacement or social marginalisation.

Participation in the arts can act as a “natural form of psychotherapy for everyone”. It challenges the political labels and social media stereotypes by grounding people in real relationships in the here and now. Such small but regular “vaccinations of humanity” might help people move beyond black-and-white thinking and regain a sense of stability.

Cultural work within NGOs can be a means of restoring human dignity. Many migrants experience reduced confidence and self-esteem due to stress, displacement or social marginalisation.

Volunteering and active participation can further strengthen this sense of self-worth. This especially comes to people who find it difficult to transfer their education, professional experience or cultural knowledge to the new country. As one interviewee observed, most migrants had established careers before arriving in Finland, yet now work in cleaning services or are unemployed.

By contributing to the services of colingual local NGOs, immigrants take first steps in rebuilding their cultural and symbolic capital in Finland. When their knowledge is appreciated by other participants, a former history teacher, for example, can feel valued and professionally fulfilled once again. For elderly people, this restoration of personhood is often tied to overcoming isolation, reclaiming a sense of public presence and embracing active aging in supportive colingual settings.

Russian Language as a Utilitarian Tool

In many respects, the Russian language is used as a practical tool to work with anyone, who is comfortable speaking Russian, regardless of their background. The Russian language is not viewed as an idealistic end in itself. Rather, it is a means of bridging ethnic, political or national divides within the NGOs’ online and offline community-based platforms.

This pragmatic or functional approach to language underlines another important aspect of the day-to-day work of Russian-speaking organisations. They see their role as mitigating psychological and social fragmentation among immigrants by acting as mediators. They seek to foster inter-community connections, serving as bridges to the wider Finnish society.

The colingual NGOs we examined prioritise meeting the psychological, social and cultural needs of local communities, which, in their view, eventually will enhance integration to Finnish society.

Organisations also recognise the potential risks associated with adopting explicit political positions. The general emphasis is not to discourage individuals, regardless of their political views, from seeking support. Rather, they aim to prevent individuals from becoming isolated and having only television for company.

This person-centred approach ultimately stands in stark contrast to the focus on linguistic purity and national superiority often promoted by Russian diplomatic missions abroad. Instead, the colingual NGOs we examined prioritise meeting the psychological, social and cultural needs of local communities, which, in their view, eventually will enhance integration to Finnish society.

PhD Tatiana Romashko is the Kone Foundation-funded researcher at the Department of Language and Communication Studies, University of Jyväskylä.

Rasa Žakevičiūtė is a Doctoral researcher at the Department of Social Sciences and Philosophy, University of Jyväskylä. Žakevičiūtė contributed to the Kone Foundation-funded project in 2022–25.

Article image: Markus Winkler / Unsplash

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Almost thirty years ago, the end of the Cold War was celebrated in the West as the “triumph of liberal democracy” and the“end of history”, as political scientist Francis Fukuyama stated in his well-renown essay in 1989. The end of the cold war was not the triumph of freedom and democracy but the victory of neoliberalism and its regime of instrumental rationality. It was not the achievement of a political vision based on universal human rights but the feat of an ideology that has dehumanization at its core.  

Since the time of its formulation, and presumably independently from the intentions of its author, the “end of history” thesis has performed as propaganda in at least three ways.

First, it supported the ideological construction of the United States and the West as the civilization leading the way in the making of history interpreted as a linear progression towards a better world that philosopher Georg W.F. Hegel described as the “realization of reason”. This interpretation, however, concealed the genocidal features of colonial and capitalist histories: the deliberate and systematic extermination of populations that opposed Western appropriation of land and other resources.

Secondly, by presenting the triumph of neoliberalism as a triumph of freedom and democracy, that thesis hid the role of instrumental rationality and managerialism in the processes of dehumanization and victimization.

Finally, as a piece of propaganda that was used to present neoliberalism as the only possible option to combine freedom and democracy, that thesis contributed to suppress the possibility for a stable and genuinely free and democratic world order could emerge from the unique historical circumstances of the end of the Cold War.     

Today, Western democracies seem unable or unwilling to stop Gaza genocide. The United States, the once celebrated leader of the “free world”, is supporting Israel genocide in Gaza and sanctioning the United Nations, the International Criminal Court and the governments opposing it. How have we come to this?                                                                                                                                                     

The naturalization of genocide

The Holocaust and the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were arguably the most significant events of the Second World War because they were most influential in the formation of the postwar political order.

That order was born out of fear. It sought to tackle the fear that more and worst genocides could occur in the future by setting up principles, rules and institutions designed to protect fundamental human rights. That order was a great civilizational advance because for the first time in human history it offered governments of the world some common ethical grounds and an institutional setting to solve their disputes. 

The conceptual cornerstone of that system was the idea of humanity or, more precisely, the institutionalization of the “invention of humanity”. The UN did not “invent” humanity as this notion dates back in modern form at least to the Enlightenment.

What was new, however, was its naturalization through the principles, rules and institutions created to oppose dehumanization :the “stage” that prepares the grounds for a genocide to occur. Ultimately the UN systems was designed to humanize humanity in response to the Holocaust and the nuclear genocide because these events could occur as the result of ideas that were the offspring of the dialectic aspects of the Enlightenment, and the same logic of instrumental rationality which enabled the commodification of labour necessary for capitalism to exist.

If the enlightenment liberated humanity from the oppression of supranatural superstitions and fears, it did not emancipate the West from the influence of its colonial heritage and its “colonial matrix of power”: the combination of material and immaterial tools supporting Western colonialism. Eventually, the same logic laid the conceptual grounds for the re-subordination of the newly liberated humanity to the commodification of human labour and the myths of free market capitalism.

In this perspective, the welfare state was more than just a political trick to assure domestic consensus for post-war political regimes. It was a strategy to tackle the existential threat to the dehumanization of humanity represented by unmitigated forms of capitalism.

The breakdown of the “postwar consensus”, the oil crisis of the 1970s and the rise of neoliberalism prepared the grounds for radical reforms that eventually destroyed the welfare state, challenged the project of “humanizing humanity”, promoted instead the idea of humans as resource and transformed democratic citizenship in “sacrificial citizenship”: the form of citizenship in which individual are not asked to exercise political sovereignty for the polity but instead to sacrifice in the interest of the State and corporations. 

The evolution of neoliberalism through globalization and digitalization demanded and enforced progressive dehumanization as the fundamental condition for the reproduction of capital.

That order was born out of fear. It sought to tackle the fear that more and worst genocides could occur in the future by setting up principles, rules and institutions designed to protect fundamental human rights.

In this perspective, the relevant feature of “surveillance capitalism” – the stage of capitalism in which the capture and commodification of personal data supports the accumulation of corporate capital and control – is not the transformation of surveillance from a cost into a profitable activity. The privatization of healthcare and prisons had already done that. Rather, the key feature is the transformation of people’s life experience into data that corporations can appropriate and use to control people’s future.

Principles alone cannot, and did not, stop genocide when they occurred e.g in Cambodia, Rwanda and Sudan. But agreement on principles makes possible institutional arrangements like the UN, enabling the collective action that can hold the perpetrators of a genocide accountable and is the best guarantee against the possibility of more genocides to occur.

Once the instrumental logic that construe humans are “resources” and the human experience of life as data to be expropriated for profit, control and, if necessary, targeting, become the pillar of the new world order, we should not wonder why effective opposition to genocide in Gaza seems impossible.

In a world like this, the notion of human rights as universals loses its significance and the occurrence of a genocide, as well as the opposition to it, depends on particulars: the relative strength of the perpetrator and the political convenience of letting it happen, compared to the costs of opposing it.

Perpetrators and bystanders are united by the instrumental rationality of neoliberalism. As this happens, the dehumanization of humanity becomes a matter of fact and genocide an inherent possibility of the workings of the new global order.

The banality of evil

The UN report about the “economy of genocide” is to date the most obvious evidence that global corporate capitalism is actively involved and making a profit in the genocide perpetrated by Israeli authorities in Gaza.

Even more significant for the argument about the role of neoliberalism in the naturalization of genocide, however, is the fact that such a production of evidence has had little or no political effects and virtually no consequences for the corporations involved and their managers. Much of anger was instead directed to the special rapporteur, Francesca Albanese who was accused of incompetence and anti-Semitism.

This shows that, in practice if not in principle, genocides are nowadays construed not in the terms of a crime against humanity but as a political practice involving the same economic and digital infrastructures essential for our societies.

In this world order, the UN has become useless or harmful: useless because the fear of genocide is not anymore something to avoid but a tool of deterrence, and harmful because the authority the UN still enjoys among the governments and the people of the world is an obstacle to more effective control over governments, people and resources.    

The genocide deniers presumably deny not the facts the word “genocide” refers to but its legal and moral implications. A crime is a crime only within an established legal framework. The crime of genocide became a crime only when the UN was given the authority to establish the rules that created the crime.

For the genocide deniers, what is done in Gaza is not a crime because the UN institutional order and its rules have lost their authority and the dehumanization of humanity is now increasingly accepted by those who have the power and the interest to practice genocide.

Today, it seems that end of history and the “triumph” of the West are bringing about the erosion of the UN and the consensus on its foundational principles.

This is an unpleasant fact: those responsible for the Holocaust were punished not because they were wrong but because they were weak and lost the war. And if the state of Israel was born as a result of the Holocaust, this important difference is presumably part of its genetic cultural heritage. 

Is it one of those cruel historical ironies that the same “banality of evil” German philosopher Hanna Arendt discovered during the trial of SS officer Adolf Eichmann in Jerusalem – that Eichman was not evil or psychopath but “he merely … never realized what he was doing” – applies today to the political and corporate leaders participating to the genocide in Gaza?

The problem with the theory and practice of genocide is that, once the consensus about the “humanization of humanity” is broken, the possibility to start or to stop a genocide depends on power.

In the history of humanity, genocide is the rule not the exception. The real turning point came in the aftermath of WW2, with the establishment of the UN and the possibility of breaking with the past through the universal recognition of humanity as a single entity and the international commitment to the respect of fundamental rights.

Today, it seems that end of history and the “triumph” of the West are bringing about the erosion of the UN and the consensus on its foundational principles, in a process led by the US and its close ally, Israel. One of the effects of this erosion is the widespread inaction to the ongoing genocide in Gaza.

The naturalization of inaction towards genocide will naturalize genocide as politics with other means and will make it easier for more genocides to come – while the memory of the Holocaust will be used “to conceal other genocides”.

The re-naturalization of genocide means that the practice of systematic annihilation of an entire populace is not anymore something that should never happen again to anyone but increasingly a form of “politics by other means”, made possible by technology and justified by political convenience.

History on the move again: Opposing the naturalization of genocide

In his 1989 essay, Fukuyama wrote he was concerned that the end of history would have been “a very sad time” for the lack of  “worldwide ideological struggles” worth living and dying for.

Today perhaps he should rejoice at the realization that the ideological struggle is far from over. The good piece of news here is that the global order of neoliberalism is neither “the best” nor the final one. The ugly truth, however, is that the possibility of change for the better is far from granted. And the bad news here is that the ongoing genocide will continue until the leadership in Israel and the US believe it is possible and useful to do so.

If the genocide cannot be stopped, we could at least try to avoid its naturalization. To do this, we should avoid to tackle the feeling of impotence with the escapism of “victim blaming”: blaming the victim of aggression when we cannot stop the aggressor.

The struggle for the universal freedom of democracy is more actual than ever: history is on the move again.

We should instead learn from the Holocaust and preserve the memory, practice documentation, remember the victims, their names, their stories, and give memory an epistemic dimension through the continuous creation of knowledge about genocide. To remember is fundamental to avoid impunity and to lay the grounds for accountability when the circumstances will allow for that.

Finally, we should keep in mind that opposing the naturalization of genocide is not anti-Semitic but a moral duty for those who care about humanity, including the many Israeli and Jews that have condemned it and expressed concern about its implications.

To accuse these people of antisemitism contributes to the naturalization of genocide and to shield its perpetrators from accountability. It reveals the inclination to destroy the legal foundations of international order, to abuse the significance of the Holocaust and its terrible lesson, ultimately to compromise the future of humanity, and to secure impunity for its perpetrators.         

The lesson to learn today is not that freedom and democracy are impossible but rather that they are incompatible with the instrumental and dehumanizing logic of neoliberalism. The struggle for the universal freedom of democracy is more actual than ever: history is on the move again and the fight has just begun.

Matteo Stocchetti is a  docent in political communication at Helsinki University and Åbo Akademie.

Article image: Tomer Texler / Unsplash

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Georgia, a small South Caucasian country, has long been considered a leader in the European Union’s Eastern Partnership program. Over the past two decades, relations with Brussels have significantly deepened.

Georgia has secured a free trade agreement and visa-free travel for citizens holding biometric passports, while benefiting from sustained EU financial, political and diplomatic support. This includes consistent backing for Georgia’s territorial integrity, as 20 percent of its territory remains occupied by the Russian Federation. 

Georgia’s current government, led by the Georgian Dream party, maintained largely stable relations with the EU for nearly a decade after coming to power in 2012. It positioned itself as pro-European in both domestic and foreign policy, while simultaneously pursuing what it described as a policy of “not irritating Russia,” which emphasised largely non-confrontational positions towards Moscow.

However, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has significantly reshaped political rhetoric in Georgia, contributing to the rise of strongly anti-European messaging. Much of this messaging has been spread by major information outlets affiliated with the ruling party and known for their pro-government stance.

The narratives circulating among the public increasingly mirror patterns common in Russian information campaigns, at times echoing similar discursive frames and messaging strategies. This article outlines the core narrative and messaging strategies that have gained special strength in Georgia after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

The anti-European turn, accompanied by intensified disinformation and propaganda efforts linked to shifting geopolitical dynamics, as well as continuing undemocratic decisions at the legislative and executive levels, has strained Georgia-EU relations.

Georgia is now a subject of growing scepticism, contributing to the suspension of several EU-funded initiatives and raising concerns about potential future restrictive measures, which will suspend the benefits, such as a visa-free regime, firstly for the decisionmakers, followed by ordinary citizens.

Post-2022 regional changes – Russia’s decreasing hard power influence

Russia’s influence in the South Caucasus has been strong for decades since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The occupation of Georgian territories – Abkhazia and South Ossetia, the conflict in Karabakh, Armenia’s dependence on Russia due to its regional isolation, Russia’s influence on Azerbaijan, and later the introduction of a peacekeeping mission in Karabakh have enabled Moscow to maintain hard power in the region. Russia is also effectively using soft power measures, particularly by promoting ideological narratives targeting growing EU and NATO influences.

Russia’s influence in the South Caucasus has been strong for decades since the dissolution of the Soviet Union.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine had significant implications for the South Caucasus. Azerbaijan was able to regain control over Karabakh in 2023. The Karabakh region has been a source of conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan since the early 1990s.

After the outbreak of second Karabakh war in 2020, Russia deployed a peacekeeping mission in the region, which proved unable to effectively monitor the ceasefire between Armenia and Azerbaijan and in 2024 withdrew from the region. Considering the shifting regional realities, Armenia has started deepening its connections with the EU, attempting to balance Russian influence.

Altogether, these developments have left Russia with decreasing hard power influence in the region. However, this has opened space for informational influence strategies. Ironically, Georgia, the country that has historically been the most pro-European in the South Caucasus, appeared particularly vulnerable during this period to such campaigns, especially those targeting pro-Western and particularly pro-EU views.

Georgia’s vulnerability and echoes of Russian rhetoric

As mentioned, for almost a decade the Georgian Dream ruling party’s foreign policy has been based on balancing between the West and Russia. For years, this approach was communicated to the public as a pragmatic strategy, given Georgia’s geographic position and the continued military threat from Russia.

However, in parallel, over the last decade Georgia has also opened space for groups, media outlets and political actors using more radical rhetoric, sometimes openly pro-Russian.

Examples of these include far-right political actors such as the Alliance of Patriots, Alt-Info, and television channels that have been promoting anti-EU narratives. In their discourse, these actors have often attempted to shift public attention away from Russian threats toward vaguer concerns, such as the need to protect Georgian identity from foreign, primarily Western negative influences, including what they describe as “LGBTQI propaganda.” These actors have at times been regarded as informal “satellites” of the government, voicing messages that the authorities themselves were still avoiding publicly.

However, since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the government itself has moved to the forefront of Euroscepticism, and at times openly propagandistic rhetoric. Recent trends indicate a shift toward clearly anti-Western, and occasionally hostile, messaging. The narratives have also increasingly portrayed Ukraine, historically a key partner of Georgia, as a negative actor.

Many of the messages constantly circulating among the Georgian public and supported by the government, echo Russian rhetorical patterns, particularly in their portrayal of the EU as a threat.

In some cases, Ukrainian leadership has been framed responsible for failing to prevent Russian aggression, while similar arguments have been extended domestically by accusing Georgia’s previous government of provoking Russian aggression in 2008. The launch and completion of a parliamentary investigation in relation to the 2008 war has further been used to reinforce these narratives and provide them with greater political legitimacy.

Many of the messages constantly circulating among the Georgian public and supported by the government, echo Russian rhetorical patterns, particularly in their portrayal of the EU as a threat and in their aim and ability to generate suspicion and confusion among the public. This has long fueled concerns about Georgian Dream’s potential ties to Russia.

At the same time, some observers argue that the party and its founder, oligarch Bidzina Ivanishvili is primarily driven by own economic and security interests, while strategically using well-established informational mechanisms to maintain political power.

Core narratives  

In the Georgian case, social media does play a significant role in spreading anti-Western narratives, but reports show that traditional actors still play a significant role, like political figures and parties. Traditional media remains key too, with the most influential TV channels widely seen as supporting the government and actively deploying the same messaging.

This is especially relevant for reaching populations living outside the capital, in regions where these TV channels are sometimes the only source of information. It is interesting to note that, UK has already sanctioned Imedi and Postv channels, widely believed to be pro-governmental, by the end of February, for spreading misleading information about Russia’s war in Ukraine.

Many of these narratives repeat ideas and messaging that originate in Russian information campaigns and comparisons are provided to illustrate these parallels.

The data from several reports by different international and local organizations in Georgia, as well as limited number of academic publications on this topic suggest the existence of key narratives since 2022, that have been actively promoted among the Georgian public, both by the government and by satellite actors operating within the country.

Some key examples are outlined below. Many of these narratives repeat ideas and messaging that originate in Russian information campaigns and comparisons are provided to illustrate these parallels.

Georgian Sovereign Democracy

“Sovereign democracy” is a well-known Russian concept used to describe the governing model promoted by the Russian state. In simple terms, it can be understood as democracy practiced on a country’s own terms.

At the same time, Russian officials have consistently argued that their system is equal to, or even superior to Western democratic models. A key characteristic in this concept is that criticism of the system is often portrayed as suspicious or hostile, with critics frequently labeled as foreign agents, unfriendly actors or political enemies.

In recent years, similar messaging has played a key role in government rhetoric and among supporters of the Georgian authorities, particularly regarding EU political influence. The core argument suggests that Georgia no longer needs advice from its European partners on how to build democracy, while simultaneously promoting the view that Georgian democracy and the rule of law are in better condition than in parts of Europe.

Legislation supporting these restrictive practices has often been described by the ruling party as analogous to laws in the United States or Europe.

This messaging became especially dominant since November 2024, when the Georgian government decided to pause EU accession talks. The decision was followed by mass protests that continue daily across Georgia, as well as large-scale government suppression targeting civil society, opposition groups and independent media.

Legislation supporting these restrictive practices has often been described by the ruling party as analogous to laws in the United States or Europe. However, the European Commission has issued critical reports on these developments, portraying them as a serious threat to Georgia’s democratic future.

The narrative that “Georgia does not need advice on democracy,” often reinforced through selectively presented or manipulated examples of police misconduct, corruption or governance failures within the EU, closely resembles the Russian concept of “sovereign democracy,” which has long been used to shape public perceptions and justify political violence.

Stability vs. Ukrainisation

The narrative portraying Georgia as a “land of peace and stability under the Georgian Dream” government has been one of the most prominent since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. It has been used to support the argument that Georgian Dream has saved the country from opening a so-called “second front” against Russia, while claiming that the collective West has been pressuring Georgia to do so, often through the vague notion of a “global war party.”

This messaging became particularly intense ahead of the 2024 parliamentary elections, aiming to instrumentalise societal fears of war in a country that has experienced several internal and external conflicts over the past 35 years.

The narrative has been closely linked to developments in Ukraine, promoting the perception that the West seeks Georgia’s “Ukrainisation” by opening a second front, while portraying the ruling party as the only political force capable of preventing such a scenario.

The broader practice of shaping public opinion against the collective West has often been identified as a well-established Russian strategy, in which conspiracy theories play a central role.

A particularly visible illustration of this messaging appeared in Tbilisi and other parts of Georgia ahead of the 2024 elections, where campaign banners displayed images of destroyed Ukrainian cities alongside images of peaceful Georgian landscapes. The campaign provoked strong critical reactions in Ukraine as well.

The broader practice of shaping public opinion against the collective West has often been identified as a well-established Russian strategy, in which conspiracy theories play a central role. The conspiracy narrative surrounding a so-called “global war party,” portraying Western governments and European institutions as opponents for the peace in Ukraine, has also been widely used in official Russian rhetoric.

Similar messaging patterns have appeared in Georgian political discourse, leading many researchers and practitioners to argue that Georgia is currently experiencing extensive, multi-level Russian influence operations, including efforts to shape public perceptions through disinformation and propaganda.

EU as the enemy of Georgian traditions

One of the most established anti-European narratives in Georgia has targeted Euro-integration by claiming that EU membership would destroy Georgia’s cultural identity and traditions.

This narrative has been particularly promoted by groups such as Alt-Info and similar actors that position themselves as defenders of Georgian traditions. Their rhetoric is often characterized by extreme right-wing views combined with religious arguments suggesting that opposing certain Western values is a moral and cultural obligation.

The narrative has specifically focused on sexual minority rights, claiming that EU membership would force Georgia to legalize same-sex marriage and allow Pride marches in the country.

Although other actors, including some religious figures have also contributed to spreading these messages, one of the most influential promoters of this discourse has recently been the government itself, which has emphasized “family sanctity” as a core national value while introducing restrictive legislation targeting sexual minorities.

Although public support for EU membership in Georgia remains consistently high, the persistence of Russian informational influence continues to present a significant challenge.

This approach is not unique to Georgia, as restrictive policies and rhetoric targeting sexual minorities have long been present in Russia. What is particularly notable, however, is that several studies indicate that Russia has systematically promoted such narratives through various channels, while supporting groups that adapt and localize these messages.

The broader objective of this strategy is to create distorted perceptions of Europe, undermine trust in European institutions and foster skepticism toward Euro-integration. Although public support for EU membership in Georgia remains consistently high, the persistence of Russian informational influence continues to present a significant challenge.

Impact on perceptions, Euroscepticism and EU-Georgia relations

The most critical question is: what impact do these information campaigns have on Georgian people’s perceptions of the collective West, and on the country’s aim to join the EU? As noted above, support for European integration remains strong among the Georgian public, with almost three-quarters of the population still supportive.

However, a closer look at surveys over the years reveals a noticeable decrease in positive perceptions and trust toward the EU in the last two years alone. EUNeighbours East has been producing annual survey results on the EU’s image and trust in Georgia, and comparing the reports from 2023 and 2025 clearly shows a drop of more than 10% in both categories.

The most critical question is: what impact do these information campaigns have on Georgian people’s perceptions of the collective West, and on the country’s aim to join the EU?

It is reasonable to consider that information campaigns influence public opinion and trust. Constant campaigns, originating from influential sources can succeed in creating confusion and prompting people to question previously held beliefs, eroding trust in the EU and in the long term, potentially decreasing support for integration.

The undemocratic tendencies and continued anti-EU rhetoric have left their mark on Georgian-EU relations. The European Union has repeatedly warned Georgian authorities that continuing this path will ultimately undo all the positive developments achieved over the years under different administrations.

The EU has also expressed concerns about anti-Union narratives in recent years. Georgia’s candidate status is currently largely symbolic, and the accession process is effectively frozen. The EU warns that it will remain so until the ruling party reverses course.

Concerning shifts and geopolitical influence through informational and ideological channels

The growing similarities between Georgian government messaging and narratives long associated with Russian informational strategies highlight a concerning shift in Georgia’s political and communicative landscape. Russian-style anti-Western rhetoric by ruling political figures and influential media, conspiracy theory-driven messaging, and hostile identity-based narratives have affected public trust in Western institutions and complicated Georgia’s relationship with the European Union.

These developments demonstrate that geopolitical influence in the South Caucasus is no longer exercised primarily through military or economic leverage, but increasingly through informational and ideological channels.

Georgia’s case also illustrates how external narratives can be localised and adapted to domestic political agendas, particularly during periods of geopolitical instability and societal vulnerability.

Georgia’s case also illustrates how external narratives can be localised and adapted to domestic political agendas, particularly during periods of geopolitical instability and societal vulnerability. The persistence of strong public support for EU membership suggests that Georgia’s European orientation remains continuous and deeply rooted. However, the continued use of anti-European discourse increases the risks of gradually reshaping public perceptions.

Understanding these dynamics is essential not only for Georgia’s democratic future but also for broader European engagement in the region. Addressing information influence operations within the context of Russia’s shifted regional strategies will remain critically important regarding Georgia and its European trajectory.

Nino Chanadiri is a political science researcher and analyst specialising in Eastern Europe and the Baltic Sea region. For years, she has contributed analytical and research-driven content to reputable organisations and journals in Georgia, Estonia and Poland, focusing on socio-political developments in South Caucasus, wider Eastern Europe and Baltic Sea region.

Article image: Etienne Dayer / Unsplash

The post Sovereignty, Stability and Suspicion: Russian Messaging in Georgia’s EU Debate first appeared on Politiikasta.

The widespread disregard for human rights and international law that seems to characterise contemporary politics may lead one to believe that politics is about power and not about ethics.  This belief, however, is wrong and dangerous.

It is wrong because it reflects a wrong understanding of what politics, power and ethics are all about. It is dangerous because, this wrong understanding leads to the justification of violence and oppression and pave the ways to autocracy. Ultimately, this belief tells more of the personalities of those who hold it than of what politics is all about. 

The ethics of power

The are at least two kinds of people that think politics is about power rather than ethics. First, there are those who think that ethics, and moral values play no role in politics, second there are those who think the role these play is only instrumental: an accessoire that makes the exercise of power less costly and more effective.

The best example of the former type is Stephen Miller, Senior advisor of US President, Donald Trump, who candidly enough declared to journalist Jack Tapper on CNN: “We live in a world (…) that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power. These are the iron laws of the world that have existed since the beginning of time…”.  

“Other less candid (but smarter?) leaders refrain from voicing such radical opinions, but hold on to the belief, that role of ethics is only instrumental to the effective exercise of power. In politics and elsewhere, these leaders pay lip services to values such as sustainability, compassion, equality etc. as a practice of image management or “branding” for themselves and the institutions they represent. As German scholar Tomas Klikauer argued in his critique of management ethics, “Ethics is simply a somewhat distant add-on to management like milk in a coffee, if needed at all.”

To argue their case, the apologists of the instrumental role of ethics typically mobilise the “classics”, especially the all-time favourite among them: The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli. Despite his fame, this is an author that is read not as often and perhaps not as attentively, as it is quoted. In other words, there are reasons to believe that those who think of Machiavelli as a champion of the political ruthlessness, either haven’t read him or, if they did, they completely missed the point.

Machiavelli’s prescriptions do not deny the political relevance of virtue but quite the opposite. As Erica Benner argued in her book Machiavelli’s Prince: A New Reading: “At the Prince’s core is a biting critique of both ruthless realpolitik and amoral pragmatism, not a revolutionary new defence of these positions. Far from eroding ancient contrasts between good and evil, just and unjust, or tyranny and freedom, Machiavelli’s book shows readers the dire consequences that ensue when our language and practices fail clearly to distinguish them.”

Those who seek to justify ruthless behaviour in politics and elsewhere on grounds that only strength, deception and ultimately self-aggrandizement matter, know very little about power and how it works.

The instrumental (mis)use of ethics and the misinterpretation of as classic texts like Machiavelli’s Prince does not diminish the importance of ethics for the exercise of power, nor the important of these texts. It only tells of the quality of the leaders (mis)using them. These uses stand like a stain of filth on the fine clothes wore to compensate with appearances what is lacking in substance.

Those who seek to justify ruthless behaviour in politics and elsewhere on grounds that only strength, deception and ultimately self-aggrandizement matter, know very little about power and how it works. These people are not “realist”. They are just incompetent.

The instrumental use of ethics has entropic effects on the legitimacy of power and therefore on the effective exercise of power itself, because when the legitimacy of power declines, the roles of violence and fear increase. As history shows, there is always a point in which this equation delivers a negative result and people will choose to “fight” instead of “flight”.

Despite its falsity, this belief is appealing to leaders who lead without having neither the competences nor the integrity to do so. Still,  those who believe ethics are only instrumental to the exercise of power, to the manipulation of consent, and ultimately to oppression, should be aware of the power of ethics and of people’s inclination to eventually rebel against abuses.

The power of ethics

The power of ethics – the influence of moral principles and considerations on society, its institutions, on people’s lives and ultimately on the competition for political power – should not be underestimated. To acknowledge this power is important, not primarily for moral reasons, but for pragmatic ones – or as Machiavelli argued, for the effective exercise of authority.

In democratic regimes, this acknowledgement is particularly important because truly democratic leaders should be inspired by an ethic of democratic accountability (and e.g. pursue the long term welfare of the community they lead), rather than by an instrumental ethic: the manipulative use of moral principle and standards for the pursue of particular interests and the preservation of their influence.

To argue my point here I will rely on three metaphors: the glue, the compass and a promise (or a threat).

First the power of ethics can be thought of as a glue that keeps people together through consensus rather than coercion and bring about compliance through active participation instead of fear. Truly ethical behaviour by the leaders increases trust which becomes an important resource especially when the particular interests of some have to be sacrificed for the common good. 

Second, the power of ethics is the power of a compass that gives direction: it does not tell one where to go but it helps to get there rather than get lost. As Antti Kylliäinen recently argued in his book on ethics, Hyvänteossa, “values tell us what is good and worth thriving for” (“Arvot kertovat, mikä on hyvää ja tavoittelemisen arvoista”).

The power of ethics can be thought of as a glue that keeps people together through consensus rather than coercion and bring about compliance through active participation instead of fear.

If leaders neglect the influence of ethics and moral values, the individuals and communities that depends on them will get lost. When this happens, in politics and elsewhere, fragmentation, polarization and even violence increase because sacrifices are extolled for no other purpose than to preserve a leadership that has lost its direction and has no other purpose that preserving itself.

Third, the power of ethics can be described in relations to social functions similar to those performed by forms of speech like a promise (or a threat). It is perhaps an evolutionary fact that the constitution of society was originally inspired by the efforts of individual to increase their chances of survival by uniting or, as we would say today, hanging together so not to hang separately.

Whatever the reason, fundamental values and virtues participate to the human experience of life and its appeal depends on a promise about the possibility of a societal harmony: a reward for the effort of personal improvement with transformative effects on the relationship between the individual and society.

This promise, in other words, transforms the meaning of the social bond from a risk of subjugation and oppression to an opportunity for emancipation. The idea that “there is no such a thing as society” supports ideologies and policies that seek to isolate people: to break up collectives and let the individual stand alone and vulnerable against their rulers.

To “deny” society is to deny the “social contract” and pave the way to a social order based on fear. If the power of “ethics as a promise” is suppressed, the same will return as a threat – and once the Genie of fear is unleashed, however, the leaders that freed it are not immune from it.

These metaphors may perhaps also help to understand why the power of democratic ethics – a distinctive, post-feudal form that inspired and became politically relevant after the American and French revolutions – is what makes democratic regimes unique and uniquely resilient. In democracies, ethical leadership combines the power of ethics as a “glue”, as a “compass” and as “promise” transforming the people into the people that rule themselves or Demos: an indomitable community of individuals with the competences and the integrity necessary for self-rule.

Fundamental values and virtues participate to the human experience of life and its appeal depends on a promise about the possibility of a societal harmony.

The power of democratic ethics, in other word, is not an attribute of the leaders or the population. Rather it is an attribute of democratic politics: in essence, a relationship uniting the people and their leaders which establishes the Demos as a collective capable of deciding about own future and on the ways to bring that about.

In other words this is the power that establishes the actual rule of the people by the people as a practical possibility rather than a mere ideal. In this perspective, the resilience of democracies does not depend primarily on the qualities of their leaders but on the extent the importance of democratic ethics as the glue, the compass and the promise is acknowledged by both the people and their leaders.

When this acknowledgment collapses, because leaders deny or neglect the importance of democratic ethics and/or because the ethics of individualism and opportunism become influential, a democracy loses cohesion, direction and hope.  The leaders that effectively manage to interpret their role in relation to the responsibilities associated to democratic ethics, rather than the privileges of authority, are the “martyrs” of Demos: the “witnesses” of its existence and its political power. The rest are merely demagogues that corrupt the ideal of democracy.

Thinking the power of ethics in the age of polycrisis  

The subordination of ethics to power is nothing new. What is new is perhaps the combination of two tendencies. The first is the end of a useful fiction. In the years of the Cold War and its aftermath, the political support for democratic ethics in international politics was perhaps a fiction or facade – but a useful one, because it supported fundamental democratic principles, such as the rule of law and human rights, and the authority of institutions such as the United Nations  and the International Court of Justice that actually worked for a better world.

As the power of political actors that in the past supported this “fiction”  is currently used to undermine it, the result is not a better, more “honest” world but just the undermining of the values, the hopes and ultimately the “promise” these principles and institutions testified.

The other tendency, closely connected to the previous one, is the growing popularity of “transactional leadership” – a form of leadership in which authority is used to achieve more or less particular interests and short-term results – among political and corporate leaders, in domestic and international politics. The glorification of autocracy as “strong leadership” in both the state and the firm, by the likes of Stephen Miller, naturalizes the influence of toxic personalities in politics and in the working place. It inspires and justifies “organizational dehumanization”, the representation of people as “sacrificial citizens”, “extrajudicial killing” and abuses of the kind recently inflicted by ICE on the people in Minneapolis.

In the years of the Cold War and its aftermath, the political support for democratic ethics in international politics was perhaps a fiction or facade – but a useful one, because it supported fundamental democratic principles.

Independently from their declared ideological standpoints, too many political and corporate leaders around the world are uniting today in what philosopher Jacques Rancière called “the hatred for democracy”: a fundamental resentment for the very idea of the rule of the people by the people and for the ethics that supports it as a compass and as a promise.

For people of my generation and older – the Cold War & post WW2 generation respectively – the idea of ethics subordinated to power hurts because, at some point, in a not-so-distant past, we actually experienced the power of ethics. The world-wide consensus that created the UN and its Charter, the international law and human rights, was possible because our predecessors, having witnessed the horrors of the concentration camps and the nuclear effacement of innocent civilians, cared about the future of the generations to come, our present.

Those institutions were established as conceptual landmarks that, like monuments, are erected to testify of a past that must be remembered and its lessons heeded in order to avoid repeating tragic mistakes. That consensus expressed a union of ideals, directions and a promise that the leaders of today refuse to acknowledge.

I don’t think Machiavelli would consider this choice a wise one, nor the condition of a struggle for power deprived of meaning a desirable condition. And perhaps, he would join the  character “V” of the movie V for Vendetta and remind them that: “People should not be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people”.

PhD Matteo Stocchetti is docent in political communication at Helsinki University and Åbo Akademi. matteo.stocchetti[at]proton.me

Article image: rawkkim / Unsplash

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On 4th December 2025, after months of delays and uncertainty, fans of the Eurovision Song Contest received news many had hoped would not come. At its winter General Assembly in Geneva, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) cancelled a vote on Israel’s participation.

Israel, which the Palestinian Health Ministry in Gaza states has killed at least 70,000 Palestinians in its genocide against Palestine since October 2023, will be allowed to participate in the 2026 Eurovision in Vienna.

Israel’s determination to stay in Eurovision comes as little surprise to those who have followed the contest over recent years. President Isaac Herzog has intervened several times to ensure the state’s participation, most recently meeting with Roland Weissman, director of the Eurovision 2026 host broadcaster, Austria’s ÖRF, “to ensure Israel participates”, and creating a “dedicated team” for a concerted diplomatic campaign to keep Israel in the contest.

But the ultimate decision over whether Israel would be allowed to stay in the contest was made by the EBU. That decision raises important questions about the role the EBU plays in enabling states to use the contest for culturewashing, and what that means for audiences.

Culturewashing and complicity

A large body of scholarship on sport-, art-, culture- and pinkwashing shows us how states use the platforms provided by mega-events like Eurovision, the Olympics, and the World Cup to launder their reputations on an international stage.

As Olympics scholar Jules Boykoff puts it, sportswashing refers to the ways “political leaders use sports to appear important or legitimate on the world stage while stoking nationalism and deflecting attention from chronic social problems and human rights woes on the home front.”

States can distract audiences from violence or other political problems through spectacle and the promise of escapism. This is often achieved through staging lavish opening ceremonies that purport to “welcome” international audiences even as host states restrict who is physically or socially welcomed to the events – and happens in authoritarian regimes and democracies alike.

Additionally, music and politics scholar Marco Basioli explains show states use the positive, celebratory atmospheres and branding of an event to produce “acceptable instead of unpleasant representations” of their country. He points to the example of Russia’s decision to send Manizha, a Russian-Tajik feminist and pro-LGBTQ+ activist, to Eurovision in 2021 in order to create the impression that the state accepted progressive values.

The emphasis in sport- and culturewashing scholarship is often on the actions of the governments trying to hide or change perceptions of the violence and human rights abuses they are committing.

The emphasis in sport- and culturewashing scholarship is often on the actions of the governments trying to hide or change perceptions of the violence and human rights abuses they are committing. But a key part of the reason that states can use mega-events for political gain so effectively is because the event organisers let them. FIFA’s decision to award US President Donald Trump with “a peace prize” in December is one particularly absurd recent illustration of this process, but Eurovision is not far behind.

In other words, to understand how culturewashing works, we also have to pay attention to complicity. Complicity generally refers to being indirectly involved in wrongdoing or harm. Philosopher Hannah Arendt, for example, made a distinction between guilt (directly committing harm) and responsibility (taking responsibility for being part of a community that allowed harm or failed to prevent it).

In the context of mega-events, this means that organisers like the EBU are making a choice to provide a platform for genocidal states, which allows the states to normalise their actions in the international arena.

Non-political entertainment

The EBU goes to great lengths to try to hide its role in enabling Israel’s participation and avoid accountability. The most obvious way it does this is by claiming the contest is both “non-political” and “an entertainment show”. In April 2024, then-Executive Supervisor Martin Österdahl explicitly cited Eurovision’s status as entertainment to justify the contest’s supposedly “non-political” stance:

“We understand that people are concerned, but ultimately this is a music show, this is a family entertainment show, and we should focus on that. We are not the arena to solve a Middle East conflict.”

This rhetorical move downplays Eurovision’s active role on the geopolitical stage, including endorsing Israel’s participation. It also positions the contest as “harmless fun”, creating distance between the contest’s actions and responsibility for the broader political consequences of those actions.

In a single statement, the EBU managed to diminish the influence of the competing artists in order to absolve them of responsibility for participating, as well as dismiss the legitimate criticisms of fans and activists by framing them as bullies.

Since 2024, the EBU has expanded this rhetorical power beyond basic claims to neutrality to discursively restrict how responsibility and complicity can be framed in relation to Eurovision. In the months leading up to the Malmö edition of the contest, for example, many Eurovision fans, along with the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement and other activist groups, sent letters and petitions urging competing artists who had publicly expressed support for Palestine to withdraw.

In response, the EBU issued a statement chastising fans for engaging in “targeted social media campaigns against some of our participating artists.” The statement accused fans of “online abuse, hate speech, [and] harassment,” calling the public pressure “unacceptable and completely unfair, given the artists have no role in this decision.”

In a single statement, the EBU managed to diminish the influence of the competing artists in order to absolve them of responsibility for participating, as well as dismiss the legitimate criticisms of fans and activists by framing them as bullies. In doing so, the EBU constricts who can be seen as complicit, and what they are complicit – or not complicit – in.

In the December General Assembly meeting last year, the EBU deployed this tactic again by tying the already twice-delayed vote on Israel’s participation to the separate question of voting reform. This put the question of whether a state committing genocide should be allowed in the competition on the same footing as reforms to the integrity of the televoting system, reducing the political and humanitarian concerns raised by countries such as Slovenia and Spain to a technocratic procedural matter.

Reframing boycott as an individual choice

Slovenia, Spain, the Netherlands, Ireland and Iceland have withdrawn from the 2026 contest in protest. The Netherlands and Ireland have participated in the contest since its inception, and Ireland is one of the contest’s most successful participating countries – joint record holder for the highest number of wins (7, with Sweden), and the only country to have won three times consecutively. Spain and the Netherlands are also some of the contest’s largest financial contributors, paying in recent years approximately €330,000 and €250,000 in participation fees, respectively.

Despite this, the EBU is claiming the outcome of the December meeting as a victory. The EBU announced the result of the meeting in a statement declaring that “EBU Members show clear support for reforms to reinforce trust and protect neutrality of Eurovision”. Eurovision’s Executive Director, Martin Green, likewise claimed that the meeting reaffirmed “the belief that the Eurovision Song Contest shouldn’t be used as political theatre.”

The EBU is already trying to undermine the impact of the withdrawals by framing them as individual choice rather than principled action.

The fact that the EBU is willing to let these countries withdraw to protect a state committing genocide lays bare the lengths Eurovision will go to in order to maintain its relationship with Israel. The EBU is already trying to undermine the impact of the withdrawals by framing them as individual choice rather than principled action.

As Green noted in an interview following the meeting, “that’s their choice, I completely respect that.” Green also undermined the impact of the withdrawing states’ intention not to broadcast the contest next year by promising that the EBU will “fully make sure that the fans and the audiences can watch the show.”

Resisting complicity: Partial and total boycott

All of these decisions put audiences and artists in an unenviable position. The EBU has the authority to remove countries that do not live up to the contest’s stated values and broadcasting standards, as it did with Russia in 2022 and Belarus in 2021.

The national broadcasters had the procedural power at the EBU General Meeting to demand two separate votes – one for Israel’s participation and one for televoting reform. The broadcasters also still have the power to stand for what is right and make the contest financially unviable by joining the boycotting countries and demanding Israel’s exclusion. By refusing to act, the EBU and national broadcasters force individual fans to choose either to give up something they love, or to keep watching and be made complicit in the normalisation of genocide.

Eurovision fans enable Israel’s culturewashing campaign by continuing to watch and engage with the contest. As fan studies scholars such as Matt Hills explain, fans are not just avid followers of sport and culture, they are consumers, with the capacity to choose where and how they spend both their money and their attention, including to lobby for social or political change.

When Eurovision fans buy tickets to the live shows, buy merchandise, or participate in televoting, they are directly contributing to the financial success of the contest, and tacitly endorsing (or at least, not entirely rejecting) the decisions of its organisers.

The broadcasters also still have the power to stand for what is right and make the contest financially unviable by joining the boycotting countries and demanding Israel’s exclusion.

Many Eurovision fans recognise this financial link and have started engaging in what they call “partial boycott”, still watching but no longer spending money. This can be an important first step in individual fans’ processes of distancing themselves from an event they believe is no longer living up to the values they care about.

Yet even watching at home still indirectly enables culturewashing by providing Israel with an audience and allowing the EBU to claim the event is as popular as ever. According to the EBU, 166 million people tuned in to Eurovision in 2025 – 3 million more viewers than in 2024.

In contrast, total boycott that disrupts the viewing figures, and related actions such as attending alternative events or campaigning to persuade more national broadcasters to withdraw if Israel participates, make it much more difficult for Eurovision and Israel to claim that the contest is continuing as normal.

The boycott gains momentum

As difficult as navigating individual and collective complicity in enabling culturewashing can be for many fans, there is still hope. The five boycotting countries have dealt a massive reputational and financial blow to Eurovision. It is especially humiliating that, with only 35 participating countries confirmed, the 70^th anniversary of the event will be its smallest edition since the introduction of the semi-final in 2004.

The withdrawals are also an important victory for the BDS movement and for Palestine. Slovenia, the Netherlands, Ireland, Spain and Iceland have sent a clear moral message that they will not party with genocidaires. Emboldened by their action, many fans and artists have expressed their intention to boycott.

With only 35 participating countries confirmed, the 70^th anniversary of the event will be its smallest edition since the introduction of the semi-final in 2004.

Other countries and fan communities may yet follow suit, and the more people and countries join the boycott, the more the EBU will feel the pressure to exclude Israel. That momentum will also build around other international sporting competitions and cultural events in which Israel participates.

In an interval act during the 2025 Eurovision in Basel, one of the show’s hosts, Hazel Brugger, delivered a lyric that tellingly exposed the impact of Eurovision’s supposed apolitical stance: “non-political, strictly neutral / doesn’t matter if you’re good or brutal”. The more the EBU doubles down on the claim that Eurovision’s non-political stance allows it to unite through music, the more it shows us that what Eurovision has chosen to be united with is genocide and occupation.

Zoë Jay is a Kone Foundation-funded researcher in international politics at the Centre for European Studies at the University of Helsinki. Her research focuses on fan communities and the politics of international mega-events.

Article image: The stage of the Eurovision Song Contest 2025 in Basel, Switzerland / MrSilesian / Wikimedia Commons CC0

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Colombia has been internationally known for its long-term armed conflict that began in the 1960s, the illicit cocaine production and trafficking that has been intimately associated with it, and its strategic relations with the United States in security and drug enforcement policy.

After decades of brutal war, a long-awaited and polarizing peace agreement was signed in 2016 between the Colombian government and the largest rebel group, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC).

According to the Truth Commission, the armed conflict had resulted in over 450,000 documented homicides and more than 120,000 disappeared persons, with right-wing paramilitaries – financed mainly by land-owners – being the main perpetrators, followed by guerrilla groups and state actors. Nearly six million persons had been internally displaced.

The results of the 2022 elections surprised everyone as the country, where many view socialism with suspicion, elected its first-ever left-wing President, Gustavo Petro. Since his election, Petro, a former guerrilla fighter of the M19 rebel group, has been determined to bring all actors of the armed conflict, including violent and illegal rebel and paramilitary groups, to the peace table; thus, the notion of “total” in his peace plan.

Yet internally the threat of violence and the power of criminal groups is on the rise. Meanwhile, the increased militarization and securitization of multilateral peace operations globally, lurks in the background.

The Promise of Total Peace vs. Reality on the Ground

In addition to the FARC, several other guerrilla groups and paramilitary groups were involved in the Colombian conflict. The Total Peace law created two streams of dialogue: political dialogues with illegal armed actors that had recognised political status, and “socio-legal dialogues” with those labelled highly organised criminal groups, including the drug cartels.

Although the Total Peace process began with a national-level approach, in practice, the dialogues that have made the most progress were those with a territorial focus, in which negotiations and agreements have been adapted to the specific context of the regions. Nevertheless, the results of the peace dialogue today, with only five months left of the current presidential term, have been mixed at best and the internal narrative of a false dichotomy between peace efforts and security is strengthened.

The dialogue with the National Liberation Army (ELN), the second largest guerrilla group, has been suspended due to escalating violence and a humanitarian crisis in the Catatumbo region, distrust between the negotiating parties, and the ELN’s continued engagement in human rights violations. For many years, Colombia has been the most dangerous country in the world for human rights defenders, particularly with regard to land, environmental, and Indigenous peoples’ rights.

Although the Total Peace process began with a national-level approach, in practice, the dialogues that have made the most progress were those with a territorial focus, in which negotiations and agreements have been adapted to the specific context of the regions.

However, the Comuneros del Sur, a splinter group, continues to negotiate with the government and has made progress on key issues, including humanitarian demining, the search for missing persons, weapons surrender, substitution of illicit crops, and the development of a territorial transformation programme.

For its part, the Bolivarian National Army Coordinator (CNEB), a group of former FARC combatants who rejected the 2016 peace plan, has begun a pilot programme for the voluntary substitution of coca crops across 30,000 hectares in Nariño and Putumayo, with the potential for nationwide expansion. The negotiations with the Estado Mayor de Bloques y Frentes (EMBF, the FARC dissident sect) have consolidated six agreements focusing on ending child recruitment, protecting the environment, and – most importantly – guaranteeing safety for the 2026 elections.

Dialogues with the Gaitanista Army of Colombia (EGC), a right-wing paramilitary group, and the Autodefensas Conquistadoras de la Sierra Nevada (ACSN), a paramilitary armed group, are facing major hurdles due to a lack of ceasefire compliance and persistent violence. A core challenge is the EGC is not looking to submit to justice, and its territorial control has vastly expanded, with more than 9,000 fighters and a leading role in cocaine and migrant trafficking in the region.

Despite these tensions, and following two rounds of talks in Doha, mediated by Norway, Spain, and Switzerland, the government is moving the negotiations to Tierralta, Córdoba, with the third cycle scheduled to begin in March 2026.

Legacy of the 2016 FARC Peace Agreement

Despite the continuation of violence, the 2016 peace agreement remains a landmark achievement, with nearly 12,000 FARC combatants disarmed. The majority remain committed to the reintegration process through productive projects and the formation of cooperatives. The FARC has transitioned into a political party, the Comunes, which has held seats in Congress for two legislative terms.

The accord also strengthened democratic guarantees for political opposition and expanded political participation more broadly. The agreement established a comprehensive transitional justice system, including the Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP) and the Truth Commission, to investigate and prosecute serious crimes and provide reparations for victims.

Despite the continuation of violence, the 2016 peace agreement remains a landmark achievement, with nearly 12,000 FARC combatants disarmed.

However, the implementation of its core provisions has been slow and uneven. As its 10th anniversary approaches, key areas like rural reform and security guarantees, as well as transitional justice initiatives, continue to lag, raising concerns about the long-term sustainability of the peace process. In particular, the slow pace of rural reform is a foundational failure that perpetuates the very conditions that fueled the original conflict.

Furthermore, the implementation of gender equality and ethnic inclusion has been particularly slow. Of the 130 gender-focused commitments, only 13% have been completed, while 17% have not even been started. Similarly, out of the 80 ethnically focused commitments, as related to Indigenous peoples and Afro-Colombians, just 13% have been fulfilled, and at least 60% have shown no progress in the last two years.

U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration has been critical towards the lack of progress in implementing the 2016 agreement and of the role of the United Nations Verification Mission in Colombia responsible for monitoring its key provisions, leading to a weakening of its mandate.

Trump’s Changing Geopolitics toward Latin America

Traditionally, Colombia has been the strongest US ally in South America. Since the initiation of Plan Colombia in 2000, which focuses on counternarcotics and security efforts, Colombia has consistently ranked as one of the largest recipients of US foreign aid.

While President Joe Biden pronounced Colombia as the most important non-NATO ally to the U.S., tensions have escalated during the second Trump Administration. In January 2025, when Petro declined to accept a US military aircraft carrying Colombian deportees, the relationship between him and Trump – both active social media users – heated up online.

In July 2025, when the US Agency for International Development (USAID) closed its operations worldwide, Colombia was among the hardest-hit countries, losing 82 per cent of its US funding. The impacts have been felt most severely with regard to refugees and internally displaced persons, whose numbers in Colombia are among the highest in the world, not solely due to long histories of war but also due to nearly three million refugees from neighbouring Venezuela. 

When the US Agency for International Development (USAID) closed its operations worldwide, Colombia was among the hardest-hit countries, losing 82 per cent of its US funding. The impacts have been felt most severely with regard to refugees and internally displaced persons.

In recent months, the Trump administration has designated Colombia as a major illicit drug-producing country, accusing its political leadership of failing to meet coca eradication goals and allowing coca cultivation and cocaine production to break “all-time records”. Subsequently, President Petro and his family members and other close allies have been sanctioned under the pretext of their involvement in “the global illicit drug trade”.

The situation in Colombia has become tense due to Trump’s revival of the Monroe Doctrine, now known as the “Donroe Doctrine”, which aims at re-establishing U.S. supremacy in the Western hemisphere.

After U.S. attacks on alleged drug-trafficking boats in the Caribbean in November, Petro announced that Colombia’s security forces would stop sharing intelligence with the US due to its severe human rights violations. Trump responded that he could extend anti-drug military operations in Colombia. After the U.S. military intervention in Venezuela in January, Trump has repeated his threats.

The Fragile Gamble of Colombian Diplomacy

The incomplete implementation of the 2016 peace agreement and the state’s failure to establish a comprehensive presence in areas once controlled by the FARC has created a power vacuum that has led to the rise of dissident groups. As a result, they now pose a significant threat to peace, fueling a new wave of violence and complicating the government’s efforts to achieve “Total Peace.”

Additionally, external challenges to peace have risen from the global shift in geopolitical strategy that prioritizes “hard power” over peace mediation, and the threats of a former ally, the U.S., whose extrajudicial airstrikes and military buildup in the Caribbean signal a new phase in U.S.-Latin American relations.

Carolina Buendía Sarmiento is a doctoral researcher of Global Development Studies at the University of Helsinki.

Eija Ranta is an Academy Research Fellow and Senior University Lecturer of Global Development Studies at the University of Helsinki.

Article image: David Restrepo / Unsplash

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Silent Legacy (2025). Directors: Jenni Kivistö and Jussi Rastas, Finland

The movie Silent Legacy is a personal and intimate documentary about the life of dancer and choreographer Sibiry Konaté, based in Finland. Focusing on everyday life of Sibiry, the movie simultaneously presents intersections of identity, migration, dancing professionality, parenting, loneliness and friendship.

Most importantly, it invites us into the transnational life of Sibiry and unfolds tensions related to remittances – transfer of money or goods – back to Burkina Faso. Hence, the movie navigates on personal but also societal levels, revealing the silent legacy of monetary burdens connecting African diaspora members in Europe.

In the words of Sibiry: “It is a shadow of colonialism”. When you migrate to Europe, your position changes and what people see in you is money. This entails that you are expected to bring back money when you go to Western countries. As Sibiry notes: “Everybody relies on you so it’s a heavy burden”.

Behind the underlying burden of coloniality, the movie is visually beautiful, incorporating scenes from Tiene, Sibiry’s village in Burkina Faso. We see children dancing and playing, we hear the sounds of animals and can sense the dust in the sand.

These scenes are interwoven with Sibiry dancing in various contexts—against the white snow representing Finland, in an elevator, and in a white suit while spreading money—insightfully and sensitively illustrating how he navigates different spaces and positions in his transnational life.

Lost between two continents?

There is, from my white, Finnish, perspective a sadness in a legacy you cannot leave behind, a legacy that follows you around in your everyday life. This phenomenon is well pictured in the movie through voice messages from friends and family hoping for money.

Having lived in Finland for a long time, the sense of belonging to his village in Burkina Faso has changed. It becomes clear that the Sibiry who left Tiene is no longer welcome as the boy he once was, and that he is not able to go back living in Tiene as the Sibiry he was before moving to the West. Now, he is what he himself refers to as “a god from the land of white people”, everybody wants something from him.

There is, from my white, Finnish, perspective a sadness in a legacy you cannot leave behind, a legacy that follows you around in your everyday life. This phenomenon is well pictured in the movie through voice messages from friends and family hoping for money.

This movie contributes to unfolding various complexities in life, as Sibiry is partly an African decent migrant in Finland, struggling in a system with structural racism and partly a privileged European in the eyes of the Tienes relatives and friends. As he states:

“You’re lost between two countries, two continents”

In order to somewhat fulfill the request from friends and family, and perhaps also still the flow of requests of money, Sibiry plans to ship a van from Finland to Burkina Faso. In the burden of doing correctly, he ponders if sending a van can be perceived as showing off – or if the villagers will think the van is not good enough. We see how he negotiates on renovations of the van in Finland, packs the van full with necessities and then ships it to the African continent.

“This bus could bring big changes to Tiene”

Eventually the van does not make it to Sibirys’s village as due to various struggles and setbacks. In the movie, these moments and struggles are brilliantly filmed through the scene of the van, in a dark background, without its engine. Symbolically, the black hole where the engine once sat resonates with the feeling Sibiry might have; this is the thank you get for saving money to buy a van and shipping it to Burkina Faso – getting betrayed.

African remittance legacy

Situating the movie and Sibiry’s experiences in a larger perspective, Sibiry is part of the African diaspora in the Nordic countries. As noted by the United Nations, the amount of remittances to African countries has grown during the past years, due to a larger African diaspora but also due to mobile options for sending remittances.

Remittances from African diaspora members have a great impact on African economy, from macro structures such as larger companies to microstructures of households and neighborhoods. However, it appears that the report does not address the negative sides of remittances, the dark sides of monetary bounds that are well documented in the movie.

According to recent research, remittances also appear to increase conflicts in Sub-Saharan Africa. Looking at individual experiences of remittance senders, research highlights socio-cultural norms, such as ubuntu, creating tensions and pressure among migrants to send money “back home”, while simultaneously settling in the host country.

The amount of remittances to African countries has grown during the past years, due to a larger African diaspora but also due to mobile options for sending remittances.

In the movie, we see Sibiry working at Posti and as a cleaner, picturing the precarious situation when it comes to employment for migrants of African descent in Finland. Due to structural challenges in the Finnish job market, such as employment and recruitment discrimination or unnecessary high language requirements, working in precarious positions at low paid jobs is something many migrants end up doing.

Personally, I feel this is such a waste of Sibiry’s dancing talent and feel sad for living in a society not appreciating the dancing expertise Sibiry brings to Finland. Ten years ago, I took part in Sibiry’s afro dance classes and recalled thinking that he should be teaching experts. And so he has been, but still, I cannot but feel frustration against attitudes in the job market in Finland.

“I came here to dance”

“For me dancing is freedom”

From my perspective, it feels unreasonable and unequal that in addition to striving to get along economically and settle in a new host country, one would need to send remittances “back home”. These are exactly the global inequalities Jenni Kivistö and Jussi Rastas with their documentary movies want to illustrate.

The white gaze

This is not the first documentary movie made by Jenni Kivistö and Jussi Rastas. Previously, the couple has been internationally recognized and awarded for their documentary movie Colombia in My Arms. In a documentary series about creative couples at the streaming site Yle Areena, we can follow their journey highlighting global inequalities and unfolding colonial legacies.

In recent years, the lens has also turned towards themselves, raising a discussion about representation and them as white from the Global North making movies about the Global South. We hear them pondering about whether it actually matters if they are white, making a movie in Africa or if it is more important to highlight inequalities than to critically scrutinize them being Europeans and racially white.  

I would suggest that both matters, and that it definitively matters if you are racially white when making movies about colonial legacies. It matters what information, what spaces, what standpoints and what resources you might access. Likewise, it matters that I have a white gaze when writing this review, it positions me differently than if it had been written by an African decent researcher. Scrutinizing the structurally powerful position one has supports self-reflection related to individual encounters, but also power encounters between the Global South and North societies.

Scrutinizing the structurally powerful position one has supports self-reflection related to individual encounters, but also power encounters between the Global South and North societies.

The film demonstrates considerable sensitivity, and Kivistö and Rastas’ personal experiences of living and spending significant time in the Global South inform their understanding of global inequalities. However, recognizing how being white matters would allow the viewers to feel – for coming movies- that this is an ethically sound movie, where white privileges are made conscious – and perhaps contested.

Towards the end, I want to thank both Sibiry and the documentary makers for this important movie, highlighting intersections of transnational life. Openly sharing personal relations, joys and disappointments for a large public requires strength and courage, thank you for this Sibiry. I really wish this documentary movie would be viewed by politicians, researchers and students and I wish Sibiry, that you will be able to dance, freely.

Liselott Sundbäck is a postdoctoral researcher in social policy at Åbo Akademi University.

Silent Legacy (Directors: Jenni Kivistö and Jussi Rastas, 2025) is screened at DocPoint-festival 3.–8.2.2026.
Check the screening programme for showtimes.

Read all Politiikasta DocPoint 2026 reviews in english here.

All Politiikasta DocPoint 2026 reviews in Finnish here.

Article image: Silent Legacy (2025) / DocPoint

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