In recent years, Finnish universities have become increasingly vocal about their commitment to equality and non-discrimination. Official statements, equality plans, and press releases often invoke the language of “zero tolerance” toward racism, sexual harassment, and other forms of discrimination. At first glance, this language suggests firmness, a principled refusal to allow misconduct to thrive. Yet when we examine how such policies are enacted in practice, the gap between rhetoric and reality becomes stark.
The phrase “zero tolerance” has deep roots outside Finland. Emerging in the United States as a legal tool in the fight against drug trafficking, it migrated into school policies during the 1980s and 1990s. The aim was deterrence, but the results were punitive systems that disproportionately targeted Black students and worsened inequality. That Finnish universities have borrowed this vocabulary without reckoning with its history raises important questions: why import a concept tied to exclusionary practices, and what work does it actually do within the Finnish academic landscape?
Image Management Over Structural Change
Looking at how “zero tolerance” statements are deployed in Finland, it becomes clear that they often function less as mechanisms of accountability and more as strategies of image management. Universities make such declarations most often in the aftermath of scandals—when student groups appear in blackface, when professors are accused of harassment, or when racist notes circulate on campuses. By announcing “zero tolerance,” the institution signals its moral uprightness to the media and the wider public, even as its internal procedures remain vague or absent.
The hiring of Christian Ott at the University of Turku exemplifies this contradiction. Despite his well-documented history of sexual harassment in the United States, he was offered a research post in Finland. Only after public backlash did the university retract his appointment, all while reiterating its “zero tolerance” for harassment. Such contradictions reveal that the statement was not a genuine policy but a shield against reputational damage.
The Structural Blindness of Equality Plans
Equality and non-discrimination plans are meant to serve as concrete roadmaps for creating safe and inclusive universities. Yet in practice, many of these documents contain little beyond paraphrased legal obligations. When it comes to racism in particular, the plans often avoid naming the problem at all. Words like “gender” and “harassment” appear frequently, while terms like “race,” “racism,” or “antiblackness” are nearly absent.
The University of Jyväskylä’s documents, for instance, provide no strategy for addressing racial discrimination. Aalto University reduces racial equity to a marketing concern, requiring that promotional materials reflect diversity. Other universities acknowledge the principle of nondiscrimination but stop short of outlining how harassment will be identified, punished, or prevented. This silence is itself telling: it suggests that racism remains an afterthought, framed as an external import rather than an endemic institutional issue.
Performative Commitments and the Politics of Respectability
Drawing on the insights of feminist scholar Sara Ahmed, we can understand “zero tolerance” statements as non-performative speech acts. They declare a commitment but do not carry the weight of actual transformation. Like diversity tick-boxes, they allow institutions to demonstrate procedural compliance without altering the underlying structures that enable discrimination.
The danger of such commitments lies in their ability to preserve institutional respectability. By repeating “zero tolerance,” universities shield themselves from accusations of complicity. The phrase reassures staff, students, and external stakeholders that the institution is ethical, even while women, immigrants, Sámi, Roma, and racialised students continue to experience harassment and exclusion. In this sense, “zero tolerance” operates less as policy and more as public relations.
From Defensive Postures to Active Accountability
The reliance on “zero tolerance” also obscures an uncomfortable truth: discrimination is not absent from Finnish universities but actively tolerated until exposure forces a reaction. The fact that students feel free to appear in blackface or chant racist songs at official events illustrates that such behaviour remains within the bounds of the imaginable, even the acceptable. Similarly, the willingness to hire individuals with histories of harassment reflects institutional complicity rather than ignorance.
If tolerance were truly zero, such acts would not be conceivable. A genuine commitment requires more than slogans; it demands active preventative measures, transparent disciplinary procedures, and cultural change. This includes regular training for staff and students, specialist support for those targeted by discrimination, and clear sanctions against perpetrators. It also requires universities to listen to the lived experiences of those most affected and to allocate real resources toward equity work.
Toward a Feminist and Antiracist University
Imagining a Finnish university beyond “zero tolerance” means envisioning an institution where harassment and racism are not only sanctioned after the fact but rendered unthinkable. Such a transformation requires cultural shifts as well as policy reform. It demands feminist and antiracist pedagogy that names the problems directly rather than hiding behind vague euphemisms. It also insists on accountability: from hiring processes that consider ethical responsibility, to student associations that take an active role in dismantling racist practices.
The words of Angela Davis remain instructive: it is not enough to be “non-racist”; one must be actively antiracist. For Finnish universities, this means moving beyond statements of intent to practices that change how power operates within classrooms, departments, and research communities.
Conclusion: From Performance to Substance
“Zero tolerance” is a seductive phrase. It suggests certainty, moral clarity, and action. Yet in Finnish higher education, it too often serves as a ritual incantation, invoked to deflect scrutiny rather than to effect change. Universities have shown that they can speak the language of equality, but whether they can embody it remains an open question.
The challenge is not to abandon the language of commitment but to imbue it with substance: policies that protect victims, disciplinary processes that carry consequences, and cultures that make discrimination unthinkable. Only then will Finnish universities move from performance to practice, from defending their reputations to truly defending their communities.
The question, then, is not whether universities can say “zero tolerance” more convincingly, but whether they can build the kind of environments where the phrase becomes unnecessary—because racism and harassment no longer find space to exist.
