In 2015, Finnish politics experienced an unprecedented collision between nationalist rhetoric and public resistance. A Facebook post by a parliamentarian from the Finns Party, calling for a fight against what he described as the ”nightmare of multiculturalism,” triggered demonstrations across Finland in defense of diversity. The scale of the protests reflected a broad recognition among citizens that xenophobic discourse, once confined to fringe groups, had become normalized through mainstream party politics. The Finns Party, propelled to prominence partly by its anti-immigration wing, entered government as a formidable political force, demonstrating how populist rhetoric can infiltrate the structures of power.
Yet this moment was not only about one politician’s statement. It illuminated the evolving relationship between political communication, media technologies, and the dynamics of shame in public discourse. Social networks provided fertile ground for inflammatory speech, while traditional media amplified controversies, often to unintended political effect. The boundary between civility and incivility became central to Finland’s struggle over multiculturalism and democratic values.
Media Scandals as Political Instruments
Anti-racist activists in Finland, like in many other European contexts, have sought to counter racist rhetoric by exposing it to public scrutiny. The logic is straightforward: if extremist statements are dragged into the open, their toxicity becomes visible, and political actors are pressured into accountability. Public shaming, in this sense, operates as a democratic tool.
However, the mechanism of scandal is more complex than its advocates might hope. Scandals personalize racism, focusing attention on individual politicians rather than the structural inequalities or systemic biases that underpin exclusionary politics. Moreover, the publicizing of racist speech can inadvertently extend its reach. What might otherwise have circulated only within online echo chambers can become national news, reinforcing the identity of politicians as martyrs or rebels in the eyes of their supporters.
The career of Jussi Halla-aho, a central figure in the Finns Party’s rise, illustrates this dynamic vividly. Once a marginal blogger, he was propelled into national prominence partly through court cases concerning his provocative writings. The trials, while critical of his views, gave him unprecedented publicity, enabling him to transform from a fringe agitator into a respected political actor. Here, public shaming functioned less as a deterrent than as a launchpad.
Scapegoats, Sacrifice, and Party Cohesion
A recurring feature in the Finns Party’s navigation of racist controversies has been the selective use of scapegoats. When an incident becomes too explosive, one figure may be expelled or sidelined to preserve the legitimacy of the broader movement. This mechanism, which echoes René Girard’s theory of scapegoating as a ritual that unites communities by expelling a transgressor, has played out in Finland as elsewhere.
The expulsion of James Hirvisaari in 2013 exemplifies this. His decision to invite a neo-Nazi guest to parliament, culminating in a staged ”Heil Hitler” salute, provided the perfect opportunity for the party to draw a line between acceptable nationalism and unacceptable extremism. By sacrificing Hirvisaari, the party’s leadership was able to consolidate authority and elevate other figures as rational moderates. Far from weakening the movement, scapegoating reinforced its coherence and allowed it to present itself as responsible while still accommodating xenophobic sentiments.
In contrast, more central figures, such as Olli Immonen, could not be so easily discarded. His organizational ties and parliamentary weight made him too valuable, leading party leadership to delay or soften any disciplinary action. This demonstrates the calculated nature of scapegoating: it is not about principle but about political expedience.
The Uncertain Role of Anti-Racist Mobilization
The mass demonstrations that followed Immonen’s post represented a turning point, showing that anti-racist mobilization could overshadow nationalist messaging. Unlike media scandals, which risk reinforcing the very rhetoric they seek to challenge, collective protest embodied a positive vision of society, asserting values of inclusion and plurality. In this sense, demonstrations broke the cycle of scandal politics by shifting the focus away from extremist speech and toward the kind of Finland people wanted to build.
Yet even this hopeful moment invites caution. Demonstrations, while symbolically powerful, are episodic. They can energize civil society, but unless they translate into sustained political influence, structural racism remains intact. Moreover, nationalist movements often thrive on polarization. Public protests can be reinterpreted by opponents as evidence of elite condescension or cultural suppression, further fueling populist narratives of victimhood.
Reflections on the Future of Public Debate
The Finnish case illustrates how fragile the boundary is between civility and incivility in democratic politics. Public shaming, while a valuable tool, is double-edged: it can silence racist rhetoric, but it can also elevate extremists by granting them visibility. Scapegoating may provide short-term relief for parties under pressure, but it risks legitimizing the broader ideology by presenting racism as the failing of individuals rather than systems.
What seems most promising is the cultivation of spaces where anti-racist values are articulated not only in opposition to nationalism but as proactive visions of democracy, justice, and coexistence. The demonstrations of 2015 hinted at such a possibility. The challenge lies in sustaining this momentum, ensuring that resistance to exclusionary politics is not reactive but foundational.
As societies across Europe confront resurgent nationalist movements, the Finnish experience offers a sobering lesson. The struggle against racism cannot rely solely on the exposure of hate speech or the ritual sacrifice of political scapegoats. It requires deeper engagement with the conditions that make exclusionary rhetoric appealing, from economic insecurity to cultural anxiety. The question remains: can liberal democracies craft responses that move beyond scandal toward genuine transformation of political culture?
