Immigrants, Race, and European Exceptionalism

In Boundaries of Queerness, Katharina Kehl examines how Swedish identity is informed by tolerant ideologies and racial stereotypes. She presents three compelling case studies concerning (1) a right-wing Pride event, (2) Swedish Armed Forces marketing materials, and (3) an Instagram account dedicated to giving voice to LGBT+ racial and ethnic minorities. She shows that Swedishness is racialized, where White Swedes are commonly considered “exceptional” concerning their social tolerance of LGBT+ people. The national narrative of tolerant Swedes is so strong that the rightwing Sweden Democrats deploy pro-LGBT+ tolerance to further their anti-immigrant agenda (this deployment is termed homonationalism). Immigrants, especially Muslims from the Middle East and North Africa, are portrayed as hostile threats to LGBT+ people and hence to Swedes overall.

What is particularly novel here is Kehl’s examination of the Sweden Democrats’ (right-wing party) Pride event in a Stockholm suburb associated with immigrants. In these events, Sweden Democrats protest the culture clash that (they argue) is precipitated by multiculturalism: intolerant immigrants living with tolerant Swedish people. Tolerant and queer Whites must endure threats from foreign, intolerant others in their argument. In Kehl’s terms, White Swedes are intelligible as victims (both LGBT+ and non-LGBT+) of racialized immigrants. Racialized LGBT+ people are rendered unintelligible from the perspective of Swedish exceptionalism. Racialized sexual minorities in Sweden often need to navigate exclusion due to stereotypes of being dangerous, while also not meeting the racial standard of tolerant White Swedes. Meanwhile, LGBT+ people of color may also face ostracization in their home communities and families.

The Swedish Armed Forces have Pride campaigns that highlight the military’s role in defending LGBT+ rights. Their messaging frames the military as a guarantor of the rights demonstrated at Pride events, contrasting Sweden with the homophobia associated with Eastern Europe, especially Russia, as well as poorer regions of the world. Kehl argues these campaigns show the intelligibility of Swedish queers to political institutions, while the struggles of queers of color are erased under the assumptions of already-established tolerance in Sweden.

Furthermore, Kehl analyzes the content of 700 Instagram posts by 86 writers (mainly in their 20s and 30s) on a Swedish-based account created by and for non-White and Muslim LGBT+ people. A common theme in the posts was frustration about Whites’ conflation of Islam and homophobia, particularly concerning coming out to one’s family (a frequently asked question online). Writers indicated dissatisfaction with norms surrounding coming out among Whites, which were insensitive to the family dynamics in many Muslim families. Some writers felt that it should be considered socially appropriate not to come out of the closet. Other writers commented on being fetishized when dating in Sweden, as well as being desexualized, meaning that some Whites are not attracted to them. Overall, Kehl paints a picture where the online community gave voice to marginalized perspectives that may have difficulty communicating in physical spaces.

Throughout the book, Kehl leverages the concept of homonationalism, which has become a hallmark of critical theory on narratives of tolerance. “Progress” regarding tolerance is often addressed as a social good, but homonationalism means that tolerance could delineate a national in-group (Swedes) and foreign out-groups (Muslim immigrants). One of Kehl’s contributions is to provide intriguing case study evidence of homonationalism and its consequences for LGBT+ immigrants who may feel unwelcome among the dominant national in-group and their immigrant community.

What I think needs more emphasis in this book is how discussions of sexual minorities and Swedish exceptionalism map onto the broader societal debates of immigration and multiculturalism. Racial tensions within the Swedish LGBT+ community, where whiteness marks the dominant racial group, reflect overarching tensions. Kehl argues that members of that dominant group deploy LGBT+ issues to their political ends (whether on the left or the right).

Furthermore, grappling with the central findings of Ronald Inglehart’s and Pippa Norris’ modernization theories would have enriched Kehl’s analysis by couching her findings in a global context (see the books Cultural Evolution and Cultural Backlash, both published at Cambridge University Press in 2018 and 2019, respectively). Modernization theory posits that affluence leads to personal autonomy, more self-expression, and openness to out-groups, while poverty leads to conservative values that provide a sense of stability and predictability in the face of material uncertainty. Modernization theory could help explain why an affluent society like Sweden’s would harbor greater tolerance, which further contextualizes the debates within queer communities as well as right-wing attempts to speak to tolerant norms.

The next book continues the themes of immigrants, race, and European exceptionalism. In The Color of Desire: The Queer Politics of Race in the Federal Republic of Germany After 1970, Christopher Ewing skillfully analyzes how debates between racist and anti-racist forces came to dominate German queer politics in the late twentieth century. He shows that the independence movements and nationalism of Islamic countries, alongside growing migration to Europe, led to Muslim immigrants becoming greater targets of racism inside and outside of queer communities.

A significant strength of this study lies in its tracing of homonationalism from the relationships between Western and non-Western societies from the mid-twentieth century onward. Some Westerners in countries like West Germany traveled to colonies in Africa and the Middle East, and participated in sex tourism that may have provided more opportunities for homosexual connections than they would in their home communities. An “orientalist” stereotype of sexually open foreign countries existed in queer communities. However, anti-colonial and nationalist movements upset this impression due to the socially conservative ideologies that came to dominate the independent governments in Africa and the Middle East. Islam, in particular, came to be seen by many in Europe as a growing threat to sexual minorities. In 1978, the International Lesbian and Gay Association was founded to help address homophobic laws primarily in Europe initially, and increasingly in other countries around the world through the 1980s and 1990s. These forces, Ewing contends, stoked perceptions of European exceptionalism and fueled arguments for Europe’s relative tolerance.

Ewing’s book also addresses the acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS) crisis. The crisis engendered more collaborative and organized LGBT+ communities, which brought White and non-White people together to combat the humanitarian crisis. The German AIDS-Help group condemned racism and xenophobia in their efforts to invest in AIDS prevention among communities of color. For some time during the crisis, LGBT+ groups deprioritized anti-Islam anxiety, driven by coalitions of activists between Whites and people of color. However, with this greater pluralism, tensions grew between the White and non-White people among the LGBT+ people in Germany.

Concurrently, in the 1980s, international LGBT+ activism emerged, which contributed to growing tensions between Global North and South activists who disagreed on definitions of gay politics and appropriate political action. European activists concluded that European governments (and regional institutions) should be examples of tolerance and push for public advocacy and new anti-discriminatory measures: decriminalizing homosexuality, equalizing the age of consent, and promoting nondiscrimination in the workplace, among others. This exceptionalism contrasted with Global South activists who generally had more modest outcomes in their sights, given their conservative context.

From the 1990s onward, Ewing shows how, in his terms, Queer Fascism (exclusionary, anti-immigrant elements of queer communities) and Queer Antiracism (inclusive, pro-immigrant elements of queer communities) debated Muslim immigration and its effects on German society. On the one hand, White-led queer right-wing politics attacked anti-racism by framing it as anti-democratic (or favorable toward intolerant values associated with people of color), while extolling European exceptionalism. On the other hand, the Migrants, Lesbians, and Gays Center was created to address issues for migrants who are sexual minorities. This center campaigned to educate the population about discrimination against sexual minorities, inside and outside of immigrant communities.

An important message from this antiracist movement is that German society should embrace the pluralism that allows for disagreements in values (distinguishing Germany from some of the autocratic countries that are sources of migration). The anti-LGBT+ stigma in immigrant communities means that trust-building and advocacy are challenging, and the group German AIDS-Help worked to counter racism by helping queer immigrant communities (e.g., disseminating information in the Turkish language). Ewing portrays antiracists as caught between acknowledging the conservatism in immigrant communities and countering the homonationalist forces (e.g., in the Alternative for Germany) that tout European sexual exceptionalism (i.e., support for queer Whites at the expense of immigrants). Ewing also points out that the right-wing populists may also be rejecting the tolerant democratic and European institutions that are foundational to exceptionalist arguments. It is a difficult task to weave together the paradoxical and tangled ideological arguments that Ewing is studying, but I believe that he does a good job of illuminating the debates.

Similar to my review of Kelh’s analysis, I think Ewing’s book would benefit from couching his arguments in the broader debates in German society. Tensions between subjective fascism and subjective anti-fascism are simultaneously queer and non-queer. Ewing contributes by showing the tensions within the queer community, but I would have preferred more material on how queer people represent part of the national debate. Moreover, my previous points about modernization theory apply here as well, because I believe the book’s readers should hear more about the reasons why there is a gulf in values between German society and the countries of origin of many immigrants. I believe that the “rightwing” described by the author in Germany should be contextualized: intense global homophobia is weaponized by homonationalists in the Global North against immigrants. Comparing German intolerance to the intolerance of immigrants’ countries of origin would help to illuminate the conditions queer people face around the world, perhaps creating a more holistic argument about queer experiences.

Non-Traditional Sexual Minorities Finding Community

In their innovative book The Politics of Perverts: The Political Attitudes and Actions of Non-Traditional Sexual Minorities, Charles Anthony Smith, Shawn R. Schulenberg, and Connor B.S. Strobel study attitudes and traits of four communities of nontraditional sexual minorities: polyamorous communities, bondage discipline sadism masochism (BDSM) communities, nudists, and furry communities. Furthermore, they examine bisexuality, which they suggest is more prevalent in these communities than in the general population. Their quantitative methods center on snowball and convenience samples based on connections developed from events in these communities. The authors show that polyamorous and furry communities tend to be more Democratic than the general population, while BDSM and nudists are more similar to the general population. Nudists may be more Republican than the general population. The authors identified social media as important in bringing these communities together, especially since many members’ families are not on board with their sexual preferences. They also found many members had constructive family influences regarding sexual permissiveness. It is important to point out that the authors’ data are not representative samples, but they are the best available. This book is a great example of exploratory research in an understudied topic area.

This study raises fascinating questions about bisexuality. Are bisexuals drawn to nontraditional groups (bisexuals can have difficulty finding community), or does the freedom of these groups encourage sexual fluidity and experimentation? Could greater openness to more sexual behaviors follow from individuals feeling empowered to try new things? These groups may break down taboos and offer new norms for their members. According to the authors, the “pervert” groups have ethics of body and sex positivity, and they try to find unity through shared concerns of self-determination and autonomy. Another reason these sexual minority groups are intriguing for bisexuality (and sexual identity in general) is that they do not try to legitimize themselves with biological, genetic, or developmental arguments. In other words, they do not claim it is “not their choice” to be a member. They are adults who proclaim their volition to enter into communities and construct identities.

The group members seem to search for internal legitimacy with their own norms and ethics, with an understanding that their behavior may be controversial to society. Finding the efficacy to become an active participant is often an important goal of marginalized groups. The efficacy of the “perverts,” to some extent, looks away from the group members mattering to broader institutions and politics. These sexual minorities seem to primarily build efficacy with respect to their own community. As opposed to LGBT+ politics, the politics of “perverts” seems less concerned with “normalization” in society. These are important topics for future research. I felt the book could have benefited from a deeper discussion of socioeconomic status in these groups, such as how affluence may inform self-expression and what an equivalent study would find in less affluent societies than the United States.

The authors suggest that “perverts” are potential constituencies, a “kink coalition” in their words, that has not been mobilized by politicians. It seems to me that libertarian strands in both major parties (and the third parties, of course) could try to appeal to these groups, but the groups do not seem to form an advocacy network that would be legible to most politicians. Regarding outreach, interested politicians may have to take on challenging efforts to identify and reach these sexual minority voters. Many members of these communities may intend to be discreet to some extent, which could make constituency formation challenging. Who are the potential representatives of these groups that would network up and down the political ladder in the United States? I think the authors could do more to unpack this question. Related to this point, the authors admit difficulties in trying to develop relationships in these communities due to their outsider status (e.g., nudists could easily spot intruders). Their accounts lead me to believe that if other scholars tried to carry out this study, the findings could be quite different.

Social Movements and Advocacy in the EU Accession Process

In Coming In, Koen Slootmaeckers examines the politics of LGBT+ advocacy in the EU accession process of Serbia. He adeptly argues that Serbian governments tactically deploy LGBT+ rights to “fit in” with Western European governments (like Sweden’s), while shirking substantial investments in these rights. The author offers case studies concerning Serbian anti-discrimination policies and Belgrade Pride as evidence for his argument. His methods are mainly elite interviews with EU officials, Serbian officials, NGO officials, and activists, along with analyses of governmental documents like EU progress reports of candidate countries.

Regarding anti-discrimination laws, conforming to the EU entailed the electoral defeat of nationalists in 2008. The winning pro-European government complied with many of the EU’s prescribed legislative changes (a comprehensive anti-discrimination law). The nationalists, having lost in the passage of anti-discrimination legislation, turned their attention to Belgrade Pride, against which they encouraged protests and criticism. The EU does not have a standard for holding Pride events, but they do promote fundamental rights of freedom of assembly and expression. The EU can pressure governments to facilitate and secure Pride events when activists organize them. Slootmaeckers argues that the Serbian government went from banning Pride to engaging in tactical Europeanization, where they co-opt Pride to signal the pro-EU and flexible character of the government (in the face of societal conservatism). EU officials marked the first peaceful Pride in 2014 as a milestone for democratic Serbia. This tactical approach sidelines meaningful visibility and representation of marginalized communities, according to Slootmaeckers.

I believe that Slootmaeckers’ concept of the Ghost Pride is a key innovation in this study, which means a Pride that lacks the visibility of LGBT+ experiences. A Ghost Pride in Belgrade was propped up by the Serbian government with the performative purpose of appealing to the EU in the accession process. In particular, the Serbian government was pressured to demonstrate freedom of assembly and association. The Pride provided evidence for the EU of compliance. The heavy security presence at the Pride helped to both limit the visibility of queer people as well as protect marchers from protestors, creating a relatively ephemeral and nonimpactful event according to this research. Concurrent to the Pride, nationalist politicians worked to label the Pride and queer people as “foreign” in an attempt to delegitimate them.

This study extends existing theorizing concerning the EU accession process with a well-developed analysis of one candidate. For me, the main contribution is showing the interplay between a conservative government, domestic LGBT+ advocates, and the EU. His term, tactical Europeanization, represents domestic reactions to the external incentives of the EU, reflecting theorizing by scholars like Frank Schimmelfennig and Ulrich Sedelmeier. The tactic was to affirm the EU’s values without conforming to the spirit of the EU’s criteria.

One limit of the study is that it does not advance much theorizing beyond the external incentives model of Schimmelfennig’s and Sedelmeier’s introduction to their edited volume, The Europeanization of Central and Eastern Europe (2005), published at Cornell University Press. This model predicts that governments will conform to policies they disagree with when the perceived benefits of EU membership outweigh the cost of passing a policy. Slootmaeckers’ book adds nuance to our understanding of the interplay between the EU and governments that may not prioritize gay rights. For example, Slootmaeckers brings in his theory of the attitudinal panopticon, which means that the domestic attitudes (homophobia) lead officials to stymie the implementation of domestic-norm-breaking policies (the EU’s LGBT+ anti-discrimination policies in Serbia). In other words, worries about costly social repercussions lead to underreporting of discrimination and hate crimes (inside and outside of political institutions).

Domestic advocacy networks may be left to take advantage of new opportunities that the EU creates, while the government tries to circumscribe such activism. The Serbian case illustrates a context where the norms of tolerance in Germany and Sweden do not hold, and the queer community debates the external opportunities available to them.