Europe’s migration chaos: can we learn from the ‘Danish model’?
There was international shock at the images of the borders of the Spanish enclave Ceuta being stormed by migrants earlier this year. The result has been sprawling street camps and daily reports of rapes and sexual assaults. These events captured how migration has become one of the defining trends shaping European politics. Even the European Commission – so often derided for being the key driving force behind mass migration – has been tripping over itself to announce new, tougher measures on border security and ‘returns’, the favoured Brussels euphemism for deportations.
The consequences of Europe’s open borders gamble – most famously exemplified by the decision by the former German chancellor, Angela Merkel, to admit over a million Syrian migrants – are hotly debated. Matthew Syed recently argued that Merkel’s decision was less an act of prudent compassion than a form of elite extremism: imposing fiscal strain, housing and school pressure, a spike in crime, and knock-on effects across Schengen, while treating public consent as an afterthought. It’s argued the seemingly unstoppable rise of the AfD is the consequence.
But wherever one looks around the continent there’s a similar story: tone-deaf legacy parties ignoring or mishandling the issue, while populist parties take advantage. In France, National Rally is a serious contender for power, leading to Reform’s signing of a memorandum with Jordan Bardella pledging, if both parties govern, to intercept Channel boats, return people to France, and treat illegal arrival after passage through safe countries as a trigger for detention and deportation rather than a claim for settlement.
Seemingly bucking this trend is Denmark. The ‘Danish Model’ stands out, in part because it’s been pioneered by Denmark’s social democrats rather than the right and was to some extent a deliberate effort to stem the rise of populist parties through a more restrictive immigration policy, Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen’s government argued that tighter asylum rules and stronger integration requirements are essential to preserving Denmark’s generous welfare state, high levels of social trust and shared sense of national identity. Copenhagen treated high volumes of low-skilled, poorly integrated immigrants as a threat to the very things social democracy exists to protect: cohesion, safety and the legitimacy of redistribution. After asylum was made temporary by default, benefits cut, family reunification tightened and ‘ghetto’ areas targeted for dispersal, asylum grants collapsed to historically low levels and net inflows of refugees slowed.
The Danish model has attracted growing attention from politicians seeking to prevent further electoral gains by populist parties. In the UK, the home secretary, Shabana Mahmood, has reportedly drawn inspiration from aspects of the Danish approach, including proposals to extend the qualifying period before migrants can obtain indefinite leave to remain and to restrict visa routes from countries with high rates of asylum claims.
But the Danish model is not without its critics: the left argue it is too harsh and note right populism did not vanish — the Danish People’s Party has shown it can rebound. On the right, it’s argued the issues of mass migration have only been moderated, rather than avoided. For this reason, many suggest that more fundamental reform is required: changing international treaties on asylum and interceptions, amending EU law or ending EU free movement, changing welfare systems to avoid the ‘pull factors’ attracting migrants in the first place.
What is the answer to Europe’s migration chaos? Can the parties of the centre get a grip on the issue, and emulate Denmark, before it fuels even more populist upsets? Is the Danish government’s policy package desirable – or even achievable – in the UK? Can Europe stomach revising the international organisations and postwar treaties which seem key to its self-image? Would getting a grip on mass migration really make the populists go away?
