In this chapter addresses how space making in relation to migrants’ religions is negotiated from the perspective of the receiving countries. In this chapter, we stress the difference between tactics, as social power practices among the less influential, and the strategies practiced by more influential social agents when establishing space, that is, the social practice of place. Thus, the space making tactics in focus in Chap. 3 here make way for discussion of strategies of space making by social agents who are likely to be able to assert and practice power in influential ways. In this case, these are states, regional and local authorities in the country of residence and more abstract social institutions such as political, juridical and educational systems.

To complement this perspective, we present useful theories from political science that make some crucial structures visible. In an influential book, political scientists Joel Fetzer and Christopher Soper (2005) set out to test how France, Germany and the UK have succeeded (or not) in accommodating the religious needs of Muslims, presenting four possible approaches: resource mobilisation theory, political opportunity structure theory, political ideological theories and the importance of church-state history.

The first theory focuses on the effects of successful or poor mobilisation by an interest group, in this case Muslims and their organisations, in competition with others. What alliances are made? What political capital can be created out of the mobilisation of resources (money, labour, people)? There is an affinity with social movement theories.

The second theory centres on how available legal, institutional, social and political structures may create or block opportunities for the political mobilisation of an interest group. It also suggests that achieving group goals is dependent on the political structures produced by institutions.

The third theory looks closely at how the political ideology of states – and especially ideas about citizenship, integration and plurality – might impact on an interest group’s opportunities. This again changes the focus, in this case from the group and state institutions to the importance of political ideology.

Finally – with the help of the findings of their study – Fetzer and Soper modify the theories by pointing out that ‘inherited’ socio-political church-state structures should be considered, as these form essential conditions for institutional structures, political ideologies and patterns of mobilisation.

Bellow we address this as the politics of religion. While modified versions of theory two and three have a strong explanatory value, Fetzer and Soper find that resource mobilisation theory cannot solely explain the accommodation of Muslims in the studied countries.

There are some weaknesses in their otherwise solid argumentation. The approach is a political science one, looking at structures over a fairly short period, and fails to illuminate the long-term hard work of religious individuals and organisations (i.e., resource mobilisation) that has, at times, led to changes in structures and ideologies. An illustrative example is the lobbying by Muslims and Jews in different states for a change in laws regulating slaughter and the accessibility to halal and kosher food in institutions such as schools, hospitals and prisons. By participating on committees, writing responses in the public sphere and making demands, and by doing so continuously over time, the situation for those who want halal or kosher slaughtered meat but accept non-fatal pre-stunning of the animals to be slaughtered has improved vastly over a period of 50 years. However, it has proved a pricey victory as it has provided antisemitic and Islamophobic activists with a tool with which to attack Jews and Muslims (e.g., Linehan, 2012; Nielsen & Otterbeck, 2016).

Yet another issue lacking attention in Fetzer’s and Soper’s study are relations between the state and domestic ethnic and religious minorities which run parallel with church-state history. For example, without such analysis, we may fail to understand the full background and importance of the proclamation by the Swedish state in 1975 that in future it would accept and promote multiculturalism. Among the most powerful lobbyists for this change was the Sámi population (the indigenous population in the north), not the new immigrants, whose numbers were still low at the time. The success of the Sámi, in turn, was highly dependent on the severe discrimination they experienced from the Swedish state and the increased political awareness of this injustice, yet migrants could also benefit from new political opportunity structures created by a change in ideology closely related to the resource mobilisation of the indigenous group (e.g., Cato, 2012; Lundgren, 2021).

Below, keeping Fetzer and Soper’s framework as reference, we first discuss the importance of the politics of religion over time, culminating in a contemporary example. We then discuss various legal issues related to religion, as these illustrate how the politics of religion can be implemented. The chapter ends with an overview of complex areas where the politics of religion leads to conflicts but may also render social cohesion: public institutions, antisemitism and islamophobia, securitisation and interfaith groups.

Our goal with the chapter is to complement Chap. 3 individual and group perspective with a state perspective, to present a richer understanding of religion and migration in Europe. Both research and public debates sometimes risk a primary focus on the questions and needs of states, excluding the needs, let alone the perspectives, of immigrants.

1 Politics of Religion in History and Today

In this part we accentuate the importance of focusing on the politics of religion, both in the present and, to a degree, the past, when studying post-1950 religion and migration. All European states have political strategies on religion, suggesting the prominent position of religions, although sometimes France is claimed to be an exception. This is folly. On the contrary, France is an interesting and illustrative case, with a very active politics of religion, mostly aimed at thwarting the influence of religious stakeholders. The relationship between the French state and the Catholic Church is regulated by a law dating from 9 December 1905, which, among other things, guarantees ‘freedom of conscience’ and the ‘free exercise of religion’. Of course, this applies to migrants too. Further, the state is responsible for the maintenance of churches that existed before 1905. However, in Alsace-Lorraine, a territory of France that has been alternately under French and German rule, old laws apply (the Concordat of 1801). In that region, the French state acknowledges certain named religions, a rather unusual arrangement in western Europe, but common in central and eastern Europe. The Concordat recognises three branches of Christianity (Catholicism, Lutheranism and Calvinism) and Judaism. Unlike the rest of France, the state pays the salaries of the clergy of these religions, organises religious education at state schools and provides for two theological faculties, one Catholic and one Protestant, at Strasbourg University. Attempts have been made to expand the category of recognised religions to include others, but to date these have failed. Nevertheless, Strasbourg University has been proactive and since 2014 has arranged training for Muslim imams centred on law, history and sociology. Further, even though the French state celebrates its own take on secularism, laïcité, and excludes religion from the state school curriculum altogether (except in Alsace-Lorraine, as mentioned), the Catholic Church is allowed, as the only religious denomination, to arrange private schools that affirm religion (e.g., Fetzer & Soper, 2005; Nielsen & Otterbeck, 2016).

It should be clear from this brief example that the politics of religion matters and that one needs to consider not only the claimed ideology of a state but also the actual practices in all their possibly contradictory forms. Moreover, studying the history of European states reveals the importance of religion(s) in the legitimation of power in laws, in the understanding of governance of religion in different public institutions such as education and healthcare, in religious conflicts and as part of the political and religious values of politicians.

1.1 The Westphalian Settlement

European religious politics are deeply rooted in history. As the prominence of multiculturalism in European politics grew from the mid-1970s until the early twenty-first century – in attempts to develop a durable political response to religious, cultural and ethnic diversity – it met firm resistance from conservatives and, later, from principally right-wing populists. Scholars claim the opposition originates in the political cognitive maps that have affected many Europeans’ political perceptions since the Westphalian Settlement of 1648 (e.g., Nexon, 2006). The trauma of the Thirty Years’ War led to attempts to formulate principals that would hinder future atrocities, efforts which, in terms of religion, found expression in the famous Latin phrase, cuius regio, eius religio, meaning that the religion of the ruler of a territory decides the religious belonging of those ruled. A principal borrowed from the 1555 Peace of Augsburg, it firmly established the idea of national churches, efficiently destroying future dreams of a politically united European Catholic Christendom.

The development and consolidation of national churches, assumed to dominate the same territory as a state, and the ensuing assumption that a proper citizen belonged to the national church, fashioned an implicit (sometimes explicit) normality. It also created severe problems for migrants of other faiths or Christian denominations who had to face social, legal, political and theological discrimination perceived as justified by the vast majority of any given state’s population and administration. It goes without saying that domestic national religious minorities also often suffered from this nationalistic politics of religion, although every state has its own trajectory in relation to this common history. When European nations became colonial powers, the national church model and the idea of the nation state were parts of the taken-for-granted status quo that followed colonialisation, thus affecting the politics of religion among colonialised people (e.g., Beyer, 2022).

When studying the politics of religion and migration to Europe, the legal, political and social aspects of citizenship must be considered; theoretical observations that are not anchored in history seldom reach relevant conclusions. Thus, any research project needs a grounded diachronic and synchronic knowledge of the field studied.

1.2 The Neighbourhood, the State, or the Transnational?

A word of caution is in order. Andreas Wimmer and Nina Glick Schiller (2002) have minted the term ‘methodological nationalism’, to alert the researcher to be cautious about whether the field they are studying is really the state. Researchers need to reflect on rescaling (Glick Schiller & Çağlar, 2009) to find the relevant scale of their field. At times, a study might be about a region of a state, a neighbourhood in a city, a federal union or, indeed, transnational connections between religious groups and their members in several, cities, regions or states. An example of this is Petr Kratochvíl and Tomáš Doležal’s (2015) study of the Catholic Church in Europe and its relations with the European Union, which explores processes of secularisation in contemporary societies, underlining the importance of the difference between institutions and organisations. In a similar vein, John Bowen et al. (2014) stress that an institution (in the sociological sense) might have a ‘relative autonomy’ to the state or other institutions, something to be taken into account by scholars studying it. Institutions like the military, schools or healthcare should not be assumed to have the same relations with a national model or ideology (for example, French laïcité). Further, as with all important issues, there will be a variety of preferred political solutions in every country. Thus, a wide knowledge of overlapping contexts and cognitive maps is important when selecting the right scale of the field.

1.3 Governances of Religion(s)

The politics of religion and migration is often manifested in the governance of religions. Let us first explain the background of this. One of the main concerns of a state is to manage its population and, as it changes due to migration, new challenges are likely to appear. When it comes to religion, these can be met in many ways. States may or may not try to include migrants by acknowledging their religious institutions or practices, while, presumably, there are practices that the state would like migrants to adopt and those that the state encourages, accepts or consciously does not want to impede. Roger Waldinger (2007: 347) addresses this as ‘political resocialisation’, which cleverly moves the conceptualisation away from the integration debate. To enable it to take control of processes of resocialisation, the state will use statistics, legal measures, education, surveillance (see Sect. 4.3.2.2) and policies – often packaged in the frame of projects (e.g., Messner, 2015).

Tuomas Martikainen (2014) has introduced the concept of ‘the project society’ in migration studies – borrowing it from political science – to characterise the administrative type typical of the neo-liberal state. The idea is that organisations (or individual citizens) are encouraged to apply for grants to conduct projects in line with the views of the grant giver instead of receiving continuous support, meaning that religious organisations, including immigrant ones, must adjust to the political opportunity structure of the project society. The economic benefits of landing a project are important for the survival of organisations, as most have a restricted economy, making them partners in projects connected with local democracy, equality and integration. States strategise to take control over processes of resocialisation among immigrants and govern religious organisations, and projects may be covert or overt attempts to achieve this, meanwhile shifting the responsibility for implementation from state authorities to religious organisations.

The state governance of the religious organisations of immigrants, through projects or in other ways, is often challenged by the lack of detailed knowledge about the religious belongings of immigrants. In fact, most European states have legislation that forbids or hinders the registration of its citizens’ religious preferences. Instead, such information is gathered on the basis of self-identification, first added to the UK census in 2001, while Switzerland has conducted a census containing a religion question every ten years since 1850 and Sweden has had its membership statistics since 1975. In the latter case, the statistics do not cover large groups of religiously non-organised migrants. No European state prints the religious identity of its citizens on ID cards any longer, although in the past both Greece (1945–2001) and (Euro-Asian) Turkey (prior to 2016) have done so.

There is, however, another tradition, mainly involving the states of former Eastern Europe, where religion is registered and connected with specific rights. For example, the Romanian state registers its citizens’ religious affiliation if they are prepared to provide it, which all but 6.25 percent (census 2011) have been prepared to do. The Romanian state recognises a number of religions (including Judaism and Islam) and adherents of those faiths have some specified rights according to law (see Sect. 4.2.1), which are not extended to non-citizens.

Clearly, a lack of statistics creates problems for the governance of religions; without this information, it is harder for everyday bureaucracy to plan the budgets and logistics of seemingly simple things like free school lunches: how many kids can be expected to ask for a kosher or halal diet at school? Similarly, not knowing how many adherents there are of different denominations makes it difficult for the authorities to evaluate the relevance of demands for special treatment – regarding prayer facilities, diets, holidays or dress at work, in the army, at school or in prisons – raised by religious activists, parents, pupils, employees, inmates and others. It is especially difficult when demographics change.

We must also be aware (see Sect. 4.1.2), that governance of religion no longer takes place only on a national level or only between state authorities and religious organisations. With reference to Anne Mette Kjær’s Governance (2004), Mel Prideaux and Andrew Dawson (2018) argue that contemporary Western governance of religion is highly dynamic and includes additional institutions, such as non-governmental agencies, private enterprises, majority churches and charitable institutions, and involves various forms of collaboration, consultation and innovation; sensitivity is required to navigate this very complex field.

2 Rights, Obligations and Laws

Legalisation offers a concrete example of the implementation of politics of religion. One may easily get the impression that the laws of European states are simply centred on the rights and obligations of the individual citizen, but the politics of religion often implies collective rights, occasionally particularism, when specific rights are allocated to different groups. It tends to translate into laws that come in three major forms: those acknowledging certain religious groups and assigning them status and rights; those that guarantee the freedom of religion of citizens who choose to act collectively; and those, like blasphemy and anti-discrimination laws, that aim to protect religion or religious groups from being subjected to hatred, scorn and sometimes ridicule.

2.1 Acknowledging Religious Group Rights

Romania and Germany provide two interesting, very different cases of group rights. Romania acknowledges eighteen ‘cults’ including sixteen Christian denominations (Jehovah’s Witnesses since 2008), Jewish communities and Islam, giving them all specific rights laid down in law. A recognised religious cult may receive government grants, calculated on the basis of the number of members, to cover costs related to staff salaries and the maintenance or construction of sanctuaries. Once recognised, it also has the right to establish schools, teach its religion in state schools, promote its faith on radio and TV and broadcast as community radio. Further, religious cults are exempt from taxation. Romania also recognises national religious organisations instituted by the ‘cults’, and their heads, making it one of the few non-Muslim European countries that has a state-employed head of the Muslim community (Muftiatul Cultului Musulman din România). These rights are as extensive as any in Europe, not counting those of state churches, although it has been reported that they are not upheld without friction, and that discrimination against individuals is widespread (e.g., Iordache, 2004).

Germany’s constitution is termed religionsneutral. Still, German law gives specific rights to Körperschaft des öffentlichen Rechts, that is, recognised religious corporations, a status long held by Protestant churches, the Catholic dioceses and the Jewish community. It comes with many rights, with the state administering the collection of ‘church taxes’ or membership fees and allowing the corporations to run nursery schools, hospitals and welfare institutions. In fact, to a large extent the state depends on this; for example, churches run 50 percent of all publicly funded nursery schools. Other religious communities, organising as associations or foundations, do not have the same rights as the recognised corporations.

To make up a recognised religious corporation in the eyes of the law, it must have existed for at least 30 years and most members should be German citizens. Up until 2000, German citizenship laws were built on the principle of ius sanguinis (the right of blood), not ius soli (the rights of soil), that is, citizenship was dependent on people being considered part of the ‘German people’, not on their living in Germany or not. In 2000, Germany began to allow naturalisation under rather ungenerous rules that included the renunciation of former citizenships. Nonetheless, many of the older migrants, considered ‘guest workers’ up until then, met the requirements, which transformed the sizeable Muslim population in Germany from mainly foreigners residing in Germany into Muslim German citizens. Due to this, the first two decades of the twenty-first century have seen tremendous changes. Muslims have been given the rights to teach their religion to Muslim children at schools in most Bundesländer – Germany is a federation allowing for different rules regionally. To meet the demand for new teachers, six German universities have started higher education training in Islamic theology. Thus, a change in the political ideology of citizenship provided the political opportunity structures for migrants with a long presence in Germany to gain certain religious collective rights (e.g., Nielsen & Otterbeck, 2016).

2.2 Freedom of Religion

The second typical trait is freedom of religion legislation, a highly complex legal area flaunting a symbolic proclamation at its centre but entrapped and entangled in a myriad detailed restrictions and rulings, rendering citizens less free than implied by the proclamation. Freedom of religion consists of two aspects: an individual right – freedom to and from religion – and a collective right – the freedom to gather, hold services and be acknowledged as organisations, at times with specific rights as mentioned above. In European states, the religious collective has the right to make (some) collective decisions free of outside domination, but has no legal means to force an individual whom the group may consider ‘belongs’ to the community to participate or belong.

The nuances of freedom of religion differ from one state to another although it is conditional in all European legislation, both national and on an EU level, in that people are not allowed to disturb the peace; moreover, it is subordinate to other laws regarding, for example, the economy, marriage and slaughter. In some cases, religious organisations are given carte blanche to discriminate in workplaces in ways not tolerated from other employers, exemplified by the right to exclude women from certain religious professions. At other times, specific states have laws restricting quotidian religious rites in public that ritualise the body, as discussed above.

Freedom of religion legislation is one of those church-state history infused political ideologies that also create political opportunity structures. Apart from enjoying the freedom to organise crucial for many religious migrants, not least those from discriminated-against minorities, political activity among migrants in this field is often about blasphemy and anti-discrimination.

2.3 Blasphemy and Anti-discrimination Laws

Laws to protect religions or religious people comprise the third typical trait of the politics of religion. In Europe (if counting Russia and Turkey) in 2021, thirteen countries have blasphemy laws, or the equivalent thereof, while if we go back to 2000, we find twenty-one countries with such legislation. Finland, for example, has a blasphemy law, dating from 1922, which defines a blasphemer as someone who ‘publicly blasphemes against God or, for the purpose of offending, publicly defames or desecrates what is otherwise held to be sacred by a church or religious community, as referred to in the Act on the Freedom of Religion (267/1922)’; breaking this law may lead to fines. While rarely used, it was last tested in 2009 in a court case in which the right-wing politician, Jussi Kristian Halla-Aho, was fined 330€ for ‘disturbing worship’ with a blog post linking Muhammed and Islam to paedophilia. The post also slighted Muslim Somali immigrants by connecting them to criminality. Halla-Aho stated the post was ironically modelled on a post making absurd claims about Finns and violence. Later, the ruling was confirmed by the Supreme Court, which increased the fine to 400€.

In Europe in general, it is highly uncommon for any religious group consisting mainly of recent migrants to win a court case involving blasphemy, often because the laws in question are dormant and few politicians or judges want to re-activate them – with the exception of Georgia which is discussing the introduction of a blasphemy law. Another reason is that laws may only protect specific religions and exclude those of migrants, such as the blasphemy law in England and Wales, abolished in 2008, protecting only the Church of England. Thirdly, migrant communities tend initially not to have enough contacts, know-how, influence and finance to enforce the law, even if they have a case. This is changing as migrant communities become settled and established, and there have been a number of– largely unsuccessful – cases in Europe where Muslims have tried to enforce the blasphemy laws.

Thus, the situation in Europe is that blasphemy laws are dormant or repealed, although it may be more correct to argue that they have been replaced with discrimination laws, especially within the EU. While blasphemy laws were disappearing during the first two decades of the 2000s, discrimination laws were being amended, with clauses touching on religious discrimination. This is exemplified by Swedish discrimination legislation where, in the late 1990s, religious belonging was mainly mentioned as a subcategory of ethnicity; due to criticism from the EU, however, in 2008 religion was pronounced one of seven possible grounds for discrimination.

3 Getting to Know Each Other and Areas of Conflicts

Comparing the US and European countries, scholars have continuously come to the same conclusions: being religiously active has a bridging function in the US, while it is more of a barrier in Europe (e.g., Foner & Alba, 2008; Kivisto, 2014). Kivisto points out other factors, not least that the established population in a country views newcomers through preconceived notions about ethnic groups, ‘race’ and religions. On a general level, populations of the various European countries differ considerably in how they value newcomers, and it changes over time. For example, Polish migrants have experienced a stark change for the worse in England and Ireland over the last two decades; Finnish migrants to Sweden have long been exposed to the stereotype of Finns as particularly prone to hard liquor drinking and violence, while the ethnic group that constantly ends up as the least tolerated in attitude surveys across Europe is the Roma people. But at least most Polish, Finish and Roma migrants are Christian and come from within Europe, while migrants from outside Europe espouse religions about which established residents may know little or nothing beyond an unfavourable impression.

Many scholars have made it clear that country-wide, regional and local authorities – founded and generally dominated by the established population – tend to reproduce preconceived ethnic and religious notions about newcomers, especially initially. Below, we address some central themes in the processes whereby authorities and migrants of different religions become acquainted.

3.1 Religion in Public Institutions

Post-WWII immigration has meant that European states have had to handle a more plural religious situation; the former majority church setting can no longer be taken for granted. The religious changes caused by immigration surprised European politicians and others in the receiving countries, who, in one way or another, had internalised the idea of secular states, or even non-religious lives, due to ongoing secularisation processes. For many immigrants, the idea of secular states, including religious freedom laws, have been pull factors for emigration but this does not have to coincide with a wish to live a non-religious life, either privately or in the public sphere. Therefore, politicians were confronted with the question of how to include or restrict immigrants’ religious practices in countries where religion was understood to be vanishing or, at least, only taking place in private spheres. Simultaneously, the majority religion was present in everyday normality, yet somewhat invisible, as is common of the taken-for-granted. The situation has become very complex and instigates constant negotiations of space (e.g., Mattes et al., 2016).

In the following two sections we discuss examples of this private-public crossroads in which negotiations of space have been lively in Europe in recent decades, and present various strategies in the politics of religion used by the state authorities. One focuses on educational systems, the other on health care.

3.1.1 Educational Systems

European countries have had different strategies for teaching in and about Islam in relation to Muslim pupils over time that revolve around the questions of whether schools should affirm religious identity and how to foster tolerant (non-Islamophobic) citizens. These strategies differ ‘from country to country and region to region due to diversity of political systems, histories and cultures, variety in relationships between religion and state, differing educational cultures, and also the heterogeneous nature of Muslim populations’ (Ipgrave et al., 2010: 75).

In the UK, strategies for handling teaching in and about Islam at schools have a long history (e.g., Anwar, 1988). Due to residence patterns among Muslims in the UK (the largest proportion with Pakistani, Bangladeshi and Indian ancestry), inner-city community schools tend to have many Muslim pupils, sometimes a majority. There are also independent Muslim schools and a small proportion of state-maintained Muslim schools, all with a Muslim majority. Julia Ipgrave et al. (2010) demonstrate the different strategies in managing the needs and wishes of these Muslim pupils and their parents, comparing three primary schools, all with a Muslim majority. In the first, an independent Muslim school, teaching is in Islam, which is the starting point and guides the needs of the pupils (all being Muslims). In one of the inner-city schools, the point of departure is secular; religion has little place in school life and is in general seen as something primarily private. In the religious education classes, Islam is not treated any differently from other religions and emphasis is placed on commonalities among them. In the third school – also an inner-city community school but with a higher proportion of Muslim pupils than the former – the strategy towards Islam is complex and not always clear. There are ongoing processes in which the Muslim pupils’ religion is taken into consideration; however, this is done with the help of external Muslim advisers and mediators, changing the power structures in this school. Thus, in a seemingly homogeneous public arena, various strategies for space making can be found (see also Jaffe-Walter, 2013; Rissanen, 2012).

The rooms of silence (or multi-faith prayer rooms) at universities are an interesting arena for space making in educational settings, one scrutinised by Hoeg et al. (2019) at Scandinavian universities in relation to secularisation processes and increasing religious plurality. The study illustrates the different strategies implemented by the universities. The Scandinavian countries have a largely common religious structure (i.e., homogenous; Protestant majority churches have faced scattered religious plurality due to substantial migration only in recent decades), are politically similar (a long history of democracy and monarchies) and have a higher-education sector dominated by state-run universities. Yet reasons for the establishment of rooms of silence at universities and changes in them (including where to place them, who can use them and their furnishing) vary between the three countries. What is most striking is that management of the rooms of silence includes both written policies and agreements and, in many ways more ‘hidden’, tactics by the users, evident in the ways the rooms are decorated and used, with the latter influencing space making as much as formal strategies.

3.1.2 Health Care Systems

The second sphere where the private-public religion dichotomy is clearly at play is the health care sector: those responsible for health care, those who receive health care and those working at health care institutions. The receiving states’ strategies in handling a more religious pluralistic situation in this sector are like those related to the educational system, dependent on country, region, political system, histories and cultures, religion-state relations, differing health care cultures and heterogeneity in religions. If we inspect, for example, the arrangement of rooms of silence (in the health care system often knows as chapels, or worship, prayer or quiet rooms), we find similar processes as mentioned above (e.g., Gilliat-Ray, 2005; Nordin, 2018).

In their study of hospitals in Spain, Julia Martínez-Ariño and Mar Griera (2016) demonstrate how hospital strategies related to religious plurality are caught between formal regulations, processes of democratisation and secularisation, a scientific bio-medical model, historical religious traditions and the patient autonomy model. In Spain, the law states that public hospitals shall secure religious freedom and provide onsite possibilities for religious practices; however, there are no national regulations or policies guiding how this should be done. This has led to pragmatic case-by-case solutions in which the Catholic Church, due to its majority, historical position and recourse access, can more easily, but not without resistance from the health care promotors, provide religious care at hospitals. The situation for religious minorities, with less time in the country and fewer resources, is more difficult and still developing, although one common route to their inclusion is with the help of hospital employees and, in some cases, the Catholic Church. Martínez-Ariño and Griera conclude that in hospitals in Spain ‘there is no straightforward institutional response to religious diversity, but rather complex and non-linear processes of adjustment’ (p. 39).

3.2 Conflict Areas and (Desired) Social Cohesion

States are aware of possible and actual tensions between the established population and the migrants of new religions, or between migrants of different religions; a part of governance is to try to manage such situations. Below we pursue three themes in which these tensions become clear: antisemitism and Islamophobia; securitisation and radicalisation; and interfaith initiatives. It is common for states to act in concert with civil society organisations to reduce tension or to mitigate what are seen as risks.

3.2.1 Antisemitism and Islamophobia

Most European states, if not all their political parties, pursue social cohesion as a goal. They attempt to educate their populations on antisemitism and Islamophobia through exhibitions, printed material, sponsored research and the curricula at schools and universities. At times, states reach out to Jewish and Muslim groups, involving them in projects, dialogues (see Sect. 4.3.2.3) or police protection programmes.

However, the antisemitism and Islamophobia of European states run deep and are part of the history of mainline churches, politics, colonialism, racism, university research and educations. It is impossible in the space here to engage with the history; instead, we discuss the political discourse, legal frameworks and attempts to control antisemitism and Islamophobia in society. Evidently, other prejudices can affect religious migrants. This includes Christophobia, mainly targeting non-established or minority forms of Christianity, and different forms of positive or negative exoticizing discourses on Hinduism or Buddhism.

It is common to see antisemitism and Islamophobia as racism, and, indeed, historian George Fredrickson (2002: 33) traces the background of racism to Christian conquest of the Iberian Peninsula in the fifteenth century and the ensuing Spanish discourse on the ‘purity of blood’ which could be tainted by neither Jews nor Muslims. Still, while assumed ‘races’ have no real content, religions have. Admittedly, religious discourse is contradictory in its vast plurality, but there is content, and antisemitism and Islamophobia often target alleged content. This dimension should be researched. Obviously, some forms of antisemitism and Islamophobia comprise discrimination along the same lines as general racism.

The Holocaust and the moral positioning of working against antisemitism provide a moral compass regarding the limits of tolerance in a great deal of state-driven political discourse (e.g., Romeyn, 2014). Yet antisemitism is prevalent in the far right and frequent accusations of antisemitism are directed towards the left, which tends to deny such allegations. However, when it comes to Islamophobia, political conversations across Europe feature rather mainstream parties that readily admit to seeing Muslims as uniquely problematic people and Islam as a dangerous political ideology. A study of Swedish political discourse (Cato, 2012) demonstrates that there was a turn in 1989 (caused by the Rushdie Affair) when the first speech in the Swedish parliament mentioning Muslims as belonging to a different (less valued) civilisation was made; previously, Muslims had only been mentioned in contexts where religious identity was relevant, such as when discussing religion in education. Since then, discourse has oscillated between understanding and tolerance, and rejection and fearmongering, culminating in the political discourse of the Sweden Democrats – part of the new populist, nationalist trend in European politics – and their breakthrough in 2010 as one of the larger parties.

Differences in the attitudes of European states to antisemitism and Islamophobia can, as already noted, be observed in legal frameworks. While antisemitism may be specifically regulated by law (e.g., by criminalising any denial of the Holocaust, the course followed by sixteen European countries), Islamophobia is generally regulated by discrimination laws. Commonly, both are ‘hate crimes’ that may be considered to aggravate circumstances. In all European countries it is within the rights of the citizen to criticise religions, but less acceptable to criticise their adherents collectively (see Sect. 4.2.3).

3.2.2 Securitisation as a Response to (Perceived) Radicalisation

Radicalisation is a word increasingly used from the early twenty-first century and is defined by the UK Home Office (2011) as, ‘The process by which people come to support terrorism and violent extremism and, in some cases, then join terrorist groups.’ Securitisation is the political discourse on how to govern radicalised people, mainly by monitoring alleged extremists and preventing extremism from growing through surveillance. At best, such securitisation hinders acts of terror and, at worst, creates fear and hatred of the surveying authorities among those deemed potential risks. However, programmes like the UK’s PREVENT tend to do both and much more.

PREVENT was introduced in 2003 as part of CONTEST, a British counter-terrorism strategy, and was made public in 2006. It is one of several similar programmes developed in the EU, albeit one of the most far-reaching. Intentionally or not, the UK government has created a feeling of being monitored among Muslim migrants and UK Muslims at large. The failure to separate between conservative Islam and political interests informed by Islam or religious belonging on the one hand, and radicalisation leading to security threats on the other, were acknowledged in an evaluation ordered by the government and published in 2011 (PREVENT Strategy, 2011). Securitisation has given rise to vulnerability narratives among UK Muslims, that is, narratives about being exposed, monitored, made suspicious and unfairly treated simply for being Muslim. PREVENT is an ongoing programme fighting an uphill battle to get Muslim organisations to collaborate, mostly due to its insensitive launching (e.g., Cole, 2009; Enayat, 2020).

Still, it is very likely that fresh acts of terror will be committed on European soil by people who self-identify as Muslims and are motivated by global ideologies connected to Islamic political groups, accompanied by the presence of troops from European countries in conflicts where such groups are involved. And, as any government would want to prevent violent acts as far as possible, Muslim migrants are particularly targeted as possible security threats and questioned and put under surveillance. This situation has been critically assessed by a number of researchers (e.g., Rosenow-Williams, 2014; Goli & Rezaei, 2011), who have presented a balanced criticism of state securitisation.

It must also be pointed out that many Muslim communities work hard against radicalisation, at times in cooperation with government initiatives and the police. Mosque activists frequently describe confronting radical preachers and other militants trying to propagate in mosques or even take them over. It must equally be acknowledged that some Muslim organisations have been naïve in their dualist preaching of good and evil, polarising themselves and the West or the majority society in which they live, while failing to see the possible effects on adherents. Finally, some have actually recruited and trained adherents to turn to political violence (e.g., Inge, 2017; Nesser, 2015). Researchers will have to be sensitive to the possibility of overlapping motives, discrimination, politically disciplinary mechanisms, racism and so much more in this sensitive field. They will also have to reflect ethically on their own role and social position in relation to the state and the surveyed.

Part of the governance of religion involves trying to steer adherence away from unwanted religious expressions through interfaith dialogue initiated both by states and religious groups, to which we now turn.

3.2.3 Interfaith Groups

It is important to consider the interfaith sector when attempting to understand areas of potential conflict and the complex relations between state strategies and individual or group tactics in the politics of religion. This is particularly significant when it comes to the public governance of interfaith groups. In western Europe, there has been a significant growth of various interfaith initiatives during recent decades, the premises of which are mostly shaped by immigration and the ensuing religious plurality. Religious organisations are not solely responsible for initiating and upholding such programmes; rather, it is the public sector –municipalities and governments – which has to a large degree encouraged interfaith groups to govern religious plurality by fostering inclusion and social cohesion. However, we should keep in mind the various strategies on different levels involved in these processes and also that the outcome is not always inclusive (e.g., Nordin, 2020, 2017; Galal Paulsen et al., 2018; Griera & Nagel, 2018; Klinkhammer et al., 2011).

This complexity can be seen in a qualitative study based on research of the governance of state-interfaith groups in two parts of Germany: Hamburg and the Rhine-Ruhr metropolitan area (Körs & Nagel, 2018),Footnote 1 which have a high degree of religious plurality due to immigration. However, Körs and Nagel demonstrate both difference and similarities in strategies, and partly tactics, in the negotiation of religious space when it comes to interfaith groups. While governance of interfaith is a growing phenomenon in the two regions, it varies and is closely connected to context. Yet a common feature was the importance of the established churches in the governance of the groups. Having the resources, and in a way being extensions of the state or having ‘quasi-state agency’ (p. 357), the established churches had the ability to initiate and support these groups, which gave them influence but also enabled the other religions represented in the groups to gain leverage in relation to the state; ‘the structural asymmetry turned into a strategic partnership’ (p. 357). A final common pattern was the selection of religions to include in these state-interfaith groups: the focus was often on ‘world religions’. This meant that some religions had no chance of being included and also that religions with (very) few members (e.g., Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism) had the same number of representatives in the groups as religious groups with many members (e.g., Islam). A further problem is that both Islam and Christianity contain numerous different groups, some that cooperate easily and some that would not be caught dead in the same room, a characteristic that is, to a certain extent, true of all religions (apart from a few new ones). It is always interesting when research uncovers who is included, who is excluded and why.

4 Concluding Remarks

The four theories that feature in Fetzer and Soper’s work represent the processes engaged in by immigrant religious groups and the host states. Unlike Fetzer and Soper, we would like to note the important work of many religious immigrant activists in the formation of state politics; however, it would be naïve to stipulate an a priori influence because of their engagement. On the contrary, an important part of research is to demonstrate the facts on the ground by thorough empirical study. That involves considering this kind of activism as it has the potential to change and challenge invisible normalities, although it is often the crushing power of states that decides the way forward.