Notes on the Political Ecologies of the Far Right Conference 2024

I have just returned from the second instalment of the PEFR conference. I was there to present a paper on left-to-far-right transitions, and to run a zine making workshop with Miranda Iossifidis from Newcastle University. Two colleagues from Media, Samuel Nicholes and Bernhard Forchtner, were also presenting. I already had a telling encounter on the way to the conference when I ran into a market research person, a nice middle aged blonde lady, who turned out to be a fan of racist author Douglas Murray.

Like last time, PEFR (sometimes mistakenly abbreviated as ‘PERF’) took part in a Swedish city – this time in Uppsala. It was nice to trudge through piles of snow and then enter well insulated buildings, which I wish we had in the UK. The conference atmosphere was quite informal and included evening entertainment (there was even a pub quiz that highlighted the absurdity of far-right symbolism around the world!). Attendees came from a variety of backgrounds, including academia, government/policy, journalism and NGOs. Some academics who presented did not actually work on the topic but presented on their activism. In a commitment to environmentalism, many had travelled long distances by train and been delayed by strikes and other issues on the line with some participants experiencing journeys of 20+ hours that normally take half as long. I was also pretty wired from lack of sleep, though mainly due to noisy hotel room neighbours.

Despite the sleep deprivation, I learned a lot during this conference – not just about topics but also about past and present institutional landscapes that deal with the far right and the environment. There were people from the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation who offered free books on related subjects, such as homonationalism or climate change. There was FARN, a German government funded NGO against radicalisation in conservationism. Out of curiosity, I attended one of their workshops. It was about völkisch moments that are heavily present in the region that I’m originally from, and their continuation of historic links between organic farming and esotericism (they also ran a second workshop on methods against radicalisation). I learned that young Germans can now do a voluntary ‘ecological year’ instead of the previous military service or social year. One of the presenters had done such an ecological year and ended up with a problematic organic farming organisation whose ethos turned out to have been built on far right ideology. When checking out their website, I found that they also have student dissertations on the subject for download, which I have to show my undergratuates.

This cross institutional countering of the far right became the subject of a panel, which examined the challenges of researching the far right from different positions such as journalism, academia and government. As someone who grew up with a father who was researching the far right from a police perspective, I was familiar with the hostility that researchers encountered (my family underwent periods of police protection). I was less familiar with the many ‘grey areas’ that people had to negotiate, for example, in policy. How do you block or diffuse the influence of individuals, lobby groups, political parties or even far right governments? What happens to antifascist government foundations when the far right is in power? This was illustrated in other panels as well, from local politicians having to judge far right entries in organic farming competitions to creating ‘Trojan horses’ to sneak left wing ideas into right wing policy.

My favourite zine from the workshop, brought to my attention by Miranda Iossifidis (thank you!)

Over the three days, I picked up on some themes that ran across the sessions I attended. One could be described as a far right image change: a PR move that seeks to contradict the perception of the far right as unfeeling, aggressive perpetrators by showing them as empathic, loving, misunderstood victims. Powerpoint slides were littered with images of far right people (usually young men) with cute animals, plants, rainbow flags. This trend appeared in many different countries, including Germany, the US and South Africa. Gender identity and gender relations were also the focus of a psychoanalytic session which heavily drew on the work of Klaus Theweleit with some insightful expansions. One question that was raised in this context was that of ‘grooming’ of young people by older members of the far right. A paper on the Danish ‘Feuerkrieg Division’ showed that young people, predominately young men, can sometimes end up in far right circles simply through peer pressure, and through boredom and lack of perspective. Here, lockdown emerged as an exacerbating factor. This led to another question: ‘What happens when fascists grow up?’

Another focus was left/far right overlaps. Despite my own focus on left-to-far right transitions, I was surprised at some of the left and decolonial appropriations. One striking example was on the French far right’s appropriation of the ‘pluriverse’, normally a decolonial concept, to argue for their own indigeneity and its protection amongst other indigenous groups (great paper by Swetlana von Hindte). The paper was part of a panel on far right arguments for degrowth, which predictably leaned on anti-globalisation sentiments. This rhetoric also showed in various examples of British environmentalism, from Extinction Rebellion groups (‘Sink the boats, save the world’) to ‘Anglofuturists’. Presenter Ada Barbour illustrated this trend with an alarming number of examples that made environmentalism synonymous with opposition to ‘mass migration’.

Extinction Rebellion counter commentary to accusations of racism. Image: Wiktor Szymanowicz / Barcroft Media / Getty.

The most difficult ‘theme’ for me to experience was the tension between antifascist and antiracist approaches. As Jonathan Olsen stressed in his opening keynote, research on ecologies of the far right is heavily influenced by the discourse on Nazi Germany/post-Nazi Germany. While this focus is slowly shifting to other geographical areas and genealogies, this origin still very much shapes the analytical tools of the field as well as the geographical origin of the majority of participants. As someone who normally presents in the context of the UK antiracist discourse, the difference in attendees as well as the non-comprehension of many postcolonial, decolonial or critical race theory concepts was pretty stark. It was also something that I raised during the conference on multiple occasions, because this tension led to absolute gridlocks, intensified by the Gaza conflict.

It was not the case that postcolonial concepts were absent. A few antifascist researchers of colour were present, including German ones, and the programme also included papers in which colonialism was central. These included papers from the appropriation of anti-racist and decolonial concepts (e.g. ‘post-development’, ‘pluriverse’, Black Lives Matter) to the ‘saffronisation’ of green energy in India. Further, given the many far right claims to indigeneity, it could be assumed that antifascist researchers would have familiarised themselves with literature on the topic, especially by Indigenous researchers. That this is not the case became apparent during the keynote by Ina Knobblock, a Sami feminist scholar. Three times during the Q&A attendees asked her to distance herself from ‘blood and soil’ ideology. It was very evident that this was something that Knobblock was used to being asked, and visibly tired of being asked. The fact that the question was repeated twice was worrying both in its struggle to contextualise European Indigenous ideas and struggle (forced relocations and residential schools also happened in Europe!) and in its lack of familiarity, by an apparently antiracist audience, with the decolonial discourse overall.

The situation got even worse with the ‘Gaza incident’. It began with one attendee trying to force a statement from Knobblock on the settler colonial situation in Palestine, which was promptly countered by a German participant who insisted that ‘Israel is 100% not a settler colonial state’. This second interaction was problematic in two ways: 1) the initial demand essentially hijacked the speaker’s talk, while assuming generic expertise on all Indigenous issues; 2) the response by the German participant was offensive to many in the audience, especially the few Muslims. This hijacking put others into the position of either speaking up move further away from Knobblock’s concern, or entrenching the trauma for those offended by maintaining silence.

What this incident painfully brought to light was not only the need to address the elephant in the room (Palestine/Israel) but also the blindspots of antifascist researchers. By request of several participants, it led to the spontaneous creation of a workshop, which was timetabled for the following afternoon. While I had also called for a space for discussion, I was apprehensive about a conference workshop, given the strong white German presence at the conference. The German government, media and social media commentary continues to be distressing, with many activists siding with the government line, unlike here in the UK. While I empathise with the fact that German responsibility for the Holocaust needs to inform not just government reactions, but academic reactions, the utter disregard for the colonial and also German nationalist history of Israel (referenced towards the end of this video by David Graeber) is shocking. This blindspot even affects critical Jewish/Israeli voices. Another reason for apprehension was the absence of papers on the Israeli ecocide in the occupied territories at the conference. I first put this down to the fact that researchers working on this topic must feel more comfortable in the postcolonial/decolonial/critical race theory context, but it turned out that there was indeed an accepted paper. The speaker was however not granted a visa by the (far right) Swedish government. In the meantime, the speaker had also lost their entire family in the conflict.

This was the situation in which the workshop took place. Around thirty people arrived at the room, so the group was split in two to enable a less busy discussion. There were two facilitated discussions rounds, one which centred on feelings regarding the topic, and one which focused on analysis. In our group, this did not work particularly well, partly because people were critical of the method (why does anyone need to hear more white people’s feelings?) and partly, because one the aforementioned gridlock. Without going too much into the details, the dynamics felt a lot like a microcosm of the geopolitical situation. Being both German and British, with some Jewish family on my dad’s side, I tried to negotiate between positions, but it did not work. This split was noticeable in other conversations on this topic outside of the workshop. It tended to leave many non-German stunned by a position that maintained that Israel could not be anything but uniformly good. Even though there was empathy for the position that moving even an inch from this position would result in the repetition of the Holocaust, it felt like an intellectual and empathetic failure in face of Israel’s long-term record of atrocities. In fact, Palestinians kept being compared to Nazis who launch pogroms on the Israeli population.

Images: Examples of Jewish organisations who are critical of the Israeli government’s actions in Palestine.

What was even more disturbing was the apparent inability to support the pro-Israel opinion through an academic argument – there was mostly repetition of German antifascist mantras, currently also repeated by the German government. As one participant put it: ‘most people in the West disagree with their governments on this – why not Germans?’ Ironically, this happened in the same breath as denouncing criticisms ‘non-academic’. It was rather harrowing to witness the shock of the German activists who genuinely believed that everyone else had gone over to the dark side, while everyone else believed that Germans were in the process of supporting another genocide. Aside from the refusal to discuss Israel’s links with the British colonial project, there was no acknowledgement of the fact that many far right groups in the UK and Germany are waving and posting Israeli flags. In our workshop, British participants explained that the far right do so not because the far right loves Jewish people, but that either want Jewish people to stay in their own country or support their erasure of Muslim lives. Again, this was seen as equating Israeli with the far right. Likewise, there was no acknowledgment of Jewish protestors experiencing German police violence and other forms of censorship. In fact, this was countered by the claim that there are now ‘no go areas’ for Jewish people in Germany since the conflict. The style of arguing felt more like a psychosis, which is understandable given the apparent collapse of the German antifascist model. All your life you have been trained to make sharp boundaries between good and bad, and now all the usual parameters are under siege.

The reality is that they have been contested for a long time by many Germans of colour, including Jewish voices, but things kept being ignored. This ostrich mode is now just taking on a more surreal form. The sad thing is that denying the very obvious genocidal intent of a far right government is not going to help with the antisemitism problem. It gives the impression that any antiracist action for the left is hypocritical and, like the far right, values one group of people over another. There are killable populations and the left and the far right happen to currently agree on who that is. Needless to say, this tactic can make the situation worse for a lot of Jewish people, including Israelis. It also neglects the fact that violence tends to provoke further violence. As gruesome as the attack on the music festival was, and the hostage situation continues to be, the violence did not come from nowhere. Also, what if geopolitical constellations change?

Despite this unsettling experience, I remain hopeful. There were a few young, quiet Germans who just listened and occasionally nodded when decolonial arguments were made (the German genocides in Namibia were mentioned, for example). I was later approached by attendees, including German attendees, to further explain my position. I appreciated the questions and learned a lot through them. One person said they were not quite clear on the difference between, as they termed it, ‘Antifa versus Antira’. In the final panel of the conference, on the future of the PEFR network, I again raised the issue for further discussion, perhaps in the form of a panel session and a reading list, at the next conference. What definitely needs to happen is to make antifascist spaces safer spaces for BIPOC antifascists. The conference showed that white antifascists need to eduate themselves more about the debates in the wider antiracist discourse, to not end up acting like racists themselves. If racialised people get retraumatised at supposedly anti-racist conferences, this will remain a ‘whites only’ space. As one Muslim participant put it: ‘when I walked into the room, I felt like I was at a conference in the 1940s’. I know that many white antifascists see it as their job to take antiracist work off BIPOCs, but this can become a patronising strategy. If we start from the premise that nothing comes from a bad place, I have some hope that some things can improve. The conference was a reminder that a lot of work still needs to be done, not just in relation to far right groups, but within our own community.

The ‘orderly racism’ of Master Gardener

Maya (Quintessa Swindell) and Narvel (Joel Edgerton) visiting a public garden while discussing settler botanist John Bartram and Narvel’s own racist past.

I was not going to watch Master Gardener, because the trailer made it look like a boring action film. But then I wondered whether it might be interesting in relation with my research on ecofascism. In this aspect, the film did not disappoint. When I looked up the film reviews afterwards, critics did not touch on this theme at all. Instead they accused director Paul Schrader of three things: being a ‘one-trick pony’ (focusing on the redemption of troubled men for the last 50 years), using an unrealistic storyline, and off-screen ranting against ‘wokeness’. The film was considered schematic and untimely. I had not watched anything by the director, apart from American Gigolo (1980) many years ago, so I cannot comment on the patterns, but I felt that some of the social observations expressed in Master Gardener were more sharp and subtle than a lot of other well-intentioned white attempts to address racism. Here, I disagree with many critics that the material was in the wrong hands. I also do not agree that the film was boring, or that it had a slow pace (I really needed to go to the toilet during the film, and it was difficult to find a moment where I felt I wouldn’t miss out on an essential part of the film). Rather, it feels as if Schrader addresses some of the power dynamics to which he seems to be oblivious in real life.

Master Gardener is part of a trilogy, together with First Reformed (2017) and The Card Counter (2021), that Schrader describes as ‘men writing a diary’. Like First Reformed, the film takes on the ecology-society relation, though in a different way. Where First Reformed is about a priest who realises that religious organisations have a hand in destroying the planet, Master Gardener is a story about the desire for order, and how ideas about order underly toxic social structures such as racism, sexism, queerphobia etc. The director was apparently inspired by a gardening programme that made him realise that ‘most people think of gardening as life-enhancing, nourishing, beauty-enhancing, but it’s also full of violence – cutting, pruning, weeding, deadheading … Gardening is a kind of eugenics’ (Another Mag). The film starts with the phrase ‘gardening is a belief in the future – a belief that things will unfold according to plan’. This phrase hit me rather hard, given that a close friend – a devoted gardener – had taken his own life the weekend before. The phrase rang untrue, and I felt that the voice of the main character carried a heaviness. He seemed to utter the sentence like a mantra, as if he needed to hold on to this belief.

Image: Narvel writing his diary, reflecting mostly on gardening, but increasingly on interpersonal dynamics. There is a later scene where he writes in front of a mirror with his shirt off, his Nazi tattoos becoming visible to Maya.

The setting of the garden is a mansion, owned by the wealthy Norma (Sigourney Weaver). Its style implies that it is a former plantation (the film was shot at Rosedown and Greenwood Plantations). Norma has servants who take care of her, and gardeneres who take care of her formal garden which also functions as a venue for gardening shows. The garden, despite the cameraderie amongst the staff and mundane routines through which it is tended, feels like an uncomfortable environment. The imposition of geometric forms on plant life seems to echo the on-going attachment to inherited slave owner wealth, aesthetics and related power dynamics. The gardener in charge is Narvel Roth (Joel Edgerton), who is introduced as an earnest man who fills his diary with philosophical thoughts about human-nature relations. It is later revealed that he is a former neo-Nazi who went undercover as part of a witness protection programme. The film documents his evolving relation with nature, possibly guided by Norma’s tutelage (they are also lovers). While still a neo-Nazi, Narvel was no stranger to gardening philosophies, believing his group leader that the far right are like a gardeners who ‘pull out the weeds’. In the present, he tries to combine his identification with the ordering drive of European natural history with a holistic narrative about healing. In one scene, for example, he gets his apprentices to smell the soil to connect to the ‘mineral, animal, vegetal’; in another, he mourns that people only connect to the soil with soles and not skin. His commentary hovers between the imagery of ‘blood and soil’ and a transcendence of this attitude, showing the uncomfortable closeness of ideas. It reflects the creepy comfort of racism, through its illusion of tending an otherwise disorientated nature. Narvel’s new routine is disrupted by the arrival of Maya (Quintessa Swindell), Norma’s ‘troubled’ mixed-race grand-niece, who was invited by Norma to start a paid gardening apprenticeship.

On the surface, the plot and some of the stylistic tools feel overly didactic and two-dimensional: the rich woman having an affair with her edgy gardener; rich people performing transactional forms of relation; the ‘expulsion from paradise’ theme; the black relative being a drug addict whom a white woman wants to ‘civilise’; two-dimensional drug dealers and ‘hood’ representations; the drug withdrawal mentorship; the racist being redeemed though his acceptance by and affection for a black woman. These tropes are indeed dumb and outdated, if they were to be realistic. On a metaphorical level, and in combination, they make a lot more sense.

Image: Norma raging at Narvel (note the wallpaper and shirt patterns)

Apart from the soil theme, there are two other images in the film that I appreciated. The first one is the easy-but-uneasy ‘return to the garden’. After suspecting an attraction between Maya and Narvel, the jealous Norma kicks both of them out. Within the same day, the two of them end up on a road trip dealing with both Maya’s and Narvel’s demons (Maya’s addiction and violent home environment; Narvel’s racist/murderous past). After a tense resolution, they return as a couple, but find the garden vandalised by Maya’s former drug dealers. Narvel makes an offer to Norma to get the garden back up for the following year (‘Plants rejuvenate – that’s what they do.’), but under the condition that him and Maya get to stay on the premises as a married couple. Norma grudgingly agrees, and the closing scene shows Maya and Narvel slowly dancing on the porch of Narvel’s former cabin. The image could be interpreted as a ‘return to paradise’, but it actually feels more like a return to another oppressive space, especially with the marriage (= property relation) and cabin imagery thrown in, and the spatial limitations of their dance. Since the ‘outside world’ is portrayed as an even more hostile environment (racism, drugs, dubious policing), married life in the garden perhaps becomes an opportunity, a space where at least some control can be exerted on a hostile environment. There seems no point making an intervention in the world beyond – it seems impossible to succeed against such entrenched dynamics, so the aspiration can only ever be partial containment. The garden thus becomes Maya’s and Narvel’s safe space, without ever having been a safe space for people like Maya (whose dad is African) or even Narvel (by association with Maya) in the past – or without ever truly becoming one in the present (it is more like a contained microcosm of the outside world). The outside world will always crash in, as will natural hazards. As another gardener counters Narvel’s determinist view on ordering: ‘you cannot spreadsheet nature – it will always surprise you’. This is not just in the good sense – Narvel’s transformation against all odds – but also in a portending sense. Here, the film is not actually an optimistic redemption story, as it has been frequently read. The kitsch ‘redemption moment’ – a magical realist rupture featuring flowers blooming in the night – feels far too satirical for that.

Even Maya’s and Narvel’s relationship feels uncomfortable despite the apparent mutual healing. For me, this is not for obvious reasons such as age difference, race or ‘Lolita’ complex (Narvel has a daughter he can never meet again who could be close to Maya’s age), but for the fact that Maya interacts with Narvel in very much the same way as her great-aunt (intimate scenes with both Norma and Maya carry resonances of slave markets, with the abject Narvel being the one inspected). This leads me to the second image, which I find even more powerful: the intersection of race, racism and class, represented in the Norma-Maya-Narvel triangle. Not only does Maya represent a class ambiguity for many (her mum is considered ‘fallen’ upper class, because of her drug addiction; her dad is not considered upper class, solely because he is Black), but she deliberately performs these ambiguities with different people (e.g. passing for upper class to get drugs to wealthy clients, passing as poor in a poor neighbourhood, though ultimately breaking with this environment at the end). Class also matters in the racism performed by Narvel and by Norma. While Narvel and his friends are the obvious racists or ex-racists, the wealthy or middle class white people in the film make ‘acceptable’ racist assumptions, and continue to uphold and benefit from racist infrastructure. As in real life, everyone’s eyes are on the raging people of the Capitol Riot, but not on the colonial paintings that surrounded them in the building – the acceptable racism of official genocide. Even when media commentary focuses on the Black and Latino workers who cleaned up the mess, the fact that the structure itself is infused with racism, and thus enabling the comfort of Nazis within the structure, is carefully ignored. In the film, this quiet racism is also represented through visual details: the jellyfish wallpaper on Norma’s mansion walls that echo the drawings of German eugenicist naturalist Ernst Haeckel, Norma’s shirt pattern depicting sailing ropes and anchor prints.

If one looks back at the anti-woke comments by the director, one might also wonder about a potential commentary on white Americans feeling disenfranchised by a rising Black middle/upper class that has a growing influence on US and global culture. In the past, such anxieties have led to horrific events such as the Tulsa Race Massacre in 1921. At the 100th anniversary commemorations of the event, speakers drew troubling parallels with the present. In the film, it is not just Narvel’s past self that felt threatened, but also Norma. Although she wants Maya to inherit the estate, to keep it in the family, she wants this to happen under very specific conditions. Once this does not work out, Norma abandons the plan. This image seems to reflect the author’s own reactions about potential disenfranchisement by ‘political correctness’. There is another scene the dubious witness protection officer working with Narvel appears wearing a ‘We should all be feminists’ shirt, which could be seen as a more obvious jab. This contrasts with the more subtle analysis in the film. Although expressed through clichés, it queers these to ultimately arrive at an uneasy parable. Here, the director might be the one seeking redemption himself.

Notes from the “Political Ecologies of the Far Right” Conference

This weekend, I attended the “Political Ecologies of the Far Right” conference at Lund University. I was very excited to be in Sweden for the first time (I visited both Lund and Malmö), and to meet people who were working on the increasingly explicit fascist tendencies all over the world. One of my reasons for attending was a concern about the increasing normalisation of far right narratives in the UK, especially in creative circles that considered themselves on the left. Ecology features largely in many creative projects, and with the current environmental and political crisis, people have turned to some quite disconcerting ideas. This is also evident in conversations with colleagues and PhD student who I have met at conferences, and who seem not to notice that some of the materials which they are enthusiastically embracing, contain some rather problematic statements and theoretical lineages. This was also what I presented on.

Given my concern, the conference was interesting in its occasional replication of this pattern. Teaching on a module on histories and philosophies of Geography especially (with my colleague Matt Tillotson), it was in fact quite worrying how many speakers seemed to divorce their topic from their theory. By this I mean: 1) basing their analyses on theories that are normally associated with environmental determinism and fascism (e.g. Heidegger, Conrad, Schmitt, Malthus, Parenti), without commenting on this type of theory as a basis, and 2) grotesquely emptying out concepts such as intersectionality of their political remit (e.g. by ignoring race, gender etc). This could not be put down to the lack of experience of the speakers – they were relatively senior academics. Colleagues who attended other sessions also reported on the replication of issues such as male presenters’ longing for a heteronormative fantasy land (along the lines of “women – be nicer to men, or else men will turn to fascism”).

Overall, the conference was quite an interesting mix. It was very obviously lovingly organised by a committee made up of different groups. We were warned that things might not run as smoothly, because they did not expect this many people to work on the topic, and to be able to come. Although there were some organisational hiccups, I did not experience these as unpleasant. The conference dinner and after-party at Smälands, the ‘misfit’ fraternity of Lund University was a great way of getting a sense of the local university and activist landscape. We admired that they even had their own branded beer! There was also a permanent Antifa stall that had free stickers, Swedish confectionery and, most importantly, Club Mate bottles. One thing I am not so sure about is the integration of a large number of Skype presentations. More than half of the Skype speakers did not show up, so entire sessions had to be cancelled or moved, and sometimes there was just one in-person speaker on the panel, making conversation between panellists impossible. I know that many speakers chose Skype presentations due to environmental impact, but it did severely hinder communication. Having said that, I really enjoyed a virtual performance lecture by Jade Montserrat on Blackness and British rural spaces.


Image: still from Jade Montserrat’s performance lecture “Hyper-belongings: A sense of place”

There were several parallel streams outside of the keynotes. This makes it difficult to describe an overall picture of the discourse, as I can only report back on the sessions that I attended. What I took away from the conference was, first of all, a great diversity of approaches and opinions, in terms of what people understand as anti-fascism (people were much clearer on what constitutes fascism). People had clashing opinions on race and environmentalism; on how some seemingly disparate groups overlap, and over which concerns; or on who should do what kind of labour and with whom. I have tried to summaries these issues at the end of the post.


Mathias Wåg presenting on the Swedish far right

Despite the disagreements – at least in most cases – quite a few presenters and audience members continued discussions afterwards – sometimes the next day or the day after, after some thinking and cooling off. It felt like people learned a lot from each other, including myself: about their blind spots, about something they had not been familiar with, or about other peoples distress that they had not taken into consideration. In fact, there were many moments were people discovered shocking facts about institutions, people, theories or businesses they had come to perceive as neutral or beneficial.


“I cover up Nazi propaganda”

I will now try to pull together some themes that I picked up at the conference. You may also want to check out the #pefr2019 hashtag on Twitter for spontaneous reflections and a greater diversity of voices.

1) Appropriations of left and even decolonial terminology by the far right. Not only does environmentalism have both left and right wing roots, but its present is also shaped by these influences. There are neo-Nazi organic farmers, vegans and conservation activists, as well as anti-capitalism activists. Journalist and activist Mathias Wåg specifically singled out the appropriation of the term ‘activist’ by the far right. In a different presentation, Kai Bosworth argued that left and right are united by a ‘Romantic anti-capitalism’. In addition, the far right continues to make claims to White indigeneity, and even makes alliances with some indigenous leaders – or at least communicates with them about tactics. Here also a special note to senior (male and female) academics: do not use arguments about the ‘coloniality’ or ‘heteronormativity’ of gender and sexual relations to hit on precariously employed or unemployed junior academics/PhD students.

2) Anti-fascism, environmentalism and race: Following on from the point above, presenters pointed out how far right environmentalism isn’t an aberration, but continues existing White environmentalist ideals. This was especially apparent in former colonies such as NZ and the US where progressive interventions were resisted that would have endangered the colonial feel (e.g. through vegetation) of a place, or would have opened environmentalism to people of colour. There was heated debate around extinction rebellion: do accusations of Whiteness help UK environmentalism do some much needed work, or do these accusations obscure the work of environmentalists of colour?

3) The normalisation of fascism: This was a very significant concern. From many presentation it was evident how far right thinking is evident in anything from corporate social responsibility to UN Sustainable Development Goals. Presenters marked on its uncanny relationship with neoliberalism and its language. As much as public institutions were seen as under attack, they were often also seen as key culprits of using and communication far right ideas (e.g. hostile environment, Prevent in the UK; banning of protests or anti-fascist organisations in US). In addition, there were concerns about creatives and academics and their lack of criticality regarding fascist and colonial rhethoric (the Dark Mountain manifesto was named as an example several times, as were recent films such as Arcadia).

4) Fascism and capitalism intersections: In addition to the above issues around state institutions, the reliance of capitalism on the nation state was also noted, and the use of myth to keep up with treats to both the nation and capitalism. The ideology of capitalism itself was linked to fascist Social Darwinist ideas, including the reliance on war and inequality as a means to strengthen its hold. Again, due to capitalism’s normalisation and pervasiveness, it is difficult to attack. Further, several presenters showed financial links between fascist groups, and wealthy individual and corporate donors. Another thing that was mentioned was the fact that fascism can be both capitalist and anti-capitalist at the same time, whether genuinely or disingenuously so.

5) The Global nature of fascism: people presented case studies from all over the world, whether it was the UK, Brazil, Romania, Hungary, Poland, Germany, India, Pakistan, US, Sweden, Denmark, Estonia China etc. Everywhere, the far right is growing stronger. While presenters also gave hopeful examples or counter-action, the sheer statistics felt rather apocalyptic. Again, links to capitalism were made, and its ways of protecting itself. People also wondered how fascists were interlinked internationally.

6) How to organise: here, it was important that there was a large contingent of activists present, including break out meetings with activist groups. The obvious resources were labour activism (even the UCU strikes were mentioned), but other resources, especially directed at academics, were mentioned. Anti-fascist activist and journalist Mathias Wåg, for example, called for academics to work more closely with journalists – sharing data as well as ways to communicate better to a larger audience.

Apparently, there will be a follow-up conference in about two years time. Keep an eye out for updates!

CFP: Political Ecologies of the Far Right, Lund University

Call for Contributions

Lund University, 15-17 November 2019

www.pefr.hek.lu.se

An interdisciplinary academic-activist conference organized by the Human Ecology Division at Lund University in collaboration with CEFORCED at Chalmers University

Far-right political parties, ideologies and social movements are increasingly exercising influence across the world. At the same time, ecological issues, such as climate change, deforestation, land use change, biodiversity loss, and toxic waste are intensifying in their urgency. What happens when the two phenomena meet? How, when and why do they intersect? How are party and non-party sectors of the far right mobilizing ecological issues and discourses to their advantage, whether through championing or rejecting environmentalist claims? What are the ecological underpinnings of far-right politics today? This understudied topic forms the basis of this interdisciplinary conference on the political ecologies of the far right.

From Trump and Bolsonaro to the Sweden Democrats and AfD, a radical anti-environmentalism is most often championed by the contemporary far right. This stance resonates with a conspiratorial suspicion of the state, science, elites, globalism, and supposed processes of moral, cultural and social decay. This is most clearly pronounced in climate change denialism and defense of fossil fuels, which have undergone a global resurgence in recent years. But the same position is also articulated in, for example, anti-vegetarianism or opposition to renewables. How can we understand the causes of far right rejection of environmentalism and environmental concerns where it occurs? What broader ideologies, interests, psychologies, histories, narratives and perceptions does it reflect? What might the implications be for ecological futures if far-right parties continue to amass power? How can the climate justice and other environmental movements and anti-racist, anti-fascist activism converge and collaborate?

On the other hand, it is an inconvenient truth that there is a long-standing shadowy legacy of genealogical connections between environmental concern and far-right thought, from links between conservation and eugenics in the early national parks movement in the US, to dark green currents within Nazism. Hostility to immigration informed by Malthusian thinking and regressive forms of patriotic localism have often surfaced in Western environmentalism. Today, the mainstream environmental movement is more usually aligned with leftist, progressive policies, yet the conservative streak that always lies dormant in overly romanticized conceptions of landscape and nature, or fears about over-population, lie ripe for mobilization in new unholy alliances between green and xenophobic, nativist ideologies. In what forms does this nexus appear around the world today and with what possible consequences? What frames, linkages and concerns are central to eco-right narratives? How can environmental thinking ward off the specter of green nationalism?

How to apply:

The conference aims to bring together not only scholars working at the interface of political ecology and far right studies but also activists from environmental, anti-fascist and anti-racist organizations and movements. We believe there is still much work to do to bring together these often separate strands of scholar and activist work together, and much opportunity for collaboration, mutual learning, and networking. This conference aims to hold a space for such engagement.

Scholars: We welcome contributions from all disciplines (geography, anthropology, sociology, history, literature, political science, cultural studies, sustainability studies, STS, philosophy, art history, media studies, communication studies, et cetera). Apart from individual papers, we also welcome suggestions for panels and workshops.

Activists: At least one day of the conference (Sunday – TBC) will focus on activist practices, with an emphasis on sharing and developing ideas and synergies between green and anti-fascist thinking and working, and on ways to collectively prevent a scenario of ‘ecological crisis meets fascist populism’. We invite activist groups and individuals to submit proposals for workshops, discussions, and presentations.

In line with recent calls for radical emissions reductions at Swedish universities, we encourage prospective participants to consider other travel options than aviation if possible. We are also open to presentations via video link.

Submission of abstracts: Please send abstracts (max. 350 words) to pefr@hek.lu.se by Thursday 16th May. There are a limited number of travel bursaries available (we will prefer non-aviation means where possible) for those who are most in need of support. Please indicate in your application whether you would like to be considered.

Possible topics include but are not limited to:

  • climate denialism/climate change, fossil fuels and the far right
  • anti-environmentalism of far right
  • linking environmental, anti-fascist, anti-racist activism and social movements
  • ‘cultural marxism’, conspiracy theories and the environment
  • gender, sexuality, the far right and environment (eco, hegemonic or industrial masculinities, anti-feminism, normative heterosexuality, patriarchy)
  • renewable energy, vegan/vegetarianism, animal rights, agriculture, toxic waste, land use change, biodiversity extinction, pollution etc and the far right
  • environmental science, epistemology and the far right
  • racism, xenophobia, nature, conservation, ecology, wilderness and far right
  • whiteness as/and ‘endangered’ species
  • scenarios of a far-right ecological future
  • religion, ecology and the far right
  • populism, authoritarianism, neoliberalism, alt-right, far right
  • greenwashing, industry links, capital and funding for the far right and links with environmental issues
  • far right narratives on development, progress, and futures and their ecological conceptualization
  • environmental history of green ideas in far right politics
  • dark green histories and genealogies of environmentalism
  • infiltrations of and unhappy alliances between the contemporary far right and environmentalists
  • ecofascism, bio-nazism, green nationalism
  • psychologies, affects, emotions, private lives of the ecologies of the far right
  • historical legacies of ecologically unequal exchange and racial capitalism