You might know Finland from its place in headlines about the “world’s happiest country,” for its “humane” prisons, or from the HBO show about the progressive women-led government it had until recently.
To the outside world, Finns are a cuddly bunch. The Nordic country has long projected itself as a progressive, rational nation. But the northeast European country of 5 million people appears to be sliding into a coma of cultural isolation, bigotry and silence. A darker side of racism and cultural insularity, long hidden behind the PR smokescreen of sauna, coffee and happiness, has surfaced. You just might not have heard about it.
In June last year, a Bangladeshi restaurant worker named Rakibul Hasan Ridoy was stabbed in the Finnish city of Oulu; reports indicate his attacker had previously said he wanted to kill a dark-skinned person. Ridoy has been unable to return to work since, and Finnish immigration services are now considering revoking his work-based visa.
Racism scandals are cropping up left, right and center. A minister live on TV described immigrants as turning Finland into “a developing country, a pigsty and a massacre” and referred to the “great replacement” conspiracy theory as fact. Just a day earlier, deputy prime minister and finance minister Riikka Purra referred to the same theory. Purra — who belongs to the nationalist, anti-immigration Finns Party, which finished second in 2023’s elections — maintains her position despite the discovery of a slew of violent, racist and anti-immigrant posts she had apparently made. “Anyone feel like spitting on beggars and beating [N-word] children today in Helsinki?” an account linked to Purra posted. Another post: “I’m so full of hate and pure rage … What are you doing to my psyche, Islam?”
As Finland’s rapid rightward lurch accelerates, political commentators within the country lay the blame at the door of the right-wing coalition government. Indeed, hate and exclusion has become normalized. Under new rules, Finnish citizenship will be denied to those who have lost their jobs or need state assistance.
But even Finland’s progressive media analysts seem to ignore the more deep-seated racism underlying Finnish society. Finland’s foundation of whiteness existed long before this administration, or the women-led progressive government that preceded it.
According to a 2023 report published by the European Union, Finland is among the top three EU countries for anti-Black racial discrimination, behind only Germany and Austria. Finland also scores highly in Europe for hiring discrimination.
That is the catch of Nordic ideas of equality. It is rooted in the idea of sameness, as opposed to a true equality that understands the value of difference and dissent.
Whiteness, it seems, is deeply pervasive. It is a particular lens in which to view the world and appears through coloniality, a very present type of colonialism that lives on long after a country has won independence. It appears in power dynamics, quietly entrenching nativist sentiment and upholding power dynamics.
Many Finns will feel uncomfortable at any association with colonialism, given their own history of occupation. They may dismiss whiteness as belonging only to American or Western European post-colonial contexts. But that is the catch of Nordic ideas of equality. It is rooted in the idea of sameness, as opposed to a true equality that understands the value of difference and dissent.
Whiteness is what drives Finland’s passive response to Israel’s genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. Along with its Baltic neighbours Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, it remains one of the last countries on the planet yet to recognize the state of Palestine. Its silence stands in stark contrast to its action and advocacy for Ukraine following Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022.
Finland runs on a status quo of “political practicality.” This idea holds a strange duality. Finland advocates for Ukrainian weapons as part of a wider political and cultural closeness, bonded by shared memories of Russian occupation. At the same time, Finland has facilitated Israel’s genocide on the Palestinians, named in a U.N. report published in October as among member states indirectly transferring key arms components used by Israel. Last year, President Alexander Stubb defended the decision to continue buying Israeli arms as “realism.”
As 2024 rumbled into 2025, Finland refused to recognize Palestine, saying it would only change its stance if allies did so. Since then, the U.K., France and Canada have shifted, following on from Spain, Norway and Ireland. In hindsight, Finland’s inertia is a sign of a realpolitik that has long existed. The Nordic country has historically courted weapons battle tested on Palestinians, long before it joined NATO.
Finland’s weapons policy exposes its coloniality, taking part in a system that prioritizes its own self-preservation at the expense of brown and Black people. In doing so, it maintains a racialized hierarchy that says “security” is only for those adjacent to Europeanness. It makes a mockery of Finland’s newfound attempt to paint itself in the Global South as a solid player of “international cooperation.”
Like other issues, Finnish commentators lay the blame at the door of Finland’s conservative-far-right coalition. Again, it is true that Finland’s conservative leadership has dithered. But they’re not the only ones.
Finland’s inaction on Palestine might be best exemplified by its previous starlight prime minister, Sanna Marin. The world’s former youngest prime minister wowed the international media with her polished communication style (and is currently on tour for her book launch), but she has remarkably stayed silent on the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza.
Marin hasn’t published a single statement about Palestinians over the two-year genocide in Gaza. Her boldest acts of solidarity have been two images on her Instagram story (which disappear after 24 hours): the viral, AI-generated “All Eyes on Rafah” illustration, and a photo of “Free Palestine” graffiti sprayed on a wall somewhere during her travels.
Meanwhile, Marin has undertaken routine trips to occupied Ukraine despite ending her political career after the 2023 general election. How does one advocate against occupation in one place but not another? Whiteness is alive and well.
How does one advocate against occupation in one place but not another? Whiteness is alive and well.
Marin’s employment with the former U.K. Prime Minister Tony Blair’s institute is another exhibition of Finland’s progressive whiteness merged with coloniality. The Tony Blair Institute, behind plans to develop postwar Gaza into a “Trump Riviera” and a manufacturing zone named after Elon Musk, is nothing but a colonial machine. Marin’s muted stance is shameful pragmatism. So too is Finland’s, not wishing to anger its American Big Brother. Finnish passivity runs deep.
Finland’s Social Democrats have remained silent as to why they never recognized Palestine when they had the chance to. It was under Marin’s watch in 2021 that Finland began concealing public information about its arms export licenses, beginning with a shipment to Israel.
Through Marin and other public figures, we see how coloniality and whiteness — cousins of western ‘neutrality’ and practicality — permeate deep in Finnish culture.
Glimpses of so-called neutrality appear in Finland’s media, with countless discussions over what Muslim women wear, a bizarre obsession for a country where virtually all of the population covers up from head-to-toe for nine months of the year, or else risks freezing over. Finland is currently considering banning the burqa and niqab, ignoring the agency of those who choose to wear face coverings.
Mainstream media, built on the idea of ‘neutrality,’ does little to help foster vibrant pluralism. A recent article by Helsingin Sanomat, a credible publication, interviews two women living in Helsinki. One wears the hijab, the other has chosen not to. It appears to be a well-crafted story on female agency. Yet even this feel-good story obscures a disturbing power play: Any woman that chooses to wear the headscarf, of her own volition, can only be positioned alongside someone who has actively rejected it. In other words, the minority position can only exist in light of an opposing dominant norm. The story’s visibly Muslim interviewee only exists in relation to her non-headscarf wearing counterpart.
Dig a bit deeper, and you realise that ‘neutral’ journalism is just another byword for maintaining whiteness.
None of this is surprising. Finland is, after all, a teenager in multiculturalism years. The way it packages stories and narratives about Islam, or anyone with multiple non-European identities, looks clumsy.
Still, a quiet shift currently underway gives reason for hope. Political figures such as Li Andersson, part of Marin’s coalition government during the pandemic years and now an MP in the European Parliament, has been a bright spot of determination and passion. The former leader of Finland’s main Left party has routinely tackled Finland’s passivity over Palestine, presents policies in a way that is accessible for everyday people and has openly criticised the last Left government for its failures. Andersson pulls no punches, describing Finland’s current government as “just Thatcherism with racism.” Her European Parliament victory bucked the rightwards trend across the bloc in elections earlier this year and should inspire more bipartisan coalitions elsewhere.
Finland’s progressives still have work to do. They could learn a thing or two from Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral victory in New York City on the importance of bringing in different communities along the journey. It will require embracing communication styles that go against the grain of Finland’s cultural and political rigidity.
However, Finland is lucky that it already has long standing traditions in its favor. Trade union membership remains strong (though foreigners are less frequently unionized). Historically socialist state policies remain a key bedrock. Mamdani himself cited Finland’s free baby box care packages given to new mothers as inspiration for his own vision. Finland must now merge its existing traditions with new ideas of multicultural coalitions.
The biggest shifts have appeared on the ground within Finland’s civil society. Finland is not known for a strong tradition of radical mobilization, muted by a cultural aversion to sticking out. A younger generation has now found a new muscle for dissent and speaking up, demanding justice for Palestinians and an end to foreign policy double standards.
Multiple Finish activists were aboard the Global Sumud Flotilla attempting to deliver aid to Gaza in October, though activists say it was Greek authorities that arranged their return home, rather than their own government. (The convoy’s most famous participant, climate campaigner Greta Thunberg, is also from a Nordic nation.) And Israel’s genocide of Palestinians in Gaza has sparked a wave of student activism across three universities in Finland’s capital region over the last two years. With multiple Finnish universities now calling for the exclusion of Israel from a major research collaboration with the European Union, the impact goes beyond boycotts and institutional divestment. Finland’s youth might have cracked open a cultural shift with their demonstrations of dissent.
Even within the blowback against Finland’s embryonic multiculturalism, there is reason for hope. Racial violence often appears in parallel alongside dynamic on-the-ground shifts, when a second generation emerges with confidence. Parallels can be drawn to my forebears in the U.K. during the 1970s and 1980s. Racially-motivated attacks spiked at a time when a more inclusive idea of what constituted Britishness expanded. I get to call myself British Bangladeshi as a result of the fightback and mobilization of second-generation children of immigrants, no longer content to stay quiet and survive.
Admittedly, my own positionality informs my view. I write this from London, a city with a population twice the size of all of Finland put together. A city where information exchanges happen rapidly. Ideas emerge at lightning speed. Over 140 languages are spoken in my local neighborhood alone. There is a tolerance for conflict in ways that Nordic culture is averse to.
Still, it is clear that — even amid this rightward push — a new type of Finnishness is emerging quietly within the new generation, where being from multiple cultures and living with ‘in-betweenness’ is seen as a strength to society. An identity that is louder, bolder, fluid and no less Finnish. A world where Ridoy might be able to call himself Finnish-Bangladeshi, if he’s afforded the political and cultural choice to do so.
