Countering the Asylum Paradox Through Strategic Humanitarianism: Evidence from Safe Passage Activism in Germany

The Shifting Context of Migrant Support

In early 2008, the Bavarian Refugee Council ⁷ together with the municipal theatre Munich Kammerspiele launched ‘Save me – a city says yes’. They had initially planned the campaign only in Munich, but it quickly spread nationwide: over 50 German cities publicly expressed their willingness to host resettled refugees (Pro Asyl, 2009: 28). As a consequence of proliferating securitization of migration and expansion of the German-European border regime in the late 2000s, only very few migrants were able to reach Germany. Asylum applications had fallen almost steadily since the mid-1990s and reached an all-time low in 2008 (BAMF, 2017: 11). Hence, it ‘was a completely different time, no one spoke of refugee flows’ since ‘the sealing off of Europe worked very effectively’ (ISM2). Not least due to low numbers of asylum applications, ‘refugee policy was not yet this big, (. . .) emotional thing for everyone, but rather a niche issue’ (ISM1). Relatedly, refugee support was in an existential ‘crisis of purpose’ and volunteers were afraid of becoming ‘unemployed’ soon, if the numbers of asylum seekers arriving in Germany would keep decreasing (ISM2). Therefore, many pro-migrant activists were reflecting on new approaches. A mere defensive fight against the hardships caused by the German migration regime did not seem fruitful and activists, instead, ‘wanted to go on the offensive’ (ISM1). Save Me intervened in this context of non-salience of migration to raise awareness and bring the lived experiences of migrants at the European Union (EU) external borders back to the German public debate. In doing so, the initiators capitalized upon the discursive opportunities available at that time. For two reasons, it was easier to demand the direct admission of resettled refugees and safe passages for migrants more broadly: firstly, the absence of heated debates around asylum and migration allowed for a broad societal consensus on humanitarian assistance to migrants – at least in the cities supportive of the initiative. And secondly, narratives and images of migrant suffering had not been reproduced countless times and hence, normalized, which facilitated scandalizing the loss of human life at sea.

Against this background, Save Me was established by activists, who considered the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees’ (UNHCR) Resettlement ⁸ Programme as a reference point to push for safe passages to Europe through the local scale, and by this to circumvent the national and European routine of closure. On the one hand, Save Me aimed to demonstrate the willingness of local populations to support the reception of refugees in their cities and municipalities and by this to legitimize liberal migration policies from the bottom up. On the other hand, the aim was not to develop a ‘purely symbolic campaign’ but rather to ‘achieve something concrete’ (ISM2). To this end, they called for the admission of refugees via the UNHCR resettlement programme and turned to the Munich city council as the closest level of government. While advocating for ‘safe and legal ways to Europe’ (Pro Asyl, 2009), the campaign did not make radical claims for freedom of movement but rather referred to an existing resettlement programme for refugees, which had already been an integral part of the international refugee regime for decades (Garnier, 2014).

Shortly after its initiation in Munich, more than 900 local residents agreed to take on a private sponsorship for refugees in case a resettlement programme was implemented. Given the ongoing celebrations of its 850th city anniversary, activists pressured the city to accept 850 refugees a year. Following a subsequent unanimous decision by the city council, Munich’s mayor wrote a letter to the Federal Ministry of Interior, promising the admission of 850 refugees through the resettlement programme and setting up a coordination office for voluntary refugee support, which still exists today (ISM3). Save Me thus succeeded in establishing a municipal consensus, which was heralded by the chairman of the Green Party as an ‘outstanding sign of a major city to declare itself willing to fulfil its obligations to provide international aid in times of isolation’; even the spokesman of the conservative Christian Social Union (CSU) spoke of an ‘important humanitarian gesture’ (Neue Württembergische Zeitung, 2008, authors’ translation). While the political communication of Save Me focused on the role of German cities, actions often symbolically brought the predominantly ignored effects of securitization from the European periphery to the centre of German cities, for instance, through the installation of inflatable boats and lifebuoys or through theatre performances, film screenings and commemoration ceremonies for migrants drowned in the Mediterranean.

Seebrücke emerged in summer 2018 in a totally distinct context which was fundamentally shaped by the critical juncture of the ‘long summer of migration’, including both unprecedented pro-migrant mobilizations and simultaneous restrictions (Karakayali and Steinhilper, 2018). From 2015, Germany witnessed the rapid proliferation of civil society migrant support (Kleist and Karakayali, 2016) and a temporary decline of anti-migrant positions in traditionally conservative media outlets and political parties (Hamann and Karakayali, 2017; Schwiertz and Ratfisch, 2016). Chancellor Merkel became internationally perceived as a ‘beacon of liberalism’ (Bennhold, 2018) for her attitudes towards newcomers. Yet, the political configuration and public attitudes were also highly polarized, with the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) rapidly gaining electoral support and attacks on asylum facilities skyrocketing (Jäckle and König, 2016). While many citizens continued to support migrants, the ruling coalition enacted a series of migration law restrictions (Pichl, 2016), culminating, for instance, in the resumption of summary deportations to Afghanistan in December 2016 (ARD Tagesschau, 2016).

Not only in Germany but also at the European external borders, the situation changed fundamentally in 2016, with the closure of the Balkan route, the EU-Turkey agreement (Heijer et al., 2016) and intensifying controversies around search and rescue activities in the Mediterranean (Cuttitta, 2018; Steinhilper and Gruijters, 2018). Since then, search and rescue organizations have been challenged by ‘toxic’ narratives (Heller and Pezzani, 2017) as well as various administrative and legal strategies aiming at undermining their popular support and operative work. In mid-2018, conflicts about sea rescue and migrant admission in the EU escalated, with the then newly elected right-wing Italian government at the forefront of anti-migrant politics (Giuffrida, 2018). By criminalizing NGO vessels (Hockenos, 2018), the Italian government had further politicized what was previously mostly regarded as a humanitarian act. A tipping point was reached in June 2018, when Italy and Malta refused to allow the rescue ships Aquarius and Lifeline to dock in their ports (Keß and Schwiertz, 2019).

Reports by crew members and visuals of the rescue ship in suspense prompted a small circle of activists in Berlin to meet and reflect on a civil society response (ISEE1). Despite different backgrounds, they shared the view that they ‘could not continue watching this happen’ without becoming ‘co-responsible’ (ISEE1). As soon as the core group in Berlin had set up a webpage, held in a signalling orange, and called upon everyone to take action under the umbrella of Seebrücke, the mobilization spread like wildfire with more than 40 demonstrations within the first week in most parts of Germany (ISEE1). As the core group realized immediately, their initiative had hit a nerve, activating a widespread, but still latent opposition against successive restrictions in migration law, policy and discourse. The shifting context of an increased criminalization of search and rescue and, hence, the politicization of humanitarian practice served as a mobilizing ‘moral shock’ (Jasper, 1997) for many without previous biographies of political activism. Local groups mushroomed all over the country under the new banner Seebrücke, with 83 active groups in February 2019 (ISEE1). Between July and September 2018, tens of thousands of people dressed in orange, many wearing life jackets, took to the streets in sit-ins and demonstrations to protest criminalization of search and rescue and demand safe passages to Europe.

Leaving the Niche: Strategic Campaigning

The respective political contexts in which the two mobilizations emerged affected the strategic choices made by the organizers. In both cases, they deliberately opted for a humanitarian and moderate framing of their activities. ⁹

The organizers of Save Me in 2008 took two strategic decisions in order to spark a novel kind of migration-related mobilization: firstly, the direct legitimation of admission policies through local politics and civil society and secondly, the use of an inclusive language and a positive framing. Save Me wanted ‘to initiate a movement from below, out of the cities and communities’, aiming at a city council decision in support of resettlement (Pro Asyl, 2009: 28). At the same time, the organizers hoped that a ‘positive vote by the municipalities’ could ‘sweep along sceptical federal and state politicians’ (Pro Asyl, 2009: 28). A strategic starting point was to embed the mobilization in local politics by pursuing a cooperative approach, deliberately trying ‘not to go into opposition and say: “Oh here, evil city, evil state”’ (ISM1). On the contrary, the campaign avoided conflict and protest against established policies and governmental actors, and instead, constructively engaged in the development of alternatives. This cooperative relationship with state institutions was also facilitated by the focus on safe passages, and in particular on an already institutionalized resettlement program, backed by the UNHCR as a widely recognized international organization. This approach made the issue of refugee reception compatible for politicians and Save Me deliberately reduced the costs of support even for politicians who actually opposed a more open migration policy. By the time, refugee admission was a topic of potential benefit rather than a great danger for losing votes. Furthermore, local politicians were aware that the city had formally very little competence in resettlement and hence, ‘setting a good-will sign’ was expected not be associated with real pressure to act (ISM1). ¹⁰

However, even more important than a formal agreement on resettlement was the direct legitimization of admission policies through civil society. The initiators not only were interested in a city council decision but also intended to change the broader narrative on migration. Against widespread portrayals of refugees as an abstract threat, Save Me thus wanted to present refugee reception as a responsibility for everyone and to ‘counter-evidence’ the prevailing perception that the majority of the population is fundamentally negative towards migrants (ISM2).

A second strategic choice was the inclusive language and a framing of demands, which aimed at resonating with the societal mainstream. In order to mobilize a broad base, a more ‘bourgeois’ (ISM2), moderate approach was chosen. Although this reduced the space for radical critique, it had the advantage ‘that many people could identify with it and participate’ – not only the No-Border activist ‘with a black hoodie’ but also ‘the 68-year-old Amnesty lady’ (ISM2). The organizers thus wanted to move out of the leftist and anti-racist niche in order to politicize those who had previously been apathetic. This approach resonated, in fact, in the public opinion, attracting a lot of people ‘who [were] per se rather apolitical and per se had nothing to do with refugees’ (ISM2). By catering to the mainstream discourse and not radically politicizing the issue of safe passages, Save Me did not aim at a deep politicization meaning a critical scrutiny of the structural roots of inequality and exclusion, but rather at a wide politicization involving larger parts of society by only partially questioning hegemonic discourses.

Furthermore, the strategy of reaching out ‘to the centre’ of the society and legitimizing admission policies through the local civil society entailed positive framing, advocating for something different from the traditional defensive protest against law restrictions (ISM2). This proactive approach was complemented with opportunities for low-level engagement. Local citizens were given the opportunity to sponsor a refugee: shortly after the campaign started, many had already shown themselves on the website with a photo and a personal statement (ISM1). In this way, the message was conveyed to politicians: here is no subversive group at work but a multitude of local citizens. This approach is also reflected in the core slogan: ‘Save me – a city says yes’, which combines the call for help with the expressed commitment of local host societies to assist. The logo showing a small helicopter and lifebuoy was meant to illustrate the urgency of ‘getting people out of a precarious situation’ (ISM2). The second part of the slogan ‘a city says yes’ was taken from a major rally against racist violence with 400,000 participants in 1992 under the motto ‘Munich chain of lights – a city says no’. The aim was to relate to this moment of urban mass mobilization and turn it positively (ISM2). The victimizing narrative and iconography, introducing a distinction between needy migrants and saviours, was deliberately used to attract support and scandalize the absence of humanitarian assistance (ISM1). ¹¹ By the time, humanitarian duty to assist in life-threatening situations was still considered common sense.

Ten years later, in the summer of 2018, the core organizing group, which set the spark of Seebrücke, adopted similar strategic decisions in order to find resonance beyond the leftist niche, aiming at the broadest civil society response possible: first, to organize the mobilization open source with maximum decentralized autonomy; second, to avoid internal controversies through a ‘minimum consensus’ in terms of claims and a language without the jargon and aesthetics of a politicized leftist niche and third, to focus on the local level as the main scale of mobilization.

Seebrücke was from the outset deliberately designed as ‘an open source’ (ISEE1) project, in which the content was kept at a minimum and a branding infrastructure allowed to knit a visibly distinctive network of activities: ‘From the very beginning, it was very important to us to create something to which folks can easily join in. Not a detailed concept but something to which people can contribute. Also in terms of language, really appealing: “you can also participate, do it yourself”’ (ISEE1). Consequently, an ‘action kit’ provided recommendations on how to register and organize demonstrations but also ready-to-print and reusable Seebrücke logos and merchandise. Furthermore, everyone was invited to report activities to the organizers in Berlin in order to feed the information into an interactive map illustrating the strength and extension of a growing network. When people from all over the country got in touch with the group in Berlin asking when the next activity would take place, organizers instead invited the persons to become active autonomously in their city. The open format of ‘Seebrücke is everybody’ (ISEE2) had an immediate appeal since it allowed for a quick inclusion of newcomers through a decentralized and autonomous structure with less friction compared to centralized decision-making procedures (ISEE3,1,7). This format was reproduced in the local groups, which too assembled diverse people, focusing on political action and visibility instead of lengthy political debates. The autonomy of local groups also allowed to choose a less radical protest repertoire, which did ‘not hurt’ and hence, attracted individuals ‘who had never done anything like this in their lives before’ (ISEE6).

Unity in diversity was achieved through a narrow framing, focussing on safe passages and a decriminalization of search and rescue. On the one hand, this was ‘obviously (. . .) a strategic thought. The Mediterranean topic is relatively easy to scandalize (. . .)’ (ISEE7). On the other hand, these were also the issues which had induced the ‘moral shock’ and boosted mobilization. Political debates on broader questions of global mobility were not held, with most activists well aware that those engaged in Seebrücke would not agree as soon as more structural questions were addressed. Accordingly, the organizers deliberately decided not to write a manifesto in order to avoid fragmentation over broader questions of social organization (ISEE1). Furthermore, language and formats used in pubic communication were kept actively engaging and jargon-free. The core founders applied their knowledge acquired in marketing and the cultural scene to a social movement context, skilfully using the digital sphere and fashionable formats to advance the cause. To name but one example, the activist art collective ‘Peng’ professionally reproduced the website of the Ministry of Interior, satirically sketching out the vision of a governmental reception programme for people rescued in distress at sea (Dorsch, 2018). Not least because of its creative form, a range of celebrities contributed to its production or picked it up subsequently to spread the message.

Finally, the organizers aimed at countering a politics of closure at the federal level by progressive politics from the bottom up, rooted in local communities. They deliberately aimed at encouraging the establishment of local alternatives, where citizens, decision makers and migrants would more closely interact – allowing for more diverse alliances (ISEE1). With the claim ‘make your city a safe harbour’, local Seebrücke groups all over Germany engaged with local politicians to achieve public expressions of intent to host individuals rescued in the Mediterranean. While being largely symbolic, the repertoire nevertheless capitalized on the diversity of the local groups involving at times well-connected and renowned members, who opened channels to local authorities, political parties and the media. This strategy of lobbying in addition to street protest resulted in over 100 ‘safe harbour’ declarations of municipal councils. ¹² In June 2019, 13 municipalities formed an alliance called ‘cities of safe harbours’ to coordinate their efforts for a direct admission of migrants rescued at sea (Stadt Potsdam, 2019). ¹³ Accordingly, in a context of considerable polarization, Seebrücke did succeed not only in stimulating the convergence of diverse parts of the German society – both grassroots and professionalized – into a movement of ‘civic solidarity’ but also in bridging to and initiating new forms of ‘institutional’ solidarity performed by pro-migrant parts of the public sector.

Networks: Bridges Between Grassroots, Non-Profit Sector and Local Government

Both the strategic choices by the initiators and the respective contexts in which the mobilizations unfolded facilitated a convergence of diverse actors, who had previously been largely detached from each other: individuals from various backgrounds, many without a biography of political activism; non-profit organizations with a largely non-contentious repertoire; grassroots organizations and local politicians.

In 2008, Save Me started as a partnership with local cultural institutions, particularly the theatre Münchner Kammerspiele. This cooperation opened the campaign up to a larger potential target group. Save Me, for example, persuaded the artistic director of the theatre to invite local political parties to a panel discussion in the theatre – an event which paved the ground for a subsequent consensus in the city council. The theatre capitalized upon its previous pioneering work to ‘open the theatre to the city’ (ISM1), providing a space for discussion about urban society and reaching out to influential civil society organizations. Save Me tapped the institution’s symbolic capital as a ‘bourgeois theatre with a bourgeois audience’ and not an ‘activist environment’, making the campaign an ‘ideal-typical cooperation between a high-cultural institution and a left-wing NGO’ (ISM1) to attract a large support base. This was further substantiated through alliances with churches, local politics and the backing of the UNHCR underlining that ‘this is not only the stupid idea of the Bavarian Refugee Council, but that it is a political concern of the churches, of UNHCR, of different people and organizations’ (ISM4).

After the rapid success of Save Me in Munich, which had originally been planned only for this local context (ISM2), a nationwide campaign network was set up. Among the about 50 supporting organizations, the campaign cooperated particularly closely with Pro Asyl, the central nationwide refugee rights NGO since the 1980s in Germany. On the one hand, Pro Asyl used its connections to introduce the topic of resettlement and the idea of Save Me at the federal level (ISM1). On the other hand, Pro Asyl supported the development of local initiatives. Materials such as flyers, brochures or the logo and slogan in general were made available for achieving a coherent appearance. The cooperation with Pro Asyl had, however, highly ‘ambivalent’ (ISM1) effects for the campaign, which mirror structural tensions in the relationship between non-profit NGOs and grassroots organizations more broadly. The involvement of an established NGO attracted further attention, but at the same time Save Me activists felt their own role and demands were marginalized in Pro Asyl’s campaign work slowing down the dynamism of Save Me as a grassroots initiative.

To an even larger degree than Save Me, 10 years later, Seebrücke was able to spread numerically and spatially, as it resonated in and connected a wide range of previously scattered networks. The shifting context of a growing criminalization of humanitarian assistance to migrants unfolded a relational effect. Alliances were built connecting highly diverse individuals in terms of age, history of engagement, and so on (yet, relatively homogenous in terms of race and nationality, as will be discussed in the following text). The backbones of the mobilization were four types of compound actors:

Firstly, given the numerous German rescue organizations ¹⁴ , many of those who took part in rescue missions at sea shared their stories upon return. Through their personal accounts, the harsh realities of those attempting to cross the Mediterranean and those trying to assist in an ever more contested context were brought from the distant Mediterranean Sea to the German municipalities. Various local Seebrücke groups started in reaction to public talks by rescue ship crew members and were only spontaneously embedded in the Seebrücke framework: ‘When we heard about Seebrücke, we immediately relabelled our demonstration. Indeed, that was how the Seebrücke was thought of. We were glad we were not the only ones with the idea [of organizing protest]’ (ISEE7). Asked if he could have imagined a sustainable organization around the issue without the umbrella conception of Seebrücke, the same interviewee added: ‘Without this label? Doing this without this label and a larger framework –in [a middle-sized city in Germany]? I am not crazy’ (ISEE7). Accordingly, many of the staff members, but also the rescue NGOs themselves kept close ties with the Seebrücke organizers and joined in for street protest and open letters (Seebrücke, 2019). While keeping a division of labour (operational rescue by NGOs and street protest by Seebrücke), the mobilization was organized and perceived as a bridge between professionalized non-profit NGOs and a networked social movement field.

Secondly, Seebrücke provided a venue to accommodate a part of the volunteers who had started their engagement in 2015 first as humanitarians and had politicized and partly transformed into political activists since. Many Seebrücke organizers initially were surprised realizing that many of those joining the plenaries and protest events were not part of the common suspect politicized milieu but people who had since 2015 been involved in mainly humanitarian refugee assistance (ISEE 1, 3, 5, 7). One of the organizers of Seebrücke noted: ‘Those folks with whom we are constantly in touch, I would say these are those people who helped in 2015, who offered language courses and so on’ (ISEE1). The politicization of humanitarianism since 2015 had an effect on those practising support for migrants at the local level. Some realized that work had become more complicated as a result of increasing restrictions. Even more importantly, they could sense that their voluntary engagement and commitment not only received less recognition but also became discredited. Against this background, the criminalization of search and rescue crews became for many Seebrücke members a symbol for a broader, in their view, immoral shift away from the social consensus to assist people in need. Precisely this indignation triggered the ‘moral shock’ and urge for speaking up publicly instead of continuing to practise support hidden from the public eye. Accordingly, the shifting context prompted many individuals in Germany, previously involved in humanitarian assistance to shift their repertoire of action and join street protest – many for the first time in their lives. Given that Seebrücke attracted also newcomers to contentious politics, the local groups somewhat mirrored the demographics of the ‘welcome initiatives’ emerging in 2015, with young students and retired people overrepresented, but in general, with a highly diverse mix of individuals, who would have been unlikely to work together in other contexts.

Thirdly, Seebrücke also succeeded in speaking to the politicized anti-racist milieu with experience and resources for protest. Given a widespread scepticism towards humanitarian practice, many had long considered search and rescue and the crews involved as something relatively unrelated to their own work: ‘Many of the SAR [search and rescue] organizations are not at all from the antiracist context. (. . .) It is not the ones that are organized politically. Since they considered themselves as humanitarians, I did not have the topic on the radar’ (ISEE1). Yet, when conflicts sharpened, search and rescue became a symbol for broader struggles over migration in Europe, which is why politicized groups including the radical-left Interventionistische Linke ¹⁵ joined in, even though some continued to view the narrow focus on the situation in the Mediterranean and the ‘welcome culture milieu’ with suspicion (ISEE 5, 6).

Finally, Seebrücke resonated in a faith-based Christian milieu, with many churches contributing to the organizing efforts at the local level. Seebrücke organizers were ‘delighted by the church’ building one of the backbones of the mobilizing structure at the local level (ISEE7).

The analysis suggests that, given the high issue polarization of migration since the ‘long summer of migration’ as well as the strategic decisions taken by its organizers, the movement produced spaces of encounter of diverse parts of society. In a historical moment, in which the German society has become divided into supporters and opponents of a plural society, those in the progressive camp have accepted to make compromises in order to forge alliances to counter the ‘great regression’ (Geiselberger, 2017). This trend is also illustrated in subsequent mobilizations such as unteilbar, ¹⁶ which united various mobilizations for an open society into an ‘autumn of solidarity’ (Stjepandić and Steinhilper, 2019).