Michael Curzon
February 25, 2026
Hadja Lahbib
Attila KISBENEDEK / AFP
Europe is dealing with war on its borders, a slowing economy, and rising migration. Yet this is the moment the European Commission has chosen to push a sweeping new anti-racism agenda.
Brussels says the new Anti-Racism Strategy for 2026–2030 is about fairness, values, and security. Critics see something else: another layer of social regulation at a time when many Europeans are worried about jobs, safety, and social cohesion.
The plan was presented by the EU’s equality commissioner, Hadja Lahbib. It promises tougher enforcement of discrimination laws, more data collection, and wider “inclusion” policies covering schools, workplaces, healthcare, and housing.
According to the Commission, racism is widespread across Europe. Officials point to surveys showing that many people believe discrimination is common. They also argue that tackling racism is not just a moral duty, but a matter of security and economic interest.
Today I proudly present the 1st-ever 🇪🇺 Anti-Racism Strategy.
— Hadja Lahbib (@hadjalahbib) January 20, 2026
This Strategy focuses on enforcing the law, breaking down barriers, and building partnerships.
Fighting discrimination in all its forms is at the heart of our European values. pic.twitter.com/X5EannTStz
But the timing raises obvious questions.
Europe is facing growing security threats, geopolitical tension, high levels of migration, and economic uncertainty. In response, Brussels is proposing more rules, more oversight, and tougher penalties. The strategy talks about common EU definitions for online hate crimes, stronger equality bodies, and heavier sanctions for those who fall foul of the rules.
It also confirms that the Racial Equality Directive will be reviewed, opening the door to stricter enforcement across Member States.
The basic question is simple: does piling on more regulation help countries deal with today’s pressures—or does it risk squeezing free speech and trust at a time when public confidence in institutions is already fragile?
The strategy sets out plans to “remove barriers” in employment, education, healthcare, and housing. It also calls for new studies into housing discrimination and fresh recommendations to tackle exclusion.
On paper, it sounds benign. In practice, the heavy focus on targets and outcomes risks encouraging quota systems or forced allocations.
That approach does nothing to fix the real problems many communities face: housing shortages, overstretched public services, patchy policing, and asylum and deportation rules that are rarely enforced. Instead, it pushes tensions down to the local level, where councils and neighbourhoods are left to deal with the fallout.
Integration only works when expectations are clear and shared. Rights matter—but so do duties. When inclusion policy turns into a box-ticking exercise driven by statistics rather than reality, it often backfires. Instead of building trust, it fuels resentment.
The Commission repeatedly points to “structural discrimination” as the main cause of inequality. Its solution is more data collection, mandatory training, and closer cooperation with activist groups.
What it largely avoids is any serious discussion of the issues that often drive social tension: shadow economies, organised crime, welfare abuse, or failures in asylum and return systems.
Ignoring these factors while placing most of the blame on host societies risks turning public policy into a moral lecture rather than a practical response.
Look beyond the fine print and a bigger picture emerges.
The anti-racism strategy fits into a broader effort to shape how Europeans think about mass immigration. Brussels increasingly treats large-scale immigration as a permanent fact—not a policy choice open to debate.
Instead of asking how much migration societies can absorb, the focus shifts to changing public attitudes. The strategy leans heavily on awareness campaigns, early-years education, compulsory training for officials, and guidelines for the media.
This goes far beyond tackling discrimination. The unstated aim appears to be reducing resistance to the visible effects of mass immigration—pressure on housing, public services, security, and community life—by framing those concerns as prejudice rather than policy failure.
In this framework, racism becomes a catch-all label. Question migration levels, demand tougher border controls, or call for clearer integration rules, and you risk being portrayed as morally suspect.
The result is a narrower public debate, managed through regulation and social pressure rather than open political choice.
In the end, the strategy does not adapt policy to reality—it adapts society to policy. By treating mass immigration as unavoidable and dissent as a problem to be corrected, Brussels shifts the burden of adjustment onto ordinary citizens while shielding its own decisions from democratic scrutiny.
That is why the anti-racism strategy looks less like a narrow equality measure and more like social engineering—rolled out at a time when Europe can least afford to lose public trust.
