I am at the European Anti-Racism Conference, being gently lulled by a compelling vision of an open and inclusive Europe.
On stage, Hadja Lahbib, the EU commissioner for equality, herself the child of Algerian migrants, promises that Europe will not turn inwards despite harsh political headwinds.
Racism, she warns, “hides in habits, in assumptions, in systems we no longer question.” And “when discrimination becomes invisible, it slowly starts to feel normal.”
Lahbib has launched a new EU anti-racism strategy and says there is €3.6bn in the bloc’s next budget for pro-equality initiatives.
In the audience are more black and brown people than I have ever seen at an EU event in “Brussels So White”. Most of those present understand racism intimately, have studied it, lived it and challenged it for years.
Everyone knows it’s tough out there, but on this spring morning, we want to believe that change is within reach.
The illusion does not last long.
“These speeches are good,” a young participant tells me. “But as a black person, I don’t need to be told how bad racism is. I’m not the one who needs convincing.”
She is right. Those who need convincing are not in the room.
Those EU no-shows
Racism and EU migration policies are closely linked, yet Magnus Brunner, the EU commissioner for migration — who is among those pushing for the adoption of the much-criticised EU deportation plan — should have been here, but isn’t.
Kaja Kallas, the EU’s foreign and security policy chief, is absent although many policies she implements are shaped by the very colonial hierarchies those attending the conference want to dismantle.
The bloc’s commissioners for trade and development policy should be here to listen to those calling for a revamp of their policies to help make Europe more credible and relevant in the Global South.
But clearly, Brussels operates in parallel universes which rarely interact.
Those working on the bloc’s equality agenda are learning to speak a more inclusive language, discuss structural racism, colonial legacies and intersectionality. But they inhabit their own universe.
Those taking decisions about the lives of black and brown Europeans, migrants and refugees as well as the application of domestic conventions and international laws operate in another world.
Lahbib is the first-ever commissioner who is also a person of colour and Antonio Costa, the EU Council president, is of Goan and Mozambican heritage.
But the institutions they run are overwhelmingly Eurocentric and white — not just in composition but in their worldviews.
Efforts to recruit more diverse staff remain just that: an effort. The Brussels’ wider ecosystem is also losing its initial enthusiasm for DEI (diversity, equality, inclusion) in the face of nativist and white supremacist MAGA headwinds.
Recent national elections in Slovenia and mayoral polls in France notwithstanding, the Europe taking shape outside the anti-racism conference is one of rising far-right parties and mainstream politicians who amplify their toxic message openly and through codes and dog whistles.
Europe’s migration discourse is deeply racialised, with the movement of black and brown people framed as a security threat, not a social reality. Additionally, references to “illegal” and “irregular” migration create a political climate where even demonstrations of solidarity become suspect.
And that €3.6bn? The amount may look impressive but it is the European Parliament that has the final word.
Meanwhile, civil society organisations complain of a “shrinking space” for their activities and the European Network Against Racism (ENAR) has launched a public donation campaign, Defund Racism, Fund Anti-Racism, because of uncertainty over the renewal of its EU grant.
There are many more challenges.
The new ‘Brussels effect’
Jewish organisations that oppose Israel’s genocide in Gaza say they are being excluded from EU-hosted events on antisemitism and the Forum of European Muslim Youth and Student Organisations (FEMYSO) complains of being constantly targeted by smear campaigns.
Debates are becoming more muted as equality experts and activists learn to be silent on questions like Gaza and the illegal US and Israeli attack on Iran for fear of losing their access to much-needed EU funding.
It is, as one conference participant says wryly, “the new Brussels effect”.
Some are less worried about taking risks, however. Discrimination and bias must be called out at all levels, says Rabin Baldewsingh, the Netherlands’ national coordinator against discrimination and racism. Experience shows that being “diplomatic just doesn’t work,” he tells me.
It is national experts like Singh who are responsible for ensuring governments stick to their equality commitments and obligations.
But there’s only so much they can do when only 14 EU states have so far adopted stand-alone national plans against racism.
In many cases despite the rules and regulations, across the EU, discrimination still goes unpunished and victims of racism are often unwilling to bring charges because of fears of retaliation.
Deeply-embedded racism in Artificial Intelligence tools used by border guards and police has added new risks for racialised Europeans.
Lahbib may go the extra mile to use words and narratives which unite but the true test of Europe’s commitment to equality is not measured by conferences or strategies.
It lies in the choices made by EU and national policymakers on who gets funding, who is held accountable and above all, whose lives are deemed important enough to mourn and whose injustices are confronted and remembered.