Once confined to the fringes of European nationalist politics, “remigration” is rapidly entering the mainstream. Raeesah Hassim examines how the idea has moved from far-right circles into election campaigns and government policy, and what its rise could mean for migrants and Muslims.
For years, it was a word whispered at the edges of European politics. It sounded academic, almost harmless. But it meant something simple and brutal: send them back. Not just stop new migrants from coming in, but remove the ones already there.
Today, that word is no longer confined to the fringe. It is appearing in German state elections, French presidential politics and British deportation debates, and has even entered the machinery of the US government.
From Berlin to London, Washington and Johannesburg, the immigration debate is shifting. It is no longer simply: Who should be allowed to enter? Increasingly, another question is being asked: Who should be forced to leave?
“It is no longer confined to a small group of far-right-wing political formations,” Nicholas Mabhena, Johannesburg-based chairperson of the African Diaspora Forum, told One Nation Media. “Indeed, remigration is now becoming accepted in Western Europe.”
What does remigration mean?
There is no agreed definition, and that ambiguity is part of the controversy surrounding it.
In its narrowest sense, remigration can simply mean deporting people who have no legal right to remain. Countries around the world already do that.
But within sections of Europe’s identitarian movement — a nationalist current focused on preserving traditional ethnic and cultural identities — the concept has come to mean something much broader.
Austrian activist Martin Sellner, one of the figures most closely associated with popularising the term, has advocated a model of remigration that goes beyond simply deporting undocumented migrants and encompasses efforts to encourage the departure or assimilation of sections of migrant communities.
That is a very different proposition. Deporting someone because they have no legal right to remain is not the same as deciding that a lawful resident — or citizen — does not truly belong because of their ancestry, culture or religion.
Yet those distinctions are becoming increasingly blurred.
Germany puts it on the ballot
Germany is where the shift has become particularly visible.
The Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) made major gains in September’s state elections, finishing first in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania with more than 38% of the vote amid a campaign in which migration and national identity featured prominently.
But the AfD’s migration politics cannot be separated entirely from its position on Islam. Its programme states bluntly: “Islam does not belong to Germany.” It also supports restrictions on foreign mosque funding, full-face coverings and the status and activities of some Islamic organisations.
“We have seen, in the last few years, a reversal… with right-wing formations becoming more popular in Western Europe, as evidenced by the elections we saw in Germany recently,” Mabhena said. “It has become… embedded in Western European society.”
Britain and France: same debate, different words
In Britain, Nigel Farage’s Reform UK does not always use the word “remigration”. It does not necessarily need to.
The party has proposed mass deportations of people without legal status, withdrawal from the European Convention on Human Rights to make removals easier and an operational target that could see hundreds of thousands of people deported during a single parliamentary term.
In France, Éric Zemmour and his Reconquête party use the term more explicitly and have floated policies that could affect some foreigners legally living in the country.
Marine Le Pen and Jordan Bardella’s larger National Rally has pursued its own restrictive immigration agenda but has not embraced the language of remigration in precisely the same way.
The policies are not identical. Treating them as interchangeable would be lazy. What connects them is the wider direction of travel: the political conversation is moving beyond stopping arrivals towards discussing the removal of people who are already there.
Then it crossed the Atlantic
Perhaps the clearest sign of how far the idea has travelled is Washington.
President Donald Trump returned to office promising mass deportations and a major expansion of immigration enforcement through Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
But beyond the numbers, the language itself is significant.
An “Office of Remigration” has been established within the US State Department’s Bureau of Population, Refugees and Migration. The office has been linked to third-country deportations, where deportees may be sent not to their country of origin but to another state willing to receive them.
The US has developed agreements with countries in Africa and elsewhere to take deportees, with hundreds of millions of dollars reportedly pledged or allocated to facilitate such arrangements.
Think about what that represents. A term closely associated with European nationalist movements is now appearing within the structure of the US government.
South Africa’s version doesn’t use the word
South Africa rarely talks about “remigration”, but some of the underlying arguments are familiar.
The March & March movement describes itself as a citizen-led campaign for stronger immigration enforcement and for South Africans to be prioritised in employment and public services.
In June, the movement helped drive nationwide demonstrations against undocumented migration. The Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) recorded nearly 100 demonstrations against irregular migration on 30 June alone, taking the monthly total to at least 150.
March & March insists its campaign is about immigration law rather than race or nationality. At the same time, rights groups and analysts have warned that the wider anti-migrant mobilisation in South Africa has coincided with harassment and violence directed at foreign nationals.
Mabhena has seen the cycle before.
“When communities blame migrants for their economic failures, we then see attacks directed at migrant communities,” he said. “That anger that is meant to be directed to the elected leadership who would have failed to deliver… is then directed to migrant communities.”
The language may be different in Johannesburg and Berlin, but many of the anxieties are similar: jobs, public services, belonging and, ultimately, who gets to stay.
Where Muslims fit in
Not every restrictive immigration policy is anti-Muslim. Migrants can be Christian, Hindu, atheist or Muslim, while millions of Muslims across Europe and the United States are citizens with full legal rights.
But the overlap between migration politics and debates around Islam is increasingly difficult to ignore.
Germany’s Federal Office for Migration and Refugees found that 69.7% of refugees who arrived between 2013 and 2019 were Muslim.
When a political party simultaneously advocates tougher return and deportation policies while declaring that “Islam does not belong to Germany”, Muslim communities have reason to ask where the boundaries of such policies might eventually be drawn.
Mabhena worries Muslims could become particularly exposed as anti-migrant politics hardens. That does not mean every remigration proposal targets Muslims, but the rhetoric and policies surrounding Islam adopted by parties such as the AfD demonstrate why religion cannot always be neatly separated from the immigration debate.
Borders are allowed. Injustice is not.
Islam does not demand open borders. Nor does it teach that every migrant has an automatic right to remain indefinitely, or that governments cannot regulate immigration, enforce their laws or protect national security.
What Islam demands is justice.
“O believers! Stand firm for Allah and bear true testimony. Do not let the hatred of a people lead you to injustice. Be just! That is closer to righteousness…” [Qur’an 5:8]
That verse draws a line political rhetoric can easily blur.
Enforcing immigration law against an individual on the basis of their legal status is one thing. Treating an entire nationality, ethnicity or religious community as collectively responsible for unemployment, crime or social decline is another.
Governments can regulate their borders. Citizens can demand functioning immigration systems and hold their leaders accountable.
But as “remigration” moves from ideological pamphlets to election campaigns and government offices, the question is no longer simply about immigration.
It is about belonging: when does enforcing the law end, and deciding who truly counts as one of us begin?
