Racism Goes Viral: How Social Media Is Normalising Hate and Reshaping Global Politics

There was a time when openly racist public commentary carried a greater social cost in many societies. That cost has not disappeared, and racist abuse has never been confined to the margins, but social media has created new opportunities for people to express racial hostility publicly, find like-minded audiences and gain visibility from the attention their statements attract. A post does not need to contain an explicit racial slur to communicate contempt for a racial or ethnic group. Sometimes the message is wrapped in the language of civilisation, cultural preservation, national survival or concern for the future of society. The question is no longer simply whether racism exists, but whether digital platforms and political movements are making it easier to express, distribute and normalise it.

A recent post by Nelson Rodrigues on X, published on 20 October 2026, provides a striking example. In a Portuguese-language statement translated into English, Rodrigues wrote that Europe would be destroyed by women who project onto “those animals” the motherhood that belonged to children they aborted. According to the figures supplied alongside the post, it attracted approximately 3.5 million views, 108,000 likes and 18,000 reposts, alongside roughly 2,000 comments. Those figures do not establish that every person who encountered the post agreed with it, nor do they independently establish the racial identity or intentions of the people who shared it. But the language raises a serious question about how dehumanising rhetoric can circulate widely while presenting itself as commentary about gender, reproduction, culture or Europe's future.

The word “animals” is central to that concern. In a discussion about immigration, it can portray people as less than human without naming a racial group explicitly, allowing the author and supporters to claim that the statement was not racist at all. The wider context and the identities of the people being discussed matter when interpreting a post, and the available text alone does not establish every intended target. Yet dehumanising language has a long history in racial politics because it makes exclusion and mistreatment easier to justify. When audiences repeatedly encounter such language in discussions about migrants and minorities, hostility can begin to look like an ordinary expression of political opinion rather than a warning sign that deserves scrutiny.

The algorithmic advantage of outrage

Social media platforms are not neutral public squares in the traditional sense. Their recommendation systems determine which material is displayed, which users are encouraged to engage and which posts receive opportunities to reach audiences beyond their original followers. Outrage, fear, ridicule and conflict can generate the engagement that keeps users watching, commenting and sharing. When provocative racial commentary attracts a large audience, the resulting visibility can reward its author with influence, followers and the appearance of public legitimacy, even where the underlying argument is unsupported or dehumanising.

The precise relationship between engagement algorithms and the spread of racism varies by platform, design and context, so it would be inaccurate to claim that every popular racist post has been deliberately promoted by a platform because it is racist. Nevertheless, international human rights discussions have identified algorithmic amplification, content moderation and transparency as important issues in addressing online hate. The Council of Europe has also recognised online hate speech as a threat to democracy and human rights. <Cite refs={["turn540320search47","turn540320search3"]}/>

This creates a difficult incentive structure. A user who publishes a measured analysis of housing policy may receive modest attention, while a user who describes migrants as an existential threat can trigger thousands of angry responses, arguments and reposts. Even people who share a post to condemn it can contribute to its reach, depending on how the platform measures and rewards engagement. The result can be a feedback loop in which increasingly provocative commentary gains visibility, encouraging others to imitate it and gradually shifting the boundaries of what audiences encounter in everyday political discussion.

The problem becomes more serious when moderation systems fail to recognise racism expressed through coded language, insinuation or dehumanising metaphors. At the same time, poorly designed moderation can suppress legitimate discussion and even disadvantage people describing their own experiences of racism. Research published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences in 2024 found that posts in which people disclosed experiences of racial discrimination were disproportionately flagged as toxic in the study examined. The challenge, therefore, is not to remove every uncomfortable discussion of race, but to build systems that distinguish legitimate debate from targeted abuse and discriminatory dehumanisation. <Cite refs={["turn540320search8"]}/>

The political convenience of blaming immigrants

Across parts of Europe and other regions, migration has become a central issue in political competition. Governments and parties face genuine public concerns about border management, integration, housing capacity, public services, wages and the distribution of economic opportunities. Citizens have a legitimate right to demand explanations for declining living standards, long waiting lists, overstretched schools, inadequate infrastructure, high taxes and uncertainty over pensions or welfare provision. Those grievances deserve serious answers, not dismissal.

The danger arises when politicians attribute complex economic and institutional failures primarily to immigrants, particularly when the evidence does not support that conclusion. Housing shortages can reflect inadequate construction, planning constraints, investment patterns and years of underinvestment. Wage stagnation can be influenced by productivity, bargaining power, labour-market structures and economic policy. Pressure on schools, hospitals and transport can reflect population growth, funding decisions and weak planning, with migration playing different roles in different places. Treating immigrants as the universal explanation for these problems offers a simple political narrative while allowing governments to avoid a more difficult examination of policy choices and institutional performance.

This does not mean immigration has no economic, fiscal or infrastructure effects. The consequences vary according to the scale and composition of migration, local conditions, labour-market needs and the capacity of public institutions. A credible government should publish evidence, distinguish national trends from local pressures and explain which policies are responsible for which outcomes. It should neither blame migrants for every problem nor insist that citizens' concerns are illegitimate.

Contextura's concern is that political blame can become racial blame. Once a government or influential political movement repeatedly presents outsiders as the cause of national decline, people who look different, speak different languages or practise different religions can become convenient symbols of a much broader frustration. The argument shifts from what governments should build, fund or reform to who should be excluded. That shift may produce political advantages in the short term, but it risks deepening social division while leaving the original economic problems unresolved.

When nationalist politics gives extremists more room

Nationalism is not inherently racist, and governments with restrictive immigration policies are not automatically extremist. People can support national sovereignty, border controls or cultural preservation without advocating racial hierarchy or hostility towards minorities. The relevant question is whether political movements protect equal citizenship and individual rights, or whether they define belonging in ways that treat certain racial, ethnic or religious groups as permanently suspect.

Concern arises when rhetoric that once belonged mainly to extremist subcultures becomes more acceptable in mainstream political debate. Human Rights Watch's World Report 2026 identified the normalisation of far-right narratives by mainstream parties as a concern in the European Union, alongside persistent racism and discrimination. This is a documented institutional assessment, not proof that every right-wing party or nationalist government follows the same pattern. <Cite refs={["turn540320search11"]}/>

When politicians repeatedly use language that associates minorities with criminality, cultural decay or national humiliation, some supporters may interpret that rhetoric as permission to express more openly the prejudices they previously concealed. That does not mean every racist incident is caused by a politician's speech, or that online visibility automatically translates into physical violence. It does mean that political leaders have a responsibility to consider how their words influence public norms, particularly when their supporters are already exposed to dehumanising material across digital networks.

For Black, brown and other racialised people in Europe, North America, South America and Asia, the consequences can extend beyond insults on a screen. Hostility can affect experiences in public spaces, housing, employment, education and encounters with authorities. Eurostat's February 2026 report on self-perceived discrimination found that, in the EU in 2024, 12.5 per cent of foreign-born people reported discrimination while looking for housing, compared with 4.3 per cent of native-born people. The figures concern birthplace rather than race alone, and do not prove that every reported experience was racially motivated, but they demonstrate that unequal treatment is not merely an online concern. <Cite refs={["turn540320search5"]}/>

Why Contextura sees a geopolitical problem

Racism is often treated as a domestic social issue, but its consequences cross national borders. The treatment of minorities affects how countries are perceived abroad, how diaspora communities relate to their countries of residence, and how governments build or lose international credibility. When a country presents itself as a defender of human rights while tolerating discriminatory practices at home, other governments and international audiences can question the consistency of its principles. That credibility gap can become especially consequential when the same country condemns discrimination or persecution elsewhere.

This is particularly relevant to relations between Europe and African, Asian, Latin American and Middle Eastern countries. Many societies have historical memories of colonial rule, racial hierarchy and unequal treatment by foreign powers. When contemporary political debates appear to revive the idea that some populations are inherently less civilised, less deserving or less capable of belonging, those historical memories can shape how European governments are viewed. Not every diplomatic disagreement will be caused by racism, and governments in the Global South have their own strategic interests, but discriminatory rhetoric can weaken the persuasive power of European appeals to shared democratic values.

The geopolitical consequences also work in the other direction. Rival governments and political movements can exploit racial tensions to portray Western democracies as hypocritical, unstable or hostile to particular populations. Some may use genuine experiences of discrimination to undermine the credibility of Western criticism on unrelated international issues. That does not make the underlying complaints false, nor does it mean every criticism is part of a foreign influence operation. It means that unresolved domestic discrimination can create vulnerabilities that external actors may seek to exploit.

Racial hostility can also strain alliances and international cooperation. Diaspora communities play important roles in trade, diplomacy, scientific exchange, investment and cultural relationships. If citizens or residents feel that their belonging is permanently conditional on their ancestry, religion or appearance, trust in public institutions can deteriorate. The resulting tensions may affect relations between governments, reduce the appeal of international partnerships and intensify disputes over migration, asylum and human rights.

For Contextura, the point is straightforward: racism does not stop at a country's borders. It can weaken social cohesion at home, reduce diplomatic credibility abroad and give political actors a means of redirecting public anger towards vulnerable populations. A society that cannot distinguish legitimate policy criticism from racial scapegoating risks damaging both its democratic institutions and its international standing.

The digital ID question: Fighting hate without building a surveillance state

Governments and technology companies face a genuine challenge in responding to online racism. Measures under discussion or already in use include stronger platform moderation, transparency obligations, reporting mechanisms, law enforcement against criminal threats, and rules requiring technology companies to assess certain risks associated with their services. Digital identity systems are also being developed for purposes such as secure access to services and online authentication. But the existence of a digital identity system does not automatically make it an anti-racism measure, and the relationship between identity verification and the prevention of hate speech must be carefully defined.

Contextura does not consider broad, intrusive digital identification or universal monitoring of online users the best answer to racism. Requiring people to identify themselves everywhere they speak online could chill lawful expression, expose vulnerable users to retaliation and create new opportunities for governments or private companies to collect sensitive personal information. Such systems could be particularly dangerous for political dissidents, whistleblowers, journalists, minority communities and people living under authoritarian governments. Once a surveillance capability exists, its future use may extend beyond the purpose originally offered to justify it.

The European Union's Digital Identity Wallet framework is officially presented as voluntary and designed around privacy protections, including data minimisation and user control. Those stated safeguards matter, but they do not remove the need for public scrutiny of implementation, access rules, security and the potential for profiling. The European Data Protection Supervisor has warned that digital identity wallets can create profiling and excessive-disclosure risks if appropriate safeguards are absent. <Cite refs={["turn540320search13","turn540320search6"]}/>

The policy objective should therefore be to make racist abuse harder to amplify and easier to address without making every internet user permanently identifiable to the state. Platforms can publish clearer information about recommendation systems, provide independent researchers with appropriate access to study systemic risks, explain how moderation decisions are made and offer meaningful appeals. Moderation should focus on conduct and content that breach clearly defined rules or laws, not on suppressing political disagreement simply because it is controversial or unpopular.

Governments should also resist the temptation to treat identity verification as a substitute for enforcement. A verified identity does not guarantee that someone will behave responsibly, while anonymity can protect legitimate speech. Effective policy must distinguish between criticism of immigration policy, offensive but lawful opinion, targeted harassment, discriminatory exclusion and credible threats of violence. The protections required for each are different, and broad technological controls should not be adopted without evidence that they are necessary, proportionate and effective.

What should be done instead?

First, governments should address the material conditions that make scapegoating politically attractive. That means credible housing policy, adequately funded schools and health services, effective infrastructure, fair labour protections, transparent taxation and pension systems, and clear explanations of how migration affects local communities. Where immigration creates particular pressures, authorities should identify those pressures and respond directly rather than presenting entire populations as the problem. Where the principal causes lie elsewhere, governments should have the courage to say so.

Second, social media platforms should be more accountable for the way their systems distribute harmful content. Users should be able to report targeted racial abuse and receive meaningful explanations of decisions. Platforms should assess whether recommendation systems disproportionately reward dehumanising or discriminatory material, publish useful transparency data and make independent scrutiny possible without exposing users' private information. These measures should be evaluated by their results, not merely announced as evidence of corporate responsibility.

Third, political leaders should be held to the same basic standards as everyone else. Criticising immigration policy is legitimate, as is criticising a government for failing to control borders or plan public services. But leaders should be expected to support serious allegations with evidence and avoid rhetoric that assigns collective guilt to people because of their ancestry, skin colour or religion. Political accountability should not depend on whether the targeted group is electorally popular.

Finally, education and public debate must cultivate the ability to recognise manipulation. Citizens need access to reliable information, media literacy and opportunities to examine competing explanations for economic and social problems. A person should be able to question migration policy without being labelled racist, just as a person should be able to challenge racism without being accused of trying to silence every disagreement. Democratic societies are strongest when they can distinguish genuine grievances from narratives that exploit those grievances for political advantage.

The line Contextura believes must not be crossed

The rise in the visibility of racist commentary online should concern anyone who values open societies, regardless of their position on immigration, nationalism or digital regulation. The danger is not simply that offensive words are being published. It is that repeated exposure, algorithmic distribution and political validation can make dehumanising ideas appear more ordinary, more respectable and more widely accepted than the evidence warrants. When that process occurs alongside unresolved economic grievances, minorities can become targets for failures they did not create and cannot individually remedy.

But the answer cannot be to build an all-seeing digital state in the name of fighting hatred. A society should not have to surrender privacy, anonymity and freedom of expression to protect people from racial abuse. The task is to create accountable platforms, enforce proportionate laws, protect equal rights and address the real economic problems that political scapegoating conceals.

Contextura's position is that racism must be confronted without sacrificing the freedoms that make a democratic society worth defending. Governments must stop using minorities as convenient explanations for policy failures, technology companies must take responsibility for the incentives their platforms create, and citizens must refuse to confuse a message's popularity with its truth. The geopolitical stakes are substantial because societies that normalise racial hostility risk weakening their internal cohesion, undermining their international credibility and creating divisions that rivals can exploit. The test is whether governments and platforms can curb the amplification of hate while preserving privacy, lawful dissent and equal treatment under the law.