Consider Denmark. Images of sleek, stylish Copenhagen, the capital, readily come to mind, along with the perception of a liberal and open society. This is the typical Scandinavian image.
However, regarding migration, Denmark has taken a strikingly different path. The nation is now considered “a pioneer in restrictive migration policies” within Europe, according to Marie Sandberg, Director of the Centre for Advanced Migration Studies (AMIS) at the University of Copenhagen – encompassing both asylum seekers and economic migrants seeking employment in Denmark.
Perhaps even more surprising is the political source of this shift. While it’s generally assumed that far-right politicians are gaining traction across Europe due to migration concerns, this is an oversimplification.
In Denmark – and similarly in Spain, though employing a contrasting yet equally radical approach by advocating for increased, not decreased, immigration – the politicians spearheading migration reform hail from the center-left.
What accounts for this development? And what lessons can the rest of Europe – including the UK’s Labour government – glean from these experiences?
Migration is a top voter priority across Europe. These are undeniably turbulent times. With the ongoing war in Ukraine and Russia’s hybrid warfare tactics, such as cyberattacks, governments are prioritizing defense spending while many European economies struggle. Voters are grappling with the cost of living, adding migration concerns to their anxieties.
But in Denmark, the issue has deeper and longer roots.
Immigration significantly increased after World War II and accelerated in recent decades. The proportion of Danish residents who are immigrants or have two immigrant parents has increased more than fivefold since 1985, according to the Migration Policy Institute (MPI).
A turning point occurred a decade ago during the 2015 European migration and refugee crisis, when over a million migrants arrived in Europe, predominantly heading to wealthier northern countries like Denmark, Sweden, and Germany.
Slogans like “Danskerne Først” (Danes First) resonated with the electorate. Interviews with supporters of the far-right, anti-immigration Danish People’s Party (DPP) revealed sentiments like, “We don’t see ourselves as racists, but we feel we are losing our country.”
Denmark drew international criticism for its strict refugee policies, notably the confiscation of asylum seekers’ valuables to offset their stay in Denmark.
The Danish immigration minister even posted a photo on Facebook celebrating the passage of her 50th amendment tightening immigration controls with a celebratory cake.
And Danish legislation has only become stricter since then.
Mayors from towns outside Copenhagen had long voiced concerns about the rapid influx of migrants.
Migrant workers and their families tended to settle outside the capital to avoid high living costs. Denmark’s renowned welfare system was perceived as strained. Infant schools were reportedly overcrowded with children lacking Danish proficiency. Some unemployed migrants allegedly received resettlement payments exceeding those of unemployed Danes, and government statistics suggested higher crime rates among immigrants. Local resentment grew, as mayors warned.
Today, Denmark is among the most vocal European nations advocating for the external processing of asylum seekers and other undocumented migrants.
The country initially considered detaining undocumented migrants on a Danish island previously used for contagious animals; this plan was abandoned.
Then, in 2021, Copenhagen passed legislation allowing asylum claims to be processed and refugees to be resettled in partner countries, such as Rwanda. The UK’s former Conservative government attempted a similar plan, which was later overturned.
Copenhagen’s Kigali plan hasn’t significantly progressed, but stricter rules on family reunification – once considered a refugee right – have been implemented. Furthermore, all refugees’ stays in Denmark are legally temporary, irrespective of their protection needs.
Many of Denmark’s stringent measures appear designed to generate headlines as much as effect change. The Danish authorities intentionally created a “hostile environment” for migrants, according to Alberto Horst Neidhardt, senior analyst at the European Policy Centre.
And Denmark has actively sought to disseminate this message.
During the peak of the migrant crisis, advertisements in Lebanese newspapers warned of Denmark’s tough migration policies.
“The goal has been to reduce all incentives to come to Denmark,” explains Susi Dennison, senior policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations.
“The Danes have gone further than most European governments,” she notes, focusing on politically sensitive issues like crime and benefit access, and explicitly discussing a zero-asylum-seeker policy.
Yet, “before the 2015 refugee crisis, there was a stereotype of Nordic countries being very internationalist… and having a welcoming culture for asylum seekers,” says Ms. Dennison.
Then, the response shifted abruptly to, “No. Our first goal is to provide responsibly for Danish people.”
This turning point, she argues, was also influenced by Germany’s decision to allow a million refugees and others to remain during the migrant crisis.
“That was a political choice that had repercussions across Europe.”
By 2015, the anti-migration Danish People’s Party was the second-largest party in Denmark’s parliament. Simultaneously, the Social Democrats, under new leader Mette Frederiksen, decided to counter this trend, publicly distancing themselves from the party’s past openness to migration.
“My party should have listened,” Frederiksen stated.
Under her leadership, the party shifted towards what is generally considered the political “far right” on migration issues, adopting hardline DPP-associated asylum policies. However, they also reinforced policies traditionally associated with the left: public services.
Danes pay among the highest tax rates in Europe across all household types. They expect high-quality public services in return. Frederiksen argued that migration levels threatened social cohesion and welfare, disproportionately affecting the poorest Danes.
This is how her party justifies its tough migration rules.
Frederiksen’s critics view her “rightward swing” as a cynical power grab. She maintains her party’s convictions are genuine. Regardless, it proved electorally successful.
Frederiksen has served as Denmark’s prime minister since 2019, and in last year’s European Parliament election, the populist nationalist Danish People’s Party struggled to retain a single seat.
Traditional political labels are blurring. This isn’t unique to Denmark. Across Europe, center-right and center-left parties increasingly employ language typically associated with the “far right” on migration to win or retain votes.
Sir Keir Starmer recently faced criticism for suggesting in a speech on immigration that Britain risks becoming “an island of strangers.”
Conversely, right-wing parties are adopting social policies traditionally linked to the left to broaden their appeal.
In the UK, the leader of the anti-migration Reform Party, Nigel Farage, has faced criticism for generous shadow budget proposals deemed unrealistic.
In France, centrist Emmanuel Macron has adopted an increasingly hardline stance on immigration, while his political rival, National Rally Party leader Marine Le Pen, has integrated social welfare policies into her nationalist platform to attract broader support.
But can Denmark’s – and specifically, the Danish Social Democrats’ – tough immigration policies be considered successful?
The answer depends on the evaluation criteria.
Asylum applications are down in Denmark, unlike much of Europe. The number, as of May 2025, is the lowest in 40 years, according to immigration.dk.
However, Nordic Denmark is not a frontline state like Italy, where migrant boats frequently land.
“Frederiksen benefits from a favorable geographical position,” argues Oxford University professor Timothy Garton Ash, while also praising her for addressing migration without resorting to “hysterical rhetoric”.
Others argue that new legislation has damaged Denmark’s reputation for upholding international humanitarian law and the rights of asylum seekers. Michelle Pace of Chatham House contends that protecting refugees in Denmark has become challenging due to constantly shifting legal parameters.
She also notes that Danish citizens with migrant backgrounds have felt marginalized.
She cites the Social Democrats’ “parallel societies” law, allowing the state to sell or demolish apartment blocks in areas where at least half of the residents have a “non-Western” background.
The Social Democrats claim this law aims to improve integration, but Ms. Pace argues it is alienating, suggesting that children of immigrants are implicitly told they are not fully Danish.
In February this year, a senior advisor to the EU’s top court described the non-Western provision of the Danish law as discriminatory on the basis of ethnic origin.
While some European leaders previously dismissed the Danish Social Democrats as having moved too far to the right, now “the Danish position has become the new normal – it was ahead of the curve,” states Alberto Horst Neidhardt.
“What’s considered ‘good’ migration policies these days has moved to the right, even for center-left governments, like the UK.”
Before Germany’s general election this year, then-center-left Chancellor Olaf Scholz pledged to tighten asylum regulations, including reducing family reunification.
And earlier this month, Frederiksen joined eight other European leaders – excluding the UK – to call for a reinterpretation of the European Convention on Human Rights, arguing its restrictions hinder the expulsion of foreign nationals with criminal records.
Challenging international asylum laws is a trend Denmark is establishing on a more European level, according to Sarah Wolff, Professor of International Studies and Global Politics at Leiden University.
“With the topic of migration now politicized, you increasingly see supposedly liberal countries that are signatories to international conventions, like human rights law, coming back on those conventions because the legislation no longer fits the political agenda of the moment,” says Ms. Wolff.
Despite restrictive migrant legislation, Denmark has continued to admit migrant workers through legal channels. However, critics like Michelle Pace argue this is insufficient, considering the rapidly aging population.
She predicts Denmark will face a severe labor shortage in the future.
Spain’s center-left government, meanwhile, is taking a drastically different approach. Its Social Democrat prime minister, Pedro Sánchez, highlights Spain’s economic growth as the fastest among wealthy nations last year.
Its 3.2% GDP growth surpassed that of the United States, was three times the UK’s, and four times the EU average.
Sánchez aims to legalize nearly a million migrants already working in Spain but currently undocumented. He argues this will generate additional tax revenue and provide much-needed workers to address labor shortages, sustaining economic growth and ensuring future pension payments.
Spain has one of the lowest birth rates in the EU, and its population is aging rapidly.
“Almost half of our towns are at risk of depopulation,” he stated in autumn 2024. “We have elderly people who need caregivers, companies seeking programmers, technicians, and bricklayers… The key to migration is effective management.”
Critics accuse Sánchez of encouraging illegal immigration and question Spain’s record on migrant integration. Opinion polls indicate Sánchez is taking a gamble: 57% of Spaniards believe there are already too many migrants, according to 40dB.
In less than 30 years, the number of foreign-born inhabitants in Spain has increased nearly ninefold, from 1.6% to 14% of the population. However, migration concerns have not translated into widespread support for the immigration-skeptic nationalist Vox party.
The Sánchez government is fostering what Ms. Pace terms a “national dialogue,” involving NGOs and private businesses. The aim is to balance addressing labor market gaps while mitigating strains on public services, using additional tax revenue from new migrant workers to fund housing and classroom construction.
Currently, the plan is aspirational, and its success remains to be seen.
“Successful” migration policy depends on governments’ priorities, regardless of their political leaning, notes Ms. Dennison.
In Denmark, preserving the Danish social system is paramount. Italy prioritizes offshoring migrant processing. Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán advocates for strict migrant limits to protect Europe’s “Christian roots,” he claims.
Visa overstays are believed to be the most common way migrants enter and remain in Europe without legal documentation.
However, recent UK governments have focused on high-profile issues like migrant boats crossing the Channel.
Ms. Dennison suggests this is a tactical move, targeting visible challenges to “neutralize public anger,” hoping voters will then support asylum for those in need and the admission of foreign workers.
The Danish approach would be difficult for Starmer to emulate, she adds, given his commitment to international institutions and law.
So, does an “ideal” migration plan exist that balances voter concerns, economic needs, and humanitarian values?
Martin Ruhs, deputy director of the Migration Policy Centre, frequently poses this question to voters across the UK and Europe, believing the public is often more nuanced than politicians.
Most favor a balance: migration limits for personal and family protection, but also fair legislation to protect refugees and foreign workers once that security is established.
Top picture credit: SOPA Images via Getty
BBC InDepth is a hub for insightful analysis, fresh perspectives, and in-depth reporting on significant contemporary issues. It also features thought-provoking content from BBC Sounds and iPlayer.
The flight’s captain called ahead for medical assistance and the plane “landed normally” in southern Germany.
A judge blocked the move one day after the White House promised to swiftly deport the Egyptian family.
Trade, Ukraine and defence issues are likely to dominate the Oval Office meeting between Trump and Merz.
The German city cordoned off a huge area, calling it the largest evacuation since the end of World War Two.
A report into the disorder in Bristol in August 2024 has been published.