‘A brother is more than a neighbour’: Symbolic boundary work in Czech pro-migration discourse

Since 2015, the latest so-called migration crisis has become a major discursive topic in the EU, even in countries like Czechia, which have not received many migrants, refugees, or asylum seekers. While researchers have looked at anti-migration discourses in the country, highlighting the ways in which symbolic boundaries around migrants are brightened, there exists a gap in looking at the other side, namely, how migrant rights advocates legitimate the potential acceptance of migrants, refugees, or asylum seekers. In this article, we adopt a cultural sociological approach to explore how two Czech initiatives to accept refugees, including Syrian orphans, variously blur and solidify symbolic boundaries. Our findings show that the migrant rights advocates involved in these two initiatives, who gained the attention of decision makers, follow mainstream discursive narratives, legitimating the acceptance of refugees based on similar arguments and symbols (both religious and security based) as those instrumentalised by the opponents of migration.

Since 2015, the latest so-called migration crisis has become a major discursive topic in the European Union (EU), even in countries that have not received many migrants, refugees, or asylum seekers (MRAS). One such country is Czechia,¹ which is not a major entry point, transit route or final destination for migrants. Nevertheless, the manifestation of a migration crisis in Czechia has been omnipresent in the media as well as in political and public discourse, leading to extremely negative representations of refugees.

Researchers have analysed media images of the migration crisis in Czechia (e.g. Kluknavská, Bernhard, & Boomgaarden, 2017; Tkaczyk, 2017) and the antiimmigrant and securitised politics deployed by Czech political elites (e.g. Jaworsky, 2021; Krotký, 2019; Naxera & Krčál 2019). These studies highlight the ways in which symbolic boundaries are brightened (Alba, 2005). However, there exists a gap in looking at the other side, namely how migrant rights advocates legitimate the potential acceptance of MRAS. In this article, we adopt a cultural sociological approach to explore how two Czech initiatives to accept refugees variously blur and solidify the symbolic boundaries between the ethnic Czech majority and MRAS. By initiatives, we mean the effort to accept more than 100 Christian refugees from Iraq in 2016 and the call to take in 50 Syrian orphans² two years later. We believe that this analysis can help us to better understand how divisions between us and them are constructed, not only in Czechia and Central-Eastern Europe (CEE), but also more broadly. Moreover, by complementing the analytical lens of symbolic boundaries with the reconstruction of binaries and narratives, we enhance the theoretical and methodological toolkit of cultural sociology, in particular the ‘strong program’ (Alexander & Smith, 2003; 2010; 2018).

Our findings show that the migrant rights advocates involved in these two initiatives, who gained the attention of decision-makers, use religiously based sociocultural symbols, binaries, and arguments to legitimate the acceptance of particular groups of refugees. Muslims are defined as an outgroup that threatens other (Christian) refugees and children, who are by contrast presented as the most vulnerable and deserving of help. Moreover, according to these migrant rights advocates, among this particular group of refugees, there can be people who do not fit into Czech society, who represent a potential risk. The humanitarian, historical, and cultural narratives present in these advocates’ discourse and the sociocultural boundaries they draw are closely related to moral arguments. In the end, the legitimation of acceptance of refugees is based on similar lines of argumentation and symbols (religion, securitisation) as can be found in the discourse amongst opponents of migration.

In the next section, we introduce the Czech context relevant to our analysis, and follow with an exposition of the primary migrant rights initiatives in the country. We then elaborate the theoretical concept of symbolic boundaries and the process of boundary work, followed by a section on the cultural sociological methodology and data collection. The two analytical sections focus on legitimation through symbols, binaries, and arguments that create an ingroup and outgroups, along with the narratives that advocates call upon in their symbolic boundary work. We conclude with a summary of the findings and a discussion of their significance.

Secularity is one of the most significant features of Czech social life. Czechia (together with the former East Germany and Estonia) usually rank amongst the most secularised countries, regardless of which religious criteria are measured (Hamplová & Nešpor, 2009). For instance, the majority of Czechs (72 percent) describe themselves as atheist, agnostic, or ‘nothing in particular’ (Pew Research Center, 2017). Just 29 percent of Czech respondents say that they believe in God, and just 21 percent associate Christianity with their national identity (Pew Research Center, 2018). Furthermore, the Roman Catholic Church has very low levels of trust among the Czech population, similar to political parties and NGOs (Hanzlová, 2019). Thus, it is unsurprising that the role of the Church in co-shaping Czech foreign policy has been minimal (Kratochvíl, 2011). Hamplová and Nešpor (2009) explain that the roots of Czech atheism corresponded with the nationalistic and secularising attitudes of the Czech elites in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when the Roman Catholic Church was seen as associated with the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Subsequently, the Communist regime and modernisation processes only strengthened anti-religious attitudes within the Czech nation.

Moreover, Czechia (together with Hungary and other CEE countries) has some of the strongest anti-migrant attitudes and highest levels on the Rejection Index³ in Europe (Messing & Ságvári, 2019). Migration in Czechia is an issue often framed from the point of view of security. From 2015 to 2017, almost 90 percent of Czech respondents perceived refugees as a threat to Europe, while approximately 80 percent identified refugees as a threat specifically to Czechia (Hanzlová, 2018). However, negative perceptions and security framing of migration were evident in Czechia even before the migration crisis (Krotký, 2019; Messing & Ságvári, 2019). The migration crisis and its portrayal in Czech media (e.g. Kluknavská et al., 2017; Tkaczyk, 2017) only heightened such sentiments. These sentiments are often aimed at Muslims, as Čada and Frantová (2019, p. 171) commented: ‘Islam is introduced to the Czech public through stereotypical images of terrorists, religious leaders or waves of migrants’. As a result of the negative attitudes towards migration, Czechia, together with other CEE countries, did not participate in the EU refugee relocation scheme as promised. By May 2018, 34,689 individuals were relocated across the entire EU under a quota mechanism and Czechia accepted just 12 people, Slovakia 16, whilst Poland and Hungary accepted none (European migration law, 2018). The anti-migrant attitudes and non-acceptance of MRAS might be explained by the entrenched security framing or by the contact hypothesis (Allport, 1954) since CEE countries have a relatively low share of migrants. For instance, the share of long-term foreigners in Czechia was just 5.4 per cent in 2019 (CZSO, 2020) and Muslims represent just 0.2 percent of the countrýs population (TRT World, 2020). However, as Messing and Ságvári (2019) explain, the contact hypothesis is not necessarily self-explanatory. They argue that anti-migrant attitudes are ‘rather a consequence and expression of people's lack of safety and security, and a symptom of deep-rooted problems in the society’ (Messing & Ságvári, 2019, pp. 4–5).

Notwithstanding the negative attitudes toward MRAS, along with the secular context, there are numerous NGOs helping MRAS and trying to change the perception of migration in Czechia.⁴ Moreover, there have been campaigns advocating for the acceptance of refugees. This study focuses on two long-term initiatives⁵ that resonated in Czech media and were successful (or close to successful) in convincing decision-makers to accept refugees into Czech society.

The first initiative concerned the acceptance of 153 Christian refugees from Iraq, agreed upon by the Czech government in December 2015. The A brother is more than a neighbour campaign was instrumental in this endeavour. It was led by the Christian NGO Res Claritatis and publicised in its biweekly magazine⁶ as well as on their website, Monitor – the world seen through Catholic eyes. The campaign received more than a thousand signatures and was supported by several Catholic bishops. After launching the campaign, Res Claritatis began to work with the (secular) NGO Nadační fond Generace 21 (NF G21), which managed the selection of the refugees, their arrival, and their integration.⁷ The integration process was managed by the Salvation Army, the Sovereign Military Order of Malta, the Silesian Diaconate, the Multicultural Center for Education (MCE), and Žebřík z.s. (NF G21 ca., 2017). All of these organisations are sponsored by or connected with the Catholic Church. For example, the Apostolic Church had established the MCE (MKČR, 2020) and Žebřík z.s. stresses Christian values in its principles and is partly funded by the Apostolic Church and the Brethren Church (Žebřík, n.d.).

The second initiative we examine relates to the acceptance of 50 Syrian orphans. In August 2017, the civic initiative Češi pomáhají (Czechs Help) launched a petition in which they called for the acceptance of Syrian mothers with children. Even though the petition was signed by over 4,200 people, Czechs Help was looking for a politician that would become the face of the campaign. In June 2018, a Member of the European Parliament (MEP), Michaela Šojdrová (from the Christian Democrat party), became an ally. Concretely, Czechs Help and Šojdrová began to advocate for accepting 50 orphans from Syria, garnering the support of 36 (out of 80) senators, who sent a declaration addressed to the Czech prime minister (Czechs Help, n.d.; Senate, 2018). Later, in December, 2018, Czechs Help and Šojdrová sent an open letter, addressed to the Czech prime minister and the Minister of the Interior, requesting help in accepting unaccompanied Syrian orphans from Greek refugee camps. This letter was signed by celebrities, scientists, politicians, and by some representatives of the Catholic Church (Czechs Help, n.d.). In November 2019, the Czech Chamber of Deputies voted on the proposal to accept unaccompanied minors from Greece during their plenary session. However, the Chamber refused to discuss the issue at all, and to date, no orphans from Greece have been sponsored. The Czech prime minister heavily criticised the idea, instead suggesting that help should be provided in the country of origin (ČT24, 2019).

Regardless of their success, or lack thereof, the two initiatives – one implemented (at least partially) and one not at all – represent salient manifestations of solidarity with refugees. With similar scenarios in other CEE countries (e.g. BBC, 2015; Dambach, 2018; Wasik & Foy, 2015), the Czech case offers a fitting example for studying the ways in which symbolic boundaries are drawn around MRAS by those working on their behalf.

Symbolic boundaries define individuals as members of a particular group while excluding others (Lamont & Fournier, 1992). They are illustrated by normative prohibitions and cultural approaches and practices, or principles of sympathy and resistance (Lamont, 2001). Symbolic boundaries are closely related to social boundaries; while both are equally real, if symbolic boundaries are widely accepted and agreed upon, social boundaries may emerge and foster inequality and social exclusion (Lamont & Molnár, 2002).

Symbolic boundaries can differ according to the type of symbolic categorisations through which they are constructed. Migration scholars focus primarily on ethnic and racial boundaries (e.g. Alba, 2005; Ponce, 2018; Wimmer, 2013). Others highlight how collective religious boundaries can be viewed (by secular liberals) as barriers to autonomy and individual choice, while seen as safeguards of shared space by religious groups (Mizrachi & Weiss, 2020). For the purposes of this article, we do not differentiate racial, ethnic, or religious boundaries. Indeed, they are often intertwined (Abutbul-Selinger, 2017) and hardly separable, even analytically. Instead, we call upon Nguyen-Akbar’s (2017) broader conceptualisation of sociocultural boundaries, constructed through symbols of nationality, ethnicity, race, and culture (including religion, which is particularly important for our case). Further, as Jaworsky (2016) notes, two dimensions of boundary work in the context of migration are often overlooked by the academic literature, namely, the moral and legal criteria that interact to distinguish migrants as (un)deserving.⁸ The line between the legal and the illegal interacts with these moral boundaries that categorise people as worthy or unworthy (cf. Lamont & Molnár, 1992b) or similarly distinguishes the good from the bad, the right from the wrong (cf. Ben-Yehuda, 2005). We consider both sociocultural boundaries and moral boundaries to be a subset of symbolic boundaries, broadly understood.

Boundary work, or the ‘process by which individuals define their identity in opposition to that of others by drawing symbolic boundaries’ (Lamont & Fournier, 1992a, p. 233), is not just about the recognition of differences. It is a collection of ongoing processes which cross, blur, shift, solidify, brighten, and maintain (Jaworsky, 2016). Zolberg and Woon (1999) offer a typology of boundary-related changes: (1) crossing, when someone moves from one side of the boundary to another, without any real impact to the boundary itself; (2) blurring, which occurs when a group can enter into an ambiguous social space with respect to the boundary; and (3) shifting, which eventually manifests after crossing and blurring whilst also allowing for a previously excluded group to become included. The solidification of boundaries strengthens their salience. With bright boundaries, it is clear on which side of the boundary a group is located (Alba, 2005). In this study, we focus primarily on the boundary blurring and solidifying performed by refugee/migrant rights advocates in Czechia, which stands in contrast to the solidifying and maintenance that often occurs within the media and political discourse about MRAS.

We offer a caveat about lumping all of Europe together as Western. Bail (2008) shows that in the Western world, racial and religious criteria do not play as significant a role as language and culture in the construction (and brightening) of symbolic boundaries. He does note, along with other scholars, that in CEE countries, racial as well as religious symbols and boundaries have a greater impact (e.g. Kissová, 2018; Ponce, 2018). In a 2015-2017 survey conducted in 34 countries, the Pew Research Center (2018) found that Western Europeans are more likely than their CEE counterparts to accept Jews or Muslims into their family (through intermarriage, for instance). For example, just 12 percent of Czechs would accept Muslims, with Hungary, Poland, and Slovakia coming in at 21, 33, and 47 percent respectively. Topinka (2015, p. 61) confirms that due to the rejection of religion generally, and little experience with Muslims in the country, they are seen as a threat to Czech society, arguing that ‘Unsuccessful integration is often interpreted predominantly through religious terminology; Islam is identified in public discourse as a major barrier to inclusion and a source of social exclusion for Muslim-immigrant societies’. Trittler (2019) finds that perceived discrimination among Muslim minorities is more decisive in highly secular contexts than in the highly religious regions of Western Europe. Thus, examining boundary work in the secular Czech context can foster a better understanding of the determinants influencing the acceptance of MRAS.

In this article, we explore how religious symbols, binaries, and arguments play a role in the blurring and solidifying of symbolic (sociocultural) boundaries by those who advocate on behalf of MRAS in Czechia. Due to the similar contexts and historical backgrounds of CEE countries, we believe that the results of our research can be usefully expanded to understanding the region more broadly. Further, our findings shed light on the processes of boundary work concerning MRAS.

The main goal of cultural sociological analysis is to understand the meaning-making process of social actors, following Weber’s idea of verstehen. To do so, we follow the methodological orientation of the strong program in cultural sociology, as developed by Alexander and Smith (2003; 2010; 2018). The basic premises include: (1) granting culture relative analytical autonomy, or in other words, making it an independent instead of dependent variable, (2) the reconstruction of meanings through thick description (Geertz, 1973) of codes, narratives and symbols, and (3) the attribution of causality to such culture structures which ‘anchor causality in proximate actors and agencies, specifying in detail just how culture interferes with and directs what really happens’ (Alexander & Smith, 2003, p. 14).

Our methodology thus relies upon the reconstruction of cultural structures through Geertzian thick description to draw the binary codes and narratives into a system of meaning that will help to understand how those advocating for the acceptance of MRAS in Czechia justify and legitimise their efforts. Theories about narrative genres (Frye, 1957; Smith, 2005) offer a way to depict such storylines. Binaries are the building blocks of storytelling in the chosen genre (romantic, tragic, or apocalyptic), delineating characters like heroes and villains or, in our case, ingroups and outgroups as well as us and them. The logic of analysis was primarily inductive, letting the advocates arguments reveal their meanings, though an iterative process involving data collection, repeated readings of the data and the reconstruction of symbols, binaries, and narratives. Such a method starts with what Stuart Hall refers to as a ‘long preliminary soak, a submission by the analyst to the mass of his material’ that reveals ‘the same underlying appeals, the same notes being sounded again and again in different passages and contexts’ (Frye 1957, p. 15), and continues with repeated, deep, interpretive readings.

We analyse data from different social actors, including NF G21 and Res Claritatis, which both advocated on behalf of Iraqi refugees, as well as commentary by Michaela Šojdrová MEP and the civic initiative Czechs Help, who initiated the process to accept 50 Syrian orphans.⁹ The documents used for the analysis are slightly different in each case. In the case of NF G21, we analysed the extensive annual reports for the years 2015 and 2016, which detail every step taken by the organisation to accept the 153 Iraqi refugees. We also collected the fourteen online articles written about the acceptance Iraqi refugees published on Res Claritatis’ website, Monitor – the world seen through Catholic eyes, from January 2015 - the launch date for their campaign A brother is more than neighbour - to March 2016 - the end of the project. In the case of accepting Syrian orphans, we collected fifteen commentaries published on the official website of Michaela Šojdrová beginning in July 2018, when she first spoke on the topic, until we reached theoretical saturation (Glaser, 1978); after one year of campaigning, no new themes had appeared in her commentary. Finally, we examined the website of the civic initiative Czechs Help which, as in the case of NF G21, uses the website to present its origins, purpose, and approach. The following research questions guided our analysis of the collected data:

1. How and by what arguments, binaries, and symbols are the ingroup and various outgroups defined by two initiatives advocating for the acceptance of refugees in Czechia?

2. How does symbolic boundary work play a role in the narrative argumentation of these two initiatives advocating for the acceptance of refugees in Czechia?

We explore RQ1 by first delineating who belongs to the ingroup, namely who deserves acceptance. Then we turn to the outgroups, those who are considered not to deserve help. To do so, we categorise the arguments, binaries, and symbols that legitimate belonging. In answering RQ2, we analyse and categorise narrative argumentation strategies by which migrant rights advocates try to legitimate their initiatives.

Our first research question seeks to inquire into how and by which arguments, binaries and symbols the ingroup and various outgroups are defined by these two initiatives advocating for the acceptance of refugees in Czechia? The binary between Christians and Muslims is explicitly religious. Res Claritatis, in a letter to the then Prime Minister Sobotka defined the Iraqi refugees as part of the ingroup, a group of families who ‘ … because of their Christianity belong to the same cultural circle as our country’ (Monitor ca., 2015). Both Res Claritatis and NF G21 also include converts into the ingroup. However, they are subjected to a high standard of proof:

Proof of Christianity provides membership into a spiritual family as brothers. The labelling of the Res Claritatis initiative – ‘A brother is more than a neighbour’ – acts as a shorthand for highlighting exactly who is part of the ingroup or family. Certainly, helping one’s neighbour is important, but (Christian) brothers (including converts) warrant special attention, especially when they are being persecuted for their faith (Monitor ca., 2015). It thus creates a moral hierarchy. Firstly, you should help your spiritual family and then others (neighbours).¹⁰ As we show in more detail in the following section, religiously based sociocultural boundaries and arguments interact with moral boundaries.

Interestingly, NF G21 uses the more secular term neighbour in framing those who need help, even though they are also referring to Christians: ‘[We] are still convinced that we have done the right thing, and we can only believe that it makes sense and that this project will save some of our neighbours from death and give them hope for a new life’ (NF G21 ca., 2017). However, this sentence is mentioned in a passage that describes the pitfalls of the project – when just 34 of the 89 accepted refugees stayed in Czechia. NF G21 also explains the challenges of the project by mentioning that ‘we [NF G21] help people from other cultures’ (ca. 2017, emphasis ours). On the one hand, culture (in the form of religion) is the reason that Christian neighbours belong to the ingroup. On the other hand, culture – customs and language – is the reason the process of integration is so difficult.¹¹

Just as clearly as those who comprise us are defined as people in need of help, those defined as them threaten the ingroup – in particular, radical Islamists, such as ISIS/Daesh that put the lives of the innocent in ‘direct danger’ (Monitor, 2015). However, both initiatives also construct ordinary Muslims as part of the outgroup, legitimating such claims through the testimony and stories of Christian refugees, which in turn blurs the differences between Muslims and radical Islamists by using the general category of Muslim. To take but one example of this blurring from the Monitor: ‘They [Christian refugees] were expelled from their homes, had to leave everything without notice and flee the threat of death or rape and from enslavement caused by Muslims’ (Monitor, 2016, emphasis ours). By defining Muslims in general as a symbolically polluted outgroup, Res Claritatis solidifies or brightens sociocultural boundaries between Muslims and Christian refugees as well as between Muslims and Czech society.

In the case of accepting Syrian orphans, there are several arguments with which Šojdrová and Czechs Help work to create a symbolic boundary between us and them. Explicitly, it is about the binary between children and adults. Montgomery (2009) explains that in many societies, children are defined as vulnerable and must be looked after not only by their relatives, but also by any member of society, a moral argument that resonates in the Czech context. As Šojdrová (2019) puts it, ‘[A]ll children are also our children … ’. Refugee children, referred to in the Czech discourse as Syrian orphans, needy children, or unaccompanied minors, are constructed as vulnerable: ‘I look at the refugee crisis primarily through the eyes of innocent victims – children’ (Šojdrová, 2018d). Presumably adults, as those responsible for the conflict in Syria, are less worthy and acceptable as refugees than children.

However, religion enters into the picture as well. Moral arguments about vulnerability interact with religiously based sociocultural boundaries in this discourse. Šojdrová (2018) suggests accepting the youngest orphans whose faith in Islam is not yet strong:

Moreover, Šojdrová emphasises how children can be shaped to accept Czech cultural values: ‘The Czechs may be worried about illegal refugees, potential Islamists, but a child is still a child - capable of education, shaping, being influenced to accept the principles of our culture’ (Šojdrová, 2018a). This sentence also specifies the outgroup, lumping together illegal refugees and potential Islamists.

One of the most surprising findings is the presence of security discourse in the definition of Syrian children as part of us. Šojdrová argues explicitly that to help unaccompanied minors will ultimately prevent security risks for Czech society:

McDonald (2008) proposes that some social actors question dominant discourses of security through offering alternative security discourses rather than simply arguing for desecuritization. In our case, Šojdrová accepts and works with the logic of the security discourse dominant in Czechia (e.g. Krotký, 2019; Tkaczyk, 2017). There is nothing to worry about in the acceptance of Syrian orphans. On the contrary, it is a tool to protect Czech citizens by overseeing their upbringing. Thus, securitisation can work as tool for blurring symbolic boundaries between child refugees and Czech citizens, as well as brightening the boundary around adult refugees, who represent a potential security risk for Czech society. Šojdrová also expresses her confidence in the Ministry of the Interior with regard to choosing the right orphans: ‘It should be based on a government resolution, and after discussion in the Chamber of Deputies. Officials of the Ministry of the Interior would then carefully select specific children, in a responsible way and using the entrusted competence’ (2018a, emphasis ours). Thus, defining orphans as a vulnerable group is not enough for their acceptance. Apparently, among this group there are potentially children who do not fit into Czech society.

NF G21 also reacts to the security discourse built around refugees in Czechia. NF G21 emphasises that the final list of refugees selected for acceptance will only include people who undergo security checks, stressing that the Ministry of Interior will control the entire process. As an example of keeping these strict rules, NF G21 mentions: ‘One person did not pass the security screening of the Czech intelligence services. As a result, the whole family was removed from the list’ (NF G21 ca., 2017). It seems that with both initiatives, it is important to reassure Czech society that beyond fitting into their culture, all accepted refugees will not be potential security risks for the country. Thus, being a Christian refugee or an orphan is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for selection, as well as for eventual acceptance into Czech society.

In the end, the construction of Iraqi refugees as us occurs mainly through religion, which blurs the symbolic boundaries between Czech citizens and (Christian) refugees (See Table 1). At the same time, it solidifies and brightens symbolic boundaries between Christian brothers and them, namely neighbours of other religions. Syrian orphan children are defined as part of the ingroup since they are young and vulnerable, as well as being easy to assimilate into Czech culture (and by implication, religion). Nevertheless, they must still undergo a security check to minimise the potential risks to Czech society. Securitisation is a strategy for blurring symbolic boundaries (between child refugees and Czech citizens) as well as solidifying them (between Czech citizens and [Muslim] adult refugees). In the following section, we take a closer look at the symbolic boundary work amongst migrant rights advocates, highlighting the interaction of moral and religiously based sociocultural boundaries within narratives justifying the acceptance of refugees.

Much of the symbolic boundary work among migrant rights advocates takes place in the context of narratives that legitimate the acceptance of Iraqi refugees and Syrian orphans in Czech society. We find three types of stories – a humanitarian narrative, a historical narrative, and a cultural narrative. All are infused with religion. The primary differences lie in how the plot unfolds and which initiative calls upon which narrative most frequently. Narratives generally have a clear beginning, middle, and end (Polkinghorne, 1995) and follow certain genres (Frye, 1957; Smith, 2005). While the humanitarian narrative is presented as a complete story in the tragic-turned-romantic genre, the historical and cultural narratives have two potential resolutions, a romantic one - in which Czechia is the hero - and a tragic one - in which the country is relegated to the role of an egoistic, self-interested actor.

We have already hinted at the humanitarian narrative in the previous section, demonstrating how Syrian orphan children are defined as the single most vulnerable group of refugees. But religiously based sociocultural boundaries delineate another vulnerable group. Christian refugees are framed by Res Claritatis and NF G21 as people who are starving, struggling, and living under the threat of rape and murder. Although the situation may be compared with the genocide of Jews, at least the Jews have a place of refuge:

At the beginning of this tragic narrative, Christians are under threat, with ‘nowhere to go’. Further, the initiatives highlight that some of them are widows, children, and the sick. The rest of the story is implicit but morally clear. The potential escape, forms the middle of the plot line and in the romantic ending Czechia swoops in as the humanitarian rescuer. In particular, children represent one of the most important moral appeals made by migrant rights advocates through humanitarian narratives. For example, all fourteen articles written by Res Claritatis for the Monitor contain photos. Two feature religious symbols, two depict the announcement of a government meeting, and the remaining 10 contain Iraqi refugees, either whole families or single children. The unspoken narrative of innocent children and their families in these photos, reveals how migrant rights advocates work to blur symbolic (and moral) boundaries by using children to ‘activate a strong moral response’ (Jaworsky, 2016, p. 72).

Children also appear in the historical narrative, employed in both initiatives. Šojdrová highlights the efforts of British humanitarian Nicholas Winton, who saved hundreds of Czechoslovak children from being transported to Nazi concentration camps at the beginning of World War II. She is inspired not only by Winton but also by the current UK initiative to take in child refugees from Eritrea, Syria, and other countries. Czechia’s acceptance of Syrian orphans would be a reciprocal humanitarian gesture. As Šojdrová herself has commented ‘Similarly, Czechia could repay the help provided to children from former Czechoslovakia before and during the Second World War by Britain’ (Šojdrová, 2018a). Moreover, Res Claritatis (Monitor ca., 2015) has pointed out that many (adult) Czechoslovaks emigrated because of the Communist regime and were warmly accepted in other countries. Thus, accepting the refugees is presented as a moral act which was somehow normal in the country’s history. The beginning of this historical narrative in the romantic genre, in which the Czechoslovaks suffered and were rescued, relies upon a moral appeal in which symbolic boundary blurring to help others is a norm.

Indeed, as the historical narrative continues and reaches its middle, stories about how Czechoslovakia has helped many others in its history emerge. As the group Czechs Help (n.d.) elaborates in their petition:

The end of this narrative now offers two possibilities. In the first, romantic ending, Czechia continues its legacy as a humanitarian rescuer. In the second, there is a potential plot twist. The current lukewarm, or even negative, attitudes towards refugees cements a bad reputation abroad for its citizens, as ‘opportunists’ or ‘egoists’ and forebodes a tragic ending. What kind of country Czechia will be in the end is closely related to the resolution of the cultural narrative, which talks about the country’s character and values.

The cultural narrative, used primarily in the initiative to take in Syrian orphans, offers legitimation for the blurring of moral boundaries that would allow the acceptance of refugees. Šojdrová and Czechs Help (2018), in their letter to the Czech prime minister and the Minister of the Interior, call ‘for the expression of human solidarity inherent in our Christian and Western civilisation’. In the beginning of this narrative, Czechia embodies a certain (Christian) Western character, well-known throughout the world, not least through the legacy of the dissident-turned-president of post-socialist Czechoslovakia, Václav Havel. Šojdrová (2019a) stresses that helping people in need is the norm for developed countries: ‘We are a developed democratic society and we need to view human rights in a broader context. We have a tradition of doing this and a good reputation in the world’. The country, is, in essence, a hero.

The middle of the cultural narrative is about a country that cares for the security and safety of its people. On the one hand, there is a moral duty based on the country’s Christian heritage, as Czechs Help (n.d.) points out by citing a letter signed by 36 senators and sent to Prime Minister Babiš: ‘If we want to stand before the face of God and the judgment of our own children, we must help’. On the other hand, as Šojdrová (2018e) warns, any expression of solidarity must not jeopardise the security of Czechia:

Šojdrová is aware of the possible criticism based on security issues and therefore she increases the creditability of her appeal by standing with the mainstream opinion, which calls for heightened border security in the time of a migration crisis.

The end of this story is one in which Czechia (potentially) repairs its marred reputation in the world and secures its status as a part of (Christian) Western civilisation, again a romantic ending in which the country remains a hero. Czechs Help (n.d.) admits to a sense of shame in the petition: ‘We citizens of Czechia are concerned about the current social development and we are deeply ashamed of our country’s indifferent approach to helping people fleeing the most cruel war’. Šojdrová (2018c) offers a way out: ‘I will propose to the Prime Minister something that has already been successfully implemented or is being implemented in other countries, such as the UK, France or Ireland’. The examples of other initiatives in the Western world to accept Syrian orphans serves as another argument for why Czechia should blur its symbolic boundaries and help. Even Slovakia, its neighbour and former national partner, seen by many Czechs as a younger and less mature ‘brother’ (Holý, 1996), has stepped up: ‘According to our reports, Slovakia is also finalising the adoption of 10 Syrian children’ (Michaela Šojdrová & Czechs Help, 2018).

Finally, Šojdrová (2018a) legitimates the acceptance of Syrian orphans by making a rational appeal to the cultural narrative, about Czechia’s strategic position in the foreign policy field: ‘ … Czech assistance to five dozen children would improve the Czech position before the autumn talks on the revision of European asylum and migration policy … ’. Later, she writes:

Accepting the Syrian orphans is presented as a compromise that will restore Czechia’s good name and bring advantages in political negotiation over refugees.

Migrant rights advocates legitimate the acceptance of Iraqi refugees and Syrian orphans through calling upon and blurring religious, sociocultural, and moral boundaries, which interact in humanitarian, historical, and cultural narratives. These narratives are only separable analytically. In reality, the stories are intertwined, especially when it comes to children. These narratives, like the arguments made about the ingroup and outgroups in the previous section, show that the legitimation of migrant rights advocates is based on religious and security arguments. These actors thus react to existing anti-migrant and securitised discourse and mirror the discursive strategies employed by opponents of migration.

In this article, we have utilised the tools of cultural sociology to examine the ways in which certain migrant rights advocates in Czechia justify the acceptance of Iraqi refugees and Syrian orphans. Our analysis focuses on the symbolic boundary work enacted through the online-public discourse of Res Claritatis and NF G21 (in the case of Iraqi refugees) and MEP Michaela Šojdrová and Czechs Help (in the case of Syrian orphans). Even though only one of these actors is explicitly religious (Res Claritatis), the others also employ religious sociocultural boundaries to distinguish who is deserving of help. Moreover, we find that moral arguments play a significant role in the discourse.

We have presented two related research questions to explore how legitimation occurs. First, we have delineated the arguments and symbols that help construct the outgroup and ingroup defined by the migrant rights advocates in this study. The construction of belonging is very similar in both initiatives. At first glance, it seems important that Iraqi refugees and Syrian orphans are defined as the most vulnerable group of refugees. In both cases, children are automatically defined as us, through moral justification, and identified as potential victims. However, we suggest that the vulnerability of refugees is a superficial argument which masks a deeper justification. Their belonging depends on their potential cultural assimilation to the circle of we, implicitly European/Western Christians. Indeed, a Christian brother is more than a vulnerable neighbour. Defining Syrian orphans and Christian refugees as an ingroup is thus a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for their acceptance. They can still represent a potential security risk or not fit into our society and culture adequately.

The outgroup (them) is thus clear. On the surface, Islamists (ISIS/Daesh) are the main problem, but in the end, Muslims as a general category are lumped together as the enemy. This finding points to the importance of religiously based sociocultural boundaries, which are blurred to include Christians and children (whose identity can be shaped to be Christian) into Czech society. Further, these initiatives are both religiously oriented or supported by Church authorities, which represents a notable finding since Czechia ranks amongst the most secular countries. Such a finding would be more plausible in other CEE countries where many, or even the majority, are Catholic or Orthodox (Pew Research Center, 2017; 2018). Nevertheless, religion functions as a cultural marker, important (especially in contrast to Islam) in a civilizational sense, ‘understood not as a religion, but as a civilization, as coextensive with the “West”, or with what used to be called “Christendom”’ (Brubaker, 2017, p. 1200).

Second, we have revealed three types of narratives in which symbolic boundary work takes place among the migrant rights advocates in this study. A humanitarian narrative in the romantic genre frames Christian refugees and children as the most vulnerable group of people facing danger, who need the assistance of a compassionate rescuer. The historical narrative places Czechia in such a position, not least because the country has previously received help from others, during World War II and the Cold War. Moreover, the cultural narrative situates the country as a progressive, Western (and Christian) nation that cares for the security of its people. In both the historical and cultural narratives, the end of the story remains unresolved. On the one hand, Czechia’s reputation has been sullied on the world stage, as opportunistic and egoistic. On the other hand, there is a chance for redemption through offering solidarity to refugees, portrayed as a rational act that can improve the reputation of Czechia and can create an advantage in political negotiation. Czechia can remain the hero in a story with a romantic ending. In all three narratives, moral boundaries are activated alongside religious sociocultural boundaries, notwithstanding the secular Czech context.

There are many similar elements in these two initiatives. Migrant rights advocates call upon both religious and moral criteria in their symbolic boundary work. Although both gained attention among politicians, only one of the initiatives has been realised, with 89 of the planned 153 Iraqi Christian refugees entering Czechia. It may be that the Syrian orphans, in spite of the sophisticated argumentation to legitimate their acceptance, were not welcome due to a change in political leadership, reflecting the more intolerant attitude of Andrej Babiš, who became prime minister in 2017, as compared to the more accommodating attitude of Bohuslav Sobotka, who served from 2014-2017, at the height of the migration crisis. Moreover, the relatively unsuccessful integration of the Iraqi refugees in 2016, with less than half remaining in Czechia a year later, could certainly be a contributing factor.

By examining the symbolic boundary work of pro-migration discourse in Czechia, this article has contributed to filling a gap in the academic literature, which primarily focuses on the discourse of those opposed to migration, especially in CEE countries. One of our most surprising findings concerns the widespread boundary blurring and solidifying performed by certain migrant rights advocates based on religious criteria, in interaction with securitisation. Their discourse thus mirrors the very same arguments waged by those desiring the opposite end – stronger restrictions on the acceptance of MRAS in Czechia (e.g. Kluknavská et al., 2017; Krotký, 2019; Messing & Ságvári, 2019; Naxera & Krčál, 2018; Tkaczyk, 2017). Although we cannot generalise our findings to all migrant advocates in Czechia, these initiatives are perhaps emblematic because their narratives have resonated the most both in the media and in the political domain. Fruitful directions for future research in this regard might include the qualitative interviewing of numerous pro-migrant advocates, following a similar methodology as that of Čada and Frantová (2019) in the case of Islamophobic narratives, to investigate to what extent there is a consensus on the discursive strategies and arguments presented by the two initiatives we analysed.

The boundary work performed through symbolic categorisation, binary oppositions, and powerful narratives, has societal consequences. A strong program analysis would hardly be complete without a reflection on the effects of cultural meanings, or ‘just how culture interferes with and directs what really happens’ (Alexander & Smith, 2003, p. 14). What really happens when migration is securitised, is a reluctance to help those fleeing persecution and seeking asylum and refuge, not to mention those escaping other situations such as economic insecurity and climate change. The ultimate lack of success on the part of these two initiatives reflects the broader context of reception for MRAS in Czechia. We have already highlighted the negative opinion among the Czech public and unfavourable portrayals in Czech media. More concretely, the country only accepted 12 refugees under the European quota system. Fears about the potential thirteenth immigrant persist (Junek, 2017). Well after the European migration crisis abated, the issue featured prominently in Czech politics (Jaworsky, 2021). When even the securitisation discourse used by migrant rights advocates is not successful in persuading decision makers, what other discursive strategies might be efficient in changing political will and Czech attitudes towards migration? Obviously, such normative considerations are beyond the scope of this article. Nevertheless, our findings point to the significance of such a question.

This research was financially supported by the student research project ‘Migration and Mobility: Cultural Sociological Perspectives’, project number MUNI/A/1378/2020. We also thank the members of the Center for the Cultural Sociology of Migration at Masaryk University for their helpful feedback and constructive criticism.

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).