SWEDEN’S IDENTITY CRISIS
A flood of immigrants has forced it to examine its values
Second of two parts It’s a tale of two flags, in a way.
The red-and-white Danish flag seems to be everywhere in Denmark, especially at birthday celebrations and at cottages.
The blue-and-yellow Swedish flag is not quite so everywhere in Sweden, particularly not on Sweden’s national day.
The few people who haul out Swedish flags on June 6 tend to be immigrants, say two Stockholm-based specialists on migration, Andreas Johannson Heino, of the Timbro think-tank, and Anna Rehnvall, of the Fores think-tank.
These different degrees of flag waving may illustrate contrasting approaches to national identity in Sweden and Denmark, which are frequently ranked the world’s most “livable” or “happiest” (Canada also often hits the top 10).
While Danes have long discussed what it means to be Danish, the same cannot be said for Swedes.
The two Swedish social analysts say their country only began focusing on national identity after last year’s refugee crisis, in which Sweden was deluged with 162,000 asylum seekers (the highest rate per capita in Europe).
The flood of would-be refugees, which has been slowed by installing the first border checks between Sweden and Denmark since 1954, has provoked new fears, says Rehnvall.
After years of being avoided, immigration has turned into Sweden’s No. 1 concern.
The first of this two-part series dealt with how asylum seekers are threatening Sweden’s tax-supported welfare, education and health systems.
This piece explores how Swedes and Danes are dealing with conflicting attitudes about their national identities, about who they are.
The Nordic countries of Sweden, Denmark (and Norway) are much admired.
Culturally, Sweden is the land of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Wallander, not to mention the Nobel Prizes, Ikea and, in earlier years, Abba and Ingmar Bergman. While Sweden and Denmark collaborated to create Skype and the TV series The Bridge, Denmark is known on its own for The Hunt, Borgen and the top restaurant, Noma, not to mention Maersk shipping and Legoland.
Danes and Swedes are generally more egalitarian, communitarian and environmentally committed than Canadians. Both countries feature wind turbines, universal daycare, shared-gender washrooms, innovative businesses and “free” higher education.
But Swedes and Danes differ on migration and multiculturalism.
Historically, Heino said, the Danish approach to migrants has been: “Welcome to Denmark. We don’t condemn your old culture, but in Denmark here are the rules you follow.”
On the other hand, Heino said Swedes’ self-effacing attitude to migrants has been: “Welcome to Sweden. We don’t know what kind of culture we are.”
As Rehnvall puts it, Sweden basically informs migrants: “You’re now Swedish, if you want to be.”
Both Heino and Rehnvall said Swedes don’t generally wave flags on their national day (even while some post flags at cottages) because they don’t want migrants to “feel excluded.”
The irony is many immigrants and refugees bring out the Swedish flag because they want to feel they belong to something.
The Swedish paradox over national identity should sound familiar to Canadians.
Too many Swedes (like, I would say, Canadians) believe that focusing on Swedish culture is a “zero-sum game,” Heino said. “They think if someone talks about what it means to be Swedish, it leaves less room for new groups.”
The divergent Swedish and Danish approaches to national identity seem to manifest in their cityscapes.
Both countries are replete with what Canadians would call “heritage buildings,” but Denmark’s cities seem to have more unique shops and local-cuisine restaurants.
Maybe it’s too subjective an observation, but Stockholm feels a tad less distinct than Copenhagen. Stockholm feels a bit more like a Canadian city, with more brand-name outlets and multinational chain restaurants, often serving beef or pizza.
In the 1970s, Sweden’s leaders admired and followed Canada’s policy of multiculturalism, says Heino, author of three Swedish-language books on migration, and Rehnvall, who has consulted with the Conference Board of Canada.
Swedes have for decades had a generally positive view of migration in part because of their “neutrality,” which meant its industries thrived during and after the Second World War, when Sweden imported foreign workers.
Now, more than 16 per cent of Sweden’s population is foreign-born, compared with eight per cent in Denmark — and 21 per cent in Canada.
In contrast to Sweden, Denmark has for a while gone the way of most of Europe, says Vancouver-raised political scientist Eric Kaufmann, of the Birkbeck University of London.
In Denmark and Europe, where most politicians are promising to cut migration levels, Kaufmann said political correctness on multiculturalism and laissez-faire “tolerance” is under attack.
Sweden and Canada, however, have until recently been on a similar road. Kaufmann believes both believe in their “exceptionalism;” in thinking they can handle high migration levels other nations cannot.
The jury is out, Kaufmann suggests, on whether Swedes and Canadians have been “sublimating” a deeper skepticism about high migration.
One of the reasons Swedes have, until perhaps now, seemed open to migration and multiculturalism could relate to lingering guilt brought on by 200 years of Swedish military neutrality.
“Sweden didn’t help their neighbours” during the Second World War, including Denmark, said Rehnvall. “A lot of people believe we should have.”
Many Canadians, in a somewhat similar way, feel guilty because they are descendants of settlers and immigrants (who occupied aboriginal land).
But Sweden’s open-heartedness may be passing. Last ear’s asylum-seeker crisis has led to a Swedish economic squeeze and cross-cultural conflicts. They include a spate of highly publicized sexual assaults committed by newly arrived migrants from Syria and Afghanistan, particularly at Swedish swimming pools and festivals.
The Sweden Democrat party, which promises to temporarily stop all immigration, has hit 25 per cent in polls. Could a migration crisis in Canada, Kaufmann asks, cause a similar shift?
Despite Swedes’ and Canadians’ pangs of guilt, Heino and Rehnvall are pleased Swedes have finally begun talking about “Swedish values.” Sweden “lacks symbols and lacks a narrative,” said Heino.
What might be some Swedish symbols or values?
Heino suggests a big one is gender equality, which challenges migrants from patriarchal nations. He also cited the principles of secularism and liberalism.
For her part, Rehnvall said Swedish values include participatory democracy, environmental protection, redistributing wealth and protecting the “public domain,” including allowing citizens access to rural private property.
While both Heino and Rehnvall were quick to say many of these are “Western” or even “universal” standards, I’d suggest that Sweden, Denmark and other Nordic countries excel at upholding these values.
Many of these same principles are under threat in Canada (and especially B.C.), where political values have become increasingly libertarian and dog-eat-dog, leading to a widening gap between the rich and the rest.
Can Canada learn from Sweden, and Denmark, that, at the least, it’s time for a frank national discussion about migration and the values that go into our national identity?
Both Heino and Rehnvall are relieved the time seems to have come for even selfdeprecating Swedes to refine the debate over what it means to be Swedish.
“Finally,” Rehnvall said, “everybody is talking about Swedish distinctiveness, about who should be included. The debate is starting to mature.”
Finally, everybody is talking about Swedish distinctiveness, about who should be included. The debate is starting to mature. ANN ARE H NV ALL, Swedish social analyst