I’m lucky to be living most of the time now in Sweden; always regarded as the ‘shining city on the hill’ by us old Labourites, even by those – like me – who had never visited the place, but had read about the near-perfection of its ‘social democracy’. When I started coming here in the 1990s (for other reasons), I was not disappointed; and still am not after nearly 30 years. It’s a highly civilised country, with efficient industries, excellent public services, strong trade unions, general equality, an almost universal sense of social responsibility, good and affordable health care, farmers brought into the cities with their tractors in winter to shift the snow, free university education, universal and state-funded parental (not just maternal) leave, humane prisons, clean streets, a cashless system for buying things (‘Swish’ – all you need is your mobile phone), and doctors’ prescriptions computerised – so we can get them at any Apotek. For those of us who miss ‘home’ (pathetically), there are English pubs all over, with names like the Friar Tuck, the Beefeater, and the Old Brewery, a couple of them serving Sunday roasts… I could go on. And of course we have masses of unspoilt nature, urban beauty, long warm summer days, and natives who are polite and friendly, and generally speak better English than we do.
Of course it’s not perfect. Winter’s a bit of a bugger; but houses are treble-glazed to keep us warm. The native food, although usually healthy, as you might expect here, is not always to my taste (raw herring and meatballs); but there are some excellent Indian and Thai restaurants around, and I can of course cook for us: Kajsa particularly likes my Shepherd’s Pie and Lancashire Hotpot. (And I’m getting a taste for the herring: not strictly ‘raw’, in fact, but marinated in vinegar.) There are beggars – supposedly Romanians – sitting outside tunnelbana stations. The state can seem a little intrusive – but I’ve become comfortable with that, and it helps when we’re filling out our tax forms – see the end of my 20 November post. We’re struggling just now with a minor case of misplaced bureaucracy (a parking charge; Kajsa doesn’t even own a motor-bike!); but we’ll soon sort that. The taxes are a bit higher; but only a bit, and look what we get for them! Pubs and restaurants are relatively expensive, but mainly because they pay decent wages to their staff. There are very occasional far Right demos: an anti-Fascist meeting Kajsa had helped to arrange was attacked by one of them a few weeks ago, but when their masks slipped they turned out to be adolescent boys. On the whole it’s pretty good here for most of us – apart perhaps from the Romanians. The ‘Swedish model’ seems to be working still; standing almost alone (together with the other Nordic countries) against the global neo-liberal tsunami that broke over other countries in Thatcher’s and Reagan’s time.
But ominous clouds are forming, even over this ‘shining city’ of mine. We no longer have a Social Democratic government, but a centre-Right coalition being pushed to the further Right by the relatively new ‘Sweden Democrats’ – ex-Nazis – who are close in their political philosophies to Trump, Farage, the AfD, and similar tendencies in France, Italy, Hungary and elsewhere. ‘Free’ schools – free to their students but owned by and run as businesses – are often problematical. Privatisation is creeping in other fields. State subsidies for culture and even newspapers – keeping the latter free from the right-wing bias that pervades the British press – have been drastically reduced. Sweden’s generous citizenship laws are being stiffened; if I had waited much longer to apply for it, my own (dual) nationality might not have been granted now. And on the wider political front, Sweden has just joined NATO, which she had pointedly avoided for eighty years. That may have been a good or a bad decision; but while her ‘neutrality’ lasted it had reinforced her image of difference from the rest of the world.
Today’s advance of the extreme Right – nationalism, racism, sexism and the rest – is of course a global phenomenon. I came to Sweden partly to escape it. (I call myself a ‘Brexit refugee’.) So far I remain happy with that decision. But will I feel the same about it in five years’ time (if I last that long)? The auguries are not clear.
Porter’s Pensées 