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IMMIGRATION

Opinion: Sweden’s migration law is a blow to Swedes and their families overseas

Debate around a new migration law rarely touches on one group severely affected by strict rules; Swedish citizens and their families overseas, writes Lena Wickman.

Opinion: Sweden's migration law is a blow to Swedes and their families overseas
Current laws means many international families have to choose between family separation or staying in their second homeland. File photo: Anna Hållams/imagebank.sweden.se

The Migration Committee will soon have its plan ready for the future of Swedish migration policy. It is intended to be long-term and sustainable, and the MPs have a big responsibility on their shoulders.

The media is full of articles on the subject, which for the most part are about targets, quotas on the number of refugees who can be accepted each year, what qualifies as a reason for asylum.

But what I'm wondering is, where are we Swedes abroad in this politically polarised issue?

In 2016, when a temporary migration law was introduced, we discovered that from one day to the next a return to Sweden had transformed from not only entailing the usual stresses that come with a move across continents, but also a bureaucratic nightmare.

As if we had stepped on a poorly placed banana peel, we had slipped into the queue for asylum seekers at the Migration Agency. It took a while to grasp this new reality.

In short, it means that a Swedish citizen with a partner from a non-EU country must now comply with the Migration Agency's requirements for housing and income before the non-EU partner can come to Sweden. That's if they have been granted a residence permit.

For this to be possible, the family has to live apart during the time it takes for the Migration Agency to process their case. Up to two years at the time of writing.

The man on the street seems to be completely unaware of this situation, as do the majority of politicians. Expressions of surprise and outright skepticism are the most common reactions.

If you do find someone who is aware of how we are forced into family separation in order to relocate, it's almost impossible to get an explanation as to why we are treated in this way.

Including Swedish citizens in a law that is not intended for them, but without being able to explain its purpose – you might say it's the height of ignorance and incompetence of those who put these laws in place.

Many Swedes choose not to expose their families to this separation. Understandably. It's both an emotional and economic sacrifice. Instead, they stay in their other home country, and the reasons for a potential relocation are set aside. Sweden is thus losing out on a group of people with valuable experiences and skills.

And now the Migration committee is deciding how our future will look. Do Swedes overseas have reason to be optimistic about the future?

For those who know what the different political parties dangled in front of Swedes abroad in the 2018 election, it feels like a land of milk and honey.

But is that really the case? Or should we be realistic and realise that the Migration Committee is busy reaching an agreement on volume targets, refugee quotas, and reasons for asylum.

We Swedes abroad will have to choose between keeping our families together in a country that isn't Sweden, or the unattractive prospect of family separation. And if that's the case then in 2022, when our overseas votes are attractive once again, we can look forward to empty promises about what's perceived as attractive for the 660,000 Swedes abroad.

Personally I think that if Swedes abroad will be covered by a law on housing and income requirements, which creates a painful and unnecessary family separation, someone should be able to explain the purpose of this. Anything else is inhumane.

This opinion piece was written by Lena Wickman, first published in Swedish on Aftonbladet (read the original here) and translated into English by The Local.

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FOOD AND DRINK

OPINION: Are tips in Sweden becoming the norm?

Should you tip in Sweden? Habits are changing fast thanks to new technology and a hard-pressed restaurant trade, writes James Savage.

OPINION: Are tips in Sweden becoming the norm?

The Local’s guide to tipping in Sweden is clear: tip for good service if you want to, but don’t feel the pressure: where servers in the US, for instance, rely on tips to live, waiters in Sweden have collectively bargained salaries with long vacations and generous benefits. 

But there are signs that this is changing, and the change is being accelerated by card machines. Now, many machines offer three preset gratuity percentages, usually starting with five percent and going up to fifteen or twenty. Previously they just asked the customer to fill in the total amount they wanted to pay.

This subtle change to a user interface sends a not-so-subtle message to customers: that tipping is expected and that most people are probably doing it. The button for not tipping is either a large-lettered ‘No Tip’ or a more subtle ‘Fortsätt’ or ‘Continue’ (it turns out you can continue without selecting a tip amount, but it’s not immediately clear to the user). 

I’ll confess, when I was first presented with this I was mildly irked: I usually tip if I’ve had table service, but waiting staff are treated as professionals and paid properly, guaranteed by deals with unions; menu prices are correspondingly high. The tip was a genuine token of appreciation.

But when I tweeted something to this effect (a tweet that went strangely viral), the responses I got made me think. Many people pointed out that the restaurant trade in Sweden is under enormous pressure, with rising costs, the after-effects of Covid and difficulties recruiting. And as Sweden has become more cosmopolitain, adding ten percent to the bill comes naturally to many.

Boulebar, a restaurant and bar chain with branches around Sweden and Denmark, had a longstanding policy of not accepting tips at all, reasoning that they were outdated and put diners in an uncomfortable position. But in 2021 CEO Henrik Kruse decided to change tack:

“It was a purely financial decision. We were under pressure due to Covid, and we had to keep wages down, so bringing back tips was the solution,” he said, adding that he has a collective agreement and staff also get a union bargained salary, before tips.

Yet for Kruse the new machines, with their pre-set tipping percentages, take things too far:

“We don’t use it, because it makes it even clearer that you’re asking for money. The guest should feel free not to tip. It’s more important for us that the guest feels free to tell people they’re satisfied.”

But for those restaurants that have adopted the new interfaces, the effect has been dramatic. Card processing company Kassacentralen, which was one of the first to launch this feature in Sweden, told Svenska Dagbladet this week that the feature had led to tips for the average establishment doubling, with some places seeing them rise six-fold.

Even unions are relaxed about tipping these days, perhaps understanding that they’re a significant extra income for their members. Union representatives have often in the past spoken out against tipping, arguing that the practice is demeaning to staff and that tips were spread unevenly, with staff in cafés or fast food joints getting nothing at all. But when I called the Swedish Hotel and Restaurant Union (HRF), a spokesman said that the union had no view on the practice, and it was a matter for staff, business owners and customers to decide.

So is tipping now expected in Sweden? The old advice probably still stands; waiters are still not as reliant on tips as staff in many other countries, so a lavish tip is not necessary. But as Swedes start to tip more generously, you might stick out if you leave nothing at all.

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