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SWEDISH TRADITIONS

OPINION: Seven things that make Sweden magnificently different

As we gather for Midsummer, Sweden’s unofficial national day, here are seven things we should celebrate about the country that mark it out from the rest, says David Crouch.

OPINION: Seven things that make Sweden magnificently different
Photo: Per Bifrost/imagebank.sweden.se

With Sweden preparing to abandon its final vestiges of neutrality to become a Nato member, many are asking whether the country is losing the features that have helped to make it distinctively different as a nation. As we gather for Midsummer – Sweden’s unofficial national day – here are seven things we should celebrate about our home that mark the country out from the rest:

1. Midsummer itself

Imagine having a national holiday that has all the cultural significance of Christmas in Europe or Eid in the Muslim world, but which takes place outside when the sun never sets. That, in a nutshell, is Midsummer – all the anticipation, ornament and tradition of a big religious festival, but without the religion and on a day that goes on and on forever. The whole country moves outdoors and mingles with family, friends and neighbours. It’s like an annual street-party with added singing, dancing, garlands and games. 

Like many Swedish festivals, Midsummer has Christian roots, originating in celebrations to mark the birthday of St John the Baptist (June 24). But that date handily coincides with the summer solstice and a moment when nature is at its best. Christianity fought it out with paganism, and paganism won. The roots of Midsummer traditions are centuries old, but now the only worship that takes place is veneration of the season and exaltation at being alive. This, in theory at least, makes Midsummer a very inclusive festival that reaches over boundaries of creed, colour, age, class or political outlook.

Photo: Anna Hållams/imagebank.sweden.se

So when you raise a glass of aquavit or skewer a chunk of pickled herring this Friday, you are doing more than enjoying the moment – you are celebrating an aspect of life that is quintessentially Swedish.

2. Support for working families 

When I describe to people back home in Britain the Swedish system of support for families with small children, they go green with envy. I am sure you know the stats already, but it’s worth writing them down, printing them out, nailing them to a piece of wood and making a small shrine in the corner of your living room. Then you should light a candle at the shrine every time you drop off your child at the well-funded kindergarten at 7am, or use one of the 120 days a year you get paid to be at home with the child when it is sick, or whenever you take one of the 480 days paid parental leave you get with each offspring. 

It is usually assumed that this is all a residue of Sweden’s leftist past, but that is only one side of the picture. It is true that Olof Palme, the country’s emblematic left-wing leader, talked in the 1970s about the need to “provide children with a stimulating and diversified environment” outside the home and strengthen “women’s ambitions to achieve equality in working life”. But in fact it was centre-right governments in the mid 70s and early 90s who really watered the seeds that Palme had sown. Sweden’s liberals saw gender inequality as inefficient and a brake on the economy. So the system of early years childcare and parental leave is actually a great Swedish national achievement.

The cost of childcare is capped in Sweden, so you’ll never pay more than a certain figure. Photo: Gorm Kallestad/NTB scanpix/TT

3. A melting pot 

Love it or loath it (lots of Swedes do), immigration to Sweden is a fact of life. According to this year’s numbers, just over one-third of registered inhabitants of this country have some sort of foreign background, namely they were born abroad or born here to a foreign-born parent – although this also includes those born abroad to Swedish parents. A quarter of the population has a language other than Swedish or one of Sweden’s minority languages as their mother tongue – that’s the highest proportion of any country in the world. 

The transformation from a largely monocultural society has taken place at lightning speed, during barely three decades. One in five of today’s Swedes were born abroad, putting Sweden in 6th or 7th place in the world in terms of the proportion of foreign-born people after Luxembourg, Australia, Switzerland, New Zealand and Israel. The proportion of non-white Swedes is at least 20% (30% among children and young people), which means that Sweden is in 3rd or 4th place in the western world after the USA, Australia, and possibly France.

Speaking personally, I find this hugely stimulating and exciting. Large-scale immigration comes with lots of challenges, but if Sweden can only get it right, it could be a beacon to the world. 

4. The hidden welfare state 

We all know about Sweden’s famous tax-payer funded welfare state, which is now rather frayed around the edges thanks to several decades of upheaval (with the possible exception of childcare, see above). But the country also has a set of large and powerful institutions that together constitute a “hidden” welfare state that even many Swedes are barely aware of. These are the organisations of the omställningssystemet, or transition system. 

A large majority of Swedish companies typically pay 0.3 per cent of their wage bill each year into the trygghetsfonder, or job security councils, which are run by the trade unions. TRR, one of the largest agencies, is backed by about 35,000 private sector companies with nearly 1 million employees – almost a quarter of the workforce. If you lose your job, a job security council will be there to give you counselling and training to help you get back into the workforce as quickly and painlessly as possible. 

The transition system is an important part of explaining how Sweden’s economy maintains its global competitiveness. Helping the unemployed back into work, enabling them to improve their skills or recover from the stresses of redundancy, has a strong economic rationale. It makes it much easier for companies to downsize, restructure, and even close factories altogether. This is a great Swedish invention, and one that deserves much more recognition internationally. 

A customer buying spirits at Systembolaget. Photo: Isabell Höjman/TT

5. Systembolaget 

Love it or loath it (most Swedes love it), the state alcohol monopoly is a fact of life. In a country that has privatised almost everything that can’t be nailed down – including the postal service, the trains, telephones, schools, elderly care and aviation – Systembolaget sticks out like a sore thumb. As a result, it is easier to find somewhere to play a round of golf in Sweden than a shop where you can buy a bottle of wine over the counter. 

It is paternalistic, moralistic, clumsy and exasperating. But Systembolaget is also a caring institution that represents society as a whole taking responsibility for citizens who are vulnerable to the ill-effects of a dangerous drug. If only the same principle was applied to gambling or pornography, for example, the world would be a better place. More broadly, Systembolaget is an embodiment of public service, an unfashionable but essential element of any functioning society. Hooray for Systembolaget, a great Swedish invention!

6. Gadgets and gizmos

If you have played a game on your telephone today, listened to music online, or video-called a friend, the chances are that you have used technology from a Swedish company. You can bid on a house via SMS, and credit a friend’s bank account instantly with your mobile phone. In the European Commission’s 2021 European Innovation Scoreboard, Sweden again ranked as the most innovative country in the EU, just as it has done ever since the index began in 2001.

The country has far more world-leading tech companies than it should in relation to its population. During this century, Stockholm has developed more billion-dollar tech companies, known as “unicorns”, than any other city in Europe. Successes include names such as Spotify, Skype, iZettle, Klarna, Trustly, Mojang and King. Sweden is currently in a sweet spot for innovative enterprise, creating a fertile environment for people who want to turn ideas into stuff that can actually change the world. 

7. Work-life balance 

In Sweden, 25 days holiday a year are enshrined in law. That means anything less is illegal, irrespective of your age or what you do for a living. Many jobs come with more days off than the statutory minimum. And for many employees, neither weekends, bank holidays (röda dagar), Easter, Pentecost, Midsummer, Christmas or New Year’s Eve are counted as part of your 25 days.

This is a great start for anyone seeking a healthy balance between work and home life. During their frequent days off, Swedes don’t sit around watching daytime TV. The concept of friluftsliv, or open-air life, is deeply embedded in Swedish culture and means spending time in the great outdoors for spiritual and physical wellbeing. The country boasts 25 organisations with 1.7 million members based on friluftsliv, while around a third of Swedes engage in outdoor activities at least once a week. This is closely linked to allemansrätten, the legal right of public access to anywhere in nature. 

But what about all that other crazy Swedish stuff?

I have tried to sum up those features of life in Sweden that are fundamental, structural, or so deeply engrained that one cannot imagine any major change taking place without some sort of major upheaval. But I am sure I have overlooked some things. Do please write to The Local with your suggestions for other reasons to celebrate Sweden and Swedishness here: [email protected] 

David Crouch is the author of Almost Perfekt: How Sweden Works and What Can We Learn From It. He is a freelance journalist and a lecturer in journalism at Gothenburg University.

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SWEDISH TRADITIONS

Why Swedish fermented herring is more fun than crayfish

There's spectacle: opening each can is fraught with danger. Self-discovery: can you stomach this slimy, stinky fish? And all that snaps and singing too. Surströmming parties beat crayfish ones hands down, argues The Local's Richard Orange.

Why Swedish fermented herring is more fun than crayfish

It was my wife’s idea. Some sort of tribute, I think, to her parents’ origins on the coast of Västernorrland, home to the main producers of Sweden’s intriguing fermented herring delicacy.

Surströmming for real,” she wrote in her invite. “All the trimmings. No messing about with alternative food. A party for those who love surströmming or want to try it properly. Not for those disgusted by the idea or who know that they hate surströmming, nor for those who wonder if we might be able to prepare something else. A true culinary and social experience.”

EDITOR’S PICK:

In the end, only one of her many invitees – a former Lund university colleague still deeply involved in the institution’s odd traditions, societies and fellowships – took her up on the offer.

After I’d invited Emma, The Local’s editor, and absolutely everyone else I know, we eventually managed to cobble together ten guests willing to explore Sweden’s most extreme taste frontier.

We laid the table out according to tradition, with mandelpotatis, or “almond potatoes”, lots of finely chopped red onion, tunnbröd, or “flatbread”, in both hard and soft varieties, gräddfil sour cream, and an enormous bunch of fresh dill.

I had ordered a can of Rovögerns surströmmingsfilé, made by the the brothers Lars and Björn Lundgren and their friend Lars Eklund, three fishermen turned fermenters from Västerbotten. Their fermented herring had been named “bäst i test” by the Aftonbladet newspaper back in 2018, cost a chunky 325 kronor for 250g, and has since sold out.

Lars and Björn Lundgren, and their friend Lars Eklund, who make Rovögerns surströmming. Photo: Rovögerns surströmming

We then set up a special can-opening table a safe ten metres from the guests, with a plastic bag to catch any unexpected explosions and a silver tray on which to bring the delicacy to the table.

As I prepared to pierce the can, there was a real sense of excitement, both for me and the guests. Once fermented herring is canned, it continues to ferment, meaning gases and pressure can build up. The juices can shoot out, and the gases are famous for their powerful odour.

In the event, it was an anticlimax. This was only two days after the Surströmmingspremiär, the official start to the fermented herring eating season, and the Lundgren brothers had only canned the fish a few weeks previously.

Despite the absence of an explosive build-up, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for the smell to hit me, stomach churning certainly, but no worse than the more mature French cheeses.

“Jag känner vidrigheten komma hit här nu!” exclaimed one of the guests a moment later with a laugh. “I can detect the revoltingness coming over here now!”

The fermented fish is slimier and smellier than the salted variety. Photo: TT

I then did a round of the table, depositing one glistening, slimy filet on top of the potato, sour cream, onion and dill rolls each guest had prepared, and returning the can to safety ten metres away.

The excitement, the smell and the anticipation of the taste, acted as an icebreaker and the party was already high spirited as each guest took their first bite.

I’d eaten fermented herring only once before, for a YouTube video showing the reactions of my Somali, Kurdish, Iranian and Arabic colleagues at Sweden’s public radio broadcaster, and found it surprisingly tasty. This time was no different. Fermentation turns the herring into an umami bomb, the intense fishy flavours cutting through and enhancing the potato, dill and onion. 

We followed up with snaps and a rousing chorus of Helan går, Sweden’s best known drinking song, after which the party became more and more like a kräftskiva, the crayfish-eating parties that are the August entry in every Swede’s social calendar. 

Surstömming is either laid out on a piece of dried flatbread or else rolled up into a ‘klämma’ with potato and sour cream. Photo: TT

For me, though, the surströmming variety was so much better. The excitement of opening the can and the shared experience of eating this traditional and far from ‘lagom’ food, was bonding in a way eating crayfish is not. 

Maybe a few decades ago, eating crayfish felt as special, but with home-grown Swedish crayfish long since replaced for most people by farmed ones imported from China and Turkey, it doesn’t feel so much of a treat. 

Then there’s the joy in celebrating an artisanal tradition which legend suggests goes back to the time of Gustav Vasa, the founder of the modern Swedish state. Apparently, the powerful merchant city of Lübeck cut off supplies of salt to Sweden, because Vasa had failed to pay his debts, forcing herring producers to ferment their fish, which uses less of it. 

We’ll be having another surströmming party next year. 

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