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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: The tragedy at Almedalen is an attack on Swedish democracy

Almedalen took place this week in the shadow of Russian military aggression, but on Wednesday it became tragically clear that the immediate danger was from within, says David Crouch

OPINION: The tragedy at Almedalen is an attack on Swedish democracy
People leave flowers at the restaurant terrace in Donners Square in Visby where a woman was stabbed to death on Wednesday. Photo: Henrik Montgomery / TT

Oslo, Copenhagen, and now Visby. Norway, Denmark and Sweden have all witnessed shocking bloodshed in the space of two weeks.

Two were shot dead and about 20 injured when a man opened fire at a gay bar in Oslo on June 25. And on July 3, three were killed and several injured by a gunman at a shopping centre in Copenhagen. 

This time the location was Sweden’s annual festival of politics in Almedalen park on the island of Gotland.

The festival was held this week in the shadow of the Russian military threat, but on Wednesday it became tragically clear that the immediate danger was from within. 

Ing-Marie Wieselgren was stabbed to death at the heart of Almedalen, amid a throng of people there to take part in the week of debates. Wieselgren was one of Sweden’s leading voices on mental health as a national coordinator for SKR, the organisation representing local government.

She took part actively at Almedalen, recording a daily video blog with her thoughts on mental health. Her final words, filmed on the morning of her death, reflect on how we can equip children mentally to deal with life’s ups and downs. It is a grim irony that her killer was likely motivated by her public commitment to mental health issues, according to the prosecutor in the case

But this was more than an isolated assault by a sick man with a grudge. Wieselgren’s murder was an attack on Swedish democracy. Large gatherings where political leaders and public figures mingle with crowds are vulnerable to fanatics. People will think twice before coming to Almedalen again, and those who do will feel a shiver of concern for their own safety. Politicians will wonder if they could be next.

The day before the attack, the chief of Sweden’s security police, Säpo, was at Almedalen, where she spoke to the press. It is not only foreign powers that threaten Sweden, Charlotte von Essen said: “The climate of debate is polarised and extremism is growing within it, which can lead to violent extremism. The threat comes from both violent Islamist extremism and right-wing extremism. There are individuals who have both the intention and the ability to carry out an assassination.”

Swedish media were quick to pick up on connections between Wednesday’s killer and the neo-Nazi Nordic Resistance Movement (Nordiska motståndsrörelse), or NMR. The man was active in the NMR for several years until at least 2018, writing for its website and taking part in its demonstrations, according to Expo, which monitors the extreme right. 

While the NMR had no visible presence at this year’s Almedalen, the festival has had a problem with the organisation’s aggressive behaviour in recent years. In 2017 there was uproar when the neo-Nazis were allowed to formally take part in Almedalen for the first time. In 2018, NMR supporters assaulted a woman, while its uniformed thugs marched through the town and interrupted Centre Party leader Annie Lööf’s speech with shouts of “traitor”. The following year, gay and trans rights organisation RFSL pulled out of the event because of neo-Nazi threats.

Although police said the NMR connection is not a central focus of their investigation, the Almedalen killer’s recent background with the neo-Nazis can be no coincidence. The organisation is imbued with violence and a hatred for liberal democracy – hardly surprising given its ideology. Participants in NMR demonstrations are often uniformed and armed with long staves and shields. In 2016-17 the organisation’s supporters were involved in a series of deadly attacks, including planting bombs at homes for asylum seekers and an anarchist bookshop.

A few hours after Wednesday’s tragedy, a visibly shaken Annie Lööf delivered her scheduled speech to Almedalen. She praised the police, ambulance workers and bystanders who had helped capture the attacker and tried to save Wieselgren’s life. She drew a connection between the horror of what had happened and the daily horrors inflicted by the Russian army on Ukrainians.

Echoing the words of Moderate party leader Fredrik Reinfeldt at Almedalen eight years ago, she praised those who “open their hearts”, homes and schools to Ukrainian refugees. 

The very fact that Lööf’s speech went ahead was a signal that this deep wound to Sweden’s body politic can heal. The country is familiar with violence aimed at politicians and politics. From the shooting of prime minister Olof Palme outside a cinema in 1986 to the 2003 stabbing of foreign minister Anna Lindh on the steps of a department store, Swedes know what the shock of an assassination in a public place feels like. 

Each time, after the mourning and soul-searching, Sweden has recovered from these blows and maintained its tradition of openness. When Uzbek asylum seeker Rakhmat Akilov drove a truck through shoppers in central Stockholm in April 2017, killing five and maiming many more, he was motivated by the hatred of Islamic State for western values. But the crowds of people who came out onto the streets the following day were clear about the importance of defending their freedoms.

A popular political event like Almedalen can never be 100% safe, and no democracy can ever promise total security to its citizens. That is the price we pay for the freedoms we normally take for granted. Ing-Marie Wieselgren will not be forgotten. Next year’s Almedalen will take place in defiance of violence, in defiance of extremism, and with an even greater appreciation of the event’s broader significance as a symbol of Swedish openness and democracy. 

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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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: Swedes, it’s time to embrace language barriers, not avoid them

In a recent article in Dagens Nyheter, journalist Alex Schulman praises the Danish coach of Sweden's football team for speaking English in press conferences. Wouldn't it be better to embrace the Danish-Swedish language barrier, instead of avoiding it, asks The Local's deputy editor Becky Waterton.

OPINION: Swedes, it's time to embrace language barriers, not avoid them

For most immigrants, language barriers are a fact of life. Whether that’s trying to decipher the syllables of a Swedish sentence as a new learner or being met with a blank stare when we try to order a coffee for the first time in Swedish, it’s a natural part of getting to know a new country.

Swedes, on the other hand, seem to find language barriers intensely awkward, doing whatever they can to either avoid them or pretend they don’t exist.

One example is a new learner of Swedish speaking a heavily accented or grammatically incorrect version of the language, which may be difficult to understand. Often, a Swede facing this scenario will switch to English or plough through the conversation pretending they understand the other person’s broken Swedish, either out of fear of offending or in order to save face. 

Neither of these solutions are really ideal, as they both deprive the new learner of Swedish a chance to improve, which perpetuates the language barrier itself, and can even make communication impossible if the person speaking broken Swedish doesn’t understand any English at all.

How will you ever learn that you’re saying something wrong in Swedish to the extent that it’s incomprehensible if everyone around you just pretends they understand you or never corrects you?

This also applies to pan-Scandinavian communication, where journalist and author Alex Schulman is firmly in the “switch to English” camp. 

In a recent article in Dagens Nyheter, Schulman mentions attending a book fair in Copenhagen, where he struggled to communicate with his Danish editor in the taxi from the airport. This inability to understand Danish only becomes more obvious when he gets up on stage for an interview in Danish.

“It was parodical, obviously. The interviewer asked questions, which I didn’t understand, and then I answered completely different things in Swedish, which she didn’t understand, in front of an audience who didn’t understand anything,” he writes.

He mentions this like it’s a funny anecdote – and to be fair, he might be exaggerating for comedic effect – but I can’t help but feel it would have been better for everyone if he’d just been honest about the language barrier in advance, instead of going all the way to Copenhagen to apparently waste the time of his editor, interviewer and audience by clearly not being able to communicate with them. 

Now, my issue is not that he can’t understand Danish – the two languages are considered mutually intelligible, but in reality many Scandinavians find it hard to understand each other without making any effort – but surely he knew in advance that they would be speaking Danish? 

Would it not have been better to say “hey, I’m not great at Danish, so you might need to speak a bit slower, or is it possible for you to repeat some of the questions in English?”, or to listen to a few Danish podcasts or radio shows in advance to get an ear for the language, instead of just pretending to know what everyone is saying?

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Isn’t the best response when meeting a language barrier working together to overcome it? 

I saw a great example of this in an unlikely place – the new series of Swedish gardening show Trädgårdstider.

Former host Tareq Taylor, a Swede, had to move to Stockholm last year and drop out of the show, which is filmed hours away in Skåne. His replacement is Danish chef and TV presenter Adam Aamann, who doesn’t speak Swedish. The other three hosts, Malin Persson, Pernilla Månsson Colt and John Taylor (no relation), don’t speak Danish, they speak Swedish.

The hosts of Trädgårdstider from left to right: Pernilla Månsson Colt, Malin Persson, Adam Aamann and John Taylor. Photo: Niklas Forshell/SVT

Of course, the group could have switched to English when Aamann was around, but in a preview for next week’s episode (Tuesday 8pm on SVT1 or SVTPlay), I found it refreshing how public broadcaster SVT has chosen to stand up for Scandinavian mutual intelligibility, with the Swedes speaking Swedish and the Dane speaking Danish (with Swedish subtitles for viewers at home, but it’s a start at least).

This isn’t without its issues – Taylor and Aamann have a moment of confusion when trying to figure out what different vegetables are called in each language – but instead of giving up entirely, they work together to overcome the barrier.

Sure, they use English as a helping hand in communication – Taylor, who is English, gives Aamann the English name of one vegetable when he realises Swedish isn’t working – but once they’ve figured out the issue, the pair switch back to their Scandinavian languages.

This also has an extra benefit for both of them, as not only do they get over the linguistic hurdle, but in not switching directly to English they also learn the word for the vegetable in question in each other’s languages too, meaning that they won’t come across this particular language barrier with each other or with another speaker of Danish or Swedish again.

It also takes the audience into account – instead of switching to English and alienating any viewers who don’t speak it, they stick to their Scandinavian languages and will hopefully increase the Swedish audience’s understanding of Danish, too.

In Schulman’s article, he describes his relief when the new Danish coach of the Swedish football team, Jon Dahl Tomasson, announced that he was planning to speak English, instead of Danish, in press conferences in Sweden.

“It was so refreshing, because suddenly, there he stood – a Dane who you could understand for the first time in your life.”

The new Danish coach of Sweden’s national football team, Jon Dahl Tomasson. Photo: Stefan Jerrevång/TT

“I’ve been so happy that I’m at the point of tears, because I think Tomasson’s decision could set a new standard, I think this will give Swedes confidence. We’re building a new relationship with Denmark now, and in that relationship the language we use is English. It’s a relationship where we understand each other for the first time,” he writes.

I’m glad Schulman can understand a Dane for the first time, but I think he’s missing the point somewhat.

If Swedes and Danes speaking their own languages actively tried – together – to understand each other when they come across language barriers between the two languages instead of immediately turning to English, they’d be much better at actually understanding each other’s language in the first place, and the shared work to overcome the barrier would probably bring them closer, too.

English can be a useful tool to aid comprehension, but if you just switch to it whenever you come across the smallest amount of resistance in a conversation, you’re perpetuating language barriers when you could be breaking them down together.

Language barriers are an opportunity rather than an embarrassing moment we should pretend to ignore. We’ll only learn how to speak to each other in a way that everyone understands if we’re honest with each other about the communication issues we have.

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