As Sweden’s immigration policies take a dramatic turn, panic grows among Swedish families and asylum seekers to Sweden. Yet the nation has quickly, systematically, and unapologetically broadened its system of reception and return. These improvements are supposed to help process up to 11,000 asylum seekers. But as attitudes toward immigration have stiffened, a surprising number of people—many of whom have built long lives in Sweden—now find themselves under the sword of deportation.
The ruling centre-right government is propped up by the support of the far-right Sweden Democrats. Instead, they lobby to change priorities, lobbying to market Sweden as a place for labor immigration before marketing to asylum seekers. This change in policy is evident in the government’s recent measures and statements, which underscore a commitment to decreasing the number of asylum seekers entering the nation.
One of the primary facilities used in this transition is Sweden’s asylum return center near Stockholm’s Arlanda airport. This open air center, open to all passersby, serves as a temporary home to in-transit newcomers and a deportation center for many. The government is trumpeting a historic decline in asylum applications – the lowest levels since 1985. The rationale behind this drastic cut, officials say, is to improve integration outcomes for all refugees.
The reality on the ground for many people is quite the opposite. Thousands of these long-term residents arrived to Sweden decades ago, built productive lives, and actively contributed to Swedish society. Now, they live under the very real threat of being deported to their countries of origin. One of them is Sofiye, an asylum seeker from Uzbekistan. She moved to Sweden in 2008, rooted down, started a family, and is now facing deportation within a matter of days.
I came to Sweden believing this was a country that respected human rights: where are they? Sofiye shared her despair about the condition of her life, caught in the limbo of waiting for news about her fate.
Like that couple, life is upended for Thamer, a 52-year-old Iraqi refugee and his family. After their asylum applications were denied and work visas expired, they too are faced with deportation. Thamer’s youngest son, 18-year-old Hamza, was born in Sweden and has no other life outside its borders.
“There are people who’ve grown up in Sweden for 30 years, but they wouldn’t speak Swedish as well as me,” explained Thamer. His story opened up the discussion on the hardships that refugees face trying to get established, yet still fighting the battle of lawful status.
The national Swedish migration agency has reported it has taken steps to ensure that reception centers provide for children. Millions of families are still fearful of what comes next. There’s a tremendous amount of fear, a tremendous amount of anxiety,” said Nannie Sköld, an advocate for asylum seekers. She highlighted how those seeking refuge often express feelings of betrayal: “Many people that we meet say to us: ‘We came to Sweden believing this was a country that respected human rights: where are they?’”
Sköld emphasized that the scope of people impacted goes far beyond those escaping from war. It includes those fleeing persecution for their sexual orientation or ethnic background. “We meet people who are fleeing from the Taliban or they are LGBTQ from Uganda, and who then see that their request for international protection is denied,” she said.
The Swedish government has made it clear that its immigration policies reflect a desire for those coming to the country to integrate fully. “If you do not want to become part of this community, you should not come to Sweden,” officials have stated. This opposition leads to troubling questions about what will happen to existing long-term residents. Sofiye and Thamer are already well on their way to becoming transformational members of Swedish society.
“For Sofiye, losing her work rights has been a nightmare come true. ‘What else could I have done? … How could I possibly prove my worth if even doing everything that is supposedly correct isn’t enough and will never be enough?’ she lamented.”
The Swedish government is currently leading the charge against harsh immigration measures. Because of this, families such as Sofiye’s and Thamer’s are left vulnerable at a moment’s notice when unexpected circumstances arise. Their stories paint a picture of the human cost of political decisions and the moral dilemmas at the heart of this immigration crisis in Sweden.