Swedish Language Blog

Last time we talked about Swedish emigration to the US, but what about foreign immigration to Sweden? This is a subject that everybody has an opinion about and when discussing those opinions, tempers can run high, even among normally very reserved Swedes.

I don’t know if as an immigrant myself, I should be even discussing this subject at all. After all, my take on the issue will be vastly different from what a true Svensson might say.

And some people won’t even consider me a “real” immigrant, because as much as I love this country, I do not plan on staying in Sweden for the rest of my life, or becoming en svensk medborgare (a Swedish citizen). Personally, I believe that acquiring foreign citizenship is one issue that should not be taken lightly. Because along with the privileges of a new citizenship also come serious responsibilities, and you can’t have one without the other.

So, what is it like to be an immigrant in Sweden? Impossible to describe it in just one word, so let’s use two: not bad. It’s not entirely good either, because it’s never easy to uproot oneself and settle in a different country.

But compared to many other developed nations, Sweden takes care of its immigrants. It’s a progressive, tolerant country with a live and let-live attitude. It provides services and support to new arrivals that are hard to find in other lands. The ubiquitous SFI (svenska för invandrare) program is but one example (and one that deserves a blog post of its own).

As much as the country has to offer, it is not the land of milk and honey, or cradle to grave welfare, that many misguided new (or potential) arrivals think it to be. You have to work for that welfare, and sometimes finding work can be problematic.

Here’s an interesting article on the subject from The Local. (Yes, I know, I know… but until a new English-speaking media outlet emerges in Sweden, we are stuck with The Local. At least that way I can be sure that even those of you who are not yet fluent in Swedish can understand what is being said.)

And here are a few useful words when talking about immigration:

• medborgare (def. medborgaren, pl. medborgare, def.pl. medborgarna) – person som hör till ett land och har vissa rättigheter och skyldigheter där (en svensk medborgare) – citizen

• medborgarskap (def. medborgarskapet, pl. medborgarskap, def.pl. medborgarskapen) – det att vara medborgare i ett land. (De har ansökt om svenskt medborgarskap.) – citizenship

Obs! Be careful! “Medborgare” is an “en” noun, but “medborgarskap” is an “ett” noun.

• invandrare (def. invandraren, pl. invandrare, def.pl. invandrarna) – person som bor i ett annat land än det där hon/ han är född – immigrant

• flykting (def. flyktingen, pl. flyktingar, def.pl. flyktingarna) – person som har flytt från t.ex. ett krig (till ett annat land) – refugee

A couple of days ago I stumbled upon the Immigration Explorer on The New York Times website and I’m ashamed to admit, I’ve been playing with it like a little kid since.

A few things surprised me, though. One – that the Norwegian and Swedish data have been divided into two groups. Why is it surprising? In other sources, I’ve always seen these countries lumped together under the common label of “Scandinavian” immigration. And since Norway and Sweden used to have this love-hate relationship going on for many centuries, it makes me wonder just how accurate such a “by country” division really is.

Another thing that surprised me was how relatively small-scale the “Scandinavian” immigration was. True, it was immense when compared to the population levels back in those days in Sweden (and in Norway, too). But when you see those immigrants alongside other nations – Italians, Germans, or Poles, for example, then you come to realize how just tiny the Swedish numbers were in comparison.

And here’s another thing that surprised me. We’ve always been taught that those immigrants settled primarily in Minnesota and in the rural Midwest. But when you look at the Immigration Explorer, you can see pockets of Swedes (and Norwegians, too) all over, including California. And surprise, surprise, it looks like Chicago had the largest concentration of Swedish immigrants for several decades.

Still, Minnesota is the place that everyone thinks of when talking about Swedish immigration to the US in the 19th century. That’s the place that Vilhelm Moberg wrote about in his epic series. That’s the place where these days you can meet the quintessential blond, blue-eyed folk, who will cheerfully announce: “Yeah, I’m Swedish!” And then give you a blank stare when you attempt to speak Swedish to them. (That particular American quirk always drove me up the wall. No, you are not Swedish. You are of Swedish origin. There’s a difference.)

But let’s talk about Vilhlem Moberg (1898 – 1973) for a minute. Have you read his books? Or, if not, have you at least seen the movies? And don’t feel bad if you didn’t like the films. Even though the first one was nominated for four Academy Awards, I hated it. I watched it on TV as a kid, and then later on I rented it on video (video! ha! who remembers those days?) when I was all grown up and better prepared to understand the story.

Personally, it was the first book in The Emigrants series, titled simply “Utvandrarna” that broke my heart. The other books in the series are: “Invandrarna”, “Nybyggarna” and “Sista brevet till Sverige”. In a poll conducted by Sveriges television in 1998, the entire series was voted as the most important Swedish books of all time.

I’ve eventually read all four books, but “Utvandrarna” and “Sista brevet till Sverige” are my favorite among them. The whole series should be considered “essential reading”, be it in English, or in Swedish, for any Swedophile. It has a gripping story, historical bits, cultural themes, and enough Scandinavian melancholy to fill buckets. But most of all, it’s also simply great, classic literature.

I’m really happy today. Springtime is here. Well, at least officially, because you wouldn’t know it from looking out the window. And while I’m not a fan of vår (spring) – too much rain and mud for my liking, I am a huge fan of vårdagjämning.

• vårdagjämning (def. vårdagjämningen) – den tidpunkt under våren då dagen och natten är lika långa – omkring den 21 mars.

Well, this year it was on March 20th, because every few years the sun likes to hurry up.
Personally, I prefer vårdagjämning (vernal equinox) to midsommar, because while midsommar might be the longest day of the year, it’s rather depressing when you think about it carefully – after midsommar the days are getting shorter – what’s there to celebrate?

And vårdagjämning is nothing but TRUE joy and happiness, as every SAD (vinterdepression, seasonal affective disorder) sufferer can tell you – the days are getting longer!

Soon the night will be banished altogether (at least up here in the North) and we can enjoy glorious daylight around the clock.
But ancient Vikings apparently did not share my sentiment, instead of vårdagjämning, they saved the really big bash for midsommar. For them, it was simply a matter of common sense.

When compared to other European countries, where spring comes earlier, or at the very least – on time, in Sweden vårdagjämning can still be bitterly cold. There’s still snow covering most of the country and, especially the further North you go, the length of the day is the only indication that the season has indeed changed.

But let’s talk about the word “season” for a second. While in English, “season” can signify the time of the year when it snows, or the time when guys in tight pants and helmets start throwing a ball around, or the time when the birds and the bees get together and make more birds and bees, it doesn’t work quite the same in Swedish. Here, you have a “season” and a “season” and even a “season.”

• årstid (def. årstiden, pl. årstider, def.pl. årstiderna) – de fyra årstiderna är vår, sommar, höst och vinter - these are the four seasons

• säsong (def. säsongen, pl. säsonger, def.pl. säsongerna) – tid på året som passar bäst för något eller då något speciellt händer – badsäsong, turistsäsong, skidsäsong – this would be the word to use when you want to talk about “skiing season” or “football season” or “tourist season.”

Let’s say, you are in the tropics, and it’s rainy season – you’d simply say “regntiden,” or when it’s dry – “torrtiden.”

Similar with the mating season – in Swedish it’s simply “tid” – “parningstid,” or “brunsttid” – useful words when you like to watch nature programs or have cats that are not spayed.

And that pretty much covers all the seasons in Swedish. Now, what can we do to make this alleged spring appear faster, hmmm?