Alternative War: Unabridged Read online

  The one indication of any problems I found in Herrgården was a clearly recent and heavily decorated memorial to a young man, Ahmed, who appeared to have lost his life in 2017. Flowers, letters, trainers, and an almost overwhelming assortment of carefully arranged candles were piled against a fence adorned with photographs of him. I investigated the story behind the memorial, using the dates and words in the notes, which had been left to weather in laminated cases, and discovered the boy in the pictures was apparently Ahmed Abdulaziz, shot dead around the 31st of March 2017 having been witness to an earlier shooting in January. Seven gang members were arrested for his murder in a very short space of time and this sad incident formed part of the exceptional, organised criminal spree both Gerell, the criminologist and Nils Karlsson, the deputy mayor, had discussed with me. Interestingly, as the arrests of specific gang members in Malmö quelled the relatively limited violence, London’s figures showed the significant rise in gun crime and an increase of nearly a quarter in the number of knife crime offences over the same twelve months. The contrast made it really apparent to me that we face much bigger problems back in the UK, from the security of our children in school to their safety out of it and, beyond that, during their young adulthood. Our council estates are, by direct comparison, much more squalid and less well cared for and, on top of the air being cleaner in Sweden – with millions of us being exposed to illegal levels of air pollution – we recycle significantly less, and have a more noticeable litter problem in general than even in one of the ‘roughest’ estates in Sweden. This drew another deep sigh from me as the realisation of it all solidified.

  Undisturbed in my explorations, aside from the welcome encounter with the two little girls, I made my way across one of the bridges and deeper into the estates, turning left and heading past a social welfare centre – something like a SureStart but much larger – passing a busy medical clinic where older Swedish women stood chatting. The bike racks outside were full and only a couple of the cycles were locked in place. A longer bridge led across to a large mall but a police station caught my eye, nestling below the blue-topped towers of the next sprawling garden estate.

  Of course, if I just walked into a police station in England and asked for comment on something contentious, I’d be laughed out of the door – or directed to a press officer countless miles away. As it turns out, and in spite of the damage done by the Russian escapade in Rinkeby, or Horowitz’s film, Sweden is inarguably different from the UK in almost every way.

  Rosengård police station’s reception was clean, white, and the walls were adorned with a combination of public information posters and community art. The receptionist cheerfully greeted my tentative approach with the now familiar “Hej!” Obviously, I didn’t have an appointment and felt it was massively unlikely I would manage to speak to anyone at all – especially not to get a comment on Donald Trump’s ‘last night in Sweden’ remark, the controversial topic of crime and immigration, or the Stockholm terror attack only days before. I was also visibly ashamed that I couldn’t communicate in Swedish, while the receptionist listened carefully and told me in flawless English she would make some calls and see who was available to see me, if anyone.

  Tenacious but feeling a little hopeless, I took a seat, reading the domestic violence posters and information leaflets on Rosengård’s community patrol volunteers, and waited five minutes. Unexpectedly, a heavy metal door swung open and grey-haired man in the dark blue Polisen uniform stepped out, greeting me with a curious look, a firm handshake, and “Hi!” in English. He introduced himself simply as Jansåker and said he had five minutes while calling me through to the police station proper and leading me to a conference room. As he offered me a seat around a large table, I noticed the two lines and the crown on his epaulettes. Very shortly I would find out just how lucky I’d been, popping in on the off chance.

  Erik Jansåker had been the area Chief Superintendent for five years. Back in the 1980s, he worked with young criminals to address re-offending and, over the years which followed, his work became increasingly important – addressing youth crime is now a central focus of Sweden’s policing strategy. Rosengård’s policing area is outside of Malmö’s central enforcement district and forms one of three areas under Jansåker’s command. Of the city’s five divisions, Jansåker is in charge of the most deprived. As we began chatting, a second officer was beckoned into the room by the chief.

  Zoran Markovic, the head of community policy and officer in charge of South Malmö, joined us at the conference table and we spent half an hour having an incredibly frank and open discussion. As we covered some of the ground I had been over with Karlsson and Gerell, Markovic repeated the point that “We have no ‘no go zones’.”

  “Problems come and go with gangs in different ways but right now it’s calm,” he told me. “Gun violence is between organised criminal networks. We have a list of two hundred well-known criminals and eighteen-hundred others who are twenty-two or younger. Many are under eighteen, so we’re working with social services too, as it isn’t always a police issue alone.” Markovic, it turned out, was the first person in the country to formally hold the new, community-focused position.

  Jansåker clearly was a time-served expert on this, pointing out the complexities of the work to change things extending well beyond policing alone. “It’s long term work and each agency has their own legal framework. Prevention is a journey of years and it’s only the last year or two it’s become a formal role,” he said.

  “Crime, on the whole, is showing a decline,” Jansåker added. “And the figures here are interpreted knowing that our crime recording is different to other places.” I knew from my own research, and from speaking to Manne Gerell, that the Swedish crime recording practice was, in many ways, superior to other countries – though it’s obvious this can make the figures seem higher in a direct comparison.

  Markovic also highlighted one area where they still have a lot of work to do. “In gang violence, there is much less will to report offences, or even act as witnesses in police investigations.” But he clarified the diverse range of methods being deployed to capture more reports of crime across the country. “We have our offices like this one open all the time, we have telephone and internet reporting, and you can approach the police openly,” he said. The continued presence of an open police station is noteworthy when comparing Sweden to the UK, where austerity has left police forces with little option but to cut back on civilian staff, freeze officer recruitment, and close vast numbers of front counters and offices. Sweden, conversely, appears to recognise the importance of giving the public even more access to the police. At the time, the Manchester terror attack, which would bring the debate around cuts to emergency services to the centre of the general election campaigns in Britain, had not yet happened.

  Driving the conversation on, I didn’t pull the punch on asking about the link between crime and immigration, even though I realised asking the two senior officers so directly might bring my unannounced visit to an end. They didn’t bat an eyelid and there was no hesitation in answering, with Jansåker quipping about difficult questions being his pay grade rather than Markovic’s.

  “It’s a difficult question,” Jansåker mused, resting his glasses on the table while he worked the Swedish to English translations through in his head. “Last year we had lots of immigrations, high numbers of immigrants coming to live in different parts of Malmö. Of course, there are some problems which come with this but we cannot say crime has gone up because of it. We simply can’t.”

  Markovic was especially passionate on this topic – he grew up in Rosengård. “It’s the area and the system together which create problems, not the people. Schools, employment, money. You can get stuck. It’s the environment which has the greatest effect on people’s lives,” he told me. The police, the Stadhuset, and the criminology experts were all clearly in agreement: socio-economic factors are the biggest driver of society’s problems, including crime. I asked Markovic what could
make it better.

  “Better homes, better jobs. Education,” he said.

  “It’s the same answer in all of Europe,” Jansåker added.

  I found their approach and their understanding deeply philosophical, a display of positive policing driven by a genuine passion for reducing problems across society, rather than just reacting and enforcing the law.

  Turning less bluntly to the terrorist incident in Stockholm, I wanted to know if this event would drive a change in the police approach to community policing or to their presence. In particular, I was thinking about the Metropolitan Police Service introducing their black-clad, anti-terror teams on the streets of London and the heavily polarised public reaction. Again this was pre-Manchester, which resulted in the even more controversial deployment of troops to the British streets. I was also conscious the Stockholm attack would be raw for both of senior officers but Jansåker surprised me again with his candour.

  “It’s early but it’s been discussed nationally and locally. There are some more officers on high visibility patrols of course, but there’s no change in our approach,” he told me.

  Markovic was also very proud of the way the Polisen responded in the aftermath of the attack, and how the public reacted to the efforts of officers.

  “We handled it very well in Stockholm. I’m proud of the positive comments on our handling of such a difficult incident,” he added.

  We talked for a few more minutes and, as we were exchanging email addresses, it occurred to me they had not asked for my credentials at any point, nor approached any of my questions in a stand-offish or suspicious fashion. It was clear to me that policing in Sweden really was transparent and open to all: Markovic is a Rosengård success story, and Jansåker a talented and progressive commander who saw the potential in tackling issues broader than the law alone a long time before it was a formal part of the job. Leaving, I felt reassured Malmö was in safe hands – but, though I’d seen no overt signs of fear and loathing in Rosengård, I still wanted to double check by speaking to people on the street.

  Ann worked on the hotel reception where I was staying in the centre of Malmö. She was what I would think of as typically Swedish: white, blonde and tall. (Oddly, this isn’t ‘typically’ Swedish because, in truth, there is no such thing.)

  She greeted me with a friendly “Hej-Hej!” and quickly spotted I was British, seamlessly switching to flawless English with no less sparkle in her tone. I explained to her that I was a journalist, in the city to explore the truth about crime and immigration and, of course, President Donald Trump’s comments which caused a tsunami of international coverage.

  “It’s crazy that he took that and made a big thing out of it,” she said, referring to Trump’s “last night in Sweden” comment which was based on his watching the falsified Fox News documentary by Horowitz. “But he hasn’t said much about what happened on Friday,” she added.

  Trump had spoken with the Swedish Prime Minister, Stefan Lofven, over the weekend, and, according to a readout of the two leaders' conversation, the US President expressed condolences and “agreed to maintain and strengthen the already close partnership between the United States and Sweden in the global fight against terrorism.” However, his public commentary, characteristically via Twitter, said very little which reached Swedish ears in the same way as his Florida statement.

  I asked Ann about the reports of riots and the claims by Nigel Farage that Malmö was the rape capital of the world. She waved her hand and laughed, saying: “Of course there is crime, there’s crime everywhere, but it’s perfectly safe.” A criminologist, a deputy mayor, the police chiefs, and my own research all confirmed this so, I briefly asked her about the still raw events in Stockholm and her reply was unhesitant. “Life carries on, we are Sweden!”

  Back in Rosengård, I spoke with Deeq, who has owned Safari Fashion – a vibrant and colourful shop in the peaceful but busy mall across the bridge from the police station – since 2006. He spoke three languages and his English was excellent. He arrived in Sweden from Somalia in 2002 and had always lived in Rosengård. “It’s always the same here. Always. It’s good and, for me, peaceful. I’ve never had a problem,” he told me.

  Watching him interact with his customers, from all manner of backgrounds, was a pleasure and he paused between them to continue speaking with me. “There can be problems, nothing unusual though. I see problems in the news but never with my own eyes. Some things are just exaggerated,” he said, echoing everything I’d found during the course of my investigations.

  I was curious about the significant lifestyle transition from Somalia to Sweden.

  “It was a big change,” he said sincerely. “The climate, the culture. But they are very kind people in Sweden.” I can imagine the shock of the cold was quite something. “I studied in high school when I came, even though I was 26, and went straight to work afterwards.” It was obvious Deeq both loved Sweden and feels Swedish, but how did he feel about Rosengård? “There are big cultural differences, lots of different cultures, but we all get on really well.”

  By this point, I was genuinely struggling to find any trace of the huge problems reported by the international press and Deeq shrugged it off too.

  “They never report positives. The journalists never come here to ask me. Swedish people think Rosengård residents are negative people but that’s just not reality.” It appeared I was a novelty of sorts.

  When I asked him about Donald Trump and he sighed loudly.

  “I don’t know where politics is heading today. The right kind of politics is being lost. I think it’s better to focus on positives but it’s just every negative thing in Swedish society, not just Malmö. Sweden has always been even and stable but I think it’s heading to problems with all of this,” he said. I asked Deeq what he thought had changed and he replied with absolute certainty: “It’s caused by the media, the politicians. The negative things are everywhere now. Sweden, the EU, the world. We live in a global network and it spreads this way.” I couldn’t help but think back to Nils Karlsson’s comments on us wasting the crowning moment of humanity.

  After leaving Rosengård, I headed back to the centre of Malmö and wandered the side streets until my eye caught a solitary broken window. I was hopeful that, perhaps, I would get a different view. A contrast.

  The family run cobbler also cut keys and a white Swedish woman in her mid to late sixties was out the back, playing with her grandson, as I pushed the door open and walked inside. She waved, added a cheerful “Hej!” and came to the counter – peering over to look at my shoes and see what was broken. I was sorry to disappoint her by only being there to ask questions.

  The owner, Britta, also spoke good English, though she told me she doesn’t get to use it much anymore. I asked her about the broken window.

  “It was smashed,” she shrugged with a smile. “Nobody was trying to get in, you can see that.” I was curious as to what the police did when she reported it. It was recorded as an attempted burglary, she said, though she didn’t agree, and they did what they could to investigate. “They asked about a camera, but I don’t have one. What can they do really, it’s just damage?” So, I asked if she had any problems before and she vigorously shook her head. “No, first time.”

  In terms of general safety, Britta just did not like the big city anymore and told me she was glad to retreat to her village after work, for simple peace and quiet. “I don’t know if it changes at night as I don’t get out on nights.” As Manne Gerell pointed out, most crime is focused on the city centre in the evening – as you would expect anywhere in the world – but it has been falling.

  When I asked Britta about Donald Trump, she laughed loudly. “I heard this. It’s not true, nonsense! You can come here and look before you say it. Trump is totally wrong.” I pressed her a little on immigration too and she surprised me, saying “it’s good. They can work and pay taxes! There are always some who come who are criminals but with them, we see. Most are good people.”

&
nbsp; I suppose the real question then has always been on integration rather than immigration, so I put the question to Britta, asking if new communities do make the effort to integrate. Her response turned the question on its head. “It’s up to us! We must take them along and teach them how we live.”

  Having talked to real Swedes who are warm, articulate, liberal, and welcoming, as well as experts who have the same traits, I was left with some other rocks to kick over. There had to be an explanation for the alt-right focus, so I got back to research and the truth of it all started to tumble out.

  Up until that point, I had no idea what a mess I’d stumbled into.

  Eight:

  When Trump said “Last night in Sweden” he had no idea what he was talking about and the right-wing coverage which followed was false. I knew that by the time I had to leave Malmö.

  I went there to investigate the reality of crime and immigration but, while there, I had inadvertently discovered a much darker truth. The President of the United States’ comment and the alternative narrative which followed was a divisive and deliberate attack on the truth to serve nefarious ends: the creation of fear through propaganda and disinformation.

  During the course of my investigation, I learned a lot about Sweden. It’s a liberal, open-minded, forward-thinking country which believes open democracy and internet access for all are closely interwoven. People feel safe on the streets and they share values which have no borders or ethnic definition and the country was strong in its unity, even in the immediate aftermath of terror. Yes, Sweden has its fair share of criminality but, at the same time, takes one of the most honest – if not the most honest – approaches to crime recording I’ve ever encountered. The Polisen works constantly on developing innovative strategies to combat high volume crime and, in conjunction with criminologists and other agencies, they strive to address the socio-economic factors driving serious offending. The country also faces challenges of extremism, both foreign and domestic, but faces up to both without hesitation or self-denial. My digging around for the truth in Sweden uncovered something more, however: the existence of a pattern. Something wrong. There was a thread to untangle and my trip was the key.