Local politics in Malmo, the most diverse city in Sweden, have an ugly, ethnic flavour. Ilmar Reepalu, a Social Democrat and mayor from 1994 to 2013, won while repeatedly denying the veracity of reports of anti-Semitic violence, claimed the Sweden Democrats had “infiltrated” the city’s Jewish community to turn it against Muslims, and appeared to see Zionism and anti-Semitism as morally equivalent “extremes”.
Almgarden, a suburb adjacent to Rosengard, is a Sweden Democrat stronghold filled with ethnic Swedes concerned about their neighbours’ problems spilling into their community.
Bejzat Becirov, originally from Macedonia, runs Rosengard’s Islamic Centre, which contains the suburb’s mosque. He is frustrated by the censorious approach the establishment has taken to the immigration debate. When I meet him in his office at the centre, rebuilt after a mysterious fire one night in 2003, he tells me that he organised a hustings there during the last election campaign and invited candidates from all the major parties, including the Sweden Democrats, to take part. When the other parties refused to attend as long as the Sweden Democrats were there, he had no choice but to retract his invitation to the far-right party. “Parties go up and down,” he says, drawing an undulating graph with his finger. “What is more important is that Swedes have a conversation about their different backgrounds. I have no problem debating with politicians from the Sweden Democrats.”
The Swedish establishment should learn from Becirov’s commitment to engaging with all voices, including the far-Right, which is particularly impressive given that his centre has been the target of several xenophobic attacks — bricks through his windows and pigs’ heads dumped in front of the mosque.
The scale of immigration last year and the rise of the Sweden Democrats has forced mainstream Swedish politicans to join the conversation the Swedish people have been having for years. The challenge they now face is swapping platitudinous multiculturalism for robust integration policies which build a successful society that finds more than just a bed for its new arrivals.
Almgarden, a suburb adjacent to Rosengard, is a Sweden Democrat stronghold filled with ethnic Swedes concerned about their neighbours’ problems spilling into their community.
Bejzat Becirov, originally from Macedonia, runs Rosengard’s Islamic Centre, which contains the suburb’s mosque. He is frustrated by the censorious approach the establishment has taken to the immigration debate. When I meet him in his office at the centre, rebuilt after a mysterious fire one night in 2003, he tells me that he organised a hustings there during the last election campaign and invited candidates from all the major parties, including the Sweden Democrats, to take part. When the other parties refused to attend as long as the Sweden Democrats were there, he had no choice but to retract his invitation to the far-right party. “Parties go up and down,” he says, drawing an undulating graph with his finger. “What is more important is that Swedes have a conversation about their different backgrounds. I have no problem debating with politicians from the Sweden Democrats.”
The Swedish establishment should learn from Becirov’s commitment to engaging with all voices, including the far-Right, which is particularly impressive given that his centre has been the target of several xenophobic attacks — bricks through his windows and pigs’ heads dumped in front of the mosque.
The scale of immigration last year and the rise of the Sweden Democrats has forced mainstream Swedish politicans to join the conversation the Swedish people have been having for years. The challenge they now face is swapping platitudinous multiculturalism for robust integration policies which build a successful society that finds more than just a bed for its new arrivals.
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