“Go Home”: letters mailed to immigrants

I am trying to listen, and to learn more perspectives about immigration and integration challenges in Sweden.   The issues are complex, and it is easiest to mentally divide all into sides, and point one finger of blame.

My current project is exploring the evidence-based work in development communication and communication for social change, which most often is applied to work in developing countries, and seeing if there is anything that can be helpful in a city looking for solutions to social cohesion challenges.

Malmö has been in international news recently because fans were banned from a big Sweden-Israel tennis match, 1000 police were brought in in case of trouble, and a gang of youth splintered from the protest and began to try to do damage, like vandalizing police vehicles.

The city of Malmö I think wants to avoid political side-taking, but it’s tough on this issue to see where there could be middle ground.  Allowing Israel in to compete is seen as political support for Israel’s side in the war.  Not allowing Israel in to sport competitions would be seen as a statement of support against Israel and for Palestine.

Some Swedes feel that immigration has failed in this country, that refugees have not integrated, are a steady drain on tax dollars, have led to a significant rise in gangs and crime, and while they avail their rights, do not participate in their duties as citizens – that they find ways to dupe the system.  Yesterday I met with someone in the citizen’s office in the controversial community of Rosengård.  She spoke of some immigrants who get ‘fake divorces’ so that they can get paid apartments for two ex-spouses, and rent out the second one.  She also spoke of unemployment as the underlying issue behind most problems in the neighbourhood.  She was unhappy that media mentions of the community never mentioned any of the positive things going on there.

On my flight over, the Swede beside me said of immigrants, “They have no gratitude.  They have no respect.”

There is a lot of fear of the area of Rosengård.  “Watch your back,” I was told as I left for a meeting there.  “It’s ‘Muslim Centrum’”, I was told when I returned.  “They will spit on you.” “The teachers are called ‘cunt’ in all their schools.”  “The firefighters will not go there.”  “The buses, some won’t go there because they throw stones at them.”

I was puzzled;  it seemed to me there was a mix of people in the area - there were Caucasians there too.  “You were lucky.  Honey, why would you go there?” “Don’t ever go there at night.” 

I recognize I cannot summarize the feeling of one neighbourhood based on one visit.  I recognize the possibility that I may be naiive.  I am trying hard to be objective.

I am trying to listen, and to learn more perspectives about immigration and integration challenges in Sweden.   Today, I had an introduction meeting at the Iraqi Cultural Association. 

The man I met with was a marine biologist before the war, underemployed or unemployed like so many of his community here.  He speaks three languages; elsewhere worked as a translator.  He cannot find a place for these skills here.  “I am over 60,” he says.  “Even people in their 30s are having a hard time finding jobs.  There is nothing for me now.”  There isn’t bitterness, but sadness; pained eyes.

The association has received two letters in the mail that are not encouraging.  “Go home.”  The second includes a photograph of one of them - taken at a peaceful protest about approval of residency.

They, too, are afraid of Rosengård.  He doesn’t go there; expresses worry about my going again.  They hate the violence.  “It is the people from Yemen; from Saudi Arabia,” he says.    

 I twist my brain around what seems is this sad human need to create an ‘other’, as though we can’t fully form an identity unless in whatever group we are in, we separate ourselves from something we are not.  As though creating ‘otherness’, something worse than us and ‘over there’, is critical for our sense of belonging.  I hope my thinking is only cynical.

I am trying to listen, and to learn more perspectives about immigration and integration challenges in Sweden.  It interests me that this association gathers people from very diverse religions.  Eating together, drinking tea, playing dominos or other games.  They have commonality of language, but they are Muslim, Baptist, Protestant, etc.    Elsewhere in the world, these can be very conflicting communities.   But somehow in this small space, they have succeeded in focusing everyone on what they have in common, and not on ‘otherness’.

I’ve been invited to join one of their social gatherings.  I’m a little nervous:  I speak no Arabic, and almost all of them speak no English.  I expect most will be men.  I’ll have the shyness or feeling of social awkwardness I’d have at any social occasion where I don’t really know anyone.   I will be the ‘other’.  I’m going to go. 

Photo credits:  Non-Violence and Turning Torso, Malmö