Sweden Democrats leader Jimmie Akesson at the party's election night event in Nacka, near Stockholm, on September 11, 2022. Photo / AP
ANALYSIS:
The final results of Sweden's elections made history today: the Sweden Democrats, an anti-immigrant far-right party with a recent history of overtly Nazi ideology, has won its best result ever. With 20.6 per cent of the vote, it is in second place in Sweden's multiparty system, beating out all of the more mainstream right-wing parties.
There are two ways to think about this. The first is as something new and unusual: to focus on the party's unprecedented success, and what it signals about a changing Sweden.
But the other way to look at it is as the latest example of a pattern that has become typical across Europe: far-right parties' winning substantial portions of the vote, if not actual power. (That is still likely to be the case in Sweden, where even though the bloc of right-wing parties together won a majority of parliament seats, the more mainstream of them are expected to form a government without the Sweden Democrats.)
The Sweden Democrats won 3 per cent more of the vote than their previous record of 17.5 per cent in the 2018 election, continuing a trajectory of steady growth since it first entered parliament in 2010.
This would grab attention in any country, but especially in Sweden, a country that is known for egalitarian social democracy.
"Relative to other countries in Europe, when we look at cross-national surveys, Sweden always exhibits the highest or among the highest rates of tolerance for diversity — of, for instance, support for immigration, support for offering asylum," said Jennifer Fitzgerald, a political scientist at the University of Colorado, Boulder, who studies the Swedish far right. "For years, when other countries were experiencing the growth of the far right, Sweden didn't. And so I think maybe there was an expectation that there would be an exception there."
It is now clear that there isn't.
No single factor explains the rise of the far right in Sweden, said Sirus Hafstrom Dehdari, a political scientist at Stockholm University who studies the radical right and political identity.
The 2008 financial crisis gave the party an early boost: Dehdari's research found that each crisis-induced job loss translated into half a vote for the Sweden Democrats. Demographic change may be another factor: 20 years ago, about 10 per cent of Sweden's population was foreign-born. Now that number is more like 20 per cent. More recently, heavy media coverage of an increase in gang-related killings, many of which occurred within immigrant communities, have connected immigration to crime in the public consciousness.
But while there are many pathways to the far right, once there, its voters have appeared to be remarkably loyal, Dehdari said. People may have begun voting for the Sweden Democrats in the wake of the financial crisis, but they "didn't go back to mainstream parties once they got a new job", he said. A similar pattern may hold for more recent events too, such as the spike in crime, but it is too soon to say for sure.
Sweden is just the latest European democracy with a far right that is regularly able to command electoral support, joining a list that already included France, Germany, Finland, Denmark, Austria, Estonia and others.
"In many European countries, it seems like they get to 20 per cent and then they hit the ceiling," Dehdari said. "There needs to be some rather large change in society for them to grow a lot beyond 20 or 22 per cent."
Twenty is a lot less than 50: such a party cannot expect to win an outright majority any time soon. But 20 per cent is enough to be a major partner in a coalition — making the far right's votes increasingly tempting for other parties seeking to form a government.
So the most significant political question for Sweden is not how many votes the far right can get, but how the rest of the political system will respond to its growing popularity.
So far, Sweden's mainstream parties have maintained a so-called "cordon sanitaire", agreeing among themselves that they will shut the far right out of governing coalitions and government posts. It is a strategy that has been used in other European countries, such as France, Germany and Greece, to keep the far right out of power.
But such pacts can be hard to maintain, particularly for mainstream right-wing parties, which often must choose between entering into agenda-diluting coalitions with centre-left parties, or staying in the opposition because they refuse to join with the far right. Sometimes ambition beats out resolve: in Germany in 2020, two mainstream parties broke the cordon sanitaire to form a short-lived coalition with the far right in the state of Thuringia, prompting a political backlash and local government crisis.
And even when mainstream parties do maintain the red line against far-right parties, that does not necessarily equal a blockade against far-right policies. In many countries, parties of the mainstream right have adopted hard-line positions on immigrants and refugees in an attempt to win votes back from insurgent far-right parties.
That strategy has backfired in Sweden, however, Dehdari said, because validating far-right parties' policies tends to reduce the stigma of voting for them. "Why don't the voters go back?" he said. "Well, it's because why vote for the copy when you can vote for the original?"
In some other countries, including Italy, Austria and Sweden's neighbour Finland, far-right parties have been allowed into governing coalitions. "Across countries where that boundary has been crossed and where far-right parties have become members of governing coalitions, it does seem to confer a certain level of legitimacy onto those parties," Fitzgerald said.
Counterintuitively, far-right parties themselves can sometimes pay a steep price for that kind of access to government, Dehdari said. In Finland, the far-right party then called the True Finns underwent a bitter internal split after conflict with its coalition partners over its election of new, more extremist party leadership.
In Sweden, as the final election results trickle in, the cordon sanitaire seems to be holding. But as right-wing parties try to put together a coalition with razor-thin margins, they will face decisions about whether to allow the Sweden Democrats to become part of the government's voting coalition — even if the party does not formally become a coalition member with Cabinet posts — or to keep them out entirely.
But the bigger picture, Fitzgerald said, is not just about mainstream parties' treatment of the far right, but the health of the political system as a whole. She noted that early reports suggest that voter turnout was unusually low in this election, a sign of broader voter dissatisfaction. (Something similar happened in France's presidential election in April, which saw low turnout, as well as record numbers of abstentions and blank ballots.)
"I was just thinking, 'Amanda's going to call and I'm going to tell her something really boring about turnout,'" she joked during our conversation. "But to me, that absolutely should be part of the story here."
Research, including her own, is clear on that point, she said: "Far-right parties do better when turnout is low." Which means that the real question might not be what Sweden's mainstream parties can do about the far right, but whether they can persuade their own voters to show up to stop them.
This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
Written by: Amanda Taub
© 2022 THE NEW YORK TIMES
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