JUST a short drive from Malmö city centre in southern Sweden sits Rosengård – a neighbourhood built in the 1960s as part of a nation-wide so-called “million programme”, through which the Swedish state set out to build one million affordable and functional housing units across the country, mainly intended for working class families. Though in itself a groundbreaking housing programme, it was not specifically designed with a multicultural reality in mind.
As immigrants and refugees from across the world arrived in Sweden through the 1980s and the 1990s, Rosengård and other similar neighbourhoods became home not only to some of the most culturally diverse but also many of the most socio-economically vulnerable members of Swedish society.
Enter the image of Rosengård as “problematic”.
“Rosengård has been widely described since – not only in Sweden but also internationally – as an example of so-called ‘failed integration’,” says Dr Admir Skodo, writer and international migration expert.
Skodo is the coordinator of a project led by the Churches Commission for Migrants in Europe, the World Council of Churches, and the World Association for Christian Communication entitled Life in the Neighbourhood - Changing the European Migration Narrative, which challenges prevailing mainstream media narratives on migration in multicultural neighbourhoods in and across Europe.
“The narrative of ‘failed integration’ is upheld and reinforced today by far-right and nationalist agendas across many countries in Europe,” Skodo notes.
Yet while reputation and public perception have not always been favourable to Rosengård, voices on the ground today tell a different story – and one that is core to the Life in the Neighbourhood project.
Breaking barriers, building trust
Police officer Malin Morän plays a key strategic role through her service with the local Police, focussing on fostering trust and safe living conditions among the residents of Rosengård. She describes major progress over the past number of years.
“A few decades ago, going to Rosengård would typically require two Police units: one to do the actual work and one to keep watch over our vehicles, or else you’d come back from your rounds only to find your car wrecked,” Morän says, recalling her first years of service in the area. “But today, we simply do not encounter this kind of behaviour. It is really very different.”
The Police have worked strategically and long-term to turn things around for Rosengård, says Morän, pointing in particular to collaboration between the Police, civil society actors, landlords and the people who live here, both adults and children.
“These are all collaborative efforts,” Morän says. “And it is not just about the community, it is not just about the Police. It is also about the things that the residents are responsible for… We should be together and talk about issues, especially the problems that we face and what we can do ourselves, how we can each contribute,” she reflects and adds: “There is a very generous community here.”
Resilience in the local community
Local Rosengård-resident Nabil, a Palestinian moving in from Lebanon to Rosengård in the late 1990s, has grown to be a part of a wide array of projects and local community networks. He describes a hopeful community resilient in the face of hardship and increasing pressure from nationalist and racist political agendas at both local and national levels in Sweden.
“Of course, there are problems in our society. We shouldn't ignore our young people, our children who are here, there is always something that we need to work on,” Nabil says.
But Rosengård is also like a family, he emphasizes. “When everyone knows everyone, there is always something that you can offer. You can be a teacher, a doctor, someone who has more experience that you can then offer to others. It has become very common in Rosengård, that you ask anyone if there is something you can do to help, anything.”
“People are positive, I think that’s what makes you happy and builds hope, when you see this in their eyes,” Nabil says.
Space to grow and develop
His words are echoed by Morän and also by Inci Gicvan, a youth social worker at the City of Malmö’s municipal youth centre in Rosengård. She works and meets with children and teenagers in the neighbourhood every day.
Together with her colleagues, the youth centre offers children and youth of ages 13-19 spaces to grow through daily activities ranging from table tennis to online gaming, from handicraft to music, from dance to sports.
On a regular day, 40-80 youngsters come by the centre, Gicvan explains. On occasion, up to 120 youngsters may join in.
Gicvan herself was born and raised in Rosengård. She cherishes the strong sense of community and diversity in this historically stigmatized part of Malmö.
“This here is the foundation, it is knowledge, it is where you come to know reality, and where you get to know all these beautiful parts of life: the art, the language, the culture – there is such beauty, and it’s not something you find just like that everywhere else,” Gicvan emphasises.
While observing that old prejudices about Rosenborg may well never fully go away, “there is indeed development – in the midst of this mixture of nostalgia, tradition and modern, present-day life as Rosengård keeps on developing – so I don’t think prejudices will remain in the same way, or at the same scale in the future,” she concludes.
The Life in the Neighbourhood - Changing the European Migration Narrative project is supported by Otto Per Mille (OPM) grant.
Watch the full video feature here.
by Albin Hillert/WCC/CCME/WACC