200 Years of Peace: New Perspectives on Modern Swedish Foreign Policy 9781800735903

Citation preview

200 YEARS OF PEACE

200 YEARS OF PEACE New Perspectives on Modern Swedish Foreign Policy

Edited by Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

First published in 2022 by Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com © 2022 Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Biltekin, Nevra, editor. | Müller, Leos, 1962- editor. | Petersson, Magnus, 1972- editor. Title: 200 years of peace : new perspectives on modern Swedish foreign policy / edited by Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller, and Magnus Petersson. Other titles: Two hundred years of peace Description: [New York, New York] : Berghahn Books, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022018485 (print) | LCCN 2022018486 (ebook) | ISBN 9781800735897 (hardback) | ISBN 9781800735903 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Sweden--Foreign relations--19th century. | Sweden--Foreign relations--20th century. | Sweden--Foreign relations--21st century. | Neutrality--Sweden. Classification: LCC DL658.8 .A123 2022 (print) | LCC DL658.8 (ebook) | DDC 327.485--dc23/eng/20220505 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022018485 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022018486 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-­1-80073-­589-­7 hardback ISBN 978-­1-80073-­590-­3 ebook https://doi.org/10.3167/9781800735897

Contents Introduction. Pax Suecia, 1814–2020 Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

1

Chapter 1. ‘Long Peace’, Neutrality and Sweden-­Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856 Leos Müller

17

Chapter 2. How Small States Manage to Stay Out of Wars: Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace Jacob Westberg

38

Chapter 3. Swedish Peace Movements and the Breakup of the Forced Union between Sweden and Norway in 1905 Fredrik Egefur

62

Chapter 4. The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours: Navigating Neutrality, Peace Building and Women’s Issues in the Twentieth Century Anne Hedén Chapter 5. The Quest for Neutrality: Sweden, Finland and the Language Question in a Cold War Context Janne Väistö

87 112

Chapter 6. No Peace without Equality: The ‘North-­South Conflict’ and Its Effects on Sweden, the Netherlands and West Germany 134 Christopher Seiberlich Conclusion 161 Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson Index 165

Introduction

Pax Suecia, 1814–2020 Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

R Pax Suecia. Does it exist, and, if so, what defines it? Since 1814, Sweden has been involved in no armed conflicts other than United Nations (UN)-mandated peace operations outside Swedish territory. This is an exceptional experience on the world s­tage – ­one not even shared by ­Switzerland – ­that in many it ways epitomizes the ideals of peace.1 Yet, despite its extraordinary longevity, research about the Swedish experience of enduring peace, and that of Swedish international relations during the 200-­year period more generally, is remarkably scant.2 The point of departure of this volume is that this unique Swedish experience deserves more attention, both for scholarly reasons and for widening our knowledge of this ­history – ­both in Sweden and abroad. This book has developed out of a renewed interest in reconceptualizing the field of the history of international relations. While the state and political actors remain the cornerstones of this field, they are far from being the only institutions and agents to define it. The study of Swedish peace is no longer limited to state-­initiated policies, and it is not exclusively framed as political history. This book provides a number of examples of non-­state agents and institutions that have shaped the perceptions of peace and neutrality in Sweden. It shows how they have contributed to and formed Sweden’s foreign policies. But it also combines this new focus on non-­state agents and institutions with more traditional approaches to international relations and national security perspectives.

2  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

The book’s editors are in various ways involved in the Hans Blix Centre for the History of International Relations, which was established at Stockholm University in 2020 to facilitate a new interest in the history of international relations; the Centre provides a platform for studying this history in all its complexity. In the spring of 2020, the Hans Blix Centre hosted a workshop on the theme of Sweden’s long peace, organized by the editors. The contributions to this workshop form the basis of this anthology. In our vibrant discussions we specifically tried to explore the question of how Sweden managed to stay out of wars over the course of 200 years, and to consider what characteristics make Swedish history ­unique – ­if indeed it is. The results of these discussions, which comprise the subject matter of this book, show how various state and non-­state actors have taken active parts in negotiating, defining and reinterpreting Swedish peace, and how political, cultural, social and economic factors have influenced it. Our case studies reflect the multifaceted nature of this history. The latest war that Sweden participated in was the Swedish-­Norwegian War, waged in the summer of 1814. As a condition of the truce, Sweden forced Norway into a personal union. Throughout the time of the Union, Sweden and Norway shared a monarch, who resided in Stockholm, and foreign policy was decided by the Swedish government, although in all other respects the two nations lived and developed separately: for example, there was almost no coordination of Sweden’s and Norway’s economies. Perhaps inevitably, the separate development trajectories of the two nations led to dissent, and in 1905 the Norwegians, who had been compelled in the first place, decided to leave the Union. Norway’s desire to break free from the Union, though ultimately achieved peacefully, without military intervention from either side, had been a potential flashpoint that came to nothing. The peaceful dissolution of the Swedish-­Norwegian Union was one of the few examples of a non-­violent breakup of a modern nation ­state – e­ ven within the context of Sweden’s long era of peace, this was a unusual event.3 Although Sweden has not participated in any armed conflicts since 1814, there have been other instances when military conflict was either imminent or perceived as a real possibility. Later, during the Second World War, Sweden was in a very different situation. Both Norway and Denmark were attacked and then occupied in 1940 by Nazi Germany, and Germany put severe pressure on the Swedish government to allow the transit of German troops through the country. Sweden ultimately conceded to German d ­ emands – r­ eceiving criticism for breaching its policy of neutrality by doing ­so – ­during the first part of the war (1940–1943). Later, during the second part of the war (1943–1945), Sweden made consider-

Introduction • 3

able efforts to support the allies (the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and the United States).4 Yet in both cases it managed to remain officially neutral and was not drawn into the war. After the Second World War was over, geopolitical tensions between the Soviet Union and the United States during the Cold War posed another looming threat. Nuclear war was seen as a potential risk that all citizens and their families needed to be prepared for.5 But Sweden remained similarly unentangled. To some extent, accident rather than design has helped Sweden stay non-aligned and free from conflict. A brief history of the Swedish state provides a context to its recent experience. Major social, political and economic transformations have defined domestic developments in Sweden over the last 200 years, including processes of urbanization, industrialization and democratization. Sweden’s transformation from an agrarian to an industrialized society was exceptionally rapid, taking place between the 1850s and 1930s.6 By the mid-­twentieth century Sweden was one of the most developed and wealthy nations in the world, and a model of the modern welfare state. Democratization, however, evolved more slowly, even though the monarch had lost much of his power with the government reform of 1809. Until 1866 the Swedish parliament (Riksdag) consisted of four early modern estates: the nobility, the clergy, the burghers and the peasants. In 1866 it was reshaped into a bicameral parliament restricted to the wealthiest citizens. Universal suffrage was only added to the constitution in 1919, and in 1921 the first elections were held in which all women could vote. Alongside the slow development of Swedish democracy and parliamentarism up to 1921, Swedish foreign policy was also gradually ‘democratized’, and this may have had an impact on the long peace.7 Internationally, during the interwar years Sweden supported the efforts of the League of Nations to build a new inter-­state order based on collective security, conflict mediation and agreements on arms reductions.8 In 1946, Sweden joined the UN, a year after the organization’s foundation. Since then, the UN has been an important platform for Sweden’s foreign policy. The second secretary-­general of the UN (1953–1961), Dag Hammarskjöld, was a Swedish politician, and Sweden was a non-­ permanent member of the United Nations Security Council between 1975–1976 and 2017–2018.9 The gradual development of these political ideas and commitments means that to the Swedish self-­image belong the perception of neutrality and a desire to play an active role in the international sphere. Like its Nordic neighbours, Sweden characterizes itself by its commitment to international solidarity, peace-­building and non-­violent ambitions.10 In Sweden, the former prime minister (1969–1976 and 1982–1986) Olof

4  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

Palme’s sympathy for the developing world has often been presented as an example of Swedish international solidarity. Sweden’s self-­image as a peaceful nation has been strengthened by international mediators and humanitarian advocates such as Folke Bernadotte, Raoul Wallenberg, Jan Eliasson and Hans Blix.11 Some authors have pointed to the contradictions in this image of Sweden. Criticism has, for example, revolved around Sweden’s continued export of arms to countries that can use them in conflicts.12 The covert collaboration between Sweden and NATO countries over the course of the Cold War has also been perceived as a betrayal of the high ideals of independence and non-alignment that Sweden adopted during the Second World War. In fact, criticisms of Swedish double standards on neutrality and international solidarity have been a distinct theme in history writing about Swedish security policy since the end of the Cold War.13 After the collapse of the Soviet Union there was no in-­between space for an ideological, moral great-­power. In 1994, Sweden joined NATO’s Partnership for Peace (PfP) programme. In 1995, Sweden entered the European Union and became a more ordinary European nation, even as it upheld its non-­aligned security policy. Since its entry into the European Union, Sweden has had to adjust its foreign policy to conform with the joint European endeavour. Collaboration with NATO became open, via joint exercises between Swedish and NATO armed forces and in military operations. Sweden has, for example, contributed large numbers of ­troops – m ­ ore than many NATO m ­ embers – ­to the UN-­mandated, NATO-­led operations in Bosnia, Kosovo, Afghanistan and Libya.14 Since 2014, however, Swedish work for global peace has also been connected to a less militaristic, so-­called ‘feminist’ foreign policy, which is ‘based on the conviction that sustainable peace, security and development can never been achieved if half the world’s population is excluded’.15 In 2017, the minister for foreign affairs, Margot Wallström, connected a socially aware, just and environmental policy with one of peace when she declared that ‘deteriorating climate conditions is a definite threat to international peace and security’.16 Whether its foreign policy has been carried out by monarchs, influential politicians or non-­state actors based on pragmatically founded decisions, or on a purported Swedish peaceful ideology, Sweden has certainly remained outside of armed conflicts for more than 200 years. Yet this seemingly unambiguous position actually has a complex and multifaceted history. It cannot simply be explained by a policy of neutrality or by the actions of individuals. As shown in several of the chapters in this book, ­geopolitics – a­ nd, not least, the interests of the great p ­ owers – h ­ as played an important role. The aim of our book is to illuminate and analyse this

Introduction • 5

complexity and to point out the forgotten or misunderstood factors, organizations and actors. We start with the narrative of Sweden’s neutrality. It is well known that Sweden’s modern position on neutrality has received a lot of research interest. A particular scholarly focus has been given to the theoretical understanding of the concept of neutrality and its historical origins.17 In Chapter 1, Leos Müller shows how these origins were first located in the early nineteenth century and connected either to the Congress of Vienna or to King Charles XIV John’s declaration of neutrality in 1834. Müller argues, however, that the nineteenth-­century history of Swedish neutrality is far less clear-­cut than we have been led to believe. Sweden’s attitudes to its policy of neutrality have changed over time. Müller traces its origins instead to the concept of early modern maritime neutrality, which was declared by non-­belligerent states in maritime conflicts. Any neutral state could claim its right to carry on trading and shipping in wartime. For many countries, such as Sweden, this was a viable policy option during early modern conflicts. Müller argues that Sweden did just that, especially in the formative period 1793–1806, with the result that Swedish shipping and trade boomed. But business conducted under neutral flag was risky, and sustaining a policy of maritime neutrality became increasingly difficult when the Napoleonic Wars escalated and drew in even non-­belligerent states such as Sweden and Denmark. Müller points to three policies of neutrality that characterized the nineteenth-­century international order: guaranteed permanent neutrality, long-­term voluntary neutrality and occasional neutrality.18 Permanent neutrality, such as that adopted by the Swiss and Belgians, was guaranteed by the great powers in multilateral congress agreements, such as the Vienna Congress of 1814–1815. Long-­term voluntary neutrality expressed the neutral state’s long-­term determination to refuse to take side in a war, but was not guaranteed by the great powers. Occasional neutrality was the proper neutrality of any state that declared neutrality at the outbreak of a war between two (or more) other states. It was frequently used by great powers to avoid escalation of a war. While Sweden is often considered to have been a long-­term voluntary state, Müller argues that its nineteenth-­ century neutrality must be understood in the context of its transformation from a middle-­ranking state into a small state with restricted foreign policy options. Swedish neutrality during the nineteenth century, Müller argues, was at times inconsistent and vulnerable. As such, its position should instead be characterized as small-­state occasional neutrality. On several occasions, Sweden was on the brink of war. Like Jacob Westberg (Chapter 2), Müller uses both internal and external factors to explain the development of ­Swedish – ­and other European states’ – neutrality policies over

6  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

time. The most important factor for Sweden was the shifting geopolitical situation. But internal factors, especially the agency of domestic actors such as the king and the military, played a role in how this policy evolved. In Chapter 2, Jacob Westberg focuses on how Sweden, traditionally considered a small state since the nineteenth century, has managed to stay out of wars since 1814. Although Westberg’s main focus is on Sweden, he also puts the Swedish experience within a Nordic context. Westberg studies four armed conflicts in which Sweden did not participate: The first and second Schleswig Wars (1849–1852 and 1863–1864) and the two world wars. His analytical framework builds upon the notion that Sweden is a small state. Westberg examines some of the external variables influencing strategies adopted by small states, including balance of power and strategic exposure, which explain participation in or avoidance of war. He also considers some of the internal explicatory variables, such as domestic unity, democratic control of the executive parts of the government, and liberal democratic peace theory. He begins with the Schleswig Wars, which originated in a conflict between Germany (or, more exactly, until 1871, Prussia) and Denmark over the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein. Westberg discusses these wars in terms of how the responses of the Swedish king and Parliament and the nature of domestic political debates changed over time. In the first war, Sweden sent troops to Denmark to help the c­ ountry – ­an expression of Scandinavian solidarity. Westberg argues that Sweden’s subsequent refusal to send troops to help Denmark in the second Schleswig War can be attributed to the fact that Sweden was then experiencing a lack of domestic political unity. He also highlights the diminishing autonomy of the Swedish king. External variables also influenced the position Sweden took in these wars. In 1849, for example, Sweden’s support of Denmark was contingent on the great powers: when the great powers were unwilling to support Denmark in the second war, Sweden also opted not to support its neighbour. The lack of a balance of power in Europe in 1863–1864, therefore, had a strong restraining influence on the Swedish government’s decision whether or not to give Demark military support. When it came to the First and Second World Wars, differences relating to strategic exposure were the most important factors that determined why some states were drawn into the conflicts and others were not. Sweden declared its neutrality in both wars, but early on it promised to pursue a benign policy towards Germany and to support concessions in favour of the German war effort. Nevertheless, Sweden managed to stay out of the First World War, in part because the country was not strategically exposed. This was an important factor that, according to Westberg, ultimately enabled Sweden to remain neutral in both wars.

Introduction • 7

Other political factors were significant: throughout the Second World War, Germany’s occupation of Norway and Finland’s successful efforts to protect its political independence created both the need and opportunity for Sweden to pursue an appeasement policy towards Germany. Swedish non-­involvement was dependent on this policy and on changes in the regional balance of power. The appeasement policy towards Germany was, however, gradually phased out and replaced with support for its neighbours and the Allied war effort. While Müller’s and Westberg’s contributions rely on traditional facets of international politics and domestic political actors, Fredrik Egefur, in his contribution (Chapter 3), looks at powerful non-­governmental actors of foreign policy, namely international peace movements. He analyses their ideological roots and describes their subdivisions in Sweden during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a period when these movements were significantly impacting the domestic public debate. Two organizations, the International Peace Bureau (IPB) and the Second International (SI), grew rapidly during this period, 1889–1914. The IPB was ideologically rooted in liberalism, and championed the idea that individual actors could collaborate with legal institutions to prevent war. The SI was a socialist organization which argued that real peace could only be achieved in a socialist society. Both movements promoted internationalism, and both believed that international arbitration courts and international law were significant tools for preventing war. After describing the international scene in which these peace movements operated, Egefur turns his attention to Sweden and the Swedish subdivisions of these organizations. The Swedish Peace and Arbitration Association (Svenska freds- och ­skiljedomstolsföreningen – ­SFSF) was founded in 1883 by liberal parliamentarians who called for regulations for disarmament and a unilateral neutrality proclamation. The SFSF was originally formed in opposition to proposals that Swedish prime minister Arvid Posse had made concerning a new military order in the early 1880s. The SFSF published writings, newspapers and pamphlets and arranged lectures. It collaborated with Free Church parishes and sobriety associations, labour clubs and the suffrage movement. It promoted free trade, believing that closer trade relations between countries would prevent war. Divisions appeared within the SFSF when it came to relations with Norway, but the association eventually cooperated with its Norwegian counterparts and actively supported the Norwegians in the dissolution of the union in 1905. The SFSF and the labour movement collaborated in standing against Posse’s government. The labour peace movement was subsumed by the Swedish Social Democratic Party (SAP). In the early twentieth century, the SAP had

8  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

two competing youth unions. The main differences between the Young Socialists and the Young Democrats related to anti-­militarism. The Young Socialists were influenced by emerging French syndicalists and anarchists, and they opposed the new law that had been passed in Sweden in 1901 mandating the introduction of general military service in the country. The Young Socialists’ criticism of Sweden’s military threats against Norway coincided with this increased militarization. As Egefur points out, anti-­war sentiments more generally were demonstrated on two levels in Sweden during this period. One was the bourgeois peace movement, which was dominated by activists who had parliamentary power, and cultural personalities and activists such as the feminist writer Ellen Key, the painter Carl Larsson and the museum manager Richard Bergh. The second form of civil opposition was exemplified by groups such as the Young Socialists. Egefur puts the Swedish anti-­war sentiments in an international context, revealing that the Swedish experience was not unique. Liberal and socialist anti-­war movements in Sweden drew heavily from their international counterparts. Moreover, the women’s rights movement was deeply engaged in anti-­war campaigns. In 1935, for example, the Swedish section of the Women’s International League of Peace and Freedom (WILPF) gathered together 20,000 liberal and social democratic women to protest against war.19 Women also fought for equality and peace in connection with the dissolution of the union between Sweden and Norway.20 In Chapter 4, Anne Hedén focuses on one strong yet politically ambiguous women’s organization, the Swedish Women’s Voluntary Defence Organization (Svenska Lottakåren). The contradictory nature of the organization came from the fact that while on the one hand it was a military association directly linked to Sweden’s defence forces, on the other it worked for peace and participated in the international peace movement. Hedén focuses in particular on the ways in which this association was involved in and related to peacebuilding during the Second World War up until the 1960s. The Swedish Women’s Voluntary Defence Organization was founded in 1924 by wives of officers. It was established within the context of a conservative militaristic mobilization against Parliament’s decision to reduce the Swedish army. The organization grew significantly during the Second World War, as the Swedish government began promoting civilian defence planning. Although it was marked out as a middle- and upper-­ class women’s association in its initial years, the influx of women from various social backgrounds, particularly working-­class women, during the early 1940s helped the organization grow. By 1941 it had around 110,000 ­members – a­ n impressive membership in Sweden. Hedén points out that

Introduction • 9

the association experienced some class-­based tensions, but that its female-­ friendship ideology remained. Hedén explains how the organization was characterized by the idea of social motherhood and the notion that women are the ‘matrons’ of society. During the Second World War the women performed various voluntary assignments, such as in liaison centres and aircraft reconnaissance. They set up canteens and collected money for refugees. After the war, the organization adjusted to peacebuilding efforts and took a pragmatic stance towards the realities of postwar society. New activities included arranging youth summer camps, organizing summer colonies for children, undertaking humanitarian assignments and coordinating nurseries. The group also raised money for various humanitarian causes, often in close contact with other organizations such as the Red Cross. Hedén explains that these new ambitions were connected by some observers to the changing identity of the group and to Sweden’s international position as a country that promoted peace and prosperity. Like Egefur, Hedén shows how Sweden’s development took its lead from international movements, and describes how the group collaborated with its counterparts in other countries. Since its inception, Lottakåren had had close contact with sister organizations in the Netherlands, Switzerland, Austria, Finland, Norway and Denmark. Hedén also discusses the importance of the organization within a domestic context. When women started entering the Swedish labour force in larger numbers in the 1960s, the Swedish Women’s Voluntary Defence Organization experienced difficulties attracting new members. To retain its allure, Lottakåren framed membership as advantageous for career development. Women could gain valuable experience in the group which could launch their future careers within the Swedish public sphere. In this way, the Swedish Women’s Voluntary Defence Organization also put itself at the centre of the mainstream modernization of Sweden and of the country’s new gender equality efforts. Turning away from the internal workings of Swedish society, in Chapter 5 Janne Väistö examines how the question of the status of the Swedish language in Finland from around 1917 influenced cultural and political ties between the two countries, and indeed affected security and stability in the Nordic region until the end of the Cold War. Finland and Sweden share over 500 years of history. From the thirteenth century up until 1809 Finland formed the eastern part of the Swedish realm. In 1809, Finland was incorporated into the Russian empire as the Grand Dutchy of Finland. In 1917, as an outcome of the Russian Revolution, Finland became an independent nation for the first time. This long common history with Sweden has meant, however, that Finland is home to a ­politically

10  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

and economically influential Swedish-­speaking minority. Väistö focuses on how the Swedish language, as one of the two official languages in Finland (together with Finnish), has played a significant geopolitical role within a Nordic security context. Väistö connects the status of the Swedish language in Finland to the larger context of Finnish incorporation into the Nordic cultural, economic and political community, with particular focus on the Cold War period. Finnish is a Uralic language, while Swedish, Danish and Norwegian are Germanic. By zooming in specifically on Finnish school reforms and on political discussions about the possibility of changing the status of the Swedish language, Väistö shows how the language question has related to wider issues of peace and security in Finland, Sweden, Norway and Denmark. Swedish diplomats in Finland followed the domestic debates on the status of the Swedish language closely. Finnish social democrats, for example, have generally seen cooperation with Sweden as something desirable for increasing Nordic integration and cooperation. Large numbers of Finnish migrant workers came to Sweden in the 1950s and 1960s, and the two countries remained close, even though Finland was not a ‘rich’ country until the 1970s. From a geopolitical point of view, Finland, as a democratic, Nordic, economic and political partner of Sweden, created a clear border between them both and the Soviet Union. The Danish and Norwegian press and governments also argued that a common Nordic language was important both for Nordic cooperation and for keeping Finland in the Western community. By helping to support the presence of the Swedish language in Finland, they believed that it was possible to maintain a joint Nordic identity. And so, what on the surface appeared to be a domestic issue which related merely to the Swedish language question in Finland was actually connected to matters of Nordic security, peace and stability. And while at times the issue led to tensions in Finnish-­Swedish political relations, it was also used by both countries during the Cold War as a counterweight to Soviet pressure. But with the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, and Swedish and Finnish membership in the European Union four years later, interest in the language issue in the Nordic region evaporated. Turning to Swedish neutrality in the twentieth century, Christopher Seiberlich, in Chapter 6, explains that it has been closely associated with the government power that the SAP retained in Sweden from the early 1930s to the late 1970s. In the 1970s, the link between neutrality, internationalism and peace efforts was embodied in the policy of solidarity.21 Seiberlich studies the Swedish policy toward the Global South, comparing the foreign policy ambitions of three social democratic governments in Sweden, West Germany and the Netherlands. By studying government

Introduction • 11

declarations, strategy papers, internal discussions and public speeches, he sets the Swedish case in a wider context, revealing that several aspects of the Swedish policy of neutrality during the 1970s were not unique. Seiberlich’s chapter shows the benefits of a comparative approach, as it details similarities and differences between the three countries. He emphasizes that the 1970s was a period in which social democratic parties shaped their foreign policies in new ways. Labour movements had already by the nineteenth century connected the peaceful international order to social and economic equality, with the presumption that economic development would follow.22 In the 1970s, the foreign policy of social democratic governments began to link a peaceful world order to social developments in the Global South. The Swedish prime minister, Olof Palme, was far from the only politician to underline the importance of economic development and equality to international peace. Seiberlich’s comparative approach shows that social democratic parties in several European countries pursued similar projects, and that the push for social and economic equality and justice in their perception of peace should be understood as a leftist spin on larger debates about the changing nature of foreign politics in the 1970s. Seiberlich also shows that the new peace policy was problematic in several ways. The idea that the economic and social development of the Global South went hand in hand with the abolition of colonialism persisted. The 1970s was a decade of armed struggle in the Portuguese colonies, Rhodesia and South Africa. The struggle against colonial oppression in the Global South and the liberation movement as a whole were perceived as necessary for a durable international peace. According to the labour movement, the bloody liberation wars in Africa were a precursor to a new, peaceful international order, just as the nineteenth-­century class struggle had been. This revealed the ideological roots of the concept of international peace among social democratic movements, but it was far from how it had been understood throughout Sweden’s 200-­year history of peace. We opened this introduction by stating that Sweden’s history of 200 years of peace is unique in Europe. Nevertheless, its lasting peace has not been an outcome of a consistent, conscious and active foreign policy of ­neutrality – ­as it is often presented by politicians. The chapters of this book show that Swedish foreign policy has followed very disparate aims over the course of time, political actors have seldom shared political visions, and, moreover, Swedish priorities have rarely played an important role in major international conflicts. Sweden is a small state, and a small state’s foreign policy is always a balance between external and internal factors. In Sweden’s case this means the geopolitical situation, or its own level of strategic exposure. The lack of

12  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

great powers’ interest in the Nordic region in the nineteenth century is one way to explain why Sweden was able to stay out of w ­ ars – w ­ hich applies to the First World War (and explains why Norway and Denmark were also able to stay out of this conflict). The situation changed in 1939, after which Sweden’s strategic exposure increased during the Second World War and the Cold War. Even today it is open for discussion how important Swedish ­territory – ­and the Nordic region as a w ­ hole – i­ s with respect to the strategic interests of Russia, the United States or NATO. Deepening collaboration between NATO and the two Nordic non-­aligned states, Sweden and Finland, along with Denmark’s and Norway’s membership of NATO, would suggest that the region remains geopolitically important and strategically exposed, meaning that in a future conflict the kind of voluntary neutrality that was possible in the nineteenth century will be difficult to maintain.23 The contributions to this book also demonstrate the important role of internationalism and non-­governmental organizations and actors in shaping the self-­image of Sweden as a peaceful nation. Since the late nineteenth century the different ideologies of internationalism have influenced both the perception and practice of Swedish foreign policy. The importance of these factors has been underestimated, and they are often omitted in studies of the long peace in Sweden and attempts to understand Swedish foreign policy. We hope that this book, situated outside the traditional framework of foreign policy studies, will help us to re-­evaluate such factors and stimulate interest in this history, both in Sweden and internationally.

Acknowledgements This volume has received support from Olle Engkvists Stiftelse. Nevra Biltekin has a PhD in history from Stockholm University. She has been affiliated with the Northern European Studies Institute at Humboldt University–Berlin, and the Hans Blix Center for the History of International Relations at Stockholm University. Her research has focused on unofficial diplomacy and gender in transnational relations during the twentieth century. Leos Müller is Professor of History and the Head of the Centre for Maritime Studies at Stockholm University. His research interests include global history, the history of early modern and modern neutrality, and Swedish maritime history from the early modern time to the present. His

Introduction • 13

recent publications include Sveriges första globala århundrade: En 1700-tals historia (2018) and Neutrality in World History: Themes in World History (2019). Magnus Petersson is Professor of International Relations and Head of Department for Economic History and International Relations at Stockholm University. Previously he has been Analyst at the Swedish Defence Research Agency (2020–2021), Professor of Modern History at the Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies (2008–2020) and Lecturer, Director of Studies and Head of Research and Development at the Swedish Defence University (1998–2008). He has published widely on Swedish, Nordic and Transatlantic defence and security issues.

Notes   1. Joachim Remak, A Very Civil War: The Swiss Sonderbund War of 1847 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993).  2. This is especially true when compared to research on neighbouring Norway and Denmark; see Robert Dalsjö and Magnus Petersson, ‘200 år av fred: Dags för ett arbete om svensk utrikes- och säkerhetspolitik 1814–2014’, Historisk tidskrift 134(2), 2014, 248–258.   3. Bo Stråth, Union och demokrati: de förenade rikena Sverige och Norge 1814–1905 (Nora: Nya Doxa, 2005). On the rising conflict between Sweden and Norway, see Jörgen Weibull, Inför unionsupplösningen 1905 Konsulatfrågan (Stockholm: Norstedt, 1962).); and Sven Eliaeson and Ragnar Björk, Union & Secession (Stockholm: Carlsson, 2000). On the Swedish-­Norwegian consuls and foreign policy, see Aryo Makko, European Small States and the Role of Consuls in the Age of Empire (Leiden: Brill, 2020).  4. See, for example, Alf W. Johansson, Per Albin och kriget: samlingsregeringen och utrikespolitiken under andra världskriget (Stockholm: Tiden, 1995); Klas Åmark, Att bo granne med ondskan: Sveriges förhållande till nazismen, Nazityskland och förintelsen (Stockholm: Bonnier, 2011); Lars M. Andersson and Mattias Tydén, Sverige och Nazityskland: Skuldfrågor och moraldebatt (Stockholm: Daidalos, 2007); and Wilhelm M. Carlgren, Svensk utrikespolitik 1939–1945 (Stockholm: Allmänna Förlaget, 1973).  5. Marie Cronqvist, ‘Det befästa folkhemmet: Kallt krig och varm välfärd i svensk civilförsvarskultur’, in M. Jerneck (ed.), Fred i realpolitikens skugga (Lund: Studentlitteratur, 2009).   6. Lennart Schön, An Economic History of Modern Sweden (London: Routledge, 2012).   7. Michael F. Metcalf (ed.), The Riksdag: A History of the Swedish Parliament, Swedish Riksdag (Stockholm: Riksdagen, 1987); Josefin Rönnbäck, Politikens genusgränser: den kvinnliga rösträttsrörelsen och kampen för kvinnors politiska medborgarskap 1902–1921 (Stockholm: Atlas, 2004).  8. Bo Huldt, Sweden, the United Nations, and Decolonization: A Study of Swedish Participation in the Fourth Committee of the General Assembly 1946–69 (Stockholm: Esselte Studium, 1974).

14  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

  9. Norbert Götz, Deliberative Diplomacy: The Nordic Approach to Global Governance and Societal Representation at the United Nations (Dordrecht: Republic of Letters, 2011). 10. Christopher S. Browning, ‘Branding Nordicity: Models, Identity and the Decline of Exceptionalism’, Cooperation and Conflict: Journal of the Nordic International Studies Association 42(1), 2007, 27–51. 11. Peter Wallensteen and Isak Svensson, Fredens diplomater: nordisk medling från Bernadotte till Ahtisaari (Stockholm: Santérus, 2016). 12. See, for example, Karin Aggestam and Annika Bergman Rosamond, ‘Feminist Foreign Policy 3.0: Advancing Ethics and Gender Equality in Global Politics’, SAIS Review of International Affairs 39(1), 2019, 37–48. 13. Maria-­Pia Boëthius, Heder och samvete: Sverige och andra världskriget (Stockholm, Norstedts, 1991); Robert Dalsjö, Life Line Lost: The Rise and Fall of Neutral Sweden’s Reserve Option of Wartime Help from the West (Stockholm: Santérus, 2006); Mikael Holmström, Den dolda alliansen: Sveriges hemliga NATO-förbindelser (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2012). 14. Magnus Petersson, ‘“The Allied Partner”: Sweden and NATO through the Realist– Idealist Lens’, in Andrew Cottey (ed.), The European Neutrals and NATO: Nonalignment, Partnership, Membership (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018). 15. Government Communication 2019/20: 17, 4. 16. Speech delivered in connection to Sweden’s non-­permanent membership of the United Nations Security Council: https://www.regeringen.se/tal/2017/12/anforan​ de-­infor-­um-­wallstroms-­deltagande-­vid-­seminarium-­om-­klimat-­och-­sakerhet-­8d​ecember-­2017/ (accessed 19  November 2020). This opinion was shared by Hans Blix; see ‘Stolthet och lagar: Ett rundabordssamtal med Hans Blix, Katarina Engberg och Pierre Schori’, in Jenny Björkman and Arne Jarrick (eds), Krig fred: RJ:s årsbok 2016/2017 (Stockholm: Makadam, 2016), 255–256. 17. See, for example, Michał Ryszard Czarny, Sweden: From Neutrality to International Solidarity (Cham: Springer, 2018); Christine Agius, The Social Construction of Swedish Neutrality: Challenges to Swedish Identity and Sovereignty (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006); Mikael af Malmborg, Neutrality and Statebuilding in Sweden (Gordonsville: Palgrave, 2001); Per Cramér, Neutralitet och europeisk integration (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1998); Bo Stråth, Folkhemmet mot Europa: ett historiskt perspektiv på 90-talet (Stockholm: Tiden, 1993); and Krister Wahlbäck, The Roots of Swedish Neutrality (Stockholm: The Swedish Institute, 1986). 18. The distinction is elaborated upon in Maartje Abbenhuis’ overview of the nineteenth-­ century history of neutrality; see Maartje M. Abbenhuis, An Age of Neutrals: Great Power Politics, 1815–1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). 19. Irene Andersson, ‘“Women’s Unarmed Uprising against War”: A Swedish Peace Protest in 1935’, Journal of Peace Research 40(4), 2003, 395–412. 20. Inger Hammar, För freden och rösträtten: kvinnorna och den svensk-norska unionens sista dagar (Lund: Nordic Academic Press, 2004). 21. See Agius, Social Construction, 6. 22. Leos Müller, Neutrality in World History (New York: Routledge, 2019), 97–99. 23. Joakim Erma Møller and Magnus Petersson, ‘Sweden, Finland, and the Defence of the Nordic-­Baltic R ­ egion – W ­ ays of British Leadership’, in Rob Johnson and Janne Haaland Matlary (eds), The United Kingdom’s Defence after Brexit: Britain’s Alliances, Coalitions, and Partnerships (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018).

Introduction • 15

Bibliography Abbenhuis, Maartje M. An Age of Neutrals: Great Power Politics, 1815–1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). Aggestam, Karin and Annika Bergman Rosamond. ‘Feminist Foreign Policy 3.0: Advancing Ethics and Gender Equality in Global Politics’, SAIS Review of International Affairs 39(1), 2019, 37–48. Agius, Christine. The Social Construction of Swedish Neutrality: Challenges to Swedish Identity and Sovereignty (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2006). Åmark, Klas. Att bo granne med ondskan: Sveriges förhållande till nazismen, Nazityskland och förintelsen (Stockholm: Bonnier, 2011). Andersson, Irene. ‘“Women’s Unarmed Uprising against War”: A Swedish Peace Protest in 1935’, Journal of Peace Research 40(4), 2003, 395–412. Andersson, Lars M. and Mattias Tydén. Sverige och Nazityskland: Skuldfrågor och moraldebatt (Stockholm: Daidalos, 2007). Boëthius, Maria-­Pia. Heder och samvete: Sverige och andra världskriget (Stockholm, Norstedts, 1991). Browning, Christopher S. ‘Branding Nordicity: Models, Identity and the Decline of Exceptionalism’, Cooperation and Conflict: Journal of the Nordic International Studies Association 42(1), 2007, 27–51. Carlgren, Wilhelm M. Svensk utrikespolitik 1939–1945 (Stockholm: Allmänna Förlaget, 1973). Cramér, Per. Neutralitet och europeisk integration (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1998). Cronqvist, Marie. ‘Det befästa folkhemmet: Kallt krig och varm välfärd i svensk civilförsvarskultur’, in M. Jerneck (ed.), Fred i realpolitikens skugga (Lund: Studentlitteratur, 2009). Czarny, Michał Ryszard. Sweden: From Neutrality to International Solidarity (Cham: Springer, 2018). Dalsjö, Robert. Life Line Lost: The Rise and Fall of Neutral Sweden’s Reserve Option of Wartime Help from the West (Stockholm: Santérus, 2006). Dalsjö, Robert and Magnus Petersson. ‘200 år av fred: Dags för ett arbete om svensk utrikes- och säkerhetspolitik 1814–2014’, Historisk tidskrift 134(2), 2014, 248–258. Eliaeson, Sven and Ragnar Björk. Union & Secession (Stockholm: Carlsson, 2000). Götz, Norbert. Deliberative Diplomacy: The Nordic Approach to Global Governance and Societal Representation at the United Nations (Dordrecht: Republic of Letters, 2011). Hammar, Inger. För freden och rösträtten: kvinnorna och den svensk-norska unionens sista dagar (Lund: Nordic Academic Press, 2004). Holmström, Mikael. Den dolda alliansen: Sveriges hemliga NATO-förbindelser (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2012). Huldt, Bo. Sweden, the United Nations, and Decolonization: A Study of Swedish Participation in the Fourth Committee of the General Assembly 1946–69 (Stockholm: Esselte Studium, 1974). Johansson, Alf W. Per Albin och kriget: samlingsregeringen och utrikespolitiken under andra världskriget (Stockholm: Tiden, 1995). Makko, Aryo. European Small States and the Role of Consuls in the Age of Empire (Leiden: Brill, 2020). Malmborg, Mikael af. Neutrality and Statebuilding in Sweden (Gordonsville: Palgrave, 2001).

16  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

Metcalf, Michael F. (ed.). The Riksdag: A History of the Swedish Parliament, Swedish Riksdag (Stockholm: Riksdagen, 1987). Møller, Joakim Erma and Magnus Petersson. ‘Sweden, Finland, and the Defence of the Nordic-­Baltic ­Region – ­Ways of British Leadership’, in Rob Johnson and Janne Haaland Matlary (eds), The United Kingdom’s Defence after Brexit: Britain’s Alliances, Coalitions, and Partnerships (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018). Müller, Leos. Neutrality in World History (New York: Routledge, 2019). Petersson, Magnus. ‘“The Allied Partner”: Sweden and NATO through the Realist–Idealist Lens’, in Andrew Cottey (ed.), The European Neutrals and NATO: Non-alignment, Partnership, Membership (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018). Remak, Joachim. A Very Civil War: The Swiss Sonderbund War of 1847 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993). Rönnbäck, Josefin. Politikens genusgränser: den kvinnliga rösträttsrörelsen och kampen för kvinnors politiska medborgarskap 1902–1921 (Stockholm: Atlas, 2004). Schön, Lennart. An Economic History of Modern Sweden (London: Routledge, 2012). ‘Stolthet och lagar: Ett rundabordssamtal med Hans Blix, Katarina Engberg och Pierre Schori’, in Jenny Björkman and Arne Jarrick (eds), Krig fred: RJ:s årsbok 2016/2017 (Stockholm: Makadam, 2016), 255–256. Stråth, Bo. Folkhemmet mot Europa: ett historiskt perspektiv på 90-talet (Stockholm: Tiden, 1993). _______. Union och demokrati: de förenade rikena Sverige och Norge 1814–1905 (Nora: Nya Doxa, 2005). Wahlbäck, Krister. The Roots of Swedish Neutrality (Stockholm: The Swedish Institute, 1986). Wallensteen, Peter and Isak Svensson. Fredens diplomater: nordisk medling från Bernadotte till Ahtisaari (Stockholm: Santérus, 2016). Weibull, Jörgen. Inför unionsupplösningen 1905. Konsulatfrågan (Stockholm: Norstedt, 1962).

Chapter 1

‘Long Peace’, Neutrality and SwedenNorway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856 Leos Müller

R Introduction Sweden managed to stay out of the Second World War and then maintain its neutrality throughout the whole post-­war period, a historical experience that has gradually built up its image as quintessentially neutral. This diplomatic situation is perhaps only comparable with that of Switzerland, another country that stayed out of the conflagration of the Second World War, and the perception of Sweden as inherently neutral has been consolidated by most of the research on Swedish neutrality relating to the period after 1939.1 When the history of Sweden’s neutrality is told, it is often presented as one of continuity and longevity, an unbroken line going back to the beginning of the nineteenth ­century – ­to the Congress of Vienna, or to King Charles XIV John’s neutrality declaration of 1834.2 But the story is much more complex and less straightfoward than we might think. There was actually no such unbroken line; in fact, several times Sweden was brought to the brink of war even in the nineteenth c­ entury – ­a century that has been labelled Europe’s most peaceful in history. More strikingly, this chapter shows that the origins of Sweden’s neutrality can be traced back even further, to the concept of early modern maritime neutrality. It was Sweden’s maritime policy during the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, not least its neutral stance until 1805, which played an important role in framing its foreign relations in the post-­Vienna Congress world.

18 • Leos Müller

We must understand this situation in the context of Sweden’s decline from a middle-­ranking eighteenth-­century state into a small state with restricted foreign policy options. By doing so, we can frame Sweden’s position in terms of territorial neutrality, specifically of the Union of Sweden-­Norway. Through territorial neutrality, a state forbids another state’s armies from passing through or even entering its territory in circumstances of war. A territorially neutral state refuses to take part in military operations, alongside or against belligerents, though it also must take proper measures to defend its territory. This means that it has to invest in an army and navy in order to be capable of defending itself. Territorial neutrality is not the only type of neutrality. For a long time in Sweden’s and many other neutral states’ history, maritime neutrality has also played a key role.3 In early modern times, maritime neutrality was a viable policy option, whereas territorial neutrality was too often impossible to sustain. Maritime neutrality is declared by a non-­belligerent (i.e. neutral) state as the right to carry on trade and shipping with other neutral states, or with belligerents in wartime.4 This right is incorporated in the law of nations. The maritime rights of neutrals were contested by belligerent states early on, from at least the time of Hugo Grotius, the Dutch scholar and ‘father’ of international law, in the early seventeenth century. The issue was that trade under a neutral flag can benefit one belligerent more than another: for example, by supplying them with weapons, ammunition or troops, or by sending them money to pay for their war effort. Sweden, as a major trading and shipping nation, exploited maritime neutrality during the Anglo-­Dutch Wars in the 1650s and 1670s and from then onwards.5 Evidence of Sweden’s so-­called ‘neutrality’ can thus be traced back at least to the late seventeenth century. But neutral shipping and trade under the Swedish flag only really began to flourish in the eighteenth century, during the frequent Anglo-­French wars.6 This exploitation of maritime neutrality outside the Baltic Sea also explains the occasional neutrality partnerships Sweden made with Denmark and R ­ ussia – o­ therwise Sweden’s constant opponents in the Baltic. The purpose of this chapter is to explain how and why the nature of Sweden’s neutrality changed between the French Revolutionary Wars (1792–1815) and the Crimean War (1853–1856). The Congress of Vienna (1814–1815) introduced a new type of neutrality that eventually affected Switzerland and the Low C ­ ountries – o­ r, more specifically, ­Belgium – ­after 1830. This enforced neutrality from above (‘guaranteed neutrality’) had little relevance for Sweden-­Norway and Denmark because of the differences between the geopolitical situation of the Low Countries and Switzerland on the one hand and northern Europe on the other. At the

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  19

same time, the significance of maritime neutrality was greatly weakened. Sweden-­Norway’s and Denmark’s foreign policy after 1815 reflected the specific conditions of the Baltic region, and especially Russia’s dominance in the region. I look at Sweden’s ambiguous relationship with Russia during Charles XIV John’s reign and his restricted foreign policy options to determine what we mean by a viable neutrality policy, and if Sweden can be said to have adopted such a policy. I also pay attention to the shifting agency that was a result of the power struggle between the king and other actors. The gradual transformation of the Baltic Sea from an enclosed to an open sea was also connected to Sweden’s decline from a middle-­ranking eighteenth-­century state to Bernadotte‘s ‘Little Sweden’, and I consider what the eventual opening of the Baltic Sea in mid-­century meant for Sweden’s security and neutrality policy.

The Heyday of Sweden’s Maritime Neutrality, 1794–1805 Sweden carried out its policy of maritime neutrality in the Seven Years’ War (1756–1757), and most successfully during the American Revolutionary War (1776–1783). Swedish shipping under neutral flag expanded, and around 1785 the Swedish merchant fleet was the fifth biggest in Europe, no doubt as an outcome of the wartime boom, when all other rivals, with the exception of Denmark, were engaged in fighting. The outbreak of the French Revolutionary Wars in 1792 did not entail any new direction in Sweden’s foreign policy. Gustav IV Adolf was too young to take over the throne, and instead the country was ruled by Baron Gustaf Adolph Reuterholm as a proxy regent of Duke Karl, the brother of the assassinated Gustav III.7 Reuterholm made the foreign policy decision not to endanger relations with France or Russia. Sweden’s territory was remote from the continental campaigns of revolutionary France and far from the realms of France’s enemies. Yet in practice Reuterholm continued with the policy of promoting trade and shipping under neutral Swedish flag that had been established in the earlier eighteenth-­century wars.8 Exports were booming, as was shipping. Sweden and Denmark followed the same path, and in 1794 the two Nordic neutrals even signed a defensive convention which actually echoed an earlier one that they had signed in 1756, at the beginning of the Seven Years’ War. They promised to cooperate to protect the Baltic Sea, keeping it out of the continental war by declaring it a closed sea (mare clausum) to other naval powers. On the other side of the Atlantic, the United States also declared its neutrality in 1793 in a proclamation made by George

20 • Leos Müller

Washington.9 But the defensive convention made no guarantees that the states would help merchants and shipowners harassed by belligerents beyond the Baltic Sea.10 The convoying of merchant ships by naval vessels was considered too dangerous. Between 1793 and 1796 the British navy and British privateers (private vessels) that were engaged in the war against revolutionary France behaved in a fairly civilized manner towards the neutrals. The French privateers were similarly restrained when it came to the neutral Nordic flags. Relatively few Swedish vessels were captured as prizes. Prizes, moreover, were often released with freight costs paid and cargoes purchased. The first four years of the war were thus profitable and relatively risk-­free. In 1796, Gustav IV Adolf came of age, assuming the throne and dismissing Reuterholm. The young king’s stance towards revolutionary France was much more hostile than Reuterholm’s, but he continued with the cautious neutrality policy on the advice of Fredrik Wilhelm Ehrenheim, the head of the foreign policy division in Stockholm (the so-­called Utrikesexpeditionen).11 Ehrenheim was an experienced diplomat, with service in London and Copenhagen in his portfolio. He worked closely with the powerful Danish minister of foreign affairs, A.P. Bernstorff, ensuring that Danish and Swedish policies would continue to be coordinated. In 1796 and 1797, however, the neutrals’ situation deteriorated, as the Revolutionary Wars descended into an increasingly violent conflagration. In 1796, the French revolutionary government abandoned friendly principles of trade and shipping under neutral flags, and French privateers began to take Swedish and Danish prizes. The British navy strengthened its grip on the Mediterranean and began to treat neutrals with more hostility. The number of prize-­takings soared, and Nordic shipowners and merchants begged their governments to act. In 1797, Copenhagen and Stockholm responded.12 This meant that ­convoys – ­groups of merchant ­vessels – ­were now protected by Swedish or Danish naval ships. This was undoubtedly a risky strategy. Taking an unprotected ship as a prize was, in principle, a legal and commercial matter. Such cases were decided in the belligerents’ prize courts, and eventual losses would ideally be covered by the shipowners’ or freighters’ insurance.13 Convoying was very different. Naval protection of convoys demanded a proper military response to prize-­taking; if the commander failed to respond properly, he risked a court-­martial at home. Such incidents could quickly escalate into open exchanges of fire between neutral and belligerent naval ships. The situation deteriorated further in 1798–1800. In 1798, the British navy seized two Swedish merchant convoys protected by naval frigates,

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  21

and in 1799 and 1800 the British exchanged fire with Danish naval vessels.14 The power threatening Nordic maritime neutrality was now not revolutionary France but Britain. In autumn 1800, the Russian tsar, Paul, stepped forward with a proposal to the Swedish and Danish kings: the formation of the Second League of Armed Neutrality. The First League of Armed Neutrality, which had operated during the American Revolutionary War (1780–1783), had also been a coalition of Russia, Denmark and Sweden. This first league had worked well for the Nordic countries, even though there had been very little real naval cooperation, as shipping under neutral flag had allowed them to grow into global carriers.15 In 1800, the situation was quite different. Sweden and Denmark were now reluctantly forced into becoming tools of the tsar’s overambitious continental ­policy – ­which had very little to do with their own commercial interests. The tsar seized all British merchant vessels in Russian ports, and the British responded by taking all of the League’s vessels in Britain. More significantly, they occupied the Danish and Swedish islands in the West Indies. In March 1801, the British navy, under the command of Sir Hyde Parker and Lord Nelson, sailed along the straits between Sweden and Denmark, and on 2 April they defeated the Danes at the first battle of Copenhagen. After the battle, the British had intended to treat Russia and Sweden separately, but the campaign was brought to a sudden end when news of the assassination of Tsar Paul reached the combatants. The new regime in St Petersburg, under Paul’s son Alexander I, reversed Russia’s foreign policy towards Britain, and the Second League of Armed Neutrality was dissolved. A year later, the peace of Amiens between Napoleon and Britain ended the first stage of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. Fighting recommenced in 1803, and this time it was even more intense and destructive. Daniel Bell, historian of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, describes the conflict as the first total war,16 a war in which preserving neutrality became increasingly challenging. By August 1805, the years of neutrality were over. Sweden entered the war on the side of the anti-­French coalition of Russia, Britain, Austria and Prussia. King Gustav IV Adolf’s hatred of Napoleon, and his hopes that such a great coalition would beat France, were the cause. But the years 1805–1807 were Napoleon’s most triumphant. In a series of spectacular victories he defeated Austria, Prussia and Russia one by one. The defeat of Russia, and the following Treaty of Tilsit in 1807 between Napoleon and Tsar Alexander I, paved the way for the Finnish War of 1808–­1809 – a­nd Sweden’s loss of ­Finland – ­and the constitutional revolution that removed

22 • Leos Müller

Gustav IV Adolf from power. Denmark’s neutrality had already collapsed in 1807 when the British navy bombarded Copenhagen and took the whole Danish navy as a prize in the second battle of Copenhagen. For the Nordic states, neutrality had been a rational political choice in the first phase of the French Revolutionary Wars. After 1805 this policy was no longer sustainable, principally due to the total character of contemporary warfare and its transformed geopolitics.17 The fact that the wars reached the Baltic region made Danish and Swedish neutrality even less viable. The French occupied Swedish Pomerania; Russia took Finland; and Britain bombarded Copenhagen, seized the Danish navy and severed connections between Copenhagen and the overseas parts of the Danish state (Norway, Iceland and the colonies). After 1807, only the United States, on the other side of the Atlantic, maintained its neutrality; but even the United States was drawn into the Napoleonic Wars, via the war of 1812.

The Congress of Vienna, Neutralization and Neutrality When looking at nineteenth-­ century neutrality, scholars distinguish between three variants: guaranteed permanent neutrality, long-­ term voluntary neutrality and occasional neutrality.18 Occasional neutrality is the proper neutrality of any state that declares neutrality at the outbreak of war between two (or more) other states. Occasional neutrality was often employed by great powers seeking to avoid engagement in limited/ regional conflicts. This was a typical tool of that nineteenth-­century politics of balance, the Congress of Vienna system. For example, Britain, in spite of its status as the leading global power, was ‘occasionally’ neutral in most European wars between 1815 and 1914. Austria, Russia, France and Prussia also frequently used the policy of occasional neutrality. Occasional neutrality should not be understood as a defensive or passive policy. It was just the opposite. It was proactive, a way of containing conflicts within a limited space and restricting them to a few participants. The fact that the great powers restrained their use of power explains why the nineteenth century in Europe was quite peaceful. But it in no way means that the great powers abolished war as a tool of politics. Another way to reduce tensions among the great powers and restrict the use of violence was to neutralize territories of great political or military significance. Over the course of the French Revolutionary Wars such strategically sensitive territories were the Low Countries and Switzerland. Between 1792 and 1815, French, Austrian and Russian troops regularly marched across Switzerland’s territory. The French invaded the Swiss

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  23

Confederation and turned it into the ‘allied’ Helvetic Republic. Swiss independence was restored in 1815, and the Congress of Vienna declared Switzerland a permanent neutral s­tate – ­neutrality that was, in a way, enforced upon it; following the Congress, Switzerland’s capacity to determine its own independent foreign policy was restricted. This guaranteed permanent neutrality was the invention of the Congress of Vienna, one of the new tools of the nineteenth-­century international order. The Revolutionary Wars also turned the territory of the Low Countries into a ­battlefield – ­and transformed the Dutch state into a French ‘allied’ Batavian Republic. The neutralization of the Low Countries in 1814–1815 reduced perceptible tensions between Austria, Prussia and France; it also ended the prospect of a French (or continental) invasion of Britain via the Low Countries. The Vienna powers transformed the Low Countries into a new Dutch ­Kingdom – a­ strange formation, considering the centuries-­ long history of the republic of the United Provinces. The new state was unstable, and as early as 1830 the southern Catholic part, Belgium, had broken free. Belgium’s permanent neutrality was guaranteed by the Vienna great powers in the Treaty of London (1839). The practice of neutralization was also employed in other conflict spots, for example in Cracow, the Ionian Islands, the Suez Canal and Siam.19 Yet permanent neutrality was meaningful only if it was guaranteed by great powers in all-­encompassing system settlements. For Belgium and Switzerland, not only did guaranteed neutrality status curtail their options in foreign policy, defence and other political matters, it also made them perfect platforms for international diplomacy and congresses, homes of international organizations and, in the long term, safe havens for refugees and international money. Their nineteenth-­century status of permanent neutrality remains the reason why Geneva, Brussels and The Hague host so many international organizations and institutions.20 The third variant of nineteenth-­century neutrality was long-­term voluntary neutrality. Unlike occasional neutrality, long-­term voluntary neutrality defines a neutral state’s long-­term obligation not to become involved in a war. But, unlike permanent neutrality, neither the great powers nor the international system would guarantee a long-­term neutral’s status. In the nineteenth century, long-­term voluntary neutrals were free to make their foreign policy choices, but they also had to make their neutral position credible; this meant that they had to invest in their defensive capabilities. Typically, long-­term voluntary neutrals were small nations (in terms of military power) far away from political hot spots. Sweden and Denmark are often seen as examples of such states, but, as the events below will illustrate, not even these two states fit this definition of neutrality perfectly. For this reason, it is important to stress that this kind of neutrality

24 • Leos Müller

is not a static notion. The foreign policy of a state has to adjust when its geopolitical situation changes.21 Today, Sweden’s neutrality is perceived very much like that of the Swiss, a form of permanent neutrality, and the two neutrals are often put side by side as ‘typical’ neutral states. But their experiences of neutrality, their geopolitical and historical contexts, and their paths towards modern neutrality from about 1792 to 1939, were very different. Nineteenth-­ century Sweden was not a committed long-­term voluntary neutral. As we will see, Sweden’s neutrality throughout this period was both more vulnerable and more inconsistent than this designation allows.

Charles XIV John’s Policy 1812–1834 – Sweden-Norway’s ‘Finnlandisierung’ Years Charles XIV John’s policy of 1812 has often been explained as a kind of rational adjustment to Sweden’s new geopolitical situation after the Finnish War. As agreed by the Vienna Congress powers, the loss of Finland in 1809 in the Finnish War was compensated by the acquisition of Norway, for centuries a part of the Danish state. The deal was made between the great powers and Sweden and acknowledged by Denmark, which sided with Napoleon until the bitter end. The Norwegians rejected the settlement, however, and a short campaign under Marshall Bernadotte, the future Charles XIV John, was conducted in 1814. This was Sweden’s last war. Eventually, Norway accepted the Swedish king and a new union state (the Union) was formed. The United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway (Förenade Kungarikena Sverige och Norge) has been thought of as a relatively defensible territorial state situated in a vulnerable position between two contesting great ­powers – B ­ ritain and Russia.22 The idea of a ‘natural state’ was born, one which emerged from their shared enemies and strategic situation. This is also how it was framed by the king of the Union, Charles XIV John. After his later settlement with ­Russia – ­the Policy of ­1812 – ­Sweden’s security situation certainly improved.23 Yet this narrative of events and decisions can also be interpreted quite differently. Did the loss of Finland and the settlement with Russia actually improve the security of the state? Did the acquisition of Norway improve its defensive capability? The notion that in 1814 the Union of Sweden-­ Norway acquired ‘natural’ borders is based on modern perceptions of territorial defence, including efficient road transports, railways and the like. But in many ways, early modern Sweden’s surrounding coasts on the northern Baltic Sea provided more natural borders. Maritime links were

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  25

much more efficient than roads. And with its strong navy, the Baltic Sea functioned for Sweden as a bulwark against potential enemies.24 This was not the case either for the post-­1809 maritime borders, with the Russians holding naval bases in Helsinki (Helsingfors), Turku (Åbo) and the Åland Islands, or for Sweden’s main naval base in Karlskrona in southern Sweden. In fact, the Russians were planning to build another naval base on the Åland Islands, situated only a short sailing distance from Stockholm. These factors explain the turnabout in Sweden’s defence doctrine after 1815 with the adoption of the so-­called Centre Defence strategy (Centralförsvaret): a plan to secure the state from overseas invasion by abandoning the capital and the eastern coast to the enemy and concentrating defences in the centre of the country. This doctrine also drastically reduced the navy’s role in Sweden’s defence plans.25 The Union never worked in defensive terms, however, a fact that undermined the idea that there was any such thing as a ‘natural’ Scandinavian union. Norway’s Parliament (stortinget) had the right to veto the deployment of the Norwegian army and navy (even though it never needed to use it), while the Norwegians were never happy with the Union at all. With increasing tensions between the two parts of the Union in the late nineteenth century, Norway and Sweden actually began to see each other as potential foes.26 Thus, the argument that the Union was a good fit for the post-­1815 world is dubious. It might be argued, more plausibly, that the dissolution of the Union in 1905 actually improved Sweden’s security situation and made Sweden’s neutrality viable for the twentieth century. The dissolution of the Union made it possible for Sweden to stay neutral during the Second World War, while Norway was occupied. Sweden’s foreign policy in the decades after the 1809 catastrophe was to a significant degree shaped by Marshal Jean Baptiste Bernadotte, the future Charles XIV John. But it was a self-­defeating policy. For one thing, Bernadotte was elected as Charles XIII’s heir in 1810 with the hope of recovering Finland for Sweden. Bernadotte was Napoleon’s general, and he secured Napoleon’s support for the Swedish succession proposal.27 But in 1812 Bernadotte switched s­ides – t­he so-­called Policy of 1­ 812 – t­o form a special relationship with Tsar Alexander. This special relationship extended so far that Alexander eventually proposed putting Bernadotte on the restored French throne. This was, however, unacceptable to the other members of the alliance. Austria (Metternich) and Britain (Castlereagh) saw the restoration of the Bourbon family in Paris as the best way to incorporate France into the Vienna Congress system and to reinstate the Old Regime balance of power in Europe. They were extremely uneasy about Napoleon’s former marshal. The idea of putting this man, thought of as ‘an unpleasant upstart’ – and one, moreover, from a poor family

26 • Leos Müller

­ ackground – ­on the French throne, was untenable.28 A further impedib ment to accepting Bernadotte as Sweden’s ruler was his personal reliance on Tsar Alexander. This client-­like relationship naturally affected Charles XIV John’s foreign policy options. There was thus a frustrating distance between Bernadotte’s grand ambitions of playing a role in European ­politics – ­of being king or even emperor of ­France – ­and the reality of his dependence on the Russian tsar.29 In this sense, Sweden’s situation in the two decades after 1812 is reminiscent of Finland’s after 1944. Sweden was independent, but also, in some ways, Russia’s client state, with limited freedom in foreign policy. An event illustrating the situation was Sweden’s attempt in 1825 to sell five outdated warships to Colombia and Mexico, still in a struggle for independence from Spain. Russia, the leading power of the Holy Alliance, perceived this struggle in America as a menace to the old world order. The tsar threatened Sweden with war, and the sale of the warships was hastily stopped.30 In light of Sweden’s situation in the 1820s and 1830s, how should we understand Charles XIV John’s declaration of neutrality in 1834? Bernadotte’s sponsor, Tsar Alexander, had died in 1825. The declaration can thus be seen as Bernadotte’s marker of his ambition to play a larger European role, as a spokesman for smaller European states. We might also see it as a step towards a more independent Sweden, and a loosening of his dependency on Russia. The declaration was motivated by rising tensions between Russia and Britain, relating to the so-­called Eastern Question. This was, in principle, a dispute over Britain’s and Russia’s influence in the near and Middle ­East – t­he territories of the weakened Ottoman Empire. In the summer of 1833, Russia and the Ottoman Empire signed a treaty that effectively closed the entrance to the Black Sea to foreign naval s­hips – m ­ aking it a closed sea in time of war. As the British navy was the only global naval power, the agreement was understood to be clearly directed against Britain. A clash between the two nineteenth-­century superpowers was near, and Charles XIV John had to navigate between them. He issued his declaration of neutrality in January 1834, and aimed it at both Russia and Britain. In it, he asserted Sweden-­Norway’s strict and independent neutrality vis-­à-vis the two powers. One aspect of this impartiality was the guarantee of free and equal access for all naval vessels to all Swedish ports and open access to the Baltic Sea.31 But this was, in principle, pro-­British neutrality: Britain had no natural access to the Baltic Sea ports, meaning that gaining access to Swedish ports was of strategic advantage. In addition, the declaration expressed Charles XIV John’s intent to keep the Baltic Sea open. As mentioned above, the traditional Swedish and

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  27

Danish policy regarding the Baltic Sea had been to keep it closed to foreign navies. The neutrality collaboration between Denmark and Sweden (1756, 1794) and the two leagues of neutrality (1780–1783 and 1800–1801), including Russia, were all intended to keep the Baltic closed to belligerents, not least the British.32 The declaration of 1834 diverged from this policy. It meant opening the Baltic Sea to foreign navies. The reason was, of course, the opposite of the situation that had pertained since ­1809 – ­having once been Sweden’s bulwark against Russia, the Baltic Sea was now her potential enemy’s transport lane.

The Crimean War (1853–1856) and Sweden’s Neutrality Charles XIV John died in 1844. Oscar I’s (reign 1844–1859) foreign policy deviated from his father’s in a distinct way: he strongly pursued policies that liberated Sweden from Russia’s influence, a drive for emancipation which culminated in the Crimean War. Another new feature of Oscar’s reign was his increasing engagement in foreign policy, which contradicted Sweden’s traditional neutrality. The Scandinavism movement in Sweden, Norway and Denmark worked towards the unification of Scandinavia into one strong state that would play an active role on the European stage. The unification of Germany and Italy was the model. The nationalist advocates of Scandinavism saw Swedish-­Norwegian and Danish neutrality as a sign of weakness and cowardice, and they pushed for a more aggressive and even belligerent foreign policy. King Oscar I followed their line.33 The First Schleswig War between Prussia and Denmark, a case study in Jacob Westberg’s chapter, was the first test of Scandinavism. This war must also be seen as a part of the European revolutions of 1848,34 because it was also waged from the Danish and Prussian/German sides, all motivated by nationalist fervour. But it also showed that Swedish public support of an activist foreign policy was, in fact, limited.35 When Scandinavism was tested seriously in 1864, during the Second Schleswig War, it flopped. With the exception of the king there was no real political support for a Swedish-­Norwegian military engagement in a war against two great p ­ owers – P ­ russia and Austria. Swedish army officers were sceptical of the venture. They were well aware of the critically poor state of the Swedish armed forces.36 Nevertheless, Scandinavism as a phenomenon did demonstrate the strength of nationalism in the mid-­century and the fact that in Sweden there was no general support for neutrality. The most serious test of Sweden-­Norway’s foreign policy in the nineteenth century was the Crimean War. Until the outbreak of the war, the system of the Congress of Vienna was able to handle Russia peacefully,

28 • Leos Müller

but there were many clashes, especially between British and Russian interests in the East, as the crisis of 1833 illustrated. The Crimean War began in 1853 with a dispute about the rights of the Orthodox Church in the Ottoman Empire. Many Ottoman subjects belonged to the Orthodox Church. As the head of the Church, Tsar Nicholas claimed that its members in the Ottoman Empire must be under his protection. When an agreement on the status of the empire’s Orthodox subjects could not be reached, the dispute turned into a war. It began terribly for the Ottomans. Russia occupied the European parts of the Ottoman Empire (present-­day Romania and Moldova) and advanced towards the Ottoman capital, Constantinople. In the Black Sea, the Russian navy destroyed the Ottoman fleet at the battle of Sinope. In early 1854, after the disastrous Ottoman campaign, France and Britain agreed to halt Russia’s advance. They feared the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, with unprecedented possible consequences for the whole Vienna Congress system. They sent naval forces and troops to the Black Sea and launched the siege of Sevastopol, Russia’s main naval base in the Black Sea. After a drawn out and bloody eleven-­month siege, Sevastopol fell and the Russians sued for peace.37 Though the Crimean War is so-­ named because of the siege of Sevastopol in Crimea, the fact is that the second major theatre of the Crimean War was the Baltic Sea, which also confirms the war’s European character. By then, Charles XIV John’s neutrality proclamation of 1834 had indicated the importance of the Baltic Sea in a possible conflict between Russia and Britain. In fact, at the beginning of the Crimean War the Baltic was perceived as more important than the Black Sea.38 The objective of the British-­French campaign in the Baltic was to blockade or attack Kronstadt, Russia’s main naval base outside St Petersburg, and to hinder the Russian navy and prevent it from leaving the Baltic Sea. There was a fear, especially in Britain, that Russian naval ships could disturb global shipping and trade. The joint British-­French navy entered the Baltic Sea as early as April 1854, half a year before the siege of Sevastopol began. The British navy dominated the combined force, and many vessels used modern steam engines and propeller technology. But the operation was ill-­prepared, with a lack of skilled crews and insufficient knowledge of conditions in the eastern Baltic during the spring months. The British war planning relied heavily on Swedish-­Norwegian support, and possibly even for their joint engagement in the war.39 Oscar I had three options on how to handle the conflict. Russia, due to the ‘friendly’ relationship it had enjoyed with Sweden-­Norway since the policy of 1812, also expected their support in the war. In 1853, the

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  29

Russians even attempted to engage Sweden-­Norway on their side. Oscar I refused, and instead opened negotiations with Denmark about possible joint declarations of neutrality. Strict occasional neutrality was the second option. In December 1853, Oscar I issued the second declaration of Sweden-­Norway’s neutrality. The Danes independently did the same.40 Accepting the status of the Baltic Sea as an open sea, and falling in line with the neutrality declarations, Swedish ports were opened to British and French vessels, allowing them to stay, supply and repair. The British-­ French ships used the Swedish port of Fårösund on the island of Gotland as their prime base of operations. All this was in accordance with neutrality in the sense of international law, but it undoubtedly greatly benefited the Allies. In the summer of 1854, the British-­French fleet cruised along the coastal waters of the eastern and northern Baltic and bombarded Finnish towns. In August, the allied navy occupied the Åland Islands, since 1809 part of the Russian Empire, and destroyed the naval base of Bomarsund.41 A third option remained on the table. France and Britain approached Oscar I, proposing a military alliance, and the Swedish public began to dream about the return of Finland. The king’s negotiations with the Western allies resulted in the so-­called November Treaty of 1855.42 The main outcome of the treaty was a British-­French guarantee of Sweden-­ Norway’s territorial integrity, directed against Russia. The treaty included a stipulation that Sweden would promise to participate in the war, but it was signed too late. Before Oscar I could enter the war, the peace between Russia and the Western allies and the Ottoman Empire had been signed and the siege of Sevastopol was over. One outcome of the Peace of Paris of 1856 that ended the Crimean War, and which was relevant for Sweden-­Norway, was the Paris Declaration Respecting the Maritime Law, signed in April 1856. It included only four short articles: 1. Privateering is, and remains, abolished. 2. The neutral flag covers enemy’s goods, with the exception of contraband of war. 3. Neutral goods, with the exception of contraband of war, are not liable to capture under enemy’s flag. 4. Blockades, in order to be binding, must be effective, that is to say, maintained by a force sufficient really to prevent access to the coast of the enemy.43 The first article made privateering illegal as a means of naval warfare. For obvious reasons, including the British mastery of the sea, privateering had already lost much of its role in naval warfare by 1815. The Paris

30 • Leos Müller

Declaration made the prohibition of privateering a part of international law and confirmed the British stance on the issue.44 The three other articles have a long history. They can be found in all disputes between maritime neutral nations and Britain since the mid-­ seventeenth century. They express the neutrals’ claims on the right to trade and navigate ­freely – t­he rights and duties of neutral flag. Until 1856, Britain refused to acknowledge the neutrals’ rights, and demanded its own right to search and seize neutral ships if they carried contraband and to define what contraband is. Britain’s change of position reflected the fact that neutrality of flag no longer mattered in the age of British naval mastery. As pointed out above, naval warfare was rare. This also demonstrated the global triumph of free trade liberalism in the mid-­nineteenth century. The permanent neutrality of Switzerland and Belgium had been acknowledged and guaranteed by the Vienna great powers, but not as a part of international law as such. Neutrality rights embodied in the Paris Declaration Respecting the Maritime Law were later extended and defined in detail at the two Hague conferences in 1899 and 1907; they are still of key significance for the law of neutrality.

Conclusions From the Swedish point of view, it is difficult to evaluate the outcomes of the Crimean War. The Peace of Paris 1856 undoubtedly improved Sweden-­Norway’s security situation. It brought to an end the Russian military presence on the Åland Islands and confirmed the status of the Baltic Sea as an open sea, to the benefit of Sweden. The November Treaty of 1855 provided Sweden-­Norway with a guarantee of territorial integrity under British-­French protection. Nevertheless, with the rise of Germany, and especially after the Prussian/German victory in the German-­French War of 1870–1871 and German unification, it is difficult to estimate the value of the great power guarantee. The Paris Declaration Respecting the Maritime Law made neutrality, including Sweden-­Norway’s neutrality, a part of international law. From this moment on, neutrality was no longer either a unilateral declaration by a state or a status imposed by a group of great powers on another state (neutralization). The notion of neutrality was permanently embodied in international law; at the same time, international law came to play a much more important role in international politics.45 Lawyers, and politicians with a background in law, took an active part in conducting foreign policy. Peace movements all around the world put their trust in arbitrations, negotiations and n ­ eutralization – t­he power of international

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  31

law in general. The tide of international law, of peace movements, peace conferences, and the codification of the law of neutrality in The Hague in 1899 and 1907, were crucial for Sweden’s policy around 1900 and during the First World War. It is obvious that Charles XIV John and Oscar I did not consider neutrality a long-­term commitment. It is actually hard to know what Charles XIV John did intend with his declaration of 1834. The neutrality declaration in 1854 did not stop Oscar I from pursuing an active but dangerous foreign policy. In the winter of 1855–1856, Sweden-­Norway was not far from full engagement in the war against Russia. Also, Sweden-­Norway’s conduct over the course of the First and Second Schleswig Wars indicated an ambition to play a much more active role than one compatible with long-­term neutrality. Only the fiasco of Scandinavism made neutrality appealing as a long-­term policy. The ambiguity of Sweden’s foreign policy between 1814 and 1864 can partially be explained by the role of the monarchy. In the first half of the nineteenth century, the foreign policy of the Union state still was very much the domain of ­kings – ­in spite of the constitutional revolution, and in spite of the role of Swedish and Norwegian parliaments and goverments. The first three Bernadotte kings perceived themselves to be the prime agents of the state’s foreign policy, and foreign policy to be the prime function of the state, but there was an obvious discrepancy between what they wanted and believed they could do, and the reality. This discrepancy is important in explaining why Sweden’s neutrality during this period was so inconsistent: why, as Mikael af Malmborg, historian of Swedish neutrality, writes, nineteenth-­century Sweden was ‘Neutral by default’.46 If we trace the history of Sweden’s neutrality back in time, to before 1814, we see that maritime neutrality was an important component of Sweden’s foreign policy during the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, at least until 1805, and throughout many eighteenth-­century conflicts. Maritime neutrality was promoted with the help of international law as a way to protect trade and shipping under the Swedish neutral flag. This connection between a legal argument for neutrality status and the economic exploitation of it reminds us strongly of Sweden’s neutrality during the First World War and the Second World War, when foreign trade also thrived. But after 1814, neutrality was quite different. The connection between neutrality and the sea disappeared; during a time of British naval mastery, warfare at sea also almost disappeared. Belgium and Switzerland were made neutrals par ­excellence – t­hrough the neutralization process. Their neutrality was very different from that of Denmark and S ­ weden – a­ nd the United ­States – a­ s carried out during the French Revolutionary Wars.

32 • Leos Müller

One outcome of the wars of 1792–1815 was an increased gap between the large and small members of the international system; great powers became even greater, while middle-­ranking states diminished, with even more restricted foreign policy options. This was also the fate of Sweden-­ Norway and Denmark. Here we will find the source of the discrepancy between Charles XIV John’s and Oscar I’s foreign policy ambitions and the realities of foreign diplomacy. The nineteenth century was indeed a peaceful period for Sweden and Norway, but this peace was not an outcome of skilful royal negotiation or long-­term neutrality. The peace was a consequence of the limited geopolitical interests of the great powers in the Scandinavian peninsula. Denmark did not enjoy that good fortune. If we compare Sweden’s situation between 1814 and 1856 with that during the Second World War or the Cold War, the contrast in geopolitical exposure is apparent. During the first period, Sweden, in its union with Norway, was at the periphery of the European state system; it was also a peninsular state surrounded by international waters where peace was guaranteed by Britain’s naval superiority. During the second period, northern Europe and Sweden were located first in the midst of a conflict zone between Germany and the ­allies – t­ he occupation of Norway proved the unfeasibility of its n ­ eutrality – a­ nd later in one between Soviet Russia and the West. Neutrality has been a useful tool of Sweden’s foreign policy on many occasions, and it has worked successfully as a long-­term commitment since 1939, but it is not the reason behind Sweden’s 200 years of peace. Leos Müller is Professor of History and the Head of the Centre for Maritime Studies at Stockholm University. His research interests include global history, the history of early modern and modern neutrality and Swedish maritime history from the early modern time the to present. His recent publications include Sveriges första globala århundrade: En 1700-tals historia (2018) and Neutrality in World History: Themes in World History (2019).

Notes   1. It is difficult to compile a survey of the research on Sweden’s neutrality during the Second World War and the Cold War. For a summary of the international scholarship, see, for example, Paul A. Levine’s chapter in Neville Wylie (ed.), European

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  33

Neutrals and Non-belligerents During the Second World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 304–330. Major contributions include Wilhelm Carlgren, Swedish Foreign Policy During the Second World War (London: Benn, 1977); Alf W. Johansson, Den nazistiska utmaningen: aspekter på andra världskriget (Stockholm: Prisma, 2000); Bengt Sundelius (ed.), The Committed Neutral: Sweden’s Foreign Policy (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1989); Jacob Westberg, Svensk neutralitetspolitik (Stockholm: SNS, 2010); Klas Åmark, Att bo granne med ondskan: Sveriges förhållande till nazismen, Nazityskland och förintelsen (Stockholm: Bonnier, 2011); and Christine Agius, The Social Construction of Swedish Neutrality: Challenges to Swedish Identity and Sovereignty (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012). For the early modern origins of Sweden’s neutrality, see especially Mikael af Malmborg, Neutrality and State-building in Sweden (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2001); and Ove Bring, Neutralitetens uppgång och fall: eller Den gemensamma säkerhetens historia (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2008).  2. See, for example, the most recent overview in English: Ryszard Michał Czarny, Sweden: From Neutrality to International Solidarity (Cham: Springer, 2018).  3. Leos Müller, Neutrality in World History (New York: Routledge, 2019), chapters 2 and 3. See also Leos Müller, ‘The Forgotten History of Maritime Neutrality, 1500–1800’, in Pascal Lottaz and Herbert R Reginbogin (eds), Notions of Neutralities (New York: Lexington Books, 2019), 67–86.   4. The differences between the laws of territorial and maritime neutrality are set out in the two articles of the 1907 Hague conventions, nr V, relating to neutrality on land, https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/hague05.asp, and nr XIII, relating to neutrality at sea, https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/hague13.asp (accessed 5 April 2020).   5. Peter Maxwell-­Stuart, Steve Murdoch and Leos Müller, Unimpeded Sailing: A Critical Edition of Johann Gröning’s Navigatio Libera (Extended 1698 edition) (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 1–23.  6. Silvia Marzagalli and Leos Müller, ‘“In Apparent Disagreement with All Law of Nations in the World”: Negotiating Neutrality for Shipping and Trade During the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars’, International Journal of Maritime History 28(1), 2016, 108–117; Leos Müller, ‘Swedish Merchant Shipping in Troubled Times: The French Revolutionary Wars and Sweden’s Neutrality 1793–1801’, International Journal of Maritime History 28(1), 2016, 147–164; Victor Wilson, Commerce in Disguise: War and Trade in the Caribbean Free Port of Gustavia, 1793–1815 (Åbo: Åbo Akademi University Press, 2015).   7. Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 60; John Chrispinsson, G. A. Reuterholm: den gråtande diktatorn (Stockholm: Prisma, 2008), 85–98.   8. Müller, ‘Swedish Merchant Shipping’.  9. There was some contact between the two Nordic neutrals and the United States regarding cooperation about maritime neutrality, but no conclusive agreement was reached. Samuel Flagg Bemis, ‘The United States and the Abortive Armed Neutrality of 1794’, American Historical Review 24, 1918, 26–47; Mlada Bukovansky, ‘American Identity and Neutral Rights from Independence to the War of 1812’, International Organizations 51, 1997, 209−243. 10. Müller, ‘Swedish Merchant Shipping’, 154. 11. Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 61–62; Fredrik Wilhelm Ehrenheim, Svenskt biografiskt lexicon, https://sok.riksarkivet.se/sbl/artikel/16674 (accessed 3 April 2020).

34 • Leos Müller

12. Leos Müller, ‘Sweden’s Early-­modern Neutrality: Neutral Vessels, Prize Cases and Diplomatic Actors in London in the Late Eighteenth Century’, Journal of Early Modern History 23(5), 2019, 487. 13. Eventually, such cases entered into the correspondence between diplomats of belligerent and neutral countries, which is the reason why prize cases are so well covered in the diplomatic sources. See Leos Müller and Steve Murdoch, ‘Neutral före neutraliteten: Svensk sjöfart i krigens skugga, cirka 1650–1800’, in Simon Ekström, Leos Müller and Tomas Nilson (eds), Angöringar: Berättelser och kunskap från havet (Göteborg: Makadam, 2017), 185–206. 14. Olle Gasslander, ‘The Convoy Affair of 1798’, Scandinavian Economic History Review 1, 1954, 22–30; Müller, ‘Swedish Merchant Shipping’, 156–157. 15. An excellent study of international diplomacy in the case of the First League of Armed Neutrality is Isabel de Madariaga, Britain, Russia, and the Armed Neutrality of 1780: Sir James Harris’s Mission to St Petersburg During the American Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1962). See also Leos Müller, ‘The League of Armed Neutrality’, in Donald Stoker, Kenneth J. Hagan and Michael T. McMaster (eds), Strategy in the American War of Independence: A Global Approach (London: Routledge, 2009), 202–220. 16. David Avrom Bell, The First Total War: Napoleon’s Europe and the Birth of Modern Warfare (London: Bloomsbury, 2007). 17. Total war has the characteristics of a ‘just war’ (bellum justum); ‘just war’ does not leave any space for neutrality. In a just war, neutrality is understood as immoral, even impossible. 18. Maartje M. Abbenhuis, An Age of Neutrals: Great Power Politics, 1815–1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 15. 19. Abbenhuis, An Age of Neutrals, 52; Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 89. 20. Abbenhuis, An Age of Neutrals, 144–177. 21. The United States is a good example of such a transformation from a voluntary long-­ term nineteenth-­ century neutral state at the periphery of the international (European) system to a global superpower. Even Sweden’s geopolitical situation has been understood very differently since 1945, in comparison with the First World War or the nineteenth century, as Jacob Westberg’s chapter clearly illustrates. 22. Bo Hugemark (ed.), Neutralitet och försvar: Perspektiv på svensk säkerhetspolitik 1809– 1985 (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl, 1986), 12–13. 23. See e. g. Hugemark, Neutralitet och försvar, 12–16. 24. Jan Glete, ‘Bridge and Bulwark: The Swedish Navy and the Baltic, 1500–1809’, in Göran Rystad, Klaus-­R Böhme and Wilhelm M Carlgren (eds), In Quest of Trade and Security, vol. 1. (Stockholm: Probus, 1994), 9–59. 25. Allan Jansson, Försvarsfrågan i svensk politik från 1809 till Krimkriget (Uppsala: Uppsala University Press, 1935); Hugemark, Neutralitet och försvar, 46–47. 26. Hugemark, Neutralitet och försvar, 16–17, 46. 27. Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 72. 28. Adam Zamoyski, Rites of Peace: The Fall of Napoleon & the Congress of Vienna (New York: HarperCollins, 2007), 104, 105 and 145. See especially Prussia’s prime minister Hardenberg’s notes. 29. Zamoyski, Rites of Peace, 104–105, 145–146. 30. Karl-­Gustaf Hildebrand, ‘Latinamerika, Sverige och skeppshandeln 1825’, Historisk tidskrift (1950), 392–421.

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  35

31. Nils Ahnlund, Sten Carlsson and Torvald T Höjer (eds), Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia. 3. 1/2, 1792–1844 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1954), 266. 32. The neutrality of Russia is difficult to comprehend from a twentieth- or even nineteenth-­century perspective, but in the eighteenth century Russia used neutrality to enclose the Baltic Sea in cooperation with Denmark and Sweden. 33. Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 93–94. 34. Fredrik Doeser, Magnus Petersson and Jacob Westberg (eds), Norden mellan stormakter och fredsförbund: nordiskt säkerhetspolitiskt samarbete i det gamla och nya Europa (Stockholm: Santérus Academic Press, 2012), 50 ff. 35. Åke Holmberg, Skandinavismen i Sverige vid 1800-talets mitt (Unpublished PhD dissertation: University of Göteborg, 1946); Magdalena Hillström and Hanne Sanders (eds), Skandinavism: En rörelse och en idé under 1800-talet (Göteborg: Makadam, 2014). 36. Mats Hellstenius, Krigen som inte blev av: Sveriges fredliga officerskår vid 1800- talets mitt (Unpublished PhD dissertation: University of Lund, 2000). 37. Andrew C. Rath, The Crimean War in an Imperial Context, 1854–1856 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015); Müller, Neutrality in World History, 104–108. 38. In the words of British foreign minister Clarendon, ‘one blow in the Baltic was worth two in the Black Sea’; Rath, The Crimean War, 33. 39. Rath, The Crimean War, 33. 40. Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 94. 41. On the campaign of the Western allies in Åland, see Rath, The Crimean War, 55–76. 42. Nils Ahnlund and Allan Jansson (eds), Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia. 3. 3, 1844–1872 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1961), 109. 43. Müller, ‘Sweden’s Early-­Modern Neutrality’, 108. 44. Jan Martin Lemnitzer, Power, Law and the End of Privateering (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). This does not mean that privateering disappeared completely. The United States did not sign the Paris Declaration Respecting the Maritime Law because it did not want to give up the use of privateering. Privateer ships did play a very important role in the American Civil War. The Confederacy lacked a navy and, consequently, relied heavily on privateering. 45. Martti Koskenniemi, The Gentle Civilizer of Nations: The Rise and Fall of International Law 1870–1960 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Mark Mazower, Governing the World: The History of an Idea (London: Allan Lane, 2012); Abbenhuis, An Age of Neutrals; and Müller, Neutrality in World History. 46. Malmborg af, Neutrality and State-building, 91.

Bibliography Abbenhuis, Maartje M. An Age of Neutrals: Great Power Politics, 1815–1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). Agius, Christine. The Social Construction of Swedish Neutrality: Challenges to Swedish Identity and Sovereignty (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012). Ahnlund, Nils, Sten Carlsson and Torvald T Höjer (eds.), Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia. 3. 1/2, 1792–1844 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1954). Ahnlund, Nils and Allan Jansson (eds). Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia. 3. 3, 1844– 1872 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1961).

36 • Leos Müller

Åmark, Klas. Att bo granne med ondskan: Sveriges förhållande till nazismen, Nazityskland och förintelsen (Stockholm: Bonnier, 2011). Bell, David Avrom. The First Total War: Napoleon’s Europe and the Birth of Modern Warfare (London. Bloomsbury, 2007). Bemis, Samuel Flagg. ‘The United States and the Abortive Armed Neutrality of 1794’, American Historical Review 24, 1918, 26–47. Bring, Ove. Neutralitetens uppgång och fall: eller Den gemensamma säkerhetens historia (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2008). Bukovansky, Mlada. ‘American Identity and Neutral Rights from Independence to the War of 1812’, International Organizations 51, 1997, 209−243. Carlgren, Wilhelm. Swedish Foreign Policy During the Second World War (London: Benn, 1977). Chrispinsson, John. G. A. Reuterholm: den gråtande diktatorn (Stockholm: Prisma, 2008). Czarny, Ryszard Michał. Sweden: From Neutrality to International Solidarity (Cham: Springer, 2018). de Madariaga, Isabel. Britain, Russia, and the Armed Neutrality of 1780: Sir James Harris’s Mission to St Petersburg During the American Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1962). Doeser, Fredrik, Magnus Petersson and Jacob Westberg (eds). Norden mellan stormakter och fredsförbund: nordiskt säkerhetspolitiskt samarbete i det gamla och nya Europa (Stockholm: Santérus Academic Press, 2012). Ehrenheim, Fredrik Wilhelm. Svenskt biografiskt lexicon, https://sok.riksarkivet.se/sbl/arti​ kel/16674 (accessed 3 April 2020). Gasslander, Olle. ‘The Convoy Affair of 1798’, Scandinavian Economic History Review 1, 1954, 22–30. Glete, Jan. ‘Bridge and Bulwark: The Swedish Navy and the Baltic, 1500–1809’, in Göran Rystad, Klaus-­R Böhme and Wilhelm M Carlgren (eds), In Quest of Trade and Security, vol. 1. (Stockholm: Probus, 1994), 9–59. Hellstenius, Mats. Krigen som inte blev av: Sveriges fredliga officerskår vid 1800- talets mitt (Unpublished PhD dissertation: University of Lund, 2000). Hildebrand, Karl-­Gustaf. ‘Latinamerika, Sverige och skeppshandeln 1825’, Historisk tidskrift (1950), 392–421. Hillström, Magdalena and Hanne Sanders (eds). Skandinavism: En rörelse och en idé under 1800-talet (Göteborg: Makadam, 2014). Holmberg, Åke. Skandinavismen i Sverige vid 1800-talets mitt (Unpublished PhD dissertation: University of Göteborg, 1946). Hugemark, Bo (ed.). Neutralitet och försvar: Perspektiv på svensk säkerhetspolitik 1809–1985 (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl, 1986). Jansson, Allan. Försvarsfrågan i svensk politik från 1809 till Krimkriget (Uppsala: Uppsala University Press, 1935). Johansson, Alf W. Den nazistiska utmaningen: aspekter på andra världskriget (Stockholm: Prisma, 2000). Koskenniemi, Martti. The Gentle Civilizer of Nations: The Rise and Fall of International Law 1870–1960 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). Lemnitzer, Jan Martin. Power, Law and the End of Privateering (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014). Levine, Paul A. ‘Swedish Neutrality during the Second World War: Tactical Success or Moral Compromise?’, in Neville Wylie (ed.), European Neutrals and Non-belligerents During the Second World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 304–330.

Sweden-Norway’s Foreign Policy, 1794–1856  •  37

Malmborg, Mikael af. Neutrality and State-building in Sweden (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2001). Marzagalli, Silvia and Leos Müller. ‘“In Apparent Disagreement with All Law of Nations in the World”: Negotiating Neutrality for Shipping and Trade During the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars’, International Journal of Maritime History 28(1), 2016, 108–117. Maxwell-­Stuart, Peter, Steve Murdoch and Leos Müller. Unimpeded Sailing: A Critical Edition of Johann Gröning’s Navigatio Libera (Extended 1698 edition) (Leiden: Brill, 2018). Mazower, Mark. Governing the World: The History of an Idea (London: Allan Lane, 2010). Müller, Leos. ‘The League of Armed Neutrality’, in Donald Stoker, Kenneth J. Hagan and Michael T. McMaster (eds), Strategy in the American War of Independence: A Global Approach (London: Routledge, 2009), 202–220. _______. ‘Swedish Merchant Shipping in Troubled Times: The French Revolutionary Wars and Sweden’s Neutrality 1793–1801’, International Journal of Maritime History 28(1), 2016, 147–164. _______. ‘The Forgotten History of Maritime Neutrality, 1500–1800’, in Pascal Lottaz and Herbert R Reginbogin (eds), Notions of Neutralities (New York: Lexington Books, 2019), 67–86. _______. Neutrality in World History (New York: Routledge, 2019). _______. ‘Sweden’s Early-­modern Neutrality: Neutral Vessels, Prize Cases and Diplomatic Actors in London in the Late Eighteenth Century’, Journal of Early Modern History 23(5), 2019, 475–490. Müller, Leos and Steve Murdoch. ‘Neutral före neutraliteten: Svensk sjöfart i krigens skugga, cirka 1650–1800’, in Simon Ekström, Leos Müller and Tomas Nilson (eds), Angöringar: Berättelser och kunskap från havet (Göteborg: Makadam, 2017), 185–206. Rath, Andrew C. The Crimean War in an Imperial Context, 1854–1856 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015). Sundelius, Bengt (ed.). The Committed Neutral: Sweden’s Foreign Policy (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1989). Westberg, Jacob. Svensk neutralitetspolitik (Stockholm: SNS, 2010). Wilson, Victor. Commerce in Disguise: War and Trade in the Caribbean Free Port of Gustavia, 1793–1815 (Åbo: Åbo Akademi University Press, 2015). Zamoyski, Adam. Rites of Peace: The Fall of Napoleon & the Congress of Vienna (New York: HarperCollins, 2007).

Chapter 2

How Small States Manage to Stay Out of Wars Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace Jacob Westberg

R Between 1630 and 1814, Sweden was involved in twenty-­seven wars. In the final two wars, 1813 to 1814, Sweden invaded first Denmark and then Norway. According to the peace agreement signed in Kiel in January 1814, the Danish king agreed to cede Norway to Sweden in exchange for the Swedish parts of Pomerania, the last remnants of the territories Sweden had acquired in northern Germany during the Thirty Years War (1618–1648). The Norwegians responded by summoning a convention in Eidsvoll in May 1814, which approved a motion establishing Norway as a constitutional monarchy with its own king. To enforce the peace agreement in Kiel, the Swedish crown prince, Charles John, Marshal Bernadotte, planned and carried out an invasion of Norway; later the same year the Swedish king, Charles XIII, was accepted as king of the Union of Sweden and Norway, though Norway was allowed to have its own government within the Union and would enjoy political freedom in domestic matters.1 In 1818, Charles XIV John succeeded Charles XIII as king of Norway and Sweden and declared his long-­term ambition to keep the states out of future European wars. According to Charles John, this new policy was based on their insular geographical position: ‘Separated as we are from the rest of Europe our policy and our interests will always lead us to refrain from involving ourselves in any disputes which do not concern the two Scandinavian peoples’.2 Why is it that Sweden is the only Nordic country to have avoided being drawn into any of the wars that Europe has suffered since 1814? In

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  39

answering this question, many Swedes would argue that it is the outcome of the consistent efforts of successive Swedish governments to follow the lead of Charles John and continue his peacetime policy of neutrality. Yet Sweden is not the only European small state that has made efforts to remain disentangled from conflicts by declaring herself neutral. Many others have tried but ­failed – B ­ elgium’s experiences during both world wars and those of Denmark and Norway during the Second World War being only three such examples. To explain Sweden’s 200 years of peace, then, it is necessary to complement an analysis of the intentions of various Swedish governments with an assessment of other factors relating to the domestic political scene, including Sweden’s unique geographical position and the actions and interests of its more resourceful neighbouring states. This study focuses on the Swedish experiences during four armed conflicts in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries in the Baltic Sea region: the First and Second Danish-­German Wars of 1848–1852 and 1863–1864, also called the Schleswig Wars, and the two world wars of the twentieth century. The divergent fates of the other Nordic countries offer a counterpoint to assess the relevance of the internal and external variables that have influenced Sweden’s path. These four wars have been selected because they all represent occasions when Sweden could well have been involuntarily drawn into a conflict with one or several more resource-­rich states. Arguably, this can also be said of the Crimean War (1853–1856), when British and French naval forces operated in the Baltic Sea. However, this conflict is considered in a previous chapter of this book. Another crisis point not discussed here is the the peaceful dissolution of the Union between Norway and Sweden in 1905, which had the potential to lead to war. In 1905, the Norwegian Parliament unilaterally established a new system for external political representation in matters of trade. When the Swedish king, Oscar II, refused to sanction this reform, the Norwegian government resigned; since the king had failed to form a new government, the Norwegian Parliament declared that he could no longer function as king of Norway and that the Union would therefore cease to exist. Sweden responded by mobilizing its army and navy. But there was no strong desire among the Swedish public to defend the Union with force, and the Swedish crown prince, Gustav V, knew that Sweden would not find any active support from the great powers for a military intervention. He therefore advised against an invasion of Norway. Instead, political representatives from both countries managed to agree terms for a peaceful dissolution of the Union.3 This potential war has been excluded, then, because it did not involve any risk of Sweden being involuntarily drawn into a conflict.

40 • Jacob Westberg

Before we look at the wars themselves, we need to set out the analytical framework used in this chapter. This will allow for a comparative analysis of the two Schleswig Wars, followed by a section on the different experiences of the Nordic states during the First and Second World Wars. We can then address the main question: what made Sweden’s experience so different to its partners, when its material circumstances seemed so similar?

Explaining Non-Aligned Small States’ Non-Involvement in Great Power Wars During great power conflicts, small states face the common challenge of promoting their own interests in the face of negative power asymmetries tilted in favour of more resourceful states, which threaten to limit their ability to influence their external environment. According to Robert Rothstein, a small state is ‘a state which recognizes that it cannot obtain security primarily by use of its own capabilities ­and . . . ­must rely fundamentally on the aid of other states, institutions, processes or developments to do so’.4 Some small state scholars have focused on these asymmetrical power relationships; one definition is that a small state is ‘the weaker part in an asymmetrical relationship’ and is ‘unable to change the nature or functioning of the relationship on its own’. Consequently, small states are ‘stuck with the power configurations and their institutional expression, no matter what their specific relation to it is’.5 Both these definitions are useful points of departure in analysing small states’ strategies for avoiding conflicts with more resourceful states. However, the definitions do not specify which institutions, processes and developments pertain especially to questions relating to peace and war. Additionally, both definitions ignore the importance of the domestic ­scene – ­in other words, internal variables. It is thus important to examine some of the findings from previous research on how specific external and internal variables affect small states’ capabilities to remain outside great power conflicts.

External Explanatory Variables This study evaluates the influence of two external variables: (i) balance of power and (ii) strategic exposure. Both variables are associated with realist IR theories. Balance of power has been a central concept in analyses of the competition between great powers in Europe since the eighteenth century

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  41

and has been used with several different meanings.6 Applied to a global or regional system of states, balance of power may refer to a condition of equilibrium in power resources between the main competing powers in a specific system. Such an equilibrium decreases the risk of war because potentially expansive great powers that wish to occupy a smaller state must consider the possibility that other great powers may come to the aid of that weaker state. However, equilibrium in the balance of power does not guarantee the sovereignty of all states. Sometimes, the political independence of small states is sacrificed in order to uphold the peace between great powers.7 Nevertheless, for a status-­quo-­oriented small state, a balance of power is usually preferable to a lack of balance. A second use of the concept of balance of power concerns the distribution of power within a global or regional system. Depending on the number of great powers, a system may be uni-, bi- or multi-­polar. According to Annette Baker Fox, equilibrium in the balance of power and a greater number of competing powers are both beneficial for small state security since a small state may play one great power’s interests against another’s.8 Consequently, the least beneficial distribution of power for a small state is uni-­polarity, with an unbalanced and expansive great power occupying its own regional system. A third meaning of the concept of balance of power refers to a specific strategy pursued by states either individually or collectively. States pursuing balance of power strategies attempt to create counterweights to expansive powers by supporting the weaker part in a conflict. Balance of power strategies are essentially defensive strategies aimed at securing self-­preservation and avoiding relative losses.9 An important difference between great powers and small states in their pursuit of balance of power strategies is that small states in most cases have to rely on concerted efforts made with more resourceful like-­ minded states.10 Small states also often practise ‘anti-­balance of power strategies’ by complying with demands from threatening great powers.11 Anti-­balance of power strategies are better known as ‘defensive bandwagoning’ or ‘appeasement strategies’.12 In contrast, states pursuing a policy of neutrality and non-­military alignment are said to practise a strategy of isolation characterized as ‘hiding’ or ‘distancing’ depending on their different levels of activity.13 The second external explanatory variable included in the analytical framework of this study, strategic exposure, relates to a basic precondition for a successful policy of non-­alignment: that the territory of a small state is strategically irrelevant to all parties in an ongoing conflict. Strategic exposure is the opposite of being strategically irrelevant. It is where a small state faces a situation in which one or more great powers has a strategic

42 • Jacob Westberg

interest in controlling parts of its territory. Additionally, the small state must try to appear ‘politically non-­provocative’. However, Rothstein also notes that geographical position seems to be a ‘more critical factor than the choice of a particular policy’ in determining strategic exposure.14

Internal Explanatory Variables In analysing the influence of the internal variables, I will focus on two: (i) domestic unity and cohesion; and (ii) democratic control of the executive parts of the government. Regarding the first, David Vital explains that the ‘internal strength of a régime is its first line of defence in the face of external pressure or attack’ and ‘the greater the pressure the greater must be the internal stability and cohesion of the society under attack’.15 Following this summation, in the present study I will be using domestic unity to analyse decisions relating to voluntarily participation in wars. The variable of democratic control relates to the liberal democratic peace theory originally presented in Immanuel Kant’s classic study ‘Perpetual Peace’, written in 1795. This theory has been employed by Michael Doyle to explain the 200-­year-­long global absence of war between liberal states, and it is still a cornerstone in the theoretical tradition of ‘republican liberalism’.16 In his treatise, Kant presents three ‘definitive articles’. This study focuses on the first article, which is the proposition that states with a ‘republican’ constitution are less likely to enter a war voluntarily. A republic is characterized by preserved political freedom, legal equality of citizens, and a representative government with a separation of powers. According to Doyle, this includes the requirement that the ‘legislative branch have an effective role in public policy and can be formally and ­competitively . . . ­elected’. A republican constitutional arrangement means, Kant argues, that ‘the consent of the citizens is required to decide whether or not war should be declared’ and that it is ‘very natural that they will have a great hesitation in embarking on so dangerous enterprise. For this would mean calling down on themselves the miseries of war, such as doing the fighting themselves, supplying the cost of the war [and] painfully making good the ensuring devastation’. Sweden is categorized by Doyle as having been a liberal regime from 1864 onwards.17 Kant’s theory has been used in an analysis of Sweden’s war experiences. In an article focusing on the period before 1814, Joakim Scherp demonstrates that there is a covariation between time periods with a relatively strong parliamentarian position and those with relatively fewer wars.18 In my analysis of the influence of these external and internal variables, then, I will distinguish between those that had an enabling influence and those that had a restraining influence on

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  43

acts that affected the likelihood of Sweden becoming involved in a specific conflict.

Scandinavian War Experiences during the Nineteenth Century In 1848, during the First Schleswig War, Sweden deployed some 6000 Swedish troops to the Danish island of Fyn to support Denmark’s war efforts against a militarily superior enemy, a coalition of German states led by Prussia. During the build-­up phase to the Second Schleswig War in 1863, the Swedish king, Charles XV, gave the Danish government renewed promises of military assistance in case of an attack by the German states. This time, however, both the Swedish and the Norwegian governments eventually decided against supporting Denmark. In my comparative analysis of these two wars, I will argue that both the activism during the first war and the passive policy during the second can be explained by differences relating to a combination of internal and external variables.

Domestic Cohesion and Democratic Control during the Schleswig Wars In the peace agreements that ended the Napoleonic wars, the Danish king ceded to the Prussian king those parts of Pomerania that he had received in the Treaty of Kiel. In return, he received the German duchy of Lauenburg. The realm of the Danish king had for centuries included the German-­speaking duchies of Holstein and Schleswig. The large German-­ speaking population in the duchies proved to be a source of instability during an era of increased nationalism.19 Following the death of the Danish king, Christian VIII, in January 1848, the new king, Frederick VII, faced strong demands to accept a constitutional reform that would end the period of absolutism and establish Denmark, including Schleswig, as a consolidated, unified, constitutional monarchy. When Frederick gave in to the demands from the Danish nationalists, the German separatists immediately started an uprising and established a provisional government. The separatists received military assistance from several German states, including Prussia. After suffering a military defeat, the Danish troops evacuated from both duchies on 23 April 1848.20 The outbreak of the Second Schleswig War appears almost to have been a replay of the developments in 1848. In March 1863, the Danish king, Frederick, announced a package of political measures to

44 • Jacob Westberg

increase the autonomy of Holstein and Lauenburg. In Holstein and the German-­ speaking parts of Schleswig, the declaration was interpreted as a first step towards separating the whole of Schleswig from Holstein, and protests began anew. In July 1863, the Parliament of the German Confederation demanded that the Danish government should revoke this so-­called ‘March declaration’. The Danish government did not comply. In November the same year, King Frederick died, and a new king, Christian IX, ratified a new constitution that fully integrated Schleswig with Denmark. The new constitution was strongly criticized by Britain, France and Russia, and the German states demanded that it too should be revoked. The Danish government refused to give in. In December, German troops entered Holstein, and at the beginning of 1864 a coalition of German states led by Prussia defeated the Danish troops in Holstein and Schleswig and continued to attack other parts of Denmark as well.21 If the variable of domestic unity and cohesion is applied to the whole realm of the Danish king, we can say that the lack of it obviously contributed to the outbreak of the conflict. The second internal variable, the restraining influence of parliamentary or democratic control over executive power, does not seem to meet the criteria of democratic peace theory. The demands for a more democratic constitution from democratic liberal nationalists contributed to the outbreak of both wars. In defence of democratic peace theory, it can be argued that it does not include defensive wars. Nevertheless, it is not possible to argue that the democratic forces either in Denmark or in the German states exercised a restraining influence on the various governments’ decisions to use military force. Moreover, in the case of the German states during the First Schleswig War it can even be argued that liberal democratic forces actively contributed to the outbreak of the war by putting political pressure on Frederick William IV to intervene militarily in the conflict.22 The Swedish involvement in the First Schleswig War was preceded by a request for military assistance from Denmark. Before 27 April 1848, the Swedish government had declared that it was not prepared to intervene militarily. However, there was strong support for the Danish cause in the Swedish public debate. This support came from a liberal movement called ‘Scandinavianism’. Representatives of this movement supported closer political cooperation, perhaps even a political union, between the three Scandinavian states. Additionally, the Swedish king, Oscar I, faced political pressure from liberals to present constitutional reforms. According to Allan Jansson, Oscar may have hoped that a popular foreign policy move would divert public attention away from the question of constitutional reforms.23

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  45

On 2  May, Oscar presented his views to the Secret Committee of the Swedish Parliament. Concerning Schleswig, the king recommended that Sweden should act only after consultations with Britain and Russia. However, if Jutland or any of the Danish islands were threatened, a force of 15,000 soldiers should be mobilized and prepared for transport to Denmark. The king’s proposal received unanimous support from the committee, and the Swedish Parliament decided with an overwhelming majority to release the economic funds needed for the expedition. Eventually Oscar also received political support from the Norwegian government, and on 11 May a decision was made to send 4000 men to the Danish island of Fyn. Additionally, a reserve force of 11,000 more soldiers, consisting of troops from both Norway and Sweden, was ordered to be mobilized in southern Sweden. On 4 May, Sweden sent a diplomatic note to Berlin informing Prussia that a German attack against the ‘real Denmark’ would be answered by a transfer of Swedish forces to Denmark. During the conflict, the Swedish forces in Denmark were increased to 6000 men and the reserve forces to 14,000 men.24 Obviously, variables relating to internal cohesion and domestic unity alone cannot explain why Sweden ultimately avoided being drawn into this military conflict this time. Quite the reverse: the demands for constitutional reform may even have contributed to the king’s decision to send troops, and the active support of the Swedish Parliament and the Norwegian government was both needed and obtained. The liberals’ support and posive public opinion, therefore, seem to have had an enabling rather than restraining effect on the decision to intervene. Yet both wars were highly unpopular among the highest levels of the Swedish military establishment. These high-­ ranking officers were concerned about the poor state of the Swedish armed forces and were generally very critical of what they described as naïve war propaganda emanating from the liberal, democratic segments of society.25 In the end, Sweden managed to stay out of the war. So far, it appears that the internal variables selected for this study have little to tell us about how Sweden managed to stay out of the First Schleswig War. This is not the case when we turn to Sweden’s non-­ involvement in the Second Schleswig War. In July 1863, Oscar I’s successor, Charles XV, met with the Danish king, Frederick VII. In their conversation, Charles promised Frederick that if the German states attacked Holstein, Sweden would immediately send 20,000 Norwegian and Swedish troops to Schleswig’s defence. When the Swedish foreign minister, Ludvig Manderström, learned of the king’s offer, he emphasized that the issue of a defensive pact had not been discussed in the Swedish cabinet. Moreover, the Norwegian government had agreed to support a

46 • Jacob Westberg

defensive alliance, and the Danish government was required to present an official proposal on the matter.26 On 8  September, the defensive alliance was discussed at a meeting attended by the king and leading representatives of both the Swedish and Norwegian cabinets. Charles insisted that an attack against a Danish-­ speaking territory would certainly result in direct Swedish military support for Denmark. The Swedish minister of finance, J.A. Gripenstedt, replied by threatening to tender his resignation, and reminded the king of the fate of one of his predecessors, Gustav IV Adolf, who in 1809 was forced to abdicate during the war with Russia. As a compromise it was decided that they would investigate the possibility of gaining support from Britain and France. Later in the autumn, however, it became clear that neither of these states was prepared to commit itself to intervening in a conflict between the two Scandinavian states and the German states. Even so, Denmark was left believing that the promise from the Swedish king remained valid. As late as 22 November, a Danish newspaper reported that Sweden would send 22,000 men, led by the king himself.27 The Swedish response to the Second Schleswig War provides strong justification for emphasizing the importance of internal variables to domestic unity and democratic peace theory. The lack of political unity left the Swedish king unable to fulfil his promises to the Danish government. Opposition to providing military support for Denmark was strong in both the Norwegian and Swedish governments. Moreover, the outcome of this debacle further reduced the Swedish monarch’s autonomy on these questions, and the official Swedish foreign policy changed to a strategy of passive isolation. Sweden’s future external policies would, according to Manderström, be characterized by ‘absolute passivity’.28 Ole Elgström and Magnus Jerneck have named this new policy ‘mental retrenchment’.29

Balance of Power and Strategic Exposure during the Schleswig Wars The internal variables used in this study explain why Sweden and Norway did not choose to join the war between Denmark and the German states in 1863–1864, and they give us some clues as to why Denmark suffered in both wars. However, internal variables cannot explain how Denmark’s fate was so different to the others, since its internal situation was very similar. Just as interesting is the fact that Sweden’s decision to send troops to Denmark in 1848 did not put an end to the conflict, nor did the conflict escalate to the point where the Swedish army was actively involved in

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  47

combat. To explain this it is necessary to consider the actions of the great powers and differences relating to the balance of power. According to nineteenth-­century historians, and to later research, Oscar reversed his position on the question of military support to Denmark sometime between 28 and 30 April 1848. On 27 April, Oscar received a note expressing the Russian government’s appreciation of Sweden’s moral support for Denmark. The note also announced that Russia had contacted the British government concerning a common initiative to mediate in the conflict. The Russian tsar, Nicholas I, had already on 2 May informed the Danish minister in St Petersburg that a further attack against Denmark would result in a war between Russia and Prussia. A Russian note informing the Prussian government of this decision arrived in Berlin on 18 May; four days later, Prussian troops received an order to withdraw to Schleswig. On 2 July, an armistice agreement was signed. Shortly afterwards, agreement on a seven-­month truce was reached and the Swedish troops left Fyn.30 In April 1849 there were renewed hostilities between Danish and German forces, and the Danish government once more turned to Sweden requesting military assistance. This time, the Swedish government answered that it was not prepared to act in isolation, since even the combined military might of Denmark and Sweden would be no match for the united forces of the German states. Initially, neither Britain nor Russia was interested in supporting Denmark. However, on this occasion the German nationalists would not receive support from Prussia, and eventually Russia presented new demands for a truce. In July 1849, a new armistice was signed. The Danish government sent a second request to Sweden for armed forces to keep the peace along the border area between the Danish and German-­ speaking population in Schleswig. The Swedish government answered that the presence of Swedish troops must be acceptable to both parties in the conflict. Moreover, all the great powers must support the plan. Once these conditions were fulfilled, 4000 Swedish soldiers were sent to the northern, Danish-­speaking parts of Schleswig. In July 1850, a peace agreement was reached and the Swedish troops returned home. After the Danish army had defeated the politically isolated German separatists, Denmark was once again in possession of the whole of Schleswig; two years later, it took back control of Holstein.31 In assessing the influence of external variables relating to the balance of power and the strategies of the great powers over the course of these events, we find that they exercised an enabling influence on the Swedish military intervention in May 1848 and the peacekeeping operation in 1849. Moreover, in 1849 Swedish military support to Denmark was explicitly conditional on great power support. When the equilibrium in the balance

48 • Jacob Westberg

of power was broken due to improvements in Prussian and Russian relations in the 1850s and 1860s, and when the Western great powers were no longer interested in supporting Denmark, the Norwegian and Swedish governments were no longer prepared to support their Nordic neighbour. The lack of a balance of power in 1863–1864 thus had a strong restraining influence on the Swedish government’s decision whether or not to give Demark military support. The influence of strategic exposure is obvious in the Danish case throughout both wars. German-­speaking parts of Denmark were of clear strategic interest to the German nationalist movement in 1848–1849. During the Second Schleswig War, the same duchies were a part of Chancellor Otto von Bismarck’s project to unify Germany by Prussian military force. But to what extent was Sweden-­ Norway strategically exposed? Certainly, King Oscar argued that the ‘freedom of the North’ was threatened if Prussia controlled the whole of Denmark, and many Swedish parliamentarians were convinced by this argument.32 However, as evidenced by the outcome of the second war, it is far from clear that either Prussia or the German nationalists had any interest in including even the Danish-­speaking parts of Denmark in a new united Germany, and nothing indicates that there was a real threat to the political independence and territorial integrity of Sweden-­Norway in any of these conflicts. Sweden’s territory therefore seems to have been strategically irrelevant to the German states in both wars.

The Nordic Countries’ Experiences during the First and Second World Wars In August 1914, Denmark, Norway and Sweden presented three separate declarations of neutrality. Finland used the opportunities created by the war and the Russian revolution to gain national independence in 1917–1918. Denmark, Norway and Sweden pursued different policies of neutrality during the First World War. However, in contrast to Belgium, none of them suffered an armed attack.33 How did the Scandinavian countries manage to stay out of the ‘Great War’ while other neutral states did not? Later, in November 1939, Finland was attacked by the Soviet Union, and in April 1940 both Denmark and Norway were invaded by Germany in spite of their declared neutrality. Even Iceland, still a part of the Danish realm, was drawn into the war when British troops arrived.34 Yet Sweden once again managed to avoid becoming directly involved in a great power war. I argue that strategic exposure is the most important factor explaining

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  49

why some states were sucked in and o­ thers – ­specifically ­Sweden – ­were not. Moreover, the Swedish non-­involvement in the Second World War was dependent on its government’s appeasement policy and adjustments to changes in the regional balance of power.

Strategic Exposure and the Different Fates of Neutrals during the First World War The deep causes of the First World War are largely to be found in nationalist sentiments spurred by the Franco-­German war of 1870–1871 and the alliances created around these two continental European great powers between 1894 and 1907. In 1894, France and Russia entered a defensive alliance, and in 1904 Britain and France formed another alliance that Russia joined in 1907. The German general staff responded to this pattern of alliances by preparing for a two-­front war, arranged along the lines of the so-­called ‘Schlieffen-­plan’. This plan rested on the premise that Russian mobilization would be slow and that the German forces should be able to concentrate their initial efforts on the Western Front against France, thereby winning a fast and decisive victory. After this, the German army could relocate its main war efforts to the Eastern Front and face the Russian army. When Germany’s ally, Austria-­Hungary, declared war on Serbia on 28 July and Russia began to mobilize on 30 July, the German war-­plan started to tick over. On 2–4 August, Luxemburg and Belgium were invaded in a flanking movement designed to circumvent the French defences in an effort to achieve a swift success. On 5  August, Britain joined France and Russia in the common war effort against Germany and its allies. The German war-­plans for the invasion of Belgium in 1914 are almost a textbook example of a small state suffering invasion due to strategic exposure.35 The three Scandinavian countries had already in 1912 officially presented their plan of how they would apply the rules of neutrality established in the Hague Convention of 1907 in the case of a great power war. In agreement with international law, these rules allowed all belligerents to enter the Baltic Sea.36 The domestic situation in Sweden in 1914 was characterized by the political turmoil created by King Gustav V’s open criticism of the liberal government’s defence policy. In February 1914 the prime minister, Karl Staaff, resigned, and a new cabinet led by Hjalmar Hammarskjöld replaced the liberal government. The cabinet was formally independent of all the parties in Parliament, but in practice conservative ministers dominated it. Many conservatives in Sweden were at the time pro-­German, while the liberals and the social democratic party firmly

50 • Jacob Westberg

supported neutrality. Hammarskjöld and the foreign minister, K.A. Wallenberg, were, according to Wilhelm Carlgren, in total agreement regarding the main aim of Sweden’s policy: that Sweden should remain outside of great power alliances and pursue a policy of armed neutrality. Additionally, Swedish public opinion generally did not expect Sweden to become involved in the war unless it was attacked.37 The credibility of Sweden’s neutrality was strengthened by a unilateral declaration on 3 August stating that Sweden would pursue a policy of strict neutrality throughout the present war, and by a bilateral declaration with Norway. Britain, France and Russia quickly responded positively to the Swedish declaration. The German government was more reluctant in its response. However, on 10 August the German government explained that it was prepared to accept Sweden’s neutrality if it pursued a ‘benevolent’ policy of neutrality towards Germany. This formulation was the result of secret negotiations between the German ambassador to Stockholm and the Swedish foreign minister.38 As a consequence of its promise to pursue a benevolent policy towards Germany, the Swedish government was exposed to political demands for concessions that would support the German war effort. The Danish government had already on 6 August 1914 given in to German demands and placed mines in its territorial waters to prevent Allied warships from entering the Baltic Sea. Sweden was under pressure to do likewise. Initially the Swedish government refused, but eventually it gave in to Germany’s demands. Moreover, and to the annoyance of the British government, Sweden started re-­exporting imported goods to Germany, undermining the British trade blockade. In response to this, the British government included Sweden in the blockade. This resulted in severe food shortages in Swedish cities, and massive protests. In March 1917, Hammarskjöld was forced to resign. After the elections of autumn 1917, the liberal and social democratic parties formed a new government that stopped the re-­ exporting of various goods to Germany.39 Why was Sweden not directly involved in the First World War? Internal variables relating to a lack of political unity and to the public’s varying attitudes to Germany and the Western powers would have made it difficult for any government to choose a side in the war. Moreover, the Swedish parties and the public seem to have had internalized views corresponding to democratic peace ­theory – ­that Sweden would not enter the war unless it was attacked. However, internal variables can only explain why Sweden did not voluntarily enter the war. To understand why Sweden was not attacked we must turn to the external variables. To protect trade, naval bases and northern German cities, Germany had a strategic interest in preventing Allied warships from entering the Baltic Sea. If the British

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  51

and French navies had turned the Baltic Sea into a major theatre of operations (as they did during the Crimean War of 1853–1856), things may have turned out very differently. However, in the European theatre of operations the main war efforts were concentrated on the Western, Eastern and Southern Fronts. There was no ‘northern front’, and therefore the territory of the three Scandinavian countries remained strategically irrelevant. In contrast to Belgium, the three Scandinavian countries were not strategically exposed during the First World War.

The Balance of Power and Strategic Exposure of the Nordic Countries during the Second World War During the interwar era, the Nordic countries initially strongly supported the efforts by the League of Nations to build a new security order based on collective security, conflict mediation and agreements on arms reductions.40 However, in the 1930s the League repeatedly failed to respond efficiently to challenges to its system for collective security and multilateral diplomacy. After Italy’s invasion of Abyssinia and Germany’s remilitarization of the Rhineland in 1936, the Nordic countries and other traditionally neutral states realized that they would have to return to national measures to protect their security and independence.41 In August 1936, the foreign ministers of Denmark, Finland, Norway and Sweden met to discuss the possibility of a strengthened Nordic defence cooperation and a defensive small-­state alliance in which the four countries would commit themselves to supporting each other if they were attacked by any other state. If all four Nordic countries had entered a defensive alliance in 1936, the events of 1939–1940 might have played out differently. However, three of the countries were not ready to commit themselves. The Swedish foreign minister, Karl Gustaf Westman, declared that even though Sweden was by no means ‘indifferent to the fates of other Nordic countries’, it would continue to make decisions on what kind of assistance it would offer on a ‘case by case basis’. The Danish foreign minister, Peter Munch, informed his colleagues that he did not believe that any Nordic country was capable of giving effective military assistance if another Nordic country was attacked by a great power. The lack of opportunities for Denmark to receive outside help, and its demonstrated inability to defend itself against Germany, left Denmark with only one option: to try to cultivate good relations with Germany. The Norwegian foreign minister, Halvdan Koht, also argued that Nordic defence cooperation had to have support from at least one Western great power.42

52 • Jacob Westberg

The Finish foreign minister, Antii Hackzell, did not agree with his colleagues. Finland had the most recent war experiences, and its government clearly preferred Nordic defence cooperation to the only possible alternative, an alliance with Germany. At the time, there were already detailed plans for a defence cooperation between Finland and Sweden in the event of an attack against Finland by the USSR. In fact, the Swedish general staff had developed a plan that included the immediate transfer of the vast majority of the Swedish army to Finland if it was attacked from that direction.43 In May 1939, Finland and Sweden presented a plan for a joint remilitarization of the Åland Islands to the Council of the League of Nations. When the plan was discussed in the Council, the foreign minister of the USSR, Molotov, declared that a remilitarization of the Åland Islands was a threat to the security interests of the USSR. Because of this, the plan was withdrawn.44 On 23  August, a non-­ aggression pact between Germany and the USSR, the Molotov-­Ribbentrop pact, was announced. In a note from 1 October, the Swedish foreign minister, Rikard Sandler, wrote that the present situation was considerably different from that of the time of the writing of the Åland plan. The plan had been based on the eventuality of a war in the Baltic Sea between the USSR and Germany. As things now stood, he saw this as highly unlikely. Instead, he noticed that the USSR had used the loss of equilibrium in the balance of power to expand its influence in the region.45 Finland now faced a situation of having to confront an overwhelming great power on its own. After the Russian invasion had begun on 30  November 1939, the Swedish Parliament’s special committee for foreign affairs discussed the Swedish response to the war. Sandler argued that Swedish troops should be sent to Åland, but he was not able to garner any support. Sandler resigned, and prime minister Per Albin Hansson had to contact the Finnish government himself. In this conversation, Hansson explained that his government ruled over a ‘peaceful egoistic people’ who were not ready to go to war unless their own country was attacked. Even so, Sweden would still not declare itself neutral in the war between Finland and the USSR in 1939–1940. Instead, it provided substantial economic support to the Finns, some 8000 voluntary troops were allowed to go to Finland, and a great amount of military equipment was transferred to the country.46 On 9  April 1940, the German invasion of Denmark and Norway began. The new Swedish foreign minister, Christian Günter, received a visit from the German ambassador early the same morning. The ambassador informed him that Germany expected Sweden to pursue a policy of strict neutrality in the war between Germany and Denmark and Norway. Moreover, Sweden was to continue to deliver iron ore to Germany and

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  53

limit its military mobilization. In Denmark, the fighting was over within hours, but in Norway it continued with British and French military assistance until June. Sweden provided no assistance during this part of the war.47 Why were Denmark and Norway drawn into this war but not Sweden? One important reason for this was the wintertime delivery of Swedish iron ore. These supplies were of central importance to the German war effort, and in order to guarantee continued access to Swedish iron ore Germany had to control Norway and the entrance to the Baltic Sea. Immediately, British and French warships were on their way to deploy mines in Norwegian and Swedish territorial waters, and an expeditionary force aiming to take control of Bergen, Narvik, Stavanger and Trondheim was on its way. If Germany had not drawn Norway into the war at that time, Britain and France would probably have done so a few days later, and this may well have drawn Sweden into the war as well. The head of the British war cabinet, Winston Churchill, had previously argued that the deployment of sea mines in Norwegian territorial waters would provoke harsh German counter-­measures that could embroil Norway and Sweden in the war on the side of Britain and France.48 Germany’s occupation of Norway, and Finland’s successful efforts to protect its political independence, created both a need and an opportunity for Sweden to pursue an appeasement policy towards Germany. As long as Sweden continued to deliver iron ore and concede to German demands, such as transporting German troops on Swedish railways, it was not necessary for Germany to control Swedish territory. From 1942 onwards, Sweden’s appeasement policy towards Germany was gradually phased out and replaced with support for its own neighbours and for the allied war effort. During the last weeks of the war, the Swedish government agreed to enter into discussions on a common war effort with the allied military high command. These plans involved the transfer of 250,000 allied soldiers through Sweden to Norway. If these plans had materialized, Sweden would definitely have joined the allied war effort. However, before this discussion could take place, the Second World War had ended and Swedish neutrality narrowly preserved.49

Conclusions Governments of small states are often not free to decide whether or not to enter a war independently. Research on small states’ experiences during great power wars has presented a number of internal and external variables that can explain why some states have managed to achieve their aims

54 • Jacob Westberg

while others have not. This section presents a brief summary of the findings covered in this chapter regarding Sweden’s experiences during four ­wars – ­wars that it could potentially have been dragged into during its 200 years of peace. Internal variables relating to a lack of domestic unity and the presence of democratic controls of the executive parts of government are important for explaining why Sweden decided not to enter three of these wars. However, Sweden did send troops to Denmark during one of them. Domestic unity allowed Oscar I to support Denmark in the first phase of the Schleswig War in 1848: the king needed and received support from both the Swedish Parliament and the Norwegian government to send troops to Denmark. Lack of support from both the Norwegian and Swedish governments effectively prevented Charles XV from doing the same in 1863–1864, however. Then, in 1914, there were pro-­German sentiments within conservative circles, but they were counter-­balanced by support for the Western powers from members of the liberal and social democratic parties. Additionally, public opinion did not expect Sweden to take part in the war unless it was attacked. This lack of unity, along with ideas relating to democratic peace theory, made it very difficult for any Swedish government to enter the First World War voluntarily. In 1939– 1940, armed aggression against all other Nordic neighbouring countries was not enough to change this policy. This should not be surprising. It is hard to find an example of a European small state voluntarily entering the First or Second World Wars. The external variables known as balance of power and strategic exposure add an additional layer to help to explain Sweden’s policies during the four wars analysed in this chapter. Oscar I was very hesitant to propose military support for Denmark in 1848. He changed his mind only after receiving information indicating that Russia supported Sweden’s active policy and discovering that Russia, and potentially Britain, would support Denmark against the German states. In a similar manner, the Swedish government was not prepared to send even a peacekeeping force to Denmark in 1849 until it had received support for this measure from the great powers. In 1863–1864, and again in 1939, Denmark and Finland respectively were attacked by an overwhelmingly powerful great power without support from any other great power. On both occasions, the Swedish government declined to provide military assistance to its attacked neighbour despite previous promises or plans to do so. The lack of support from Western great powers in 1863–1864, and the destabilized equilibrium in the balance of power in the Baltic Sea region in 1863–1864 and 1939, exercised a restraining influence on the Swedish government’s decision to intervene militarily to support its Nordic neighbours. However, isolation-

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  55

ist strategies might have prevailed on both these occasions anyway, since the Swedish government may have hoped that the attack on its Nordic neighbour would not necessitate an attack on Sweden. The most important factor explaining Sweden’s 200 years of peace relates to the second external variable: strategic exposure. If Charles John had not traded Swedish Pomerania for Norway in 1814, creating an ‘insular geographical position’ for his future kingdom, Sweden would have suffered the same fate as Denmark during the German unification process. Possession of Swedish territory would have been a strategic interest for both Prussia and German liberal nationalists. During the First World War, the territory of all three Scandinavian countries enjoyed the benefit of being strategically irrelevant, since there was no northern front. If France and Britain had decided to make Scandinavia and the Baltic Sea region major theatres of operations in late 1939 or early 1940, we would probably not be writing a book on Sweden’s 200 years of peace. In reviewing the choices made by successive Swedish governments during the four wars analysed in this chapter, we see the overall tendency of a small state aware of its limitations to become a pawn in the European chess game. However, the lucky outcome of these decisions owes at least as much to geography as it does to political will. Jacob Westberg is Associate Professor in War Studies and Lecturer in Security Policy and Strategy at the Swedish Defence University. He has previously published books and articles on Sweden’s security policy and Nordic defence cooperation historically and presently. His latest publications includes three monographs on the military strategy of small states, middle powers and great powers.

Notes   1. Lars Ericsson Wolke, Svensk militärmakt: Strategi och operationer i svensk militärhistoria under 1500 år (Stockholm: Svenskt militärhistoriskt bibliotek, 2009), 155–158, 244; Martin Hårdstedt, Omvälvningarnas tid: Norden och Europa under revolutionsoch Napoleonkrigen (Stockholm: Norstedts, 2010), 363–364, 369–372.  2. Krister Wahlbäck, The Roots of Swedish Neutrality (Stockholm: Swedish Institute, 1986), 9–10.   3. Lars-­Arne Norborg, Sveriges historia under 1800- och 1900-talen: svensk samhällsutveckling 1809–1986 (Solna: Esselte Studium, 1988), 253–254.   4. Robert Rothstein, Alliances and Small Powers (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968), 29. For other definitions that emphasize the importance of the perceived

56 • Jacob Westberg

dependency on other states and institutions, see Ole Elgström, Images and Strategies for Autonomy: Explaining Swedish Security Policy Strategies in the 19th Century (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000), 24; Jeanne Hey, Small States in World Politics: Explaining Foreign Policy Behavior (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2003), 2.   5. Anders Wivel, Alyson Bailes and Clive Archer, ‘Setting the Scene: Small States and International Security’, in Clive Archer, Alyson Bailes and Anders Wivel (eds), Small States and International Security: Europe and Beyond (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014), 9. For a survey of research on small states during the Cold War and the post-­Cold War era, see Iver Neumann and Sieglinde Gstöhl, ‘Lilliputians in Gulliver’s World?’, in Christine Ingebritsen, Iver Neumann, Sieglinde Gstöhl and Jessica Beyer (eds), Small States in International Relations (Reykjavik: University of Iceland Press, 2006).  6. Michael Sheehan, Balance of Power: History and Theory (Abingdon: Routledge, 1996).  7. Rothstein, Alliances and Small Powers, 34–35.   8. Annette Baker Fox, The Power of Small States: Diplomacy in World War II (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1959), 183–184.   9. Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press, 1979), 126–127; Randall Schweller, ‘Bandwagoning for Profit: Bringing the Revisionist State Back In’, International Security 19(1), 1994, 74. 10. Baker Fox, The Power of Small States, 183–187; Rothstein, Alliances and Small Powers, 23–27. 11. Baker Fox, The Power of Small States, 187. 12. Stephen Walt, ‘Alliance Formation and the Balance of World Power’, International Security 9(4), 1985, 11; Schweller, ‘Bandwagoning for Profit’, 74. 13. Elgström, Images and Strategies for Autonomy. For a further discussion on the alignment strategies of small states, see Ole Elgström and Magnus Jerneck, ‘Activism and Adaptation’, Diplomacy and Statecraft 8(3), 1997; Håkan Edström, Dennis Gyllensporre and Jacob Westberg, Military Strategy of Small States: Responding to the External Shocks of the 21st Century (Abingdon: Routledge, 2019); Håkan Edström and Jacob Westberg, ‘Between the Eagle and the Bear: Explaining the Alignment Strategies of the Nordic Countries in the 21st Century’, Comparative Strategy 39(2), 2020. 14. Rothstein, Alliances and Small Powers, 32–34. For other works emphasizing the importance of geographical distance, see Baker Fox, The Power of Small States, 5, 183– 184; David Vital, The Inequality of States – A Study of the Small Power in International Relations (Oxford: Calderon Press, 1967), 1, 147. 15. Vital, The Inequality of States, 144; for a similar argument, see Baker Fox, The Power of Small States, 184. 16. Michael Doyle, ‘Liberalism and World Politics’, The American Political Science Review 80(4), 1986, 1156; Robert Jackson and Georg Sørensen, Introduction to International Relations: Theories and Approaches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 111–115. Scholarly interest in democratic peace theory grew in the 1990s. For a comprehensive collection of arguments for and against this theory, see Michael E. Brown, Sean M. Lynn-­Jones and Steven E. Miller (eds), Debating the Democratic Peace (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1996). 17. Doyle, ‘Liberalism and World Politics’, 1157–1160, 1164. 18. Joakim Scherp, ‘“Krig har en lång rumpa”: Riksdagen och den 200-­åriga fredens tidigmoderna rötter’, Historisk tidskrift 136(2), 2016.

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  57

19. Allan Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 1844–1872 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1961), 22; Ole Feldbæk, ‘Denmark and the Baltic, 1720–1864’, in Rystad Göran, Klaus-­Richard Böhme and Wilhelm M. Carlgren (eds), In Quest of Trade and Security: The Baltic in Power Politics 1500–1990 (Stockholm: Probus, 1994), 282– 284. 20. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 27; Claus Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, in Claus Bjørn and Carsten Due-­Nielsen (eds), Dansk udenrigspolitiks historie: 3, Fra helstat til nationalstat: 1814–1914 (Copenhagen: Gyldendal Leksikon, 2003), 104–106. 21. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 190–195; Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, 222–223. 22. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 43; Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, 104–106; Jacob Westberg, ‘Den nordiska småstatsrealismens rötter’, in Fredrik Doeser, Magnus Petersson and Jacob Westberg (eds), Norden mellan stormakter och fredsförbund: Nordiskt säkerhetspolitiskt samarbete i det gamla och nya Europa (Stockholm: Santérus Academic Press, 2012), 54. 23. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 15–20, 27–32; Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, 80–81. 24. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 32–35; Wahlbäck, The Roots of Swedish Neutrality, 13–14; Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, 108–109; Mats Hellstenius, Krigen som inte blev av: Sveriges fredliga officerskår vid 1800-talets mitt (Unpublished PhD dissertation: Lunds universitet, 2000), 60. 25. Hellstenius, Krigen som inte blev av. 26. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 195–199. 27. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 195–208; Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, 227–233. 28. Elgström, Images and Strategies for Autonomy, 60–61. 29. Elgström and Jerneck, ‘Activism and Adaptation’, 230–231; Jacob Westberg, Svenska säkerhetsstrategier (Lund: Studentlitteratur, 2015), 97–100. 30. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 31, 35–36; Bjørn, ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, 110–114. 31. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 42–49; Ove Bring, Neutralitetens uppgång och fall: eller Den gemensamma säkerhetens historia (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2008), 112–114. 32. Jansson, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 31–34. 33. Westberg, Svenska säkerhetsstrategier, 108–118. 34. The British troops were later replaced with forces from the United States. In contrast to the fates of other occupied states, the British and American occupations during the Second World War proved to be an economic blessing for Iceland. The money injected into its economy transformed Iceland into one of the wealthiest nations in the world by the end of the war. In 1949, Iceland, now fully politically independent from Denmark, became one of the founding member states of NATO, and US forces continued to maintain a presence in Iceland throughout the rest of the twentieth century. See Baldur Thorhallsson, ‘A Small State in World Politics: Iceland’s Search for Shelter’, Icelandic Review of Politics and Administration 14(1), 2018, 65. 35. Ian Ousby, Vägen till Verdun: Frankrike och första världskriget (Stockholm: Norstedts, 2003); Joseph S. Nye, Understanding International Conflicts: An Introduction to Theory and History (5th edn, New York: Pearson/Longman, 2005), 100–102; Christopher

58 • Jacob Westberg

Clark, The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914 (London: Allen Lane, 2012); Margaret MacMillan, The War that Ended Peace: The Road to 1914 (New York: Random House, 2013); Westberg, Svenska säkerhetsstrategier, 109–112. 36. Torsten Gihl, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 4, 1914–1919 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1951), 13–15. 37. Gihl, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 4, 30–31; Wilhelm Carlgren, Ministären Hammarskjöld: tillkomst – söndring – fall: studier i svensk politik 1914–1917 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1967), 9–15, 78. 38. Gihl, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 4, 40–41; Wahlbäck, The Roots of Swedish Neutrality, 23. 39. Westberg, Svenska säkerhetsstrategier, 116–120. 40. Bo Huldt, ‘Svensk nedrustnings- och säkerhetspolitik från tjugotal till åttiotal’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Neutralitet och försvar: perspektiv på svensk säkerhetspolitik 1809–1985 (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förlaget, 1986); Norbert Götz, ‘Blue-­eyed Angels at the League of Nations: The Genevese Construction of Norden’, in Norbert Götz and Heidi Haggrén (eds), Regional Cooperation and International Organizations: The Nordic Model in Transnational Alignment (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009); Jacob Westberg, ‘Den nordiska småstatsidealismens rötter’, in Fredrik Doeser, Magnus Petersson and Jacob Westberg (eds), Norden mellan stormakter och fredsförbund: Nordiskt säkerhetspolitiskt samarbete i det gamla och nya Europa (Stockholm: Santérus Academic Press Sweden, 2012). 41. Erik Lönnroth, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia: 5, 1919–1939 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1959), 144–146; Bring, Neutralitetens uppgång och fall, 352. 42. Lönnroth, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia: 5, 187–188; Carsten Due Nielsen, Dansk udenrigspolitiks historie: 3, Fra helstat til nationalstat: 1814–1914 (Copenhagen: Gyldendal Leksikon, 2003), 479–482; Krister Wahlbäck, ‘Neutralitet och solidaritet ett dilemma i svensk säkerhetspolitik 1920–1996’, in Fred och säkerhet i tider av förändring: essäer om utrikes- och säkerhetspolitik (Stockholm: Santérus, 2014), 119. 43. Arvid Cronenberg, ‘Säkerhetspolitik och krigsplanering: huvudlinjer i arméns operativa planering 1906–1945’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Neutralitet och försvar (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förlaget, 1986); Wilhelm Agrell, Fred och fruktan: Sveriges säkerhetspolitiska historia 1918–2000 (Lund: Historiska Media, 2000); Westberg, ‘Den nordiska småstatsrealismens rötter’. 44. Lönnroth, Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia: 5, 214–234; Kullervo Killinen, ‘Den nordiska neutralitetslinjen’, in Ilkka Hakalehto (ed.), Finland’s Utrikespolitik 1809– 1966 (Stockholm: Prisma, 1968), 93; Lena Kaukiainen, ‘From Reluctancy to Activity: Finland’s Way to the Nordic Family During the 1920s and 1930s’, Scandinavian Journal of History 9(3), 1984; Henrik Meinander, Finlands historia: linjer, strukturer, vändpunkter (Stockholm: Atlantis, 1999), 176–177. 45. Wilhelm Carlgren, ‘Den stora överraskningen. Regeringen och Moskvapakten’, in Alf W. Johansson and Bo Hugemark (eds), Stormvarning: Sverige inför andra världskriget (Stockholm: Svenskt militärhistoriskt bibliotek, 2002), 152. 46. Wilhelm Carlgren, Svensk utrikespolitik 1939–1945 (Stockholm: Allmänna förlaget, 1973), 62–64; Alf W. Johansson, ‘Neutralitet och modernitet: andra världskriget och Sveriges nationella identitet’, in Bo Huldt and Klaus-­Richard Böhme (eds), Horisonten klarnar: 1945 – krigsslut (Stockholm: Probus, 1995), 205; Westberg, ‘Den nordiska småstatsrealismens rötter’, 108–110; Wahlbäck, ‘Neutralitet och solidaritet’, 127–128. 47. Westberg, Svenska säkerhetsstrategier, 149–152.

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  59

48. Alf W. Johansson, ‘Mineringar och “hjälpexpeditioner”: Västmakternas planer gentemot Skandinavien 1939–1940’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Urladdning: 1940 – blixtkrigens år (Stockholm: Probus, 1990); Wolfgang Wilhelmus, ‘Det tyska anfallet mot Skandinavien’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Urladdning (Stockholm: Probus, 1990). 49. Leif Leifland, ‘Sverige 1945: Neutralt eller icke krigförande?’, in Bo Huldt and Klaus-­ Richard Böhme (eds), Horisonten klarnar (Stockholm: Probus, 1995); Westberg, Svenska säkerhetsstrategier.

Bibliography Agrell, Wilhelm. Fred och fruktan: Sveriges säkerhetspolitiska historia 1918–2000 (Lund: Historiska Media, 2000). Baker Fox, Annette. The Power of Small States: Diplomacy in World War II (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1959). Bjørn, Claus. ‘Arveføljeproblem og Treårskrig’, in Claus Bjørn and Carsten Due-­ Nielsen (eds), Dansk udenrigspolitiks historie: 3, Fra helstat til nationalstat: 1814–1914 (Copenhagen: Gyldendal Leksikon, 2003). Bring, Ove. Neutralitetens uppgång och fall: eller Den gemensamma säkerhetens historia (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2008). Brown, Michael E., Sean M. Lynn-­ Jones and Steven E. Miller (eds). Debating the Democratic Peace (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1996). Carlgren, Wilhelm. Ministären Hammarskjöld: tillkomst – söndring – fall: studier i svensk politik 1914–1917 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1967). _______. Svensk utrikespolitik 1939–1945 (Stockholm: Allmänna förlaget, 1973). _______. ‘Den stora överraskningen: Regeringen och Moskvapakten’, in Alf W. Johansson and Bo Hugemark (eds), Stormvarning: Sverige inför andra världskriget (Stockholm: Svenskt militärhistoriskt bibliotek, 2002). Clark, Christopher. The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914 (London: Allen Lane, 2012). Cronenberg, Arvid. ‘Säkerhetspolitik och krigsplanering: huvudlinjer i arméns operativa planering 1906–1945’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Neutralitet och försvar (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förlaget, 1986). Doyle, Michael. ‘Liberalism and World Politics’, The American Political Science Review 80(4), 1986, 1151–1169. Due Nielsen, Carsten. Dansk udenrigspolitiks historie: 3, Fra helstat til nationalstat: 1814– 1914 (Copenhagen: Gyldendal Leksikon, 2003). Edström, Håkan, Dennis Gyllensporre and Jacob Westberg. Military Strategy of Small States: Responding to the External Shocks of the 21st Century (Abingdon: Routledge, 2019). Edström, Håkan and Jacob Westberg. ‘Between the Eagle and the Bear: Explaining the Alignment Strategies of the Nordic Countries in the 21st Century’, Comparative Strategy 39(2), 2020, 191–208. Elgström, Ole. Images and Strategies for Autonomy: Explaining Swedish Security Policy Strategies in the 19th Century (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000). Elgström, Ole and Magnus Jerneck. ‘Activism and Adaptation’, Diplomacy and Statecraft 8(3), 1997, 210–236. Ericsson Wolke, Lars. Svensk militärmakt: Strategi och operationer i svensk militärhistoria under 1500 år (Stockholm: Svenskt militärhistoriskt bibliotek, 2009).

60 • Jacob Westberg

Feldbæk, Ole. ‘Denmark and the Baltic, 1720–1864’, in Rystad Göran, Klaus-­Richard Böhme and Wilhelm M. Carlgren (eds), In Quest of Trade and Security: The Baltic in Power Politics 1500–1990 (Stockholm: Probus, 1994). Gihl, Torsten. Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 4, 1914–1919 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1951). Götz, Norbert. ‘Blue-­eyed Angels at the League of Nations: The Genevese Construction of Norden’, in Götz Norbert and Heidi Haggrén (eds), Regional Cooperation and International Organizations: The Nordic Model in Transnational Alignment (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009). Hårdstedt, Martin. Omvälvningarnas tid: Norden och Europa under revolutions- och Napoleonkrigen (Stockholm: Norstedts, 2010). Hellstenius, Mats. Krigen som inte blev av: Sveriges fredliga officerskår vid 1800-talets mitt (Unpublished PhD dissertation: Lunds universitet, 2000). Hey, Jeanne. Small States in World Politics: Explaining Foreign Policy Behavior (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2003). Huldt, Bo. ‘Svensk nedrustnings- och säkerhetspolitik från tjugotal till åttiotal’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Neutralitet och försvar: perspektiv på svensk säkerhetspolitik 1809–1985 (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förlaget, 1986). Jackson, Robert and Georg Sørensen. Introduction to International Relations: Theories and Approaches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). Jansson, Allan. Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia 3, 1844–1872 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1961). Johansson, Alf W. ‘Mineringar och “hjälpexpeditioner”: Västmakternas planer gentemot Skandinavien 1939–1940’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Urladdning: 1940 – blixtkrigens år (Stockholm: Probus, 1990). _______. ‘Neutralitet och modernitet: andra världskriget och Sveriges nationella identitet’, in Bo Huldt and Klaus-­Richard Böhme (eds), Horisonten klarnar: 1945 – krigsslut (Stockholm: Probus, 1995). Kaukiainen, Leena. ‘From Reluctancy to Activity: Finland’s Way to the Nordic Family During the 1920s and 1930s’, Scandinavian Journal of History 9(3), 1984, 201–219. Killinen, Kullervo. ‘Den nordiska neutralitetslinjen’, in Ilkka Hakalehto (ed.), Finland’s Utrikespolitik 1809–1966 (Stockholm: Prisma, 1968). Leifland, Leif. ‘Sverige 1945: Neutralt eller icke krigförande?’, in Bo Huldt and Klaus-­ Richard Böhme (eds), Horisonten klarnar (Stockholm: Probus, 1995). Lönnroth, Erik. Den svenska utrikespolitikens historia: 5, 1919–1939 (Stockholm: Norstedts, 1959). MacMillan, Margaret. The War that Ended Peace: The Road to 1914 (New York: Random House, 2013). Meinander, Henrik. Finlands historia: linjer, strukturer, vändpunkter (Stockholm: Atlantis, 1999). Neumann, Iver and Sieglinde Gstöhl. ‘Lilliputians in Gulliver’s World?’, in Christine Ingebritsen, Iver Neumann, Sieglinde Gstöhl and Jessica Beyer (eds), Small States in International Relations (Reykjavik: University of Iceland Press, 2006). Norborg, Lars-­Arne. Sveriges historia under 1800- och 1900-talen: svensk samhällsutveckling 1809–1986 (Solna: Esselte Studium, 1988). Nye, Joseph S. Understanding International Conflicts: An Introduction to Theory and History (5th edn, New York: Pearson/Longman, 2005). Ousby, Ian. Vägen till Verdun: Frankrike och första världskriget (Stockholm: Norstedts, 2003).

Explaining Sweden’s 200 Years of Peace  •  61

Rothstein, Robert. Alliances and Small Powers (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968). Scherp, Joakim. ‘“Krig har en lång rumpa”: Riksdagen och den 200-­åriga fredens tidigmoderna rötter’, Historisk tidskrift 136(2), 2016, 149–184. Schweller, Randall. ‘Bandwagoning for Profit: Bringing the Revisionist State Back’, International Security 19(1), 1994, 72–107. Sheehan, Michael. Balance of Power: History and Theory (Abingdon: Routledge, 1996). Thorhallsson, Baldur. ‘A Small State in World Politics: Iceland’s Search for Shelter’, Icelandic Review of Politics and Administration 14(1), 2018, 61–82. Vital, David. The Inequality of States – A Study of the Small Power in International Relations (Oxford: Calderon Press, 1967). Wahlbäck, Krister. The Roots of Swedish Neutrality (Stockholm: Swedish Institute, 1986). _______. ‘Neutralitet och solidaritet ett dilemma i svensk säkerhetspolitik 1920–1996’, in Fred och säkerhet i tider av förändring: essäer om utrikes- och säkerhetspolitik (Stockholm: Santérus, 2014). Walt, Stephen. ‘Alliance Formation and the Balance of World Power’, International Security 9(4), 1985, 3–43. Waltz, Kenneth. Theory of International Politics (Long Grove, IL: Waveland Press, 1979). Westberg, Jacob. ‘Den nordiska småstatsidealismens rötter’, in Fredrik Doeser, Magnus Petersson and Jacob Westberg (eds), Norden mellan stormakter och fredsförbund: Nordiskt säkerhetspolitiskt samarbete i det gamla och nya Europa (Stockholm: Santérus Academic Press Sweden, 2012). _______. ’Den nordiska småstatsrealismens rötter’, in Fredrik Doeser, Magnus Petersson and Jacob Westberg (eds), Norden mellan stormakter och fredsförbund: Nordiskt säkerhetspolitiskt samarbete i det gamla och nya Europa (Stockholm: Santérus Academic Press, 2012). _______. Svenska säkerhetsstrategier (Lund: Studentlitteratur, 2015), 97–100. Wilhelmus, Wolfgang. ‘Det tyska anfallet mot Skandinavien’, in Bo Hugemark (ed.), Urladdning (Stockholm: Probus, 1990). Wivel, Anders, Alyson Bailes and Clive Archer. ‘Setting the Scene: Small States and International Security’, in Clive Archer, Alyson Bailes and Anders Wivel (eds), Small States and International Security: Europe and Beyond (Abingdon: Routledge, 2014).

Chapter 3

Swedish Peace Movements and the Breakup of the Forced Union between Sweden and Norway in 1905 Fredrik Egefur

R The so-­called Union Crises of 1895 and 1905, when Norway ­tried – ­ ltimately s­ uccessfully – ­to break free from the forced union with Sweden u that had existed since 1814, were probably among the greatest threats to Sweden’s 200 years of peace. The crises were diplomatic situations in which Sweden itself emerged as the potentially most violent participant in ­events – ­quite a contrast to its conduct later in the century, especially during the Second World War. Important agents that stood in the way of Swedish military participation in the Union Crises were the various organized peace movements that existed at the time. One was the Swedish Peace and Arbitration Association (Svenska freds- och s­ kiljedomsföreningen – S ­ FSF), which emerged in 1883 and was mostly composed of activists and had branches in Parliament. Another was the Labour movement, which started to grow strong after the foundation of the Social Democratic Workers’ Party (Socialdemokratiska ­arbetarpartiet – ­SAP) in 1889, which had anti-­ militarism as one of its core beliefs. Both the socialist anti-­militarists of the SAP and the liberal pacifists of the SFSF emerged as part of wider movements in Europe taking place at the same time and were linked to their respective international umbrella organizations, the International Peace Bureau (IPB) and the Second International (SI). Over time, it was the parties’ two youth unions in particular which set the anti-­militarist struggle as the very cornerstone of their parties’ political activity. In this chapter, I will first describe these international movements, with the International Peace Bureau and the Second International at the

Swedish Peace Movements  •  63

centre, and then show how their Swedish subdivisions were founded and subsequently connected to the international debate. Finally, I will examine how the movements became extensively involved in the two Union Crises, combining to prevent a war with Norway. This section is thus placed primarily between Jacob Westberg’s and Leos Müller’s chapters, but also relates to Christopher Seiberlich’s and Anne Hedén’s contributions. In the first place, it aims to shed light on who the organized actors were that actively fought for peace in Sweden around the turn of the century, and what drove them forward. An important element of the analysis comes from new source studies on the formation of the SFSF in particular, and on the various youth associations’ orientation and ideological self-­understanding. The international perspective also offers both an interesting and necessary way to analyse the Swedish peace and/or anti-­militarist movements because so much of their practice drew on international debates that had been ongoing for quite a while by the time they reached Sweden.1 And in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Union in 1905, both the Second International and the International Peace Bureau, in a rare successful attempt to preserve peace, also acknowledged Sweden’s policy of neutrality.

The International Peace Movement One of the principle characteristics of Europe in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was nationalism. Nationalist ideas bonded societies together, so that the outbreak of the First World War in 1914 can be seen as an inevitable destination for the continent throughout that period.2 Given the eventual culmination of world events in war, the popular movements that had done their best to rally public opinion against conflict and in favour of internationalism in the preceding decades have widely been considered as major failures. Less well understood is the fact that the nascent international peace movement had made a significant impact on the public debate at the turn of the previous ­century – w ­ ith consequences even for the rest of the 1900s. We first need to recognize that there was no single ‘peace movement’ – instead of talking about something homogenous, we should acknowledge that there were actually two very different kinds of movement, each with its own agenda, even though the fight for peace was common to both. The main differences between them were their ideological ­roots – o­ ne liberal/bourgeois and one ­socialist – ­with members of different classes making up their respective ranks. The liberal/bourgeois peace movement,

64 • Fredrik Egefur

with its roots in the Quaker community, had developed over the course of the nineteenth century from various smaller groups, and in 1891 the International Peace Bureau (IPB) was set up to unite these different organizations. From its base in Bern it came up with working strategies and arranged several peace congresses across Europe. A large part of the IPB’s work was to serve as a centre for member organizations in different countries across Europe and the Americas. For the socialist/labour movement, anti-­militarism was an important question even in the days of the First International, founded in 1864. Even greater emphasis was then put on the issue of sustaining peace by the Second International (SI), founded in Paris in 1889, and again by its permanent executive and information body, the International Socialist Bureau (ISB), founded in 1900. Yet, even though a great deal of practical work was done to support the peace cause, one of the Second International movement’s basic tenets was that no ‘real’ peace would emerge until a socialist society was created. The IPB and the SI both grew quickly between 1889 and 1914, clearly demonstrated by the work they did. At the beginning of 1914, the IPB was organizing over 200 peace associations and representing around one million members, including the SFSF. At the same time, it was publishing twenty-­three different newspapers in ten different languages. The SI had by then gathered around four million members, and different social democratic parties were active in most European parliaments. One of them was SAP. Numerous newspapers and close co-­operative associations, such as unions, were under its control. At a time of militarism, imperialism and Western dominance, the SI was creating various resistance movements to present challenging ideas about peace; and this in turn led to the emergence of various new forms of political struggle and advocacy. It is important to note that the movements differed significantly in terms of their relative strength in different ­countries – ­not least between Germany and France. The German Social Democratic Party (SPD), for example, was the largest social democratic party in Europe at the time, and it outnumbered the German bourgeois peace movement by far. In France, the situation was the opposite. While the French labour movement was split into a number of ideological factions, the French bourgeois peace movement was a unified and powerful political player. One of the ways in which the perspective of the movements diverged most significantly was their approach to the triggers and underlying causes of war. The movements’ understanding of the nature of war tells us not only how and why they thought it should be resisted but also what kind of world they wanted to see in the future. Examples of more or less utopian goals existed in both movements. To fully understand these goals we need

Swedish Peace Movements  •  65

to engage with the movements’ analyses of their war-­ridden contemporary context: how their current reality had emerged and how their ideas were now being built. Both movements initially departed from an individualist perspective: they believed that humans were intrinsically evil, had behaved so historically, and that the causes of war could be attributed to the sinister and wrongful actions of those in power. However, within the IPB this conviction in the innateness of evil was challenged in part by the influential work of three Nobel Laureates from within their ranks, Élie Ducommun, Randall Cremer and Bertha von Suttner. These thinkers accepted that humankind may well have been barbaric and war-­prone since the beginning of time, but proposed that this did not necessarily mean that humanity could not embrace a more peaceful approach in the future. They placed much hope in the currently emerging frameworks for containing violent conflict, such as courts of arbitration. This suggests that there was some faith in the power of structures in the IPB. Indeed, this liberal and humanist school of thought envisioned peace as a state in which individual actors would collaborate with legal institutions to prevent outbreaks of violence in the short term, while the long-­term goal was the emancipation of all humanity, raising it to a higher moral standard of living. Members of the SI had an entirely different view on the causes of war. For them, the individualist perspective was not prominent. Instead, the movement emphasized structural explanations, putting class issues front and centre. War between states was mainly understood as an effect of states’ quest for power over the world market: capitalist states always sought to extend their markets by conquering and seizing control of other states, along with their territories and resources. Furthermore, the SI believed that war was a result of ever-­increasing military ­investment – ­investment which simultaneously served to bolster the dominance of the bourgeois class and to subordinate the working class economically and politically. War was thus conceptualized as an essential and enduring feature of the capitalist ­order – ­war would not cease to exist until capitalism did so. This perspective can be summed up as follows: capitalism is war, socialism is peace. It is important also to consider how the movements envisioned the best way to foster a successful popular movement for peace, and to do so we need to look at other differences between the two different anti-­war movements and how they each negotiated questions of class and gender. Examining the liberal-­bourgeois IPB’s relationship to the broader labour movement reveals several interesting ideological beliefs. For instance, the widespread poverty of the working class was addressed in several of its resolutions and measured against the military expenditure of several countries, which in

66 • Fredrik Egefur

many cases amounted to over half of their annual state budget. Several of the IPB’s statements stressed that the working class bore the biggest brunt of war. The IPB also set out elaborate plans to recruit members of the working class. Yet it also appears that the organization did not consider the labour movement’s own peace struggle to be sufficient, and it rejected the SI’s solutions to broader political issues. Instead, the IPB considered it important to soften the radical demands of the labour movement in order to foster consensus and unity within the anti-­war movement so that it could involve both socialists and capitalist corporations. This reveals the lack of a class perspective in the IPB’s analysis of the peace question. Despite this, the IPB saw itself as promoting unity, believing that everyone should rally around a shared humanitarian cause. A key difference between the liberal bourgeois and the socialist anti-­war movements, then, was that while the former considered itself to be acting in the interest of humanity at large (for ‘the good of all’), the latter saw itself as being both of and for the labour movement, defending the specific interests of the working class. As such, the labour movement broke with the enlightenment doctrine of which a universal, shared ‘public interest’ was a central component, choosing instead to prioritize the working class even when it came to the question of war. In other words, the socialist labour movement emphasized class conflict, which set it apart from the liberal perspective which prevailed within the IPB. This also informed the SI’s negative approach to collaboration within the broader struggle for peace. The internal debate that developed within the international labour movement led to the conclusion that the working class was the only collective agent capable of bringing about progressive developments on social issues, and especially the question of peace. The predominant ideological viewpoint was that there was no other road to a lasting peace but socialist revolution. However, this perspective was continuously challenged, both ­theoretically – ­by revisionist socialists in Germany and other c­ ountries – ­and ­practically – ­through increased collaboration between the liberal and socialist factions of the anti-­war movement, such as in the Nordic countries and France. Leading figures of the labour movement, like Jean Jaurès in France, Eduard Bernstein in Germany and Hjalmar Branting in Sweden, along with British representatives of the SI, actively began working with liberal peace organizations; as we shall see, this was also the path that Swedish resistance to a war with Norway would take. The SI also adopted different organizational strategies and had a seemingly broader repertoire of strategic ‘weapons’ than its bourgeois counterpart. In contrast to the liberals, the socialists dedicated considerable time and effort to developing an action plan for how to mobilize resistance

Swedish Peace Movements  •  67

in the event of military escalation. It also pushed for long-­term political reform, such as the formation of peoples’ militias instead of standing armies, while at the same time it attempted to rally public opinion against militarism by exposing its economic and humanitarian consequences. Yet, even though they were wider in scope, these strategies did partly overlap with those of the bourgeois ­movement – ­in particular, both agreed on the issues of arbitration and disarmament. Both organizations also utilized certain similar methods of organizing, including awareness-­raising and deterrence campaigns targeted at the broader public. The position of the SI also shifted over time, and was eventually characterized by a more pragmatic approach to politics. This ultimately broke with the orthodox Marxist standpoint, championed by the leadership of the German SPD, that collaboration with bourgeois organizations should be avoided. Even though it was never stated explicitly, much of the strategic debate within the SI from 1889 to 1914 revolved around the potential use of certain strategic weapons and the introduction of ideas more typically discussed by liberal and other bourgeois peace organizations, such as the use of arbitration courts. Meanwhile, the more outward-­oriented activities of the liberal bourgeois peace movement were organized around a strategic assessment of how best to build popular support for its cause in a period marked by rising ­patriotism – ­a time when the peace movement was facing much scepticism and suspicion for being anti-­patriotic. The activists’ bourgeois background and their experiences of moving within the upper social strata of society shaped their outlook on strategic issues. Over time, the IPB also come to be influenced by their socialist counterparts in their analysis of the causes of war. However, the organization never adopted the socialists’ strategic approach or use of weapons. Despite the differences of approach that remained between them, the role of the notion and practice of ‘internationalism’ remained important to both movements: specifically, the intertwined issues of nationalism, the nation state and imperialism were closely connected to the peace question. The SI’s notion of internationalism was derived from the Chartist movement of the 1830s and 1840s, as well as from the theoretical writings of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels from 1848 onwards. The principle of internationalism itself was rarely questioned, but opinions diverged on matters of colonialism and labour immigration. The IPB, for its part, was divided between two main theories. The first, which was developed by Richard Cobden of the Manchester school, promoted free trade and non-­ interventionism. The second, inspired by the works of Giuseppe Mazzini, embraced the ideas of republicanism and national sovereignty. This translated into a critique of the European multi-­national empires.

68 • Fredrik Egefur

It is clear, then, that at the beginning of the twentieth century the two international peace movements had several characteristics in common. Both promoted the ideals of internationalism to prevent outbreaks of war, and both considered arbitration courts and international law to be important tools in the struggle for peace. Both movements were also heavily invested in conceptual-­ theoretical and practical struggles over the definition and meaning of ‘peace’ and ‘internationalism’. How they conceptualized these notions influenced their strategic priorities. Both movements would also publicly criticize the several armed conflicts that broke out during the era, for example the Boer War in South Africa, the Russian-­Japanese War of 1904–1905 and the two wars in the Balkans before 1914. The struggle to prevent violent conflict would often be left to the national organizations and their political wings. As we shall see, this was also the case in the two Union Crises.

The Swedish Bourgeois Peace Movement The roots of the Swedish liberal peace movement can thus be traced back to the intermingling of the Christian pacifist tradition and the Manchester liberal school. The Quakers were not represented in Sweden to any great degree, but the so-­called herrnhutarna (a popular religious movement of German origin) was more prominent, and pursued the peace issue as part of its piety-­oriented Lutheranism.3 Gradually, this approach was picked up by the emerging Free Church movement. The Manchester School had also, in turn, attracted interest among circles of economists and publishers in the 1860s, and its peaceful side had been emphasized. This flow of enthusiasm would be channelled through, among other groups, the so-­called Neoliberal Society (not to be confused with contemporary ‘neoliberalism’), which was also pushing radical issues such as voting rights, parliamentarism, religious freedom and women’s emancipation.4 The Neoliberal Society in Sweden was represented in the Swedish Parliament of 1868–1871, but it was divided, partly because of disputes over defence. This was an ever-­recurring issue that had blighted several ministries during the 1870s and 1880s. In addition, from 1870 onwards more committed peace work was carried out on a Scandinavian basis within the Nordic Free State Association, which had been initiated by the Danish former nobleman and soldier Fredrik Bajer, who was particularly active in the Scandinavian peace movement. What raised the issue of the struggle for peace in Sweden, and thus led to the origins of the Swedish Peace and Arbitration Association, was the strong opposition to Prime Minister Arvid Posses’s proposal to found a

Swedish Peace Movements  •  69

new military order in the early 1880s.5 Liberal factions within Parliament probably saw the formation of the association as one of the ways to put pressure on the government. The SFSF was thus formally founded on 24  February 1883 at a meeting in the Hotel Rydberg in Stockholm. Present were about sixty liberal members of parliament, primarily from the Second chamber.6 A second meeting was held in early April, where the association’s statutes and programme were adopted.7 Convening on behalf of ‘a number of peace friends within the parliament’ were the then well-­known long-­standing peace advocates and liberal activists Sven Adolf Hedlund and Jonas Jonasson. They had since the 1860s presented a series of motions in Parliament aimed at disarmament, or even a unilateral neutrality proclamation.8 The fact that there had been a rapid loss of membership among the members of parliament who had been involved in forming the SFSF after the fall of prime minister Posse’s government indicates that most of them did not see long-­term membership to be of real importance. In addition, there were different views on the defence issue even within the association; some advocated armed neutrality, while plenty also cherished the remaining Scandinavian neutrality ideals of the 1860s (which are outlined in Westberg’s contribution to this book). Occasionally, even anti-­defence positions were discussed, although not too frequently. Nonetheless, the association survived. Its leader for several years was the left-­liberal publicist and Free Church activist K.-P. Arnoldson, who also served as editor of the association’s first newspapers.9 Other liberals, such as Carl Sundblad and Edward Wavrinsky, succeeded him. A reasonable assessment would be that it was precisely thanks to a small number of enthusiasts that the association did not perish like other, more-­or-­less short-­lived societies at this time, which were in many ways characterized by their multifaceted nature.10 Despite the dwindling interest of members of parliament, the association spread throughout the country in the 1880s and 1890s. By the middle of the decade, membership figures in excess of 7000 were being reported, although there is reason to be somewhat sceptical of that number.11 Its work at this time consisted mainly of publishing writings and pamphlets, arranging lectures and meetings and, not least, sending out so-­called peace missionaries, who acted as the movement’s own agitators. Long-­ time chairman Sundblad would play an important role in this field.12 It was common for the SFSF to collaborate with various like-­minded organizations, mainly Free Church parishes or sobriety associations, but also with voting-­rights associations or labour clubs. For example, in 1883 Arnoldsson delivered the opening speech at the Swedish Good-­Templars annual meeting, and around the same time he collaborated with a young

70 • Fredrik Egefur

Hjalmar Branting to start the magazine Tiden.13 This magazine functioned as the unofficial body of the association for its first few years. It was replaced in 1884 by the weekly magazine Fredsvännen (‘The Friend of Peace’). The struggle to keep this newspaper alive is a recurring issue found in the minutes, and records of rescue actions through collections or grants are common. In general, factional struggles and tough discussions regarding the newspaper’s direction and future appear to have been persistent.14 Fredsvännen was finally closed down in 1888 and replaced in 1893 by Ned med vapnen (‘Lay Down Your Arms’ – the title was taken from Bertha von Suttner’s famous novel), which also had a long history of financial difficulties until its closure in 1898. The SFSF continued to act within the liberal sphere throughout the recurring conflicts. The customs issue sometimes appears to have been at least as important as the peace issue. This indicates that the free-­trade-­oriented peace aspirations that had been important to the international peace movement ever since the 1860s, and which were seen as a way of linking countries more closely through trade in order to make war impossible, continued to have relevance. The movement’s conservative-­minded opponents, who stood for a protectionist line, disagreed vehemently. It is clear that from the SFSF’s side protectionism was linked to advocacy of increased armament, while deep political mistrust never subsided.15 One important issue that divided the SFSF early on concerned the union with Norway. There was a clear patriotic line within the association, for example. The first meeting concluded with the cry ‘Long live the Fatherland!’ Statements celebrating the ‘true friends of the country’, who, unlike the conservatives’ ‘punch patriots’, wanted the best for the country, were also common. For example, in a long article in Fredsvännen on the subject of schooling there is a harsh attack on precisely those ‘false homeland’ friends who were trying to create a false image of the country: A false love of the motherland is made the foremost ­virtue – ­a love of the motherland that teaches that the noblest worth of citizens is to reconstitute their countries for the day of battle. . . . This comparison is characteristic. It shows how the false education creating love of the motherland skews [us] both theoretically and practically. It falsifies the truth of exalting one’s own nation and contributes to arousing near mutual prejudice and mutual hatred among the p ­ eoples – a­ ll for the benefit of the few who wish to keep the peoples apart and alien to each other for the sake of their selfish interests.16

Over time, cooperation with the Norwegian Peace Association became frequent; when the first Union Crisis occurred in 1895, the SFSF took an active line in support of the Norwegians.17

Swedish Peace Movements  •  71

During the 1890s, the Norwegian critique of the Union had reached a new level, as Norway demanded increased independence, whereupon the Conservative government in Sweden, aligned with King Oscar II, seriously threatened it militarily. A war therefore did not appear impossible.18 At one of its board meetings, the SFSF discussed the issue in so ‘lively’ a manner that the meeting had to be postponed, which shows that a purely pacifist line was not fully accepted even within the association.19 At the next meeting, however, a resolution was agreed upon. This is interesting in that it placed a moral aspect on the war and presented an idea that called for negotiations, both features that were so often advocated in the international debates on arbitration: ‘Every appeal to violence is absolutely reprehensible and unworthy of civilized people. Through open negotiation, without any conjecture, characterized by justice, willingness and mutual gratification, it is our hope that a satisfactory agreement will be reached for both peoples. Peace is preserved only through justice’.20 The resolution also called for demonstrations against the war around the ­country – w ­ hich did then take place. At a meeting in Stockholm, social democrats Hjalmar Branting and August Palm, together with the radical liberal Knut Wicksell, among others, participated in these demonstrations; and the cooperation between the peace movement and the labour movement during the first Union Crisis was generally extensive. According to its own flyer, titled ‘Protest Meetings’, such meetings had been arranged at forty-­four locations around the country and gathered ‘at least 30,000 people’. In addition, a number of resolutions had been adopted by the movement.21 The large number of demonstrations around the country likely helped to stop any war plans at the time. It can be argued that through its cooperation with other popular movements, the peace movement had become an influential actor in political developments.22 It is also worth noting that the peace question once again became relevant in Parliament when a new inter-­parliamentary peace group was formed in 1894. In 1896, the group presented four longer motions based on the SFSF’s statutes. The most important force here was probably Wavrinsky, who, notably enough, sat as liberal parliamentary member of the Second chamber and served as secretary in its peace group, was editor of Ned med vapnen, and, between 1896 and 1898, also served as the SFSF chairman.23 However, the motions were rejected by a large majority in both the First and Second chambers of Parliament. Regarding another of the association’s core issues, opposition to an extended reorganization of the army, things went worse. In 1901, the organization of the armed forces changed dramatically. In essence, the old conscription system (indelningsverket) was abolished and general military service was introduced, and the service period was extended from 90 to

72 • Fredrik Egefur

between 240 and 365 days. However, the officer corps remained, and lower officers were promoted from a new group of permanent staff; the hierarchical structure was thus hardly affected.24 This issue had been a potential problem for a long time in Swedish domestic politics and had even acted as a catalyst for the founding of the SFSF. Much of the association’s overt propaganda had from the outset been driven by opposition to this sort of defence reform, and disappointment over ratification of this measure was evident.25 Around the turn of the century the SFSF emerged as a relatively established movement, but it did not have an especially large number of members even at a time of extensive association activities. Internationally, though, considerably more was happening. The international bourgeois peace movement had grown larger, and, on and off, the IPB had managed to gain some support from state leaders in different countries. After the conference in The Hague 1899, a permanent arbitration court had been established; not least, Alfred Nobel had, at his death, instituted a Peace Prize in his memory to be handed out every year. The Union relationship also continued to cast its shadow over Swedish peace work, one result being increased Nordic cooperation between the various associations. The introduction of general military service and increased defence efforts also brought new players into the already congested defence policy arena, namely the socialist youth movements known as the ‘Young Socialists’ and the ‘Young Democrats’. Anti-­militarism, or even ‘defence nihilism’, came to strongly characterize these two movements and should be seen primarily as a political struggle against the building up of national armed forces and armament. The activities of the SFSF also became influenced by the youth unions’ wild anti-­militaristic ­propaganda – t­hough originally it was far from its own philosophy. The authorities responded with more legislation against anti-­ militaristic propaganda.

The Socialist Youth Organizations and Anti-Militarism As mentioned above, the Swedish Social Democratic Party was founded in 1889, the same year as the SI. Party membership gradually increased throughout the 1890s, and after the turn of the century the party also began to be represented in Parliament. Later, in 1917, the SAP finally managed to form a government together with the Liberals. However, over a period of five years, between 1903 and 1908, as a result of internal conflicts there emerged two competing youth unions within the party. This coincided with the culmination of an anti-­militarist propaganda campaign

Swedish Peace Movements  •  73

in Sweden which also had consequences for the development of the SAP. One of the central dividing lines between the two unions was their views on militarism and their tactics on how to combat it. A nationwide youth association of the SAP had originally been formed in ­1897 – ­the Swedish Socialist Youth Association, or ‘Young Socialists’, with its central committee in Stockholm. Over time, however, the emphasis of the association shifted southward, and in 1900 both the head committee and the association’s newspaper, Brand, were moved to the city of Landskrona. Among the leading activists were two brothers, Albert and Willhelm Jensen. At the same time, a local club in Malmö was gaining members. Under the leadership of journalists Herman Österdahl and Fabian Månsson, a young shop assistant (and future prime minister) Per Albin Hansson, and his friend (and future Minister of Social Affairs) Gustav Möller, this group adopted a somewhat more cautious line than the absolutist and slightly anarchist-­inclined Landskrona club.26 Along with the military reforms of 1901, the anti-­militarist question had had a major impact on the Young Socialists. Marx’s aphorism ‘the worker has no fatherland’ was cited frequently, and it was used to justify s­ trikes – ­i.e. refusing military service. Certainly aversion to the elites within their own party increased. In particular, the Young Socialists followed the lead of the emerging French syndicalist movement, which had actively contributed to the formation of an anti-­militarist martial organization called the Association Internationale Antimilitaristes des Travailleurs in 1904. To the young socialists of the Malmö Club these ideas seemed foreign, and so instead they emphasized the importance of a good relationship with the mother party. A patriotic approach, they claimed, did not exclude international cooperation; this was something that also characterized the largest social democratic parties on the continent, in France and Germany. The two phalanxes tested their powers at the Fourth Congress of the Young Socialists in Stockholm in 1903. Here, the Landskrona-­led leftist faction won on almost every front: questioning parliamentarism, religion (and the church), the view of the nation and, not least, the military issue. A central feature of the agenda of young socialism was that political action should be taken in the present, an idea that was explicitly derived from the French debate. Long-­term work on universal suffrage was rejected, and instead immediate action was emphasized as ‘the propaganda of the act’, and often expressed by wild strikes, illegal newspaper publishing, etc.27 As a result, at its next local meeting the Malmö Club decided to leave the Young Socialists. Instead, the Social Democratic Youth League, or the ‘Young Democrats’, was founded, with a board of people from Malmö and its surroundings. The Young Democrats soon founded their own

74 • Fredrik Egefur

newspaper, Fram! (‘Forward!’), and achieved significant success in terms of membership across the country.28 However, its opponents also mobilized, and soon there was again a Young Socialist club in Malmö. Here, as in other places, their activities were characterized, at least for a couple of years, by battles in the press and attempts to disrupt each other’s meetings and other activities. Eventually, however, the Young Democrats also turned anti-­militarist. Not least, they worked with the Young Socialists to prevent war in connection with the Union Crisis in 1905. The following year, a joint anti-­militarism agitation committee was also formed in Malmö, which subsequently led to regular negotiations moving towards a mutual agreement.29 The anti-­militaristic issue reached its peak in the Swedish debate at this time. The protests against military conscription, the fierce anti-­militarist propaganda of the labour movement, and the anti-­war propaganda of the liberals, all influenced many young activists to become involved politically. The Union Crisis of 1905 became a kind of perfect storm, where several organizations cooperated to stop an upcoming war, not least the radical liberals in the Swedish bourgeois peace movement, as stated above. The next section, however, describes the activities taken by the labour movement to stop a war, with special focus on the Young Socialists and their internal and external actions.

The Union Crisis of 1905 Having been a part of Denmark for several centuries, Norway, at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, was hoping for independence. With the Peace Treaty of Kiel 1814, however, the king of Denmark-­Norway instead had to relinquish Norway to the king of Sweden. The Kiel Treaty was met with resentment in Norway, and the governor, Christian Frederik, led a Norwegian uprising with demands for independence. On 17 May 1814, the Kingdom of Norway’s constitution was established in the National Assembly at Eidsvoll, and Christian Frederik was elected Norwegian king. Sweden went to war against Norway the same summer to enforce the Union in accordance with the provisions of the Kiel Treaty. Through the Moss Convention of 14  August, the parties signed a ceasefire and Sweden’s crown prince, Karl Johan, agreed to let Norway retain its constitution and internal self-­government in exchange for Christian Fredrik’s abdication, and on the proviso that the Norwegian Parliament choose the Swedish king as Norwegian king. This meant that when Norway accepted the amendments to the constitution, which entry into the Union required, the country was in all

Swedish Peace Movements  •  75

other matters allowed to exist as an independent state. The countries had no other joint institutions except the king and their foreign representation, both of which were subject to Swedish control. Regardless of this arrangement, in Sweden the result was generally considered as a conquest of Norway. In Norway, however, the Union was looked upon as a treaty between two independent states.30 The arrangement worked fairly well throughout the nineteenth century, but eventually new Norwegian politicians demanded their own foreign representation, further autonomy, and eventually even independence. At the end of the century the differences between the countries started to become apparent. Norway’s economy was more dependent on foreign trade than Sweden’s, and more sensitive to the protectionism that the Swedish right wing, and often the Swedish government, was fighting for. Norway also had tighter trade and other links with Britain than Sweden, which was historically closer to Germany. All in all, Norwegians felt that their foreign policy interests were inadequately served by the Swedish ministry of foreign affairs. According to the so-­called National Act of 1814, which included rules for how the Union should function, matters common to Sweden and Norway would be dealt with in a so-­called composite cabinet. Foreign affairs, however, were completely exempt from consideration by the cabinet. There was no formal provision whatsoever about how to handle this group of joint affairs. In practice, they would be dealt with by the king, who was both Sweden’s and Norway’s head of state. To aid him, he adopted the already existing Swedish foreign administration. The foreign minister of the United Kingdoms of Sweden and Norway was therefore a purely Swedish official, appointed to the Swedish cabinet and paid by the Swedish treasury. The ministry of foreign affairs was also a Swedish institution, which meant that Norwegians had little influence over foreign policy decisions. This, however, did not apply to the constitution’s rules for office appointments, which made it open to both Norwegians and Swedes.31 When a major conflict finally broke out between the countries in the 1890s, matters came to a head over the so-­called ‘consulate affair’, when successive Norwegian governments insisted that Norway should establish its own consular service abroad rather than rely on the joint consuls appointed by the Swedish foreign minister. Sweden refused, and, in the first Union Crisis of 1895, the situation turned critical for a while. Things settled down eventually, but the issue continued to be a problem. At this time in Norway, the driving force for independence was the broader ‘left’ of liberals and social democrats. The conservatives instead wanted negotiations and good mutual relations with Sweden. In Sweden, on the

76 • Fredrik Egefur

other hand, the conservatives wanted to play hardball with Norway and did not consider war impossible, whereas the liberals and social democrats favoured negotiations.32 In 1905, it finally came to a showdown. New negotiations on the consular affair had been ongoing since 1902, but it was becoming obvious that no agreement would be possible. In February 1905, King Oscar II of Sweden announced that diplomacy had failed. In response, the Norwegian Parliament approved a law of its own, which stated that Norwegian consulates should be established. King Oscar II refused to sanction the law. The Norwegian government responded by not counter-­signing the king’s decision, though a signature was necessary to confirm it. The government also filed a resignation application, which the king in turn refused to accept. However, as he failed to reform the government, on 7  June the Norwegian Parliament declared that ‘the Union with Sweden under a king ceased as a result of the king ceasing to act as Norwegian king’. According to the statement, the king had failed to provide the country with a government, something which he was obliged to do under the Norwegian constitution.33 The Swedish military, however, was prepared for this situation. Ever since the prior crisis, ten years before, a full-­scale plan for a military invasion had been readied, and the new conscript army could be ordered to mobilize at short notice. As early as February it became apparent that there were politicians and military officers who wanted to see a military solution. But several other important actors were mobilizing for a peaceful solution. Throughout the winter and spring the situation was tense in both Sweden and Norway. Shortly after Oscar II’s announcement that the negotiations had failed in February, the SAP held a congress. On 17 February, 173 representatives from 65 municipalities gathered in Stockholm. This time they represented a party that had grown from just over 10,000 members ten years earlier to over 63,000. At the same time, the trade union organization (LO) had over 87,000 members in its various unions. The labour movement in Sweden had thus taken a step towards becoming a mass movement whose views the governing bodies could no longer ignore. Since the Second chamber election in 1902 they now also held four seats in Parliament. However, as we have seen, it was at the same time a divided party, with two competing youth associations which in 1905 had as one of their few common denominators a critical stance towards a party leadership that they considered as cowardly and compliant with the bourgeoisie and the military. Crowds of Young Socialists gathered on the spectator stands of the congress to put pressure on the delegates in support of Norway.34 Several invited Norwegian guests spoke at the congress and the Norwegian national anthem was sung.

Swedish Peace Movements  •  77

An important element of the ensuing debate revolved around how much further democracy had developed in Norway than in Sweden, and that this was probably one of the reasons for the hatred of the Swedish nobility and the church. The congress also made a general statement that spoke in favour of Norway: Since the Union issue in both countries has taken such a turn that it dominates the general public debate of both countries’ politics and thereby has displaced social reform work, which is almost everywhere the goal of the aspirations of the working class, and as it continues to provide new nutrition for nationalist and chauvinistic currents in both countries, so for the Congress, which adheres to working class solidarity without regard to land borders, the current situation requires the statement: That the Swedish Social Democratic Workers Party, in line with our entire international basic view on all peoples’ self-­ governing rights, unconditionally recognizes the right of the Norwegian people to freely and without interference, decide in their own affairs.35

This was not exactly well received by Sweden’s government, which was probably one of the aims of the declaration. But the two youth associations were still not happy. After all, both the statement and Branting’s actions during the congress hinted at a defensive approach. Several Swedes, even in the labour movement, considered the Union to be an important part of the defence against Russia. The Young Socialists wouldn’t have any of it, though: their leader, Hinke Bergegren, even made a statement during the SAP congress in which he compared Norway’s fight for independence from Sweden with Finland’s fight for independence from ­Russia – ­being waged at the same t­ime – a­nd clearly considered the Norwegian fight more important.36 In late April, the Young Socialists were ready to hold their own congress, in Gothenburg. Much of the congress was devoted to combating militarism. This issue had by now merged with the Union Crisis and criticism of the military reform of 1901, and therefore appeared within a broader perspective. A common criticism of militarism within both the youth associations and the movement in general was the way in which the military not only planned expeditions abroad but also cracked down on the workers’ struggle domestically: [T]he military clearly shows that it not only intends to avert external development, but firmly to protect the interests of the possessing classes against the internal danger, against ourselves, against the working class, which, with numerous e­ xamples . . . ­serves to crush workers’ organizations in their struggle for a just existence. With such evidence before our eyes, it is our inescapable duty to fight militarism in all its forms with all available.37

78 • Fredrik Egefur

The question of how the anti-­militarist struggle was to be waged was more urgent than ever, the congress concluded. A special committee was also set up to formulate tactics. Statements and proposals were no longer enough; resistance must also be conducted through action, such as military-­service strikes: ‘Understanding the necessity of not only declaring hostility to militarism in all its forms through statements but also that we must fight against it. The Congress urges the clubs to engage in intense agitation for military-­service strikes’.38 The spring would be characterized by numerous meetings and demonstrations on the part of the labour movement. The Young Socialists launched a comprehensive campaign, which lasted all summer, in which leaflets were smuggled into the barracks and distributed among the conscripts. One of these pamphlets, called ‘Conscripts!’, which called for a military-­service strike, later resulted in its author, Albert Jensen, one of the Young Socialists’ leaders, being sentenced to six months in prison.39 In the same hectic spring, the government also presented its proposal for a ban on so-­called ‘strikes dangerous to society’. This angered the labour movement even more, shown not least in the nationwide activities on 1 May, where the demonstrations often dealt with the strike ban proposal and the Union Crisis at the same time. As an example of how far apart the government and the king stood from the movement and its demands, the Norwegian national anthem was sung after speeches in both Stockholm and Gothenburg.40 Branting himself spoke in the city of Gävle. His speech directly linked the strike issue to the Norwegian question. It was the same rulers who oppressed the workers in both Norway and Sweden, he claimed, but the working classes were determined to ultimately assert their rights, albeit through legal means, unlike parts of his own party who were ready to adopt even extraordinary means in the struggle.41 The bourgeois opponents of war also became active during the spring; this was often done in collaboration with the labour movement. It is therefore not possible to see the war resistance as comprising two separate units. An interesting aspect of the analysis of the activities of spring and summer 1905 is what this cooperation looked like. For example, liberal speakers were invited to give speeches on 1 May against the war.42 Yet it is important to note how the bourgeois peace movement, dominated by liberals, had a significantly greater parliamentary branch at this time. The opposition to a war with Norway was thus fought both on the streets and in Parliament. An important factor was the extensive web of contacts that operated between the Swedish and Norwegian peace associations. A Swedish delegation even participated in the Norwegian National Day celebration on 17 May. Characteristic of the radical parts of

Swedish Peace Movements  •  79

the Liberal Party and of the moderate social democratic faction was their attempt to justify the unilateral Norwegian action on the consulate while at the same time preferring to see a continued U ­ nion – i­f possible. A free Norway was, though, in every way considered better than any outbursts of violence. And both the liberals and the social democrats agreed that a common clause on mutual arbitration obligations in future conflicts should be a part of an agreement.43 Another important element of the bourgeois peace movement was the extensive appeal made by 174 Swedish cultural figures that no coercive measures should be taken against Norway. Signatories included leading female voting rights activists, such as Anna Lindhagen and Emilia Broomé, as well as authors, such as Ellen Key and (future Nobel Prize winner) Verner von Heidenstam, and painters, such as Carl Larsson and Rickard Bergh. Radical writer August Strindberg was not among the signatories but instead published a pamphlet on his own demanding a free Norway.44 When Norway formally broke away from the Union, it did so through a unilateral decision by the Norwegian Parliament. It seems that this one-­sided declaration created more resentment in Sweden than the union resolution itself, even though it had been in the air for a good while. The Swedish government immediately distanced itself from this ‘revolutionary measure’, as the newly appointed Swedish prime minister, Johan Ramstedt, put it, and proclaimed that Sweden’s juridical claims had been violated.45 The diplomatic turns during the summer then became intensive. A secret special committee, set up by the Swedish government to prepare the question, rejected Norway’s right to break up the Union on its own, and claimed that such a decision had to be made with the consent of the Swedish king and Parliament. Another Swedish government eventually resigned, and a coalition government under Christian Lundeberg was appointed. Lundeberg was at the same time chairman of the secret committee, as mentioned above. Eventually, regular negotiations between Sweden and Norway began in Karlstad on 31 August. In this situation, both countries began war preparations, and a military solution was not yet officially ruled out. In Sweden, as we have seen, warmongers were at large. But Norway’s actors were also characterized by strong differences of opinion about how resilient they might be in the forced negotiations with Sweden. The prolonged summer crisis and uncertainty about what had happened also meant extensive activities were arranged by the Swedish opponents of war. Demonstrations, speeches and leaflet campaigns were organized throughout the country. With the two social democratic youth associations pressing their mother party and its

80 • Fredrik Egefur

leadership throughout the spring, the party leadership finally adopted a manifesto in support of Norway’s freedom in which the Swedish government, nationalists and capitalists all received harsh criticism, and demonstrations were called for: May the labour battalions rise across the country and show the irresponsible warmongers of the upper class, that the vast majority of the Swedish people demand from their state powers an enlightened and conciliatory policy, in accordance with the rights and freedoms of all peoples in equally binding requirements, and that it under no circumstances will drop their declaration: justice and peace.46

Not unexpectedly, the Young Socialists went even further in their criticism of the government and in support of resistance to a war. In their newspaper Brand they accused the government of being old, and even outright mad: On these days, old gray-­haired and boneless fogeys sit in Helgeandsholmen, sadly known and acknowledged above all Sweden’s country for its dark cultural animosity and blind conservatism, and decide whether hundreds of thousands of young Swedish and Norwegian men, who have never seen each other and have even less against each other, ought to slaughter each other like the wild beasts of the primeval forest, assault each other, with killing bullets, searing bayonet knives, shattering bombs and grenades, wiping each other from the ground, . . . the decision lies in the trembling hands of the old men, in their empty brains and tongues! The life or death of the Swedish youth is decided these days in cabinet by a collection of people about whom we know nothing but that they are very old and very crazy.47

In the same newspaper they s­tated – ­even ­vowed – ­that if the youth were going to aim their weapons anywhere it should not be against the Norwegians.48 Even the party leadership was now attacked, again not entirely unexpectedly, for not criticizing the government in sufficiently sharp terms. Instead, the Young Socialists had published leaflets that they distributed all over the country calling for strike action: With impatience, we waited every day for a slogan from the party b ­ oard – ­but nothing was heard. Finally, [our] patience broke. We considered the situation to be something that needed to be done. If the party did not want to take care of the matter, the ­youth – ­those who were primarily struck by a possible mobilization o­ rder – ­must themselves cast out their rejections, anathema to the quarrelsome [ways] of the war-­mad ‘big Swedes’, and then we throw our call out to the masses across the country.49

Swedish Peace Movements  •  81

Whoever was in the right, that ­summer – a­ nd not least the weeks when regular negotiations between the countries were ­conducted – ­was marked by extensive demonstrations. In one week in June alone, 20,000 people gathered in both Stockholm and Malmö, 12,000 in Gothenburg, 4000 in Helsingborg and Jönköping and so on. In July and August, the Young Socialists intensified their direct calls to conscripts that they should refuse to raise arms against their brothers in Norway.50 Eventually, the two delegations agreed on a final settlement, the so-­ called Karlstad Convention, signed on 23  September. Two points are particularly interesting from the standpoint of the peace movements. First, a general arbitration agreement was signed, with a ten-­year validity period, according to which future disputes between the countries would be referred to the decision of an arbitration tribunal in The Hague. And second, a neutral zone was drawn up between the countries in which no fortifications or military facilities were allowed.51 No blood was shed, but several youth activists were put to trial by the authorities and some went to prison. The following year, however, in the late spring of 1906, new legislation on anti-­militaristic propaganda was adopted. This entailed strong measures against freedom of speech and freedom of the press and has generally been seen as a failed attempt by then prime minister Karl Staaff to appease the conservative faction in Parliament and accomplish his goal to expand the right to vote. A concrete part of the legislation was a tightening of two chapters within the Criminal Code which increased the maximum penalty for public praise of criminal acts, equating it with a probable instigation of crimes and a call for disobedience against the authorities. The legislation came to be regarded as reactionary, and thus was given the name Staafflagarna (laws named after the prime minister). Through the Staafflagarna, Sweden suddenly had one of Europe’s harshest pieces of legislation to criminalize anti-­militaristic propaganda.

Conclusions There are a number of interesting connections to be drawn between the Swedish anti-­militarist and/or pacifist struggle, exemplified here by the actions in connection with the Union Crises of 1895 and 1905 and the various international frameworks for peace struggles that were being prepared at the same time. For liberals in Sweden and Europe, the question of free trade, in accordance with Richard Cobden’s ideas from the mid-­ 1800s, was a central feature. Free trade was seen by liberals as a guarantee of peace: nations that trade with each other will not fight each other.

82 • Fredrik Egefur

Understanding this helps us to understand the Norwegians’ distress at the protectionist position that the Swedish rulers stood for. But Giuseppe Mazzini’s framework, with its absolute demands that independent nation states should act as starting points for any genuine peace, also certainly came into play. The international labour movement had a pronounced negative view of nationalism and instead often emphasized its own internationalist agenda. The Swedish socialists also had an ambivalent view of the patriotism that characterized much of the Norwegian independence struggle, not least from the Norwegian left. The Norwegian Workers’ Party must have realized the contradictions in its agenda and was careful to cooperate with its Swedish sister party in every way, on the basis that neither had disagreements with their class brethren. A common view held by the labour movement was that war was driven by economic gain, and that factors such as honour or religion belonged to history. Two different explanations of the conflict with Norway seem to have coexisted within the labour movement. There was a view that militarism itself would be a driving force as a tool for the capitalists to silence workers. But at the same time, the Young Socialists took an almost individualistic perspective to what they saw as the crazy old men in the government. To them, the generational aspect was clearly an issue at play. After all, they did call themselves the ‘Young’ Socialists. The liberals also adopted a partly individualistic model for explaining conflict, which meant that they were personally able to educate people about the wrongs of warfare; or, as with the appeals made by 174 cultural figures, to set a good example and thus influence o­ pinion – n ­ ot least the government. Both the social democrats and the liberals chose to make grand public statements, which was not so common among liberal peace activists internationally. Overall, the Swedish Union Crisis enabled a collaboration between socialist anti-­militarists and liberal pacifists, which was certainly not typical of European movements. In fact, the labour movement abroad was rarely genuinely interested in cooperating with the liberals. But in Sweden, social democrats participated in liberal pacifist events during the first crisis in 1895 and the second crisis of 1905; and liberal peace activists even spoke at the Labour Day celebration on 1 May. Unlike the liberal international peace o­ rganization – t­he ­IPB – t­he socialists in the SI spent considerable time discussing what could be done in the event of war. Large-­scale public opinion was an important starting point here, and over time, a tactic was refined: explicit resolutions would be made by leading representatives, backed up by newspaper announcements and extensive demonstrations in the streets. When the Swedish SAP’s executive committee finally took a stand in support of Norway’s right to full independence, this was almost exactly what happened.

Swedish Peace Movements  •  83

One shared proposal in the international debate was to threaten a general strike. In Sweden, this issue was raised by both youth associations, but would never be discussed in more detail by the mother party. Instead, the Young Socialists spent a great deal of time trying to influence conscripts to refuse to obey orders in the event of a war, and even threatened them that at the outbreak of war their weapons should be turned on their own officers. This attitude had no substantial place in the reformist labour movement but was instead drawn from embattled French syndicalist and/ or anarchist anti-­militarist circles. However, the flyer campaigns conducted by the Young Socialists were so extensive that it seems likely that their impact was powerful enough for officers’ corps and the government to become worried about what might happen in a crisis situation. What supports this view is the evidence of the kinds of efforts that were made to bring the authors of various different leaflets to court after the crisis was over, and how legislation against anti-­militarist propaganda was greatly strengthened the following year. In view of the actual consequences of the Karlstad Convention, it is clear that the extensive campaign for arbitration driven by the international liberal peace movement over many decades eventually had an impact. Even the SI had adopted this approach by the time of the convention, and it seems to have been a starting point in the negotiations. Few argued against it. The idea of a demilitarized zone was also adopted from the agenda of the radical liberal peace activists. One of the serious issues disputed in the negotiations was whether Norway should be forced to demolish various fortresses on the border with Sweden; a demilitarized zone was the result of the Swedish demands, and this can be seen as the strictly pacifist element of the treaty. Fredrik Egefur has a PhD in history from Lund University. He is also the archives director at the Labour Movement’s Archive in Skåne, Sweden. His dissertation Gränslösa rörelser för fred 1889–1914: Aktörskap, strategi och begreppsvärld hos socialistisk och liberal fredsaktivism (Borderless Movements for Peace 1889–1914: Agency, Strategy and Conceptual World of Socialist and Liberal Peace Activism) was published in 2020 and focuses on international peace movements before the First World War. Egefur has also written several articles on youth movements and peace activists.

84 • Fredrik Egefur

Notes  1. See Christopher Seiberlich’s contribution to this book for further analysis of the international debates and their importance for Swedish development.   2. The following section is based on my thesis: see Fredrik Egefur, Gränslösa rörelser för fred 1889–1914: aktörskap, strategi och begreppsvärld hos socialistisk och liberal fredsaktivism (Lund: Media-tryck, 2020).   3. Arne Jarrick, Den himmelske älskaren: herrnhutisk väckelse, vantro och sekularisering i 1700-talets Sverige (Stockholm: Ordfront, 1987).   4. With publicists like Lars Johan Hierta, Sven Adolf Hedlund and Rudolf Wall.  5. Bert Mårald, Den svenska freds- och neutralitetsrörelsens uppkomst (Stockholm: Norstedt, 1985), 4.   6. The Swedish parliament has since 1867 been divided into two chambers, where the first chamber is indirectly elected and the second chamber directly elected.   7. Meeting minutes: 24/2 1884, 2/4 1883. Svenska freds- och skiljedomsföreningens arkiv, Stockholms stadsarkiv (SFSF:s arkiv).   8. Per-­Anders Fogelström, Kampen för fred – Berättelsen om en okänd folkrörelse (Stockholm: Bonnier, 1971), 34ff.   9. Arnoldsson was also a close friend of Bajer. Eventually they shared the Nobel Peace Prize in 1908. 10. See Victor Lundberg, Folket, yxan och orättvisans rot (Lund: Text & Kultur, 2007). 11. Compare Fredsvännen juli/1885 with Fogelström, Kampen för fred, 50. 12. Meeting minutes 29/7-­1887, 31/3-­1891, 14/7-­1891, 22/1-­1892, 21/5-­1893. SFSF:s arkiv, Stockholms stadsarkiv. 13. Fogelström, Kampen för fred, 43. 14. Meeting minutes 14/5-­1887, 29/8-­1887, 9/12-­1887, 17/12-­1887. SFSF:s arkiv. 15. See for example Fredsvännen, nr 2/1886, nr 10/1887, nr 11/1887, nr 12/1887, nr 13/1887, nr 14/1887, nr 18/1887. 16. Fredsvännen dec 1885, 1. 17. Meeting minutes 3/3-­1895. SFSF:s arkiv. 18. Sten Carlsson and Jerker Rosén, Den svenska historien IX – Industri och folkrörelser (Stockholm: Bonnier, 1968). 19. Meeting minutes 2/3-­1895. SFSF:s arkiv. 20. Meeting minutes 3/3-­1895. SFSF:s arkiv. 21. ‘Protestmöten’. Flygblad utgivet av Centralstyrelsen för Svenska Freds- och Skiljedomsföreningen, 1895. SFSF:s arkiv, Stockholms stadsarkiv. 22. Fogelström, Kampen för fred, 69–70. 23. Waldemar Skarstedt, Nykterhetsrörelsens banerförare (Stockholm: Schedin, 1903), 57. 24. See Görel Granström, Värnpliktsvägran – en rättshistorisk studie av samvetsfrihetens gränser i den rättspolitiska debatten 1898–1925 (Uppsala: Uppsala universitet, 2002), 27–33. 25. See for example leaflets: ‘UPPROP till Svenska folket’ (1893) and ‘Till Sveriges Konung, Regering och Riksdag!’ (1893). Flygblad utgivna av Centralstyrelsen för Svenska freds- och skiljedomsföreningen. SFSF:s arkiv, Stockholms stadsarkiv. 26. For an overview of the Young Socialists, see Hinke Bergegren, Ungsocialismen: historik (Stockholm: Ungsocialistiska partiets förl., 1917); Karl Fernström, Ungsocialismen: en krönika (Stockholm: Federativs förl., 1950); Lennart K. Persson, Syndikalismen i Sverige 1903–1922 (Stockholm: Federativ, 1993); Henrik Berggren, Seklets ungdom: Retorik, politik och modernitet 1900–1939 (Stockholm: Tiden, 1995); Emma Hilborn,

Swedish Peace Movements  •  85

Världar i Brand: Fiktion, romantik och politik i det tidiga 1900-talets ungsocialistiska press (Höör: Agering, 2014). 27. Persson, Syndikalismen i Sverige, 50ff. 28. For an overview of the Young Democrats, see Tage Lindbom, Den socialdemokratiska ungdomsrörelsen i Sverige: en historik (Stockholm: Tiden, 1945). 29. ‘Redogörelse för förhandlingarna mellan Sv. Soc. Ungdomsförbundets Centralkommitté och Socialdem: Ungdomsförbundets Centralstyrelse angående de båda förbundens sammanslagning’, Landskrona 1906. Arbetarrörelsens arkiv i Skåne. 30. Inger Hammar, För freden och rösträtten: Kvinnorna och den svensk-norska unionens sista dagar (Lund: Nordic Academic Press, 2004), 9. 31. Evert Vedung, Unionsdebatten 1905: En jämförelse mellan argumenteringen i Sverige och Norge (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1971), 8. 32. Vedung, Unionsdebatten 1905, 11. 33. Vedung, Unionsdebatten 1905, 27. 34. Kalle Holmqvist, Fred med Norge: Arbetarörelsen och unionsupplösningen 1905 (Stockholm: Murbruk, 2015), 75. 35. ‘Protokoll från 1905 års kongress för Sveriges socialdemokratiska arbetareparti: Arbetarrörelsens arkiv och bibliotek’, https://www.arbark.se/wp-­content/dokument​/ 2015/08/uttalande-­sap-­partikongress-­februari-­1905.pdf (accessed 18 July 2021). 36. Holmqvist, Fred med Norge, 78–79. 37. ‘Motion nr: 2 i motionshäftet inför SUF:s kongress 1905’. Arbetarrörelsens arkiv och bibliotek. 38. Meeting minutes, SUF:s kongress 1905. Paragraf 8, f.m 23/4. Arbetarrörelsens arkiv och bibliotek. 39. SUF ‘Verksamhetsberättelse för åren 1905-­06’. Arbetarrörelsens arkiv och bibliotek. 40. Mårald, Den svenska freds- och neutralitetsrörelsens, 243. 41. Holmqvist, Fred med Norge, 86–87. 42. Mårald, Den svenska freds- och neutralitetsrörelsens uppkomst, 243. 43. Mårald, Den svenska freds- och neutralitetsrörelsens uppkomst, 246–247. 44. Mårald, Den svenska freds- och neutralitetsrörelsens uppkomst, 247–249. For an overview of the extensive network of women who were active on the bourgeois side, see Hammar, För freden och rösträtten. 45. Vedung, Unionsdebatten 1905, 27. 46. ‘Uttalande av SAP:s verkställande utskott 13 juni 1905’. Arbetarrörelsens arkiv och bibliotek. 47. Brand 8, 1905. 48. Brand 8, 1905. 49. Brand 9, 1905. 50. Holmqvist, Fred med Norge, 115. 51. Vedung, Unionsdebatten 1905, 31.

Bibliography Bergegren, Hinke. Ungsocialismen: historik (Stockholm: Ungsocialistiska partiets förl., 1917). Berggren, Henrik. Seklets ungdom: Retorik, politik och modernitet 1900–1939 (Stockholm: Tiden, 1995). Brand 8, 1905.

86 • Fredrik Egefur

Brand 9, 1905. Carlsson, Sten and Jerker Rosén. Den svenska historien IX – Industri och folkrörelser (Stockholm: Bonnier, 1968). Egefur, Fredrik. Gränslösa rörelser för fred 1889–1914: aktörskap, strategi och begreppsvärld hos socialistisk och liberal fredsaktivism (Lund: Media-tryck, 2020). Fernström, Karl. Ungsocialismen: en krönika (Stockholm: Federativs förl., 1950). Fogelström, Per-­Anders. Kampen för fred – Berättelsen om en okänd folkrörelse (Stockholm: Bonnier, 1971). Fredsvännen juli/1885, december/1885, 14/5 1887, 29/8 1887, 9/12 1887, 17/12 1887. Granström, Görel. Värnpliktsvägran – en rättshistorisk studie av samvetsfrihetens gränser i den rättspolitiska debatten 1898–1925 (Uppsala: Uppsala univwersitet, 2002). Hammar, Inger. För freden och rösträtten: Kvinnorna och den svensk-norska unionens sista dagar (Lund: Nordic Academic Press, 2004). Hilborn, Emma. Världar i Brand: Fiktion, romantik och politik i det tidiga 1900-talets ungsocialistiska press (Höör: Agering, 2014). Holmqvist, Kalle. Fred med Norge: Arbetarrörelsen och unionsupplösningen 1905 (Stockholm: Murbruk, 2015). Jarrick, Arne. Den himmelske älskaren: herrnhutisk väckelse, vantro och sekularisering i 1700talets Sverige (Stockholm: Ordfront, 1987). Lindbom, Tage. Den socialdemokratiska ungdomsrörelsen i Sverige: en historik (Stockholm: Tiden, 1945). Lundberg, Victor. Folket, yxan och orättvisans rot (Lund: Text & Kultur, 2007). Mårald, Bert. Den svenska freds- och neutralitetsrörelsens uppkomst (Stockholm: Norstedt, 1985). Persson, Lennart K. Syndikalismen i Sverige 1903–1922 (Stockholm: Federativ, 1993). Skarstedt, Waldemar. Nykterhetsrörelsens banerförare (Stockholm: Schedin, 1903). Vedung, Evert. Unionsdebatten 1905: En jämförelse mellan argumenteringen i Sverige och Norge (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1971).

Chapter 4

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours

Navigating Neutrality, Peace Building and Women’s Issues in the Twentieth Century Anne Hedén

R September 2024 will mark the centenary of the founding of the Swedish Women’s Voluntary Defence Organization, the SLK (Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakårer), inspired by and modelled on the Finnish Lotta Svärd-­movement, though the SLK developed in a different direction to its Finnish counterpart.1 The Swedish organization did not have to engage with a deeply divided society like Finland’s, where the origins of the Lotta Svärd were directly linked to the civil war in 1918 and the mainly class-­ oriented conflicts characterizing this period. The Finnish bourgeois and middle-­class women’s support for the White side in the civil war resulted in a great division between them and the Lotta Svärd women and the women from Red (socialist) families lasting well up to the Second World War. In November 1944, the Finnish Lotta Svärd organization, along with other voluntary military organizations in Finland, was disbanded following the armistice treaty with the Soviet Union. Although the struggle between right and left, conservatives and the workers’ movement, was intense in Sweden, especially in the 1920s, in the 1930s the SLK, in contrast to the Finnish organization, ultimately benefitted from the middle-­ground alliance that was established in 1932 between the Social Democratic Party (SAP) and the Farmers’ Party (Bondeförbundet). This alliance, in turn, paved the way for a more consensual political climate in Sweden, as well as a less conflict-­oriented labour market. According to Swedish historian Fia Sundevall, during the Second World War the SLK probably became the largest ever women’s

88 • Anne Hedén

organization in Sweden. After the German occupation of Denmark and Norway in April 1940, and following the German attack on the Soviet Union in 1941, the influx of new members into the S ­ LK – ­including women from the ­SAP – r­esulted in it eventually counting more than 110,000 members (as compared to approximately 5000 members today).2 The purpose of this chapter is to analyse the ways in which the Swedish Lotta movement, as a non-­state women’s organization, was involved in issues relating to war, neutrality and peace building, the stances it took, and how as a result it contributed to the idea of Swedish neutrality. The secondary purpose is to analyse to what extent, and how, the Swedish Lotta movement’s experiences were defined in its interactions with corresponding associations in other Nordic countries. The main focus is on the period of the large-­scale expansion of the organization during the Second World War, and then on the more intense period of the Cold War in the early 1960s. For this chapter I have examined the available minutes from the meetings and correspondence of the leadership of the SLK. I have also studied the organization’s annual reports, and the literature describing the development of the SLK in general. The SLK records are held at the Military Archives in Stockholm (Krigsarkivet) and are part of the Swedish National Archives. To some extent I have also used press clippings that mention the SLK, and, in one instance, a propaganda film about the organization. The limitations of the material are obvious: the minutes from various meetings and conferences give information about the proceedings at which the central leadership, and at times the local leading ‘Lottas’ (Lotta movement members), met to discuss and organize activities. Although it is possible to get some glimpses of the local activities from these discussions, these insights are fairly limited. The minutes from the local Lotta corps, which might supply more complete information, are only to be found in the regional archives outside of Stockholm, and require a separate study.

Background: The Swedish Women’s Military Auxiliaries In many ways the Swedish Lotta movement was woven together from a complex tangle of connections and ideas. The name ‘Lotta movement’ (Lottarörelsen, as it was generally referred to in the Swedish context) was itself a declaration of allegiance with the Finnish women’s auxiliaries, the Lotta-­Svärd movement, which had been founded in 1920 following the mobilization of bourgeois women and the establishing of networks with similar groups after the Finnish Civil War of 1918, a conflict perceived by the White side as a war of independence from Russia. Lotta Svärd was

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  89

a fictional character in the poetical work The Tales of Ensign Stål (Fänrik Ståls sägner) by the celebrated Finnish poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg, a woman who followed the troops and kept a canteen for the soldiers during the Swedish-­Finnish campaigns against tsarist Russia in the Finnish War of 1808–1809. The book was published in the mid-­nineteenth century, and its main theme is the partitioning of the Swedish-­Finnish realm following the war, after which Finland became part of the Russian Empire as an autonomous Grand Duchy. In Runeberg’s work, the old connection between Sweden and Finland is celebrated, mainly through various narratives of the valour of the Swedish-­speaking Finnish soldiers and their officers. A nostalgia for a common past influenced Swedish-­Finnish relationships to some extent. And though a long Swedish period of peace had started after the Finnish War, when Sweden’s union with Norway was dissolved in 1905, the idea of Sweden reuniting with Finland became important to the Swedish right and to many officers in the Swedish military forces.3 The international confrontations leading up to the First World War accelerated the armament debate in Sweden; the aim of those promoting armament was for Sweden to be able to stand firm in the expected conflict between the new military great power, Germany, and the old Swedish enemy, Russia. After the First World War there was considerable resentment in military circles about the discussions to cut in the armed forces. The debate on armament in 1924, and the parliamentary decision to cut defence spending in 1925, also became mobilizing issues for the right in their attempts to curb the advances of the workers’ movement. The SLK participated as early as the initial debate in 1924 in a strong right-­wing movement against the disarmament and reorganization of the Swedish military.4 The bourgeois women’s networks that had grown since the Finnish War were closely connected to the military circles in Stockholm, where the Swedish Lotta organization was founded in 1924, mainly by officers’ wives. The Lottas cooked and helped out at various functions where Land­ ­ stormen  – t­he organization that preceded the Swedish Home ­Guard  – w ­ ere trained in military skills. During the interwar period the SLK was often criticized for being an organization restricted to upper-­ middle-­ class and upper-­ class women. SLK responded to these (not unfounded) a­ llegations – ­which mostly came from the labour movement ­press – w ­ ith indignation.5 Despite the complaints, during the 1930s the SLK membership grew, partly due to the increasing threat of war and rearmament across Europe. The great expansion of the SLK occurred during the years of the Second World War (in Swedish Beredskapsåren – the emergency years), when the Swedish government broadened the

90 • Anne Hedén

so-­called neutrality watch: that is, it increased the resources and funding of the Swedish armed forces and improved civilian defence planning. In the militarized world of the time, Lotta women worked in offices, as drivers, as telephone operators, in liaison centres, in communication services and in aircraft reconnaissance. The SLK also organized canteens for military field exercises, and there were training courses for the Lottas in how to cook for military units and care for the wounded. Another area of voluntary work during the last stages of the world war and its aftermath was collecting money and clothes for refugees and caring for them, mainly children from war-­torn Finland. All in all, the SLK took care of 53,000 Finnish children refugees as they arrived at the border and brought them to their temporary foster families in different parts of Sweden. The SLK also took part in the exchange of war refugees and the provision of humanitarian relief work in various projects in post-­war Europe.6 By the end of the war and in the late 1940s and 1950s it was the humanitarian and peace-­building aspects of the Lotta movement which became more prominent. This was in part a pragmatic adaptation to the new circumstances, albeit in a context where a strong defence was still seen as the best way to guarantee peace.7 Despite its changing role, in the 1970s the SLK still had something like 40,000 ­members – ­the numbers fluctuating as the Cold War heated up or cooled down. In the 1980s, however, the organization met with increasing competition when the armed forces gradually opened up to allow women into its ranks.

The Women’s Movement and the Women Defence Organizations – Earlier Research The Swedish historian of ideas, Ulla Manns, has pointed out that the mother-­of-­humanity-­concept, as defined by Ellen Key in the early part of the twentieth century, was central in women gaining access to the public sphere.8 Swedish historian Charlotte Tornbjer traces an earlier notion of societal motherhood in the Swedish context back to the temperance movement (Vita bandet) at the turn of the last century, when it was defined as a uniquely Swedish ­trait – a­ consequence of Swedish women’s special strength and freedom. This was an idea that had also been connected to the idea of Swedish racial superiority, in which Swedish women were seen as pivotal for the survival of the Swedish race.9 On the eve of the First World War, women’s mission was, according to the defence-­ oriented women’s organizations, to raise their sons to become brave men. The idea of female conscription was also promoted. However, this did not mean that women were supposed to take part in armed combat, rather

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  91

that women should attend some sort of obligatory nursing course in order to help out in case of war. Both the defence-­oriented women’s organizations and the more pacifist women’s associations actually shared the idea that women, because of their gift of motherhood, were more peaceful than men. Tornbjer’s point is that even when women acted forcefully in support of the armed forces at the t­ime – t­he early twentieth c­ entury – ­they did so in their capacity not as individuals but as supportive mothers, daughters or wives.10 From this perspective, the Lotta organization can be viewed as the result of a logical measure to protect the nation’s children. But the Lotta corps members were also involved in a sphere that many women’s organizations had developed during the interwar period in Sweden, and which formed a sort of a parallel gender-­based public space.11 Women who were active in these organizations were often members of more than one association: many Lottas were, for example, members of both the SLK and the Red Cross. In this arena, the notion of women in general acting as a community of mothers, or matrons, was important; it was based on the idea of equality between women and men, but with different, yet complementary, missions in society.12 Swedish historian Kjell Östberg has also pointed out that during the interwar period, the activities of the women’s organizations were closely interwoven with the emerging welfare state (and implicitly the idea of the Peoples Home): professionalized home help, housewives’ vacations, maternity clinics, welfare and so on.13 The connection between the idea of social motherhood and women gaining influence in society is further stressed by Tornbjer, who points out that the idea of women acting as collective mothers of humanity, or matrons of society, could be interpreted in various other pragmatic ways, suited to the needs of the moment. This became apparent in the late 1930s, when Swedish women’s organizations, including the women’s associations of the political parties, when faced with the anxieties of the time, gathered to collectively evaluate what could be done in terms of defence measures. Here, Tornbjer notes, it was obvious that it was the more practical, matronly and housewifely aspects of women as mothers of the nation that came to the fore.14 Another Swedish historian, Lena Eskilsson, has written about another important aspect of the Swedish women’s organizations: the idea of female friendship transcending class barriers and other obstacles that otherwise divided women who came from different echelons in society. In the historiography of the SLK, the ideology of friendship was essential, and it was regarded by the leadership as a way to transcend the class differences among the Lottas: ‘The holy flame of fellowship’, as one leading Lotta described it.15

92 • Anne Hedén

For example, Swedish historian Madelene Lidestad has in her research pointed out that when the Swedish women auxiliaries were integrated into the military structure, in the final years of the First World War and during the interwar period, they were almost always segregated.16 After the Second World War, significant changes took place when it came to the situation for NGOs in general, changes which also affected the SLK. They were still integrated-­but-­segregated, as Lidestad puts it, but the increasing number of international contacts, and the growth in importance of the United Nations as an agent for peace keeping, development, aid work and what was labelled ‘public diplomacy’ in the West, changed the prospects for the SLK and similar organizations.17 The literature regarding the women’s organizations in the international arena shows the gulf in attitude between the interwar and the post-­war periods. As has also been noted by Australian historian Glenda Sluga, internationalism is easily overlooked in the history of women’s organizations in general. Her point is that women’s liberal and feminist internationalism was a widespread phenomenon in the early twentieth century. Her primary example is the women’s peace movement during the First World War, but throughout this period there were various national associations advocating the establishment of the League of Nations and the institution of an overall international government to solve the issue of war and conflict. One of the prominent women in these campaigns was the Swedish feminist author Ellen Key, who successfully, according to Sluga, combined the demand for an international government with patriotic nationalism, maternalism and equal rights. Sluga also argues that ideas about a new world order and an international government had already begun to have some influence in the early 1940s, not least on women’s movements and organizations. The Cold War began to definitively recast gender relations, North and South relations, and the intertangled connections between internationalism, imperialism and nationalism.18 Conditions changed, as did the opportunity for women’s organizations and movements to gain influence. At the same time, the concept of peace in general went through some changes and became more connected to themes of emancipation, not merely as the result of decisions made by governments and armies. War was now also defined as a continuum in a process of ongoing militarization, instead of war and peace being seen as decisions made by governments.19 British historian Helen Laville has pointed out that the US concept of public diplomacy became an increasingly important device in US foreign policy throughout the Cold War, used to highlight the difference between the opportunities of the free world, where people and organizations could move freely and make contacts openly, and the politically controlled and

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  93

state-­organized administrations in the Soviet Union and its satellites.20 American women’s organizations, for example, regarded it as their mission to educate women in countries like Japan and Germany, which had recently endured dictatorship.21 At the same time, the Swedish neutrality policy became increasingly connected to other neutral countries’ new position in the Cold War as part of a democratic and emancipated world. This also affected organizations like the SLK.

The Lotta Movement in the Second World War Period – Expansion and Tensions As mentioned above, the expansion of the SLK came after the German invasion of Denmark and Norway and the German attack on the Soviet Union. In 1943, the Lotta corps separated from its former principal organization, the Landstormen (in turn reorganized into the H ­ emvärnet – ­the Home Guard), which had been traditionally more closely connected to the right-­wing armament mobilization in the 1920s. This meant that the Lotta organization became more integrated with the national defence system. During the war years the organization had also developed into a formidable fundraising machine, in total accruing over 6,000,000 Swedish crowns to contribute to the general costs of the military.22 However, the process of expansion created new problems, as is shown in the reports from the movement’s travel secretary, Gerda Fröberg, who visited a number of local Lotta groups during the most expansive period of the organization in order to take stock of the new situation. In her accounts to the executive committee, for example, she noted that in some places women from the landed gentry and the upper middle class, as well as officers’ w ­ ives – w ­ ho throughout the 1930s made up the undisputed leadership of the local Lotta c­orps – ­sometimes did run into problems once women from the social democrats joined. Fröberg presented a narrative where the issue of class seemed to be ever-­present in the social gatherings of the Lotta movement, and where women from the lower ranks of society were now challenging the bourgeois members’ notion of the Lotta movement as a class-­less organization. In the small community of Turinge, in the county of Södermanland, for example, she noted, as if with a sigh, that there were ‘mostly, only workers’ wives’. In Hovmanstorp in Småland she observed that the Lotta group was ‘difficult to handle’, and that the Social Democrats were a nuisance: ‘The Chairwoman, Mrs. Vogl is not authoritarian enough to stand up to Mrs. Hummel [the Social Democrat], who is a tyrant [in Swedish: despot]’. In the Vifolka district in Östergötland there were only ‘rural people’. On the other hand, Fröberg

94 • Anne Hedén

wrote approvingly of a woman from the ‘sturdy peasant aristocracy’ who led a local branch in the county of Jämtland in northern Sweden. Yet she was more disapproving of the Lotta corps in Eslöv, a little town in southern Sweden, where there had been a ‘revolution’, presumably by social democratic women. She wrote of yet another Lotta corps in Åtvidaberg, where a young aristocratic chairwoman from the local manor house had run into problems when the social democratic women from the nearby town had formed a competing Lotta group aiding the Home Guard in the town, thus challenging her position. Fröberg wrote: ‘Contentious chairwoman in this Lotta section and the baroness Adelswärd, chairman of the Lotta Corps is too young to put up an effective resistance’. There was obviously also some friction that was not class related but which still tested the female friendship ideology that was part of the Lotta outlook. Fröberg sometimes commented freely on the characters of the leading local Lottas. Mrs von Ekensteen, she thought, ‘is very nice but not too forceful’; the chairwoman Lotta in Landskrona in southern Sweden seemed a little bit dumb; in Ystad the chairwoman was perhaps not mature enough to take on the responsibility of leadership; in Karlskrona, Sweden’s major naval base, the chairwoman Lotta was much loved, but had a lot of ­troubles – ­not specified in the ­report – ­to deal with. In Ånge, Medelpad, in northern Sweden, the chairwoman Lotta was very energetic, but tended to get into minor conflicts, and so on.23 These characteristics also, of course, tell us how the leadership skills were defined in the organization: a leading Lotta should be nice, but smart and efficient, not have any discernable personal issues, and must avoid getting bogged down in minor conflicts in the group. There seems to have been a consensus in the organization that neither class conflict nor problems with people not getting along should be obstacles to the activities of the SLK. The ideology of friendship as well as the notion of Lottas as matrons in society remained dominant. The main challenges to the SLK really arrived with the forthcoming peace.

The Lotta Movement and Peacetime – Building Society, Preventing a New War By the end of the war, the SLK leadership was busy adapting to the new circumstances, discussing how to continue the Lotta activities in peacetime and assessing the amount of humanitarian work that would be involved.24 The general impression of the development of the SLK throughout the end of the war period is of a growing conflict between its two missions: to support the military and to act as matrons of society in

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  95

various humanitarian p ­ rojects – a­ discussion that had started already in 1943 and 1944.25 A memorandum from the subcommittee for humanitarian work, a part of a wider investigation of the SLK into the Lotta organization’s peacetime work, was presented to the executive committee in September 1945, and it included a whole range of activities. The main suggestions from the subcommittee were that the Lottas could lead study groups, help out at libraries in military hospitals, and work as matrons in various camps for guest workers and at youth summer camps and summer colonies for children. It was also suggested that they should undertake humanitarian assignments when asked by government authorities, or by NGOs such as the Red Cross or Save the Children (Rädda barnen). One proposal was that the Lottas could assist social workers in the refugee camps. Another proposal was that they might sew blankets for children in need in war-­ damaged Europe. Another idea noted in the memorandum was that the Lottas could organize nurseries in order to alleviate the terrible conditions for young mothers, and even do ­babysitting – ­though it was pointed out that it was equally important that their contributions in these cases should not reduce the wages for women in the regular workforce.26 In several ways the subcommittee was merely reinforcing what was actually already going on within the organization. A letter from the SLK press secretary to the conservative daily newspaper Svenska Dagbladet in March 1945 stressed the social-­humanitarian role of the Lotta organization in post-­ war work as being just as important as its support of the armed forces in times of war and conflict.27 An enthusiastic feature written about the Lotta youth organization in the Christian weekly Svenska Journalen in late 1945 illustrates the development of the Lotta movement in the aftermath of the war. Beyond the regular curriculum in the youth Lotta c­amp – ­including topics such as orienteering, local geography and history, elementary health care and first ­aid – ­the Young Lottas could now also join more demanding healthcare and childcare classes that would enable them to work as ­salaried – a­ nd ­uniformed – ­home helps. This was not only in order to help families in need, the head of the Young Lottas, Anna Sparre, told the reporter, but would also count as work-­related merit when the young women applied for higher education. Sparre also emphasized that the task of the Lottas was not only military: ‘We want to give our girls a general human education, making them good women and members of society’.28 It is not clear to what extent the Lotta corps actually engaged in nursery work, as suggested in the article. But the Lotta corps in the municipality of Avesta-­Krylbo deemed it necessary to organize childcare for the Lottas when on assignment. Otherwise it was difficult to keep up the

96 • Anne Hedén

level of activity in the organization. A leading Lotta in the Avesta-­Krylbo Lotta corps underlined, however, that this was not the same as taking a stand for general childcare, but a pragmatic solution to keep the operation going.29 Meanwhile, the SLK raised money for a string of humanitarian projects, such as the Red Cross, and later on conducted various fundraising campaigns to alleviate poor conditions in post-­war Europe.30 A nationwide campaign to gather discarded clothes was arranged to take place in October 1945, and the SLK was asked through the Red Cross to participate in a campaign to help Poland.31 The diverse opinions among the organization’s leadership regarding the priorities of the humanitarian work and the prospects for the organization were further discussed at the so-­called consultation (rådplägning) conference with the local leaders of the SLK in February 1946. The consultation meeting drew together a number of women from the different Lotta corps around S ­ weden – t­he profile of the meeting was that of local leadership meeting the executive committee and discussing the future of the organization. Guest speakers were also invited to address certain issues.32 A letter to the executive committee before the consultation meeting gives the impression that local Lotta groups were by now sandwiched between their own central leadership and the expectations of their former collaboration partners, usually the Red Cross, which were making demands on the Lottas’ skills in fundraising for various humanitarian ends. The viewpoint they expressed was all about how they could not really turn away from the expectations of their fellow non-­profit organizations locally, as in doing so they would appear non-­humanitarian and thus risk being regarded as obsolete in their own communities.33 At the consultation meeting, the first speaker, an officer named Captain Dimander, representing the army and civil defence, declared that the voluntary defence organizations had played an important part in the allied ­victory – n ­ ot least the Soviet women auxiliaries who had shouldered the burden on the home front, making it possible to send the men to the front lines. In comparison, he noted that the German armed forces had been too slow to engage women in the war effort, which in his opinion had influenced the outcome of the war. A new war was coming sooner or later, according to Captain Dimander, and this meant that a small country like Sweden had to maintain a high level of armed r­ eadiness – ­as well as a disciplined and well-­trained women’s auxiliary corps prepared to take over the responsibilities on the home front in case of war. If you want peace, you have to be prepared for war, was his conclusion. But this, in his opinion, should not exclude the Lottas from humanitarian work. Rather, this made the Lottas ideally suited to agitate for peace, as a way to strengthen ‘the inner front’.

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  97

Another speaker, on the topic of Sweden’s participation in the humanitarian work in Europe, stressed the destruction of all the major occupied cities by the Germans in the final days of the war. Secretary H. Beer (not specified from which organization) described in detail the problems in Warsaw, where water pipes, electricity and gas lines had been deliberately destroyed, making the city, still with a population of half a million people, destitute, with infected water, no light and no access to heating. His concluding point was similar to the one Helen Laville and Hugh Wilford make about the role of American public ­diplomacy – ­popular opinion is expressed through popular ­organizations – ­and in this aspect, he thought, Sweden should set an example by helping to alleviate the difficult situation in Europe.34 The identity of the Lotta movements as caretakers of society was evidently, according to the guest speakers at the consultation meeting, easily connected to the notion of Sweden as a caretaker of peace and prosperity in the international arena. However, among the Lotta leadership there were some doubts. In the following discussion, Mrs Hårleman, member of the steering board, claimed that the Lotta profile would vanish if they engaged too much in humanitarian work. Mrs Bruun objected that this work could prove difficult in smaller places. Instead, she suggested that the local Lotta corps should charge a percentage of the collected funds when they were helping other organizations with their fundraising. The representative from Delary noted a general war weariness in society, which made it difficult for the Lottas to collect money for the armed forces. Mrs Toss from Motala pointed out that it was expected by the other organizations that the Lottas would contribute. The representative from the town of Finspång explained how the local Lottas had established a social fund, thereby facilitating the purchase of a small organ for the local rest home for the elderly. The issue of class was discussed in more detail by a few participants. A Lotta from Ronneby, Mrs Backman, argued that people who were of lower social rank actually could sometimes feel snubbed in the Lotta context: ‘If one asks one’s charlady what she thinks of the Lottas she would answer that they are a bunch of society ladies. Common people are actually often snubbed. When it comes to these girls from a humble background one has to have great empathy with them when they join the Lotta movement’.35 Mrs Ekman argued, on the other hand, that the Lotta reputation for being toffs was all w ­ rong – a­ nd that most SLK members only had elementary schooling, something that made it difficult to recruit Lottas for work in post-­war Germany, for example. Yet another opinion on the issue of class came from Mrs G. O ­ lsson – s­he agreed with another speaker who had earlier discussed rivalry and ­class-­oriented bias, but she was firm in the belief that this was an obstacle that could be overcome if they really

98 • Anne Hedén

tried to work together. In her little town of Husum, in the county of Ångermanland, such conflicts had been avoided when the Lottas made active efforts to contact the local social democrat women’s group on the issue of the Finnish refugee children. Her point was that this sort of unity in humanitarian work was actually helpful in building patriotic inner strength and a strong defence. On a pragmatic level, the majority at the consultation meeting seem to have agreed that the social work in the countryside and in smaller towns must be an essential part of the SLK’s profile. At the end of the debate there was a concluding comment made by a leading Lotta that the SLK groups in smaller communities simply could not afford to turn their back on the humanitarian organizations in order to cater only to the military’s needs and demands.36 In September 1946, it was reported by the social section to the executive committee that 500 Lottas had been working in hospitals and 50 as matrons in the sugar beet harvest camps, and that the SLK had helped out throughout the year not only in a children’s hospital in Poland and a children’s canteen in Germany but also in transporting French, Belgian and Dutch refugee children back to their home countries, as well as escorting Finnish children back home after their stay in Sweden.37 In November 1946, the aid agency Swedish Aid for Europe (Svenska Europahjälpen) asked for the Lottas’ help in intensifying collections of clothes for Europe.38 Swedish Aid for Europe was an aid agency for non-­governmental initiatives set up in Europe after the end of the Second World War. During the period 1946–1950 around 130 million Swedish crowns were collected by organizations working with Swedish Aid for Europe, and the funds were used for running canteens and distributing clothes, food and medical aid to combat tuberculosis, which was spreading in post-­war Europe.39 In February 1947, the social section reported that the Lottas had collected 41 tons of candle stumps and made 50,000 new candles to be distributed to Germany, Poland, Austria and Romania.40 The Lottas were also recruited as temporary health care staff in hospitals.41 Some spot checking in the yearly local reports, in which the Lotta groups listed their activities in pre-­printed forms, indicates that there was also a noticeable change locally by the end of the Second World War and during the transition period to peace time, when the hours of humanitarian and also social work seem to have increased. This increase was largely due to the local SLK corps engaging in such tasks as helping out in the aforementioned return transports of the Finnish refugee children and with the regular refugee transports and prisoner of war exchanges. The local Lotta branches were also working to gather clothes, and by sewing and knitting for the Swedish Aid for Europe. Also, aid organizations such as Aid for Norway (Norgehjälpen), Save the Children and ‘other

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  99

help committees’, as well as the Red Cross, were supported in various ways. The humanitarian work also included the gathering and sending of fruits to northern Sweden and, later in the year, Christmas gifts. In some places the humanitarian and social work were obviously intertwined, as the Lottas were often involved to some extent in homecare for the elderly, which was sometimes labelled as humanitarian work and sometimes as voluntary social work.42

International Contacts and Relations with Women’s Auxiliaries in Other Countries From the start, the SLK had many contacts with the Lotta-­Svärd movement in Finland, including sending a delegation to the event in 1941 when the Finnish Lottas celebrated their twentieth anniversary. The annual reports also detail a visit from the Hungarian women’s organization, Egyesült Nöi Tabor, and a study trip to Finland undertaken in the gap between the Winter War (1939–1940) and the Continuation War (1941–1944). The SLK also had a visit from the Danish womens’ military auxiliaries, the Danish Womens Emergency organization (De danske kvinders beredskab), which, in spite of the occupation, continued with some of its activities.43 Cooperation with the Finnish Lottas is described as ‘lively’. The Finnish Lottas were, for example, cared for in Swedish hospitals.44 The close contacts and networking with the Finnish Lotta-­Svärd organization included collaborating on a special issue in 1943 of a magazine, Den Svenska Lottan (‘the ‘Swedish Lotta’), and from time to time inviting the chairwoman, Fanni Luukkonen, and some other leading Finnish Lotta-­Svärd members, to Sweden for rest periods. The SLK also donated a modern recreational cottage to the members of the Lotta-­Svärd organization and arranged and paid for an exchange of official portraits of the respective Lotta leaders, Fanni Luukkonen in Finland and Maja Schmidt in Sweden.45 These were painted by the same artist, Eric Vasström, who had designed the Finnish Lotta emblem in 1921, a swastika framed by flowers.46 In 1943, Fanni Luukkonen visited a Finnish exhibition in Berlin and received, from Hitler in person, the order of the German Eagle with Star.47 Presumably this did not appear to the SLK leadership as a violation of Swedish neutrality, as they obviously regarded the Finnish Lottas as role models. The Swedish Lottas, in their leadership capacity during the Second World War, ­were – ­their rhetoric about being a classless organization n ­ otwithstanding – ­often from upper-­class families and families with military traditions. The old networks connecting the mainly Swedish-­speaking Finnish bourgeoisie

100 • Anne Hedén

and the Swedish military and right-­wing elite circles were still intact, although many from the Swedish upper-­middle class had distanced themselves from the increasing Fennoman (advocates of the Finnish language and culture) influences among the Finnish elite during and after the civil war. Still, the Swedish Lottas maintained continuous contact with the remainder of the Finnish Lotta-­Svärd organization even after it had been disbanded. Even years later, a group of Swedish Lottas visiting Finland asked beforehand if they could wear their Lotta uniforms during the visit, but they were refused, as the central board of the SLK deemed it not appropriate ‘for several reasons’.48 My interpretation of this denial is that this was all about not making any sort of demonstrative grand gesture that could be interpreted as a way of criticizing the disbanding of the Finnish ­Lottas – a­ n act that might have caused trouble for Finland in relation to the Soviet Union. But, in general, there was a shift in the Swedish organization’s outlook after the Second World War. The annual reports show that the SLK established contacts and kept up a continual exchange of visits with their counterparts in Great Britain, the Netherlands, Switzerland and Austria, but above all with their fellow organizations in Norway and Denmark.49 The process was not without its hiccups. In 1943, the Swedish military attaché in London tried to organize a visit of the Swedish Lottas to ­England – w ­ hich was postponed, to the disappointment of the Swedes.50 A plausible explanation for this is that the Swedish position of neutrality and that of Swedish organizations as a whole was, at the time, regarded as too German-­friendly, and that Sweden was, above all, considered as non-­belligerent rather than neutral. However, a group from the Executive Committee was by autumn 1945 invited to visit the women’s auxiliary organizations in Britain.51 In 1946, a group of young Lottas were invited to visit a women’s auxiliary camp in England.52 Then another English invitation soon arrived for a conference of young women’s auxiliaries.53 The end of the Second World War and the first post-­war period led to a peace building and humanitarian orientation for the SLK. This was in part a matter of pragmatism due to the refugee situation in post-­war Europe and, to some extent, a continuation of its war time efforts. But the emphasis on humanitarian issues as being just as important as support for the military can also be connected to the new political situation, as has been delineated by Laville and Wilford and Glenda Sluga, who argue that internationalism and public diplomacy in the free world during the Cold War was connected to the new political situation in which, as we have seen, the internationalism and public diplomacy of the West were contrasted with the state control of the communist East.

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  101

This orientation seems, however, not to have been the SLK’s primary concern when meeting with the other women’s auxiliary organizations in the Nordic context; nor did the women auxiliaries during these meetings and conferences with women from neighbouring countries discuss general policies. The networking activities between these women’s auxiliary organizations were more about sharing information and planning various forms of exchange.54 This can, in my opinion, in turn be explained by the fact that Sweden remained in the neutral camp, while Denmark and Norway in due time joined NATO. An exception was the visit in 1946 to the Danish Womens Emergency organization (De danske kvinders beredskab) mentioned earlier, when the Swedish delegation was welcomed with a speech about women’s general responsibility to share the message of peace in the community and teach the younger generation and children about basic humanity. This speech, which was delivered by the head of the Danish organization, was greatly complimented in the Swedish reports as being especially enlightened and forward-­looking.55 While the Lottas were continuously represented in various military cooperation committees, their presence among civilian cooperative organizations connected to the international arena became more noticeable after the war. The SLK sent representatives to and worked with the Swedish branch of the International Council of Women (Svenska Kvinnors N ­ ationalförbund – a­n organization for international women’s cooperation, intended to improve women’s conditions, with consultative status in the League of Nations and later in the UN), the Committee in Aid of the Children of Finland (Hjälpkommittén för Finlands barn), along with organizations such as Save the Children, the Women’s Committee for Spanish and French Children (Kvinnokommitten för spanska och franska barn), the Salvation Army and others.56 In 1946, they also joined the Womens’s Organization’s Cooperation Committee for Temperance (Kvinnoorganizationernas samarbetskommité för nykterhet).57 Also in 1946, they applied for membership of the Women’s Organization’s Committee for People-­to-­People Issues (Kvinnoorganizationernas utskott för mellanfolkliga frågor).58 Any left-­leaning initiatives were ­avoided – ­the SLK, for example, did not respond to an official invitation to send a representative to the ‘IIIrd World Festival of Youth and Students for Peace’ in East Berlin in 1951.59 Nor did they sign the appeal from the Swedish section of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (Internationella kvinnoförbundet för fred och frihet), with the somewhat opaque justification that the League had not yet shown the SLK its bylaws.60 This position was echoed in the response to a letter, also from the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, asking the SLK

102 • Anne Hedén

to sign a petition on behalf of Raoul Wallenberg. The letter was discussed, a decision postponed, and then the request d ­ enied – a­ gain on the grounds that the Peace and Freedom League did not want to come forward with its bylaws.61 My understanding of this not very clear issue is that an important point of the League for Peace and Freedom’s programme was, besides a strong anti-­militarism, a demand for mutual global disarmament, and that this did not sit well with the Lotta executive committee, as in general they were in favour of a strong Swedish defence so that Sweden would not be easy prey for the great powers (or, more specifically, the Soviet Union). Also, some women who had joined the Lottas during the war years now wanted to return to their earlier involvement with the Swedish section of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom. This was not encouraged by the leadership of the SLK.62 When asked once more by the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom to cooperate on peace issues, this time to support an international peace campaign planned for 1948, the SLK executive committee decided not to sign the resolution, with the revised justification that they did not agree on some of the content. They also decided that the local Lotta corps, which were likely to be approached by the local peace committees, should be informed about this decision.63 To my mind this indicates that there was rivalry among the women’s organizations concerning peace issues and peace work.

The Lottas in the 1960s and the Modernization of Society It is noticeable that there was increasing discontent among the Lottas concerning the low remuneration for any assignments they undertook in the armed forces that entailed some sort of pay. In a letter from the general staff in August 1945, the Lotta organization’s work in peace time in the military was discussed in detail. The letter set out the remuneration they were supposed to receive (for a whole day of seven hours or more, nine Swedish crowns), and one gets the impression that the eagerness to clarify matters was in part due to some earlier demands and debates over pay and wages. The letter also stated that in cases where no pay was given, it should be specified what kinds of transport costs and so on the Lottas were to be reimbursed for.64 Thus, when the equality debate in Swedish society took off in the mid-­1960s this also affected the Lotta movement. The Swedish military historian Lars Ericson has shown that the dominant groups in the Lotta organization were office clerks and housewives, although it is difficult to judge whether these housewives had part-­time jobs outside the home or

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  103

not. What is obvious is that the SLK had more trouble recruiting members when Swedish women joined the workforce in increasing numbers in the 1960s (even though at the same time they had actually contributed to this development). Even so, by the early 1970s they had attracted between 65,000 and 70,000 members.65 In comparison to the immediate post-­war period, the SLK in the 1960s seems to have been more oriented towards gender equality issues, mainly through the education of the Lotta f­orce – w ­ hich also became an important tool in the organization’s recruiting propaganda. In order to have a strong military defence, and in this way to guard Swedish neutrality and democracy, the argument was that it was necessary to include ­women – ­that is, the Lottas. One of the main slogans in the propaganda of the early 1960s was ‘loyalty, cooperation, friendship’.66 Joining the Lotta corps, the SLK argument went, meant not only that you supported Sweden as a free and independent nation but also that you gained a personal advantage in the labour market by receiving good training in various skills. This did not exclude the earlier, complementary thinking whereby women, in the role of mothers of mankind or mothers of society, gained some license to enter the public sphere. An example of how new and old ideas about womanhood were interlaced in the Lotta context is demonstrated in the SLK propaganda film Petter, over (Petter kom) from 1962, in which the Lotta organization presented itself as brimming with strong-­willed women who at some point have to come together in order to strengthen the country. None of the people involved seem, at the beginning of the film, to be too concerned about the fate of the nation: not the widowed and embittered crofter who lets the Lottas use his cottage during a military exercise, nor his oppressed daughter, nor the elegant society Lotta with her expensive car and troubled marriage, slipping off in the middle of the night during her scheduled hours of aerial reconnaissance. The focus of this short feature film turns to the dutiful Lotta, presented as a farmer’s wife in civilian life, and her struggle to keep the little group together by acting like a good mother, watching over her brood. This is, for example, shown in the scene where the farmer’s-­wife Lotta is covering for her absentee colleague in the watch ­tower – ­only to be scolded by the visiting officer in the morning for still wearing her nightie under her uniform. Meanwhile, a young, street-­smart, suburban Lotta, played by Lena Nyman, a well-­known and popular Swedish actress who often epitomized women from the lower classes in 1960s Swedish movies, does her best to find inventive solutions to various practical problems. Following the ensuing discussions and sparring that go on in the film, each and every one is finally convinced of the importance of their tasks in defending their home country, and also the vital part women have

104 • Anne Hedén

in building ­it – ­even the embittered crofter, who is in the end won over by the farmer’s-­wife Lotta.67

From Militarism to Peace Building in the Cold War From the start, the SLK was founded as part of a conservative, militaristic mobilization effort to counter the disarmament of the Swedish army in the 1920s. In the post-­war period, the SLK found itself in an almost completely different context, where peace building, humanitarian work and the rebuilding of Europe were key tasks even within the framework of the military. The women auxiliaries played an active part in this ­change – ­partly because the whole idea of war and peace, and of what peace should entail, had been transformed in the international context. The key element of the SLK’s success in establishing itself as a force to be reckoned with was the enormous need for volunteers, for extra hands in society in general during the war years.68 However, the SLK did not have to deal with a divided society, unlike its parallel organization in Finland, where the origins of the Lotta-­Svärd organization were directly linked to the civil war in 1918 and the bourgeois and middle-­class women’s support for the White side. This meant that the SLK, like many other organizations in Sweden at the time, including the various women’s associations, could develop a profile where cooperation across class boundaries was regarded as a realistic ­possibility – e­ven if there are indications in the archive material pointing towards some class conflicts. Moreover, as Sweden was not invaded during the Second World War, there was no period of working underground or having to deal with the disruptive consequences of occupation, as in Norway and Denmark. Obviously, Swedish neutrality made it easier for the Swedish women’s auxiliaries in the post-­war period to establish themselves as peace builders in a troubled world, in much the same way as Sweden was perceived as a caretaker of peace and prosperity in the international arena. As mentioned earlier, the SLK also established the narrative that the Lottas were in fact one of the so-­called people’s movements in S ­ weden – a­ way of securing its credibility in Swedish society throughout most of the twentieth century, a status that the Lotta movement used quite efficiently. Even if it did not actively connect this argument to the People’s Home ideology, the idea of the Lotta corps as a people’s movement was to some extent actually realized, in particular when the women of the Social Democrats joined the Lotta ranks during the Second World War.69 The growth of the SLK in this period actually led to women from different social classes in society collaborating on various tasks, which

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  105

contributed to the loosening of the strict rules and hierarchy of the old society. This did not at all mean that there were no class-­based conflicts in the organization. But the Swedish Lottas managed to hold on to an inclusive approach towards women from the working class and, in the countryside, from families of smallholders, whereas the Lotta-­Svärd organization in Finland, for example, took a more ambivalent approach in these matters.70 With the SLK doing vast amounts of humanitarian work by the end of and then after the war, it seems to have been regarded as one of several women’s organizations that was supposed to build the peace. Yet the general impression of the correspondence it conducted with the other Nordic women’s auxiliary movements is that these organizations were far more geared towards military issues. Earlier studies also indicate that in the strictly Swedish context the SLK was gradually influenced by the other women’s organizations that developed throughout the interwar period, for example when it came to issues of peace.71 While the Lottas actively pursued a role as matrons of society (or as Ellen Key’s ‘mothers of humanity’), and in this way gained influence in the military and in society, there was a change of focus throughout the postwar period. In particular, from the early 1960s and onwards there was a growing debate within the Lotta movement concerning the organization’s capacity to provide skills and education in various areas connected to the military that could be of use to women seeking regular employment. The Lotta organization, following this manner of recruiting, presented itself as offering a window of opportunity for those women who wanted or needed to work outside of the home. In this way the SLK put itself into the mainstream of Swedish modernization efforts. This re-­orientation of thinking did not, however, rule out the earlier influential ideas of women as mothers of humanity. On a pragmatic level, throughout the whole period studied here, to be a member of the SLK was a way of taking part in the modernization of society and in the development of women’s emancipation in an arena outside of the home: doing all sorts of jobs, without running the risk of being ridiculed in the way that more outspokenly feminist women activists had to endure. However, as the women’s movement and female emancipation in Sweden evolved, including the acceptance of women in the military, the allure of the Lotta movement gradually wore off, and its membership declined considerably in the late 1960s and 1­ 970s – a­ nd definitely after the end of the Cold War.72 This chapter has given a general overview of the tendencies of thought in the source material, and it has to be pointed out that what can be traced in the views and standpoints for the most part represents the opinions and

106 • Anne Hedén

discussions of the organization’s leadership, and, to some extent, the views of local leaders. A broader study, including more local material, would shed light on how the notions of social motherhood, gender issues and liberal feminism intersected with Swedish self-­image as a whole during the first half of the twentieth century and the Cold War period. Anne Hedén is a historian and a journalist, currently teaching at Stockholm University. Hedén’s research is mainly focused on political and social movements. She defended her PhD thesis in 2008, on the subject of the Swedish-­Chinese friendship and the Maoist influences in the New Left in Sweden in the 1960s and 1970s. Other research interests include Swedish-­Chinese relations in the twentieth century, the Swedish political arena during the First World War and the interwar period and women’s movements and organizations in the Swedish modernization process.

Notes   1. Until 1943 named Sveriges Landstormskvinnor.  2. Fia Sundevall, Det sista manliga yrkesmonopolet: genus och militärt arbete i Sverige 1865–1989 (PhD dissertation, Stockholm University, Stockholm, 2011), 58.   3. See Fredrik Egefur’s contribution to this book.   4. Anders Isaksson, Per Albin Hansson 1: Vägen mot Folkhemmet (Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 1996), 245.   5. Gustaf Lindströms’ archive, volume 34, department of individual archives, Swedish War Archive/Swedish National Archive.  6. Christina Henricson and Leif Törnquist, ‘Humanitär hjälp i krigets spår’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984), 351–371; Sveriges Landsormsföreningars Centralförbund, Årsberättelse och revisionsberättelse för verksamhetsåret 1/7 1944-30/6 1945, 17–21.   7. On humanitarianism in the twentieth century, see Christopher Seiberlich’s contribution to this book.   8. Ulla Manns, Den sanna frigörelsen: Fredrika-Bremer-förbundet 1884–1921 (PhD dissertation, Stockholm University, Stockholm, 1997), 39–40.  9. Charlotte Tornbjer, Den nationella modern: Moderskap i konstruktioner av svensk nationell gemenskap under 1900-talets första hälft (PhD dissertation, Lund University, Lund, 2002). 10. Tornbjer, Den nationella modern, 223. 11. Kjell Östberg, Efter rösträtten: kvinnors utrymme efter det demokratiska genombrottet (Eslöv: Symposion, 1997), 217. 12. Manns, Den sanna frigörelsen, 39–40. 13. Östberg, Efter rösträtten, 202. 14. Tornbjer, Den nationella modern, 264.

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  107

15. Lena Eskilsson, ‘Kvinnligt medborgarskap: om vänskapen som modell för framtidslandet’, in Ronny Ambjörnsson (ed.), I framtidens tjänst: ur folkhemmets idéhistoria (Stockholm: Gidlund, 1986), 221–233; Louise Ulfhielm and Birgitta Andersson (eds), Seklernas arv: Sveriges Landstormskvinnor och Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakårers historia (Stockholm: Riksförbundet Sveriges lottakårer, 1983), 34. 16. Madelene Lidestad, Uppbåd, uppgifter, undantag: om genusarbetsdelning i Sverige under första världskriget (PhD dissertation, Stockholm University, Stockholm, 2005). 17. Public diplomacy has been described as working to achieve foreign policy goals by addressing a foreign public, through ‘government-­ to-­ people contact’; see Helge Danielsen, ‘“A Military ERP”? Military Assiatance and US Public Diplomacy in Norway in the Early 1950s’, Journal of Transatlantic Studies 15(4), 2017, 314. 18. Glenda Sluga, ‘Women, Feminism, and Twentieth Century Internationalism’, in Glenda Sluga and Patricia Clavin (eds), Internationalisms: A Twentieth Century History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 61–65. 19. Cynthia Cockburn, Anti-militarism: Political and Gender Dynamics of Peace Movements (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 253–254. 20. Helen Laville and Hugh Wilford (eds), The US Government, Citizen Groups and the Cold War: The State-Private Network (London: Routledge, 2012 [2006]), 47–52, 55, 62f. 21. Laville and Wilford, The US Government, Citizen Groups and the Cold War, 51. 22. Ulfhielm and Andersson, Seklernas arv, 179f. 23. Gerda Fröberg, travel reports, 1942, attachment I-­III to the minutes of the ex­ecutive committee, 27 May 1942, volume I, series A1, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 24. SLK Executive Committee, 21–22 September 1945, item 13a, 13c-­d, volume I, series A1, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 25. See for example the minutes from the executive committee, 25–26  February 1943, item 24, volume 2, series FVI, accession A, SLK archive. 26. The subcommittee for humanitarian work, Appendix 10 to the Executive Committee meeting 21–22 September 1945, item 13 III, volume X, series A1, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 27. Astrid Stefenson, ‘Angående lottornas verksamhet under krigsåren’, Appendix 12 to the Executive Committee meeting, 2–3  May 1945, volume I, series A1, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 28. Signed A.K., ‘Jag tänker bli LOTTA!’, in Svenska Journalen 47, 1945, appendix 10 to the minutes of the SLK executive committee, 26 November 1945, item 16e, volume I, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 29. Bertil Vrang, ‘Kårer och förbund i verksamhet’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984), 259. 30. Henricson and Törnquist, ‘Humanitär hjälp i krigets spår’, 367–371. See also SLK Executive Committee, 5–6 June 1945, item 19, attachment 10, volume I, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 31. Executive committee, 21–22 sep 1945, item 23, volume I, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 32. Consultation meeting (rådplägningsmöte), 5–6  February 1946, ‘Anmälda deltagare från förbund och kårer till RÅDPLÄGNINGSMÖTET den 5–6 februari 1946’, volume 2, accession A, series FVI, SLK archive. 33. Gurli de Geer and Ingrid von Essen to SLK, attachment 8, Executive Committee, 5–6 June 1945, series A1, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive.

108 • Anne Hedén

34. Consultation meeting, 5–6 February 1946, attachment 1–3, volume 2, accession A, series FVI, SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 35. Consultation meeting, 5–6 February 1946, attachment 1–3, volume 2, accession A, series FVI, SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 36. Dokument, ‘Riksförbundet Sveriges lottakårers rådplägningsmöte i Stockholm den 5 och 6 februari 1946’, Series FVI, volume 2, SLK archive. 37. Executive committee, 18  September 1946, item 19, volume 2, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 38. Executive committee, 18  November 1946, item 6, volume 2, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 39. National Archive, Dnr I 66 Acc 27/52. 40. Executive committee, 24 February 1947, item 24, volume 2, series A2, accession B (56/1984), SLK archive. 41. SLK Executive Committee, 5 June 1945, item 12 and SLK Executive Committee, 21–22  September 1945, item 23, volume I, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive. 42. ‘Rapporter 1943–1961’, volumes 1–5, Series EII, acc A, SLK archive. 43. Sverige Landstormsföreningars Centralförbund, Årsberättelse och revisionsberättelse 1/7 1940-30/6 1941, series B1, volume 3, acc B (56/84), 12. 44. Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakårer, Årsberättelse och revisionsberättelse 1/7 1942-30/6 1943, p 10, Series B1, volume 3, acc B (56/84). 45. SLK executive committee meeting, 16–17 September 1941. 46. Lolan Vasström and Eric Vasström to SLK, August 1944, series FIV, volume 5, SLK archive; Leif Törnquist, ‘Internationella kontakter’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984), 373. 47. ‘Fanni Luukkonen’, World War II database, https://ww2db.com/image.php?image​ _id=22462 (accessed 31 March 2020). 48. Berit Berg von Linde, 20 maj 1957, series FIV, volume 5, SLK archive. 49. See the annual reports of the SLK. 50. Military attaché Carl-­Reinhold von Essen to colonel Gustaf Berggren, head of the foreign department at the Armed Forces General Staff, 13  April 1943, volume 1, series F2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 51. SLK, Executive Committee, 25 November 1945, item 6, volume 1, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 52. SLK, Executive Committee, 7–8 February 1946, item 13, volume 1, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 53. SLK, Executive Committee, 17–18 September 1946, item 20, volume 1, series A2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 54. Törnquist, ‘Internationella kontakter’, 373–386; volume 1 and 3, series F2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 55. Karin Bratt to the directorate general of the SLK, ‘Rapport från D.K.B.kretsens möte i Jyderup den 26–27 October 1946’, 8 November 1946, volume 1, series F2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 56. Henricson and Törnquist, ‘Humanitär hjälp i krigets spår’, 351–367; Sveriges Landsormsföreningars Centralförbund, Årsberättelse och revisionsberättelse för verksamhetsåret 1/7 1940-30/6, 12. See also Nina Linder, ‘Breven från Finland’, EB-nytt: Nyheter från Riksarkivets avdelning för enskilda arkiv 2008/2009, 19ff. 57. Executive Committee, 7–8 February 1946, item 25 f, volume I, series A2, accession B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive.

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  109

58. Executive Committee, 18 November 1946, item 25f, volume 1, series A2, accession B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 59. Preparatory Committee of the IIIrd World Festival of Youth and Students for Peace to SLK, 4  July 1951, volume 1, series F2, acc B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 60. Executive Committee, 9–10 December 1947, item 24g, volume I, series A2, accession B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 61. Executive committee, 17–18 September 1946, item 18 and 26. 62. See ‘Sammandrag av förhandlingarna vid rådplägningsmötet i Stockholm den 5. Och 6. Februari 1946’ (signed 19  March 1946 by Märta Stenbeck och Berit Berg von Linde), Attachment to circular 11 1945–46, Kansliet Series FVI, konferenser, volume 2, SLK archive. 63. Executive Committee, 9–10 December 1947, item 24g, volume I, series A2, accession B (56/1984), SLK archive, Swedish War Archive. 64. Appendix 7 to the Executive Committee meeting, 21–22 September 1945, item 13 I, volume X, SLK. 65. Lars Ericson (later Lars Ericson Wolke), ‘En folkrörelses framväxt’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984), 209. 66. Vivica Spens, ‘Från propaganda till information’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984), 330. 67. Helge Sahlin (director), Försvarets Filmdetalj, Sueciafilm 1962, Petter kom. Färg, ljud, 19 minutes. 68. Carl Eric Almgren, ‘Den militära ledningens syn på SLK och dess uppgifter i försvaret’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984), 65, 75. 69. Almgren, ‘Den militära ledningens syn på SLK och dess uppgifter i försvaret’, 60–62; SLK, Kvinnorna och den passiva försvarsberedskapen, 1939, överförd till VHS, Stiftelsen Armé- Marin- och Flygfilm. For a definition and discussion of what constituted a proper people’s movement in Sweden, see Lars Ericson, ‘En folkrörelses framväxt’, 199–221. This writer considers, however, that the definition presented in this chapter could be contested on the grounds that the people’s movements were primarily defined by their overarching aspiration to expand and deepen Swedish ­democracy – ­which was not the obvious goal for any auxiliary military organization. 70. See for example Pia Olsson, Eteen vapahan valkean Suomen: kansatieteellinen tutkimus lottatoiminnasta paikallisella tasolla vuoteen 1939 = For Finland – white and free: an ethnological study of the Lotta Svärd women’s auxiliaries at local level up to 1939 (Unpublsihed PhD dissertation, Helsinki University, Helsinki, 1999). 71. Anne Hedén, ‘Från kokvagnsmarscher för fosterlandet till att göra ett bra val: Lottarörelsens förhållande till jämställdhet och feminism under efterkrigstiden’ (Master’s thesis, Södertörn University, 1999), 32. 72. Törnquist, ‘Internationella kontakter’, 383.

110 • Anne Hedén

Bibliography Almgren, Carl Eric. ‘Den militära ledningens syn på SLK och dess uppgifter i försvaret’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984). Cockburn, Cynthia. Anti-militarism: Political and Gender Dynamics of Peace Movements (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). Danielsen, Helge. ‘“A Military ERP”? Military Assiatance and US Public Diplomacy in Norway in the Early 1950s’, Journal of Transatlantic Studies 15(4), 2017. Ericson, Lars (later Lars Ericson Wolke). ‘En folkrörelses framväxt’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984). Eskilsson, Lena. ‘Kvinnligt medborgarskap: om vänskapen som modell för framtidslandet’, in Ronny Ambjörnsson (ed.), I framtidens tjänst: ur folkhemmets idéhistoria (Stockholm: Gidlund, 1986). Fanni Luukkonen. World War II database, https://ww2db.com/image.php?image_id= 2​2462 (accessed 31 March 2020). Hedén, Anne. ‘Från kokvagnsmarscher för fosterlandet till att göra ett bra val: Lottarörelsens förhållande till jämställdhet och feminism under efterkrigstiden’ (Master’s thesis, Södertörn University, 1999). Henricson, Christina and Leif Törnquist. ‘Humanitär hjälp i krigets spår’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984). Isaksson, Anders. Per Albin Hansson 1: Vägen mot Folkhemmet (Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand, 1996). Laville, Helen and Hugh Wilford (eds). The US Government, Citizen Groups and the Cold War: The State-Private Network (London: Routledge, 2012 [2006]). Lidestad, Madelene. Uppbåd, uppgifter, undantag: om genusarbetsdelning i Sverige under första världskriget (PhD dissertation, Stockholm University, Stockholm, 2005). Linder, Nina, ‘Breven från Finland’, EB-nytt: Nyheter från Riksarkivets avdelning för enskilda arkiv 2008/2009 (Stockholm: Riksarkivet, 1993–2011). Manns, Ulla. Den sanna frigörelsen: Fredrika-Bremer-förbundet 1884–1921 (PhD dissertation, Stockholm University, Stockholm, 1997). Olsson, Pia. Eteen vapahan valkean Suomen: kansatieteellinen tutkimus lottatoiminnasta paikallisella tasolla vuoteen 1939 = For Finland – white and free: an ethnological study of the Lotta Svärd women’s auxiliaries at local level up to 1939 (Unpublsihed PhD dissertation, Helsinki University, Helsinki, 1999). Östberg, Kjell. Efter rösträtten: kvinnors utrymme efter det demokratiska genombrottet (Eslöv: Symposion, 1997). Sahlin, Helge (director). Försvarets Filmdetalj, Sueciafilm 1962, Petter kom. Färg, ljud, 19 minutes. Sluga, Glenda. ‘Women, Feminism, and Twentieth Century Internationalism’, in Glenda Sluga and Patricia Clavin (eds), Internationalisms: A Twentieth Century History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017). Spens, Vivica. ‘Från propaganda till information’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984). Sundevall, Fia. Det sista manliga yrkesmonopolet: genus och militärt arbete i Sverige 1865– 1989 (PhD dissertation, Stockholm University, Stockholm, 2011).

The Swedish Lotta Movement and Its Neighbours  •  111

Tornbjer, Charlotte. Den nationella modern: Moderskap i konstruktioner av svensk nationell gemenskap under 1900-talets första hälft (PhD dissertation, Lund University, Lund, 2002). Törnquist, Leif. ‘Internationella kontakter’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984). Ulfhielm, Louise and Birgitta Andersson (eds). Seklernas arv: Sveriges Landstormskvinnor och Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakårers historia (Stockholm: Riksförbundet Sveriges lottakårer, 1983). Vrang, Bertil. ‘Kårer och förbund i verksamhet’, in Leif Törnquist (ed.), Lottorna i samhällets tjänst (Stockholm: Militärhistoriska förl., 1984).

Chapter 5

The Quest for Neutrality

Sweden, Finland and the Language Question in a Cold War Context Janne Väistö

R Introduction This chapter explores Swedish peace by looking at the role of Finland, which has acted as a buffer zone between Sweden and the threat to its eastern borders, and also how agreement on a common language has been a means of forming a Nordic coalition that has kept the region safe. In order to understand how these two issues have come together it is vital to have a strong grasp of the historical background. By 1809, the Swedish Empire had lost a third of its territory located on the eastern shore of the Gulf of Bothnia, including Finland, which was incorporated into the Russian Empire. Even though this was a great loss, and although the border between Russia and Sweden was moved hundreds of kilometres closer to Stockholm, in the long run the new reality greatly eased the threat to Sweden from the east. This was simply due to the geopolitics in the northern part of the Baltic Sea, particularly the relationship between Russia and Sweden. The conquest of Finland marked a significant improvement in the security of St Petersburg, founded in 1703. Once Russia believed that St Petersburg was secure, it no longer saw Sweden as a threat, and Sweden no longer felt menaced from that direction.1 As a result of the First World War, the political map of Europe changed drastically. The old empires of Germany, Austria-­Hungary, the Ottomans and Russia had disintegrated, and new nation-­states were established in their former territories. This upheaval had significant consequences for

The Quest for Neutrality  •  113

Sweden, even though it had remained on the sidelines of the war. First, the Russian Empire was replaced by the Soviet Union. Four new states now emerged between the Soviet Union and Sweden: Finland, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. From the point of view of security policy, the sea border between Sweden and the Soviet Union now extended as far as the lower end of the Gulf of Finland.2 Finland itself faced a serious challenge to preserving the independence that it had secured in 1917 in the wake of the Russian Revolution. There was no ambiguity about the source of the threat to its autonomy: Soviet Russia. It was equally clear that Finland alone could not defend itself against the might of the Soviet Union; it needed support from other countries.3 Following the loss of Finland, there were no threats to Sweden from the East, and there have been none for more than 200 years. The Grand Duchy of Finland has functioned as a buffer between Russia and Sweden, and even Finland’s independence in 1917 was no cause of anxiety to Sweden. During the Second World War, the Soviet Union’s territorial claims were directed towards Finland and the Baltic countries, not Sweden. And throughout the Cold War it was Finland’s position as a neighbour of the Soviet Union which affected the foreign policy space of the entire Nordic region, especially Sweden, again partly as a matter of geography: Helsinki is closer to St Petersburg (Leningrad) than Stockholm is, and so Finland posed a greater risk to the Soviet Union than Sweden. Finland’s location between East and West, Russia and Scandinavia, has been of great importance to Sweden.4 Despite the historical bond between Sweden and Finland, and the overall friendship between the two countries, relations have sometimes been tense, especially since Finland’s independence. A crucial but generally overlooked element of this turbulence has involved the status of the Swedish language and Finnish-­Swedish culture in Finland. Documents from both the Swedish ministry for foreign affairs (­Utrikesdepartementet – U ­ D), and the Finnish political leadership show that Sweden had been interested in the Finnish language question since Finland’s independence in 1917. At first, the language issue was intertwined with the dispute between Finland and Sweden over the Åland Islands; from the 1920s up to the beginning of the Winter War (1939–1940) it was also at the heart of Finnish domestic politics.5 Later, during the Cold War, Sweden and Finland had many common foreign and economic policy concerns, and Sweden in particular had its own interest in the Nordic orientation of Finland and thus in supporting the Swedish-­speaking population of Finland and enhancing the status of the Swedish language. The Cold War was a crucial time for Finland. The Finnish state leadership wanted to ensure that any decisions it took on the Swedish language

114 • Janne Väistö

question did not provoke Sweden in any way. The geo-­political ­situation – F ­ inland’s position between East and W ­ est – w ­ as always at play: by supporting the Swedish-­speaking population and the Swedish language, Finland could present itself favourably in Sweden and among other Western countries. In turn, it would act as an important counterweight to political pressure from the Soviet Union. In practice, this was reflected in several concrete decisions, one of the most significant being the mandatory teaching of Swedish in Finnish-­language schools.6 In this chapter, I consider the language issue from the period of Finland’s independence up to the end of the Cold War. How was the matter addressed by Sweden when considering the policy of neutrality and Nordic cooperation? How can the language question be connected to Sweden’s long history of peace? After a summary of the historical background, I present two examples that demonstrate the importance of the issue to relations between Sweden and Finland during the Cold War decades. The first is the feedback from the report of the Finnish school committee (Läroverketskommitté) in the early 1950s on the status of the Swedish language in Finland. The second is the Finnish legislation passed on the comprehensive school system in the late 1960s, specifically concerning whether the Swedish language should be made a mandatory subject for all Finnish-­speaking pupils. The examples show that the language issue not only had foreign and security policy implications, but also that it had more practical political implications for Nordic cooperation. In both cases, the UD responded to Finland’s language solutions, while the press of the other Nordic ­countries – D ­ anish, Norwegian and ­Swedish – ­monitored the situation and persisted in the belief that a common ‘Nordic’ language was important for continued cooperation between the two countries.7 During the Cold War, Finland needed good relations with the West, and this depended in part on adopting the Swedish language. In turn, S ­ weden – a­ nd the West more g­ enerally – ­needed a stable, independent, democratic Finland positioned between itself and the Soviet Union, which meant maintaining good relations with Finland through recognition of a shared Nordic culture and traditions. Encouraging the common language of Swedish was seen as an excellent way of strengthening this bond.

Language Peace – A Requirement for Finland to Participate in Nordic Neutrality After a brief period of orientation towards Germany, the idea of cooperation with the so-­called ‘border countries’ – the Baltic states and P ­ oland – was

The Quest for Neutrality  •  115

raised in Finland, but initial parliamentary support for the idea dwindled.8 In the 1920s, the idea of collective security guaranteed by the League of Nations was proposed, both in the Nordic countries and in Finland, but this, too, quickly evaporated.9 The increasing weakness of the League of Nations and the worsening political situation in the early 1930s later began to force the Finnish political leadership to revise its security policy. For Finland there were now only two alternatives: commitment to the idea of Nordic neutrality or alliance with Hitler’s Germany, which was by now growing in power.10 There were two reasons why Hitler’s Germany was an attractive option for those guiding Finnish foreign policy. For one thing, its military might offered a clear counter to the Soviet Union, which had long been defined as Finland’s only enemy state. The second reason came from nearer to home, and emerged especially from within the ranks of the Finnish right: confidence in the Nordic countries and Sweden had not been fully restored since the Åland Islands controversy, making commitment to a common neutrality policy unattractive.11 The Åland Islands controversy thus concerns us here because it directly relates to the language question. In 1935, political negotiations were conducted between Sweden and Finland on the joint fortification of the Åland Islands. The Finnish Social Democrat Party saw this cooperation, and potential Nordic orientation, as positive. The Finnish government took advantage of the contacts that one social democratic politician, Väinö Tanner, had with the leading social democrats in Sweden to arrange a joint occupation of the Islands, a decision which was officially confirmed in the Finnish Parliament on 5 December 1935.12 But actual cooperation with Sweden was never fully ­confirmed – i­n fact, it remained disputed. The main obstacle was language, a matter that had remained unresolved since the end of the 1920s, and which had been debated especially at the University of Helsinki. The parties in this debate were roughly divided into two different camps, the so-­called ‘Genuine Finns’13 and Swedish speakers. The latter had the support of the social democrats, who believed that the culture should be bilingual.14 The Genuine Finns, for their part, believed that there should be only one official language in Finland, Finnish. The language debate had other dimensions. There was disagreement in Finland about who the interested parties were and who therefore should have a say in the matter. For the Genuine Finns the issue was purely domestic, whereas for supporters of bilingualism the issue of cultural cohesion among all Nordic countries was at stake, and therefore affected everyone. The Swedish-­speaking Finns looked for support from the other Nordic countries, and the Swedish language debate was monitored closely

116 • Janne Väistö

throughout the Nordic region, though especially in Sweden. The Finnish language conflict undoubtedly presented an obstacle to developing cooperation between the two countries.15 To what extent did Sweden continue to engage in the Finnish language debate in the 1930s? In addition to the discourse in the Swedish press, there was broad interest among the general public. In the autumn of 1934, Scandinavian university teachers filed a petition in defence of the teaching of the Swedish language in Finland, which they believed was under threat. Although the petition was rejected, against the wishes of the Nordic foreign ministers, it was a sign of widespread anxiety among the Nordic countries, who were clearly concerned about the status of the Swedish language and of Swedish-­speaking Finns.16 Although legally the language issue was a purely domestic matter as far as Finland was concerned, the situation was not quite so simple in reality. The centuries-­old common history between Sweden and Finland had created a very unique relationship between the two c­ountries – a­ special relationship that had been demonstrated, for example, during the Finnish Civil War (1918), when numerous volunteers from the Swedish military and from right-­wing political circles came forward to defend the Finnish bourgeois government. In the decades after Finland’s independence, and after the Åland crisis, the past connections between the two countries began to affect the attitudes of the Swedes towards the situation of Swedish culture and language in Finland. Even before the crisis, from the late 1920s onwards Finland had begun  to consider the language question at the Finnish embassy in Stockholm. Contemporary reports show that in Stockholm the idea of Sweden acting as a kind of ‘security policy’ for Finland had been conceived many years before the official announcement of Nordic orientation in December 1935. Finland’s leaders in foreign policy understood the importance of Sweden and of Swedish public opinion in bilateral relations.17 Things had begun to change in September 1932, when the Social Democrat Party came to power in Sweden. For the social democrats, the status of Swedish-­speaking Finns and the Swedish language in Finland was not such an emotional issue as it was for many right-­wing politicians.18 In November 1936, J.K. Paasikivi was appointed ambassador of Finland to Stockholm. The purpose of the appointment was to strengthen the credibility of Finland’s new foreign policy orientation in Sweden and the other Nordic countries. It was understandable why the task was given to this sixty-­six-­year-­old statesman. Paasikivi had excellent relations with Sweden’s leading circles, including the royal house. But, as Max Jakobson has pointed out, the shift to the social democrats in the

The Quest for Neutrality  •  117

1930s put Paasikivi at a clear disadvantage, as he and the new Swedish government did not know each other. It essentially impeded his main task, which was to persuade Sweden to join a defensive alliance with Finland.19 But the biggest obstacle to any further cooperation between Finland and Sweden came from Finland itself. In 1937, the language question came up again at the University of Helsinki, and this time the issue was widely covered in the Swedish press. The issue was now gaining importance within the foreign policy field, as the Swedish press started to combine it with the question of Finland’s Nordic orientation. Many Finnish politicians now understood the language question to be a part of Finland’s security policy.20 It was clearly a cause for concern among Finland’s political leadership, and especially for Paasikivi. Paasikivi approached leading Finnish politicians with a letter demanding real action to end the debate. It is clear that Paasikivi saw Nordic orientation as the only realistic alternative for Finland, and he therefore outlined ways to promote it.21 To strengthen Nordic cooperation, Paasikivi considered it important to consider the Swedish-­speaking population in Finland. For Paasikivi, Swedish language and culture, as well as the Swedish-­speaking Finns themselves, were useful as part of foreign policy. The reason was simple. In Sweden and among the other Nordic countries there was a sense of brotherhood and belonging which was shared with the Swedish-­speaking population of Finland. So, if the Swedish-­speaking Finns were oppressed, Nordic hostility towards the Finnish-­speaking population would grow. If Finland were to have any hope of achieving a sustainable degree of Nordic partnership, then, the Swedish-­speaking population had to be handled correctly. This required one thing: language peace.22 As the 1930s progressed, the Finnish political leaders came round to this viewpoint. They realized that the only realistic foreign policy option was Nordic neutrality, and Nordic cooperation required language peace in Finland. Finland could not be part of the group of Nordic countries if it did not support the Swedish-­speaking culture in Finland. The question of language peace was thus not only a domestic ­matter – ­the attitude the Finns had taken up to now. The language issue had to be part of Finland’s foreign policy, a political reality that had to be considered in Finland. And it would be, from the mid-­1930s until the end of the Cold War, with the result that Finland’s position as a Nordic country would serve both Sweden and the entire Nordic region well. Language ­peace – s­ upporting the status of the Swedish language in F ­ inland – ­put into practice the idea of a common Nordic cultural sphere. This, in turn, benefited Sweden, because there was now a neutral and democratic Nordic country between it and the Soviet Union.

118 • Janne Väistö

Sweden, Finland and the Question of Neutrality in the Post‑War Decades With the outbreak of the Second World War, Sweden’s importance to Finland changed dramatically. Sweden became Finland’s ‘last refuge’ in the whirlwind of world politics. Finland received both material help and loans from Sweden. At the same time, the language question was set aside in Finland.23 After the war, Swedish government credits helped to jump-­start the reconstruction of Finland and facilitate the payment of war compensation to the Soviet Union. The scale of Swedish government loans is effectively illustrated by the fact that by the end of the 1960s, Finland still had a wartime debt of 200 million SEK to Sweden.24 Sweden also provided direct assistance to Finnish citizens through NGOs.25 Sweden did not assist Finland for humanitarian reasons alone; it also did so for its own interests. The Agreement of Friendship, Cooperation, and Mutual Assistance, also known as the YYA Treaty (1948), between Finland and the Soviet Union supported Sweden’s neutrality policy, with the result that it was no longer burdened by concerns about how Finland would react in the event of a possible crisis. After the Second World War, Finland established its relationship with the Soviet Union on its own terms, without banking on the help of any other states. Sweden could now be assured that there was an independent, neutral country between it and the Soviet Union.26 This situation would then affect Swedish foreign policy throughout the Cold War: Sweden could not join NATO, for instance, because to do so would have pushed Finland closer towards the Soviet Union, which in turn would bring the Soviet Union closer to the Swedish border.27 Another dimension of Sweden’s foreign policy in which Finland played an important role was trade. Trade with the Western powers was important for Finland, because it prevented the nation from becoming too dependent on trade with the Soviet Union. After the war, Finland’s foreign trade was burdened by war compensations, as noted above, which slowed down its growth throughout the 1950s. A new phase in foreign trade only began with Finland’s acceptance into the European Free Trade Association (EFTA) in 1961. During the 1960s, this meant that trade between the Nordic countries increased, especially between Sweden and Finland.28 The rules on free movement that had been agreed between the Nordic countries in 1954 also facilitated the movement of labour, which went mainly from Finland to Sweden.29 The importance of Sweden to Finland was readily apparent in the daily lives of ordinary citizens. During the war, direct contact between the two was made through war-­child

The Quest for Neutrality  •  119

cooperation; immediately after the war, Sweden was practically the only foreign country that Finland could approach. Although trade, movement of labour, and communications between the countries increased dramatically in the 1960s, there was surprisingly little cooperation between politicians. The new phase of diplomacy between leading Swedish and Finnish politicians did not really begin until 1964, when ambassador Ingemar Hägglöf arrived in Finland. In his book Dagbok från Salutorget, Hägglöf outlines how relations between Finnish and Swedish politicians grew during his years as an ambassador. By early 1964, before moving to Helsinki, Hägglöf had asked senior Swedish politicians about their relationship with the Finnish political leadership. It came as a surprise to him that connections with politicians other than social democrats were almost completely absent. Hägglöf now took upon himself the task of establishing ties, especially making connections with the Swedish prime minister, Tage Erlander, and the Finnish president, Urho Kekkonen.30 In addition, the Swedish press played a major role in the development of relations between the two countries. They closely followed events in Finland, and their publications were followed in Finland. The Finnish press also used material from the Swedish press when they were not allowed to write about Soviet issues. The Swedish press were able to circulate sensitive issues among the Finnish press, who could report the information as foreign-­borrowed articles. The Swedish press were also used to exert a form of pressure in Finnish domestic politics.31

Sweden and the Finnish Language Question during the Cold War Decades During the Cold War decades, Sweden sustained its interest in the idea of Nordic orientation in Finland, and thus in the Swedish-­ speaking population of Finland and the teaching of the Swedish language. Krister Wahlbäck, who was one of Sweden’s leading experts in Finnish matters, outlined the situation in his presentation to the Paasikivi Society.32 According to Wahlbäck, the Swedish ministry of foreign affairs had no official plan for Finland at that time, but believed that Sweden’s general interests could be summarized in seven key points. The first and most fundamental interest was to maintain Finland as an independent state. Second was the determination that no part of Finland should be exploited by the military forces of any foreign country. The third interest was to ensure that Finnish defence forces had the capacity to ward off any such threat. The fourth interest was in Finland’s status as a neutral

120 • Janne Väistö

state, which Sweden hoped could be maintained and strengthened. The fifth interest was in Finland’s position as a Nordic country. According to Wahlbäck, it was important to Sweden that Finland belong to the group of Nordic countries. Finland was needed to increase Nordic influence and bring balance to the region. Significantly, Nordic cooperation required a common language, which was Swedish. Because of this, the Swedish state remained interested in the status of the Swedish language in Finland. The sixth interest, according to Wahlbäck, was in the Finnish economy and its success. The seventh and final interest was to ensure that Finland was able to make the Soviet Union understand and accept all of the aforementioned goals.33 The reference to the Swedish state’s interest in the Swedish-­speaking population of Finland, and thus the position of the Swedish language in Finland, is interesting. During the Cold War there was hardly any other expression of an ethnic p ­ erspective – u ­ nlike the early twentieth century, when Swedish identity was a major part of the language issue and popular movements in Sweden had promoted the unity of all Swedish-­speaking communities, most prominently the Allsvenska (whole-­Swedish) movement.34 Now, the language issue was once more being linked to cultural identity. The importance of the language issue in relations between Sweden and Finland was also recognized by other countries. For example, the British Foreign Office stated that: The inclusion of Finland in the concept of Scandinavia must be given a few words in conclusion. Finland had a historical connection with Sweden extending from the 13th century to 1808. It consequently contains a considerable Swedish-­speaking population, which until recently was of exceptional social and economic importance. It was therefore perhaps natural for Sweden to advocate the inclusion of Finland in the Scandinavian group, and it seemed no doubt to promote Swedish security to have a friendly buffer state interposed between Russia and Sweden.35

The Foreign Office showed a good understanding of the Swedish-­speaking Finns’ cultural connection to Sweden, and believed that it had the means to promote this in Finnish domestic policy, maintaining that it was ‘in a position to draw support from the Swedish press and radio, its free opinion and its western sympathies’.36 And it linked cultural identity with language history. Wahlbäck’s claim that Sweden wanted to control Finland and require the adoption of Swedish as the common language of neutrality is corroborated by the material found in the archives of the Swedish ministry for foreign affairs. Diplomatic relations between the two countries had

The Quest for Neutrality  •  121

begun in 1918, when Sweden recognized Finland’s independence. This led to Sweden appointing an ambassador and activating the mission in Finland. Almost immediately after the establishment of diplomatic relations, the Swedish embassy’s duties included reporting on the status of the Swedish-­speaking population of Finland and on the Swedish language as a whole. The importance of this task is illustrated by the fact that from 1920 onwards a separate archive unit was set up to report on the language issue.37 The reports prepared by the Swedish embassy in Helsinki for the Swedish ministry for foreign affairs are by far the most important sources for examining the Swedish government’s attitude to the language solution in Finland at different times and its impact on decision-­making in Stockholm, going all the way back to the advent of Finland’s independence. They show that the language debate was of interest to the Swedish state at least until Sweden’s membership in the European Union, when the available source material ends. In the following, I present two examples of how the language issue affected relations between Sweden and Finland during the Cold War. The first example comes from feedback from the report of the Finnish school committee (Läroverketskommitté) in the early 1950s on the status of the Swedish language in Finland. The second example is taken from Finnish legislative work for a comprehensive school system in the late 1960s, and specifically addresses the question of whether the Swedish language should be made a mandatory subject for all Finnish-­speaking pupils. In both cases it must be remembered that the Finnish language, which belongs to the Finno-­Ugric language family, differs significantly from the Swedish language, which is one of the Germanic languages. For Finnish speakers, Swedish is a completely foreign language, while it is not for Danish and Norwegian speakers. Studying Swedish would have been a significant addition to a pupil’s curriculum and was therefore often opposed by school experts as well as politicians. The question of teaching Swedish was a matter of pedagogy, not just foreign policy.38 Nevertheless, both examples reveal much about how the language question related to diplomatic relations during this period.

Example 1: How a Proposal by the Läroverketskommitté Reveals the Actors Driving the Language Issue Evidence from the Swedish embassy in Helsinki in the 1950s shows that one of Sweden’s most important interests for decades had been the teaching of Swedish in Finnish schools. Reports of the Swedish ministry of foreign affairs and from Finnish sources reveal how the language

122 • Janne Väistö

­ uestion was addressed, at what level of schooling it was considered, and q what implications this had for relations between the countries. After the Second World War, Finland had to reshape its society in many ways. Communism had to be legalized, while many right-­wing organizations had to be dissolved. In addition, the relationship that Swedish-­speaking Finns had with the Swedish language changed significantly. It was forbidden to criticize the speaking of Swedish, and the language debate had to be buried.39 The feedback from a report of the Läroverketskommitté, or school committee, in the early 1950s, and its statements on the status of the Swedish language, offer useful insights into this situation. They also show the high governmental level at which Swedish language teaching was handled in Finland, and also how closely the issue was followed in Sweden.40 In 1950, the Finnish government tasked the Läroverketskommitté with setting up grammar schools. In a report submitted in the autumn of 1954, the committee proposed, among many other ideas, that the teaching of Swedish in schools should be reduced. The Swedish press followed the committee’s work and was well aware of its plans; Svenska Dagbladet wrote about them as early as September 1952, when the committee was still in the process of formulating them. The article expressed concerns about the consequences if Swedish language teaching was to decline in Finland.41 The matter was soon taken up by the Swedish-­speaking press in Finland, where the committee’s plans were completely denounced.42 The issue was next raised at the time of the publication of the committee’s report in the autumn of 1954.43 The Swedish-­speaking press in Finland again attacked the committee’s plans. The Swedish embassy in Helsinki similarly reacted to the committee’s report as a worrying development in Finland.44 The matter reached the highest level of Finnish politics when President Paasikivi brought it before the Finnish prime minister, Urho Kekkonen. Paasikivi wrote in his diary on 6  November 1954 about his conversation with Kekkonen: I said: Everything about the Swedish language and the Swedish minority is bypassing foreign policy. We cannot afford to weaken relations with Sweden. It is influenced by the position of the Swedish minority in Finland. It is important that goodwill in Sweden and the Nordic countries and throughout the Western world is maintained and strengthened. . . . This all applies to foreign policy relations and therefore to the presidency. I’m not going to give in this regard as long as I am president. Kekkonen said he agreed.45

Paasikivi had, after the war, acted as a guarantor of the Swedish-­speaking population of Finland and protector of their rights. His policy of support-

The Quest for Neutrality  •  123

ing the Swedish-­speaking population was based on his desire to promote unity within the country, and his belief that by supporting Finland’s Swedish-­speaking population and the position of the Swedish language, a favourable image of Finland would be promoted in Sweden and other Western countries. Since 1809, the cornerstone of Swedish foreign policy had always been good relations with Russia and the Soviet Union. Now, as a counterweight to Finland’s positive status in the East, good relations with the West were also needed. In fact, this is where the foreign policy ideas of Sweden and Finland came together. Paasikivi’s goal was to make the Swedish language, as well as the treatment of Swedish-­speaking Finns, a part of Finland’s foreign policy.46 As Sweden’s and Finland’s understanding of the only realistic policy they could take towards the East became unified, so did the idea of a common Nordic identity. It was in the interests of both Sweden and the Nordic region that Finland become part of the Nordic countries. And what could be used to emphasize a common identity was a common Scandinavian culture and l­anguage – S ­ wedish in Finland. The presentation of the Läroverketskommitté on the status of the Swedish language and its aftermath revealed the main actors driving the language issue and their reactions: the Swedish-­speaking press in Finland, the press in Sweden, the Swedish embassy in Helsinki, and President Paasikivi, with his absolute position on the question of the Swedish language in Finland.

Example 2: Did ‘The Finnish Cause Is Ours’ Influence Language Decisions in Comprehensive Schools? ‘The Finnish Cause Is Ours’ (Finlands sak är vår) is the title of a Swedish book written by journalists Olof Lagercrantz and Karl-­Gustaf Hillebrand. It appeared in December 1939, at the outbreak of the Winter War. Its print run was 600,000 copies, and its popularity spread throughout Sweden. The book’s title was adopted as a campaign motto by a Swedish NGO, the Finland Committee. The campaign sought to attract Swedish volunteers to fight with Finland against the Soviet invasion, and resulted in 10,000 applicants, of whom 8000 were eventually sent to Finland. In many ways, it reflects the affinity Sweden felt with Finland and symbolizes the ideal held by many in Sweden of incorporating Finland within a Nordic community. The belief in a joint cause inevitably influenced the issue of a shared language, and thus of Swedish language teaching, when it emerged again in the late 1960s during the legislative work for the Finnish comprehensive

124 • Janne Väistö

school system. Despite proposals from school experts in favour of adding only one language (in addition to Finnish) to the ­curriculum – ­English – the Finnish Parliament voted 137–24 to introduce two mandatory languages: a foreign language (most voted for English) and another domestic language, Swedish. The arguments were based on Finland’s bilingualism and on notions of equality and Nordic cooperation. The strongest argument focused specifically on Nordic cooperation. Bringing in the Swedish language would prove that Finland belonged to the fold of the Nordic countries and the West. This distinction would have great psychological importance in the Cold War world; in essence, then, the logic of the Cold War dictated the direction of the Finnish language policy.47 Just as they had fifteen years earlier, many traces have been found to show how the other Nordic countries tried to influence the Finnish language question. Debates in the Nordic press show that what was taught in Finnish comprehensive schools had important implications for the whole Nordic region. There were clear warnings in newspaper articles about the serious consequences if the Swedish language were discarded: Finland would become isolated from Nordic cooperation if Swedish was not made mandatory in comprehensive schools. It was clear that it was not only in Sweden’s interests that Swedish continued to be taught in order to keep the peace but Denmark’s and Norway’s too.48 And so, in the press publishing opinion pieces across the Nordic countries, the language issue in Finnish schools was connected to the idea that became known as the Nordic Balance.49 At the state level, Finland’s language issue was intrinsically complicated and problematic. The language solution in Finnish comprehensive schools was considered an indisputably domestic matter in which other states could not intervene, but this belief is only partially borne out by the evidence. Amongst the three Nordic countries, only the archives of the Danish ministry of foreign affairs has no materials concerning the Finnish language solution. The Norwegian foreign ministry’s archive contains reports sent from the embassy in Helsinki, but there are no sources to indicate how Norway reacted to them.50 The activities of the Swedish state, however, reach another level. The embassy in Helsinki actively reported to the Swedish ministry of foreign affairs on the developments concerning the status of the Swedish language from the period of Finland’s independence up to the debates on the comprehensive schools’ language solution. And this was not just a matter of reporting.51 The contacts between Finnish politicians and the Swedish embassy in Helsinki, and the reactions of the embassy and the Swedish ministry of foreign affairs, clearly made the Swedish state one of the actors in the language issue. Sweden

The Quest for Neutrality  •  125

had a definite interest in the Finnish language policy; the ministry forwarded its embassy’s reports on the matter to the Swedish media, deciding this was the best way to try to force media outlets to write about it and thus to influence the issue.52 The Norwegian and Danish press also closely followed the handling of the language solution in Finland and published numerous warnings on Finland’s potential isolation from Nordic cooperation if Swedish was not included in the comprehensive school curriculum. Sweden was thus just as active on the question as it had been during the whole period of independence. Although there is very little research on the matter, traces can be found of this involvement. The comment by the long-­standing Swedish diplomat Sverker Åström in his memoirs explains a little more about the Swedish attitude to the Finnish language issue: ‘An indispensable tool in our cooperation is Finland’s bilingualism. That Swedish is preserved in education and public life is one vital interest in the Nordic countries, Sweden and, I think, Finland’.53 The Nordic countries clearly believed that Finland’s full participation in Nordic cooperation required a common language, Swedish.54 Here it is also worth remembering that during the Cold War decades it was mandatory for every citizen of a Soviet satellite state to study Russian, meaning that if Finland had chosen to require its people to learn Russian, this would have sent a clear signal: that Finland wanted to be part of a Soviet bloc, not a Western or Nordic coalition. The language solution that was ultimately reached thus confirmed that Finland belonged to the Nordic countries, not to the Eastern bloc. This had great psychological significance for all of the Nordic countries during the Cold War. The Swedish language was part of a common linguistic community; linking Finland to that community created a shared bond between it and the other countries. Although Nordic cooperation took place on a very concrete, practical level, the idea of a common language gave all the Nordic countries an implicit sense of belonging.

Conclusions For the last two centuries, the Swedish state leadership has shown great ability to adapt to the ebb and flow of world politics. This has required both flexibility and determination, but this politics has paid off: peace has been maintained. Of course, maintaining peace has also required a number of basic preconditions. Sweden has been highly successful economically, and the fruits of its economy have been distributed among large sections of the population. For this reason, there have been no extremist movements threatening democracy in Sweden, unlike in many other European

126 • Janne Väistö

countries between the world wars. A sound economy has also enabled the building of armed forces powerful enough to maintain a credible defence. But the preservation of Swedish peace has also been helped by the geopolitical position that was created in 1809. For two centuries, Sweden has been like an island in northern Europe: in the north and west it is protected by mountains, and in the south and east the sea separates it from its neighbours. For more than 200 years, Sweden has not had a common land border with its eastern superpower, as separating Sweden and Russia (the Soviet Union) there has always been Finland, first as a Grand Duchy and then, since 1917, as an independent state. As Krister Wahlbäck’s list of the Swedish foreign ministry’s interests in Finland shows, it has been extremely important for Sweden that Finland remains both independent and a Nordic democracy. Of course, this is reflected in Sweden’s historical attitude towards Finland, especially throughout the decades of the Cold War. Sweden’s behaviour throughout this time was partly tied to Finland’s position as Soviet Union’s neighbour; Sweden had to take Finland into account in its decisions. There are several examples of this. Sweden, Finland and the other Nordic countries have been united by many different factors: economic cooperation through joint EFTA membership, the Nordic security policy situation, the Nordic Balance, and the idea that Nordic countries comprise a common cultural identity. And what also unites all the Nordic countries is a common Scandinavian language family; in Finland, this means the Swedish language. Swedish is not just a means of communication, it is also a way of creating a sense of common culture. The reason why Sweden has long been concerned with the question of language in Finland involves its inherently emotional attitude towards Finland itself: Finland was part of the Kingdom of Sweden for 600 years. But later, and especially during the Cold War, Sweden’s interest in the status of the Swedish language in Finland also became part of Sweden’s foreign policy strategy. Supporting the position of the Swedish language and Swedish culture in Finland was one way of tying Finland to the other Nordic countries. The Nordic countries themselves played an important role in the language question from the mid-­1930s until the end of the Cold War. Despite having very different starting ­points – ­Norway, Denmark and Iceland belonged to NATO and Sweden and Finland were neutral c­ ountries – t­ he idea of the Nordic Balance helped them all to position themselves among the superpowers. It is important to note that the Nordic Balance required more than the individual interests of states. The Nordic countries were united precisely through their common history, social systems and culture. The Nordic press and the Swedish state were interested in the status of

The Quest for Neutrality  •  127

the Swedish language in Finland because of this connection created by language and culture. In other words, supporting the Swedish language in Finland was one part of creating a common Nordic culture. In the case of Sweden, this meant, in real terms, that the Swedish press followed the language question in Finland and wrote about it whenever the Swedish language was under threat there. The UD also followed the situation closely: archival sources show that the ministry sometimes approached the Swedish press, asking it to write on pertinent language issues. In contrast, according to current knowledge, direct Swedish diplomatic influence on Finnish language solutions cannot be found. The Swedish state’s interest in the Finnish language issue can be understood because by tying Finland ­culturally – w ­ ith the help of the Swedish language and Finnish-­Swedish c­ ulture – ­to the other Nordic countries, the Nordic countries’ weight increased as a whole. This, in turn, was one major factor in Sweden’s way of maintaining peace. Supporting Finland’s Swedish-­speaking culture was also one e­xcellent – a­lbeit ­soft – w ­ ay to gain Soviet approval and to encourage Russia to recognize Finland as one of the Nordic countries. This, too, fits perfectly with Sweden’s 200-­year foreign policy, where one of the main principles has been a peaceful relationship with, first Russia, and later the Soviet Union. After the end of the Cold War, interest in Nordic cooperation clearly decreased in Sweden as well as in the other Nordic countries. There are two explanations for this. First, in 1995 Sweden and Finland joined the European Union, which shifted the political focus towards the European continent and Brussels. Second, there was the end of the Cold War and its implications for geopolitics. When the Soviet Union disintegrated, the threat from the East diminished significantly; at the same time, the idea of the Nordic Balance also lost its relevance and the desire to emphasize a common Nordic culture diminished. The crisis in Ukraine that began in 2014 has brought new importance to bilateral relations between Sweden and Finland. This has been concretely reflected, for example, in the form of cooperation on defence. What role the Swedish language will play in relations between the countries in the future remains to be seen. Perhaps the most important question is how the growing threat from the East will affect the security situation in the Baltic Sea region. Janne Väistö gained his PhD from the Department of Nordic History, Åbo Akademi University, Finland, in 2017. He writes on different aspects of (Finnish) national language policy in the Cold War context. He has been a visiting researcher in Sweden (Stockholm University). His recent

128 • Janne Väistö

research focuses on relationships between national language policy and foreign policy.

Notes  1. Max Engman, Språkfrågan – Finlandssvenskhetens uppkomst 1812–1922 (Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 2016), 11–14; Petri Karonen, Pohjoinen suurvalta – Ruotsi ja Suomi 1521–1809 (Juva: WSOY, 1999), 419–422; Antero Jyränki, Suurvaltojen välissä – Suomen sata vuotta (Helsinki: Art House, 2017), 14– 19.  2. Krister Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt – Finlandsfrågan i svensk politik 1809–2009 (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2011), 119–130; Seppo Hentilä, Christian Krötzl and Panu Pulma, Pohjoismaiden historia (Helsinki: Edita, 2002), 239–248; Erik Lönnroth, Den Svenska utrikespolitikens historia (Stockholm: Norstedt, 1959), 9–29.   3. See, for example, Timo Soikkanen, Kansallinen eheytyminen – Myytti vai todellisuus? (Juva: Turun yliopisto, 1984), 8–23; Seppo Hentilä, Suomen poliittinen historia (Juva: WSOY, 1996), 125–130.   4. See for example Olof Kronvall, Den bräckliga barriären (Stockholm: Försvarshögskolan, 2003), 13–17; Wilhelm Agrell, ‘Finis Finlandie’ in Tapani Suominen (ed.), Itsekkyyttä vai valtiomiestaitoa (Helsinki: Tammi, 2002), 243–266.   5. See for example Henrik Meinander, Nationalstaten – Finlands svenskhet 1922–2015 (Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 2016) 39–43; Soikkanen, Kansallinen eheytyminen, 63–69; Kari Selén, Genevestä Tukholmaan (Helsinki: Suomen historiallinen seura, 1974), 228–234; Jorma Kallenautio, Suomi katsoi eteensä (Helsinki: Tammi, 1985), 91–97, 114–119. It must be said that of course the Soviet Union was a security threat to Finland. But the fact that as a result of the war the border between Finland and the Soviet Union shifted about 150 kilometers west of Leningrad meant that Finland was also seen as a security threat to the Soviet Union.  6. Janne Väistö, Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa (Åbo: Åbo Akademis förlag, 2017), 57–60; Hannu Heikkilä, ‘ Heikkilä, Hannu, ’Sotakorvausten raskas taakka’, in Tuomo Polvinen (ed.), J.K. Paasikivi: Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 4 1944–1948 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1999), 48–53; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 124–139.   7. Swedish, Danish and Norwegian are similar languages.  8. Kallenautio, Suomi katsoi eteensä, 30–39, 86–91; Lönnroth, Den Svenska utrikespolitikens historia, 62–70.  9. Lönnroth, Den Svenska utrikespolitikens historia, 30–40, 53–54; Kallenautio, Suomi katsoi eteensä, 97–113; Selén, Genevestä Tukholmaan, 14–30. 10. Kallenautio, Suomi katsoi eteensä, 144–152. 11. Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 107–118; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 15–19; Kallenautio, Suomi katsoi eteensä, 144–152. 12. Soikkanen, Kansallinen eheytyminen, 24–31, 48–56; Selén, Genevestä Tukholmaan, 144–164; Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 131–141. 13. Genuine Finnishness was a Finnish movement that emerged after Finland gained independence as a way to preserve Finland’s national culture and language, its national integrity and a genuine sense of national pride.

The Quest for Neutrality  •  129

14. Pekka Kalevi Hämäläinen, Kielitaistelu Suomessa 1917–1939 (Porvoo: WSOY, 1968), 86–98; Soikkanen, Kansallinen eheytyminen, 123–128; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 54–60. 15. Hämäläinen, Kielitaistelu Suomessa 1917–1939, 98–113; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 43–54. 16. Olof Mustelin, De nordiska universitetsadresserna 1934 (Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 1981). 17. See for example Tuomo Polvinen, J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 2 (Juva: WSOY, 1992), 430–451. 18. Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 132–136, 414–419; Hentilä et al., Pohjoismaiden historia, 284–292; Kallenautio, Suomi katsoi eteensä 113–119. 19. Polvinen, J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 2, 430–451; Max Jakobson, Veteen piirretty viiva (Helsinki: Otava, 1981), 42–51. 20. Hämäläinen, Kielitaistelu Suomessa 1917–1939, 250–266; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 50–61; Soikkanen, Kansallinen eheytyminen, 63–69. 21. Polvinen, J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 2, 430–451; Jakobson, Veteen piirretty viiva, 42–51. 22. Report from the embassy of Stockholm, ambassador Paasikivi no. 1 ‘Mieliala Ruotsissa Suomeen nähden ja Suomen kielikysymys’, 1  February 1937. 5 C 2, Ulkoministeriön arkisto (UM), Helsinki; See also Mikko Majander, Pohjoismaa vai kansandemokratia? – Sosiaalidemokraatit, kommunistit ja Suomen kansainvälinen asema 1944–51 (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2004), 247–248; Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 155; Tuomo Polvinen, Hannu Heikkilä and Hannu Immonen, J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 4 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1999), 28–32; Tuomo Polvinen, J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 3 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1995), 319–322; and Meinander, Nationalstaten, 130–131, 142–144. 23. Juhana Aunesluoma, Vapaakaupan tiellä – Suomen kauppa- ja integraatiopolitiikka maailmansodista EU-aikaan (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2011), 93–94; Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 217; Heikkilä, ‘Sotakorvausten raskas taakka’, 48–53; Majander, Pohjoismaa vai kansandemokratia?, 68–69. 24. At the 2019 rate, about 1.8 billion SEK. 25. Heikkilä, ‘Sotakorvausten raskas taakka’, 48–53; Majander, Pohjoismaa vai kansandemokratia?, 68–69. 26. See for example Kronvall, Den bräckliga barriären, 19–28, 62–74, 85–127; Rusi Alpo, Vasemmalta ohi – Kamppailu Suomen ulkopoliittisesta johtajuudesta rautaesiripun varjossa 1945–1990 (Jyväskylä: Gummerus, 2007), 33–53, 60–86; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 206–211; and Agrell, ‘Finis Finlandie’ in Tapani Suominen (ed.), 243–266. 27. Meinander, Nationalstaten, 200–201; Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 297–306. 28. Meinander, Nationalstaten, 201–204. 29. Meinander, Nationalstaten, 104–108; Majander, Pohjoismaa vai kansandemokratia?, 303–307. 30. Ingemar Hägglöf, Dagbok från Salutorget (Helsinki: Söderström, 1990), 20, 50, 57–59. See for example Timo Soikkanen, Presidentin ministeriö – Ulkoasiainhallinto ja ulkopolitiikan hoito Kekkosen kaudella (Hämeenlinna: Ulkoasiainministeriö, 2003), 321–322; Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 311–312. 31. Esko Salminen, Vaikeneva valtiomahti? (Helsinki: Edita, 1996), 31–40, 251–261; Esko Salminen, Aselevosta kaappaushankkeeseen – Sensuuri ja itsesensuuri Suomen lehdistössä 1944–1948 (Keuruu: Otava, 1979), 79–88; and Timo Vihavainen, Kansakunta rähmällään – Suomettumisen lyhyt historia (Keuruu: Otava, 1991), 38.

130 • Janne Väistö

32. Krister Wahlbäck, Urho Kekkonen valtiomiehenä – Ruotsalainen näkökulma (Paasikivi-­ Seuran monistesarja no. 98) (Helsinki, 1990). 33. Wahlbäck, Urho Kekkonen valtiomiehenä. 34. See for example Bengt Kummel, Svenskar i all världen förenen eder! – Vilhelm Lundström och den allsvenska rörelsen (Åbo: Åbo Akademi, 1994), 152–155, 164–169, 190–192; Lennart Limberg, ‘Med Vilhelm Lundström i ledningen, åren 1908 till 1923’, in Lennart Limberg (ed.), Internationell Nationalism: Riksföreningen 100 år (Göteborg: Riksföreningen Sverigekontakt, 2008), 41–76. 35. No. 71, ‘Inter-­Scandinavian relations’, 12 July 1945. Enclosure on No. 17, Chapter VII, Finland, Further Correspondence respecting Northern Affairs, Part 16, October to December 1945, Foreign Office, National Archives, Kew. 36. Mr Shepherd No. 84, ‘Position of the Finno-­Swedes in Finland’, 15  June 1945. Enclosure on No. 17, Chapter II, Finland, Further Correspondence respecting Northern Affairs, Part 14, April to June 1945, Foreign Office, National Archives, Kew. 37. HP 21 Af, Frågor rörande nationella minoriteters ställning i Finland [Questions concerning the position of national minorities in Finland]. Until 1974; dossiers Hp 21 Af (Frågor: nationella minoriteters ställning. Finland) are freely available to researchers. The author has accessed material from the Regeringskansliet up to 1996. However, the materials are incomplete because the references to foreign authorities have been removed. The comments of Finnish politicians are partially censored. 38. Väistö, Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa, 105–121. 39. Polvinen, J. K. Paasikivi, 62–66; Veli-­ Matti Autio and Markku Heikkilä, Opetusministeriön historia V: Jälleenrakennuksen ja kasvun kulttuuripolitiikkaa 1945– 1965 (Helsinki: Opetusministeriö, 1990), 111–114; Göran von Bonsdorff, Krigstid och återuppbyggnad – Svenska Folkpartiet 1939–1956 (Helsinki: Svenska folkpartiet, 1994), 239–241; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 108–110, 122–125. 40. Väistö, Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa, 63–67, 82–87; Moniste 1954: 33, Oppikoulun sisäisen kehittämisen yleissuunnitelma, Vuoden 1950 oppikoulukomitean työvaliokunnan mietintö ja neuvottelukunnan siitä antama lausunto. 41. Svenska Dagbladet, 25 September 1952. 42. Report from Embassy of Helsinki, Lindqvist no. 309, ‘Undervisningen i svenska i de finska läroverken’, 9  October 1952. HP 1 D, Beskickningsarkiv Helsingfors, Stockholm. . 43. For example, Hufvudstadsbladet, 2 December 1954; Västra Nyland, 2 December 1954. 44. Report from the embassy of Helsinki, ambassador Engzell, no. 1039, ‘Svenska språkets ställning i Finland’, 3  December 1954. HP 1 D, Beskickningsarkiv Helsingfors, Stockholm . 45. J.K. Paasikivi, J. K. Paasikiven päiväkirjat 1944–1956 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1985), 860 (6 November 1954). Original Finnish text: ‘Sanoin: Kaikki, mikä koskee ruotsin kieltä ja ruotsalaista vähemmistöä, sivuaa ulkopolitiikkaa. Meillä ei ole varaa heikontaa suhteita Ruotsiin. Siihen vaikuttaa ruotsalaisen vähemmistön asema Suomessa. On tärkeää, että goodwill Ruotsissa ja pohjoismaissa ja sen kautta koko länsimaailmassa säilytetään ja sitä vahvistetaan. . . . Tämä kaikki koskee ulkopoliittisia suhteita ja sen tähden presidentin toimialaa. Minä en tule tässä suhteessa antamaan perään niin kauan kuin olen presidenttinä. Kekkonen sanoi olevansa samaa mieltä.’ (Translation J.V.) 46. Majander, Pohjoismaa vai kansandemokratia?, 247–248; Wahlbäck, Jättens andedräkt, 155; Meinander, Nationalstaten, 130–131, 142–144.

The Quest for Neutrality  •  131

47. Väistö, Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa, 282–284. 48. See, for example, Göteborgs-Posten, ‘Finsk isolering?’, 24 December 1967; Berlingske Aftenavis, ‘Finlands andet sprog’, 28 December 1967; Kristeligt Dagblad, ‘Ulykkelig sprogstrid’, 2  January 1968; Väistö, Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa, 183–187. 49. The Nordic Balance was a Cold War concept developed by Arne Olav Brundtland in the 1960s. It consisted of three defining parts. First: Norway and Denmark would not allow NATO bases and nuclear weapons on their territory in peacetime. Second: Sweden would act as a neutral balancer at the centre of the Nordic region. Third: although Finland had a Friendship, Co-­operation and Mutual Assistance Treaty with the Soviet Union, it would not engage in peacetime military exercises with the Red Army. The mechanism of the Cold War Nordic Balance was simple. If the Soviet Union were to tighten its grip on Finland, then Norway and Denmark would welcome permanent NATO bases and allow nuclear weapons on their territory. And, vice versa, if NATO were to increase its presence in Norway and Denmark, Moscow would tighten its grip on Finland. Both sides therefore refrained from making such moves. 50. Väistö, Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa, 183–187. 51. Ibid. 52. A press release prepared by Chief of Staff Sten Sundfeldt was sent to the following newspapers: Dagens Nyheter (Stockholm), Skånska Dagbladet (Malmö), Svenska Dagbladet (Stockholm), Aftonbladet (Tukholma), Expressen (Stockholm), Norrländska Socialdemokraten (Boden), Arbetarbladet (Gävle), Norrköpingstidning (Norrköping), Vestmanlands Läns Tidning (Västerås), Östgöta Correspondenten (Linköping), Barometern (Kalmar), Arbetet (Malmö), Kvällsposten (Malmö), SDS (Malmö), Göteborgs handels- och sjöfartstidning (Göteborg), Göteborgs-posten (Göteborg) and Göteborgs-tidningen (Göteborg). Letter from Sten Sundfeldt to journalists in the Swedish press: ‘Den finska s­ kolreformen – ­språkfrågan’, 11 December 1967. I 38 A (Undervisning, vetenskap och konst i utlandet. Allm. lagstiftning, statistik) 1963–68, Utrikesdepartementets arkiv (UD), Stockholm. 53. Sverker Åström, Ögonblick – Från ett halvsekel i UD-tjänst (Stockholm: Bonnier Alba, 1992), 43. Original Swedish text: ‘Ett omistligt hjälpmedel i vårt samarbete är Finlands tvåspråkighet. Att svenskan bevaras i utbildning och offentligt liv är ett vitalt intresse för Norden, Sverige och, tror jag, Finland’. (Translation J.V.) 54. Before the language solution for comprehensive schools in the 1960s, the Swedish language was a mandatory subject in Finnish grammar schools.

Bibliography Agrell, Wilhelm. ‘Finis Finlandie’, in Tapani Suominen (ed.), Itsekkyyttä vai valtiomiestaitoa (Helsinki: Tammi, 2002). Åström, Sverker. Ögonblick – Från ett halvsekel i UD-tjänst (Stockholm: Bonnier Alba, 1992). Aunesluoma, Juhana. Vapaakaupan tiellä – Suomen kauppa- ja integraatiopolitiikka maailmansodista EU-aikaan (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2011). Autio, Veli-­Matti and Heikkilä Markku. Opetusministeriön historia V: Jälleenrakennuksen ja kasvun kulttuuripolitiikkaa 1945–1965 (Helsinki: Opetusministeriö, 1990).

132 • Janne Väistö

Berlingske Aftenavis. ‘Finlands andet sprog’, 28 December 1967. Engman, Max. Språkfrågan – Finlandssvenskhetens uppkomst 1812–1922 (Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 2016). Göteborgs-Posten. ‘Finsk isolering?’, 24 December 1967. Hägglöf, Ingemar. Dagbok från Salutorget (Helsinki: Söderström, 1990). Hämäläinen, Kalevi Pekka. Kielitaistelu Suomessa 1917–1939 (Porvoo, WSOY, 1968). Heikkilä, Hannu. ’Sotakorvausten raskas taakka’, in Tuomo Polvinen (ed.), J.K. Paasikivi: Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 4 1944–1948 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1999). Hentilä, Seppo. Suomen poliittinen historia (Juva: WSOY, 1996). Hentilä, Seppo, Christian Krötzl and Panu Pulma. Pohjoismaiden historia (Helsinki: Edita, 2002). Hufvudstadsbladet. 2 December 1954. Jakobson, Max. Veteen piirretty viiva (Helsinki: Otava, 1981). Jyränki, Antero. Suurvaltojen välissä – Suomen sata vuotta (Helsinki: Art House, 2017). Kallenautio, Jorma. Suomi katsoi eteensä (Helsinki: Tammi, 1985). Karonen, Petri. Pohjoinen suurvalta – Ruotsi ja Suomi 1521–1809 (Juva: WSOY, 1999). Kristeligt Dagblad. ‘Ulykkelig sprogstrid’, 2 January 1968. Kronvall, Olof. Den bräckliga barriären (Stockholm: Försvarshögskolan, 2003). Kummel, Bengt. Svenskar i all världen förenen eder! – Vilhelm Lundström och den allsvenska rörelsen (Åbo: Åbo Akademi, 1994). Limberg, Lennart. ‘Med Vilhelm Lundström i ledningen, åren 1908 till 1923’, in Lennart Limberg (ed.), Internationell Nationalism. Riksföreningen 100 år (Göteborg: Riksföreningen Sverigekontakt, 2008), 41–76. Lönnroth, Erik. Den Svenska utrikespolitikens historia (Stockholm: Norstedt, 1959). Majander, Mikko. Pohjoismaa vai kansandemokratia? – Sosiaalidemokraatit, kommunistit ja Suomen kansainvälinen asema 1944–51 (Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, 2004). Meinander, Henrik. Nationalstaten – Finlands svenskhet 1922–2015 (Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 2016). Moniste 1954: 33. Oppikoulun sisäisen kehittämisen yleissuunnitelma, Vuoden 1950 oppikoulukomitean työvaliokunnan mietintö ja neuvottelukunnan siitä antama lausunto. Mustelin, Olof. De nordiska universitetsadresserna 1934 (Helsinki: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 1981). Paasikivi, J.K. J. K. Paasikiven päiväkirjat 1944–1956 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1985). Polvinen, Tuomo. J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 2 (Juva: WSOY, 1992). _______. J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 3 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1995). Polvinen, Tuomo, Hannu Heikkilä and Hannu Immonen. J. K. Paasikivi – Valtiomiehen elämäntyö 4 (Helsinki: WSOY, 1999). Rusi, Alpo, Vasemmalta ohi – Kamppailu Suomen ulkopoliittisesta johtajuudesta rautaesiripun varjossa 1945–1990 (Jyväskylä: Gummerus, 2007). Salminen, Esko. Aselevosta kaappaushankkeeseen – Sensuuri ja itsesensuuri Suomen lehdistössä 1944–1948 (Keuruu: Otava, 1979). _______. Vaikeneva valtiomahti? (Helsinki: Edita, 1996). Selén, Kari. Genevestä Tukholmaan (Helsinki: Suomen historiallinen seura, 1974). Soikkanen, Timo. Kansallinen eheytyminen – Myytti vai todellisuus? (Juva: Turun yliopisto, 1984). _______. Presidentin ministeriö – Ulkoasiainhallinto ja ulkopolitiikan hoito Kekkosen kaudella (Hämeenlinna: Ulkoasiainministeriö, 2003).

The Quest for Neutrality  •  133

Svenska Dagbladet. 25 September 1952. Väistö, Janne. Toinen kotimainen toisen tasavallan Suomessa (Åbo: Åbo Akademis förlag, 2017). Västra Nyland. 2 December 1954. Vihavainen, Timo. Kansakunta rähmällään – Suomettumisen lyhyt historia (Keuruu: Otava, 1991). von Bonsdorff, Göran. Krigstid och återuppbyggnad – Svenska Folkpartiet 1939–1956 (Helsinki: Svenska folkpartiet, 1994). Wahlbäck, Krister. Urho Kekkonen valtiomiehenä – Ruotsalainen näkökulma (Paasikivi-­ Seuran monistesarja no. 98) (Helsinki, 1990). _______. Jättens andedräkt – Finlandsfrågan i svensk politik 1809–2009 (Stockholm: Atlantis, 2011).

Chapter 6

No Peace without Equality

The ‘North-­South Conflict’ and Its Effects on Sweden, the Netherlands and West Germany Christopher Seiberlich

R Introduction Speaking to the United Nations General Assembly in 1970, Sweden’s prime minister, Olof Palme, outlined a ‘strategy for peace or more accurately a strategy for survival’ which consisted of five elements: intensifying disarmament, introducing new initiatives relating to southern ­Africa – ­which meant supporting anticolonial struggles and opposing a­ partheid – ­promoting human rights, halting the destruction of the environment and, most fundamentally, fighting inequalities within and between countries: ‘the enormous differences in social and economic conditions between rich and poor, nations as well as individuals, must be bridged. The success or failure of the Second Development Decade will have a substantial importance for the possibilities of safeguarding international peace and security’.1 According to Palme, conflicts arise where poverty and hardship are most pressing. A comprehensive peace strategy, therefore, must include policies addressing inequality.2 At a time when the politics of international peace and security remained focused on the East-­West divide, this assertion was remarkable, contributing to Palme’s (and by extension Sweden’s) (self-)image as a staunch advocate of international solidarity. In 1970, ideas of an ‘active foreign policy’ and of neutrality underpinned with an overtly moral rhetoric were innovative, affirming Sweden’s self-­ conception as a cautious bridge builder and creating the conditions for its expanded commitment to international politics.3

No Peace without Equality  •  135

Palme, like the German chancellor Willy Brandt, is often seen as an innovator in foreign policy. However, although the importance of both of these politicians in spreading new ideas can hardly be denied, their contributions were actually less original than is generally believed.4 A comparative approach to the historical situation shows that politicians in other countries pursued similar projects. As this chapter argues, the belief that equality was a necessary condition for durable peace was widely shared among social democrats in Europe. This chapter thus questions the idea that Sweden acted as an exceptional advocate of peace, and re-­examines the new politics that the Swedish government actually participated in and developed from conceptions of international peace that were already in the process of change. In order to understand to what extent, or even whether, Sweden’s stance on peace politics was exceptional, I will compare the conceptions and politics of peace that the social democratic parties and left-­wing governments of Sweden, the Netherlands and the Federal Republic of Germany developed from the late 1960s onwards.5 These countries are useful examples because their respective governments, under Olof Palme, Joop den Uyl and Willy Brandt, set their countries on a new path in foreign policy, specifically one in which the Global South featured prominently.6 They were actually part of a larger reorientation of foreign policy by which social democratic governments tried to redefine their own countries’ position in the world. Thanks to a wave of electoral successes from 1969 onwards, social democratic governments suddenly gained influence over international politics and discourses. Sweden could rely on a long tradition of social democracy when Palme became prime minister in 1969, while Brandt became the first social democratic chancellor of the Federal Republic in 1969, and den Uyl’s PvdA Dutch Labour Party, which came to power in 1973, had not been in office since 1958. West Germany is usually considered to have been an emerging global economic power at the time, which supposedly refused most of the demands from the Global South. Sweden and the Netherlands, by ­contrast – ­the former a neutral country, the latter a NATO member with a colonial ­past – ­enjoyed and cultivated their reputation as ‘darlings of the Global South’, and saw themselves as ‘model countries’.7 Finally, neutral Sweden and the divided Germany regarded themselves as more directly involved in the East-­West conflict than the Netherlands. Around 1970, foreign policy makers saw a rapidly changing world that was characterized by what they saw as a new ‘interdependence’ of countries, and by détente, decolonization and the end of the Bretton Woods system.8 As the post-­war international order seemed to be unravelling, countries were searching for new strategies to respond to this profound

136 • Christopher Seiberlich

upheaval. If the fates of distant world regions were now becoming closely intertwined, concepts of peace and security would have to be reconsidered. In an official declaration on its foreign policy of 1974 (Rijksbegroting), the Dutch government stated that it understood ‘the promotion of peace, security, the global legal order, the fair distribution of wealth and respect for fundamental human rights as one major, coherent mission, in which it is no longer possible to make any fundamental distinction between national and international efforts’.9 Security, both national and international, was no longer seen solely as a question of military strength, even though a strong defence continued to be prominent in these discussions, especially in neutral Sweden. Even though traditional forms of peace policy and détente continued to matter, the understanding of peace became more nuanced. Military aspects were complemented by questions of (world) economy, population control and energy ­supply – ­especially in the wake of the ‘oil crisis’ of 1973/­74 – ­or considerations of the limited amounts of natural resources.10 And now equality was at least as important as military balance and economic stability to many in the various social democratic parties. In rethinking their peace policies, social democrats were at the forefront of those voices in the 1970s which highlighted the waste of material and intellectual resources in the arms race and the consequent lack of funds for development initiatives.11 This chapter is a study of the foreign policy and political decision-­making of three governments, Sweden, the Netherlands and West Germany, and especially the social democratic parties that led them during the 1970s. It is based on government declarations, strategy papers, internal discussions and international speeches and is supplemented by a close examination of international social democratic exchanges, mainly within the Socialist International (SI). The aim is to demonstrate how social democratic politicians adapted and transformed international debates about peace and development and integrated the idea of global equality into their political rhetoric, creating a specific understanding of ways to achieve and protect peace, especially in the fledgling field of North-­South politics.12 Conflicts over the establishment of a New International Economic Order (NIEO) and the support of ‘liberation movements’ in southern Africa arose at that time. The chapter traces the origins of these new ideas and re-­evaluates the often stated exceptional nature of the Swedish role in peace politics. I argue that the integration of the efforts to achieve equality and social justice by the various social democratic parties should be understood most accurately as a left-­wing spin on wider debates about the changing nature of foreign politics in the 1970s.13

No Peace without Equality  •  137

Towards International Welfare? The Social Dimension of Development and a New International Economic Order The Swedish governmental declaration on foreign policy in 1973 stated that ‘social misery in the developing countries and the growing gap between rich and poor countries involves instability in international relations’. Development policy, from this perspective, was not only conceptualized as a ‘manifestation of solidarity’ but also as a ‘peacekeeping task’.14 The Swedish government’s decision to focus on the social dimensions of development and to merge solidarity and peacekeeping was partly rooted in the reorientation of development norms that occurred in the UN at the same time. While the Pearson Report of 1969 was a rather cautious step away from purely growth-­oriented goals that only mentioned the interconnection between development and peace, security and stability, the UN strategy for the Second Development Decade explicitly voiced a new understanding of development. Disparities in the world, it was thought, would aggravate international tensions.15 The strategy document outlined that ‘development is the essential path to peace and justice’; supporting UN internationalism, social democrats adopted this new conviction that socially just development was a vital path to peace. Drawing on history, West German social democrats especially framed North-­South issues as ‘the international social question of the 20th century’.16 Now that they were also being pushed by decolonized countries, development politics and the North-­South divide gained prominence in the international realm, paving the way for discussions on global inequality from the 1960s onwards.17 The declaration on the establishment of a New International Economic Order by the United Nations in 1974 became a central point of reference for social democrats seeking to connect international equality, peace and justice. Couched in the very general tone of UN resolutions, the declaration outlined that overcoming injustices and inequalities and reducing the wealth gap between rich and poor countries were necessary steps towards a peaceful and just future.18 UN debates, particularly at the UN Conferences on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), and in international studies like the Tinbergen Report, provided social democrats with an important impetus.19 The understanding of peace taking shape in these d ­ ebates – ­framing peace as more than the mere absence of ­war – ­also introduced innovative concepts of peace research, most prominently those developed by the Norwegian social scientist Johan Galtung. His ideas of ‘structural violence’ – which he defined as the systematic and avoidable impair-

138 • Christopher Seiberlich

ments of life which included discrimination, malnutrition and insufficient ­education – ­and ‘positive peace’ were perfectly consistent with the new views disseminated among foreign policy experts. In the end, they became different words for social (in)justice.20 Not limited to incorporating these debates into their worldview, social democrats also expressed their sensitivity to the new conceptions of peace going forward. When they lined up behind the belief that growth-­oriented development policies alone were insufficient and needed to be combined with policies for social progress and justice, they expanded their domestic priorities and turned to thinking about shaping societies internationally. They outlined these international recommendations along national lines through various political arenas such as coalition governments, social movements and other foreign policy aims. From the 1960s onwards, internal factors intersected with international changes and accelerated the reorientation of social democratic foreign policy. Internationalist movements, such as anti-­apartheid groups, protests against the Vietnam War or solidarity groups, were particularly influential in Sweden and the Netherlands. Criticism from young party m ­ embers – ­who sometimes had a background in social movements t­hemselves – ­put pressure on the cabinets as well. According to an article by the social democratic politician Birgitta Dahl, for example, Swedish development aid should not come from charity and should not be given to countries with feudal structures, like Ethiopia.21 Responding both to domestic criticism and to UN strategy papers, Sweden’s development policy began to change fundamentally, albeit incrementally, between 1968 and 1972. Gradually, recipients of aid were chosen according to their efforts to overcome ‘development-­inhibiting structures’ within their economies and societies. As a result, socialist countries like Cuba, Tanzania, Chile and Vietnam became major beneficiaries.22 The West German government, too, adopted progressive and potentially far-­reaching principles to guide its development politics in 1971. However, the implementation of these measures was impeded by quarrels about funding and by internecine struggles over competency between the foreign ministry, the ministry for economic cooperation and the ministry of finance.23 When Helmut Schmidt, an expert in economics and defence, succeeded Willy Brandt as chancellor in 1974, development cooperation was on even shakier ground.24 Shortly afterwards, the real driving force behind the new development programme, the minister of cconomic cooperation Erhard Eppler, resigned due to personal animosities and because of cuts in his ministry’s budget in the aftermath of the first ‘oil crisis’. Although West Germany continued to pursue the safeguarding of peace by promoting economic and social progress, Schmidt’s government was

No Peace without Equality  •  139

constantly under attack by development politicians such as Eppler or Uwe Holtz. Holtz stigmatized the staunch opponents of international economic control in his government as ‘market economy’s guardians of public morals’ (Sittenwächter der Marktwirtschaft).25 A far-­reaching memorandum for development cooperation, which included support for massive transfers of resources and a sympathetic attitude towards the restructuring of the global economy, put forward by Social Democratic Party (SPD) members in 1977, was accepted by the party convention but barely made it into the government’s ‘theses on cooperation with the developing countries’ two years later.26 This example highlights the difficulties of incorporating a single party’s political line into a coalition’s governmental policy. The Dutch government under Joop den Uyl resolutely broke with the idea that development was commensurate with economic growth. Considering the social dimension of development, den Uyl’s cabinet pointed out that growth needed to be combined with structural change and distribution.27 The redirection of development politics, the establishment of a human rights policy, the democratization of NATO and the determination to fight the North-­South divide, were the main pillars of the cabinet’s new stance. In addition, the government considered social justice and equality to be the fundamental basis of a durable peace.28 Deeply influenced by a New Left morality, social protest and the church, the cabinet concentrated its foreign policy on extending social justice to the international sphere.29 Referring to the NIEO, Jan Pronk, who had been Dutch minister for development cooperation between 1973 and 1977, wrote in 1978 that ‘nothing provokes more violence than the lack of perspectives for a better future’. If poor and unemployed people were lacking hope for improvement, he believed, ‘violence enters the international stage. Thus, it is in the interest of mankind, including the rich minorities, to change the present order and give a chance to the masses of the Third World who are plagued by poverty’.30 The international secretary of the Dutch social democrats, Harry van den Bergh, suggested initiating a debate about the ‘North-­South dialogue’ within the Socialist International to Bernt Carlsson, secretary-­general of the SI, in January 1977. ‘We [the PvdA] feel that the socialist parties have a specific responsibility binging [sic] forward positive results of this dialogue’. High-­level experts from all SI members should provide new impulses to energize the stagnating talks of the Conference on International Economic Cooperation (CIEC) in Paris that could discuss the ‘North-­South conflict’, van den Bergh believed.31 The conviction that the social dimensions of development were an integral element of maintaining peace was on all of the social democratic parties’ minds, but only Sweden and the Netherlands succeeded in permanently implementing a new, comprehensive development policy and so

140 • Christopher Seiberlich

lend their support to demands for a NIEO. Despite the significant impact of social movements, only a few supporters of these ideas, such as Pronk or den Uyl, held strong positions within government, with the result that their political positions were consistent with those of their coalition partners, whereas others, like Eppler in West Germany, lacked such support.

International Market Economy and Equality Equality and a more just international economic order were obviously not the only concerns of social democrats. Even Sweden and the Netherlands hoped to establish trade relations with newly independent countries and so enhance their own position by reforming the international system.32 For the West German government, economic stability was a virtually inviolable principle, both as a consequence of its national economic interests and because politicians feared that an international economic crisis would threaten international peace.33 In their view, the market economy and free trade constituted the most effective ways to maintain this stability. Most social and liberal democrats in the government rejected international economic control, disavowing it as ‘dirigisme’.34 By contrast, Schmidt’s cabinet presented itself as the voice of reason in international economic negotiations.35 The fact that the Federal Republic was caught in an ongoing diplomatic struggle with its socialist German neighbour might also have fuelled its resistance to economic planning. Moreover, several ministry departments agreed in a position paper for the CIEC that due to the world economic crisis, the industrialized countries were already at the ‘limits of their capacity’ (Grenzen ihrer Leistungsfähigkeit) and that the functioning of the world economy should not be jeopardized. The government declared its will to cooperate within the ‘limits of its opportunities’: first, by focusing on the balance of interests with developing countries as an ‘element of securing peace’ (Element der Friedenssicherung); second, by proposing to refine the world economy based on a market economy, thereby sustaining the capacity of the industrialized countries. Furthermore, Schmidt’s government demanded that all countries share the burden and insisted that all agreements should be based on a quid-­pro-­quo principle. The position paper noted, moreover, that all industrialized countries except for the Netherlands and the northern ­countries – w ­ hich permitted themselves to be led by ‘moral considerations’ – would try to avoid ‘paying too dearly’.36 Schmidt’s focus on fighting inflation and unemployment and his desire to avoid a harsh critique of the present economic world order led to a confrontation with the social democratic Austrian chancellor, Bruno Kreisky, at the SI meeting in Geneva in 1976. Kreisky accused Schmidt of

No Peace without Equality  •  141

ignoring the new global realities and even of exporting unemployment to world regions that were far worse off.37 These disagreements did not readily disappear. In 1976, Schmidt’s federal chancellery (Bundeskanzleramt) criticized the SI’s ‘resolution on international economic solidarity’ in a letter to Brandt, then chairman of the SPD and president of the SI. The letter argued that it was not the ‘failure of market economy’ that had led to the present difficulties but the legacies of colonialism. This was undoubtedly a smart move, since the chancellery exploited an argument in its defence that was usually brought forward by the Global South. Schmidt implied that the resolution drew an unrealistic picture of the world economy, deluding developing countries by implying that economic equality could be reached earlier than was actually possible. This pessimistic forecast would prove accurate, even though contemporary critics blamed West Germany for stalling and impeding faster improvement through its reluctance. West Germany, however, argued that the promise of massive transfers of resources and redistribution in favour of the developing countries might spark a conflict of interests with employees in the industrialized countries who were social democracy’s core electorate.38 Brandt took a different position when he demanded reconsidering certain taboo subjects in 1978: ‘The term market economy is held by some as one of those alleged magic words to which one would like to cling in order to escape the realities in other regions’. At least internationally, it would be necessary to reassess these ‘sacred cows’ in order to achieve a ‘degree of justice as great as possible’.39 Brandt referred to Germany’s own history: its experiences with the empowerment of workers proved that the entire society had benefited from protecting and strengthening its weaker parts. Similar arguments could be found in Sweden, where the development of the Global South was compared to Sweden’s path ‘from a developing country to an industrialised country’.40 In West Germany, pronouncements on the need to act were often combined with references to the disastrous effects of high unemployment and inflation in the Weimar Republic, particularly during the Great Depression.41 These historical references created a sense of belonging, but more importantly they were a tool for understanding international politics and reducing the world’s complexity. Thus, these parallels could be used to gain support for North-­ South politics in each country and party. In addition, social democrats drew on the argument for ‘common interests’ in the Global North and South. From the very beginning of his SI presidency (1976–1992), Brandt tried to convince those who were ‘resistant to morality and empathy’ to consider their own sound self-­ interests: ‘The rich nations will not stay rich, if the world’s poorhouses keep on growing’. In the long run, no one would be able to preserve their

142 • Christopher Seiberlich

privileges and standards by isolating themselves or by shutting their eyes. The same would apply for the international community, and therefore social democracy’s merits in improving society could teach an important lesson about how to stabilize international relations.42 The extension of the welfarist ideas in which Brandt engaged to the international sphere was typical of (left-­wing) social democrats in the 1970s.43 While their approaches differed, all three governments presented their policies as a contribution to peace. For the West German government, international peace rested on détente and economic stability. For the Swedish and Dutch governments, by contrast, the social and political dimensions of peace prevailed. This is not to say that economic considerations did not exist in these two countries, as the next section shows. Moving from the governmental level to party discussions, all social democratic parties strongly emphasized the importance of equality and social justice for peace. Alleviating the glaring inequalities within and among countries became a focal point of international social democratic thinking. Furthermore, the constant promotion of the fight against global inequality helped to ensure that the issue would retain an important place in discussions about the reshaping of the international order.

Equality Abroad and at Home Sharing the widespread perception that all countries were ‘interdependent’, and that their domestic and foreign policies were interconnected, the three governments concluded that their commitment to international equality and solidarity would have to correspond to a policy of equity and equality at home. This line of argument was especially prominent in the Swedish government. Swedish minister of trade, Carl Lidbom, called it a question of justice and credibility.44 Palme also stressed the need for social democratic countries to be suitably qualified and willing to take responsibility for social democracy in order to engage in these questions: ‘It is social democracy’s fundamental strength that it can view both domestic and international problems from the same perspective and the answer is called solidarity’.45 Speaking to the congress of the ‘Brotherhood movement’ (Broderskapsrörelsen), the organization of religious members of Swedish social democrats, in Piteå in 1974, Palme’s emotional appeal aimed to bolster his fellow party members’ moral beliefs. Undoubtedly, other social democratic parties also referred to their own internationalist tradition and self-­conception as parties of peace.46 Still, the strong parallels drawn between domestic and international ‘solidarity’ were most emblematic of the self-­conception of the Palme government.47 On the

No Peace without Equality  •  143

international level, Palme’s approach found its expression in a development policy that went far beyond the policies of most other countries, fulfilling the 1% aim of official development aid in the mid-­1970s; and this was not the only case when Sweden heeded UN recommendations. Similar policies can be found elsewhere, though restricted to Canada, the Netherlands and the other Scandinavian countries.48 However, ‘international solidarity’ and domestic labour market policies could not easily be harmonized. Governments often found themselves trapped in a dilemma, caught between ‘international solidarity’ on the one hand and the interests of employees at home on the other, the latter being an important part of their own core electorate. When government politicians mentioned ‘structural adjustment’ – not yet associated with deregulation and privatization, as it would be in the ­1980s – ­or the ‘opening of markets’, they were talking about nothing short of far-­reaching transformations or reductions of domestic industry and emerging competition from countries of the Global South. Inevitably, the West German government, prioritizing economic stability, control of inflation and low unemployment, was especially vigilant to ensure that North-­South policies did not endanger employment at home.49 The Swedish government was troubled by similar concerns, although it adopted a different rhetoric. In 1975, the Palme government introduced tariffs in order to support the shoe and textile industries, which had suffered steep reductions in prior years. These measures did not damage Sweden’s image in the Global South. However, the justification for the measures did provoke bitterness among Indian politicians, who mockingly observed that even ‘progressive Sweden’ insisted that a certain sector of Sweden’s textile industry was important for its ‘national defence’.50 The Dutch government focused on the redistribution of both power and property, since international and domestic inequality could not be isolated from each other. Its aim was to prevent those Dutchmen who were already disadvantaged economically or socially from becoming the first to suffer from extended development cooperation or the boost to the economies of the Global South.51 And so in December 1974 the government issued a memorandum proposing ways of harmonizing industrial adjustment and development policies. It suggested that those industries and corporations that furthered their own restructuring should be financially supported. This support would be partly financed via the developmental assistance budget, because developmental policy accelerated the need for restructuring and so the measures would benefit ‘developing countries’ as well. This strategy could only succeed if many industrialized countries cooperated, and this would hopefully avoid a situation where industries would be transferred from one industrialized country to another. Finally, the restructuring had

144 • Christopher Seiberlich

to be phased in along with the removal of trade barriers and tariffs if it was to be effective. The Swedish government monitored these steps closely, as an internal paper on the Swedish policy towards developing countries shows. Furthermore, the Dutch memorandum served as a guide for the Swedish delegation at the CIEC. The Netherlands and Norway were seen as the first two countries with comprehensive plans for industrial restructuring. Depending on their success, Sweden would follow these models.52 All three governments clearly confronted profound difficulties as they attempted to fulfil their aspirations of enacting solidary policies throughout the world without threatening employment and wealth at home. West Germany proved to be most preoccupied with its own economy and workers, while the Dutch government showed itself ready to accept the comparatively deepest cuts at home. Sweden, similar to the Netherlands in its declared position, tried to balance its comprehensive international commitment with its labour policy at home.

Liberation for Safeguarding Peace or Peaceful Liberation? Relations with Liberation Movements Following the rapid progress of decolonization after the late 1940s, the Portuguese colonies, the South African occupied Namibia and the white minority regimes in South Africa and Rhodesia were the largest remaining territories where self-­determination and majority rule were denied. Liberty, self-­determination and the fight against racism were seen as prerequisites for peace in these countries as well as for stable international relations.53 The social democratic governments believed that relations with the liberation movements were becoming increasingly important for a peaceful and democratic transition to self-government or majority rule, and for contributing to the construction of socially fair societies. Establishing these relations, however, complicated North-­South politics. The question of support for liberation movements intersected with at least three other threads of discussion. First, it touched on the countries’ positions in the East-­West conflict, on anti-­communist sentiments, and on the endeavour to keep the newly sovereign countries non-­aligned. In West Germany, the anxiety about supporting communist groups by mistake or of being accused of pro-­communist actions was acute. Reproaches from conservative politicians and the media could only confirm those fears. Uwe Holtz, a member of a SI fact-­finding mission to southern Africa, assured Brandt that he had personally seen to it that the mission’s report stressed the commitment to majority rule based on democratic

No Peace without Equality  •  145

principles and a strong emphasis on support for peaceful methods. He believed these requirements to be important for the decisions of the SI, as well as for the debates in West Germany.54 Second, economic interests weighed heavily on the decisions. As a corollary, the Swedish government hoped to establish economic ties for the future by proving its commitment to improving the conditions of people in the Global South through a progressive North-­South policy. Support for North Vietnam or opposition to Rhodesia, it believed, could even encourage the goodwill of countries that did not receive direct aid.55 The West German government obviously took the possible deterioration of economic relations into account while emphasizing that trade and politics should be kept separate. As a consequence, South Africa enjoyed a special status for a very long time. Commenting on a highly critical SI resolution on southern Africa, the West German government stressed that the extent of exports to South Africa would equal 70,000 workplaces at home.56 Third, all three governments engaged in intense discussions on the legitimacy of violence. From 1969 on, Sweden gave official assistance to anticolonial movements, especially in the Portuguese colonies.57 The Netherlands soon followed, but initially expressed its support more cautiously. From the beginning, the Dutch government sounded out the possibility of cooperating with Scandinavian governments when implementing its support.58 In the Federal Republic, however, even aid for a UNHCR-­supported refugee camp, in which potentially militant activists were finding shelter, was contentious. Marie Schlei, minister for economic cooperation and development, rather spontaneously pledged support for the camp during a visit to southern Africa in 1977, provoking outrage within conservative circles at home. The Christian Democratic developmental speaker Jürgen Todenhöfer (Christian Democratic Union, CDU) and the member of parliament Paul Röhner (Christian Social Union, CSU) criticized the government’s aid policy because they suspected that the camp was a training ground for terrorists in disguise. The discussion took on an increasingly acrimonious tone when Egon Bahr, one of Schlei’s predecessors and the main architect of Ostpolitik besides Brandt, regretted that West Germany could not directly support the liberation struggle in Rhodesia. Röhner accused Bahr of ‘unmistakable support of terror and bloodshed’. The beneficiaries of Bahr’s policy were, in Röhner’s eyes, communist guerrillas. In a sideswipe at Ostpolitik, he claimed that Bahr’s sympathy for violence would expose the government’s peace policy as hypocrisy.59 However, support for liberation movements was contested by the coalition partner, the FDP (Free Democratic Party), as well. In 1973, prominent SPD members like Erhard Eppler, Egon Bahr and Hans-­Jürgen Wischnewski provoked severe complaints from the liberal democratic

146 • Christopher Seiberlich

minister of foreign affairs, Walter Scheel, when they demanded a reorientation in the government’s policy towards southern Africa.60 Not even the SPD took a monolithic stance. While the party convention pledged support for liberation movements as early as 1973, the party executive insisted that only those groups in favour of ‘peaceful change’ were to be supported, lining up behind the government’s stance. The disagreements about how to deal with liberation movements kept on smouldering over the following years. In 1977, the party convention suggested providing direct support to liberation movements. When the government worked out guidelines for a development policy two years later, the one referring to liberation movements remained vague.61 These tense discussions indicate that support for liberation movements proved highly ambivalent, even contentious, in relation to the social democrats’ overriding aim to preserve peace. Social democrats emphasized that violence should only be the last resort if all other possibilities had been e­ xhausted – ­nonetheless, violence was accepted as a legitimate path for overcoming colonialism or minority rule. While a majority from each social democratic party endorsed support for liberation movements, and Sweden and the Netherlands actually implemented such support, the matter was highly sensitive in West Germany. This was due both to strong anti-­communist sentiments within the opposition and cautiousness about the SPD’s coalition partner, the FDP. Only the Dutch government reflected explicitly on this point of contention. Development policy and foreign policy could no longer be separated, but their aims could diverge. The will to improve the position of the Global South could run dangerously counter to aspirations for stability or the prevention of conflict. The injustices and inequalities in southern Africa were nevertheless mostly classified as so grave and fundamental that they were unbearable for the population and so were a threat to world peace. Therefore, the restricted use of violence was accepted in order to end discrimination and so pave the way for a better order that would guarantee peace. This recognition was also rooted in the fear that massive violence would become increasingly likely if apartheid or colonialism prevailed, and that any peace terms would be harsher the longer the suppression lasted.62 By claiming that peace was threatened, social democrats may also have been trying to sow the seeds of UN intervention according to chapter 7 of the UN ­Charter – ­be it via international sanctions, or, in the worst case, through a peace-­keeping mission.

No Peace without Equality  •  147

The Production and Uncertainty of Knowledge The three governments differed considerably in the degree of contact they maintained with liberation movements and the extent of the knowledge they acquired about them. The relations with the African Party for the Independence of Guinea and Cape Verde (PAIGC) of Guinea-­Bissau serve as an interesting case in point. PAIGC leader Amílcar Cabral enjoyed good connections with the SAP and repeatedly took part in party conventions. However, the PAIGC struggled to get approval for an official visit to Brandt and the SPD in 1975, even though it was Guinea-­Bissau’s ruling party at that time.63 While the SPD still lacked basic information about liberation movements in Rhodesia as late as 1976, Hans-­Jürgen Wischnewski, one of the SPD’s leading experts in this field, had maintained contact with FRELIMO (Liberation Front of Mozambique) activists for years.64 Nevertheless, the SAP and PvdA, who officially supported liberation movements, were able to count on sounder information.65 Knowledge about the movements often relied on personal contacts. Even the SI fact-­finding mission in 1977, led by then ex-­prime minister Palme, used connections that had been established by the parties or party members in the years before.66 Yet, although the fact-­finding mission produced very little new knowledge, it had two lasting effects: it strengthened the legitimacy of their contacts and knowledge by placing them on an allegedly more objective basis, and it disseminated knowledge among all SI-­member parties. Not everybody was happy with the resumption of older contacts, as the letter from Noel Gabriel Mukono, secretary for foreign affairs of one of the local movements, the Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU), to Palme shows. Mukono and ZANU felt disadvantaged because the SI had chosen to support the Patriotic Front and accept Robert Mugabe as ZANU representative to the Patriotic Front, and Mukono and ZANU did not recognize Mugabe as their envoy, accusing him of plotting and murder. They also warned the SI not to back the wrong people by relying on questionable recommendations from the ‘frontline states’. Finally, Mukono demanded that the SI should meet him in order to make its own judgment about whom to trust and support.67 Regarding peace in southern Africa, the fact-­finding mission diagnosed a fourfold threat: the consequences of apartheid in southern Africa itself, the aggression and threats of the Republic of South Africa against its neighbours, the minority regime’s intent to develop nuclear energy, and the potential global consequences of the situation in southern Africa. The mission claimed that the people of southern Africa would prefer to pursue peaceful means in their struggle to overcome external domination. However, in the face of brutal suppression and violence they had no other

148 • Christopher Seiberlich

option but to take up arms. Moreover, once armed conflict broke out, violence would not cease until the conflict itself ended. Consequently, accelerating ‘the process of liberation’ appeared to be a common responsibility in order to prevent massive violence and possibly even a war between the USA and the Soviet ­Union – ­and hence global conflagration. The SI’s resulting programme of action included the prevention of arms proliferation and the inflow of mercenaries, as well as precluding investment in South Africa and Namibia. It included the extension of support to the ‘frontline states’, encouraging regional cooperation, to liberation ­movements – ­namely the South African ANC, the Patriotic Front in Zimbabwe and the SWAPO in ­Namibia – ­and to the victims of apartheid. It also included the extension of support to churches, unions or other political and private organizations which worked for emancipation in southern Africa. Its own ‘work of solidarity’ would in this way be intensified.68 More than a few social democrats saw the ongoing struggle of liberation movements as a close parallel to their own past struggle for the emancipation of the working class.69 Thus, the question of support became a matter that touched upon their own identity. Olof Palme’s speech on Vietnam in the Swedish town of Gävle in 1965 provides a famous early example: But if you replace the geographical scale with a perspective in time, the picture [of the peasants in Vietnam nowadays and in Sweden in the early twentieth century] becomes very similar. It was essentially a utopia of the same kind that made the driving force for the pioneers of the worker’s movement. They dreamed that society could give dignity, bread, work and security.70

These and other parallels between social democracy’s historical experiences and the contemporary struggle of the anticolonial and liberation movements in southern Africa bolstered the justification for giving support based on moral or humanitarian reasons, the need for peace-­keeping and, to some extent, pursuing their own self-­interest. Social democrats claimed that the rights denied to the black majority were the same as those that had been denied to the working class in Europe several decades before. Consequently, they were fighting the same struggle: for democracy, socialism and emancipation.71 By identifying the history of the European working class and social democracy with liberation movements, a moral obligation was created that demanded action. At the same time, however, equating the aims of social democracy and liberation movements produced new dividing lines. If the struggle against apartheid and colonialism repeated the emancipatory struggle of the working class, Africa’s future became Europe’s past. The liberation

No Peace without Equality  •  149

movements still had to attain what social democracy had already achieved in Europe.

Conclusions The new peace conceptions were, as we have seen, neither a distinctly Swedish discourse nor the work of individual politicians like Brandt or Palme. Thanks to their position as heads of government and chairmen of UN Commissions on development and security, both were prominent promoters of the nexus between equality and peace. Yet they did not invent the nexus, nor were they the only supporters of the new peace concept. As this chapter has shown, their ideas were developed as part of national and transnational discussions. Stressing the importance of equality as a condition for peace made a specific social democratic contribution to larger debates about development and security in the ‘one world’ framework. Shared interpretations of perceived changes in the world led to similar assessments about the importance of giving prominence to the social dimension of development and equality within and between countries and of supporting liberation movements. Specific national and party traditions clearly also proved influential, such as the West German obsession with economic stability, or the historical identification of social democracy with liberation movements, which went furthest in Sweden. Furthermore, the Swedish and Dutch governments were most influenced by social movements and the New Left. By contrast, the influence of the FDP within the West German government and the necessity to prove their own anticommunism seem to have been stronger than in the other countries. The often-­posited singularity of Swedish foreign policy must now be revised. On the one hand, neutrality and active foreign policy did not give rise to a specific Swedish concept of peace, even though the Palme government emphasized that both would enable the work for solidarity and social justice in Sweden and the world to take place.72 Apart from the rhetoric, these ideas do not seem to have made a fundamental difference to the understanding of peace, at least as far as its social dimension was concerned, when compared to the NATO members West Germany and the Netherlands. Their implementation by Sweden, however, differed, especially compared to West Germany. In questions of disarmament or détente, neutrality obviously played an important role and increased Sweden’s interest in involving as few countries as possible in the East-­West conflict. On the other hand, neutrality, and the image of actively promoting peace, were central to the self-­conception of the Palme government.

150 • Christopher Seiberlich

In the 1970s, reconceptions of peace that included social justice and equality within and among countries gained prominence and clout, even though they did not become hegemonic in international politics. Social democratic parties were the driving forces behind this change, even though the new ways of thinking were not exclusively leftist. The policies of the liberal Trudeau cabinet in Canada and the centre-­right cabinet of Thorbjörn Fälldin and foreign secretary Karin Söder (Centre Party) in Sweden, which maintained many elements of the social democratic North-­South politics, suggest the more widespread appeal of the new peace concepts. The same is true for the churches’ turn to North-­South problems that can be seen in liberation theology, the encyclical Populorum Progressio of 1967, or the meeting of the World Council of Churches in Uppsala in 1968.73 Social democratic foreign policies amplified and spread these beliefs via the meeting point between equality and peace which they adopted from UN debates and peace research.74 They interpreted and refined these ideas by integrating them into their foreign policy programmes, and by combining them with their own convictions and experiences from domestic and welfare policies and their own internationalist traditions. International peace will always remain fragile, they believed, as long as ‘the gap between rich and poor countries and rich and poor people’ has not been closed or at least reduced. In the 1970s, social democrats extended their concepts of solidarity and social justice to the international sphere, anchoring them as preconditions of international peace. Christopher Seiberlich has studied History and German Language and Literature in Freiburg and Gothenburg (State Examination); he is a doctoral candidate in Contemporary History at the University of Tübingen (until September 2021) and Freiburg (since October 2021) (working title: ‘Social Democracy and the Postcolonial World Order’). From 2019 to 2021, he held a PhD Scholarship at the Friedrich-­Ebert-­Stiftung, and since October 2021 has been part of an individual research project funded by the DFG (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft) at the Chair of Contemporary History at the University of Freiburg.

Notes  1. Statement by Mr. Olof Palme, Prime Minister of Sweden, in the United Nations General Assembly, October 20, 1970, Utkast, http://www.olofpalme.org/wp-­content/dokument​ /701020a_fn.pdf (accessed 7 April 2020), 9.

No Peace without Equality  •  151

 2. See Anförande av statsministern vid Förenta Nationernas generalförsamlings högtidssess­ ion den 20 oktober, in ‘Utrikesfrågor: Offentliga dokument m. m. rörande viktigare svenska utrikesfrågor (Uf) 1970’, Stockholm 1971, no. 10, 59f. All German, Dutch and Swedish quotations have been translated by me, if the source is not referred to in English.  3. See Ulf Bjereld, Alf W. Johansson and Karl Molin, Sveriges säkerhet och världens fred: Svensk utrikespolitik under kalla kriget (Stockholm: Santérus, 2008); Ulf Bjereld, ‘Critic or Mediator? Sweden in World Politics, 1945–90’, Journal of Peace Research 32(1), 1995, 23–35; Hans Lödén, ‘För säkerhets skull’: Ideologi och säkerhet i svensk aktiv utrikespolitik 1950–1975 (Stockholm: Nerenius & Santérus, 1999); Leos Müller, Neutrality in World History (London: Routledge, 2019), 152. For Sweden’s differing approach within Europe, see Aryo Makko, Ambassadors of Realpolitik: Sweden, the CSCE and the Cold War (New York: Berghahn Books, 2016).  4. Focusing on individual politicians are, for example, Ann-­ Marie Ekengren, Olof Palme och utrikespolitiken: Europa och Tredje Världen (Umeå: Boréa, 2005); Jan Hansen, ‘Globale Risikogemeinschaft? Frieden und Entwicklung bei Willy Brandt (1977–1985)’, in Frank Ettrich and Dietmar Herz (eds), Willy Brandt: Politisches Handeln und Demokratisierung (Opladen: Budrich UniPress, 2015), 131–155; Bernd Rother, ‘“Entwicklung ist ein anderes Wort für Frieden”: Willy Brandt und der Nord-­Süd-­Konflikt von den 1960er bis zu den 1980er Jahren’, in Jost Dülffer and Gottfried Niedhart (eds), Frieden durch Demokratie? Genese, Wirkung und Kritik eines Deutungsmusters (Essen: Klartext Verlag, 2011), 257–269; Bernd Rother and Klaus Larres (eds), Willy Brandt and International Relations: Europe, the USA, and Latin America, 1974–1992 (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2019).  5. The term social democratic refers to party membership within the SAP (Swedish Social Democratic Party), the PvdA (Dutch Labour Party), the SPD (Social Democratic Party of Germany), or their sister parties in other countries. Left-­wing refers to the location on the political spectrum and includes both left-­wing liberals and left-­wing intellectuals.   6. I prefer the more neutral term ‘Global South’ over the contemporary terms ‘Third World’ or ‘underdeveloped/developing countries’.   7. For a comparison of Swedish and Dutch security policies in the 1940s, see Susanna Erlandsson, Window of Opportunity: Dutch and Swedish Security Ideas and Strategies 1942–1948 (PhD dissertation, Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 2015).   8. See Martin Deuerlein, Das Zeitalter der Interdependenz: Globales Denken und internationale Politik in den langen 1970er Jahren (Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 2020); Niall Ferguson, Charles S. Maier, Erez Manela and Daniel J. Sargent (eds), The Shock of the Global: The 1970s in Perspective (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2010).  9. Rijksbegroting voor het dienstjaar 1974: Hoofdstuk V–Buitenlandse Zaken. Zitting 1973–1974 – 12 600 (Rijksbegroting), 2. 10. See Eckart Conze, Geschichte der Sicherheit: Entwicklung – Themen – Perspektiven (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2018), 47–68 and 166–173; Rüdiger Graf, Oil and Sovereignty: Petro-Knowledge and Energy Policy in the United States and Western Europe in the 1970s, trans. Alex Skinner (New York: Berghahn Books, 2018); Ann-­Marie Ekengren and Rasmus Mariager, ‘The Socialist International, Common Security, and the Palme Commission: Helping to keep European Détente Alive, 1976–1985’, in Poul Villaume, Ann-­Marie Ekengren and Rasmus Mariager (eds), Northern Europe in the Cold War, 1965–1990: East-West Interactions of Trade, Culture

152 • Christopher Seiberlich

and Security (Helsinki: Aleksanteri Institute, 2016), 215–238; and Enrico Böhm, Die Sicherheit des Westens: Entstehung und Funktion der G7-Gipfel (1975–1981) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2014). 11. See Socialdemokraterna, Arbetarrörelsen och en rättvisare världsordning: Biståndspolitiskt program (Borås, 1978), 26–29; Willy Brandt, Der organisierte Wahnsinn: Wettrüsten und Welthunger (Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1985). 12. The term North-­South politics subsumes different aspects of the relations between the Global North and the Global South, for example questions of ‘development’ in countries of the Global South, the huge differences in wealth between the industrialized countries and the newly independent countries, differences in energy supply, or the South’s desire to overcome colonial rule. 13. Starting from the perspective of politicians and intellectuals of the Global South, Getachew develops similar arguments. See Adom Getachew, Worldmaking after Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019), 142–175. While also noting a shift in peace concepts from the 1960s on, Goedde argues that the New Left saw peace as the precondition for other ends, like economic and social development or ending poverty. See Petra Goedde, The Politics of Peace: A Global Cold War History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019), 39– 66. 14. Regeringsdeklaration i riksdagens utrikesdebatt den 21 mars, Uf 1973, no. 4, 34. 15. See Lester B. Pearson (ed.), Partners in Development: Report of the Commission on International Development (New York: Praeger, 1969); International Development Strategy for the Second United Nations Development Decade, 24  October 1970, especially paragraphs 4 and 6; the quotation is from paragraph 6. Specialized agencies like UNESCO or the International Labour Organisation (ILO) already mentioned the link between the solidity of peace and social conditions in the 1940s. See https://www​ .unesco.de/mediathek/dokumente/verfassung-­der-­organisation-­fuer-­bildung-­wissen​ schaft-­und-­kultur (accessed 31 March 2020); Daniel Maul, The International Labour Organization: 100 Years of Global Social Policy (Berlin: De Gruyter Oldenbourg, 2019). 16. See, for example, Aus dem Bericht des Vorsitzenden der Nord-Süd-Kommission, Brandt, in der Sitzung in Mont Pèlerin, 23. Februar 1979, in Willy Brandt, Berliner Ausgabe 8: Über Europa hinaus. Dritte Welt und Sozialistische Internationale (BA 8), ed. Bernd Rother and Wolfgang Schmidt (Bonn: Dietz, 2006), 247–256, here 250; Vorstand der SPD, Entwicklungspolitik: Die soziale Frage des 20. Jahrhunderts (Bonn, 1977). 17. See, for example, Nils Gilman, ‘The New International Economic Order: A Reintroduction’, Humanity 6(1), 2015, 1–16; Daniel J. Whelan, ‘“Under the Aegis of Man”: The Right to Development and the Origins of the New International Economic Order’, Humanity 6(1), 2015, 93–108; and Samuel Moyn, Not Enough: Human Rights in an Unequal World (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2018). 18. See Declaration on the Establishment of a New International Economic Order, 1  May 1974. 19. See Jan Tinbergen and Anthony J. Dolman (eds), Reshaping the International Order: A Report to the Club of Rome (New York: Dutton, 1976). More generally, see Christian Salm, Transnational Socialist Networks in the 1970s: European Community Development Aid and Southern Enlargement (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 88f. 20. See Uwe Holtz, ‘Sicherheitspolitik und Entwicklungspolitik’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 24(3), 1977, 216–219. With the foundation of the Swedish International Peace

No Peace without Equality  •  153

Research Institute in 1966, the Swedish government under Tage Erlander promoted peace research, particularly the production of knowledge about arms proliferation; cf. for example Statsminister Palmes anförande i Piteå den 4 augusti, Uf 1974, no. 10, 45f. 21. See, for example, Birgitta Dahl, ‘Välgörenhet eller samhällsomdaning’, Tiden 60(10), 1968, 607–14. 22. See Anförande av utrikesministern i riksdagen den 3 maj, Uf 1972, no. 6, 36; Biståndspolitiska utredningen 1975/1976, kap. 7, en svensk u-landspolitik, SE/ RA/323094/~/10, 8, 11 and 15. SE/RA=Riksarkiv Stockholm. 23. See Entwicklungspolitische Konzeption der Bundesrepublik Deutschland für die Zweite Entwicklungsdekade: Kabinettbeschluß vom 11. Februar 1971 (Drucksache VI/2053); Staatssekretärbesprechung, 10. Dezember 1970, in Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik Deutschlands 1970, ed. on behalf of the Auswärtiges Amt by the Institut für Zeitgeschichte (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2001), no. 597, 2255–2265; Bastian Hein, Die Westdeutschen und die Dritte Welt: Entwicklungspolitik und Entwicklungsdienste zwischen Reform und Revolte 1959–1974 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006). 24. The West German government was led by Brandt from 1969 to 1974 and by Schmidt from 1974 to 1982, in constant coalition with the Free Democratic Party (FDP). 25. Uwe Holtz, ‘SPD und Neue Weltwirtschaftsordnung’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 25(9), 1978, 705–710, here 708. 26. See Thesen für die Politik der Zusammenarbeit mit den Entwicklungsländern (Drucksache 8/3582); Memorandum zur Nord-Süd-Politik: An Herrn Bundeskanzler Helmut Schmidt, 3. August 1977, Bundesarchiv Koblenz (BArch), B 136/14901, Bd. 2, S. 1f. 27. See Rijksbegroting 1974, 29. For arguments between the SPD and the PvdA concerning a European development policy, see Salm, Networks, 162. 28. See Rijksbegroting 1974, 2 and 5. 29. See Duco Hellema, Nederland in de wereld: Buitenlandse politiek van Nederland (Antwerp: Spectrum, 2010), 304–348; Maarten Kuitenbrouwer, De ontdekking van de Derde Wereld: Beeldvorming en beleid in Nederland, 1950–1990 (The Hague: SDU Uitgeverij Koninginnegracht, 1994), 64–108. Closely connected to the changes in development politics and the wish to secure international peace was the early establishment of a comprehensive human rights policy. See Jan Eckel, The Ambivalence of Good: Human Rights in International Politics since the 1940s, trans. Rachel Ward (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), 190–224. 30. Jan Pronk and Leo van Maare, ‘Die Konsequenzen einer Neuen Weltwirtschaftsordnung für die Industriestaaten’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 25(9), 1978, 711–717, here 712. 31. Harry van den Bergh to Bernt Carlsson, 20th January 1977, Willy Brandt Archiv (WBA) A 13.2 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. 32. See Nikolas Glover, ‘Neutrality Unbound: Sweden, Foreign Aid and the Rise of the Non-­ aligned World’, in Sandra Bott, Jussi M. Hanhimäki, Janick Marina Schaufelbuehl and Marco Wyss (eds), Neutrality and Neutralism in the Global Cold War: Between or Within the Blocs? (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017), 161–177, here 164; Carl Marklund, ‘Double Loyalties? Small-­State Solidarity and the Debates on the New International Economic Order in Sweden During the Long 1970s’, Scandinavian Journal of History 45(3), 2020, 384–406. 33. See Helmut Schmidt, ‘Leitgedanken unserer Außenpolitik: Rede zur Eröffnung der Außenpolitischen Bundeskonferenz der SPD am 17. Januar 1975 in Bonn’, in Helmut Schmidt, Kontinuität und Konzentration (Bonn-­ Bad Godesberg: Verlag Neue Gesellschaft, 1975), 226–242, here 228–233.

154 • Christopher Seiberlich

34. See, for example, Deutsche Haltung zur Erklärung und zum Aktionsprogramm über die Errichtung einer neuen Weltwirtschaftsordnung, 21. November 1974, BArch, B 213/17195, 3. 35. See Dr. Leister, Leiter des Kanzlerbüros, an den Vorsitzenden der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands, Herrn Willy Brandt, persönlich, 21. Dezember 1976, here: Einige Gedanken zur ‘Resolution on international economic solidarity’ der Sozialistischen Internationale vom 27. November 1976, WBA A 13.1 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992; Rainer Offergeld, ‘Anmerkungen zum Thema Neue Weltwirtschaftsordnung’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 25(9), 1978, 700–704, here 702. 36. Dr. Thomas Harms, Leiter des Ministerbüros für wirtschaftliche Zusammenarbeit, an Albrecht Müller, Bundeskanzleramt, Anlage. Konferenz über internationale wirtschaftliche Zusammenarbeit, 1. März 1977, BArch B 136/14901, S. 1–3. 37. See Rede des Herrn Bundeskanzlers Dr. Bruno Kreisky vor der Sozialistischen Internationale. Genf, 26 November 1976, WBA, A 13.2 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. 38. See Dr. Leister Herrn Willy Brandt, 21. Dezember 1976, 1–4. 39. Willy Brandt, ‘Nord-­ Süd-­ Politik: Dritte Säule der Friedenspolitik’, in Robert Schwebler (ed.), Jahre der Wende: 1968–1978. Bestandsaufnahme eines Jahrzehnts (Karlsruhe: Verlag Versicherungswirtschaft, 1978), 15–21, here 19 (first quote) and 17. 40. See, for example, Socialdemokraterna, Arbetarrörelsen, 19–24. The paper did highlight differing preconditions as well. 41. See Egon Bahr, ‘Vorwort’, in Rainer Jonas and Manfred Tietzel (eds), Die Neuordnung der Weltwirtschaft (Bonn-­Bad Godesberg: Verlag Neue Gesellschaft, 1976), 7–9, here 7; Rede des Vorsitzenden der Nord-Süd-Kommission, Brandt, zur Eröffnung der Konstituierenden Sitzung auf Schloss Gymnich, 9. Dezember 1977, BA 8, 209–213, here 213; Aus den einführenden Bemerkungen des Vorsitzenden der Nord-Süd-Kommission, Brandt, zur Vorstellung des Berichts ‘Hilfe in der Weltkrise’ vor der Bundespressekonferenz in Bonn 9. Februar 1983, BA 8, 358–361, here 361. 42. See Antrittsrede des Präsidenten der SI, Brandt, beim Kongress der SI in Genf, 26. November 1976, BA 8, S. 161–177, here 174f. 43. See Olof Palme, ‘Socialdemokratin i Europa starkare än någonsin’, Tiden 64(7/8), 1972, 391–403, here 403. For similar lines of argument, see Bernd Rother, ‘Sozialdemokratischer ­Internationalismus – ­Die SI und der Nord-­Süd-­Konflikt’, in Bernd Rother (ed.), Willy Brandts Außenpolitik (Wiesbaden: Springer VS, 2014), 259–334; Christine Ingebritsen, ‘Norm Entrepreneurs: Scandinavia’s Role in World Politics’, Cooperation and Conflict 37(1), 2002, 11–23. 44. See Handelsminister Lidboms anförande inför FN:s konferens om handel och utveckling i Nairobi den 6 maj 1976, Uf 1976, no. 6, 43. For similar thoughts on the Global South, cf. Getachew, Worldmaking, 153f, 157. 45. Palmes anförande i Piteå, Uf 1974, no. 10, 56. 46. For an earlier statement that the unequal distribution of wealth would endanger international peace and development, see, for example, Grundsatzprogramm der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands: Beschlossen vom Außerordentlichen Parteitag des Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands in Bad Godesberg vom 13. bis 15. November 1959, ed. Vorstand der SPD (Bonn, 1959), 18. 47. See Christopher Seiberlich, ‘“Ausgleich zuhause und draußen”: Solidaritätsrhetorik in der bundesdeutschen und schwedischen Außenpolitik der 1970er Jahre’, Archiv für Sozialgeschichte 60, 2020, 213–235.

No Peace without Equality  •  155

48. See Cranford Pratt (ed.), Internationalism under Strain: The North-South Policies of Canada, the Netherlands, Norway, and Sweden (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989); Thorsten Borring Olesen, Helge Ø Pharo and Kristian Paaskesen (eds), Saints and Sinners: Official Development Aid and its Dynamics in a Historical and Comparative Perspective (Oslo: Akademika Publishing, 2013). 49. See Dr. Leister Herrn Willy Brandt, 21. Dezember 1976, 1–4. 50. Fritz Fischer, Vermerk II, Betr.: Gespräche und Pressekonferenz von Willy Brandt in Neu-Delhi betreffend ‘Brandt-Kommission’ vom 20.-22.12.1977, Bonn, 5. Januar 1978, WBA, A 13.6 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992, 2. 51. Rijksbegroting 1974, 36. 52. Memorandum: Restructuring of the Netherlands Economy and Development Cooperation. Presented to the Staten General of the Netherlands on 9 December 1974, Konferenser för internationellt ekonomiskt samarbete (1975 Dec 15–1976 Feb 29) mapp 1, SE/ RA/221/2210.03.3/H/H 109/11, 3, 5, 8, 9; Biståndspolitiska utredningen 1975/1976, kap. 7.8 anpassad näringspolitik, 28–32. 53. See, for example, Rijksbegroting 1974, 28; see also Getachew, Worldmaking. 54. See Uwe Holtz an Willy Brandt, Bonn, 12. Oktober 1977, WBA A 13.6 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992, 3. 55. See Biståndspolitiska utredningen 1975/1976, kap. 7.4, motiv, mål och medel för en svensk u-landspolitik, 8–13. 56. See Dr. Leister Herrn Brandt, 21. Dezember 1976, here: Betr.: Entschließung des SPDVorstands zum Südlichen Afrika vom 22. November 1976 (Bonn 7. Dezember 1976). See also Philipp Rock, Macht, Märkte und Moral: Zur Rolle der Menschenrechte in der Außenpolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren (PhD dissertation, Humboldt Universität Berlin, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2010), 120–182. 57. See Tor Sellström, Sweden and National Liberation in Southern Africa, Vol. 2: Solidarity and Assistance 1970–1994 (Uppsala: Nordic Africa Institute, 2002). 58. See Rijksbegroting 1974, 26–29. 59. See CSU-Pressemitteilungen, Nr. 319/1977, 6. Juli 1977; Egon Bahr, Interview in Deutsches Allgemeines Sonntagsblatt, 5. Juli 1977, BArch B 136/16555. 60. See Walter Scheel an Willy Brandt, 17. August 1973, BArch B136/6214. 61. See Parteitag der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands vom 10. bis 14. April 1973, Band I: Protokoll der Verhandlungen. Anlagen (Bonn, 1974), 1103; Dr. Leister Herrn Brandt; Thesen (Drucksache 8/3582), no. 15. 62. See Uwe Holtz an Willy Brandt, 12. Oktober 1973, incl. Anlage. Betr.: Bericht der SI-Mission in das südliche Afrika; Uwe Holtz, ‘SI-­Mission in das südliche Afrika’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 24(12), 1977, 992–995; Rijksbegroting 1974, 26–29; Vorlage für die Sitzung des Parteivorstands der SPD am 22. November 1976, WBA A 13.1 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992, 89f. 63. See Hans-Eberhard Dingels an Willy Brandt, Betr.: Einladung an die Führungsspitze der PAIGC, Bonn, 26. Juni 1975, WBA, A 11.4.127 Büro Willy Brandt. 64. See RL VLR I Müller an Herrn Staatssekretär, Bonn, 4. Oktober 1976, Betr.: Rhodesische Befreiungsbewegungen und ihre Führer, BArch, B 136/16555; Walter Scheel an Willy Brandt, 17. August 1973, BArch B136/6214. 65. See 1.12.0/länder/organisationer, Biståndsverksamhet - bidrag till frihetsrörelser, SE/ RA/2722/01/F 1 ACA/929 and the following numbers. 66. See also Ekengren, Palme, 168–173.

156 • Christopher Seiberlich

67. See Noel Gabriel Mukono, ZANU Secretary for Foreign Affairs, to Olof Palme, VicePresident of the Socialist International, 7 November 1977, WBA A 13.6 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. 68. See Uwe Holtz an Willy Brandt, 12. Oktober 1977, 2–5. 69. For similar ideas among socialists in the Global South, cf. Getachew, Worldmaking, 158. 70. Statsrådet Palmes anförande vid Broderskapskonferens i Gävle, 30. juli 1965, http://www​ .olofpalme.org/wp-­content/dokument/650730c_broderskaps_kongress_gavle.pdf (accessed 6 May 2020). 71. See Anförande av statsministern vid TANU-kongressen i Dar-es-Salaam den 26 september, Uf 1971, no. 10, 55f; Uwe Holtz an Willy Brandt, 12. Oktober 1977. 72. See also Glover, Neutrality, 172. 73. See Bjereld, Johansson and Molin, Säkerhet, 243; David R. Morrison, ‘UN Norm Countries: Canada as a Counter-­Case’, in Borring Olesen, Pharo and Paaskesen, Saints, 159–194. 74. A similar discussion on development politics without a left-­wing spin can be found regarding the idea of ‘basic needs’.

Bibliography

Archival Sources 1.12.0/länder/organisationer, Biståndsverksamhet - bidrag till frihetsrörelser, SE/ RA/2722/01/F 1 ACA/929. Bahr, Egon. Interview in Deutsches Allgemeines Sonntagsblatt, 5. Juli 1977, BArch B 136/16555. Biståndspolitiska utredningen 1975/1976, SE/RA/323094/~/10. CSU-Pressemitteilungen, Nr. 319/1977, 6. Juli 1977, BArch B 136/16555. Deutsche Haltung zur Erklärung und zum Aktionsprogramm über die Errichtung einer neuen Weltwirtschaftsordnung, 21. November 1974, BArch, B 213/17195. Dr. Leister, Leiter des Kanzlerbüros, an den Vorsitzenden der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands, Herrn Willy Brandt, persönlich, 21. Dezember 1976, WBA A 13.1 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. Dr. Thomas Harms, Leiter des Ministerbüros für wirtschaftliche Zusammenarbeit, an Albrecht Müller, Bundeskanzleramt, Anlage. Konferenz über internationale wirtschaftliche Zusammenarbeit, 1. März 1977, BArch B 136/14901. Fritz Fischer, Vermerk II, Betr.: Gespräche und Pressekonferenz von Willy Brandt in Neu-Delhi betreffend ‘Brandt-Kommission’ vom 20.–22.12.1977, Bonn, 5. Januar 1978, WBA, A 13.6 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. Hans-Eberhard Dingels an Willy Brandt, Betr.: Einladung an die Führungsspitze der PAIGC, Bonn, 26. Juni 1975, WBA, A 11.4.127 Büro Willy Brandt. Harry van den Bergh to Bernt Carlsson, 20th January 1977, WBA A 13.2 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. Memorandum: Restructuring of the Netherlands Economy and Development Cooperation. Presented to the Staten General of the Netherlands on 9 December 1974, Konferenser för internationellt ekonomiskt samarbete (1975  Dec 15–1976  Feb 29) mapp 1, SE/ RA/221/2210.03.3/H/H 109/11.

No Peace without Equality  •  157

Memorandum zur Nord-Süd-Politik: An Herrn Bundeskanzler Helmut Schmidt, 3. August 1977, BArch, B 136/14901, Bd. 2. Noel Gabriel Mukono, ZANU Secretary for Foreign Affairs, to Olof Palme, Vice-President of the Socialist International, 7 November 1977, WBA A 13.6 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. Rede des Herrn Bundeskanzlers Dr. Bruno Kreisky vor der Sozialistischen Internationale. Genf, 26 November 1976, WBA, A 13.2 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. RL VLR I Müller an Herrn Staatssekretär, Bonn, 4. Oktober 1976, Betr.: Rhodesische Befreiungsbewegungen und ihre Führer, BArch, B 136/16555. Uwe Holtz an Willy Brandt, Bonn, 12. Oktober 1977, WBA A 13.6 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. Vorlage für die Sitzung des Parteivorstands der SPD am 22. November 1976, WBA A 13.1 Sozialistische Internationale 1976–1992. Walter Scheel an Willy Brandt, 17. August 1973, BArch B136/6214.

Published Soures Anförande av statsministern vid Förenta Nationernas generalförsamlings högtidssession den 20 oktober, in ‘Utrikesfrågor: Offentliga dokument m. m. rörande viktigare svenska utrikesfrågor Uf 1970’, Stockholm 1971, no. 10. Anförande av statsministern vid TANU-kongressen i Dar-es-Salaam den 26 september, Uf 1971, no. 10. Anförande av utrikesministern i riksdagen den 3 maj, Uf 1972, no. 6. Antrittsrede des Präsidenten der SI, Brandt, beim Kongress der SI in Genf, 26. November 1976, BA 8, S. 161–177. Aus dem Bericht des Vorsitzenden der Nord-Süd-Kommission, Brandt, in der Sitzung in Mont Pèlerin, 23. Februar 1979, in Willy Brandt, Berliner Ausgabe 8: Über Europa hinaus. Dritte Welt und Sozialistische Internationale BA 8, ed. Bernd Rother and Wolfgang Schmidt (Bonn: Dietz, 2006), 247–256. Aus den einführenden Bemerkungen des Vorsitzenden der Nord-Süd-Kommission, Brandt, zur Vorstellung des Berichts ‘Hilfe in der Weltkrise’ vor der Bundespressekonferenz in Bonn 9. Februar 1983, BA 8, 358–361. Bahr, Egon. ‘Vorwort’, in Rainer Jonas and Manfred Tietzel (eds), Die Neuordnung der Weltwirtschaft (Bonn-­Bad Godesberg: Verlag Neue Gesellschaft, 1976), 7–9. Bjereld, Ulf. ‘Critic or Mediator? Sweden in World Politics, 1945–90’, Journal of Peace Research 32(1), 1995, 23–35. Bjereld, Ulf, Alf W. Johansson and Karl Molin. Sveriges säkerhet och världens fred: Svensk utrikespolitik under kalla kriget (Stockholm: Santérus, 2008). Böhm, Enrico. Die Sicherheit des Westens: Entstehung und Funktion der G7-Gipfel (1975– 1981) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2014). Brandt, Willy. ‘Nord-­Süd-­Politik: Dritte Säule der Friedenspolitik’, in Robert Schwebler (ed.), Jahre der Wende: 1968–1978. Bestandsaufnahme eines Jahrzehnts (Karlsruhe: Verlag Versicherungswirtschaft, 1978), 15–21. _______. Der organisierte Wahnsinn: Wettrüsten und Welthunger (Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1985). Conze, Eckart. Geschichte der Sicherheit: Entwicklung – Themen – Perspektiven (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2018). Dahl, Birgitta. ‘Välgörenhet eller samhällsomdaning’, Tiden 60(10), 1968, 607–14. Declaration on the Establishment of a New International Economic Order, 1 May 1974.

158 • Christopher Seiberlich

Deuerlein, Martin. Das Zeitalter der Interdependenz: Globales Denken und internationale Politik in den langen 1970er Jahren (Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 2020). Eckel, Jan. The Ambivalence of Good: Human Rights in International Politics since the 1940s, trans. Rachel Ward (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019). Ekengren, Ann-­Marie. Olof Palme och utrikespolitiken: Europa och Tredje Världen (Umeå: Boréa, 2005). Ekengren, Ann-­ Marie and Mariager Rasmus. ‘The Socialist International, Common Security, and the Palme Commission: Helping to Keep European Détente Alive, 1976–1985’, in Poul Villaume, Ann-­Marie Ekengren and Rasmus Mariager (eds), Northern Europe in the Cold War, 1965–1990: East-West Interactions of Trade, Culture and Security (Helsinki: Aleksanteri Institute, 2016), 215–28. Entwicklungspolitische Konzeption der Bundesrepublik Deutschland für die Zweite Entwicklungsdekade: Kabinettbeschluß vom 11. Februar 1971 (Drucksache VI/2053). Erlandsson, Susanna. Window of Opportunity: Dutch and Swedish Security Ideas and Strategies 1942–1948 (PhD dissertation, Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 2015). Ferguson, Niall, Charles S. Maier, Erez Manela and Daniel J. Sargent (eds). The Shock of the Global: The 1970s in Perspective (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2010). Getachew, Adom. Worldmaking after Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019). Gilman, Nils. ‘The New International Economic Order: A Reintroduction’, Humanity 6(1), 2015, 1–16. Glover, Nikolas. ‘Neutrality Unbound: Sweden, Foreign Aid and the Rise of the Non-­ aligned World’, in Sandra Bott, Jussi M. Hanhimäki, Janick Marina Schaufelbuehl and Marco Wyss (eds), Neutrality and Neutralism in the Global Cold War: Between or Within the Blocs? (Abingdon: Routledge, 2017), 161–77. Goedde, Petra. The Politics of Peace: A Global Cold War History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019). Graf, Rüdiger. Oil and Sovereignty: Petro-Knowledge and Energy Policy in the United States and Western Europe in the 1970s, trans. Alex Skinner (New York: Berghahn Books, 2018). Grundsatzprogramm der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands: Beschlossen vom Außerordentlichen Parteitag des Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands in Bad Godesberg vom 13. bis 15. November 1959, ed. Vorstand der SPD (Bonn, 1959). Handelsminister Lidboms anförande inför FN:s konferens om handel och utveckling i Nairobi den 6 maj 1976, Uf 1976, no. 6. Hansen, Jan. ‘Globale Risikogemeinschaft? Frieden und Entwicklung bei Willy Brandt (1977–1985)’, in Frank Ettrich and Dietmar Herz (eds), Willy Brandt: Politisches Handeln und Demokratisierung (Opladen: Budrich UniPress, 2015), 131–55. Hein, Bastian. Die Westdeutschen und die Dritte Welt: Entwicklungspolitik und Entwicklungsdienste zwischen Reform und Revolte 1959–1974 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006). Hellema, Duco. Nederland in de wereld: Buitenlandse politiek van Nederland (Antwerp: Spectrum, 2010). Holtz, Uwe. ‘Sicherheitspolitik und Entwicklungspolitik’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 24(3), 1977, 216–19. _______. ‘SI-­Mission in das südliche Afrika’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 24(12), 1977, 992–995. _______. ‘SPD und Neue Weltwirtschaftsordnung’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 25(9), 1978, 705–710.

No Peace without Equality  •  159

Ingebritsen, Christine. ‘Norm Entrepreneurs: Scandinavia’s Role in World Politics’, Cooperation and Conflict 37(1), 2002, 11–23. International Development Strategy for the Second United Nations Development Decade, 24 October 1970. Kuitenbrouwer, Maarten. De ontdekking van de Derde Wereld: Beeldvorming en beleid in Nederland, 1950–1990 (The Hague: SDU Uitgeverij Koninginnegracht, 1994). Lödén, Hans. ‘För säkerhets skull’: Ideologi och säkerhet i svensk aktiv utrikespolitik 1950–1975 (Stockholm: Nerenius & Santérus, 1999). Makko, Aryo. Ambassadors of Realpolitik: Sweden, the CSCE and the Cold War (New York: Berghahn Books, 2016). Marklund, Carl. ‘Double Loyalties? Small-­State Solidarity and the Debates on the New International Economic Order in Sweden During the Long 1970s’, Scandinavian Journal of History 45(3), 2020, 384–406. Maul, Daniel. The International Labour Organization: 100 Years of Global Social Policy (Berlin: De Gruyter Oldenbourg, 2019). Morrison, David R. ‘UN Norm Countries: Canada as a Counter-­Case’, in Thorsten Borring Olesen, Helge O. Pharo and Kristian Paaskesen (eds), Saints and Sinners: Official Development Aid and its Dynamics in a Historical and Comparative Perspective (Oslo: Akademika Publishing, 2013), 159–94. Moyn, Samuel. Not Enough: Human Rights in an Unequal World (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2018). Müller, Leos. Neutrality in World History (London: Routledge, 2019). Offergeld, Rainer. ‘Anmerkungen zum Thema Neue Weltwirtschaftsordnung’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 25(9), 1978, 700–4. Olesen, Thorsten Borring, Helge O. Pharo and Kristian Paaskesen (eds). Saints and Sinners: Official Development Aid and its Dynamics in a Historical and Comparative Perspective (Oslo: Akademika Publishing, 2013). Palme, Olof. ‘Socialdemokratin i Europa starkare än någonsin’, Tiden 64(7/8), 1972, 391–403. Parteitag der Sozialdemokratischen Partei Deutschlands vom 10. bis 14. April 1973, Band I: Protokoll der Verhandlungen. Anlagen (Bonn, 1974). Pearson, Lester B. (ed.). Partners in Development: Report of the Commission on International Development (New York: Praeger, 1969). Pratt, Cranford (ed.). Internationalism under Strain: The North-South Policies of Canada, the Netherlands, Norway, and Sweden (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1989). Pronk, Jan and Leo van Maare. ‘Die Konsequenzen einer Neuen Weltwirtschaftsordnung für die Industriestaaten’, Die Neue Gesellschaft 25(9), 1978, 711–17. Rede des Vorsitzenden der Nord-Süd-Kommission, Brandt, zur Eröffnung der Konstituierenden Sitzung auf Schloss Gymnich, 9. Dezember 1977, BA 8, 209–213. Regeringsdeklaration i riksdagens utrikesdebatt den 21 mars, Uf 1973, no. 4, 34. Rijksbegroting voor het dienstjaar 1974. Hoofdstuk V–Buitenlandse Zaken. Zitting 1973–1974 – 12 600 (Rijksbegroting). Rock, Philipp. Macht, Märkte und Moral: Zur Rolle der Menschenrechte in der Außenpolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren (PhD dissertation, Humboldt Universität Berlin, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2010). Rother, Bernd and Wolfgang Schmidt (eds). Berliner Ausgabe 8: Über Europa hinaus. Dritte Welt und Sozialistische Internationale BA 8 (Bonn: Dietz, 2006) Rother, Bernd. ‘“Entwicklung ist ein anderes Wort für Frieden”: Willy Brandt und der Nord-­Süd-­Konflikt von den 1960er bis zu den 1980er Jahren’, in Jost Dülffer and

160 • Christopher Seiberlich

Gottfried Niedhart (eds), Frieden durch Demokratie? Genese, Wirkung und Kritik eines Deutungsmusters (Essen: Klartext Verlag, 2011), 257–69. _______. ‘Sozialdemokratischer I­ nternationalismus – ­Die SI und der Nord-­Süd-­Konflikt’, in Bernd Rother (ed.), Willy Brandts Außenpolitik (Wiesbaden: Springer VS, 2014), 259–334. Rother, Bernd and Larres Klaus (eds). Willy Brandt and International Relations: Europe, the USA, and Latin America, 1974–1992 (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2019). Salm, Christian. Transnational Socialist Networks in the 1970s: European Community Development Aid and Southern Enlargement (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). Schmidt, Helmut. ‘Leitgedanken unserer Außenpolitik: Rede zur Eröffnung der Außenpolitischen Bundeskonferenz der SPD am 17. Januar 1975 in Bonn’, in Helmut Schmidt, Kontinuität und Konzentration (Bonn-­Bad Godesberg: Verlag Neue Gesellschaft, 1975), 226–42. Seiberlich, Christopher. ‘“Ausgleich zuhause und draußen”: Solidaritätsrhetorik in der bundesdeutschen und schwedischen Außenpolitik der 1970er Jahre’, Archiv für Sozialgeschichte 60, 2020, 213–35. Sellström, Tor. Sweden and National Liberation in Southern Africa, Vol. 2: Solidarity and Assistance 1970–1994 (Uppsala: Nordic Africa Institute, 2002). Socialdemokraterna. Arbetarrörelsen och en rättvisare världsordning: Biståndspolitiskt program (Borås, 1978). Staatssekretärbesprechung, 10. Dezember 1970, in Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik Deutschlands 1970, ed. on behalf of the Auswärtiges Amt by the Institut für Zeitgeschichte (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2001), no. 597: 2255–2265. Statsrådet Palmes anförande vid Broderskapskonferens i Gävle, 30. juli 1965, http://www.olof​ palme.org/wp-­content/dokument/650730c_broderskaps_kongress_gavle.pdf. Statement by Mr. Olof Palme, Prime Minister of Sweden, in the United Nations General Assembly, October 20, 1970, Utkast, http://www.olofpalme.org/wp-­content/dokument​/ 701020a_fn.pdf. Statsminister Palmes anförande i Piteå den 4 augusti, Uf 1974, no. 10. Thesen für die Politik der Zusammenarbeit mit den Entwicklungsländern (Drucksache 8/3582). Tinbergen, Jan and Anthony J. Dolman (eds). Reshaping the International Order: A Report to the Club of Rome (New York: Dutton, 1976). Unesco, https://www.unesco.de/mediathek/dokumente/verfassung-­der-­organisation-­fuer​ -­bildung-­wissenschaft-­und-­kultur. Vorstand der SPD. Entwicklungspolitik: Die soziale Frage des 20. Jahrhunderts (Bonn, 1977). Whelan, Daniel J. ‘“Under the Aegis of Man”: The Right to Development and the Origins of the New International Economic Order’, Humanity 6(1), 2015, 93–108.

Conclusion

Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

R

Research about the Swedish experience of enduring peace over more than two centuries is remarkably scant. This book has been an attempt to remedy that. Through a combination of traditional state-­centred and diplomatic approaches, and newer frameworks that also include non-­state agents and institutions, we have demonstrated that Pax Suecia – Sweden’s long ­peace – i­s a complex phenomenon and contains both ‘hard factors’ such as geography and the balancing of great power interests, and ‘soft factors’ such as language, internationalism and ideology. First, it must be emphasized that Sweden’s geography has contributed greatly to the long peace. After Finland was lost to Russia, and the dynastic union was enforced on Norway, the united Scandinavian peninsula became a ‘protected’ territory intrinsically. It was safeguarded by water in the East, South and West, and by the mountains and sparcely inhabited regions in the North. The Baltic Sea in the East, and the North Sea and the Atlantic in the West, would have made it difficult for Russia, Germany and other great powers to invade the peninsula even if they had wanted to. Between 1905 and 1919 the security situation of Sweden changed once again. In 1905 Norway left the union with Sweden but continued with its peaceful and neutrality-­promoting foreign policy. This worked until the outbreak of the Second World War. In 1940, however, the strategic significance of Norway increased to the point where both Britain and Germany were prepared to break its neutrality. Eventually it was

162  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

Nazi Germany that occupied Norway. In the East the breakdown of the Russian Empire brough independence to Finland. Finland’s independence, in spite of its fragility, undoubtedly improved Sweden’s security vis-­à-vis the Russian threat. Thus, Norway’s and Finland’s declarations of independence, of 1905 and 1917 respectively, are important reasons for Sweden’s strategic s­ ecurity – ­and the peace in the twentieth century. Second, as the examples of the First and Second World Wars have shown, the great power i­nterests – e­ specially Russian, but from time to time also German and ­British – ­to control Swedish territory, have not been so vital that the great powers have found it necessary to wage war against Sweden. It has been far more important, obviously, to deny other great powers access to Swedish territory to prevent the establishment of, for example, forward military bases. And the concessions that the Swedish government made during the First and Second World Wars were obviously not viewed as serious enough to motivate an attack on Sweden. Third, the book shows that factors such as culture and language have contributed to Pax Suecia. One of the aims of the Swedish promotion of Swedish language and culture in Finland has been to resist Russian influence. Here, the media and civil s­ ociety – i­n addition to the g­ overnment – ­have played a role. The promotion of Swedish culture and language worked to contain Russian influence, not only during the nineteenth century but also during the Cold War, when Finland’s room to manoeuvre was limited by the ‘Agreement of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance’ of 1948 with the Soviet Union. Efforts were continuously made to keep Finland integrated in the West, politically, economically and culturally, in order to keep the peace. Fourth, other ‘soft’ factors, such as the character of the Swedish state and its internationalist ideology, have played a role in the long peace. The slow but steady democratization of the Swedish state, including foreign policy, has made the country more peaceful and interested in keeping peace than waging war both at home and abroad. As the book has shown, Sweden became one of the most politically stable, developed and wealthy nations in the world after the Second World War, due ­to – ­inter ­alia – ­peaceful negotiations between employers and employees, between political parties, and in civil society more generally. Womens’ organizations in Sweden worked on anti-­war campaigns, and the international peace movement reached Sweden at the end of the nineteenth century. These movements significantly influenced the ways in which ideas of peace and peace-­building activities were developed by non-­state agents. Externally, especially after the Second World W ­ ar – b ­ ut also during the interwar y­ ears – ­the Swedish government and civil society internalized a

Conclusion • 163

internationalist ideology promoting disarmament, peaceful negotiations, mediation, conflict management and peace building among states. The second secretary-­general of the UN (1953–1961), Dag Hammarskjöld, embodied that ideology, and Sweden probably has contributed more (per capita) to the UN’s peace operations than any other UN nation, and to other UN humanitarian missions, including aid, since the end of the Second World War. This ideologically and/or identity-­ driven policy from the state and civil society has continued since the end of the Cold War in 1989–1991. Sweden joined NATO’s PfP programme in 1994, and the EU in 1995, which can be seen as a continuation of its internationalist ideology, building on the ideas of collective security and solidarity. Sweden has, for example, continued its large per capita contributions to UN-­mandated and UN-­or Nato-led peace operations in Bosnia, Kosovo, Afghanistan and Mali. In this book, we have also seen that some of the developments in Sweden were not unique. Social democratic parties in Western Europe formed their foreign policies in the 1970s and linked a peaceful world order to social developments in the Global South. Since 2014, Swedish work for global peace has also been connected to feminist foreign policy and an increased environmental engagement, which have become a new part of the ‘soft’ Swedish peaceful, internationalist ideology. Sweden’s 200 years of peace is a unique historical experience. We have tried to argue in this book that it is not only an outcome of traditional geopolitical, diplomatic and military factors, but includes other forgotten or misunderstood ­factors – ­cultural factors, ideology, organizations and actors. As emphasized in the introduction, a small state’s foreign policy is always balanced delicately between external and internal factors. But the long Swedish peace is something more than an outcome of a consistent, conscious and active foreign policy of neutrality. It also has to do with geopolitics, internationalism and the non-­ governmental organizations and actors shaping Sweden as a peaceful nation. We hope that this book will stimulate new research on the context of, and different perspectives on, Swedish foreign and security policy, and on Pax Suecia from a historical perspective. Nevra Biltekin has a PhD in history from Stockholm University. She has been affiliated with the Northern European Studies Institute at Humboldt University–Berlin, and the Hans Blix Center for the History of International Relations at Stockholm University. Her research has focused on unofficial diplomacy and gender in transnational relations during the twentieth century.

164  •  Nevra Biltekin, Leos Müller and Magnus Petersson

Leos Müller is Professor of History and the Head of the Centre for Maritime Studies at Stockholm University. His research interests include global history, history of early modern and modern neutrality, and Swedish maritime history from early modern time to present. His recent publications include Sveriges första globala århundrade: En 1700-tals historia (2018) and Neutrality in World History: Themes in World History (2019). Magnus Petersson is Professor of International Relations and Head of Department for Economic History and International Relations at Stockholm University. Previously he has been Analyst at the Swedish Defence Research Agency (2020–2021), Professor of Modern History at the Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies (2008–2020) and Lecturer, Director of Studies and Head of Research and Development at the Swedish Defence University (1998–2008). He has published widely on Swedish, Nordic and Transatlantic defence and security issues.

Index A Africa, 134; government policies and, 146; liberation movements in, 136, 148; South Africa, 144, 145 African Party for the Independence of Guinea and Cape Verde (PAIGC), 147 The Agreement of Friendship, Cooperation, and Mutual Assistance (1948), 118 Aid for Norway (Norgehjälpen), 98 Åland Islands, 29, 30, 115, 116 Alexander I (Tsar), 21, 26 Allsvenska (whole-Swedish) movement, 120 American Revolutionary War (1776–83), 19, 20, 21 Anglo-Dutch Wars (1650s/1670s): 18 anti-balance of power, 41 anticolonialism, 145. See also colonialism anti-militarism, 72–74, 77, 78 apartheid, 146. See also Africa Arnoldson, K.-P., 69 Association Internationale Antimilitaristes des Travailleurs, 73 Austria, 22 Avesta-Krylbo Lotta corps, 95, 96. See also Lotta movement B Bahr, Egon, 145 Bajer, Fredrik, 68 balance of power, 46–48; during Second World War, 51–53 Baltic Sea, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29, 52, 112. See also maritime neutrality (1794–1805 [Sweden]) Belgium, 39

Bergegren, Hinke, 77 Bergh, Richard, 8 Bernadotte, Folke, 4, 25, 26 Bernadotte, Marshall, 24, 38 Bernstein, Eduard, 66 Blix, Hans, 4 Boer War (1899–1902), 68 Bondeförbundet (Farmers’ Party), 87 bourgeois peace movement, 63, 64, 67, 68–72, 78 Brand, 73, 80 Brandt, Willy, 135, 141, 142, 144 Branting, Hjalmar, 66, 70, 71, 78 Bretton Woods system, 135 Broomé, Emilia, 79 Brotherhood movement (Broderskapsrörelsen), 142 C Cabral, Amílcar, 147 Carlgren, Wilheim, 50 Centralförsvaret (Centre Defence strategy), 25 Centre Defence strategy (Centralförsvaret), 25 Charles XIV John (King), 5, 17, 18, 19, 26, 32; Finnlandisierung Years (1812–34), 24–27; invasion of Norway, 38; neutrality proclamation of 1834, 28 Charles XV (King), 45 Chartist movement (1830s/1840s), 67 children: refugees, 90; Save the Children (Rädda barnen), 95, 98, 101 Chile, 138 Christian Democratic Union (CDU), 145 Christian IX (King), 44 Christian Social Union (CSU), 145

166 • Index

Churchill, Winston, 53 closed sea (mare clausum), 19 coalition governments, 138 Cobden, Richard, 67 Cold War, 3, 4, 9, 12, 32, 88, 100, 105, 106, 163; language peace and, 114–17; language policies during, 124; languages during, 119–21; post-war neutrality, 118 colonialism, 11, 144, 146 Columbia, 26 Committee in Aid of the Children of Finland (Hjälpkommittén för Finlands barn), 101 common Nordic language, 114. See also languages Conference on International Economic Cooperation (CIEC), 139, 144 Congress of Vienna (1814–15), 5, 17, 18, 22–24, 27 conscription system (indelningsverket), 71 consultation (rådplägning) conference (1946), 96 Continuation War (1941–1944), 99 Cremer, Randall, 65 Crimean War (1853–56), 18, 27–30, 39, 51 Criminal Code, 81 Cuba, 138 culture, Nordic, 114, 120 D Dagbok från Salutorget (Hägglöf ), 119 Dahl, Birgitta, 138 Danish Womens Emergency organization (De danske kvinders beredskab), 99, 101 defensive alliance (1936), 51 democracy, 3, 11, 126, 148 democratic control of governments, 42–43 demonstrations, 80 Denmark, 21; defensive alliance (1936), 51; Fyn, 45; German occupation of, 88; giving military support to, 6; neutrality with Sweden, 27; Schleswig Wars (1849–52/1863–64), 46–48; Second World War, 39; wars, 38 den Uyl, Joop, 135, 139, 140 détente, 142. See also North-South Conflict developmental assistance budgets, 143

domestic unity and cohesion, 42–43 Doyle, Michael, 42 Ducommun, Élie, 65 Dutch Kingdom, 23 E East-West conflicts, 144. See also NorthSouth Conflict economies, market. See market economies education: Finnish school committee (Läroverketskommitté), 121–23; language decisions in, 123–25 Egyesült Nöi Tabor, 99 Ehrenheim, Fredrik Wilhelm, 20 Elgström, Ole, 46 Eliasson, Jan, 4 empires, fall of, 112. See also First World War Engels, Friedrich, 67 Eppler, Erhard, 138, 140, 145 equality: abroad and in Sweden, 142–44; liberation movements, 144–46; market economies, 140–42; New International Economic Order (NIEO), 136, 137–40; peace and, 134–36; production/ uncertainty of knowledge, 147–49 Erlander, Tage, 119 Eskilsson, Lena, 91 Ethiopia, 138 European Free Trade Association (EFTA), 118, 126 F Fälldin, Thorbjörn, 150 Farmers’ Party (Bondeförbundet), 87 FDP (Free Democratic Party), 145, 146, 149 Federal Republic of Germany. See West Germany Fennoman, 100 Finland, 10; alliance with Sweden, 117; bond with Sweden, 113; Cold War and, 112–14 (see also Cold War); cooperation with Germany, 114, 115; defensive alliance (1936), 51; language decisions in education, 123–25; language peace, 114–17; languages during Cold War,

Index • 167

119–21; Lotta movement, 99 (see also Lotta movement); Lotta Svärd, 87, 88 (see also Lotta movement); post-war neutrality, 118–19; refugees, 90; role of peace and, 112–14 (see also peace); Second World War, 26 Finland Committee, 123 Finnish Civil War (1918), 88, 116 Finnish school committee (Läroverketskommitté), 121–23 Finnish Social Democrat Party, 115 Finnish War of 1808–09, 21, 89 Finnlandisierung Years (1812–34), 24–27 Finno-Ugric language family, 121 First Danish-German War of 1848–52, 39 First International, 64 First League of Armed Neutrality, 21 First Schleswig War (1848), 44, 45, 46–48 First World War, 6, 12, 31, 89, 112, 162; Nordic country experiences during, 48–49; strategic exposure of neutrals during, 49–51; Sweden’s involvement in, 50 forced unions, 62–63 foreign affairs (Utrikesdepartementet [UD]), 113, 114 foreign policies (Sweden), 1, 11; language peace and, 114–17; Sweden-Norway (1794–1856), 17–19 foreign politics, changes in, 136 Fox, Annette Baker, 41 France, 19, 23, 64 Frederick VII (King), 45 Fredrik, Christian, 74 Fredsvännen (‘The Friend of Peace’), 70 Free Church, 7, 68, 69 FRELIMO (Liberation Front of Mozambique), 147 French Revolutionary Wars (1792–1815), 17, 18, 22, 31 Fröberg, Gerda, 93, 94 Fyn (Denmark), 45 G Galtung, Johan, 137 Genuine Finns, 115

German Confederation, 44 German Social Democratic Party (SPD), 64, 67 Germany, 93; alliances with, 115; appeasement policy with, 7; cooperation with, 114, 115; occupation of Denmark/Norway, 88; occupation of Norway, 53; Schleswig Wars (1849–52/1863–64), 46–48; socialists in, 65, 66; West Germany (see West Germany) Global South, 10, 11, 135, 141, 143, 146 governments, democratic control of, 42–43 Great Britain: Finland/Sweden languages, 120 (see also languages); Lotta movement and, 100; maritime neutrality and, 20, 21; neutrality in European wars, 22, 26; Schleswig Wars (1849–52/1863–64), 46–48 Great Depression, 141 Gripenstedt, J.A., 46 Grotius, Hugo, 17 Gustav IV Adolf (King), 19, 20, 22, 46 H Hackzell, Antii, 52 Hägglöf, Ingemar, 119 Hague Convention of 1907, 49 Hammarskjöld, Dag, 3, 50, 163 Hans Blix Centre (Stockholm University), 2 Hansson, Per Albin, 73 Hedlund, Sven Adolf, 69 Helvetic Republic, 23 herrnhutarna, 68 Hillebrand, Karl-Gustaf, 123 Hitler, Adolf, 99, 115. See also Germany; Second World War Holtz, Uwe, 138, 144 Holy Alliance, 26 humanitarian work, Lotta movement, 105 I imperialism, 67 indelningsverket (conscription system), 71 inequality, addressing, 134. See also equality

168 • Index

inflation, 140 internationalism, 67, 68 International Peace Bureau (IPB), 7, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66 international peace movement, 63–68 international relations, 1 International Socialist Bureau (ISB), 64 invasion of Norway, 38 Italy, 51 J Jakobson, Max, 116 Japan, 93 Jaurès, Jean, 66 Jensen, Albert, 78 Jerneck, Magnus, 46 Jonasson, Jonas, 69 K Kant, Immanuel, 42 Karlstad Convention, 81 Kekkonen, Urho, 119, 122 Key, Ellen, 8, 79, 92, 105 Koht, Halvdan, 51 Kreisky, Bruno, 140 L labour movements, 71 Lagercrantz, Olof, 123 Landskrona club, 73 languages: during Cold War, 119–21; common Nordic language, 114; Finnish school committee (Läroverketskommitté), 121–23; FinnoUgric language family, 121; Genuine Finns, 115; peace (Finland), 114–17; Swedish, 10; Swedish speakers, 115 Läroverketskommitté (Finnish school committee), 121–23 Larsson, Carl, 8, 79 Laville, Helen, 92, 97, 100 League of Nations, 3, 51, 115 liberal/bourgeois peace movement, 63, 64 liberation movements, 144–46, 148 Lidbom, Carl, 142 Lidestad, Madelene, 92 Lindhagen, Anna, 79

long peace, 17–19 Lotta movement, 87–88; in the 1960s, 102–4; Cold War and, 104–6 (see also Cold War); humanitarian work, 105; international contacts, 99–102; peacetime and, 94–99; Second World War, 93–94; Swedish women’s military auxiliaries, 88–90; uniforms, 100; women defence organizations, 90–93; women’s auxiliaries and (in other countries), 99–102; women’s movements, 90–93 Low Countries, 18, 23 Lundeberg, Christian, 79 M Malmborg, Mikael af, 31 Malmö Club, 73, 74 Manchester School, 68 Mansson, Fabian, 73 mare clausum (closed sea), 19 Maritime Law (1856), 29, 30 maritime neutrality (1794–1805 [Sweden]), 19–22 market economies, 139, 140–42 Marx, Karl, 67 Marxism, 67 Mazzini, Giuseppe, 67 Mexico, 26 migrant workers, 10 militarism, 77 militarization, 92. See also wars modernization of society, 102–4 Möller, Gustav, 73 Molotov-Ribbentrop pact, 52 mothers of humanity (Key), 105 Mugabe, Robert, 147 Mukono, Noel Gabriel, 147 N Namibia, 144 Napoleonic Wars, 5, 17, 22, 43 National Act of 1814, 75 nationalism, 92 national security, 1 NATO, 4, 12, 101, 118, 126, 139, 149 Nazi Germany, 2

Index • 169

Neoliberal Society, 68 Netherlands, 10, 134–36. See also NorthSouth Conflict neutrality: Cold War, 112–14 (see also Cold War); Congress of Vienna (1814–15), 22–24 (see also Congress of Vienna [1814–15]); Crimean War (1853–56), 27–30; declaration of, 17; language peace (Finland), 114–17; maritime neutrality (1794–1805 [Sweden]), 19–22; policies of, 39; post-war, 118–19; preservation of during Second World War, 50–53; proclamations, 69; rules of, 49; strategic exposure of neutrals during First World War, 49–51; in Sweden, 1, 5, 17–19; in Switzerland, 23, 24; women and, 104 neutralization, 22–24, 30, 31 New International Economic Order (NIEO), 136, 137–40 New Left, 139, 149 Nicholas (Tsar), 28 Nicholas I (Tsar), 47 Nobel, Alfred, 72 non-governmental organizations (NGOs), 92, 95, 118, 123 non-involvement in wars, 40 Nordic culture, traditions and, 114 Nordic Free State Association, 68 Norgehjälpen (Aid for Norway), 98 North-South Conflict, 134–36; liberation movements, 144–46; market economies, 140–42; New International Economic Order (NIEO), 136, 137–40; production/uncertainty of knowledge, 147–49 North Vietnam, 145 Norway, 10; defensive alliance (1936), 51; forced unions, 62–63; German occupation of, 53, 88; invasion of, 38; Parliament (stortinget), 25; Second World War, 25, 39; Sweden-Norway (1794–1856) foreign policies, 17–19 (see also foreign policies [Sweden]); Swedish-Norwegian War (1914), 2; Union Crisis (1895), 62, 68; Union Crisis (1905), 62, 68, 74–81; wars, 38

nuclear war, risk of, 3 Nyman, Lena, 103 O Orthodox Church, 28 Oscar I (King), 27, 32 Oscar II (King), 39, 71, 76 Östberg, Kjell, 91 Österdahl, Herman, 73 Ostpolitik, 145 Ottoman Empire, 28 P Paasikivi, J.K., 116, 117, 122 Palm, August, 71 Palme, Olof, 3, 4, 11, 134, 135, 142, 143, 148, 149 Paris Declaration (1856), 29, 30 Parker, Hyde, 21 Parliament (stortinget [Norway]), 25 Partnership for Peace (PfP) programme, 4 Patriotic Front, 147, 148 Paul (Tsar), 21 Pax Suecia, 1–12, 161, 162, 163. See also peace peace: balance of power, 46–48; bourgeois peace movement, 63, 64, 67, 68–72; definition of, 68; equality and, 134–36 (see also equality); history of, 11; international peace movement, 63–68; language peace (Finland), 114–17; liberal/bourgeois peace movement, 63, 64; long peace, 17–19; Nordic country experiences during World Wars, 48–49; role of Finland and, 112–14; Scandinavian war experiences (19th century), 43–46; staying out of wars, 38–40; strategic exposure of neutrals during First World War, 49–51; in Sweden, 1; threats to, 62–63 peacekeeping tasks, 137 Peace of Paris of 1856, 29, 30. See also Crimean War (1853–56) peace operations (UN), 1 Peace Prize (Nobel), 72 peacetime, Lotta movement and, 94–99 Peace Treaty of Kiel 1814, 74

170 • Index

Pearson Report of 1969, 137 People’s House, 104 Petter, over (Petter kom), 103 Poland, 114 Policy of 1812 (Sweden), 24 Populorum Progressio of 1967, 150 Portugal, 145 Posse, Arvid, 68 post-war neutrality, 118–19 power, balance of, 40–42, 46–48, 51–53 production/uncertainty of knowledge, 147–49 Pronk, Jan, 139, 140 propaganda campaigns, 72, 73 Protest Meetings, 71 Prussia, 21, 23, 45, 47 PvdA (Dutch Labour Party), 135, 147 Q Quaker community, 64, 68 R racism, 144 Rädda barnen (Save the Children), 95, 98, 101 rådplägning (consultation conference [1946]), 96 Ramstedt, Johan, 79 Red Cross, 9, 95, 96, 99 refugees: camps, 95; Finland, 90 Reuterholm, Gustaf Adolph, 19 Rhodesia, 144 Riksdag (Swedish parliament), 3 Röhner, Paul, 145 Rothstein, Robert, 40, 42 rules of neutrality, 49 Runeberg, Johan Ludvig, 89 Russia, 19, 21; Aland Islands, 29, 30; naval bases, 25; Schleswig Wars (1849–52/1863–64), 46–48. See also Soviet Union Russian-Japanese War of 1904–1905, 68 Russian Revolution, 9 S Salvation Army, 101 Sandler, Rikard, 52

satellites, Soviet Union, 93 Save the Children (Rädda barnen), 95, 98, 101 Scandinavian war experiences (19th century), 43–46 Scandinavism movement, 27 Scheel, Walter, 146 Scherp, Joakim, 42 Schleswig Wars (1849–52/1863–64), 6, 46–48 Schlieffen-plan, 49 Schmidt, Helmut, 138, 140, 141 Second Danish-German War of 1863–64, 39 Second Development Decade, 134, 137 Second International (SI), 7, 62, 63, 64, 144, 145 Second League of Armed Neutrality, 21 Second Schleswig War (1864), 43, 45, 46–48 Second World War, 2, 3, 4, 8, 12, 25, 31, 161, 162; alliances with Germany, 115; appeasement policy with Germany, 7; balance of power during, 51–53; Denmark, 39; Finland, 26; German occupation of Denmark/Norway, 88; Lotta movement, 93–94; Nordic country experiences during, 48–49; Norway, 25, 39; post-war neutrality, 118–19; Sweden during, 17; women during, 9 Secret Committee (Swedish Parliament), 45 security policies (Sweden), 4 self-preservation, 41 Seven Years’ War (1756–57), 19 shipping under neutral flags, 19, 20. See also maritime neutrality (1794–1805 [Sweden]) SLK (Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakarer), 87, 88, 90, 91, 94, 95. See also Lotta movement Sluga, Glenda, 92, 100 Social Democratic Party (SPD), 139 Social Democratic Workers’ Party (Socialdemokratiska arbetarpartiet– SAP), 62, 72, 73, 76, 87

Index • 171

Social Democratic Youth League, 73 Socialist International (SI), 136 socialist/labour movement, 64 socialists in Germany, 65, 66 socialist youth parties, 72–74 Söder, Karin, 150 solidarity, advocacy of, 134, 137, 143 South Africa, 144, 145 Soviet Union, 3, 10, 48, 52, 114, 115, 148; Cold War and, 113 (see also Cold War); Finland on border of, 126; satellites, 93 Sparre, Anna, 95 Staaf, Karl, 49, 81 Staafflagarna, 81 states: balance of power, 40–42, 46–48; democratic control of governments, 42–43; domestic unity and cohesion, 42–43; non-involvement in wars, 40; Nordic country experiences during World Wars, 48–49; strategic exposure, 40–42; strategic exposure of neutrals during First World War, 49–51. See also Sweden Stockholm University, 2 stortinget (Parliament [Norway]), 25 strategic exposure, 40–42 student education: Finnish school committee (Läroverketskommitté), 121–23; language decisions in education, 123–25 Sundblad, Carl, 69 Sundevall, Fia, 87 Svenska Dagbladet, 95 Svenska Europahjälpen (Swedish Aid for Europe), 98 Svenska Journalen, 95 Den Svenska Lottan (the Swedish Lotta), 99 Sweden: alliance with Finland, 117; appeasement policy with Germany, 7; bond with Finland, 113; bourgeois peace movement, 68–72, 78; Charles XIV John (King) (see Charles XIV John [King]); Cold War and, 112–14 (see also Cold War); cooperation with Germany, 114, 115; defence plans, 25; defensive

alliance (1936), 51; equality abroad and in, 142–44; Finnish language and, 114–17 (see also languages); forced unions, 62–63; foreign policies, 1, 31 (see also foreign policies [Sweden]); involvement in First World War, 50; lack of wars since 1814, 38, 39; language decisions in education, 123–25; languages during Cold War, 119–21; Lotta movement, 87–88 (see also Lotta movement); maritime neutrality (1794–1805), 19–22; modernization of, 104–6; neutrality in, 1, 5, 17–19; neutrality in Crimean War (1853–56), 27–30; neutrality with Denmark, 27; non-involvement in wars, 40; NorthSouth Conflict, 134–36 (see also NorthSouth Conflict); peace and, 1; Policy of 1812, 24; post-war neutrality, 118–19; racial superiority and, 90; during the Second World War, 17; security policies, 4; Swedish women’s military auxiliaries, 88–90; Union Crisis (1895), 62, 68; Union Crisis (1905), 62, 68, 74–81; wars, 38 Sweden-Norway union: Finnlandisierung Years (1812–34), 24–27; foreign policies (1794–1856), 17–19, 27 Swedish Aid for Europe (Svenska Europahjälpen), 98 Swedish Good-Templars, 69 Swedish language, 10 the Swedish Lotta (Den Svenska Lottan), 99 Swedish-Norwegian War (1914), 2 Swedish parliament (Riksdag), 3 Swedish Peace and Arbitration Association (Svenska freds- och skiljedomstolsföreningen- SFSF), 7, 62, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72 Swedish Social Democratic Party (SAP), 7, 10, 72, 147 Swedish speakers, 115. See also languages Swedish Women’s Voluntary Defence Organization, 8, 9. See SLK (Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakarer) Switzerland, 18, 22, 23, 24

172 • Index

T The Tales of Ensign Stål (Fänrik Ståls sägner), 89 Tanner, Väinö, 115 Tanzania, 138 temperance movement (Vita bandet), 90 Thirty Years War (1618–48), 38 Tiden, 70 Tinbergen Report, 137 Todenhöfer, Jürgen, 145 Tornbjer, Charlotte, 90, 91 traditions, Nordic, 114 Treaty of London (1839), 23 U UN Conferences on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), 137 unemployment, 140 unification of Scandinavia, 27 uniforms, Lotta movement, 100 Union Crisis (1895), 62, 68 Union Crisis (1905), 62, 68, 74–81 unions, forced unions, 62–63. See also forced unions United Kingdom (UK), 3 United Nations (UN), 1, 92, 163; General Assembly (1970), 134; internationalism and, 137; New International Economic Order (NIEO), 136, 137–40 United States of America (USA), 3, 148; American Revolutionary War (1776–83), 19, 20, 21; Cold War and (see Cold War); diplomacy, 97 University of Helsinki, 117 USSR. See Soviet Union Utrikesexpeditionen, 20 V Vietnam, 138, 148 Vita bandet (temperance movement), 90 Vital, David, 42 von Heidenstam, Verner, 79 von Suttner, Bertha, 65 W Wahlbäck, Krister, 120, 126 Wallenberg, K. A., 50

Wallenberg, Raoul, 4, 102 Wallström, Margot, 4 wars: American Revolutionary War (1776–83), 19, 20, 21; Anglo-Dutch Wars (1650s/1670s), 18; avoiding, 6; Boer War (1899–1902), 68; Cold War, 3, 100, 163 (see also Cold War); Crimean War (1853–56), 18, 27–30, 39, 51; Denmark, 38; Finnish Civil War (1918), 88, 116; Finnish War of 1808–09, 21, 89; First Danish-German Wars of 1848–1852, 39; First Schleswig War (1848), 44, 45; First World War, 6, 89, 112 (see also First World War); French Revolutionary Wars (1792–1815), 17, 18, 22, 31; Napoleonic Wars, 5, 17, 22, 43; Nazi Germany, 2 (see also Second World War); neutrality and, 112–14 (see also neutrality); non-involvement in, 40; Norway, 38; refugees, 90; risk of nuclear war, 3; Russian-Japanese War of 1904–1905, 68; Scandinavian war experiences (19th century), 43–46; Schleswig Wars (1849–52/1863–64), 6; Second Danish-German War of 1863–64, 39; Second Schleswig War (1864), 43, 45, 46; Second World War, 2 (see also Second World War); Seven Years’ War (1756–57), 19; staying out of, 38–40 (see also peace; Sweden); Sweden, 38; Swedish-Norwegian War (1914), 2; Thirty Years War (1618–48), 38; Winter War (1939–40), 99, 113, 123 Washington, George, 19, 20 Wavrinsky, Edvard, 69 Weimar Republic, 141 West Germany, 10, 146; North-South Conflict, 134–36 (see also North-South Conflict); social democrats and, 137. See also North-South Conflict Wilford, Hugh, 97, 100 Winter War (1939–40), 99, 113, 123 Wischnewski, Hans-Jürgen, 145, 147 Wicksell, Knut, 71 womanhood, modernization of, 103 women: inclusion and, 105; Lotta movement, 87–88 (see also Lotta

Index • 173

movement); neutrality and, 104; SLK (Riksförbundet Sveriges Lottakarer), 87; Swedish women’s military auxiliaries, 88–90; women defence organizations, 90–93; women’s movements, 90–93 Women’s Committee for Spanish and French Children (Kvinnokommitten för spanska och franska barn), 101 Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (Internationella kvinnoförbundet för fred och frihet), 101 Women’s International League of Peace and Freedom (WILPF), 8

Womens’s Organization’s Cooperation Committee for Temperance (Kvinnoorganizationernas samarbetskommité för nykterhet), 101 Y Young Democrats, 8, 73 Young Socialists, 8, 73, 74, 77, 78, 80 YYA Treaty (1948), 118 Z Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU), 147