Sweden

*Some interviewees asked that their surnames be withheld because of the political nature of the interviews.

Malmo, Sweden – A very Swedish political tradition is playing out in Malmo, the country’s third-largest city. Rows of twee campaign booths, known as “election cottages”, are packed into a corner of the central square.

National polls have Sunday’s election on a knife-edge, with the centre-left opposition bloc led by the Social Democrats just a few percentage points ahead of the right-wing group – a gap that has tightened over the past month.

In the middle of the row, representatives of the Left Party and the far-right Sweden Democrats (SD), bitter rivals from opposite ends of the political spectrum, campaign a metre apart.

Migration is a key election issue. Multicultural Malmo, with more than a third of the city’s 368,000 residents born outside Sweden, has become the centre of the debate.

For the right, the city represents failures of integration, a cautionary tale it says of what happens when immigration goes unchecked. Beyond Sweden, Malmo draws disproportionate interest.

In 2017, the populist English politician Nigel Farage branded it the “rape capital of Europe”, a claim a leading Swedish criminologist dismissed as nonsense, while Germany’s far-right AfD has used it in its narratives about the dangers of immigration.

Strength in diversity

In the city’s town hall, a grand building with a Dutch Renaissance-style facade, Anfal Mahdi, an opposition councillor in Malmo for the Left Party, sits amid the splendour of green velvet chairs, historical oil paintings and royal portraits.

Right-wing politicians ignore the socioeconomic challenges of living in the areas built under Sweden’s “Million Programme”, she said, referring to an ambitious scheme to build one million new homes between 1965 and 1974.

It began as a social housing initiative for working-class Swedish families. In later decades, as many of those families moved out, the apartments were allocated to migrant and refugee newcomers.

Observers say what began as a utopian welfare project gradually became the physical framework of today’s segregated suburbs.

Mahdi, whose family fled Iraq after the Gulf War, grew up in one of these areas during cuts to the welfare state that had defined modern Sweden, as public spending tightened after its early-1990s economic crisis.

But what they lacked in welfare, they made up for in diversity, she said.

“I had friends from Bosnia, Palestine, Somalia and when we grew up we did not have much, but we leant on each other,” she said.

The city’s most famous son, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, grew up in Rosengard, a Million Programme estate on Malmo’s eastern side that police still classify as a “particularly vulnerable area”. The famous footballer regularly credits the area for shaping the skill and confidence that defined his career.

“It’s often in these neighbourhoods that people can shine; there is a sense of community that doesn’t exist elsewhere,” said Adam*, a 20-year-old florist who also grew up in one of the areas Sweden officially labels “vulnerable”.

He rejects the stereotypes associated with Malmo, saying young people here are far more concerned with the cost of living, finding work and the everyday pressures of getting by.

Mahdi shared this sentiment, saying “wallet politics”, relating to healthcare and unemployment, are central issues for all sections of society.

Healthcare tops voters’ concerns nationally, while unemployment in Malmo, at around 11 percent, is among the highest of any Swedish municipality.

But not everyone sees it that way.

Lena, a 78-year-old campaigner for the Moderate Party, which leads the right-wing bloc, believes integration along with schooling are taking centre stage. At the last election cycle, it was care for the elderly, she said.

Jacob, a 19-year-old resident who was speaking to representatives of various parties, said a taboo has been broken with more young people turning right, including towards the SD, now polling as Sweden’s second-largest party.

The far-right party with neo-Nazi roots could enter government for the first time if the right-wing bloc wins: Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson has promised cabinet posts, including the migration portfolio.

‘Divisive politics’

Sara, a woman in her twenties of Palestinian heritage, said “divisive politics” are normal now. The rhetoric around immigration and Islam in particular has left her feeling some “don’t want integration or even assimilation, they just want you to leave”.

Under the current right-wing government, many teenagers who grew up in Sweden with their families were ordered to leave on turning 18 while their parents were allowed to stay. The government paused the separation in March after a public outcry and moved to reform in June.

In February, the Swedish Migration Agency ordered an eight-month-old boy born in the country, Emanuel, to be deported alone to Iran while the rest of his family kept their permits.

The system concerns Binto Drammeh, whose father is of Gambian heritage.

“Our uncle was made to leave as he didn’t meet the income threshold,” she told Al Jazeera.

The government has repeatedly raised the salary threshold for work permits, most recently in June, when it increased from 80 to 90 percent of the Swedish median wage.

Failing to meet it could ultimately lead to a deportation order.

Criminal networks

Crime is another main election issue.

With a population of 10.6 million, Sweden has one of Europe’s highest rates of deadly gun violence, even though lethal violence fell last year to its lowest level since 2012.

Among the challenges, criminal networks are recruiting children as young as 12 to transport weapons, sell drugs and carry out contract killings. In 2024, Danish gangs were found to be hiring Swedish teenagers to carry out shootings and bombings.

How to tackle the problem divides the parties.

The right prioritises punishment and deterrence, while the left and centre-left emphasise tackling root socioeconomic causes, rehabilitation and preventive social work. The lines are not always clean, however: the Social Democrats backed lowering the age of criminal responsibility, while the Left, Green and Centre parties voted against it.

TikTok politics

Young voters appear more engaged than at the last election.

Lena of the Moderate Party said: “I haven’t met one person who said they won’t vote,” while Mahdi said the Palestine issue has had a galvanising effect.

“Right now, all the posts on my TikTok page are from party accounts; they got a lot of likes and views and many videos are trending,” said Jacob, the 19-year-old resident.

Yet some are undecided about whom to vote for, partly because of Sweden’s unusual bloc system. Built on the idea of consensus, it means a vote for one party’s policies may be diluted in coalition, or are hard to push through.

“I will be honest, I have not voted yet,” Adam said, as he looked out at the array of campaign booths next to his flower stand. “Young people are interested in politics, but many of us think that no matter who comes, nothing will really change.”

THE holiday destinations without the crowds that want MORE tourism have been revealed.

Intrepid has released its annual ‘Not Hot’ List, partnering with Globetrenders to look at alternative destinations to visit instead of the popular, oversaturated places.

Using both Intrepid’s local leaders and destination experts, along with trend forecasts, the study looks at three key elements – areas with few visitor numbers, their ability to welcome more tourists, and any new infrastructure for 2027 such as big events or transport systems.

When it comes to Europe, you might be surprised to realise there are still some Greek islands that don’t have the tourist crowds.

Intrepid named Alonnisos as a “not hot” destination which is a more sustainable holiday experience in the region.

They said: “Alonnisos is a slice of paradise that plays host to an array of aquatic and land-based delights, including the endlessly entertaining – and endangered – Mediterranean monk seals.”

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The island is actually home to the National Marine Park of Alonnisos and Northern Sporades (Europe’s largest marine protected area), as well as Greece’s only underwater museum, the Peristera shipwreck.

It remains off the radar for most tourists as you can’t fly to the island, with it only accessible by ferry or private yacht.

In 2024, it saw just 70,000 tourists – compared to its neighbour Skiathos’ 500,000 or Santorini’s 3.4million.

Intrepid’s eight-day Sail Greece excursion which includes a trip to Alonnisos starts from £2,102.

Another European destination highlighted was Liepāja, a beach city in Latvia.

Nicknamed the Baltic Mediterranean, next year it will become Europe’s Capital of Culture, meaning hundreds of events, festivals and shows.

Just under 120,000 tourists visited last year, meaning you’ll get the five-mile, white sand beach all to yourself.

To get there, Ryanair fly to Palanga from London Stansted for £25, which is around an hour from Liepāja

Sweden‘s Dalsland made the top 10 list as well, for being “unspoilt and unexplored”.

Around two hours from both Gothenburg and Oslo, it is known as Sweden‘s ‘Lake District’ for all of its outdoor activities from wild camping to kayaking and hiking.

Just 320,000 people visited last year, compared to the capital of Stockholm which saw 16million.

Other destinations on Intrepid’s list included Samburu National Reserve in Kenya, named for being the place for both “crowd-averse safari fans” and an “emerging astrotourism destination”.

Georgia is fast becoming a new holiday destination, after both British Airways and easyJet launched direct flights to the capital Tbilisi last year.

But Intrepid praised Mestia as an alternative, quieter place which, while popular with neighbouring tourism, is set to become bigger with international tourism due to new infrastructure plans.

Otherwise it is popular as an outdoor adventure holiday destination, with both hiking and skiing experiences.

Also mentioned was the Northern Highlands in Jordan, a green “alternative to the country’s iconic landscapes” while “Arctic tourism” was highlighted for visiting Whitehorse in Canada.

Timor-Leste, one of South East Asia’s least-visited destinations was also highlighted, with new flight routes to connect the capital of Dili to major hubs such as Kuala Lumpar.

Sri Lanka‘s first long-distance walking trail Pekoe Trail (with a new 10-day Intrepid trip launched) and Chile‘s ‘route 7’ Carretera Austral rounded out the list.

I wasn’t exactly in “Sunday best”, but I had made some effort. Well, I’d changed my underwear for the first time in a couple of days and given myself a baby-wipe bath. Still, as we filed into the chapel at Alkavare, I felt more a member of an expedition than a congregation. We sat on the low wooden benches, waterproof jackets rustling and leather walking boots stamping on the flagstone floor to keep warm. Fortunately, the priest, Mogens Amstrup Jacobsen, appeared to be a “man of the Gore-Tex”, as well as a man of the cloth, as he unzipped his own black rain jacket to reveal his dog collar. As the service began, the Arctic wind whipped through cracks in the dry stone walls, insulated only with reindeer hair, and candles flickered in their brass sconces.

I had hiked to Alkavare following the Präststigen, or “Priests’ trail”, a 37-mile (60km) route from Kvikkjokk that could stake a claim as Europe’s wildest pilgrimage route, and certainly one of its most beautiful. The Präststigen follows the path that priests would once have taken to the chapel, built in 1788, to perform a service each summer, and today, on the last weekend in July, intrepid hikers and perseverant pilgrims can attend that same service.

Alkavare sits on the western border of Sweden’s Sarek national park, home to many of the country’s highest mountains and steepest valleys, yet with no campsites or tourist huts and only scant sections of the more famous Kungsleden trail. There are no other marked paths and to hike here means wild camping, a heavy backpack and a sense of adventure. It was described by famed Swedish diplomat Dag Hammarskjöld in 1926 as vår sista stora vildmark – “our last great wilderness”.

“I hate it when people use the term ‘wilderness’,” Christian Heimrot from Laponia Adventures, a local guiding operator, told me, as I joined him on the research exhibition for a new Präststigen group trip launching next year. “This is a living landscape, people have lived, worked and shaped this land for thousands of years.” Indeed, Sarek national park, (as part of the wider Laponia region), was recognised as a Unsesco World Heritage Site in 1996 for both its cultural and natural value.

The Sami, Europe’s last Indigenous population, have braided themselves into these landscapes as tightly and beautifully as the thread of pewter in their traditional handicrafts. The Sami word for the Laponia area is Sápmi, the same word they use to refer to themselves, highlighting the indelible link between people and their environment. Sarek sits on the Sami’s traditional reindeer herding grounds. While they might now use motorcycles and snowmobiles to follow and herd the reindeer, their knowledge of and kinship with this landscape remains undimmed.

So, not wilderness, then, but certainly wild. To even reach the start of the Präststigen, I had crossed the Arctic Circle on the road north from Luleå, met with Christian at his warehouse in Jokkmokk (home to the famous Sami winter markets each February) to load up our rucksacks for the six-night trip, and journeyed an hour farther west to the town of Kvikkjokk. From there the trailhead was a short boat ride across Sakkat lake.

The first section of the trail climbed steeply, switchbacks tightly coiled in birch woodland; wild blueberries and cloudberries littered the path. Eventually we left the woodland and reached the ridge for our first proper view of Sarek. Away to the north was the cloud-covered summit of Bårddetjåhkkå, where in 1911 Swedish geologist Axel Hamberg built an observatory to conduct meteorological and glacial studies.

We slept soundly, as we eased into the rhythms of wild camping – water collected from a gin-clear lake, a hearty supper of reindeer stew, and an eye mask to keep out the midnight sun. The next day we hiked deeper into Sarek via the Vállevágge, the skies the blue of the Swedish flag, the silence only disrupted by the occasional breath of wind.

We were following the guidebook Priest’s Path by Hans Fowelin (currently only published in Swedish), and while there was no marked trail, Fowelin had plotted a path of cairns we were supposedly to follow. While some were solidly built square towers, most were little more than one rock propped up against another, mere whispers of waymarkers in a landscape of scree and moraine.

Alongside the familiar buttercups and heather there were bright blue blossoms of mountain gentian, red ptarmigan berries and otherworldly looking wild angelica, a source of vitamin C for the Sami. Sarek was visited by botanist Carl Linnaeus during his epic expedition through northern Sweden in 1732, and the first part of the Priest’s trail is sometimes referred to as Linnaeus’s trail.

On our fourth day of hiking Alkavare chapel appeared on a bluff above the glacial blue waters of Alggajavvre lake, surrounded by high peaks and valleys. It was utterly beautiful. I had a grin on my wind-burnt face for most of the day, one that even wading across rivers (a common feature of hiking in Sarek), shin-high in glacial meltwater, failed to dim.

After rowing across the Miellätno river, using one of the rowing boats left on each bank by the park rangers, we climbed up to the chapel late on Saturday evening where Jacobsen greeted us with a beaming smile.

Over tea, he told us he had been dropped off by helicopter at Alkavare with his family on Friday morning and this was his first time leading the service here. Others in the diocese no longer volunteered. “It is physical, hard work and the days are long,” he said, before heading off to re-tar the chapel’s roof and fix one of the rowing boats that had come loose and floated away down the river – returned, later, swinging beneath a helicopter.

Sunday mass began promptly at 11am the following morning for our small band of pilgrims (we numbered 11 in total, including the priest). The altar had a simple wooden cross and cloths on loan from the church in Jokkmokk. They were in the poster paint palate of traditional Sami clothing and a reminder that it was for the Sami that the chapel had been originally built – not an act of benevolence, but as part of the forced Christianisation and eradication of their shamanistic beliefs in the 18th century.

After the service we sat outside for coffee and pastries, before beginning our hike home. Christian was keen that we hiked via Sweden’s point of inaccessibility or otillgänglighetspunkten, just over the border from Sarek in the Padjelanta national park. This is the country’s point furthest from any road or town, about 31 miles (50km) in fact, and is often cited as western Europe’s remotest too. Marked with no cairn or monument, just a circle of quartz stones and a trio of reindeer antlers, it felt no more or less remote than most of the previous week’s hiking. And I was struck that what made Sarek and the Präststigen special wasn’t just the scenery, as beautiful as it was, it was the people – the Sami, Hamberg and Linneaus, and the motley congregation we’d briefly joined, and it was a route firmly deserving of more visitors. “I told you,” Christian said, grinning, “It isn’t a wilderness.”

The trip was provided by Laponia Adventures, which will lead a guided, small-group trip along the Priest’s Path to Alkavare in July 2027, and offers equipment rental and advice for independent hikers. For more information on Sarek national park and northern Sweden, visit arcticsweden.com

This article is part of a series in which we speak to individuals who – due to a unique job, location or experience – share an insight they wish others could know.

What’s the one thing people should know? We’re all thinking differently about the same thing.

As a child, Constantina Makridakis, a 28-year-old jewellery designer from Greece, thought everyone could taste voices and names.

Her father’s name, Nicholas, tasted like caramel-coated chocolate, while her mother’s name, Maria, was pasta with prawns.

The tastes were usually pleasant; the name Paul, a rich chocolate liquor, was particularly delicious.

“I thought everyone had this ability,” she explained. “It seemed natural to me. We talk from our mouth, so it made sense [that] we also taste names and voices … it seemed connected to me, so I didn’t ask anyone about this.”

That was until one day in her late teens, when her sister, Amelia, whose name tasted sweet – often in the form of syrup or jam – told her about a documentary on synaesthesia.

After watching it, Makridakis realised she had a form of synaesthesia, a perceptual phenomenon in which sensory experience triggers another.

Music as colours

The experience of synaesthesia can vary significantly. For example, American singer-songwriter Billie Eilish experiences the names of days of the week as colours, numbers and shapes.

Hungarian composer Franz Liszt is also believed to have been a synesthete, experiencing musical notes as colours. In 1842, he is said to have confused musicians in the Weimar orchestra when he instructed them, “Gentlemen, a little bluer, if you please!”

Janina Neufeld, a researcher at the Centre of Neurodevelopmental Disorders at Karolinska Institutet (KIND) in Sweden, said that although it may seem surprising for non-synesthetes to hear about Makridakis’s experience, most of us can relate if we think about our own internal sensory associations.

“When we listen to music, most people can relate to the idea that sounds could be brighter, smaller or higher up in space … this is to some extent what a synesthete perceives,” she said.

It is estimated that 2 to 4 percent of the world’s population experiences some form of synaesthesia, although the true number may be higher, Neufeld said. Like Makridakis, many do not realise they have it – or that their experiences are unusual.

Neufeld herself experiences a form of spatial sequence synaesthesia, a milder variation that some people may have without realising. At KIND’s offices in Stockholm, she explained her version by closing her eyes and outlining a circle in the air with her finger, which she described as a full year.

On the circle, which she said exists in her “inner space” or mind, the year starts at the bottom of an undulating sphere, which she described as looking like a roller coaster track, and goes counterclockwise, with some months, such as December, longer than others.

Exploring the brain

How synaesthesia works on a neurological level is not yet fully understood, Neufeld explained.

One leading theory suggests that synesthetes may experience less “synaptic pruning” during childhood, a process in which neurons and synapses that are not needed are removed. For example, a child may strengthen the synapses related to a parent’s voice but prune those related to strangers, reinforcing useful connections and removing redundant ones.

The idea is that this pruning process is less extensive for people with synaesthesia, allowing extra cross‑sensory connections to remain. Neufeld, who has studied Makridakis’s case, said researchers have found strong evidence that sensory regions of people who experience synaesthesia exhibit more brain activation and increased interaction between different brain regions.

‘We see different things’

Makridakis said her synaesthesia can be over-stimulating at times. For example, if she is watching a film and an actor’s voice tastes like orange juice, she can find herself distracted by that sensory connection.

It can also lead to unhealthy temptations. The American accent tastes like Coca-Cola, which means when she is in the United States, she can find herself craving the sugary soft drink.

US President Donald Trump’s voice and name taste like melted cheddar cheese to Makridakis, while British actor Daniel Radcliffe, who played Harry Potter in the popular film series, tastes like chocolate milk, while US hip-hop star Eminem’s voice tastes like Cheetos.

Overall, though, Makridakis is fascinated by her perceptions and feels that if synaesthesia is studied more, it could lead to a deeper understanding of the human mind.

At times, she has flirted with the idea that synaesthesia could hold some spiritual meaning, especially since she can also experience a form in which a colour can shimmer around people. Her sister, for example, appears sometimes with a dark green halo around her.

If there is one thing non-synesthetes can learn from her experience, she said, it is that “we’re all thinking differently about the same thing”.

“We should always remember that everyone’s mind is completely different. We could say that the same colour is red; we could call it red, but we see different things,” she said.

Neufeld echoed this sentiment.

“Usually we think that everyone perceives the world similarly … we think sensory inputs are perceived the same, but synaesthesia shows there is more to the sensory experience; there are also a lot of internal associations and experiences that can be very rich,” she explained.

“Synaesthesia illustrates perfectly how differently we actually perceive the world.”

Other articles in the series:

A new influencer fad is ready to hit Instagram and TikTok by storm, three years after the croissant XXL by acclaimed French pastry chef Philippe Conticini won our hearts

If you were on social media in 2024, then you will know about the giant croissant.

The bloated continental breakfast item took the post-Covid world by storm, triggering food influencers to flock to Paris to film themselves marvelling at its impressive proportions.

Known as the croissant XXL, it was the doughy-brainchild of acclaimed French pastry chef Philippe Conticini. The 1kg whopper debuted in his Paris bakeries before making it across the Channel to Phillipe’s Islington cafe, inspiring other Instagram-savvy food creators along the way.

Christophe Michalak delivered the le big pain aux raisins (350g), Yannick Delpech dropped la chocolatine XXL and Parisian department store Galeries Lafayette tried big pain au chocolat (a relatively svelte 320g).

Type any of those names into the Instagram or TikTok search bars, and you’ll be inundated with photos of glamorous people attempting to cram the medium-dog-sized pastry into their mouths. Clearly, these videos are a hit. The first clip that comes up on Instagram is less than 10 seconds long and has 116,000 likes.

In social media terms, this is all very old news. The big croissant fad came and then, just as quickly, it went. But now there is a new big food trend on the scene. On a recent trip to Gothenburg, I visited the beautiful district of Haga, the city’s oldest neighbourhood. It’s a great place to explore, to wander down the pedestrianised cobbled streets packed with excellent homeware, furniture, book and clothing shops. And also Café Husaren. The cosy wood-paneled spot is the inventor of the massive ‘hagabullar’ cinnamon buns.

Stretching close to a foot from edge to edge, these enlarged treats are a significantly puffed-up, Instagram-friendly version of a good that is firmly baked into Swedish life.

The average Swede eats cakes and pastry equivalent to 316 cinnamon buns per year, according to the country’s tourist board, and the act of taking fika (a cake-and-food-focused period of time) is so important that two coffee breaks per day are an unwritten rule in many Swedish workplaces.

The hagabullen has been described as a “masterpiece and the epicentre of a luxurious fika”. One happy reviewer called them a “dream and very delicious, but only suitable for a person with great hunger.”

And this is the problem. The hagabullar are simply too big to be enjoyable. They contain too much stuff. While it is undeniably fun to buy novelty-sized things (foam fingers, big Chuppa Chups at airports, etc.), sometimes bigger is not always better. Particularly when it comes to food. The smaller something is, the stronger its ratio of surface area to innards is. The oversized croissants and hagabullar simply have too much inside and not enough outside to be tasty.

But then again, no one can tell that in an Instagram post. Nor can they see the waste that’s left over. The overly doughy croissants left to the pigeons; the belly-busting hagabullar that prove too much for an influencer to handle; the bin full of unfinished lattes bought so people can pose next to a pink wall in LA.

In fairness to Café Husaren, it’s not only an elegant place with an array of absolutely delicious baked goods, but it’s been selling the hagabullar for over 40 years. Far longer than the croissant XXL. Regardless, I was sad to see Swedes and tourists buying a hagabullar, snapping a pic and then discarding the majority of the sweet bun. Hagabullar sat, unloved, on several vacated tables close to mine.

Conticini’s XXL croissant is advertised as feeding eight people, but in reality, it is often nibbled by one or maybe two influencers, photographed, and then dumped.

They say that you eat with your eyes as much as with your stomach. While this is true, this kind of social media-friendly food is 90% for the eyes and far too little for the tum.

All of this is in service of an algorithm that rewards extremes, whether that be the biggest, the most extravagant (see Eating with Tod’s ‘tuna fight club video) or the grossest (see muckbang). It’s designed to shock in its extremity, which means it is ripe for ridicule.

Juliette Moreno is a Cordon Bleu-trained chef whose videos making fun of these trends have won her more than 400,000 Instagram followers. Her most recent efforts have seen Juliette create a huge Minion cookie, Monster energy drink soufflé, rat meringues, and hot dogs boiled in the dishwasher.

Her videos are funny because they take ideas that have been percolating on Instagram and TikTok to their most extreme possible end. She fills up the boot of a car with tiramisu so we don’t have to. Because we shouldn’t.

Around 645 million people didn’t have enough food to eat in 2025, according to the WHO, but the world produces food for two billion more people than currently exist. On a planet where Sudan and Gaza are currently facing famine, maybe we should give the big food videos a break for a while.

The idea of one bourse for the whole Nordic region has resurfaced.

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Reports on Wednesday, citing people familiar with the discussions, said industry alliance Nordic Compass is studying options including the consolidation of Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland’s national exchanges, as well as the harmonisation of their regulatory frameworks.

Nordic Compass told Euronews it is analysing a range of possibilities but that the work remains preliminary.

“Nordic Compass’ Capital Markets Track is working to improve opportunities to raise capital to support competitiveness across all stages, from start-up, venture, growth and scale-up to IPOs, as well as the ecosystem for Nordic listings,” said Christian Clausen, chair of the alliance’s Capital Markets Track and chairman for the Nordics at BlackRock.

“This includes analyses of a range of potential initiatives, including issues related to liquidity. The work is still at an exploratory stage, and no agreement has yet been reached on specific initiatives or conclusions,” Clausen explained to Euronews.

Nordic Compass was launched in May as a pan-Nordic industry alliance gathering more than 25 companies, foundations and organisations, among them Wallenberg Investments, EQT, Nordea, SEB, Nasdaq Nordic, Ericsson, Nokia, Saab, Ørsted and the Novo Nordisk Foundation.

Chaired by former Finnish prime minister Jyrki Katainen, it works across four tracks covering capital markets, deep tech, defence and energy.

The alliance’s first initiatives are due at a summit in Gothenburg on 4 and 5 November, where the capital markets proposal is rumoured to be presented.

The prize is considerable.

Nordic pension funds and sovereign investors manage close to $4 trillion (€3.43tn) and take in more than $175 billion (€3.43tn) a year, but that capital is spread across four separate markets rather than being pooled into one.

Who owns the exchanges?

Any merger would need the cooperation of three parties that do not answer to the alliance directly.

Nasdaq operates most of the region’s national bourses, Euronext owns Oslo’s stock exchange, and Euroclear plays a central role in settling Nordic securities trades.

Nasdaq did not respond to a request for comment.

Euronext signalled openness telling Euronews that through Oslo Børs, its securities depositories in Norway and Denmark, Nord Pool and Admincontrol, it has an established Nordic franchise and is “in dialogue with Nordic Compass about potentially contributing to practical measures.”

“Euronext welcomes initiatives aimed at making the Nordic capital markets even more competitive globally,” the exchange operator added.

“The region already benefits from strong market traditions, sophisticated investors and successful local ecosystems. The opportunity is to build on these strengths by making it easier for capital to flow across borders,” a spokesperson for the group told Euronews.

Euronext also pointed to its own multi-country structure as a template.

“Our experience demonstrates how deeper liquidity, shared technology and harmonised rules can benefit issuers and investors, while our federal model keeps local exchanges close to the markets they serve,” the exchange operator concluded.

What potentially emerges in Gothenburg in November will show whether the exploratory work has produced anything firmer than analysis.

Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden and the Faroe Islands back calls for Infantino’s resignation amid FIFA crisis.

Six Nordic football associations have delivered a united blow to FIFA President Gianni Infantino, declaring they have lost confidence in his leadership while demanding sweeping governance reforms at world football’s governing body.

The six Nordic FIFA members – Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden and the Faroe Islands – met in Helsinki and issued a rare joint statement on Sunday, backing calls for Infantino’s resignation from three major regional confederations.

They also supported demands for an independent investigation into his proposal to sell a stake in events like the World Cup to private equity investors, a plan that was quickly abandoned in the face of a global backlash.

“The six Nordic football associations have lost confidence in FIFA’s president and are concerned about the organisation’s governance and decision-making at the highest level,” they said in a statement.

“The Nordic football associations stand united with UEFA and support the measures that the organisation and its national member associations have jointly proposed.

“We expect FIFA to provide binding guarantees that the organisation’s governance or competitions will never again be opened up to private ownership.”

FIFA did not respond to Al Jazeera’s request for comment.

On Friday, Denmark’s football association pledged to find a credible alternative to Infantino in March’s presidential election.

Infantino is under pressure from three confederations to resign: UEFA, the AFC and CONCACAF.

The sport’s regional powerhouses in Europe, Asia, and North and Central America and the Caribbean have also discussed a potential vote of no confidence against the FIFA chief.

“We also support the demand made by AFC, CONCACAF and UEFA that a fully independent external investigation into the events surrounding the FIFA Forward Enterprise proposal be established,” the Nordic associations added.

“We also call on FIFA to initiate a comprehensive and independent review of its governance framework to determine whether it ensures the independence, checks and balances, transparency and accountability that were intended when FIFA adopted its reform programme in 2016.”

Infantino, who is seeking a fourth term until 2031 in next year’s election, is in the Dominican Republic this weekend, where he has met with officials of the Caribbean Football Union (CFU).

CONCACAF President Victor Montagliani had asked Infantino to stay away from a youth football tournament in the country, saying his presence would overshadow the event.

“This meeting of the presidents of CFU takes place in the environment of [an] under-14 youth tournament in the region, which actually is one of those tournaments that can take place thanks to the FIFA Forward programme,” Infantino said.

“So even more so a reason to be proud to be here and happy as well because it’s important to engage, to have a dialogue, to express views and opinions.”

Aug. 22 (UPI) — A 17-year-old girl is dead after a sword attack at a Swedish high school on Friday.

Three students were injured, two of them seriously, in the attack in Fagersta, Sweden.

The alleged attacker is an 18-year-old, male student of the school who carried out the attack while classes were in session Friday. He was arrested and the police are investigating the case as murder and attempted murder. They said they have no reason to believe there were more attackers involved.

The Brinelskolan School principal told local news Saturday that the attacker was a student there.

Vastmanland County said the two injured boys are ages 12 and 17, ABC News reported. The third person is also younger than 18 and was slightly injured. That person has been discharged from the hospital, Swedish News agency TT reported.

The teen girl’s body was found when police entered the school to secure the premises, authorities said.

Police said they fired shots at the attacker, but didn’t hit him. Sweden’s national police said they have carried out two searches of homes connected to the suspect and that they expect to interview many witnesses.

“That’s why we can’t give out too much information, because we don’t want to influence witnesses,” Police Chief Tommy Alriksson said.

No official information on the attacker’s motive has been released.

On Saturday morning, people gathered at a memorial site that the town created, carrying flowers and lighting candles, CBS News reported.

Fagersta city government said it created a crisis center in a sports hall near the school. Fagersta is a town of about 12,000 about 105 miles northwest of Stockholm.

Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson and opposition party leader Magdalena Andersson visited the memorial site to lay flowers.

“What must never happen has happened again,” Kristersson said.

Sweden’s parliamentary elections are scheduled for September, so the Swedish political parties suspended their campaigning Saturday.

School attacks have happened in Sweden several times in recent history.

In February 2025, 11 people, including the gunman, were killed in an attack on an adult education center in Orebro. It was Sweden’s worst-ever mass shooting. After the attack, the government tightened gun laws because the suspect had legally owned four rifles. He had brought three of them to the attack.

Two teachers were killed with a knife at a high school in Malmo in 2022, and an 18-year-old later confessed to the killings.

In 2015, three people were killed in a sword attack in Trollhattan, Sweden.

The Malm Whale at the Gothenburg Natural History Museum is the only stuffed blue whale in the world, and it’s also once of Europe’s strangest tourist attractions

Roughly 100 years ago, a young Swedish couple ruined it for the rest of us.

They were caught, trousers down, in the belly of the world’s only stuffed blue whale. Not quite the sex-positive Scandinavia it is today, the scandal led officials to snap its vast, gaping jaw shut, bringing an end to the days of ready access to the 16m long sea mammal.

“We must be content with the fact that it was two citizens of our own city that enjoyed this privilege,” the director of Gothenburg’s Natural History Museum said at the time, finding a silver lining in the moral outrage.

Although my efforts to track down the descendants of a couple that, I’d wager, are history’s only to have sex in a cetacean have so far failed, on a recent trip to Gothenburg, I fulfilled a long-held ambition to get inside a magnificent exhibit that remains the only real blue whale on display anywhere in the world.

OPINION

“We only open it on special occasions, such as election days, because the Swedish word for vote (val) is the same for the word for whale (val),” explained Stefen Örgårdm the museum’s current director, as we walked up wooden steps into the whale’s mouth.

On special occasions such as Christmas, when Santa hands out presents from inside the tum, the top jaw is cranked open in an unnatural but convenient way, allowing tall Nordic visitors to enter without bumping their heads, then move on into the belly.

It’s more of a local village hall than Jonah in there, the organs having long been stripped and placed in barrels of ethanol kept in the museum’s cellar. Two wooden benches running beneath simple drapery have taken their place. We looked out through the baleen-trimmed jaws of the leviathan as Stefen told me of the coming autumn’s new exhibition on unloved city animals and why we should reappraise them.

Today, blue whales are among the most beloved of all animals. Mysterious, elegant and massive.

“The biggest animal that has ever lived on our planet: a blue whale. … It’s far bigger than even the biggest dinosaur. Its tongue weighs as much as an elephant. Its heart is the size of a car. And some of its blood vessels are so wide that you could swim down them,” Sir David Attenborough said in Blue Planet. They are the ultimate Guinness World Record animal.

Their population has bounced back from 5,000 to 25,000, after decades of commercial hunting brought it down from a pre-whaling 300,000 peak.

Back in October 1865, when fisherman brothers Olof and Carl Larsson discovered the whale helplessly beached just off the Swedish west coast, the animals were reviled.

Charitably, it was fear of this vast, mysterious beast that caused the Larssons to do what they did next. I will not repeat the details of the two days of barbarity here. Suffice it to say the whale was killed. And then transported by three steamships and two coal barges into Gothenburg, where the naturalist Augustus Malm purchased the body.

“I will stuff everything,” he declared, leaping onto the collapsing carcase to deliver a speech to the assembled masses. And so he did.

Dozens of butchers, plied with as much beer as needed to withstand the violent smell, hacked it into parts, scooped the organs out and removed the skeleton.

There is something about whales that sends people a little mad. In Nobel Prize winner László Krasznahorkai’s book The Melancholy of Resistance, the arrival of a huge whale on a circus truck sparks a riot. Famously, Ishmael is driven loopy by Moby Dick. And so with the Gothenburg whale.

After days of feverish work, Malm was forced to rest as nausea hit. Realising the whale’s owner had gone, a horde of locals rushed in and snatched blubbery souvenirs. Thankfully, enough remained for the whale to be reconstructed.

Its skin and baleen was cured with arsenic, mercuric chloride and a top coat of colourless copal varnish before being placed onto a wooden frame, 30,000 zinc and copper pins holding it in place. The structure was built in four separable sections, making it easier to transport the whale on trucks to its later resting place in the museum’s great hall. A magnificent photo shows the whale’s head being rolled through a hole in the outer wall.

The whale, still pungent all these years later, remains the museum’s prized exhibit, only competing for the title with a magnificent stuffed elephant.

When in Gothenburg, the museum is the must-visit. But there is much else in Sweden’s second city that is also worth exploring.

Head to Haga, Gothenburg’s oldest neighbourhood, and wander down the cobbled streets. They’re packed with excellent homeware, furniture, book and clothing shops, as well as Café Husaren, a cosy wood-paneled spot known for its massive hagabullar cinnamon buns. These seem to be the Swedish version of the stupidly big croissants everyone photographed for their Instagram last year.

The neighbourhood is now pedestrianised, having been saved from mass demolition in the 1980s and built up from a rough, rundown area into the lovely spot it is today.

From there, hop on a tram or bus and head for the city’s Art Museum. A long day wouldn’t quite be enough to get around all six of its floors, so if in a rush, I recommend the Nordic Fin-de-Siècle section to take in the stunning nature paintings of late 19th-century Swedes, before giving the collection of Carl Larssons their dues.

If not defeated by the earlier hagabullar, consider filling up on Sweden’s (much superior) answer to McDonald’s, Max Burger, or picking up one of the country’s famously weird pizzas and heading home.

Like many second cities, Gothenburg is famous for its friendliness. But also for its terrible weather. There is a good chance you’ll be rained on.

With a sliced banana, pineapple, curry powder and peanut pizza under my arm, I retreated from the deluge to my Airbnb on the outskirts of town. Like Stockholm, you’re never more than ten minutes from the natural world in Gothenburg, or more than 20 from a lake or pretty serious forest. Robert’s place in Ugglum was but a short ride from the centre, but could’ve been deep in the woods of remote Sweden, such was the green surroundings and calm of the place.

This was no corporate holiday let landlord spinning multiple properties, but a family home costing around £200 a night where kids’ paintings decorated the walls and a Barbie Dream House stood proudly in the bedroom.

It is one of Airbnb’s Guest Favourite properties, a title reserved for the accommodation firm’s most rated properties. If you’re spending a little longer in the city, a whole host of Airbnb Experiences are available, such as exploring a local chocolate factory with a chocolatier, joining a seasoned sailor to tack down the coast, or trotting through the woodlands on horseback.

Getting to Gothenburg from the UK is quick and is easy. Direct flights from the UK to Gothenburg-Landvetter Airport are operated by British Airways from London Heathrow, Ryanair from London Stansted, Manchester, and seasonally from Edinburgh, and Norwegian from London Gatwick. Return flights are regularly available for around £30.

From the bus window, the ridge looks like a giant slumbering beast stretched deep green across the flat farmland. “It feels alive,” I say to the woman beside me. “Yes,” she answers. “It is where you would run for safety, don’t you think?”

I am in southern Sweden to explore Söderåsen national park, established in 2001 to protect more than 1,600 hectares (4,000 acres) of the larger Söderåsen ridgeline. Shaped over millennia by immense geological collisions, fractures, volcanic eruptions and ice ages, today it is one of northern Europe’s largest continuous protected broadleaf forests, and only 90 minutes by car from Copenhagen or, in my case, two hours by public transport.

The little village of Röstånga at the gateway to the park is where travellers stop for supplies from the supermarket before disappearing into the forest on foot, bike or horseback, and people gather for food, live music and art.

My room for the first night is in Villa Söderåsen, a grand timber-framed yellow and white guesthouse, which has stood at the park’s entrance since 1904. It was built for tourists arriving via the new railway in search of connection to nature. Sebastian and Åsa, the owners, want to continue that tradition. “We humans are as loud as elephants in the wood,” says Sebastian. “Sit quietly for half an hour and see what happens.”

That evening, I eat with strangers at long wooden tables outside the hip restaurant and live music venue Stationen. Music drifts out of open doors, adults chat around the fire, children run circles around us.

The next morning, Åsa recommends I take a dip in Odensjön (Odin’s Eye) Lake. “Some say it is bottomless,” she says. It’s almost perfectly round, edged by steep beech-covered slopes, and fed by underground springs. Fifteen minutes into the forest and I am there.

A woman making her way back to the village says: “There is a rock in the water, heated by the sun, sit there, let your body adjust.”

Grasshoppers trill, spider silk trails from branches, noble chafer beetles glimmer like the aurora borealis, a dragonfly rests electric-blue on my now empty walking boots. I swim, the circle of blue sky rippling, and emerge ready for anything.

A few years ago, scientists obtained a sediment core from the bottom of the lake, providing detailed information from the past 600 years of land-use history. This showed that in the 18th and 19th centuries the plateau was largely deforested. I would have been walking across a heath, repeatedly burned to improve grazing grounds. It is difficult to imagine as I move through endless layers of beech, interspersed at times with birch, oak and rowan, mossy trunks, roots like octopuses.

Once I start searching, the signs of human history are everywhere too, from hollow ways to clearance cairns and dry-stone walls.

Two hours of hiking later, I arrive at the second entrance to the park: Skäralid, a rift valley. The visitor centre Naturum, packed with information and playful exhibits, shares its premises with Café Italia. Both look out onto a picturesque dam. A ranger explains that much of the initial conservation efforts since designation as a national park involved the felling of non-native Norway spruce and the planting of broadleaved trees in its stead.

In search of solitude, I choose the wilder three-hour Hjortsprångsrundan or Deer Leap circular, a trail named after a prehistoric hunting method where people drove game over a narrow cliff shelf. I pick my way along it, across heather and bilberry, to perch on the hard gneiss bedrock that blushes a startling mineral pink. A buzzard swoops down from the branch of a gnarled oak.

The descent is like scrambling and slipping back through time into an entirely other world. Many of these slopes managed to escape the historical land clearances and thus are the closest to ancient woodland. But all around this area, ferns, lichen, fungi, seeds and spores are recolonising the land.

The scree slopes are dotted with springs pushed up from a subterranean lake and laced with streams that feed into the Skärån river. The scent in the bottom of the valley is heady, sweet and damp, bringing with it a keen awareness of how much is always happening just out of sight.

I rest on a wooden walkway, pop a wild raspberry in my mouth and watch a slowworm the length of my forearm slither past. Then, a sudden crashing through undergrowth. Wolf? Wild boar? Moose? A young stag steps from a pocket of alder trees, pawing the ground. We look at one another. The sun drops, and as it does its light rises up the walls of the ravine.

My room for the second night is in Söderåsens Skafferi, a vandrarhem, or wanderer’s home. The house glows like a lantern on the edge of the dark wood. The owner Elisabeth, who spent her childhood exploring Söderåsen on horseback, says the house was once the first nature school in Sweden.

On my final morning I climb to Kopparhatten, the park’s highest viewpoint at 212 metres, and hold up a booklet with an image of a painting from 1840 of this same vista, almost bare of trees. “We used to holiday in the south,” a couple tell me. “But we’re searching for cooler climates now.” I wonder what stories they will bring home.

Summer, all green infusion; autumn, rust and gold; winter, snow and stone; spring, wood anemones and paper-thin leaves. The national park feels like living proof that damaged landscapes can recover if nature, and humans, are given half a chance.

Accommodation was provided by Villa Söderåsen (doubles from 1,095 Swedish Kronor, about £85, B&B). Coco also stayed at Söderåsens Skafferi (doubles from around £78). Söderåsen national park has multiple wild campsites with wind shelters and barbecue areas. For information on public transport access, visit skanetrafiken.se