Recently, I came across an intriguing article in The Nordic Times – a pan-Nordic English language online newspaper. The headline read, “Sweden now the most multilingual country in the Western world”. Having divided my time between Australia and Sweden over the past three years, I can confirm that the perception of an ethnically homogeneous Scandinavia is outdated, but the title of the West’s most multilingual country still seemed an overstatement. However, like with most things, the Swedes have the statistics to back it up.
Sweden’s multilingual claim emerges from its unique education program. If a child speaks a language other than Swedish at home, then they are afforded an hour of instruction in this language each week. This is known as Mother Tongue Instruction (MTI), and according to the latest figures from the Swedish National Agency for Education (Skolverket),29 per cent of all 7–16 year olds are now eligible for this program. In Australia, just over 22 per cent of people use a language other than English at home.
Mother Tongue Instruction is paid for by the state and forms part of the school curriculum.
Unlike in Australia, where children may attend community-led Greek or Mandarin or even Swedish school on the weekend, MTI is paid for by the state and forms part of the school curriculum. This is driven by Sweden’s less liberal approach to governance than Australia’s, but also by a greater acceptance of multilingualism as a cultural norm. English is a compulsory subject from the age of eight through to school completion, and most adult Swedes have native-level fluency. Alongside this, all schools must offer French, German and Spanish as electives, with a take-up rate of close to 85 per cent.
Sweden also has official minority languages such as Finnish and Sámi, which are prominent in certain geographic areas. These languages have protections in law and education programs that are distinct from MTI. However, through MTI there are around 150 languages that the country’s education system supports.
In terms of numbers, Arabic dominates the program, with English, Somali and Serbo-Croatian following behind. Usually, five students in a municipality are needed to form a class, although the shift to online learning during the Covid-19 pandemic has made this more flexible. Teaching certification is also flexible for smaller languages such as West Africa’s Ewe and Edo, where any adult willing to spend some time assisting with literacy is deemed helpful.
The genesis of the MTI program came from a sense of responsibility, as I discovered when I spoke to Skolverket. Sweden’s post-Second World War economic boom left the country with severe labour shortages. To arrest these, Sweden turned towards southern Europe, with Italians, Greeks and Yugoslavians moving with their families to work primarily in manufacturing and agriculture. The expectation was that after a period of work these migrants would return to their countries of origin, and therefore their children needed to be equipped with the necessary literacy to re-integrate easily.
Local languages provide the ability to exist inside a culture, to understand its nuances, and to know what is happening beyond government policy and newspaper headlines.
The nature of this responsibility shifted in the 1970s with the emergence of multiculturalism in Sweden. A new policy was introduced that centred on two concepts for the maintenance of non-dominant languages within Swedish society: language as a right, and language as a resource. The latter concept is based on a state’s capabilities, not only through the cognitive benefits of multilingualism, but the international reach a country can gain from a multilingual population – both in terms of informal foreign connections, and the formal processes of state-level diplomacy.
As most diplomats would attest, simply conversing with a country’s elites in English doesn’t provide an intimate knowledge of that country. Local languages provide the ability to exist inside a culture, to understand its nuances, and to know what is happening beyond government policy and newspaper headlines. Rather than just something handy to have, Sweden has recognised these skills as vital national assets that must be actively cultivated. Australia’s attitude, however, is that they are not worth serious investment.
Yet there is a third concept of language learning that is currently consuming Sweden’s domestic politics. That is language as a problem. The rise of the nationalist Sweden Democrats – a party formed from a neo-Nazi movement – to the second-largest party in the parliament has been driven by anxiety over Sweden’s multicultural nature, as well as the very real issue of gang-related violence.
Although officially kept out of the current government, the Sweden Democrats provide confidence and supply to the coalition led by the Moderate Party under a formal set of conditions – known as the Tidö Agreement. This agreement has led to a formal inquiry into MTI and whether it affects students’ integration into Swedish society. The inquiry is set to report in December.
It is most likely that the inquiry will confirm the value of the program, disappointing the Sweden Democrats. Using MTI as a scapegoat obscures what may be a more difficult question about Sweden’s problems with integration – Swedes have a national disposition towards conformity and being reserved around strangers, which combine to create significant social barriers for newcomers. Being open to the teaching of multiple languages is one thing. Opening one’s mouth to use them is another.
