Breaking the Ice: Can Sweden’s Hockey and Society embrace new Names and Faces?

Welcome to Day 22 of July's UBC.

You thought that because it's summer, you'd get away without a post about ice hockey? Well, I do have to live up to the name of my blog now, don't I.

Watching the Men’s Ice Hockey World Championship in Sweden earlier this year, I couldn’t help but notice how “homogenous” the Swedish team’s player names were: Karlsson, Andersson, Lundqvist, Eklund. 

If only Colin’s school hadn’t started again, we might have stayed longer in Stockholm to catch a live game at the Avicii Arena and soak in that electrifying atmosphere firsthand.

Sweden isn’t alone in this. Despite increasingly diverse populations, the Scandinavian national hockey teams Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Denmark are still almost entirely made up of players with local, very Nordic-sounding names. One notable exception is Sweden’s Mika Zibanejad, whose father is Iranian. Why are there so few players with immigrant backgrounds on these teams? For many immigrant families, hockey isn’t part of their cultural background, and it comes with a steep price tag. Equipment, club fees, and the need for parental time and transport all create high barriers to entry.

But there’s hope. Cities like Stockholm and Malmö are running grassroots programs to introduce hockey to more diverse communities, offering affordable gear and easier access. Maybe the next Zibanejad is already learning to skate, just without the traditionally Swedish surname.

This made me curious about Sweden’s broader demographics. Roughly 25% of the population are foreign-born, many from Syria, Iran, Iraq, Somalia, and Afghanistan. Sweden’s open-hearted reputation and generous welfare system have attracted millions over the years, but the reality of integration often falls short of the ideals. 

University-educated migrants, especially refugees, are still three times more likely to be unemployed than native Swedes. Language barriers, non-recognition of foreign qualifications, and discrimination contribute to this divide.

Overall unemployment in Sweden hovers around 10% in early 2025, but among foreign-born workers, it’s three to four times higher. Even candidates with similar qualifications often struggle to get interviews if they have “foreign-sounding” names. Employers often cite weak Swedish skills and unfamiliarity with local workplace culture as challenges, and those who do break through talk about the uphill battle of networking and fitting in.

Contrast this with Denmark, where integration policies are more conditional - requiring language tests, civic exams, and proof of financial independence for residency. Sweden has traditionally avoided such mandatory steps, relying instead on universal rights and support. 

But recent policy shifts suggest change is underway.

One surprising new development is Sweden’s introduction of generous financial incentives - up to 350,000 SEK (around USD 37,000) - to encourage certain migrants to voluntarily return to their countries of origin. This policy targets those whose asylum applications were denied or who face integration challenges. It’s part of a broader political shift toward stricter immigration and integration rules, including mandatory language and civic knowledge tests and tighter residency and family reunification requirements.

While the “incentives to leave” policy has sparked international attention, uptake remains low, and critics argue it sends a troubling message: That those who don’t integrate quickly aren’t truly welcome. It marks a significant departure from Sweden’s historically open approach.

Digging deeper, this shift reflects broader political changes in Sweden. The Sweden Democrats, a right-wing party with growing influence over immigration and crime policies, have fueled intense national debate. Despite their name, their agenda offers little in democratic inclusiveness. Although not officially part of the government, their influence is strong enough to shape policy decisions. Sweden now faces the difficult challenge how to uphold its tradition of openness and inclusion while addressing genuine public concerns about integration and safety.

A Wider European Challenge

Sweden’s struggles with voluntary returns and integration reflect a common challenge across welfare states. For example, in Switzerland, attempts to deport criminal foreigners or rejected asylum seekers often stall due to home countries refusing to accept returnees or lack of valid documentation. These legal and practical hurdles make it difficult for authorities to enforce removals, raising tough questions about how social systems can balance openness with enforcement.

This shows that the debate over immigration, integration, and community cohesion is complex and not unique to Sweden.

Bottom line: Sweden wants newcomers to stay and succeed. The institutions are in place to support this, but for many migrants, entering the workforce, mastering Swedish, and building social networks can feel like sprinting uphill.

Do you think offering ‘incentives to leave’ is a fair approach to integration challenges, or does it risk undermining the values sports and communities try to promote?