How Sweden became a country of big-state libertarians

Few ideological causes ever united Bernie Sanders, an American politician so left-wing he could run for office as a European centrist, and Charlie Kirk, a Trumpian firebrand. A rare point of agreement among them, oddly, was the appeal of Sweden. To the gruff senator the Scandinavian country is a wellhead of socialist good sense that America should emulate. For the conservative stalwart, who was murdered a year ago while preaching his right-wing credo at a university, the home of IKEA and Spotify was equally worthy of admiration. Yet to him Sweden thrived not because of its large state but in spite of it—it was all down to an innate don’t-tread-on-me individualism a Texan might recognise.

That two opposing sides of the political spectrum credit their own ideas for the success of one of the world’s better-run places is not surprising. What might be is that both have a fair claim: Sweden is the paradoxical home of individualism done collectively.

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The case for Sweden being a socialist Utopia is as traditional as its cinnamon buns. This is a country that soaks the rich—the top rate of income tax is a wealth-clobbering 52%—to fund a government whose spending amounts to nearly half of GDP, among the highest in the world. The welfare state in Sweden is as famous as its flat-pack furniture. The mollycoddling literally starts in the cradle; new parents are showered with up to 480 days of paid leave. Other lefty shibboleths include free universities, low income inequality and the rich world’s most sweeping rent controls. Two-thirds of working Swedes belong to a trade union, the most of any country bar tiny Iceland. All this brotherhood-of-man stuff is reflected in politics: next month the centre-left Social Democrats will come top for the 33rd straight parliamentary election, a streak going back over a century (though the party has spent time out of power as rivals have formed ruling coalitions).

Yet it is equally fair to argue that Sweden has a libertarian side. Yes, income taxes are eye-watering and redistribution higher than free-marketeers might advocate. But in many other ways the country cherishes individual freedoms as ferociously as a Montana survivalist. The state may be large, but public services in Sweden are often delivered by the private sector: around a third of Swedish children graduating from high school do so at an institution run by non-state operators, many of them run for profit. Sweden is a rare country with no inheritance tax. During the covid-19 pandemic, it stood out for imposing fewer restrictions than most countries, whether strict lockdowns or mask mandates. It lacks a national minimum wage, bucking the norm in rich economies (including America). Employers are largely free to hire and fire, unlike in most of Europe. All this has resulted in Sweden having around 50% more billionaires per person than America. If this is socialism, it is a variant that is surprisingly good for yacht sales.

In their rush to claim credit for Sweden’s success, both sides get part of the story wrong. The socialist case was more accurate before the state was sharply slimmed down in the early 1990s. The libertarians gushing about the lack of a minimum wage fail to grasp that in most sectors pay rates are agreed by unions haggling with employers—hardly the stuff of Milton Friedman’s dreams.

But the Scandinavian paradox exists because something more curious is afoot. For Sweden is indeed different. In developed countries collectivism and individual liberty are generally treated as rivals: the more responsibility government assumes, the less room remains for citizens to fend for themselves. Sweden followed a different path. During the 20th century the state expanded not merely to soften inequality or insure people against hardship, but to reduce their reliance on other people—including their own families. A large impersonal state is seen as bolstering autonomy: when in need, Swedes feel it is better to be beholden to an impersonal bureaucracy than to a parent or some charity. Seen this way, a bigger state translates into more freedom, not less.

The upshot is what Henrik Berggren and Lars Tragardh, two historians, call „statist individualism”. In their book „The Swedish Theory of Love”, newly updated in English, they argue that Swedes have come to prize relationships entered into freely rather than maintained by material necessity. Public child care helps women avoid financial dependence on husbands, state old-age homes liberate children from obligations to ageing parents, and so on. (Even marriage is a bit suspect: in France or Germany households are the basic unit of taxation, but in Sweden all adults file independently.) American parents sending their offspring to college must submit proof of their incomes for the youngsters to qualify for scholarships. In contrast, young Swedes are assumed to be on their own: the income of their parents is irrelevant. Their independence is a gift of the state, expensive as it is to sustain.

The elusive Swedish model

The historical development of a smallish European country may seem tangential to other Europeans, let alone Americans. Few polities can match the conditions that made Swedish collective individualism possible: seven centuries or so of rule of law, a deeply felt trust in the state, and a taste for consensus that can make the place feel stultifyingly conformist. Can Sweden itself maintain its unique path, now that a fifth of its population was born overseas?

But cross-border surveys of social attitudes suggest most countries are growing more like Sweden and its neighbours: secular societies that put self-expression ahead of deference to family or tradition. That makes Sweden’s peculiar settlement, a form of overbearing statism that has helped people achieve freedom not just from economic want but from social pressures, more than a Nordic curiosity. To outsiders in America and beyond, big-state libertarianism can be puzzling. To Swedes there is no contradiction: they just want to be left alone, and to do it together.

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