Nearly four decades after Sjobo municipality in southern Sweden became a focal point for anti-migrant sentiment, the town’s stance on immigration continues to resonate amid Sweden’s shifting political landscape. In a 1988 referendum, nearly 68 percent of Sjobo residents voted against accepting refugees, a decision that drew national and international attention and presaged ongoing debates about immigration in Sweden.
At the time, the Swedish government had sought to distribute refugees more evenly across the country, asking Sjobo, then home to around 15,400 people, to accommodate roughly 15 asylum seekers. The proposal sparked a divisive backlash. Sven-Olle Olsson, a municipal councillor who opposed the relocation plan, argued that future generations of Swedes would no longer be “blonde and blue-eyed,” reflecting fears about the cultural and demographic impact of immigration. Olsson then organized the referendum, a rare move in Sweden’s political practice, which deeply fractured the community. Residents recall that social gatherings fractured along pro- and anti-refugee lines, with some friendships and community events breaking down.
The outcome came amid a contentious climate. The leader of the pro-refugee camp, a municipal councillor at the time, faced threats and harassment, including vandalism at her home. Despite the controversy, the referendum reinforced Sjobo’s resistance to refugee resettlement, a position that foreshadowed later political developments.
Today, however, Sjobo’s official position has evolved. Local officials emphasize that the municipality meets its government obligations by accepting refugees and immigrants, in some cases surpassing regional averages. Charlotte Ramel, a current municipal councillor, describes the transformation as “enormous” and has worked to improve Sjobo’s image after years marked by division.
Nationally, Sweden’s attitudes toward immigration have undergone significant change, particularly since the 2015 migrant crisis when the country opened its doors to large numbers of asylum seekers. With a growing immigrant population—around 20 percent of Swedes were born abroad, according to 2025 data—integrating newcomers remains a challenge. Successive governments have introduced tighter immigration controls, culminating in a right-wing minority coalition formed in 2022 that negotiated unprecedented influence for the far-right Sweden Democrats in exchange for parliamentary support.
The Sweden Democrats, led by Jimmie Åkesson, who hails from the same region as Sjobo, have made reducing immigration their central political objective. The party advocates “re-migration,” encouraging or enforcing the return of immigrants to their countries of origin. Recent surveys indicate that approximately half of Swedes support reducing refugee numbers, though labour migration retains broader public approval.
Edmir Mehmeti, a 24-year-old candidate for the conservative Moderate Party and a native of Sjobo, reflects this complex dynamic. Originally from Kosovo, Mehmeti’s family faced local hostility in the late 1990s, including from Olsson and incidents of vandalism. Despite his background, Mehmeti supports a restrictive immigration policy aligned with current mainstream discourse. “Today in Sweden, to say that we need lower migration, and maybe we need to deport more people, that’s not controversial,” he said. “That’s quite honestly, quite good politics.”
As Sweden prepares for its general election, Sjobo stands as a symbolic touchstone in the country’s ongoing debates over immigration policy and national identity, reflecting wider shifts within Swedish society and politics.