Syrians Still Finding Their Way in Sweden, Five Years on

Five years later, Syrians are still trying to integrate, some more successfully than others. AFP
Five years later, Syrians are still trying to integrate, some more successfully than others. AFP
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Syrians Still Finding Their Way in Sweden, Five Years on

Five years later, Syrians are still trying to integrate, some more successfully than others. AFP
Five years later, Syrians are still trying to integrate, some more successfully than others. AFP

They arrived in unprecedented numbers, pushing a strained Sweden to shut its borders as anti-immigration sentiment flared. Five years later, Syrians are still trying to integrate, some more successfully than others.

Abdallah Saleh, a 24-year-old Palestinian who fled Damascus in 2014, finally arrived in the southern Swedish town of Malmo in September the following year after a harrowing journey.

Ten months later, he got his first job as a cashier.

Saleh spent three years learning Swedish and English, taking adult education classes and working on the side.

Now, he's just been accepted into a computer science program at Halmstad University.

"It's been my dream since high school," he tells AFP, beaming.

In 2015, the Scandinavian country took in the highest number of asylum seekers per capita in the European Union, at 163,000. A third of them were Syrians.

"Every day the line of asylum seekers was never-ending. At the end of the day, they were knocking on the window, saying 'please, help us'," recalls a former case handler at the Migration Agency.

Experts say it's too early to tell how well Syrians as a group have integrated, citing a lack of data.

But they say the early signs are pretty positive.

Pieter Bevelander, a professor of international migration at Malmo University, points to 2016 statistics: "Of the Syrians who received a residency permit in 2010, 70 percent now have a job."

"We can expect a similar result for those who arrived in 2015," he suggests.

This is especially the case since Syrians' education level is about the same as Swedes', noted Stockholm University professor Eleonora Mussino.

- Tougher rules -

Sweden was however quickly overwhelmed with the huge influx of migrants knocking at its door.

It ended up adopting a temporary law in 2016 making permanent residency and family reunifications harder to get, offering three-year residency permits instead.

The law expires in 2021, but the hot-button issue is now up for debate again in parliament, which will likely replace it with a permanent law.

Sweden -- a country of 10.3 million people, of whom 12 percent were born outside the EU -- has welcomed large numbers of immigrants since the 1990s, primarily from the former Yugoslavia, Somalia, Iran and Iraq.

But over the years, public opinion on immigration has hardened.

According to AFP, the anti-immigration Sweden Democrats party has in two decades grown to become the third-biggest party, hovering around 20 percent in opinion polls.

"It's an analytical mistake to think that the Swedish attitude to immigration was generous before 2015 and that it changed after the migrant wave," Joakim Ruist, an immigration expert at Gothenburg University, says.

"This tolerance has in reality always been fragile: everybody knew that a large part of the population didn't want refugees in the country," he adds.

- Influx slowed -

Jonas Andersson, a Sweden Democrats MP, tells AFP "the temporary law was necessary but it was just a small step in the right direction."

"Sweden needs to tighten its legislation," he insists.

Since the temporary law came into force, the number of Syrian arrivals has plummeted, to just 5,500 in 2016 and even fewer in the following years.

The same trend can be seen in the number of asylum requests granted.

Hala Alnahas knows that all too well.

With a dentistry degree from Damascus University, she now practices in the small Swedish town of Mariestad.

She has only been granted successive temporary residency permits, despite a shortage of dentists in Sweden.

Her request for permanent residency was recently denied because of a single document missing from her dossier.

"It was a shock, because I pay my taxes, I earn a decent living, I have my own apartment and I don't need anybody's help," she says.

- Hurdles to integration -

Other Syrians say they feel like they're living life on the sidelines.

Unemployed since arriving in Sweden, Ali Haj Mohammad, 45, is struggling to get to know Swedes.

"I get the impression they don't want to talk to refugees. My Swedish isn't very good, but how can I improve it with no job and when I spend my free time with other Syrians or Iraqis?", he complains.

According to Teodora Abda, the head of Sweden's Syrian Association, Syrians' integration "has failed" because of a lack of housing and their limited social contact with Swedes.

"Those who arrived five years ago chose to live with members of their own families," often in immigrant-heavy suburbs, "rather than find themselves alone in northern Sweden" where authorities might have placed them, she explains.

Disadvantaged neighborhoods with strong immigrant populations are rife with social woes and unemployment -- leading to social exclusion, parallel economies and, increasingly, gang shootings.

Sweden -- traditionally homogeneous and now with a high-skilled labor market -- can be challenging for people arriving from war-torn countries, especially those with no skills.

For 38-year-old Majda Ibrahim and her family, who came to Sweden in 2013 just before the big migrant wave, the road to a new life has been arduous, but worth it.

"In the beginning, it was really hard, our life was turned upside down," she says at the family's three-room apartment in Skogas, a Stockholm suburb, home to many immigrants.

Her husband works as a cleaner and their five children are enrolled at school.

After numerous hotel stays, social-services meetings and a slew of black-market sublets, they finally have a place to call home.

"It's the first time in seven years that we have a real apartment lease," says her 16-year-old daughter Alia Daoud in perfect Swedish.

"Now we all have Swedish citizenship," smiles Majda.



Lebanese Face Grueling Journeys Home After War Leaves them Stranded Abroad

Travelers track flight changes during Iran-Israel war (Reuters)
Travelers track flight changes during Iran-Israel war (Reuters)
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Lebanese Face Grueling Journeys Home After War Leaves them Stranded Abroad

Travelers track flight changes during Iran-Israel war (Reuters)
Travelers track flight changes during Iran-Israel war (Reuters)

Hundreds of Lebanese citizens stranded abroad during the recent Iran-Israel war hope the declared ceasefire will soon allow them to return home, after spending days or even weeks trapped in airports or foreign cities where they had planned only brief stays.

Others managed to make arduous and costly journeys back to Lebanon, using complex combinations of land, air, and sea travel.

Since the outbreak of the conflict, many Lebanese, especially students and religious pilgrims on summer break, faced major obstacles returning home. International airlines repeatedly canceled or altered flights, and some airports closed, forcing stranded travelers to remain abroad, sometimes overnight in airport terminals.

Nisreen Fatouni, 28, one of those caught outside Lebanon, described her ordeal to Asharq Al-Awsat: “We were heading to Congo’s airport three hours before our Ethiopian Airlines flight to Lebanon on Saturday, June 14, only to be told the flight was canceled because the airline feared flying over Lebanese airspace.”

Fatouni said she then booked another uncertain flight for Sunday, June 16, but it was canceled three times in a row. “To this day, I don’t know if I will be able to return anytime soon. I hope the ceasefire announcement will ease air travel restrictions,” she said.

Currently staying at her sister-in-law’s home, Fatouni fled two months ago with her two young daughters to escape Israeli strikes targeting multiple areas in Lebanon. Fate intervened when war erupted just one day before her scheduled return flight to her hometown of Deir Qanoun Ras Al-Ain in southern Lebanon.

Fatouni expressed deep fears about Lebanon’s security situation. “I feel both helpless and scared. There is no sense of safety in Lebanon. But how long can I keep running?” she said. “I want to go back to my home where I left my husband and extended family... my daughters miss their father too.”

Fatouni, like many Lebanese stranded abroad during the Iran-Israel conflict, now faces a difficult decision: wait for Ethiopian Airlines to resume flights to Lebanon or travel at her own expense to Egypt or Türkiye and then make her way to Beirut.

“I don’t want to risk spending another night in an airport as a woman alone with two children,” she said.

“An emergency could still prevent flights from taking off from Egypt or Türkiye. I hope our return is not delayed further. I’ve booked a new flight, hoping nothing else will change.”

Fatouni is far from alone. Scores of Lebanese across African countries monitor developments anxiously, frustrated by continuous flight cancellations and delays, desperate not to abandon plans to spend the summer in Beirut despite the turmoil at home.

The ceasefire declared Tuesday morning has sparked cautious optimism among many hoping to return soon.

The situation is similar for Lebanese tourists stranded in Europe. Mohammad Dawood recounted his experience: “I flew from Germany, where I live, to Antalya in Türkiye
intending to return to Lebanon. But because of the war, I ended up spending three nights moving between the hotel and airport.”

“My booking was canceled multiple times, and travel dates changed repeatedly. On the fourth day, I decided to return to Germany. I didn’t want to keep trying; it felt hopeless. There just aren’t enough flights for all of us,” he said.

Dawood added that around 70 Lebanese in Antalya chose to return to Europe rather than risk staying amid uncertain conditions and rising costs. “We didn’t want to take chances, especially with things looking bleak.”

While Dawood had a home to return to in Germany, many others remained stuck abroad, lacking the financial means to extend their stays. Videos circulating on social media show travelers sleeping on airport floors, awaiting a chance to book flights.

A Grueling Journey via Iraq and Iran

Conditions are worse for Lebanese stranded in Iraq and Iran, where options dwindle by the day. Iran’s airspace closures have left Lebanese students, religious scholars, businesspeople, and pilgrims trapped in cities including Mashhad, Isfahan, and Qom.

Mustafa, a relative of three stranded students, told Asharq Al-Awsat the young men had to take a costly taxi ride from Mashhad to Qom, then cross into Iraq by land, before flying from Basra airport back to Beirut.

“They were exploited because of their age, paying nearly $800 for the taxi and a similar amount to cross into Iraq. They endured long and exhausting journeys,” Mustafa said.

“We urge authorities to organize evacuations, at least for students living in dire conditions. There are rumors of a black market selling tickets at exorbitant prices.”

Khodr, another Lebanese pilgrim stuck in Iraq, told Asharq Al-Awsat he spent five days in the country before managing to return to Lebanon last Tuesday.

“I was in Najaf on a religious visit and traveled to Basra by taxi, where I secured seats for students I know on the same flight,” he said. “I was lucky, but many others are in a terrible state.”

About 1,120 Lebanese have been repatriated from Iraq via Iraqi Airways, according to official figures.

Khodr described the flight back as unusually long - about four hours compared to the typical hour-and-a-half - due to the altered route.

In the worst-case scenario, Khodr had planned to travel overland from Iraq to Türkiye, then take a ferry from Mersin port to Tripoli, northern Lebanon.

Others have completed similar journeys, with one boat leaving last Wednesday and arriving in Tripoli the following day, the Lebanese Ministry of Public Works and Transport confirmed.