Public services would cease functioning without migrant workers
In the long arc of nations wrestling with belonging and exclusion, Sweden has taken a consequential turn — passing two laws that grant authorities sweeping power to revoke residency on undefined grounds and enlist public workers as instruments of immigration enforcement. Voted through in Stockholm on a Monday in June 2026, the legislation reflects the growing influence of far-right politics on a country once regarded as a model of humanitarian openness. Rights groups warn that vague standards and surveillance infrastructure do not merely target the undocumented — they erode the foundational trust between citizens, institutions, and the state itself.
- Sweden's parliament passed two immigration laws by the slimmest of margins, one allowing residency revocation on loosely defined 'bad behaviour' and another requiring most public sector workers to report suspected undocumented migrants to police.
- Rights organizations warn the laws are dangerously vague — no clear definition of 'bad behaviour' exists, meaning residents face permanent uncertainty over which actions or expressions could cost them their legal status, including conduct that was lawful when it occurred.
- The reporting law creates a surveillance web inside public institutions: tax offices, employment agencies, and social insurance bodies must alert police, and exemptions for teachers and doctors offer false comfort when information flows freely between agencies.
- Undocumented migrants are expected to avoid hospitals, schools, and social services altogether, deepening their vulnerability — while legal residents and migrant workers who sustain public services face a climate of suspicion and fear.
- The legislation mirrors Britain's discredited 'hostile environment' policies, which harmed legal residents and were found to provide no value for money — and arrives as Sweden's centre-right government courts far-right support ahead of September elections.
Sweden's parliament voted late Monday to pass two laws that will fundamentally reshape the country's relationship with immigrants and undocumented residents. The first, a 'good behaviour' law, allows authorities to revoke residency permits — for pending applicants and established residents alike — based on criteria so loosely defined that critics call them arbitrary. The second, which passed by just two votes, requires most public sector workers to report anyone they suspect of lacking legal status to police.
Migration minister Johan Forssell framed the good behaviour law simply: those who don't do the right thing shouldn't expect to stay. But the law never defines what 'the right thing' means. The government has offered examples — unpaid debts, tax evasion, links to extremist groups — but these are illustrative, not definitive. Crucially, the law applies retroactively, meaning residents could lose their status for conduct that was entirely lawful when they performed it.
Amnesty International condemned the law as incompatible with the rule of law, warning it could see permits revoked for behaviour that would carry no consequence for Swedish citizens. Civil Rights Defenders echoed the concern, noting that residents are left guessing which actions or expressions might be used against them.
The reporting requirement creates an infrastructure of surveillance inside public institutions. While teachers, doctors, and social workers were exempted after fierce pushback, the exemption is largely illusory — a mother who gives birth with an exempt midwife must still register her child with tax authorities, who are not exempt. Researchers who interviewed public servants warned that ordinary government employees are effectively being turned into border enforcement officers.
Experts predict the practical outcome will be that undocumented migrants stop accessing hospitals, schools, and social services entirely, pushing them deeper into invisibility and harm. The laws arrive as Sweden's centre-right government, reliant on far-right Sweden Democrat support, approaches September elections. The closest historical parallel — Britain's 'hostile environment' policies under Theresa May — proved both costly and counterproductive, ultimately misclassifying legal residents as immigration offenders and failing to deliver value for money. Sweden appears poised to learn that lesson the hard way.
Sweden's parliament voted late Monday to pass two pieces of legislation that will fundamentally reshape how the country treats immigrants and undocumented residents. The first, a so-called "good behaviour" law, grants authorities the power to revoke residency permits—both for people whose applications are pending and for those already living in the country—based on criteria so loosely defined that critics say they amount to arbitrary judgment. The second, which passed by the narrowest of margins with 174 votes to 172, requires most public sector workers to report anyone they suspect of lacking legal residency status to police.
The government's framing of the good behaviour law is deceptively simple. "Anyone who doesn't make the effort to do the right thing shouldn't be able to count on staying," Johan Forssell, Sweden's migration minister, said when he introduced the bill in March. But the law itself never specifies what "the right thing" means. The government has gestured toward examples—unpaid debts, tax evasion, criminal activity, links to extremist groups—but these remain illustrative rather than definitive. The Swedish migration agency will review permits case by case, with decisions subject to appeal, but the vagueness of the standard means residents face permanent uncertainty about what actions or statements might trigger revocation.
Amnesty International and other rights organizations have condemned the law as fundamentally at odds with the rule of law. "This would lead to the risk of residence permits being denied or revoked based on behaviour that was neither illegal nor punishable for Swedish citizens," Amnesty noted. Civil Rights Defenders, a Stockholm-based group, warned that the legislation "undermines the rule of law" and leaves people "in uncertainty about what actions or expressions can be used against them." The retroactive application—meaning it will apply to people already holding permits—compounds the concern that residents could lose their legal status based on conduct that was lawful when they performed it.
The reporting law, which squeaked through parliament, creates an infrastructure of surveillance within public institutions. Tax authorities, employment agencies, and social insurance offices will now be required to notify police when their employees suspect contact with undocumented migrants. Teachers, doctors, and social workers were exempted after widespread pushback, but the exemption is largely illusory. A mother delivering a child with a midwife—who is exempt—must still register the baby with tax authorities, who are not exempt and can report the family. Information flows between agencies, researchers warned after interviewing public servants, effectively turning ordinary government employees into border enforcement officers.
Jacob Lind, a postdoctoral researcher in international migration at Malmö University, called the reporting requirement "a cruel, ineffective policy" that "opens up the Pandora's box of snitching—a trademark of authoritarian states." Louise Bonneau of the Platform for International Cooperation on Undocumented Migrants described it as a "serious setback for human rights," noting that the healthcare and education exemptions offer false comfort when information will inevitably flow between service providers and immigration authorities. The practical effect, she and others predict, is that undocumented migrants will avoid hospitals, schools, and social services altogether, pushing them further into invisibility and vulnerability.
The legislation arrives as Sweden's centre-right government, which depends on the support of the far-right Sweden Democrats to maintain its parliamentary majority, races toward elections in September. The Sweden Democrats have explicitly stated their goal: to create one of Europe's most hostile environments for non-Europeans. These laws represent a significant step in that direction. The reporting requirement has few equivalents elsewhere in Europe, though Finland has considered similar measures and Germany's social welfare offices have grappled with reporting obligations for two decades. The closest parallel is Britain's "hostile environment" policies, introduced under Theresa May in 2012, which restricted access to work, benefits, bank accounts, and driving licenses for those unable to prove legal residency. That experiment proved costly and counterproductive: many legally resident people could not document their status, the Home Office frequently misclassified legal residents as immigration offenders, and the National Audit Office concluded in 2018 that the policies did not provide value for money.
Jan Willem Goudriaan of the European Public Services Union warned that the new law would fuel "suspicion, fear and racism" while threatening fundamental asylum rights. He also noted a practical irony: "Public services would cease functioning without migrant workers in Sweden and many EU member states." The laws now in place will make it harder for those workers to access the very services they help provide, while creating a climate where reporting becomes normalized and suspicion becomes the default mode of interaction between citizens and the state.
Notable Quotes
This would lead to the risk of residence permits being denied or revoked based on behaviour that was neither illegal nor punishable for Swedish citizens— Amnesty International
A cruel, ineffective policy that opens up the Pandora's box of snitching—a trademark of authoritarian states— Jacob Lind, postdoctoral researcher in international migration at Malmö University
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What makes this "good behaviour" standard so dangerous if there's an appeals process?
Because the standard itself is undefined. You could lose your home and your legal status based on something that wasn't a crime when you did it. The appeals process doesn't fix that—it just means you have to fight to prove your behaviour was acceptable, when the criteria for acceptability were never written down.
Why would public workers actually report people? Don't they have professional ethics?
They do, but now they have legal obligations that override those ethics. A social worker might want to help an undocumented family, but if they're required by law to report them, the choice is taken away. And the law creates a system where information flows between agencies anyway—so even if one person stays silent, another won't.
The exemptions for teachers and doctors sound like a compromise.
They're window dressing. A child born to undocumented parents still needs to be registered with tax authorities. A teenager needs to enroll in school, which requires documentation. The exemptions don't protect people; they just create the illusion of protection while the system closes in from other angles.
Is this actually going to work? Will it reduce undocumented migration?
The UK tried this exact approach and it failed. It didn't reduce migration—it just made legal residents unable to access healthcare and work, and it cost taxpayers money. What it did do was create fear and push vulnerable people away from the services they need. Sweden is about to learn the same lesson.
Why are the far-right so influential in Swedish politics right now?
The Sweden Democrats hold the balance of power in parliament. The centre-right government needs their support to govern, so they keep moving further right to keep them happy. It's a dynamic where the most extreme voices set the agenda, and everyone else follows or gets outmaneuvered.
What happens to undocumented migrants now?
They become more invisible. They avoid hospitals when they're sick, avoid schools for their children, avoid any contact with the state. The laws don't deport them—they just make their lives smaller and more precarious, and they make the rest of society complicit in their exclusion.