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Jim McCrory

Some thoughts on a trip to Sweden

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 9 Oct 2024, 11:46


"If God exists, why is there so much evil?"

"If God doesn't exist, then why is their so much good? Good has no place in a aimless universe?"



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In 1995, the family and I were invited to visit friends in Sweden. We packed the old Ford Granada and crossed from Newcastle to Gothenburg on The Princess of Scandinavia.

Having read Wilhelm Moberg's The Emigrants, we were drawn to visit the Emigrant Museum in Växjö. In the mid-1800s, as famine ravaged Sweden, countless Swedes sought a new life in Minnesota. Växjö, nestled in Småland, bore the brunt of this exodus. The moment we entered the museum, the weight of sorrow was palpable. Each room seemed thick with unspoken grief; sepia-toned photos of gaunt, hollow-eyed figures gazed out like echoes of Holocaust victims, staring down an uncertain future.

It reminded me of childhood afternoons in Glasgow, when my friends and I would sneak away from school, hop the Govan Ferry across the Clyde, and lose ourselves in the Glasgow Art Galleries and Museum. One painting always captivated me—The Last of the Clan by Thomas Faed. It portrayed an old clan chief, astride a horse, flanked by a few family members, some trunks, and clay pots, all bound for North America, victims of the Highland Clearances. Sheep had become more valuable than people. These hardships—driven by greed, persecution, and despair—echo through history, from the Lollards in Germany to the Irish famine. And they live on in the songs we sing—Runrig's The Cutter, Shane McGowan's Fairytale of New York, and Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson's Kristina from Duvemåla.

After leaving the museum, we found a café and sat down to people-watch. I couldn’t shake the thoughts stirred by the exhibit. Does Sweden’s long history of emigration make the nation more compassionate toward today’s migrants? But then, the shadow of fascism reared its head. Reports of a cruel syndrome known only in Sweden—uppgivenhetssyndrom or Resignation Syndrome—plagued my mind. Migrant children, overwhelmed by stress, slip into a catatonic state, retreating from a world too harsh to bear. *Suffer the little children*, I thought bitterly.

When I rose to pay the bill, the waitress smiled. 

"Your bill is taken care of." 

"Sorry?" I asked, confused. 

"A friend paid it some time ago."

It dawned on me—perhaps it was the kind man who’d helped me park earlier and waved as he passed by the window. His small act of generosity touched me deeply, a reminder that while governments and extremists build walls, ordinary people still build bridges. We left the café feeling melancholic, returning to Målsryd to share one last meal with the Knudsens, wondering what insights tomorrow’s journey north will bring.


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Jim McCrory

Resignation Syndrome, I Don't Like That Phrase

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Monday, 2 Sept 2024, 11:58

"Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them! "


Ålmeshultasjön, Nässjö, Sverige kindly provided by https://unsplash.com/@magnusostberg



Some years ago, I read The Emigrants by Wilhelm Moberg and when I took a trip to Sweden, I visited the Emigrant Museum in Växjö. Blighted by famine in the mid-1800’s, many Swedes migrated to Minnesota. Växjö is in Småland, a region that faced the heaviest migration toll. 

Entering the building one is hit with an emotional cloud as the rooms reek with sadness: images of emaciated pensive creatures in sepia-tone like Holocaust victims facing an uncertain future.

As a child, my friends and I would skip school, take the Govan Ferry over the Clyde, and spend the day at the Glasgow Art Galleries and Museum. The Last of the Clan by Thomas Faed was a painting that always caught my eye; An old clan chief on a horse, a few kith ‘n’ kin, some trunks, and earthenware pots to start life in North America. They were victims of The Highland Clearances; a policy  where sheep were favoured over humans for economic gain.

Such challenging times are repeated throughout the world from the persecution of the Lollards in Germany to the famines in Ireland. Events that are memorialised in songs like Runrig’s The CutterShane McGowan’s Fairytale of New York and Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson’s musical, Kristina from Duvemåla.

When we left the museum, we found a café in town and sat for a while people-watching, and I thought about what I observed in the museum. I wondered if emigration in the national consciousness makes Sweden more egalitarian and kinder to migrants. 

With the threat of deportation, many little migrants are falling victim to a strange syndrome called uppgivenhetssyndrom (Resignation syndrome). A catatonic state peculiar to migrant children who slip away from everyday reality due to the stress caused by the anxiety of an uncertain future.

At the time of writing, families with children cross the channel in a desperate attempt to run from poverty, exploitation, war and all forms of human cruelty.

I believe the following verses offer a future hope for children, 

"Now people were bringing the little children to Jesus for Him to place His hands on them, and the disciples rebuked those who brought them.

But when Jesus saw this, He was indignant and told them, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them! For the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”  And He took the children in His arms, placed His hands on them, and blessed them."

Mark 10:13-15 (BSB).

 


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