If Americans never understand what a social welfare system is, how it salves wounds of our gross economic inequality, why it is one of the most humane, advanced, amazing efforts we as humans can band together and work on, then this country will continue to go down the toilet.† Here is an exceptionally well-written, non-exceptional story, copied out of a tweetstorm by Alison Gerber — you’ll find that link to be dead, likely because Ms. Gerber’s thoughts attracted tons of attention, and in this toilet bowl internet era we live in, likely lots of death threats. Or worse: requests to do television interviews. Anyway:
So I’m an American living in Sweden, the socialist
nanny-state hellscape of the GOP’s fantasies. Here’s what
it’s like to live in a country with a high effective tax
rate and a commitment to spending for the common good: I
don’t worry that a minor accident, illness, or other bump
in the road will derail my family’s future or mean that we
lose everything. We have excellent health care and social
insurance, and the state steps up when we are in a crisis.
It’s not perfect, of course. There are emergency room wait
times and such, just like everywhere else. But, for
example: I broke the crap out of my foot a while back, in
a pretty awful accident involving a zipline. The local
hospital in Malmö took a couple of hours to get me through
intake, doctors, x-rays, and diagnosis. They sent me home
with a soft cast and instructions to come back for a hard
cast in two weeks or so. The next day two handsome
gentlemen showed up at my apartment. They were from the
city’s “hjälpmedel” office, which I hadn’t known existed.
They take responsibility for providing resources to people
with permanent or temporary disabilities. Their goal is to
provide the aids necessary “to independently, or with
help, meet basic personal needs and perform daily
activities.”. In my case, this meant that they installed a
seat in my shower and fitted me out with a wheelchair. The
wheelchair was brand new and they unwrapped a soft seat
and made sure the foot rests were adjusted to the correct
heights. Then they carried it back down a few flights of
stairs and parked it just inside the front door, ready to
go. They gave me a crazy grabber stick thing so I could
get things from the comfort of my sofa, and pimped the
crutches we’d gotten from the doctor with reflectors and
soft grips. All of this was free. They gave me their
numbers so I could call if I needed anything else. I
fooled myself into thinking that I was fine to work from
home for a couple of days before I realized that the
painkillers I was taking were not exactly helping me to do
my best work. I called the HR person at my job, and she
walked me through how to call out sick (after scolding me
for not calling earlier and for trying to work, which she
found ridiculous). I was unpaid for one mysterious
“karensdag”, then received the standard 80% of my salary
as long as I was out sick - plus a bump up to 90%, since i
was employed by the state. Probably if I’d been out for a
long time it would’ve involved some hassle, but for a few
weeks it was just that call and a form. I had get some
folks to cover my classes for me, which everyone treated
like a reasonable part of working life. You’re sick.
Obviously we’ll solve it. Later I got the hard cast, got
the cast removed, got more x rays, then started physical
therapy with an amazing PT that I chose from the many
options in town. Money was never a part of my decision
making. You do pay a small amount to see a doctor here, up
to about $50, but you only have to pay $130 per year for
such visits, and then you get a “free card” for the rest
of the year. There’s a similar system for medication.
There is, obviously, no discrimination against those with
free cards. I still see that physical therapist from time
to time. About a year after the accident the zipline
place’s insurance company sent me some money - about $1000
- intended to cover any costs I might have had : new shoes with better support, a couple of taxi rides, etc - this
because they had filled out a form when the accident
happened.
That’s enough of that. Let’s see. Oh! Yes, I had a kid
here. Obviously very intense prenatal, delivery, and
postnatal care was included in this medical system -
though a good deal of it is actually exempted from those
small $20-50 fees, so those visits are totally free. We
chose to have our kid at an extremely hippy dippy hospital
about an hour away from where we lived; it was the home of
Swedish Midwifery. The main differences were, as far as we
could tell, that a) it was not a big deal to get vegan
meals and b) the essential oils that they would drop into
the large whirlpool tub that was provided were
biodynamically produced. We stayed for a couple of days
after the birth, in a “family room” that was basically a
hotel room with constant excellent room service and
adjustable beds. An ultrasound had suggested our kid might
have something up with his kidneys, so he saw a doctor
earlier than most; on day 3 they took him for a lil’ scan.
Everything was fine. We stayed for “only” 3 days with the
cable TV and vegan food deliveries, then headed home. I
don’t remember anything at all about the costs of all
this, because there were none, basically. Mothers’ and
childrens’ health care is free. We did have to pay for gas
to get to that faraway hippy hospital, so that’s probably
like $40 round trip.
Well, what more should I say: what is it like living in a
country that uses its significant financial resources to
take care of its citizenry? Let’s keep talking about those
kids. The kid was born, and we didn’t plan well: neither
of us had a full-time job with a permanent contract at the
time, so we got the minimum allowable parental leave money
(as opposed to the 80% of our salaries if we had planned
better / if we organized our lives around money). What
that meant for us was, more or less, we split child care
50/50 that first year. One of us was always with the kid
while the other one was working. When you were “staying
home” with the kid, you were never really stuck at home:
there was a crazy world of free and nearly-free stuff to
do all the time with small kids, mostly run by the city
but also with city and state money through a variety of
organizations. Our favorite was the local “open
preschool”, a few blocks from our place, where parents
could bring their pre-preschool-aged kids to a giant very
well stocked playroom and hang out. There were rooms full
of toys and full-time professional pedagogically-trained
staff to play with the kids, but you didn’t drop them off:
you stayed, and depending on your personality maybe you
were down on the floor playing with the toddlers or maybe
you were just sitting over at the table drinking coffee
with some other parents. This was basically open all the
time and was free, and was a place to meet friends, make
friends, give your kid some time with other kids, give
yourself a break. Most of the parents there were pretty
chill.
You can’t put your kid in public child care till one year
of age, so it’s assumed that everyone will take at least a
year’s parental leave (divided between parents) and most
will take more. Anyway. We took hella advantage of the
open preschool, theatre and singing groups for babies,
everything there was. Then it was time to start preschool
when he turned one. It wasn’t perfect. We were assigned to
a preschool in the building next door to ours, and we
didn’t love it. We thought it was a bit too dark and that
they didn’t spend enough time outdoors, and we liked some
of the teachers a lot but weren’t in love with some
others. It was full-time care, with relatively flexible
hours, and cost us about $100 a month if I remember
correctly. When our son was a few months old I had to go
to Norway to work for a few months, and we decided to take
advantage of the break and request that he change
preschools. By this time we had a sense of the reputations
of all the preschools within walking distance of our place
(and yes, this was an incredibly frustrating process,
since officially all of the preschools are of exactly the
same quality and have exactly the same amenities and
procedures etc etc… navigating social democratic
bureaucracies is not all chocolate and roses, especially
for a foreigner) and had a list of a few we’d have been
happy to switch to.
When we came back after the Norway trip, our son started
at an amazing place with wonderful teachers and nice
bright rooms and they spent all the time playing outside
we could have hoped for and we loved it. And he loved it.
Again, we didn’t make much money, so it was less than $100
a month for full time care; if we’d been rich, the fees
would have topped out at about $150 a month. Of course, if
you have multiple kids, you pay less for each child you
have in full time preschool - the second kid costs about
$110 a month in my city if you’re well off, and the third
about $90 per month. You pay for max three kids even if
you have octuplets.
Oh! I forgot. When you have a kid you get a “child
allowance” in your bank account every month. At the moment
this is about $125 per month if you have one kid. Everyone
gets this, even the superrich. You get the allowance for
each kid, plus a “large family supplement” that increases
with each extra kid. Anyway, the child allowance basically
pays for child care and other stuff you need - afterschool
care, school supplies. Anyway. Let’s skip ahead a decade.
Kid is now 12 and firmly ensconced in middle school. He
goes to school a block from our house. If we wanted him to
go to another school, we could pick another school. We
have “free school choice”, which is not all positive
consequences for society, but it does mean.. that if our
kid’s school wasn’t working out for some reason we could
change to one of the other schools in the area - a variety
of municipal schools, nonprofit schools, and for-profit
schools. He goes to a nonprofit school, and we love them.
His first couple of years there we used their “free time
care” program, which provided before-, afterschool, and
vacation day programming. They were AMAZING. Some of the
most dedicated teachers I’ve ever met, doing the hard work
to build amazing lil’ citizens. They hung out, danced, had
tough conversations, crafted, developed interests and
hobbies, and were safe and cared for when we (parents who
worked long hours) couldn’t always be right there. One
summer two teachers decided to take our son, along with a
couple of other kids, to an amusement park in another city
about three hours away. We dropped him off at the train
station in the morning and picked him up late at night,
laughing hysterically and covered in candy floss. It’s one
of his best memories from the last few years. These
teachers were SAINTS, I tell you.
We make more money now than we did when he was born, so
those last couple of years we were paying the maximum fee
for all this before-school and after-school and vacation
day care (and oh there are many many vacation days here),
so we paid $107 per month. If we still made as little as
we did when he was born, we’d have been paying $24 per
month for the same care. Anyway.
He’s no longer using that program, being a big man and all
nowadays, but we use the bejesus out of city programming
for kids in other ways. Here’s an example: during the
summertime and the longer school breaks, the city
distributes money to nonprofits all over the city to
create free programming for kids. A big catalog comes out,
and you just do what you want. This last summer, among
other things, lil’ man went to a weeklong full-day camp on
the ocean where he learned to sail boats. TO SAIL BOATS.
BY HIMSELF.
Well, this is starting to get long. What else. Transit. In
the US we had a car, because we had to have a car. It was
expensive, and dangerous (compared to other modes of
travel), and not great for the environment, but we needed
it to commute to work and get to a decent grocery and just
generally to do much of anything. I am from the midwest,
and have both had a car and needed to have a car since I
was old enough to drive. You can get by without one, of
course, but it’s not easy, and in a lot of places not
really plausible. Here, we don’t have a car, and I haven’t
even gotten a license (my US one hasn’t worked here since
my one-year anniversity of living here. It’s ridiculous,
but that’s another story). Once every four or six months
we borrow a friend’s car to run an errand, or rent a car
for a few days while we’re on vacation. Otherwise it’s all
walking, biking, and excellent public transit. There are
bike lanes everywhere, no one ever screams at me or tries
to hit me with their car, and there are bike tools and
pumps in public for everyone to use. I commute to the next
city over for work, which commute involves: I bike less
than five minutes to the nearest train station (I could
also walk ~15 minutes), go down an escalator, and within
ten minutes or so I get on a train that takes me to the
next city in 12-20 minutes. From there it’s another five
minute walk to my office. I pay for my travel a month at a
time, which costs $105 per month. I think that this is
egregious, and that it should be further subsidized. But
such is life. The trains run on time and frequently
throughout the day. As do buses, both city and regional.
We complain when trains and buses are the least bit late
and act like it’s a travesty but to be honest I’ve never
encountered public transit this good anywhere in the US.
We think it’s expensive, but compared to pretty much
anywhere in the US that I’ve been it’s a steal -
especially considering that it can get you almost anywhere
you need to be, relatively quickly and easily. Almost
always more quickly than it would be to drive yourself.
I’ve taken public transit out to national parks in the
countryside and onto tiny island ferries into legit hobbit
wonderlands. It works.
Um, let’s see. What else. Ah yes, inequality. Obviously
Sweden’s better on this count, unless you enjoy watching
the poor suffer. Which I guess some people do. Income
inequality, poverty rate, you name it: Sweden’s a better
place to be for most of us. But what about the American
Dream, you ask? Don’t we want to give everyone the
opportunity to succeed? Well, chances for upward
intergenerational mobility are far better in Sweden than
in the US - so if you’re going to be poor, you probably
would want to be born poor here, both because your quality
of life will be better, your health outcomes will be
better, etc etc etc., but also because you are more likely
to be able to “get ahead in life” here than in the USA. If
that’s your jam.
Crime? Well, I’m careful when I’m out alone at night in
the US, and I don’t think about it here, though I live in
what those with no knowledge of the situation on the
ground think of as Sweden’s “murder city”, Malmö. Murder
rate per 100,000 in Sweden: 1.1. In the US: 4.9. Generally
speaking, yeah, I will probably get my bike stolen
someday, but I’m very unlikely to be killed by a stray
bullet (much less one that’s aimed at me). I could go on
and on. What I meant to say is this: that ridiculous tax
bill is headed back to the Senate this morning and most
likely to the president’s desk. I haven’t seen much in the
way of in-depth, well-reported explainers on what we stand
to lose as a nation: what the near-inevitable cuts to
public services and infrastructure are going to mean,
while my feeds are dripping with straightforward “ways to
make the new tax bill work for you,” & a cynical guide to
“hacking the tax plan” that promises to help you learn
“ways to profit off the Republican tax bill.” There’s no
texture to that conversation, no sense of what it means on
the ground.
We made more money on paper in the US than we do in
Sweden, and we paid far less in taxes. We were also more
stressed for money than we’ve ever been in Sweden,
including back in the days when we lived well below what
the Swedes call the “existence minimum”, and one little
problem - a nonserious but lengthy illness, a lost job, a
car breakdown, a day care closure - was always out there,
dangling above our heads, threatening to send everything
into a chaos we might have never recovered from. We chose
to move back to Sweden. We now are lucky to have two
reasonably OK paying middle-classish jobs; we also pay
high taxes. We make less on paper, and we net less each
month - far less. We basically don’t have a ton of
disposable income each month after the bills are paid. But
that’s the thing: we had some “disposable” income back in
the US… that we used to pay for life’s necessities…
for ourselves. We weren’t lifting everyone else’s boat, we
were furiously paddling our own little raft, and while we
weren’t exactly stomping the fingers of desperate swimmers
that clutched at our planks we also weren’t pulling them
on board… not really, anyway. Sure, we used some of that
disposable income to “do the right thing”. We gave to
charities and nonprofits & shopped at the coops & bought
organic. But really, it was all we could do to keep our
own heads above water.
Now, with two middle class salaries, we have to consider
costs when we go to eat, go out for a beer. For an
American it can be hard. We have to save up for major
purchases, sometimes for quite some time. We don’t have
much disposable income. And we basically don’t think about
it…. ever. Because we’re not desperately fighting to
stay afloat, and the people around us aren’t, either. It’s
hard to explain what it feels like when that stress is
lifted from a community, from a city. But you can feel it.
And it’s true that stress hasn’t been lifted from
everyone. There are people living in poverty here,
migrants living without access to the system. And not
everything about these systems works perfectly, or as it
should, or as we’d want it to. But I wanted to put this
out there so that some of you could get a sense of what
it’s like, on the ground, to stop worrying about your tax
bill and to start thinking in terms of the country that we
can build together. I peek at the AM papers in the US: the
tax bill is still being carried forward. The rich will get
far richer, and you might get to keep a little more of
your income, for a while. But don’t forget what you’re
giving up, and take a moment to consider whether it’s
worth it.
So the bill passed, of course. I thought about coming back
to my earlier rant-thread when I got home from work (I
have so much more to say! I didn’t even get into, say, the
fact that my son’s preschool teachers made reasonable
salaries! Or that we welcome more refugees per capita than
anywhere else in Europe! I didn’t get all that much into
the weeds about Sweden’s integration issues vs America’s
structural racism!) but I’m just feeling… defeated. Most
Americans opposed the tax bill, and it didn’t matter.
Let’s hope the backlash is a strong one.
Sweden, Norway, Denmark. What amazing places to live. Thousands of years from now, they’ll be remembered as the pinacle of our democratic age.
† This is my “going down the toilet” justification footnote. Consider these: universal healthcare. Universal childcare. Basic services for all. Obligate maternity and paternity leave. All areas where the United States is so far behind it can’t hope to ever catch up unless citizens agree on the necessity of these things. And they don’t. Hence my toilet bowl comment.
