The complex topic of criticism in Sweden

In the endless corridors of my Swedish workplace, I sensed an atmosphere that was characterized, on the one hand, by a palpable pride and unshakeable self-confidence and, on the other, by an underlying tension that permeated the rooms like a fine mist. With my Swedish colleagues, the topic of open exchange was always present, at least on the shiny stage of the numerous meetings. There, under the bright spotlights of the company's internal spotlight, it was proclaimed with almost ritual regularity how open and progressive they were when expressing opinions. This self-perception culminated in the conviction of being part of a (Nordic) society that saw itself as morally superior.

This conviction stemmed from my colleagues' self-assurance regarding "good" things. Their discussions about sustainability, diversity, and social responsibility were not just topics of conversation; they were expressions of a deep-rooted conviction. In their eyes, Sweden was an ideal, a beacon of modern civilization. But the more I thought about it, the more this attitude seemed to me to be complacency. It seemed as if they were in a bubble of moral superiority, detached from the reality of those who didn't meet their high standards - or had different ones. Their discussions increasingly felt like sound in their echo chamber, where dissenting opinions or critical perspectives had no place. I observed This kind of self-righteousness in my colleagues, which made me doubt whether their beliefs were based on a deep understanding of the issues or were more about positively seeing themselves.

The moral certainty was reinforced by how the company presented itself to the outside world. There was a strong emphasis on corporate values, which were carefully crafted and communicated. These values were guiding principles for the business and the company's local and global social commitment. The constant emphasis on these values in meetings, company presentations, and internal communications created a culture where the company and its employees saw themselves leading the way to a better, fairer world.

My Swedish colleagues' perception of themselves led to a certain blindness towards their faults and weaknesses. Any criticism that did not fit into their narrative of moral superiority was often ignored or dismissed. It seemed as if the conviction of being morally superior prevented them from dealing with the natural and often complex challenges that every large company and society faces.

I realized that this culture of moral superiority was a characteristic of some of my Swedish colleagues and a reflection of the entire society in which they lived and worked. It was a society that was proud of its achievements but, at the same time, in danger of losing itself in its complacency.

In particular, projects outside the daily work schedule pose significant problems for many Swedish colleagues. It seemed haphazard, and no one seemed to care. I was responsible for essential certifications and communicated regularly with my boss, Mats. As long as my reports brought positive news to Gothenburg, I received prompt responses. They responded almost effusively to my positive reports with "great," "wonderful," and "much appreciated." But as soon as problems arose, the dialog fell silent.

Strangely enough, I received no response from Mats to my reports of problems - not to the first or second email. I quickly learned that less positive messages or more in-depth problems were not welcome in this company. For a while, I convinced myself that Mats had not received my message. But I was soon proven wrong when one of his deputies briefly mentioned the problems I had reported - but only mentioned them. So they had already received it in Gothenburg. But I didn't have to wait for solutions from the Swedish management.

This experience accompanied me throughout my time with my Swedish colleagues. If we "newcomers from abroad" voiced criticism, especially in larger meetings, managers and those in charge often reacted irritably, even though the criticism was meant constructively. The reaction was more understanding on a smaller scale, but there was usually no real help in solving problems. I was rudely thwarted several times during these meetings when I shared why specific processes were not running well or could run better.

One formative experience was the story of Lars, one of my younger employees, who was not from Sweden. On a family outing, he came across a part of our company that was in a terrible state - dirty, neglected, with visible maintenance problems, apparently neglected for years. Deeply affected by this sight, he wrote an email to one of the managing directors of the old, original, and purchased part of the company. He initially found an open ear there.

Unfortunately, his message caught up in an internal power struggle between the managing director and Kalle. The email was forwarded to numerous addresses in Gothenburg; the managing director knew he could put his finger in the Swedes' wound, which he exploited immediately and without consideration for Lars. Lars, who was not a diplomat, wrote directly and bluntly. I saw the email before it was sent and thought it would be okay to send it like that - a big mistake, as it turned out. I already knew a bit about the "Swedish soul" at that point, but I was busy with other things and wasn't paying enough attention.

Within a few hours of sending the email, I received calls from Sweden. Different colleagues were all outraged by Lars' message. They called it a "monstrosity" and a "no-go" and were vocal about removing Lars from the company. Their reactions were violent and emotionally charged, almost like Lars had broken an unwritten law. They were deeply offended. It was as if they felt personally attacked, not only because of the criticism but also because of how it was expressed. By email and almost publicly, not informally and off the record, it could be kept in a small circle and covered up if necessary. In his email, Lars had merely named the apparent shortcomings in the company to rectify them.

I was openly forced to apologize. I had never experienced anything like it before! Without my apology, the consequences for Lars would have been uncertain, and something would have "stuck" to me, too. The conversation with Milva was tough, as she felt personally offended because this part of the company (at least in some areas) fell under her area of responsibility. I tried to explain to her that Lars hadn't meant any offense. I remembered the countless sayings of my Swedish colleagues about how open we were and that we should talk about everything - but (and this always remained unspoken) only in the Swedish context, which only allowed mild criticism (within a small, manageable framework).

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