Frank Deaver Peace Editorials

     “You Americans!” my Swedish friend exclaimed.  “You call yourselves a melting pot; but you’re not.  You’re a stew pot.”  He went on to elaborate that ingredients melted together become as one, but in a stew the ingredients are stirred together, sharing their flavor but retaining their identity.

     Rotarian Sten Lagerman was not being critical; he was elaborating on a conversation in which we were comparing the age and homogeneity of our two societies.  But friends—true friends—from other societies sometimes help us see ourselves through their eyes.

     This was only the first of many inter-cultural comparisons experienced by the Group Study Team for which I served as Rotary leader.

     Rotarian Georg Nirell said, “Your country is still in its childhood.  Why, this house you’re in and most of the houses around here are more than 200 years old.”

     Rotarian Roland Kjellander accompanied us to one of the oldest churches in Sweden, a very small edifice dating from the 12th century.  As the elderly vicar showed us around the church of Trönö, he apologized for its age and condition.  “But you should see our new church,” he said.  “It was built in 1874.”

     But it was Rotarian Bo Janson who elaborated most on the comparison.  “All Americans,” he said, “with the possible exception of native Indians, are immigrants.  You arrived from many different countries.  And most of you have such a mixture of ancestry that you don’t know who or what you are.”

     Then he made the contrast.  “But a Swede is a Swede is a Swede—and has been for more than a thousand years.”

     In the rush of GSE activities, all these conversations were isolated within their individual contexts.  But later, in reflection on the total Swedish experience, they began to come together as a significant observation: There really is a distinct difference in the homogeneity of our two societies.  Swedes appear to perceive themselves and each other in a mutual trust that American society seems to have lost, or perhaps in our heterogeneity never had.  It’s difficult to define it in specific words.  After some time, however, the difference became apparent in a number of observations.

     In Hudiksvall, we met the town council, and a handout (in English) defined each member.  Later, I commented to a Rotary host that although labor unionism is strong in Sweden, no one on the council was from labor.  “But they were elected to represent the general public,” my host replied.  “And because that is what they are charged to do, we are confident they will represent us well, whatever their own interests.”

     Stopping at a public restroom, we were encouraged to leave our camera bags on a bench outside.  Noting our hesitation, one Rotarian put down his own expensive camera as he assured us everything would be safe.  No one stayed with our things, but they remained undisturbed.

     In visiting a high school, we observed that students had no lockers, but along the walls in hallways were squares identified by different color floor tiles.  Students stacked their belongings neatly within designated squares, and no one bothered things that were not theirs.

     In another school, we visited the library, and found books published in the early 1800s on open shelves for student use.  We noted that they were handled carefully, and were not defaced or otherwise abused.

     Indeed, it eventually dawned on us that we had seen no graffiti in Sweden.  On mentioning that to a Rotary host, I was assured that Swedes consider themselves joint owners of public property, “and we would not abuse our own possessions,” he said.  (Exceptions to these examples are increasingly found in tourist areas, resulting, we were assured, by the influx of non-Swedes.)

     These and many other examples gradually led us to understand what Bo Janson had said: A Swede is a Swede is a Swede.  And what Sten Lagerman had said: America is seen by Swedes as a stew pot.

     Perhaps it’s their long and, until recently, largely unmixed ethnicity.  Perhaps it’s their relative isolation on a peninsula dangling from the Arctic, separate from the mainland of Europe.  Perhaps it’s their minority language, spoken by fewer than ten million people.  Perhaps it’s their traditional neutrality, keeping them from involvement in international conflicts.

     Whatever the reason—or combination of reasons—our GSE team began to appreciate those characteristics that make a Swede a Swede.  Similarly, it made us reflect on the diversity of our own American society—the “stew pot,” as Sten described it.   Although our two societies are in many ways different, they are also in many ways alike.  And as we learn from each other, we are each the richer.

     Differences do not undermine friendship; rather they enhance friendship.  Rotarian Per Nilsson Öst, one of Sweden’s noted artists, does wood sculptures.  In our presence, he carved the bust of a Swedish farmer.  As a final touch, he carved upturned corners of the mouth, then presented the carving to us.  “Look,” Per said, “he’s smiling.  That’s because he knows he will always be among friends.”

     The little wooden man came home with us.  He’s now part of the American stew pot.