The Silence of the Valkyries
“I’m still asking questions, I’m still perplexed by the complexity of Burma. What impresses me is the will and patience of the people in mobilizing for a common good, trying to create something better out of the chaos.”
These words from Olle Thorell, a seasoned Member of Parliament for Sweden’s Social Democratic Party, offer a window into his almost two-decade-long journey working with Burmese activists. From his unique vantage point on the Foreign Affairs Committee, Thorell, now in his fifth and final parliamentary term, has become an important figure in Sweden’s long-standing engagement with Myanmar. His story is not merely one of political duty; it is a deeply personal narrative, a microcosm of Sweden’s historical allyship with the oppressed, set against the backdrop of contemporary challenges facing international solidarity in an increasingly fragmented world.
His story did not begin in the hushed corridors of power, but in a small, close-knit industrial town in Sweden—a place he affectionately described as the “rust belt.” Here, community ties were strong, deeply rooted in the labor movement and the principles of social democratic governance. This upbringing instilled in him an understanding of collective effort and mutual support.
However, it was a childhood decision that irrevocably shaped his worldview. At just 12 years old, Thorell faced a choice: remain in his familiar hometown or embark on an adventure to South Africa with his newly divorced father. Opting for the latter, he spent three formative years, from 1979 to 1981, immersed in a society grappling with the stark realities of apartheid. Though he lived a relatively privileged life, residing in, as he says, a “big house with a pool” and attending the private Pretoria Boys High School, the insidious nature of racial segregation seeped into his consciousness. “I learned about racism, and what a society can become if you let prejudice and division of people [govern], what kind of society you get from that,” he recounts. Upon his return to Sweden as a teenager, this exposure to injustice fueled his passion to enter the anti-racist movement, cementing the bedrock of his lifelong commitment to human rights.
Thorell's early career as a teacher honed his diplomatic sensibilities. His grounding in community fostered a deep understanding of human connection, which became particularly relevant during the 1990s, a period when he taught Swedish to refugees and immigrants from the war-torn Balkans. “I found myself with a classroom full of Serbs and Croats and Albanians and Bosnians, all together in the same classroom while the fighting was going on in their countries,” Thorell recalls. This experience provided an unfiltered education in “what happens when a country falls apart, when there is a division among neighbors and friends,” he recalls. These daily interactions, steeped in the realities of human conflict, displacement, and resilience, influenced his approach to international affairs long before he formally stepped into the national political arena.
While initially engaged in local politics, Thorell's journey shifted upon his election to the National Parliament, or Riksdag, in October 2006, representing Västmanland County. He found himself placed on the Foreign Affairs Committee, a role he embraced with enthusiasm. His initial four years in Parliament, with the Social Democrats in opposition, saw him entrusted with the critical responsibility for Asian affairs. This period coincided with dramatic changes unfolding in Myanmar—a time that would deepen his engagement with the country.
Thorell immersed himself in learning about Myanmar's complex political landscape, and he learned extensively from advocacy groups in Sweden. His commitment extended beyond borders, leading him to travel to Thailand, where he met with activists in Mae Sot and Chiang Mai, gathering firsthand accounts and creating connections. His personal bond with the struggle was cemented in 2011, when he was among the first European politicians who met Aung San Suu Kyi just months after her release from prison. This clandestine meeting, held in her villa with utmost secrecy to avoid jeopardizing her fragile freedom, was, for Thorell, a promising interaction. Thorell notes that this encounter occured before “her halo fell, and her international reputation was damaged.” At that moment, Aung San Suu Kyi stood as an important figure for democracy and change in Myanmar.
Between 2015 and 2020, during Myanmar's period of perceived openness and democratic development, Thorell looks back with a bittersweet nostalgia. He acknowledges the immense difficulties that persisted but emphasizes the palpable hope that permeated the air. During one visit, he witnessed a real transformation taking place across the country. “I could travel to Burma, and I could meet with people,” he recalls. “I traveled the country meeting activists, and saw people printing newspapers by hand like we [in Sweden] did in the 1920s or 30s, and everywhere in the street. We could see the difference in plurality of expression [more than before], and it was quite inspiring.”
For Thorell, hailing from a country with “a very old, mature democracy where we take a lot of democratic development for granted, such as freedom of expression and free media, as if it is a given,” this burgeoning civic engagement in Myanmar was profoundly moving. He found inspiration in the sight of “all these poor people who you would expect to be busy finding food for the day, but instead engaging themselves in printing newspapers, spreading the word of democracy to others.”
Yet, this inspiring image was juxtaposed with a reminder of the hardships that continued to plague the nation. On the same trip, driven by the Social Democrats' foundational connection to trade unions, he visited a textile workers' union in Yangon. What he encountered in the industrial zone was deeply disturbing: “It was really tough to see how the children were working there - 7, 8, 10 year old kids working, you could see even younger kids playing in the puddles.” These puddles, tragically, were “colored by the chemical dye from the factories, with 3, 4 year old kids playing” in their toxic depths. He also witnesses parents bravely striving to organize, protest, and to adapt better working conditions, along with a living wage. Unsettled by these realities, they further cemented his belief that allyship with Myanmar is essential in the international sphere.
Delving into the historical roots of Sweden’s involvement with Myanmar, Thorell articulates the underlying principle that has long guided the Swedish Social Democratic Party: international solidarity. “We are as far from a nationalist party as you can be,” he states proudly, and goes on to invoke the towering figure of Olof Palme, the assassinated Swedish Prime Minister and party leader as the embodiment of this ethos. Palme, he explains, was a critical figure in global geopolitical history, a man who famously “criticized the US for Vietnam as harshly as he criticized the Soviet Union for the Afghanistan war, and the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.” Thorell describes Palme’s moral compass as unyielding, regardless of geopolitical alignments. As a young man, Palme had traveled through Asia, including Burma, and chronicled the inter-ethnic conflicts he found there, particularly in the context of colonization and then independence. His observation about the naivety of colonial powers attempting to govern lands they did not truly comprehend resonates deeply with Thorell until this day.
Considering Sweden’s integral allyship with Myanmar, a fascinating question arises: the unique role of Nordic countries in championing human rights and democracy on the global stage. “We’ve reached a level of welfare and wealth in our societies that we can afford ourselves the luxury of caring about more than ourselves,” Thorell explains. He also speaks to their identity as “small countries, not superpowers, dependent on other countries for economy, trade, and a workforce coming here.” Sweden's long history of welcoming immigration from across Europe, he notes, cemented a tradition of open borders and a deep-seated understanding that “we are a corner of the world that needs other people, we’re curious of other cultures, and understand that we are all dependent on each other in this world.”
During the Cold War, Sweden consciously carved out a “middle way,” steadfastly refusing to align with either extreme communism or unbridled capitalism. This independent stance allowed them to create strong relationships with newly independent nations, unburdened by colonial baggage. Myanmar, in this historical context, became an example of a place where Sweden genuinely believed it could do good.
However, Thorell voices an unsettling concern about a recent shift in the global paradigm: A growing trend where nations are increasingly prioritizing narrow self-interest over aid and development. While traditionally, Sweden and other like-minded countries sought out “places where the conflicts were the most complicated, where problems were the greatest, where poverty was the worst,” Thorell sees a growing tendency to instead engage only where there's a direct national benefit— such as trade or security. This regrettable turn, he believes, inevitably leads nations to stay away from the most difficult conflicts and countries—a category that Myanmar certainly falls under.
“Burma and Sweden have no connection really, logically, as it is such an isolated country and there are not many Myanmar people in Sweden,” he notes. Yet, through the efforts of civil society, particularly Svenska Burmakommittén or Swedish Burma Committee, and the focus of successive Swedish political governments, a bond has been developed over the years. For him, Myanmar has tragically become “the last bastion of military rule where we feel we need to help out,” a remnant of the authoritarian regimes that Sweden had actively opposed in places like Argentina, Chile, Portugal, and Greece.
This paradigm shift is also characterized by a fundamental challenge to multilateralism and a heightened focus on national borders. These borders, he stressed, are no longer just lines on a map, but increasingly “borders within minds of people, where you tend to see the interest of your own people in your own country, and feel that if someone else gains something, you will lose something.”
The rise of what he terms as “nationalistic populism” troubles him. In the face of this tide, Thorell is thankful that the Swedish Social Democrats have stayed true to their values. For them, solidarity is not merely a gesture of charity or compassion. “It’s a matter of being. We’re all dependent on each other, and we are a global family,” he says. However, this vision is now under siege. Populist narratives, fueled by “myths about development aid and prejudice about foreigners and anti-Islamic sentiment, have spread like wildfire through society,” Thorell admits.
He expresses a concern about the changed media landscape since he entered Parliament in 2006. The age of 10-second sound bites, TikTok dances, GIFs, and memes has supplanted nuanced discussion. “Algorithms are rigged to benefit strong emotions like anger and hate and fear and prejudice,” creating echo chambers where people “gather today with the ones who agree with you.” This fragmentation, he warns, makes for a “politically dangerous scenario where populists can grow limitlessly.” Not mincing words, he believes “the democratic part of the world, the liberal forces of the world need to unite and regulate us somehow so we can have a shift, because I’m worried for the future democracy.”
Despite these concerns, Thorell remained an optimist. He believed in the pendulum movement of history, asserting that extremes eventually swing back towards a more balanced normalcy. While uncertain if the post-WWII liberal world order was an exception, he strongly desires a future where the UN Charter is viable and human rights are respected, “where countries and people should be able to decide for themselves through democratic elections their future.”
Paradoxically, the same communication revolution that fuels populism also holds immense potential for innovation. For him, it has also made national borders less important at the same time in some areas, by enabling people to inform themselves of what’s going on in the world. He highlights its transformative power for the Myanmar opposition, allowing them to “stay in touch with each other, even though scattered all around the world, enabling the National Unity Government [to] organize itself and reach out to people.” Considering this, he believes “liberal values and values of democracy and human rights are impossible to quench in the long run.” Thorell further expresses hope that “the democracies and liberal forces of the world will see the danger now that’s going on and mobilize.”
“We who are born in wealthier countries have an obligation to help,” he reiterates. “We should be where it’s most difficult to get things to grow, because we have the possibility to make it grow there. We shouldn’t just go to the easy places!” His vision for Sweden's future role, especially in light of the perceived retreat of the US and UK from global leadership, should be one of renewed engagement: “there is a vacuum where Sweden could make themselves present and mobilize other countries in being responsible.”
“Myanmar deserves better,” he says in closing. These words extend directly to his vision for Sweden’s sustainable commitment to Myanmar, by challenging the military junta and supporting a new federal democratic state that respects the diversity of Myanmar.