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The Stockholm Conference 1972 drew the world's attention to the global environmental crisis. To the inhabitants of Sweden, however, this threat to the planet and to humanity was nothing new. Anyone who regularly read newspapers, listened to the radio, or watched the television news would have encountered the issues. Five years earlier, in the summer of 1967, things were very different. At that time, it was not at all self-evident that humans were in the process of destroying their own living environment. Hence, in a short period of time, a radical change took place: an 'environmental turn'. It had major and far-reaching consequences. But what was it that opened people's eyes to the environmental crisis? When did it happen? Who set the ball rolling? And what does this historical process mean for us today? David Larsson Heidenblad's book sheds new light on the emergence of modern environmentalism in Sweden and provides fresh insight to challenges that concerns us all.

It is well known that Sweden once had a state institute for racial biology, as well as that extensive racial research was conducted in Sweden during the first decades of the 20th century. But what actually happened to Swedish race research after the 1930s - did it just disappear?
In The science that disappeared? historian Martin Ericsson conducts the first systematic survey of Swedish race research from the mid-1930s to the early 1970s. It is a story of a racial science that survived the horrors of World War II and endured longer than we might like to believe as criticism grew in the post-war period. And about the Norwegian Institute for Racial Biology, which was never shut down, but lived on in a different form and under a different name.
Ericsson shows that there was not a single Swedish racial research tradition, but two. One was based on the first director of the Institute of Racial Biology, Herman Lundborg, and had clear connections to Nazism and other extreme right-wing movements. The second can be said to be based on Lundborg's successor Gunnar Dahlberg and was instead anti-Nazi and in some cases even anti-racist. But both traditions agreed that there were different human races and that it made sense to try to measure differences between them.
By following the Swedish race research until the end of the 20th century, the book also raises important questions about our own time and its interest in ""origin"" and ""descent"". How fundamentally different are today's dna analyzes from the old racial research traditions? What if we risk asking the same questions as 1930s racial biology stuck with new techniques?

In the book Anti-Racisms and Anti-Racists. Realistic utopias, tensions and everyday experiences, 24 researchers explore how resistance to various forms of racism is pursued and embodied among groups of people who dream beyond racism in a variety of ways, often contradictory, rarely successful, but always stubborn and forward-looking. The anthology illustrates the breadth of anti-racism, but also analyses its problems and weaknesses.
Inspired by anti-, post- and decolonial traditions, among others, together with social movement perspectives, the anthology challenges a static and essentialising approach found in research and policy that tends to emphasise the stability and immutability of inequality, even in the case of racism.
In addition to a variety of concrete analyses and descriptions of historical and contemporary activism, the various authors also show the possibilities of anti-racism and can thus provide some hope, in these dark times, for those who want a society without racism.
Academic co-ordinator is Mattias Gardell, Uppsala universitet.

"This study focuses on two Swedish politicians, Nils Flyg and Sven Olov Lindholm. During the interwar era, they were both leaders of various Swedish political parties; in the case of Flyg the Swedish Communist Party, and later on the Socialist Party; in the case of Lindholm the National Socialist Worker's Party (later renamed Swedish Socialist Unity). Both men were, in other words, influential politicians located at the outer edges of the ideological landscape.
During the span of their lifetimes, however, Flyg as well as Lindholm made remarkable ideological transitions. From the end of the thirties and onwards, the former communist leader Flyg successively embraced German Nazism. Lindholm on the other hand stepped down from his leadership after the war, and became a left-wing political activist who did not hesitate to identify himself as a communist. Superficially, this is strikingly symmetric: The communist leader becomes a Nazi, and the Nazi leader becomes a communist.
The aim of the study is to analyze the ideological links and tensions between Nazism and communism using these parallel biographies as a point of entrance. Inspired by political theorist Michael Freeden and his conceptual approach, and using a variety of sources, two core clusters of political concepts are identified and compared. It is shown that there are great similarities between Flyg and Lindholm when it comes to the role of anti-capitalism, anti-imperialism and the aspiration to idealize the Soviet Union or Germany as model states for workers. There are also, however, a number of differences, especially when it comes to views on modernity and materialism. In the final chapter, Flyg and Lindholm are compared to other European renegades. Here, the ambition is to identify common traits in the conversions. It is argued that the ideological antagonisms, the anti-positions, are crucial to this kind of generic renegadism."

It is well known that Sweden once had a state institute for racial biology, as well as that extensive racial research was conducted in Sweden during the first decades of the 20th century. But what actually happened to Swedish race research after the 1930s - did it just disappear? In The science that disappeared? historian Martin Ericsson conducts the first systematic survey of Swedish race research from the mid-1930s to the early 1970s. It is a story of a racial science that survived the horrors of World War II and endured longer than we might like to believe as criticism grew in the post-war period. And about the Norwegian Institute for Racial Biology, which was never shut down, but lived on in a different form and under a different name. Ericsson shows that there was not a single Swedish racial research tradition, but two. One was based on the first director of the Institute of Racial Biology, Herman Lundborg, and had clear connections to Nazism and other extreme right-wing movements. The second can be said to be based on Lundborg's successor Gunnar Dahlberg and was instead anti-Nazi and in some cases even anti-racist. But both traditions agreed that there were different human races and that it made sense to try to measure differences between them. By following the Swedish race research until the end of the 20th century, the book also raises important questions about our own time and its interest in ""origin"" and ""descent"". How fundamentally different are today's dna analyzes from the old racial research traditions? What if we risk asking the same questions as 1930s racial biology stuck with new techniques?

Military preparedness and war have so far been regarded as the domain of male authors in Swedish literature, especially at the time of the Second World War. But what happens if we turn our attention to the female authors of the 1940s? Kristin Järvstad's study shows how their texts as well focus to a large extent on subjects related to military preparedness and war. A variety of topics can be found in the novels by the female writers, ranging from stories about female air guards who protect the Swedish border to female pacifists who find it necessary to kill for the sake of peace. The soldier figure in these texts also takes a radical stand when he as a deserter lays down his arms to protest against the war. In addition, one of the most charged subjects of the time linked to gender is treated from a unique perspective: the women who consort with the occupying enemy are pictured without the condemning attitude that characterizes the period in general. The most urgent question, however, concerns alienation, linked to race: who is actually included in the Swedish nation? Here, the texts display a scathing critique of the narrow-minded Swedes and the anti-Semitism that flourishes at that time. By analysing female authors' depictions of the 1940s, During Military Preparedness and War deepens the previous picture of this period in Swedish literature. The writers explored in this investigation express a profound and often critical commitment to the issue of war and violence, linked to gender and alienation. The most radical literary message of the period can also be found among their novels: the demand for the dissolution of the militaristic and patriarchal nation which strives to expand its territory without regard for human life.