Chapter 12

12. Bergen

 

During the autumn semester, I was going to teach a couple of courses in economics, as a lecturer. At the same time, I was looking to do something else, but preferably stay in Sweden. One day I saw an announcement on the department's bulletin board, looking for an economist at the Christian Michelsen Institute (CMI) for Oil Economics in Bergen. The salary was two times higher compared to the lecturer position and Bergen was a beautiful city that I had visited several years earlier. I applied right away and a month later I was offered the position that would start in January 1987. I accepted the position immediately and we agreed that I would go there later in November to meet them and be informed of all the necessary things.

No to post-doc in the US

At the same time as I accepted the position in Bergen, Bengt-Christer asked if I was interested in a post-doc position either at Harvard, or Stanford. It was Dale Jørgensen, a professor at Harvard, who was the opponent of Jonas Agell's doctoral thesis in May, who asked if I was interested in a position there. Jonas had already accepted one of the two offered positions. It would be a couple of years in the US for research. But after my trip to the US, I had decided to "never again in the US", and I answered bluntly, without thinking, "no, but thank you for the offer".

He was a bit shocked and asked why and if I had any better options. Then I replied that I did not want to leave the Nordic countries for the United States, even though it was a flattering offer and I preferred Bergen, where I had just been given a position there.  He laughed out loud and wondered if I had gone crazy. How could I turn down the well-known universities in the United States and move to rainy Bergen? He also said that it was a bit embarrassing to turn down an American professor's offer and that we don't get such generous post-docs from there.

I didn't want to tell him why I preferred the rain of Bergen to the arrogance of the United States. The conversation led nowhere and I think Bengt-Christer never understood my decision. I don't know what he said to Dale Jørgensen. A few years later, he fell ill and died, and I wonder what Jørgensen thought when a Greek bullied a post-doc in the United States to move to Bergen.

Incidentally, when it comes to the generosity of the Americans towards new Swedish doctors, I have always been very skeptical about. Many prominent American economists love to come to Sweden to make more contacts with all the Swedish professors who sit on the Nobel Committee and thus increase the likelihood that they themselves will receive the Nobel Prize. Many who had received the Nobel Prize had been to Sweden before, as visiting professors. I do not know if the purpose of Dale Jørgensen's frequent visits to Sweden was to increase the chances of receiving the Nobel Prize. At the same time, he was one of the best economists at then and many tipped him as a strong candidate for the prize, which he did not get.

At the end of November, I went to Bergen to meet with the management at CMI. They received me with joy and they planned what I would do, where I would live and all the other practical things. I had a Swedish, but temporary residence permit and it was also valid for Norway. The weather in Bergen was gray and rainy, which they pointed out in case I didn't know. We agreed on the salary and that I would start after the Christmas holidays in January. It was a permanent employment that was to be renewed automatically after a trial period of six months.

After a day there, I went back to Uppsala to plan my move to Bergen. I left the apartment and moved my furniture to my girlfriend's sister's basement. I also left my Saab with them because it would be difficult to go by car to Bergen in Winter. At that time, you had to drive up to the mountains and down to the valley because the long tunnel that exists today was not built. My girlfriend was about to finish her studies in Uppsala and she stayed. We celebrated Christmas together with her parents in Dalarna. By the way, her father had just won SEK 1.8 million on Lotto, but my girlfriend hardly got any money. She continued to work part-time to complete her studies. I felt a little sorry for her and I appreciated my poor father even more for what he did for me.

The move and life in Bergen

At the beginning of January, I took the flight from Arlanda to Bergen, via Oslo. When I left Arlanda early in the morning it was -12 degrees and when we arrived in Oslo it was -16. But when we landed in Bergen, just before lunch, it was +1, with thick clouds, some fog and drizzle and it felt significantly colder. I took a taxi to CMI where they were waiting for me. They showed me around, my office, introduced my colleagues and offered some light lunch that they served at CMI's cafeteria. Then we went to the bank to fix an account and to the villa where I was going to live.

It was a two-floor house on a hill, close to Haukeland Hospital. The villa was owned by a CMI director who had moved to Canada to work in an oil institute for a couple of years. It was very large, furnished and quite old. According to an agreement CMI had with the owner, I was to pay a low rent, and of course take care of the house. Then they showed me the bus stop and we went to a grocery store to buy some food. In the evening, they left me and we were supposed to meet the next day at CMI. I first ate some dinner and then watched TV. There were only two Norwegian channels and after an hour or so I went to bed. The bedroom was upstairs and when I went to sleep, I noticed that the fog was so low and dense. The street and outdoor lighting on the villas nearby was barely visible.

The next day I took the bus to CMI. It was much darker than it was in Uppsala at 8 o'clock in the morning, partly because it was cloudy and rainy, partly because Bergen is about 1000 kilometers west of Uppsala and we have the same time zone. The roads in Bergen are narrow and crooked and the bus drove quite slowly.

I got off near CMI and then I walked the long uphill towards the headquarters. Outside my room were three scientists, an Italian, a Frenchman, and an Israeli, whom I had not met before. They introduced themselves and after a while they asked me if lunch is served at workplaces in Sweden! I was really surprised by their question and replied: "of course". The Israeli then turned to everyone else and said, " You see, that's what you do in civilized countries!" Immediately after, they asked me to accompany them to the HR manager to inform him that we do have lunch at the workplaces in Sweden.

We went up to him, whom I had met the day before, and then the Italian said that I should tell him about the lunch in Sweden. The personnel manager, who had received the same complaint several times before, turned to him and said in a loud voice: "I repeat what I have said before. We're not going to have lunch and siesta in Norway, period. Here you eat a small light lunch, such as sandwiches and yogurt, which is available in the cafeteria. You'll be fine until you have an early dinner after work." They shook their heads and were sad, of course. We left and one of them wondered how I could leave the civilized Sweden and move to Bergen.

I didn't think lunch was that important and it went well with sandwiches and yogurt that the cafeteria served, but after a couple of weeks I got tired of the one-sided lunch. In conversations with people at CMI, I learned that Bergen, unlike Oslo, adhered to traditions and did not serve lunch, neither at workplaces nor at restaurants out in the city. The restaurants, on the other hand, started with dinner at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, until 9 in the evening! I experienced it once when I went to a restaurant near my residence after 8 in the evening. The dishes were almost sold out and they were supposed to close at 9.30. All Bergen residents were home that late, or no one would order dinner that late.

A few weeks later, I noticed that many people brought sandwiches or other packed lunches from home, especially when we had lunch seminars a couple of times a week. I remember one day during a lunch seminar, a senior Statoil manager came to present us with a new project. He took out his sandwich package from his Helly Hansen rain jacket and started eating while he presented the project. On the other side of the table sat the Israeli and the Frenchman who chuckled and shook their heads when they saw this scene. Afterwards, the Frenchman came to my room and asked how it felt when a high-ranking Statoil manager did that. Of course, he believed that such things only happen in Norway and never in France.

In my position, my colleagues and I would analyze and evaluate various strategic oil projects, for the Norwegian Petroleum Directorate, or oil companies like Hydro and Statoil. The head of the research unit was a Swedish mathematics professor from Linköping University of Technology, who had left Sweden a few years earlier. The head of the unit was a Dane. In addition to economists, there were also optimizers and programmers, and most of them were Norwegians and doctors. Depending on the project and participation, we switched between Norwegian and English. When I wrote in Swedish, with my Norwegian keyboard, it felt a bit strange, but the friendly secretary corrected all Swedish words into Norwegian.

Life in Bergen continued in the same dull way. Take the bus to CMI, work until four or five, buy food from groceries and return home to make a dinner. Sometimes I went out in the rain or snow. It was a little brighter in the afternoons there compared to Sweden, but late in the evening there were hardly any people outside. One Saturday in February, I took the Fløibanen funicular to get some impressions of the fantastic view of Bergen. Unfortunately, visibility was poor then, almost everything was covered by the fog. I waited until April to experience this wonderful view. But I was fascinated by the fish market where customers bought live salmon swimming in a pool and the fishmonger caught for them.

Meeting the Greeks

Another cold and humid Saturday, I went to a cafeteria in the city center to drink a coffee and, of course, to warm up. When I went to sit down, I heard laughter and loud noises in Greek. Be funny, Greeks in Bergen, I thought. I asked them in Greek if they lived there. They were surprised that there was another Greek there. Then I sat with them and we started talking.

One of them, Vasilis, had lived there for a long time, was a programmer, married to a Norwegian and had a child. The other two, Takis and Irini, were dentists, and made a certain specialty in pediatric dentistry, which it was considered among the best in Europe at the time. I thought it was nice to hang out with other compatriots there. Takis and Irini also thought it was good that I knew Swedish to maybe help them if needed, even though the Bergen dialect has a very harsh sound. Since that day we became good friends and hung out almost every day. I found out that there was another Greek girl who was married to a Norwegian and lived just outside Bergen who they also hung out with. There were also a few more Greeks on the west coast, in Stavanger, Haugesund and Trondheim.

The snow-white ski suit

It was still winter and you could buy nice winter jackets on sale. Takis told me that his sister in Athens wanted a snow-white ski overall. He asked me if I had time on Saturday to accompany him to the stores and help him with the purchase. And I had plenty of time. First, we went to a big store in town without finding snow-white overalls. There were plenty of overalls in wonderful colors instead. We moved on to the next store, which was a little smaller. Same thing there. Elegant overalls but no snow-white. I then told Takis that it must be difficult with a snow-white overall, as it is not visible on the slopes or in avalanches and may not be made in snow-white.

While we were looking, a salesman came and asked us if he could help. I explained to him what Takis' sister wanted. He immediately replied that they did not have white and that it was difficult to find in Norway due to visibility aspects and wondered why she wanted snow-white. I turned to Takis and asked him in Greek why his sister wanted a snow- white. Takis then told us a long story, while the salesman stared at us. After a couple of minutes, I turned to the salesman and said that she wasn't really going to ski, she just wanted to wear it this winter in Athens. The salesman shook his head and we left.

The story that Takis talked about his sister was actually interesting. Back then, in Athens' most elegant and luxurious Kolonaki Square, the wealthy young people used to park their expensive cars with ski equipment on the roof, while they themselves sat in cafes dressed in their beautiful overalls, as if heading to the ski mountains outside Athens. They could sit there for hours, especially on weekends, without going to the ski resorts at all. Some could barely ski. They simply wanted to impress everyone else in the square. And while all the other friends of his sister wore overalls in different colors, no one had snow-white! It was just as well that I didn't tell the whole truth to the salesperson! He would think that not only was his sister really spoiled, but we were also crazy as we walked around in the raining Bergen looking for a snow-white overall to be worn in a cafeteria in Athens.

Life in Svalbard

Takis and Irini worked in the same department with Åse, a dental nurse. All three also socialized privately. When Åse had her birthday, she invited a few people to her home, but also me, since I had met her a few weeks earlier. She lived quite close to the Fløibanen funicular with a nice view of the sea. 

It was a nice event at Åse's home, with Norwegian food, dancing, and funny stories. In the evening, Åse told us that last summer she had gone on holiday in Svalbard and what she experienced there was outstanding. Before she went there, she had to fill out a few forms, preferably she would have a firearms license, maybe bring extra canned goods and crispbread, inform the authorities where and for how long she would be staying, and so on.

Since neither Takis nor Irini understood Norwegian, Åse spoke English. When Irini asked why you should have a gun license, Åse replied to rent a rifle in case you met a bear while walking around alone. She pointed out that in Svalbard, it is the bears that are free, while people walk on fenced streets and roads instead. When Takis asked her why you should have canned goods and crispbread with you, Åse replied that you can get lost in the snow and it was just as well to have some extra food, and maybe even feed the bears! Svalbard is quite restrictive against mass tourism and people who go there must accept certain restrictions, said Åse. And then she ended by saying "people over there live like that ".

Takis looked at her intently and said that "live" was a wrong verb to use. Åse protested, she turned to me and said in Norwegian "I mean live, not leave", so that I would translate in Greek to Takis, in case he thought she used the verb "leave". I translated it to Takis and he just smiled. He turned to her again and said a little ironically: "I understand, but you should use survive instead, not live". Åse turned a little sad, but Takis continued, with everything Åse told us about Svalbard, it was a question of survival and not of life. And if Åse wants to see what life is like, she can come with him to Athens to experience it!

Åse got very angry with him and it was the first time I heard an angry woman swear in Norwegian. Takis apologized, but he still thought he was right, something that Åse reluctantly accepted. She then insisted that he and many Greeks should go to Svalbard instead if they wanted to understand and learn from nature and not trying to find a snow-white overall to wear it in a cafeteria in Athens! Then she showed some beautiful pictures from Svalbard and the atmosphere became much nicer.

Easter in Bergen

In the beginning of April, I flew to Uppsala to pick up my car. I changed to summer tires and drove back to Bergen during Easter week and my girlfriend came along. It was a fantastic journey. We spent the night northwest of Oslo and the next day we drove to Bergen. At Eide fjord we took a ferry across the other side of Hardagen fjord. It was a magnificent and nasty nature with thundering waterfalls from very high cliffs quite close to the narrow and crooked roads we drove. It was cold but sunny and when we found some small parking spaces, we stopped to admire the rugged nature and take some pictures.

When we got home, I called Takis and Irini to meet the next day. Unfortunately, everything was closed that day, because it was Maundy Thursday. Norwegians usually go skiing during Easter week and the big holiday starts on Maundy Thursday. We bought some food at a Hydro gas station and had dinner with us.

On Good Friday we went up to the mountains to hike on the ice. After an hour or so we finally found a small cafeteria for a coffee break. Early in the afternoon, the weather changed quickly and it started snowing. We got a little worried and we decided to go down to Bergen before the roads got covered in the snow and the visibility became too poor. I had just switched to summer tires and was not a good idea.

We celebrated Easter at our house and Vasili's family also joined us. It was alternate break and rain, but not so cold and we even had time to grill some meat and sausages out in the yard, before it started to rain again.

The weather continued to be rainy and it became brighter and warmer. I remember when Prime Minister Gro Harlem Brundtland was to give her May Day speech in Bergen, it was delayed by three hours because of the dense fog. Since the plane couldn't land, it returned to Stavanger and she took the helicopter instead! The Flesland airport in Bergen is located next to the fjord with some mountains nearby and it can be quite difficult to land. Gro began her speech by apologizing for the delay and it was wrong to be optimistic about Bergen's weather.

Lawn

At the beginning of May, I went with some colleagues to a three-day conference in Karlstad. At the same time, I asked for a two-day vacation and took the opportunity to meet my girlfriend in Uppsala.

A week later, I took the last flight from Arlanda, via Oslo, to Bergen. I had left the car to Takis who came to the airport to pick me up. It was scary when we landed because it was very foggy with light rain. I drove Takis home first and then I continued towards the villa.

When I arrived, it was dark, but I noticed that the lawn had grown a lot. Half of the villa was covered in the fog. Just as I was about to open the door, I saw two wet papers hanging. I came in and read what was written. It was the neighbor who wondered why I didn't mow the lawn. I didn't care and went to bed.

The next day I drove to CMI. On my desk was a small note saying that I had to contact the secretary. I went to her and she told me that the neighbor had complained because the lawn had grown. I thought it was ridiculous but I promised that I would cut it after work. Honestly, before I went to Sweden there was hardly any grass to cut. But because of the light and humidity, the grass grew significantly in a week!

When I drove home, I saw the neighbor mowing his own lawn in the rain. Even though I tried to hide behind the bushes, he noticed my car and came with firm steps towards me. He was quite angry and wondered why I ignored his notes. I explained that I was abroad and I will do so as soon as the rain stops. Then he got very angry and yelled at me: "If you wait for the rain to stop in Bergen, the grass will come up to the roof! I also got annoyed and asked him why he cared about another villa's lawn. He replied that the homeowner had told him to check that the villa was taken care of and since they were going to celebrate the National day on May 17 in a week or so, everything had to be neat and tidy!

I went inside, put on the owner's Helly Hansen rain jacket, and went outside to mow the lawn. It didn't work, it was so wet and everything got stuck in the lawn mower. In addition, I slipped because the lawn was on a sloping level. After a few attempts, I gave up and went back into the house. He knocked on the door again and said that I had to continue, otherwise it would get even worse. But I was tired and angry and replied that I will talk to CMI tomorrow and not be able to take any more of his complaints.

The next day I told the secretary that it was not possible and that I wanted to move to another residence. She was kind and arranged a small tractor lawn machine and they mowed the lawn. But in the future, I would make sure not to let the grass grow, or wait for the rain to stop! And there I learned to mow the lawn despite the eternal rain!

May 17th

May 17, 1987 was on a Sunday. Already on Saturday, the weather turned to high pressure. Suddenly you could see the blue sky, the magnificent greenery, and the beautiful flowers all around. All the villas had hoisted the Norwegian flag and everything was so festive. My colleagues at CMI warned me not to go with my Swedish Saab to town on May 17. On the one hand, it would be impossible to find parking and on the other hand, there was a risk that a Swedish-registered car could be vandalized on this day. So, I took the bus instead and met Takis and Irini near the square.

In the city, several thousand people had probably gathered to celebrate the National day. School and high school students as well as university students were to participate in a parade. Everyone had their own little flag that was waved with joy and everyone was so happy and proud. I have never seen so many Norwegian flags in the same place. The dark blue sky, the brown-green water, and the colorful houses at Bryggen, the fine villas up by the flute that looked like they had grown between the trees and the Norwegian colors made for an incredibly beautiful interior. All photographers must wait for such sunny days to photograph Bergen, I thought.

If I remember correctly, it hadn't been sunny for a whole day since January. We had had a few hours of sunshine for a few days, of course, but often combined with fog or drizzle. Irini thought it was so sad that the wonderful beauty of the city is hidden by fog and low pressure. And we all agreed that the weather in Bergen must have had a major impact on both Henri Ibsen's writing and Edward Grieg's musical works.

On Monday, the rain started again. A nice and quite funny colleague from Oslo came to my room and asked me what I thought of May 17 and about the weather. I said that everything was wonderful of course. And then he replied "the weather gods were with us yesterday, but now Bergen has used up the quota of sunshine-hours this year and from today the rain will return. I wondered if he was joking, but he was referring to the local newspaper "Bergens Tidende" where you could see the whole weather statistics on a whole page.

I went to the conference room and checked the newspaper. I was quite depressed by what I read. Over the past five years, the number of rainy days was 260, compared to this year's 256. This year's precipitation was 2325 mm compared to the average for the last five years which was 2340 mm. In other words it will have to rain even more to reach the five-year average!

If I remember correctly, there were a few sunny days in May but the rain continued until mid-June and after a short break for a couple of weeks, the rainy season came back with some short breaks until mid-August.          

Some rain stories

There are plenty of funny stories about the rain in Bergen. I will only choose two that clearly illustrate what the rain means in Bergen.

The old actor Kirk Douglas once went on holiday to Bergen, many years after he starred in the classic film "The Heroes of Telemark". He waited a few hours in the hotel reception for the rain to stop and go out into town. But since the rain continued all the time, he walked up to the young receptionist. He told him that 25 years ago they were going to film some sunny scenes in Bergen and waited in vain for the rain to stop. And after a few days of hollow rain, they were forced to move to the United States and film these scenes in a studio. When he finished the story, he asked the guy "Does it always rain in Bergen?” And then the guy replied: "I wasn't born 25 years ago!"

Another shorter story is about the Norwegian school students when they had a geography test. On one of the questions, they would find the error on Norway's map, where the sun only shone over Bergen while it rained over the rest of the country. Only school children from Bergen were 100% right!  I like this story and every time the Swedish TV shows the weather map of the Nordic countries, my eyes get stuck over Bergen where a permanent rain cloud must have been programmed!

Last weeks in Bergen

At the beginning of July, it was not only rainy, but also around 10 degrees. Vasilis with his family, Takis and Irini, had gone on holiday to Greece. I could not go there because of the military service issues. Of course, it felt very sad and hopeless. What to do in such a city in the middle of summer when it rains?

On weekends, I often went to town and visited different museums and art galleries, or just walked around with my umbrella to meet some people and feel like I was alive. The funniest thing was when I went to the Grieg Hall and listened to Sissel Kyrkjebö, the young star from Bergen, who sang some beautiful songs.

Out on the quay there were often some American warships, and there I met some brave tourists with rain gear and umbrellas who walked up the Flöjbanan, or waited to take the Hurtigruten to the North Calotte. Vasilis had recommended Hurtigruten, but I didn't dare to pay for an expensive trip as there was an obvious risk of rain and fog and also miss the midnight sun.

According to the contract, if I do not resign by mid-June, I must continue with my position. But I couldn't take it anymore with 10 degrees and the eternal rain in the middle of summer. So, one day, I decided to quit at any time and communicated my decision to the manager. 

Of course, he tried to persuade me and since he was soon going on vacation, he asked me to be patient and we could discuss it again in early August. I couldn't wait and I wanted to stop in August, before the autumn rains would start.

He thought it was very sad because they were very happy with my work and finally, they had learned my long family name. He asked if it was about a higher salary and promised that he would raise it after the summer. I just said that I felt bad, mainly because of the rain and because of the lack of lunch at CMI, even though Bergen is the most beautiful city I've seen in my life. He replied that they had warned me about the rain, but I didn't care then, which is true. "But I expected rain two or three days a week, and not every day, for months" I told him.

Furthermore, I said that I would move back to Uppsala for the autumn semester, even though I did not have a permanent position there and the hourly wage at the university was significantly worse. In addition, my girlfriend expected me to move there. Since she was a mathematician, he promised to offer her a position at CMI as well. I knew she didn't want to because she had to put up with so much rain when she was here during Easter. He didn't manage to persuade me and we agreed that I would leave CMI in mid-August, after his vacation.

Ironically, the day I moved was the warmest and sunniest day I've experienced on the West Coast! It felt a bit melancholy when I packed my belongings in the car. On the other hand, it was so incredibly beautiful when I drove along the scary road at Hardagenvida. I spent the night in Geilo and the next day I returned to Uppsala.

Chapter 11

11. Dissertation and conferment ceremony

At the beginning of 1986 I was elected chairman of the Economics Association in Uppsala. I didn't really want to be chairman, but I was forced by my student friends. I didn't have much time for the chairmanship then because at the end of May 1986 I was going to defend my thesis.

The thesis was basically finished, but it needed a language review. And Barbara helped! I remember the argument between Barbara and my new supervisor Bengt-Christer Ysander about correct English. Bengt-Christer did not like Barbara's American formulations and insisted that I stick to correct English. Barbara was naturally annoyed when a Swedish professor, whose mother tongue was not English, corrected her. She protested and told him that she had excellent school grades in English. Sometimes I felt powerless and tried to compromise. Going against the supervisor's way of expressing himself, was not good, even if I agreed with Barbara for the most part.

While I was cleaning up the dissertation, I also took some driving lessons. I wanted to get a driver's license and give myself a used car as a gift. I started with the lessons early in the spring. I passed the driving test and a month later I bought my first car, a used SAAB 99, a four-years old model.

Chernobyl nuclear accident

At the end of April, a few days before I was about to nail down my doctoral thesis at university information desk, a serious nuclear accident occurred in Chernobyl. On Sunday, April 27, a radioactive cloud passed over Sweden and the radioactivity was detected on Monday morning by measuring equipment at Forsmark's nuclear power plant. I remember that it rained a little that day when I went to HMC. About half an hour after I got into my room, all the sirens suddenly sounded over Uppsala and all the front doors at HMC were closed. No one was to leave the building and we were encouraged to listen to Radio Uppland for more information. Of course, all lectures were cancelled and everyone was really scared.

The radio that broadcast news all the time informed that Forsmark had detected an elevated level of radioactivity and even though they had gone through all the radiation tracking systems several times, all reactors of Forsmark's were working as they should. After an hour or so, the Swedish Meteorology Institute announced that the winds had come from the southeast for the last day or so. Then Forsmark concluded that something must have happened in the Soviet Union. They contacted the Soviet authorities, who denied everything at first. But a couple of days later, they were forced to talk about the accident but not about the accurate disaster. Presumably, they waited with the recognition so as not to disturb the celebration of May Day in the USSR.

Barbara told me that her mother called from the United States later in the day because she was very worried. She saw the headlines in some evening newspapers reporting that hundreds of people had fallen ill with radiation and sought emergency care at Uppsala University Hospital! She wondered if it was true, if we had found a shelter to sleep, if there were food and water there, if we had been given iodine tablets, etc. Barbara assured her that so far nothing serious had happened in Sweden.

Even my parents called me because they had just bought a plane ticket to get to my dissertation, and wondered if it would be as planned and if it would be dangerous for them to come to Uppsala at all. Forsmark in Uppsala had become known all over the world. I calmed them down and they decided to come.

Two Greek students who studied geology at the university said that the whole class had to choose either to write an exam that would take place in early May, or to go out into the woods in the Gävle area, which has received the most radioactivity, with protective equipment and instruments to measure the cesium level. If they were in the field for a week, they would pass the course. And almost everyone chose it to avoid the exam. 

Weeks before the public defense

Everything was finished with the thesis, but of course I felt very anxious. What if I couldn't handle the pressure! What would happen to the planned party and to my parents who had hoped to be present at the actual public defense and the conferment ceremony in the University Auditorium? 

To relax, I used to drive for a few hours around Uppland region and sometimes all the way up to Forsmark. I often took smaller country roads. The fields had turned green; it was quite warm and sunny. The fact that the car lacked air conditioning was not a problem. Instead, I breathed fresh and lovely air as I wove down my window.

Two days before the dissertation, I went to Arlanda to pick up my parents. They arrived late in the afternoon. It was of course bright and quite warm. They liked the beautiful nature on the way to Uppsala and couldn't believe that it was so hot. The last time they were in Sweden, they had experienced extremely cold and dark days. Now it was warm and bright nights instead. Even though I had told them not to bring warm clothes, my mother took a thick coat anyway.

After dinner we sat and talked until 11 o'clock. But since my mother's own clock showed 12 o'clock, she wondered when it would be dark to go to bed. I explained to her that she can go to bed in my bedroom because in a few hours the sun would rise. "How can you sleep when it's so bright?" she asked. While she waited for darkness, she became sleepy and went to bed. Dad and I talked a little more about the thesis and the process and went to bed after midnight.

At 4 o'clock in the morning my mother came to the living room and woke me up. She thought that the clock had stopped and that I had to get up because I had some practical errands at the university in the morning. She tried to wake up my dad too, who refused to get up because it was early and the time was right.

I tried to explain to her that there was nothing wrong with the clock, and I had told her that there is a lot of light so early in the morning. I asked her to go back to sleep. But it didn't work. The birds were chirping all the time and the light was so bright. She couldn't sleep anymore and went to the kitchen instead. She made some coffee and afterwards she started cleaning and washing dishes. I couldn't sleep anymore because of all the noise from the kitchen. Both my father and I got up and didn't know what to do.

An hour later we decided to go out into the beautiful nature. We took a short walk around the university campus. It was quiet and hardly anyone was visible. On the lawn there were some hares grazing without caring about us. But they were scared and walked a little further away when mom screamed with joy "look, hares in the middle of the town!"

I don't need to tell you that we were so tired this day and I had a lot of errands to do, such as about the dissertation dinner. We went to bed quite early, neither the light nor the birds bothered us. But before we went to bed, I repeated to my mom not to get up so early again.

Both parents woke up early anyway, they had slept enough and sat quietly in the kitchen until I woke up. They woke me up because the doorbell rang. It was a guy who wanted to hand over a bouquet of flowers with good wishes that Margaret had sent! It was a good start to the day. However, my mom wondered why the guy came so early to hand over the flowers. Maybe he should wait a few hours until I'm done with my dissertation, she thought. 

Dissertation day

The dissertation was to take place in the morning and we started to get ready. Mom wore her nice dress and high heels, while me and Dad wore our elegant suits and ties. I lived so close to HMC and it would take a few minutes to walk. But instead, it took fifteen minutes, because Mom's elegant shoes squeezed her feet. Anyway, we arrived at least half an hour early. I introduced my parents to everyone at the department and then we went to the hall so that they could get a good seat.

Christopher was with them and would help them with interpretation and everything else. Afterwards, people streamed into the hall, and at 9.00 a.m. the opponent, almost the entire department, as well as the grading committee, arrived. I sat in a table in one corner and the opponent in the other corner. We waited until 9.15 for the process to start. It is a tradition in Uppsala to have an academic quarter. That quarter was one of the most mentally pressing and longer I've experienced, even though there were many positive looks among the audience that tried to calm me down.

Bengt-Christer opened the public defense and after he introduced the opponent, the examining committee and me, he explained the process. Since there was nothing important that I could bring up before we started, the opponent was given the floor. He was from Stockholm and he knew me. He started straight and thought it was an exciting thesis he had the honor of opposing himself, not because it was about the importance of Swedish inventions for the country's growth, a matter close to his heart, but because it was written by a Greek! When I heard that, all the nervousness I've had the last few days was released. At the same time, I looked at Christopher who probably whispered something positive to my mother, and Barbara who showed a thumbs up.

The opponent first went through the entire thesis in an hour or so, before it was time for some questions. If I remember correctly, he asked five or six questions. But none of the questions were that difficult to answer. All of them were of a technical nature. If, for example, the patent statistics I had used were a good measure or had over- or underestimated the effects, if I was sure that I had included all the important innovations and the like, or if the causality method I used was good enough to prove that it was the inventions that came first and then led to economic growth.

I was prepared for three or four of the questions. When I drove around Uppland a few weeks earlier, I thought about how I would answer if I was asked such questions. I used the same tactics as when I was training for the Stockholm Marathon. I could tell that he was satisfied with my answers.

At the end he asked a question that I had not expected. He wondered if I should continue in the same area or do something else. I answered immediately, without thinking. I said that what I wanted to show with my patent statistics, I did, and my statistics cannot be used for anything more. Probably I would continue with this topic, but first I need to really relax before I decide. Both he and almost everyone in the room smiled. Since no one else had other questions to ask, he came towards me and congratulated, while my friends captured this historic moment with their cameras.

Then everyone was queuing up to congratulate me and I noticed that both my parents had tears in their eyes. The dad said something like, "It was worth every dollar I sent to you" and I got shivers all over my body. Then we went up to the conference room where the secretaries had prepared some drinks and we waited for the examining committee's decision. After a short meeting, Bengt-Christer came in and announced that everyone on the examining committee agreed and congratulated me. We toasted and talked a bit, before it was time to go and have lunch with the professors, the opponent, and the examining committee. The parents went home with Christopher and Barbara. They wanted to get some rest to cope with the big dissertation dinner that would take place a few hours later.

It is a tradition in Uppsala that the new doctor invites many people to a dissertation dinner. It was the same for me. Of course, I invited everyone I knew from the department, some friends, and my cousin Dimitris. Christopher, who sometimes worked as a waiter, recommended Rackarbacken, a cozy Greek restaurant that was known in Uppsala for the good food and the pleasant environment., very closed to HMC. But since the area out on the porch was not large enough, I invited about 60-70 people. My cousin sat next to my parents to talk and interpret for them. They hadn't seen each other for more than a decade, that is, since the summer we met up in the mountains. Mom liked it quite well when the cousin talked and interpreted all the time.

The atmosphere was wonderful; it was warm and bright. Christopher and a student of mine were two of four waiters. We had a fantastic three-course dinner, with fine Greek wine and Greek instrumental melodies could be heard in the background. Then it was time for the presents. Since my dissertation was about "Schumpeter's theory", a well-known Austrian economist who is considered the nestor of innovation theory and entrepreneurship, Bentzel, who had a good sense of humor, thought that a gift from Schumpeter would be a great fit. He began by telling me that a few hours ago he received a telegram from heaven, sent by Schumpeter, congratulating me on having lifted him to this wonderful place he was! The telegram also said that Bentzel had been ordered by Schumpeter to offer me his thick book "A History of Economic Analysis". Of course, everyone appreciated and applauded Benztel's fine speech.

Then it was time for me to give a short speech. After thanking everyone who participated in this special day, I talked a little about myself. I told them that when I was in high school in Amfilochia, I didn't think that one day I would become a doctor of economics in Sweden. In fact, it was my cousin's and father's merit that it turned out that way. I emphasized that my father's strict upbringing to invest in education instead of football and his generous funding played the most important role. And immediately after I said that it was my dad's fault that I didn't become a football player! Everyone laughed out loud. Then I mentioned that my dear cousin, who is sitting next to my mother and interpreting for her right now, had advised me not to come to Sweden and since I am a very stubborn, I came here! I remember my cousin's reaction when he heard it and at the same time tried to interpret it. Christopher took a photo then and you can see my cousin gesturing with his hands while my mom laughs.

There was no dance floor there and the secretaries thought we could move to the conference room in HMC. It was almost midnight when we left the restaurant. Many went home, including my parents, while we younger ones continued the party in HMC. There was some booze and we danced Greek Zorba dances until three o'clock in the morning.

The next day, all the new doctors were to attend the trial ceremony at the auditorium, ahead of the conferment ceremony that was to take place in two days. It was lucky that the audition ceremony was in the afternoon, as I woke up at lunchtime. There we got to practice how to walk along the stairs, where to sit in the auditorium and how to go to the podium to get our diploma from the Minister of Education.

Conferment Day

Conferment Day is very solemn in Uppsala and the tradition is at least 200 years old. Already at 7 a.m., a cannon salute was fired at Uppsala Castle to celebrate those who had completed their doctorates at the university. They want to wake up the city to pay tribute to the new doctors, as a badge of honor for them. And at 8 o'clock the big cathedral bell rang. 

The University Lobby opened at 11.30 a.m. Among the audience were my parents together with Christopher and Barbara. At 11.45 a.m., everyone who was to participate in the academic procession was gathered at the galleries of the University Hall, and the entrance procession began at 12 noon. In connection with that, even more cannon shots were fired. All the men wore tailcoats and the women wore long dresses.

The ceremony itself with speeches and music would take about 3 hours, since there were so many who were conferred that year. I was a little worried if my mother would be able to sit still for so long. But it went well. My mother told me afterwards that my father was touched when they called my name and I received my doctor's wreath and the diploma. Afterwards, outside the university building, a lot of photographs were of course taken with our loved ones. During the summer, my sister told me that our parents talked for hours about the glamorous ceremony and how elegant everyone was in the auditorium.

The festivities continued during the evening with a superb dinner and dancing in the Hall of State at Uppsala Castle. I remember leaving the castle with my friend Jonas Agell, who also became a doctor the same week as me, at 4 in the morning. A couple of hours later, my mom woke up and she kept quiet in the kitchen. I woke up at 11 o'clock without being disturbed and wondered what they were doing while I was sleeping. She told me that they went out on the town for a couple of hours so as not to disturb me.

Sightseeing in Stockholm

A few days later we went to Stockholm for some sightseeing. I first showed them Palme's murder scene and his grave. Then we went to the Royal Palace as my mother had wished. We walked around to the Reception Apartments and the Treasury. She was enchanted by what she saw and stopped everywhere to admire the elegance and art. She kept asking me about everything that was there, as if I knew it!

She was most fascinated by the Treasury and did not complain even though she had to go down into the dim cellar vault. And suddenly she remembered the beautiful pictures from the king's wedding that she saw in the weekly magazine about 10 years ago and asked what crown the queen had at the time. I didn't know that and just pointed to one of them. I don't think she was happy with the answer and she was going to check the weekly magazine when she returned to Greece. She was sure she had saved it! On the way out, she bought an elegant gold chain with a crown miniature.

Later in the afternoon we went to Skansen. At that time, there was an elephant house that was kept closed to preserve humidity. When we opened the door, it smelled very bad and mom yelled, in Greek of course, "God, how disgusting it smells!", while she held her nose. There were a lot of people inside the house and everyone laughed. They understood that the elderly lady thought it smelled so bad. 

At the glassworks, she was fascinated by the skilled glassblowers who made such elegant glass objects and bought a gift for my sister. She thought it was Kosta Boda, which was so famous in Greece at the time, and was a little sad when I told her that it was a different brand. I tried to show them the old log houses there, but she wasn't very impressed. She had stayed in similar houses in rural Greece as a young girl, she said.

The World Cup in Mexico was already underway and every night my dad and I sat and watched the late games, while my mom slept. I still remember Maradona's "hand of God" in the game against England and how we laughed when we saw that goal.

In a few days they would go back to Greece. I think they experienced wonderful things in Sweden and were very happy and proud of me. On the way to Arlanda, my mother said that she understood me when I decided to move to Sweden. And since she noticed that I was doing well, it didn't matter if I didn't keep my promise to return to Greece after my studies. Maybe she said it for my sake, because deep down she hoped that I would return to Greece.

My dissertation was also noticed abroad, by the "International J. A. Schumpeter Society" in Augsburg and I became an honorary member of the society.  It was also noticed by the Swedish media, by many inventors and entrepreneurs.

I received about a dozen letters from inventors telling me how banks snubbed them when they sought funding. Some people thought that I, as a doctor on the subject, should write an article and criticize the banks that are so generous to, for example, the real estate market and so stingy towards innovators. Others thought I was the right person to judge their invention, sent me a sketch and asked me what I thought. Of course, I very much appreciated all these letters I received and I replied to almost all of them because I felt sorry for them and should be treated much better by both society and the banks. The patent office also noticed my thesis and I had a lecture there.

I myself did not dare to go to Greece on holiday because I would be arrested and forced to do the military service. The PhD was done and I felt relaxed, but the next question was "what do I do now?"

Chapter 10

10.  The shot on Sveavägen

1986 is perhaps the year that meant so much, not only for me, but especially for Sweden. My own life and the modern history of Sweden have changed completely. It was the year that the prime minister Olof Palme was murdered and I became a Philosophie doctor in economics. Palme's murder affected me more than my own academic success, and it is worth writing an entire chapter about this historic event. I was in Stockholm on the night of the murder, as I was on the day of the funeral. 

As I mentioned earlier, both Palme and Refaat came to Uppsala at the end of 1985 and both were warmly applauded and admired by an entire hall. I do not know if this was the irony of fate, but in 1986 it started with the two disappearing within a few weeks.

The collapse of Fermenta

In mid-January 1986, Volvo's chairman, P.G. Gyllenhammar, planned to sell the shares of Pharmacia and Sonesson, owned by Volvo, and be paid in shares of Fermenta, which were priced extremely high. The value of Fermenta's stake was then estimated at around 5 billion crowns.

But at the beginning of February, Björn Gillberg, who had known Refaat since their study time at Uppsala University, revealed that Refaat's supposed PhD in biochemistry was a big scam and Fermenta's technology was not worth the enormous value of its stock on the Stockholm Stock Exchange. Soon after, Gyllenhammar pulled out of the giant deal, and Fermenta's stock price collapsed. 

There were many students who had bought shares of Fermenta, and some were affected after the appearance of Refaat in December. Personally, I did not dare to do it because as soon as I decided to buy, the price went up by at least 10 crowns a day.

Some others asked me for advice, but I was quite skeptical. After the bombshell that Björn Gillberg threw on the evening news, the next day its price fell by 80%. But when Refaat promised that he would show his PhD in a day or two, its price stabilized at very low levels. Gillberg was ultimately right, and Refaat was not a PhD as he said. A few days later, the share cost about one crown.

The Fermenta case was the dominant topic in the daily news. How was it possible for the director of Volvo to fall into such a trap? Was Refaat manipulating Fermenta's financial results? How could such a solemn board of directors of Fermenta agree to financial irregularities? The topic was so hot that even we in our department discussed it every day.

But, on Saturday, March 1, all media coverage of the Fermenta case suddenly ended. It was the shooting in Stockholm the night before, which would dominate the world of news for months and years to come. No one cared about Fermenta anymore.

Palme's assassination

On Friday, February 28th, I and my friends went to Stockholm's Old Town, Gamla Stan, to have fun in a pub. On Fridays we often went to various student pubs in Uppsala, but on that Friday, we went to Stockholm.

We took the train in the late afternoon and headed to the Old Town. It was a typical cold February day with snow. We had a good time in the pub with food and beer, but time went by quickly. The pub we were staying in was very close to Palme's apartment. And while we were eating and drinking, Olof and Lisbet Palme made their way to the metro station in the Old Town to go to the Grand, a Cinema in Rådmansgatan, three stops away.

We planned to take the midnight train to Uppsala and walk to the station, to get some fresh air. Since the walk would take just under half an hour, we left the pub at 11.15. We thought it was better to walk along the Drottninggatan pedestrian street to the big Åhléns store in the center of Stockholm and then turn left to Klarabergsgatan street to the central station.

Just before we reached the main square, Sergelstorg, we heard a lot of sirens and wondered what it was. Palme had just been murdered, but we had no idea. When we approached nearby, we saw some patrol cars running fast towards Hamngatan or towards Sveavägen. We thought it was common things on Friday nights, especially when people who had just been paid were going out to have fun. Some walked while others ran towards Sveavägen. We, because it was already a quarter past twelve and we were going in the opposite direction, continued towards the station so as not to miss the train to Uppsala.

We did not notice anything there, we went to the train platform, sat down, and continued to talk. Some of my friends were a little bit drunk. When we arrived in Uppsala, just before 1 o’clock in the morning, it was relatively quiet and few people on the street. Then we went home. I was quite tired and fell asleep.

At 6 on Saturday morning, the phone rang. I heard it, but I did not want to answer. But because the persistent ringing continued, I went to the hallway to answer. It was my sister from Athens who called. It was seven o'clock there and she told me that they shot and killed Palme at midnight in Stockholm. I was very angry that she woke me up. I asked her if she was dreaming or wanted to tease me so early in the morning. I told her that I was in Stockholm at night and that nothing happened there.

She insisted and told me to turn on the TV, because the Greek television was showing live from Swedish television in Stockholm. I hung up the phone and turned on the TV. Then I saw the Deputy Prime Minister, Ingvar Carlsson, very sad, in a black suit and tie, talking about the terrible event. When I heard him, I felt like I had been hit with a hard punch in the stomach and I was stunned and frozen. My heart was pounding and I sat on the couch for at least thirty minutes looking at the TV. I tried to absorb every suggestion of journalists, politicians, and the police to find out anything about the murder.

Then I went and took a shower for a long time. While the water was running down my body, a thousand thoughts passed through my head. If we had gone to another pub in Odenplan, near the Grand cinema, we would have gone via Sveavägen to the main station, just like Olof and Lisbet were going. We probably would have met the killer and perhaps he would not have fired when there were enough adults around. I refused to accept that the Prime Minister of Sweden was dead. Political assassinations cannot happen in the land of my dreams! Such a thing had not happened for 55 years anyway, that is, since the events of 1931 in Ådalen. My thought went automatically to that movie I had seen in Athens.

I was terribly sad, angry but also desperate. My amazing Sweden has just been raped by a brutal criminal who murders the country's prime minister in cold blood, while he was walking unguarded on a main street in the quiet Stockholm. Of course, it was easy enough to assassinate an unguarded prime minister in Sweden. But not even unscrupulous criminals should consider this a great act, even if they hated him. This horrific murder was the ultimate proof of cowardice and inhumanity, I thought. And if such an event happened in my innocent Sweden, where should I go? Everything was shattered.

There were many who hated Palme. My first suspicions went to the CIA because Palme had criticized the U.S. war against Vietnam, and had good relations with Cuban leader Fidel Castro. There were also some ultra-conservative Swedes, such as the EAP, who wanted to get rid of Palme because they believed that Sweden would ally with the Soviet Union. He planned to visit the Soviet Union to make an agreement turning the Baltic area into a peaceful sea free from the nuclear arms. There was also the racist regime in South Africa, which hated him for his strong support for the ANC. A week before the assassination, the ANC had held a major conference in Stockholm and the South African government had sent agents to attend. And of course, all of them could very well work together to carry out this horrific murder.

All morning, I sat in front of the TV and watched the news and all the reports. At noon, my friend Christopher called me and told me that there would be a silent memorial service behind the University, where students, various organizations and associations would participate with torches. Of course, I went there. There were many people and the atmosphere was very heavy. Everyone was silent and with a blank look they held their torches.

There were about twenty Greeks, both from the Greek Association and from the Greek Cultural House. Christopher whispered in my ear that it was the first time that these two rival clubs stood united against the enormous evil that had struck Sweden. During the heavy memorial service, there was a glimmer of hope that the Greeks at Uppsala would finally unite. But it took another three years for it to become a reality.

On Sunday, Christopher planned to go to Stockholm to visit the scene of the murder and leave some flowers. Of course I went with him. Since it was Sunday and schools in Stockholm had winter holidays, there was not much traffic and it was easy to find parking. Christopher parked the car near the Grand cinema.

We walked almost the same route that Olof and Lisbet had walked, bought some roses, and arrived at the crime scene. It was of course blocked, with many mourning, lots of placards in various languages, and a sea of flowers over the snow covering the sidewalk. We stayed there for quite some time before returning to Uppsala. On the way back we did not talk much, but we agreed that the brutal murder of Palme might be the beginning of the end for Sweden.

On Monday morning, the atmosphere in our department was very heavy. Everyone sat silently in the coffee room. After a while, the new professor in charge of my thesis, Bengt-Christer Ysander, came and asked me how much time I had left to finish my writing. Basically, it was ready, but it had to be perfected. But I could not work after what had happened and I needed some time to continue my work, I told him. He understood it and left me alone. Of course, I knew that I would have to work a little more if I wanted to defend my thesis at the end of May. And we agreed that we will check it together first, before sending it for printing.

I spent several hours a day watching television, reading newspapers, and talking to friends about Palme's murder and less time about the dissertation. I remember the Stockholm police asking people if they had any ideas to call them and maybe all their suggestions will be considered. In those years you could call the police directly, without standing in line and I called them!

To express myself correctly and clearly on the phone, I wrote down my idea that there should plan a play-back from the metro-station where Olof and Lisbet took the underground to the cinema. I assumed that the murder was not planned, and the killer, or whoever ordered the murder, must have traveled in the same train as Olof and Lisbet. Whether he was already in the same wagon before Olof and Lisbet got in, or entered the Old Town station just like them, or at the penultimate stop, Hötorget, he also got off at Rådmansgatan and followed them all the way to the Grand Cinema.

Of course, if the killer knew in advance that they were going to the cinema, he did not need to go with them. It was enough to wait for them near the Grand to confirm it. In this case, the murder was planned. But no one knew that the Palme family would go to the cinema to plan the murder according to Swedish security, and consequently must have traveled in the same wagon and got off at the same stop, in Rådmansgatan.

I recommended that the police ask the Stockholm metro to make a re-enactment, that is, to release the metro from Gamla Stan to Rådmansgatan. Of course, the police would ask all passengers in the same wagon as Olof and Lisbet to sit or stand exactly where they were sitting that Friday. When Olof and Lisbet took the metro from Gamla Stan, they should of course have noticed it, as well as when they got off at Rådmansgatan. If all the other passengers sitting in the same wagon as the Palme family were vigilant, they might remember the man sitting or standing there and could give some good signs. In the early 80s there were no mobile phones for communication, only a few "walkie-talkies". And if the suspect had a walkie-talkie, it would be even easier to identify him. The police thanked me for my theory and promised that it would be investigated.

I have read many books and articles about the murder. But from what I have read, there was never a play-back, so probably my analysis was dismissed as impossible.

Palme's funeral

Saturday, March 15, was the day of the funeral. It was a gray and very cold day. Together with Christopher we went to Stockholm to say a last goodbye to Palme. Since we would be out for many hours, we got extra warm clothes. We also knew that in the center of Stockholm, where the procession would pass, there were many barricades. But since we had planned to go to the funeral, I contacted my old friend from the University, Margaret von Platen who worked at the financial newspaper Dagens Industri, if we could go together and go through the blockade zones.

We went to her house first and then walked together towards the main street, Kungsgatan. We were not allowed to stand there, but a polite policeman suggested that we go to one of the bridges over Kungsgatan and watch the procession from above. The bridge was also blocked, but another police officer there allowed two more people if the third had a permit, provided they did not lean on the edge of the bridge so as not to be seen. So, we both went with Margaret.

After about an hour, the coffin and all the participants in the black limousines passed. I remember that both Christopher and I were in tears. We then went back to Margaret's apartment to warm up and drink something warm. We sat there for a couple of hours and watched the rest of the ceremony on TV. Then we went to the car, which was parked near the Polytechnic, to return to Uppsala.

As we walked towards Sveavägen, we noticed a lot of people standing in queue near the Adolf Fredrik Church, where the burial had taken place. An elderly lady told us that we were allowed to go to the grave, but the queue was very long and it would take some hours. It was already evening and we were hungry. Then I suggested to Christopher that we go first to eat some hamburgers and come back. We did and when we came back close to 11pm, the queue was still long.

People stood in a huge circular queue around the small cemetery, out in the wild frost. We decided to stay and stood also in line. There were a few wandering vendors selling either roses or coffee and tea. The queue was endless and I remember that we had at least three cups of coffee and tea to warm up. My feet were frozen, but we waited patiently.

If I remember correctly, we arrived at the tomb at 2.30 in the morning and behind us there were still people waiting. On the way back, Christopher put classical music on the radio. We were completely exhausted after such a heavy and tiring day. Palme's funeral will stay in my mind for the rest of my life. Even now that I write, after 37 years, I feel chills and emotion.

A few days later I also told Villy that the shooting in Sveavägen reminded me of "Ådalen 31" and that I went with Christopher to the funeral. He was happy and invited us for dinner. There Villy and Eva told us some interesting stories about Palme what he was like as a person and a politician.

Epilogue

Reading this chapter, you will probably get the impression that I must have been a passionate social democrat. The truth is that I have never been involved in politics. I would probably express the same feelings even if they had killed a conservative prime minister. For me, the murder of Palme was above all murder against my beloved Sweden.

Of course, we must not forget that after the shooting in Ådalen in 1931, the Social Democrats came to power for the first time and created the famous Swedish social welfare system. Although in my dissertation I wanted to show the importance of Swedish inventions for the economic development of the country, both the first Prime Minister, Per-Albin Hansson, and his successor, Tage Erlander, had played an important role in the Swedish model. I share the same view as many foreign researchers, analysts, historians, and politicians.

Olof Palme was Tage Erlander's successor and of course he fought for Sweden like the previous ones. In addition, I appreciated his brilliance, his intellectual ability, his courage towards both the United States and the Soviet Union, and his passion for international solidarity, peace, and justice.

The old social democrats had a perfect mixture of socialism and capitalism. Of course, the rhetoric of the class struggle existed all time, but it was maintained at balanced levels. Instead, they tried to bridge class differences and succeeded with the Saltsjöbaden agreement in 1938 to unite capital with the workers for the prosperity of their country. As a result, the Social Democrats became the dominant party and governed the country for several decades.

The reforms mainly concerned a more even distribution of income and welfare. And this was achieved with the help of private enterprises where almost all worked and produced incredible industrial products that were exported all over the world.

The growing prosperity was naturally financed by high taxes, which led to problems a few decades later, when their industry shrank and taxes had reached very high levels. And when taxpayers felt that politicians began to prioritize other areas and could no longer handle the growing problems, trust in them declined.

After Palme's death, the decline of social democracy began. The assassination itself occasionally led to a temporary surge in popularity of the party, but no one could stop the negative trend. Only his interim successor, Ingvar Carlsson, had great respect for classical social democratic values and tried to govern the country accordingly. His time in power was quite short and all those who took over later saw the continuous decline of social democracy in every election. I think that many who remained in the social democratic party changed their ideas, while those who wanted to keep their classical ideas, changed parties!

And so, this elite party became an ordinary party, while most social democrats who left politics switched to lucrative private or public enterprises.

Sometimes life is unfair. You don't have to be a good politician to get a good non-political job later. After all, the private sector rewards all former politicians, as it expects politicians to have "confidential" information that is important to the employer. And although "private information" is punishable when one uses it in the stock market, the same is not true of politicians who move into the business world.