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.