Fredrik Erixon

In the past six weeks, Finland and Sweden’s security policies have changed more than they have over the past six decades. In much of what they do, the two countries come as a couple and were militarily neutral during the Cold War – but their defence cooperation has only deepened since Russia’s invasion of Crimea in 2014. Now, the two are about to break with their long history of non-alignment. Their applications to join Nato are likely to come in the next two months. At a press conference in Stockholm this week, the prime ministers of the two countries – Sanna Marin and Magdalena Andersson – came close to admitting they want their countries to join the western military alliance. That declaration cannot be understated.

Norway has just elected a new Prime Minister. Erna Solberg, the convivial centre-right leader that has governed the country for eight years, is now on her way out. Her coalition — which included the populist Progress party, the liberals and the Christian democrats — took a heavy beating last night, losing almost ten percentage points since the 2017 election. It clearly didn’t help that Solberg is still popular around the country and is reckoned to have managed the pandemic well. Norwegian opinion has been moving to the left for quite some time. Now the voters have painted the country red. Jonas Gahr Støre, the leader of the Labour party, will be the new Prime Minister. He’s a safe pair of hands.

After Brexit, the general assumption was that France and Germany would take their place as the two rulers of Europe. But Angela Merkel’s influence has been waning and Germany is often an absent power — preoccupied as it is by redefining its own politics after 15 years of her rule. This suits Emmanuel Macron, who was never satisfied with sharing the stage with her. He has found himself another ally, one who is far more influential than people give him credit for — Viktor Orban. Macron and Orban have a monastic attitude to power: they both rule on the basis of there being a single orthodoxy that everyone must observe. They also like to behave like monarchs, treating voters as subjects and accepting few restrictions on their personal projects.

This coronavirus has been cruel to the European Union. The supposed fraternity of member states was the first casualty of the virus, as countries hoarded their medical equipment and banned exports to each other. When Italy’s borrowing costs soared Christine Lagarde, now president of the European Central Bank, said this was not her problem. After much soul-searching — and an apology to Italy from Ursula von der Leyen, the new Commission president — Brussels is trying to repair the damage. But in a way that is exposing new, deeper cracks. For weeks, Angela Merkel has been giving a resolute ‘Nein’ to the proposal that the eurozone should issue common bonds, so-called ‘coronabonds’, to help Italy, Spain and others to avoid a sovereign debt crisis.

Uppsala Last week, Europe started its liberation from lockdown — and it all feels like a study in national political identity. Belgium took its first step towards ‘deconfinement’ but no one seems exactly sure what that means. France is opting for complexity rather than simplicity. Italy’s national plan for the easing of its lockdown is more convoluted still, but few regions bother to follow it anyway. Spain, goes a national joke, went more slowly and started with a reopening of the siesta. And in Germany, everyone is praising the country’s scientific approach to the pandemic, but as soon as they were allowed to roam freely again, many Germans headed for the beer gardens. Governments say their approach is ‘guided by the science’.

Sweden’s refusal to embrace lockdown measures used elsewhere to deal with the threat of coronavirus hasn’t led to the steep spike in deaths and intensive care patients that some feared. Our death toll is, at the time of writing, close to 2,020 – and the rate of infections is slowly declining. The number of patients in intensive care has flatlined and the number of new patients in critical care has gone down sharply in the past week. If this development continues, Sweden will end up very far away from frightening estimates suggesting 80-90,000 people could die before the summer. The situation at our hospitals will be stressed, but under control. Sweden will then exit the pandemic with a tolerable death toll.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about ‘the Swedish experiment’ in The Spectator.  As the world went into lockdown, Sweden opted for a different approach to tackling coronavirus: cities, schools and restaurants have remained open. This was judged by critics to be utterly foolish: it would allow the virus to spread much faster than elsewhere, we were told, leading to tens of thousands of deaths. Hospitals would become like warzones. As Sweden was two weeks behind the UK on the epidemic curve, most British experts said we’d pay the price for our approach when we were at the peak. Come back in two weeks, I was told. Let's see what you're saying then. So here I am. I'm happy to say that those fears haven’t materialised.

Uppsala Who would have thought that Sweden would end up being the last place in Europe where you could go for a beer? We have, in our normalcy, suddenly become an exotic place. Other countries are closing their cities, schools and economies, but life in our corner of the world is surprisingly ordinary. Last weekend I went to the gym, met up with friends, and sat in the spring sun at outdoor cafés. My foreign friends are stunned. They can’t fathom that there are still people enjoying the fruits of civilisation, as if the natural reaction to pandemics is to embrace totalitarianism. And they wrestle with another conundrum: how on earth did Sweden end up being the final bastion of liberty?

India is not preparing for war, but picking up the newspapers in Delhi you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. For weeks, the papers have been blowing the horns of retribution against Islamabad after a convoy of police officers was rammed by a suicide bomber in Kashmir. Since both sides acquired nuclear weapons, neither had sent a warplane to bomb the other — until last week. Friends in Europe send me anxious messages: isn’t it time to leave Delhi while I still can? The Americans I meet are all a bit jumpy. A couple I chat with at the Khan Market doubt the US Embassy can rescue them if all goes off the rails — or, as they say, ‘Fubar’ (‘Fouled’ up beyond all recognition). Food and water are being stockpiled.