“The Winter Palace” in Malmö: Subversive Activists, Welfare-State Anarchists, or Just a Slightly Radical Cultural Association?

Abstract

The Winter Palace (TWP) was a venue and association within the left-wing alternative environment in Malmö between 1987–1989, with premises in the port area. The venue ran a pub and café; arranged concerts, public lectures, and movie screenings; broadcasted radio; published fanzines; and more. The idea was that the proceeds would be used to build a Southern Swedish center for anarchist propaganda and political struggle. However, this idea did not fully realize, and the extensive mix of cultural activities is probably better remembered today than the more explicit political activities that were carried out. In the early 1990s, the far-left environment in Sweden changed. A more autonomous (and violent) group led a long and controversial squatting event in Malmö, resulting in the biggest operation to date by Swedish police against this kind of activity. Apparently, a generational shift had taken place and the methods used by TWP were criticized for not being political enough. This article follows the events at TWP during its active period and draws several conclusions from the similar squatting movement in western Europe at the same time. It also discusses if there was a specific way of Swedish alternative left-wing actions in the 1980s.

Setting the Scene

The Winter Palace (Vinterpalatset) was a venue and association within the left-wing alternative environment in Malmö (Sweden’s third biggest city) between 1987 and 1989. The association had premises in the port area and was, by its own definition, an anarchist group. The venue ran a pub and café; arranged concerts, public lectures, and movie screenings; broadcasted radio; published fanzines; and more. The idea was that the proceeds would be used to build a Southern Swedish center for anarchist propaganda and political struggle. However, this idea did not fully realize, and the extensive mix of cultural activities is probably better remembered today than the more explicit political activities that were carried out.¹

Even though the Winter Palace (TWP) claimed to be influenced by various European occupation groups (“squatters”), the venue was let by the city of Malmö on a legal demolition contract. Nevertheless, the association still considered themselves part of the squatter scene and had frequent contact with groups in other cities. Some confrontations with police and other groups did occur, but nowhere near as often as for similar groups in e.g., Copenhagen and Amsterdam. TWP was otherwise very focused on a pacifist, non-violent agenda, with roots in the progressive movements of the 1960s and 1970s. When the venue’s contract finally expired in 1989, the activists left the premises without resistance, and instead ran the café The Black Cat (Svarta katten) for a few years. In the 1990s the emergence of the more violent autonomous scene made the activities at TWP look past one’s prime for the younger activists.

The purpose of this article is to investigate the Winter Palace activist group in Malmö, and to analyze their actions from a “political opportunity structures” framework. This framework is defined by political science researcher Sidney Tarrow as examining “consistent but not necessarily formal, permanent, or national signals to social or political actors [,] which either encourage or discourage them to use their internal resources to form social movements.”² More specifically, Tarrow refers to “aspects of the political system that affect the possibilities that challenging groups have to mobilize effectively.” Political opportunities could therefore be summed up as “options for collective action, with chances and risks attached to them, which depend on factors outside the mobilizing group.”³

The article builds on three main sources: First and foremost, the Winter Palace’s archive collection, which has never previously been used in research, and contains documents such as meeting minutes, correspondence with authorities, fanzines/pamphlets, posters, and more. Second, articles from contemporary niche magazines, such as Brand/Total-Brand and Magazin April, which occasionally covered TWP. Third, semi-structured interviews with three of the leading activists, including TWP’s first chairman, and two other activists who regularly wrote in the abovementioned niche magazines. The interviews were conducted and analyzed in line with today’s scientific standards, bearing in mind that the events took place over 30 years ago.⁴

Historical Background

During the early 1980s, several Northern and Western European cities were characterized by an extensive house occupant scene, later known as the “squatters’ movement.” This movement combined political activities with subcultural living, and more or less militant groups in e.g., Amsterdam, Copenhagen, West Berlin, Zurich, and London managed to occupy houses or even entire neighborhoods.⁵ Bart van der Steen states that even though the 1980s movement shared much of the action repertoire of older groups, especially the mixture of radical politics and alternative culture, a significant shift took place around 1980. New activists, mostly drawn from the middle and working classes, focused less on theory, and more on direct political action. The goal was to create free, alternative zones where a variety of cultural events and political actions could take place. Another defining part of the activist milieu of the mid-1980s was the influence of the punk wave—with its “do-it-yourself” agenda—probably as a counter-reaction to the more dogmatic Marxist-Leninist left of the 1970s (which at the time led to a dwindling existence).⁶

These conflict repertoires soon spread across Western Europe; certainly not to all cities, but enough to create a clear trend. The squatters’ movement incorporated various political questions in their struggle, such as animal rights, peace activism, and anti-racism.⁷ Most groups used the occupation of buildings as an infrastructural starting point from which other political actions could be organized. These autonomous social centers generally played a vital role in the city’s cultural and political environment by providing a space for underground music and other cultural events, as well as political activities.⁸ Eventually, the term “autonomous” came to be more often used to describe this subculture, rather than the formerly used “squatters’ movement.”⁹

For the Swedish context, an influential example of the European squatters’ movement was the Danish group BZ, which emerged during one of Europe’s most energetic and extensive occupations, starting in Copenhagen in 1981. The Danish scene involved violent confrontations with police, and frequent street battles, which were later romanticized and used in the movement’s own historical writings to strengthen internal morale.¹⁰ In several Swedish cities, more or less ambitious attempts were made to copy the European strategy, especially in Stockholm, and in the long-standing occupation of the Haga quarters in Gothenburg. As Dominika V. Polanska shows in her contribution to this book, occupations also took place in smaller towns. Specifically, groups frequently demanded or claimed, houses for rock band rehearsals and gigs. The more political connection on a macro level was often more implicitly linked to the struggle though, and physical violence was seldom used.¹¹

Returning to the occupation of Haga in Gothenburg, sociologist Håkan Thörn shows how the many years of struggle in these quarters constitute a special case in Sweden. The occupation did not specifically concern venues for political action or cultural events, but rather the wider issue of city planning, i.e., whether or not the buildings should be demolished. Between 1970 and 1990, several different buildings in the Haga district were occupied, and according to Thörn, an “urban alternative culture was established that was unparalleled in any other Swedish city.” Thörn demonstrates how this occupation eventually diverged from the movements of most other European cities by displaying a friendly and positive attitude toward police and other authorities. He also highlights how the image of the occupants changed over time, from being heavily criticized by politicians and the media, to becoming an active party in development negotiations at the “consensus-culture conversation table.”¹²

To explain this multifaceted development, Thörn uses the phrase “welfare-state anarchists” (folkhemsanarkister), which he regards as a specifically Swedish phenomenon. Although the Haga occupants displayed an ideological affiliation with BZ, the Danish scene at this time was characterized by violent clashes between activists and police, as well as a reluctance to negotiate with authorities, which was uncommon in Gothenburg. Instead, the Haga activists used humor and self-irony in an, according to Thörn, deliberate attempt to distance themselves from the violent escalation between police and activists in Copenhagen.¹³ As we shall see, the “welfare-state anarchist” label is also useful for explaining the contradictions among TWP activists in Malmö.

The Winter Palace

At the beginning of the 1980s, Malmö, which is located just a short ferry ride away from Copenhagen, had been governed by the Swedish Social Democratic Party for nearly 60 years, since universal suffrage was established in 1921. The party regularly arranged cultural activities for teenagers and the rest of the city through municipal channels,¹⁴ but in the early 1980s, youth groups became more vocal in requesting rehearsal spaces, as well as bigger venues for bands and concerts—demands that can be traced to the impact of the punk scene.¹⁵ At the same time, cultural “all-activity houses” were a big international talking point. Following a series of political actions and debates, a former restaurant in Malmö, Stadt Hamburg, opened as a music venue in 1984. Several local cultural associations (33/44, Huset, Dundret, and KIM Ung) were invited to run the premises in cooperation with the municipal cultural administration. However, the municipal youth association, which was supposed to act as the coordinator, was soon taken over by left-wing activists,¹⁶ forming a core group of young people who were interested in both politics and culture. They introduced a new association, S.O.T, whose statute wrote: to “stand as a cultural support organization for the anarchist movement” through “mainly cultural events.”¹⁷

Another important development for TWP took place during the summer of 1986, when a group of anarchists from Southern and Central Sweden banded together to organize a touring festival called The Joy Train (Glädjetåget). The festival was influenced by the hippie events of the 1970s, as well as the concurrent revival tours of the Pentecostal movement,¹⁸ and was arranged through the so-called A-network, which aimed to bring anarchist groups in Southern Sweden closer together. The purpose of the tour was primarily to spread the anarchist message, but it also offered concerts, theater performances, and other cultural events. The tour in 1986 visited around ten locations and seems to have been met with mixed interest, but it was of great importance as an identity-forming factor.¹⁹ The Joy Train also led to a rapid inflow of activists from other cities to Malmö, where a new community arose. This community soon mixed with activists from Stadt Hamburg/S.O.T. and local syndicalists, laying the foundations for the Winter Palace association.²⁰

In 1987, the group signed a so-called demolition contract in the Malmö port area, renting the premises of a former docking company. The area was dilapidated, and major restoration of the entire neighborhood was due to start soon. The contract started on March 27, 1987, for the price of 60 000 SEK per year,²¹ and allowed the premises to be used for “exhibition and printing operations,” which came to be interpreted in a much broader sense over the next few years.²² An additional clause specified that the building would be demolished in the near future and that the tenants would not be able to make claims for a replacement venue, nor financial compensation²³ (Picture 5.1).

Picture 5.1

(Photo The Labour Movements’s Archive in Skåne)

The Winter Palace’ in Malmö

The location on Winter Street gave rise to the name “the Winter Palace,” in the spirit of traditional European activism.²⁴ However, it was hardly a palace. Though relatively large (350 square meters), it was almost empty, and in urgent need of renovations. Some early investments included materials and equipment for the printing, later followed by a darkroom, a workshop, and a café/pub, where a stage was also built.²⁵ The range of possibilities for different activities shows the international influence of all-activity houses and the departure from the “music house” format which was typical of Southern Swedish cities in the 1980s.

Purpose and Practice

In the first article mentioning TWP, published by Magazin April in the spring of 1987, an unnamed activist shares the story behind the all-activity house:

As usual, we sat and talked about our dreams and ambitions, you know, like you do. Suddenly, someone started talking about having a place to do everything. Everything we had always dreamed of but hadn’t been able to realize. A place where we’re not dependent on associations or government grants, but where we ourselves must take responsibility, and would be able to develop our abilities and ideas.²⁶

Although the goal was to be independent, a formal association was needed in order to obtain a contract for, and run a business in, the dilapidated house. On March 7, 1987, the association held a constituent meeting, where a board was elected, signatories were appointed, and the membership fee was set to 50 SEK per year. One of the activists has subsequently expressed how unbearably boring all these formalities were,²⁷ but in view of the impeccable documents that were left behind, the participants were not unfamiliar with board meetings. The documents also declared the formal statutes of TWP:

To be a political force with the aim of promoting alternative and libertarian ideas, of supporting and promoting anti-authoritarian ideas. To promote the formation of cooperatives. To work to undermine the structures of capitalist society through media, information, mediation, cultural activities, and through practical examples, showing that change is possible in the prevailing social system.²⁸

At the time of this constituent meeting, the association had 120 members, but the collected membership fees were barely enough to pay the first rent. At a later meeting, it was calculated that TWP would need at least 10 000 SEK a month to keep their activities going.²⁹ According to a more ambitious calculation, income from printing, editorial work, exhibitions, tours, and other projects, would be able to cover the entire operating cost within six months. In the short term, however, the majority of the running costs would have to be collected through “support events/parties.” It is unclear exactly how many of these were held, but at the beginning of May 1987, the first attempts were summed up in a kind of commentary protocol, showing that the group had already made around 7000 SEK (although it “should” have been 9300 SEK if people hadn’t nicked some of the beer).³⁰

In July and August 1987, new meetings were held to discuss possible sources of income. The solution was a “big party.”³¹ By this time, party arrangements had become quite standardized: Usually, 30 crates of beer were ordered, and the chairman was appointed to apply for a formal alcohol license from the municipality.³² Arranging illegal parties, or even selling beer illegally, does not seem to have been considered. The Swedish alcohol policy was very strict at this time, differing greatly from the situation in Denmark. Thus, in other contexts, cheap beer smuggled in from Denmark was very common in Malmö, but TWP does not seem to have engaged in this kind of activity, at least not to sell.

Toward the end of 1987, TWP shifted its focus outwards, beginning the publication of the pamphlet The Winter Palace, which listed a wealth of public events, such as concerts, poetry readings, film screenings, and lectures. Roughly one Saturday a month, a “special party” was also arranged for members only, which usually involved a concert with a slightly more well-known band.³³ A recurring point in the rhapsodic discussion protocols relates to exactly who was welcome at these events; to attend, you had to be a member, but each member could also bring a friend. It is possible that this issue reflected arbitrary practices³⁴ (Picture 5.2).

Picture 5.2

(Photo The Labour Movements’s Archive in Skåne)

The Winter Palace’ in Malmö—building a stage

At the start of 1988, a printing plant, a photo lab, and a garage opened at TWP. The photo lab is known to have been run as a study circle, which was the classic way to arrange popular education in the Swedish labor movement, as well as in other popular movements, during the twentieth century. The same spring, the association discussed whether to create false membership lists for their study circles as a way to raise money, but found that this was not necessary due to the amount of genuine activity.³⁵

In connection with the association’s first annual meeting, on March 12, 1988, two interesting documents were compiled: a standard annual report by the first chairman, accompanied by formal annual meeting minutes; and a detailed summary by the secretary, where he discusses specific subjects in more detail. In the annual report, the chairman states that the association arranged a “fair mix of cultural and political activities” during the year. He mentions some examples of political events, such as demonstrations and situationist actions, but mainly refers to cultural activities.³⁶ However, the secretary also highlights a discussion of the association’s ideology and objectives during the meeting, focusing primarily on whether they had succeeded in becoming “a kind of anarchist liaison center,” or whether they gave the impression of simply being “a slightly radical cultural association.” Following this discussion, some important conclusions were drawn for TWP’s future goals:

The activities at TWP must be such that we can act as a liaison center/information agency, in collaboration with other anarchist and alternative groups in Skåne and the rest of Sweden, so that the actions carried out to improve our society can be well-coordinated and well-substantiated with knowledge. In order for this to be implemented, the ‘ground service’ must work. […] Cultural events also have their rightful place within TWP: if nothing else, ‘culture shock therapy’ is an effective form of action.³⁷

According to these guidelines, the political activity would form the core of TWP, while the various activities offered in the building would function as a “ground service,” i.e., a way to keep the association running. The role of culture within the association thus became more ambiguous: should its “given place” be as a ground service, as a form of action, or as something else in its own right? Although this question was never answered, TWP continued to arrange concerts, parties, lectures, plays, poetry readings, film screenings, etc. during their final year. They also launched their own local radio channel, which broadcasted twice a week, and The Winter Palace pamphlet evolved into more of a regular magazine. From this point onwards, the meeting minutes, or rather meeting notes, continued to mostly revolve around practical tasks, e.g., how the pub should be staffed, who would do the cleaning, whether there were functioning fire safety measures, and so on.

These public cultural events probably bore the main responsibility for TWP becoming a well-known name in Malmö, but they also involved certain issues, which were debated by the activists: Was it politically sound to put so much effort into providing cheap beer for people, and did TWP offer enough political activities in relation to all these cultural events? There was ambiguity in what “supporting anarchist issues” really entailed: To hold a free zone for creativity and culture, free from a world of capitalism, racism, and sexism; or to perform public political activities, such as demonstrations? These debates were never concluded. The last party, however, took place in February 1989, under the name “TOTAL PARTY – one last clearing party!”, before TWP was demolished³⁸ (Picture 5.3).

Picture 5.3

(Photo The Labour Movements’s Archive in Skåne)

Flyer from ‘The Winter Palace’ in Malmö

It’s easy to highlight the many cultural activities that TWP arranged, due to preserved protocols and programs, but it is more difficult to point to their explicitly political activities. Apparently, TWP collaborated extensively with other associations and networks, both within Sweden and across Europe. Solidarity actions were arranged for occupied houses in Norway and Denmark, and TWP were responsible for some actions with great impact in Malmö, e.g., when the former US Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, visited Malmö to participate in a seminar, and demonstrations forced him to leave through the back door.

It is also probable that many TWP activists took part in actions that they did not wish to put in writing. In an interview with two members of TWP’s inner circle, Lasse and Tim, they admit that this was certainly the case for them, not least because they were very active in hiding refugees who were threatened with deportation.

We had a group that only hid refugees, more or less. But it wasn’t something you could put in writing; it was more word of mouth.³⁹

Other issues also required quiet action:

At that time, there were anti-Shell campaigns, campaigns against Israel, a lot that happened that could never be addressed in meetings.⁴⁰

Thus, it is not entirely fair to assume that cultural activities took all the focus of TWP during their years of activity.

Relation to the Outside World

Where should we place the Winter Palace community politically? According to their own minutes and interviews, they were an anarchist association. But they also had close connections with the syndicalists in Malmö. During TWP’s final year, the association’s later magazine The Phantom of the Palace was published in cooperation with the Malmö Syndicalist Association’s members’ magazine. At the same time, TWP seems to have had a fairly open and welcoming attitude toward newcomers and visitors, as long as they shared their basic values. In 1987, a TWP activist interviewed in Magazin April stated:

We are deeply political, without being either party politicians or -ism preachers. -ism preaching always creates contradictions on unnecessary grounds. You stare blindly at your own -ism and reject everything else with a one-sidedness that makes collaboration on individual issues completely impossible, because you are stuck in discussions about Marx, Bakunin, and what would happen after the revolution. What do you mean “after the revolution”? It’s about the here and now.⁴¹

However, the ideological framework is hardly the only reason why people get involved in an association. One of the interviewed activists, Karin, describes the climate in Malmö’s anarchist/left-wing alternative circles as different to Stockholm, which to her was characterized by a conflict-seeking macho culture: “Those I met in Malmö were much softer and much nicer.” According to Karin, TWP was, during its years of existence, the core of Malmö’s activist/leftist scene.⁴² In this way, the collective identity within TWP was very much dependent on political ideas, as well as its connection to an international social movement, although it may not have been restricted to anarchists.

Lasse and Tim similarly describe the Winter Palace community as heterogeneous; a place where hippies, anarchists, and culture afficionados mingled: “Many of us were clear-cut anarchists, but you definitely shouldn’t think that everyone was.” Rather, they describe two major groupings: one that wished to drop politics altogether and just arrange parties and concerts, and another that wanted to increase TWP’s political activities. “Both groups remained until the end. I think, in retrospect, that one of the great things [about TWP] was that acceptance was so high.”⁴³

Karin agrees, but points to the common direction that still lay at the foundation of the association:

We were libertarian socialists. […] We did not have concerts because we wanted concerts, but to build an environment that was dynamic and exciting and attractive. We wanted to do that so that people would get involved in the basic issues, such as anti-racism …⁴⁴

These common values ​​were shared with several other groups, both within and outside Sweden. There was also extensive contact with these groups, despite the logistical problems of correspondence in the 1980s. As one of the interviewees states, there was only regular post and telephone.⁴⁵ Forming the A-network in Sweden was one way of facilitating this correspondence. But physical encounters were also important. Regular bus trips were arranged to Germany and the Netherlands, and it was also common for activists to travel on their own. Karin shares how the squatters’ movement had an informal system of welcoming each other:

When we traveled around, people never stayed in hostels or anything like that, we always lived in the occupied houses. The whole of Europe was full of occupied houses at that time. It was enough to show up looking like we did, and you had a ticket in.⁴⁶

Due to Malmö’s proximity to Copenhagen, there was also lasting contact with BZ. Several TWP activists were involved in the more notorious conflicts in Copenhagen, where police entered and forcibly removed people from occupied buildings. One activist described the anarchist scene in Malmö, with certain exceptions, as “a pure support troupe for the BZ movement in Copenhagen,”⁴⁷ although this image is not shared by the three activists interviewed here. Nevertheless, BZ did come to Malmö, gave lectures on their methods, and on at least one occasion, acted as extra security at TWP when it was rumored that neo-Nazis would attack the house during a party.⁴⁸

Overall, there was a persistent threat against TWP from the emerging neo-Nazi movement. Lasse and Tim describe several occasions when street fights broke out outside the house and one occasion when someone fired a gun into the building.⁴⁹ Karin also mentions broken windows and spraypainted swastikas. She says that they knew the neo-Nazis were dangerous, and definitely took them seriously, but did not really consider them a constant threat. Lasse, Tim, and Karin describe how TWP had regular contact with the police, who emphasized that they were allowed to use self-defense if needed, and a recurring lecturer/visitor called “Bosse the Policeman” also sympathized with them on political issues.⁵⁰

According to the interviewees, interactions with the police were relatively frictionless, although there were exceptions, e.g., when syndicalists considered themselves to have been attacked by police on their way to TWP after a May Day demonstration.⁵¹ Nevertheless, the general approach for dealing with authorities was to cooperate, perhaps in an attempt to slip under the radar. TWP applied for permits when selling beer, demonstrating, broadcasting on local radio, and so on. The operations were characterized by a wish to be independent; to be left alone so that they could build a free cultural zone. This agenda also meant that they refused to apply for money from the municipality for cultural and other events, despite the fact that they were most likely entitled to it. This point was even made in TWP’s statutes.⁵²

Thus, independence was more important than having to compromise. As a result, TWP had to find other ways of funding rent and operations. In order to maintain reasonable membership fees, they relied mainly on regular support parties, as well as bar sales. Lasse and Tim linger on this issue during the interview.

We made a mistake, and that was that we ended up in this– that you had to sell beer to run the business. We haven’t talked much about that, but it has destroyed a lot of our comrades.⁵³

This point relates to the previously discussed meeting minutes from 1988, and the question of whether it was really a positive thing to attract young people with beer and parties. In a 1989 interview in Brand, just after TWP had closed its operations, Karin expressed relief at some aspects of the activities shutting down:

Parties are fun in themselves, but sometimes we’ve felt like a service organ for Malmö’s worst beer drinkers. When you’ve spent a whole evening mopping up vomit, your view of humanity can become quite cynical… In other words, it felt perfectly OK when we received the eviction letter.⁵⁴

Closing and Aftermath

The letter to which Karin is referring arrived in the winter of 1989 when TWP had operated under its demolition contract for almost two years. Meanwhile, extensive occupations in Copenhagen had become widely known in Sweden, not least in Malmö. It is possible that the authorities feared similar developments in Malmö, prompting the termination of the contract. As mentioned earlier, the contract stated that the association could not make demands for either a replacement venue or financial compensation, when they were asked to move out. However, TWP was also part of a European wave of house occupations, and several members of the association had visited or participated in house occupations in e.g., Copenhagen and Amsterdam. They also had close contact with the Haga occupiers in Gothenburg, and actions had been organized in support of the occupied house Blitz in Oslo.⁵⁵ The possibility of occupation was therefore not entirely off the table. In the 1989 Brand interview, Karin states:

We have seriously discussed the possibility. We can’t say that we’ve put it on the shelf for good. Occupation is a good way to draw attention to housing and urban planning policy […]. But we don’t think it’s a good solution to our problem right now. Apart from Haga, no occupation in Sweden in recent years has been allowed to last longer than 10 hours. Maybe you would succeed in keeping the house if you as a group were really tight, and if defense of the house was well-planned before you stepped in. Even so, we still don’t really think it’s a long-term solution. And that’s exactly what we want to talk about right now: the long term.⁵⁶

In the long term, Karin was referring to the new premises that the group had managed to obtain. The Black Cat café (Svarta katten) opened in the spring of 1989 and was situated in the old working-class neighborhood Möllevångstorget in Malmö. The ground floor functioned as a café, information center, and lecture hall, while printing and photo operations continued from the basement. A sense of relief is noticeable in both past and present interviews regarding the move from the Winter Palace to the Black Cat.⁵⁷

But how could the group afford this? According to several interviews in Brand, as well as Pries’ study, and my own interviews, the association received a large sum of money from the city of Malmö to move peacefully, without attempting to occupy the premises. The sum mentioned varies between 70 000 SEK and 200 000 SEK.⁵⁸ The background, according to Lasse and Tim, was that after a period of ignoring the eviction letter, someone sharp enough simply went and “talked to the bureaucrats,” and that was that.⁵⁹ This is a difficult claim to validate, but in any case, there was suddenly a large amount of money to invest in the new café.

The activities held at the Black Cat were scaled down, and somewhat different from those at TWP, as the premises were much smaller, and did not sell alcohol. The café was also more popular with audiences beyond the anarchist movement, offering a vegetarian restaurant, and several study circles. As before, concerts and lectures also were arranged.⁶⁰ These activities continued until the spring of 1991, when the Black Cat closed its doors.

In the aftermath of TWP and the Black Cat, a debate took place in Brand in 1992–1993. An extended interview with an unknown number of people told the story of a new activist group, that tried to re-start autonomous activism in Malmö. The new group was firm in its criticism of TWP and the Black Cat: they had become a “lifestyle ghetto” that no longer focused on political action, but instead wished to “depoliticize” their activities not to drive people away.⁶¹

The article was not well-received by the old Winter Palace activists, and received replies from both Karin and Tim, with Karin focusing on different ways of working politically:

The Winter Palace/The Black Cat was not a militant organization, and did not intend to be one. Some individuals within TWP/TBC stood for militant expression and acted on that basis. Others had different opinions on how to act politically: Running a printing house; holding women’s and men’s discussion groups; organizing seminars, debates, and demonstrations; broadcasting radio; putting up posters; printing and distributing leaflets; and taking direct action against various imperialist companies, and the burgeoning fascist movement in Malmö. All of these activities were ways in which most people within TWP/TBC chose to be politically active.⁶²

Tim gave the following response to the criticism that TWP was vague in its political orientation:

The Winter Palace was an anarchist association with clearly formulated statutes regarding goals and activities. Political activity was the basis of the association.⁶³

Nearly 30 years later, Tim also states, dryly, that the members of the new activist group were too young during the Winter Palace period to be told about the undisclosed political actions that were happening at the time.⁶⁴

Continuity and Change

The Winter Palace was founded by a group of anarchist-influenced political activists, who met through an anarchist network (“the A-network”), and made further connections through the Joy Train festival in 1986. Several of those who moved to Malmö had many years of experience of political activism elsewhere. Although there had been many left-wing campaigns in Malmö before, TWP contributed extensively to the city’s extra-parliamentary left. Both the Joy Train, with its finale at Gärdet in Stockholm (famous for political and cultural manifestations in the 1970s), and the group’s focus on self-organization, indicate extensive influence from the 1970s left wave. At the same time, TWP acted in the middle of a European trend of autonomous all-activity houses, which could be found in several cities on the continent. The anarchist veterans who, together with younger activists, founded TWP had no problem incorporating these new trends; a self-governing all-activity house, with both progressive culture and progressive politics on the agenda, did not constitute a significant break from previous activism. However, the group did reject the macro-political struggle that had been a big part of the 1970s political scene. Instead, they focused on direct action in the present.

Was the overarching goal then to create an alternative and isolated universe at TWP, with space only for creative projects and new friendships, or was the venue a means of pursuing a more outspoken political agenda? According to both the statutes of the association and interviews with the activists, political activity was meant to stand at the center of TWP. But even during its active years, it was clear that focus was often placed on cultural activities and parties. At their first annual meeting, the community even asked themselves whether they really were the anarchist propaganda center they set out to be, or just “a slightly radical cultural association.”

A few years after TWP, and its successor the Black Cat, had been put to rest, debate arose regarding their legacy. A number of young activists, now claiming the new label of “autonomous,” criticized the inner circle of TWP for exaggerating the importance of the venue as a cultural free zone since it had come at the expense of more explicit political activism. This generational conflict reflects differences in the incorporation of new political strategies from Europe: The new generation was less interested in isolation and flight from society, and more interested in direct action and confrontation. For example, they wanted to escalate the lines of conflict that already existed in TWP, e.g., by providing support for, or participating in, the more violent house occupations in Denmark, the anti-Shell campaign, anti-fascism, and the new feminist movement.⁶⁵ From this perspective, the group who ran TWP (many of whom were close to 30 years of age) could be seen as a bridge between the progressive movements of the 1970s, and the younger, more aggressive, autonomous scene that evolved in the 1990s.

The Purpose of TWP

So, what is the purpose of an anarchist or autonomous association like TWP? Is it to provide a free zone from capitalist society, offering opportunities for culture, education, and self-organization? Or is it to confront the extreme right in the streets, standing up against e.g., racism, sexism, the oil industry, or the meat industry, through various political actions? Many of the Winter Palace activists would probably say, “both.” But it is clear that time and resources were a key issue in terms of the actual outcome. At TWP, a free zone was created for various activities, and during its short and hectic life, an impressive series of concerts, lectures, poetry readings, and parties were arranged—many of which are still remembered in Malmö, even outside left-wing activist circles.

Many TWP members formed lasting friendships, and it is obvious that the interviewed activists are still proud of what they achieved: a free zone for culture and creativity and a non-hierarchical community. However, their purely political activities have left fewer traces behind. To some extent, this is probably due to the fact that many actions were not suitable for print. For example, according to Tim and Lasse, one group worked almost exclusively with hiding refugees. All three interviewees also describe altercations with neo-Nazis, which probably involved the use of force, even by the non-violent TWP. In addition, several TWP members were frequent visitors to, and participants in, the more violent house occupations that took place in Copenhagen during the same period. However, when the eviction letter arrived in 1989, they were not prepared to use the same methods to preserve their own venue. It seemed like the Winter Palace had run its course. In line with Tarrow’s thought of political opportunities structures, the framework for an aggressive occupation of the venue wasn’t in place.

Welfare-State Anarchists

What conclusions can we draw from the history of the Winter Palace association? We can start by drawing a parallel to the long-standing occupation movement in Haga, Gothenburg. According to Thörn, the Haga movement was characterized by increased inclusion in the municipality’s actions. From being questioned and opposed by both the press and the authorities, the occupants eventually found themselves involved in negotiations, and over time, began to receive relatively positive coverage for their sometimes drastic (but mostly non-violent) actions.⁶⁶ This differed from occupant tactics in bigger European cities like Copenhagen, Amsterdam, and West Berlin. TWP employed a similar approach as in Haga. The association generally maintained good relations with police and other authorities, dutifully applying for alcohol permits, broadcasting permits, demonstration permits, and so on. Crucially, they also paid their rent. At the same time, TWP stressed the importance of independence from the state, to the extent that their statutes prohibited them from accepting municipal grants.

If one did not wish to occupy a house, however, rent had to come from somewhere, and TWP concluded that they had limited options, short of throwing support parties, arranging concerts, and selling a lot of beer. In the preserved minutes, as well as recent interviews, there is clear ambivalence about this issue. Tim and Lasse go as far as to say that selling alcohol to preserve their independence was “basically the most important wrongful decision” made by TWP, when they could have received grants from the city instead.⁶⁷ At the same time, TWP practiced various and somehow contradicting ideals, they wanted to be free from the state but applied for permits and had friendly relations to the authorities, they participated in occupations in Copenhagen and considered themselves a part of an international squatting scene but paid rent and finally left the venue without causing trouble (but managed to get some money for new projects out of the negotiations). This multifaceted agenda could in my view, and in line with the local political opportunities structures, be summed up as “welfare-state anarchism.”⁶⁸

Here I would like to underline the connection with older social movements, which had operated in Sweden since the late nineteenth century, as well as government and municipal structures. In the 1980s, there was still a general tendency to support youth movements within sports, politics, and culture. As long as TWP did not cause trouble, and lived up to the formal demands of an association, they would be left mostly to themselves. Notably, however, most of them still considered themselves anarchists. Practicing certain anarchist values was probably in itself considered a protest against both bourgeois politics, and the more repressive elements of the welfare state.

The Winter Palace clearly identified themselves as part of an international squatting trend, but their chosen protest repertoire was also influenced by national political praxis, which may have differed from other countries. Since the Swedish welfare state was founded on bargaining and negotiating, TWP were schooled in this tradition, and quite good at the latter, as evidenced by their successful negotiation for a considerable amount of money at the end of their demolition contract. Additionally, TWP were also well-versed in writing meeting minutes and other documents; they knew how to apply for permits; and they knew how study circles worked (and how to cheat when reporting them). They were, simply put, familiar with the traditions of the Swedish labor movement. However, they were also part of an influential European social trend.⁶⁹ Thus, they could not compromise on independence, but they could cooperate. This ambivalence is important for how I define welfare-state anarchism. Connected to the political opportunity structures mentioned above, TWP used whatever possibilities they had to mobilize effectively. Working inside a consensus-based welfare state system, they tried to navigate the various factors outside the mobilizing group to reach their goals. TWP cared about its relationship with the municipality but did not wish to be dependent upon it. They wanted to be left in peace, free to carry out their activities, without risking the loss of their premises due to misbehavior. When they eventually were evicted, a great deal of effort was put in place to signal that they left on their own initiative. This compromise demonstrates how TWP tried to bridge the gap between traditional Swedish labor politics and the new wave of autonomous activism in Europe.