KATIE HOPKINS reports from Sweden, the Scandi-lib paradise where terrified women have vanished from the streets and a conspiracy of silence and self-censorship on immigration buries the truth.
I didn’t come to Sweden for the riots. Or because of Trump. In fact, I was supposed to be here in December — before airline strikes stood in my way.
I came because I was asked. Repeatedly.
Swedish women reaching out by email, by letter, to quietly show me what has become of their country.
Dads writing that they were worried for their daughters, tweeting that Sweden is not the place people imagine it to be, that young girls are scared to go out at night.
A news feed filled with reports of the assault of Sweden’s young women, some inexplicably streamed live on Facebook by the gang as they attacked.
When Trump turned the world’s attention to Sweden by clumsily referring to the effects of mass-migration on what used to be seen as the most liberal country on earth, the country was ready and waiting to blow.
He provided the touch-paper to the explosive mixture of thousands of bored young migrants who were born into fighting and have brought the battle with them.
Fuelled by the oxygen of publicity, they performed here last week in Rinkeby, nicknamed ‘Little Mogadishu’: looting, rioting, burning out cars.
While liberals countered with accusations of fake news, the right highlighted the chaos caused in this town where 90% of Rinkeby residents are foreign.
Assault statistics were shared and widely interpreted: either Stockholm was ‘the rape capital of Europe’, or the increase in sexual assaults was a mere statistical anomaly and look, if you turn the graph on its side you will see the numbers are actually falling.
But in a world of polarized news, there still have to be some truths waiting to be told. Even if they are only observations from a single white female with no security and suffering protestor fatigue.
And I’ve found it all here in plain sight for anyone to see or hear – if they’re listening. If they can stop taking pictures of burned out cars or reinterpreting rape statistics to suit their agenda.
One young girl of 27 — let’s call her Lucy— is now terrified of going out alone. She lives near a busy shopping centre which draws migrants from no-go zones, and dreads her walk to work and home.
Under the bridge near her flat a gang of men gathers. All day and night. They have easy access to her up a stairwell. Like little billy goat gruff, she runs across, carrying her safety spray. Scared.