The Sweden Democrats, who first entered Parliament in 2010, remain a small party compared with nationalist parties in France, Hungary and Austria. But their very emergence undermines Sweden’s cherished identity as a global beacon of tolerance and social progressivism that have kept the far right at bay. Desperate to maintain their society’s openness and reputation, a broad field of teachers, public intellectuals, journalists, activists and politicians mobilized against the party during the election campaign. While many of these efforts were courageous and civil, others stooped to pseudo-intellectual and anti-democratic attacks, as well as violence; Swedes now face the challenge of upholding liberal democratic standards while dealing with a reviled political minority. While other anti-immigrant parties in Western Europe trace their roots to longstanding right-wing populist movements, the Sweden Democrats emerged only in the 1980s, from neo-Nazi activist groups that initially operated in tandem with a fierce domestic skinhead subculture. More recently, the party has established dress codes, tempered its ideology and undergone two turnovers in leadership. But it still attracts Swedes who have anti-Semitic and racist sympathies, even though a more moderate and increasingly vigilant party establishment threatens to expel them. In short, party reform has moved slowly, and the group’s persistent association with extremism has prevented it from realizing its potential.

Indeed, there is fodder on which it can grow. A nationwide opinion poll conducted last May suggests that 44 percent of Swedes want cuts in immigration, a sentiment most likely traceable to concerns that the influx of foreigners will overwhelm their welfare system. The country of 9.5 million expects more than 80,000 refugees this year, all but guaranteeing that Sweden will continue to have more asylum seekers per capita than any other country. Of the eight parties represented in Parliament, only the Sweden Democrats advocate reversing this trend; their campaign proposals included a 90 percent cut in grants of asylum.

If rising nativism has tarnished the country’s reputation for progressive values, so, too, has the reception given to the Sweden Democrats. A 2012 police study found that nearly half of the party’s politicians reported threats or assaults in 2011. Some had been beaten with iron bars, some had bombs detonated in their cars, and some had cans of tear gas emptied into their mouths in front of their children. Mainstream responses to such behavior have been weak. In speeches, interviews and op-eds, politicians and commentators have either dismissed the party’s allegations as disingenuous attempts to paint themselves as victims or, worse, offered veiled endorsements of the attacks. When asked to comment on the assault on a young Sweden Democrat politician, the departing prime minister, Fredrik Reinfeldt, answered with a cliché equivocation: “I condemn all forms of violence and harassment, but ...” and suggested that those who supported “a hateful way of looking at relationships” should expect “things like this.”

Intimidation of the party and its supporters has taken other forms as well. Last December, an organization of former militant leftists known as the Research Group collaborated with the prominent evening newspaper Expressen to discover and publish personal details about those writing under pseudonyms in online anti-immigrant chat forums. The list of those de-anonymized included private citizens, some of whom were later cornered by television crews in the doorways to their homes. In addition to these incidents, in the recent campaign the Sweden Democrats were denied resources and opportunities customarily offered to political parties. Some public transportation bureaus refused to let them place campaign posters in their buses. A national outdoor park society barred them from holding events on its grounds. Major independent newspapers refused to print their ads. Many organizations excluded them from small-scale public debates.

These actions, though legal, effectively shut the party off from important arenas of political discourse — giving the election a tinge of illegitimacy that was previously unthinkable for Swedes.