To avoid falling into the mine it grew up around, Sweden’s northernmost city is knocking down 3,000 homes, schools and a hospital, and starting a redesigned centre a safe distance away. How do citizens feel about the transformation?

A remote arctic settlement, with a centre dominated by a car park, Kiruna feels like the sort of city that might be forgotten about. The place is eerily, unnervingly quiet; the streets so empty I half expect a tumbleweed to pass by as a punchline. At one point, the gentle silence is broken by a procession of Harley-Davidsons roaring through the town. They don’t seem to stop.

This is Sweden’s northernmost city, situated 90 miles into the Arctic Circle and a 75-mile drive away from the nearest town, Gällivare. Home to about 23,000 people and 11,000 snowmobiles, Kiruna has gained an unlikely fame over the past year, as the world hears of its plans. This remote and rather unprepossessing place is to become the city that gets moved: two miles to the east, to be precise.

Kiruna’s current location hinges on the reason for its very existence, as well as its potential demise: this particular patch of Lapland – usually bright-white snow and reindeer – is, in fact, home to one of the largest iron ore deposits in the world. After the Luossavaara-Kiirunavaara Aktiebolag (LKAB) mining company was established in 1890 and a railway to the area built, the city was founded in 1900. Kiruna grew quickly, and so did the mine.

But now the extent of the mining is threatening the city itself. The expansion of LKAB’s mining activity is leading to ground subsidence that is causing buildings to crack and collapse – and it will only get worse.

They will fail dramatically. They are threatening the very existence of Kiruna Timo Vilgats, of the local Green Party

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Kiruna’s new city centre. Photograph: White architects

In a highly unusual case of urbanism, the whole town centre and its surrounding neighbourhoods are to be demolished – and rebuilt at LKAB’s expense two miles away, leaving behind some unaffected areas which will now become the western edge of the new city. The 3,050 homes that would be affected by the impact of the mining – in addition to shops, offices, schools, the city hall and the hospital – will all be bought by LKAB, knocked down and relocated. The process of moving the city will happen in phases, with the majority estimated to be completed by 2040.

As I arrive, a series of government-organised public events is drawing to a close that celebrate “Kiruna in transformation”. On a sunny, bright Saturday, a stage and tent sit on a vacant piece of land outside of the city. What feels like an underwhelming festival is in fact an opportunity to get people thinking more about their moving town: this particular spot overlooks the future centre of Kiruna. A group of runners arrive, having raced in a special marathon from the existing centre – perhaps to demonstrate how close the new city will be.

It’s not the first time that Kiruna has had to demolish buildings for the mining to increase. “But never on this scale and never the city centre,” Peter Niemi, Kiruna’s municipal chief executive, tells me at the event. If the mining is set to continue, I wonder, is a move of only two miles enough to keep the town safe? “As far as we know,” Eva Ekelund, head of the department of land and development, replies, “but iron is under the new town centre, too.” So could the city move again in another 100 years? “It will be too expensive for LKAB to move the city again,” Peter says simply.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Apartment blocks due to be demolished in Kiruna’s town centre. Photograph: Francesca Perry

Kiruna is not the only place LKAB is having to spend money in order to move neighbourhoods away from a mine. Roughly three miles away from Gällivare, Kiruna’s closest neighbour, is Malmberget. LKAB has another major iron ore mine there, and its impact on the environment is forcing a similar process of relocation. Buildings have been moved in a piecemeal way for 50 years as a result of a huge hole opening up in the centre of the town. But the plan is for Malmberget to be relocated “almost completely” to neighbouring Gällivare, explains Anders Lundgren, development manager for LKAB. Unlike Kiruna, which just has to move down the road, Malmberget and its community will be assimilated into another town entirely.

The first stage of Kiruna’s move will be the building of the new central area: a town hall named “the Crystal”, with 10 surrounding blocks of shops, homes, offices, hotels and public space. A high school, college, hospital, public swimming pool and a cultural centre with a library are also planned. Designed by White architects following a competition, this first phase of the new city centre (which the firm calls “Kiruna 4-ever”) should be ready by 2019.

Kiruna is shrouded in darkness and snow for much of the year. My visit falls in summer, but there is a bizarre atmosphere in a snow town without its snow. Look for a bustling centre of the city, a public space where people come together, and you will be left searching. The town hall sits on a motorway. A hotel overlooks a large car park dotted with vehicles. A parade of shops – seemingly unchanged in the last 20 years – leads you to yet another car park without bumping into a single person. Considering this, it is no wonder that the plans take on a completely new design. “We want to build something that’s more special than what we have today: a more attractive town,” says Peter. “Today the town centre is a parking lot. It won’t be like that in the new city.”

For 15 years, we have been trying to move to the city centre – but now the centre is coming to us Mikael, a local resident

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Houses in the east of Kiruna that will be safe from demolition. Photograph: Francesca Perry

In the meantime, demolition of apartment blocks in Kiruna’s centre has already begun. Twenty one selected buildings – chosen, I am told, in consultation with citizens – are to be retained and moved. “It’s important to have old buildings as part of the new city, too, otherwise it is built quickly and all looks the same,” Eva says. “More buildings could be moved depending on the owners and structural conditions,” she explains. “But many will be destroyed.”

LKAB is currently negotiating with the owners of the buildings that need to be demolished: the company will either pay for the house or replace it with a similar one in the new city. “One person refused to sell their house and is going to court,” Eva says. “But most citizens are very positive.” Nevertheless, it didn’t take long to discover the core group of citizens who oppose the move. As soon as I say goodbye to Peter and Eva, I am whisked aside.

“They will fail dramatically. They are threatening the very existence of Kiruna.” Timo Vilgats and Gunnar Selberg, from the local Green Party and Centre Party respectively, are among those staging a “peaceful protest” at the event to share concerns about the city’s plans. “In 1934, people in Kiruna had a vision that God would send a boat to pick them up, so they sold their houses and waited for the boat,” Timo recounts. “But nothing happened. This will be the same. People have been forced out of their homes. The local government hasn’t asked for guarantees from LKAB that they will be rebuilt, and they’re not providing guarantees themselves.” Mikael, a local teacher I speak to at the event, agrees: “I’m concerned that the iron ore prices are going down, which implies LKAB are running out of money. I’m worried that they will destroy the buildings in the city and not have enough money to rebuild them.”

Their fears are not simply that people’s homes will go unbuilt. There is another concern if they are constructed: affordability. As these homes will be new builds, rents will be more expensive. But LKAB insist they are planning to help make up the difference. “We will give the tenants a lower rent for just over five years when they move to a more expensive apartment,” explains Lundgren.

But Timo and Gunnar aren’t convinced. “In bigger cities, there are alternatives if you can’t afford the higher rents,” they explain. “But here there is no choice. You would have to move away from the city altogether.” Considering Kiruna’s remote location, that would be quite a move – and many of the city’s residents rely on the mine as a primary source of employment.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Kiruna’s church, which will be dismantled and reassembled in a new location. Photograph: Francesca Perry

“Nobody is asking the people about these plans,” Timo and Gunnar complain. But is that really the case? “We asked the citizens which buildings meant something to them,” says Marianne Nordmark, Kiruna council’s information officer. “A couple of years ago we ran a project to ask citizens what they liked about the city today and what they want in the new city,” she adds. What the respondents wanted, apparently, was a new central square with shops and meeting places and a cultural centre. “Citizens felt they don’t really have that today. Right now it’s spread out.”

Sam Keshavarz, a landscape architect from White architects who is working on the project, explains that they have been working with citizens to discuss the public space design. “We want the public to be very involved and make these public spaces their own,” he says.

Mostly, everyone is surprisingly matter-of-fact about the whole thing, as if opposing the plan or finding fault with it simply isn’t necessary or realistic. What’s more, not everyone has to move. “We are lucky we are not affected, we don’t have to move because we live on the eastern edge of the city,” Mikael explains. “For 15 years, we have been trying to move to the city centre – but now the centre is coming to us!”

“There might be some concerns, but the mine has to keep operating, so the city needs to move” Annette, a local resident, says brightly. This, it seems, is the general mood of the town’s residents. The mine defines, dominates and sustains the city: what the mine wants, the mine gets. The continuance of its operations is vital both to the local economy as well as community.

If the mine needs the town to move, then that’s just what will need to happen Kostas

Facebook Twitter Pinterest The view of the mine in the distance from the city centre. Photograph: Francesca Perry

“Most know that the town relies on the mine, so if the mine needs the town to move, then that’s just what will need to happen,” says Kostas, who works in Kiruna’s tourist office. “Other people have concerns, but they’re not trying to stop it.” Those working in Kiruna’s local tourism industry, Kostas explains, are largely pleased about the move as it gives the city an opportunity to shape a new identity that isn’t solely based on the mine.

But what of those who have to move? The town’s church is one of the 21 buildings that has been selected to be saved and relocated to the new city centre – understandably, considering it was voted the country’s most beautiful public building by the Swedish people. Due to its design, the church will need to be carefully deconstructed, wooden beam by wooden beam, and painstakingly reassembled in its new location.

The church sits atop a hill, overlooking the mine across the valley, as if competing for prominence – a battle it seems to have lost. But Lars Jarlemyr, the minister of the church I speak with on a Sunday afternoon, is not fazed by the building’s relocation. “People aren’t really worried now. And the building will stay here for another 10 years,” he says. I wonder whether this is the crux of the lack of concerns: that the move itself still feels far enough in the future to be quite abstract.

Radioactive city: how Johannesburg’s townships are paying for its mining past Read more

Lars is the only person I meet whose house has to be demolished. He concedes that the newly built apartment block he will move to will be more expensive to live in. “I’m not worried but there are people who are concerned about where they’re going to live.” What troubles Lars is not the buildings – they can easily move, he says. It is the social networks and relationships in the town that he hopes will not be affected by the city’s changes.

As I am driven around the city by retired resident Reinhold Brynefall and his wife, places affected by the move are pointed out to me. “Behind these houses,” Reinhold says, gesturing to a row of colourfully painted wooden homes, “that’s where the line of demolition goes up to.” The people living on one road are safe, their neighbours on the parallel street are not. It strikes me that the buildings may not be the only things lost. Will a division be created? “I think there will be two cities,” a check out girl at a supermarket in the city centre tells me. “The old city and the new city. So that might be a problem.”



Kiruna is a town whose lifeblood is the mine it grew up around. Clearly, there are hopes that this massive transformation will draw people together rather than push them apart. “We have lived side by side for 125 years,” Peter says at the event, “so when we move, we move together.”

Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook and join the discussion