Zelenskyy is sweating as he waits for bags full of Swedish kronor, while there is no government in sight.
Stockholm, October 20, 2026 — In a dazzling display of Swedish consensus culture gone spectacularly wrong, the nation’s political parties have spent the past five weeks perfecting the ancient Nordic art of agreeing that they cannot possibly agree on anything. Following the September 13 election—where the centre-left scraped together a heroic 176 seats to the right’s 173—Sweden has entered a new golden age of caretaker government, empty ministerial chairs, and the thrilling possibility of a snap election that almost nobody wants but which would at least give everyone something to do.
Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson of the Moderates graciously resigned once the final votes were counted, leaving a caretaker administration to handle “urgent matters.” Urgent matters apparently include continuing to ship support to Ukraine (the latest civilian package of 522 million kronor was announced just days ago, bringing the total since 2022 to roughly 158 billion), while the domestic budget remains a theoretical concept floating somewhere above the Riksdag. Meanwhile, Volodymyr Zelenskyy is reportedly checking his phone with increasing frequency, hoping the next batch of kronor arrives before the winter truly sets in. One imagines him standing outside the parliament building with an open suitcase, politely declining offers of fika until the numbers clear.
The drama reached peak Swedish politeness on October 15, when the Riksdag rejected Magdalena Andersson’s bid to become prime minister by a resounding 248–99. Only her own Social Democrats voted yes. The Left Party wants cabinet seats and a billionaire tax. The Centre Party, led by relative newcomer Elisabeth Thand Ringqvist (the fourth leader in three years), wants a “middle” government that excludes both the Left and the Sweden Democrats. The Greens have opinions about nuclear power. The Moderates and Christian Democrats are waiting their turn. The Sweden Democrats are, as always, ready to be invited or excluded depending on the hour. Speaker Andreas Norlén has now given Thand Ringqvist until October 26 to explore whether a centrist arrangement is possible. She has stated her ambition is to solve the government question, not to become prime minister herself—a refreshingly modest stance that has so far solved nothing.
Negotiations continue in the traditional manner: polite meetings, firm red lines, and the quiet understanding that a 134-day government-formation marathon like the one after 2018 remains a viable option. In the meantime, important election promises on unemployment, welfare in rural areas, climate measures, and healthcare remain on hold. The budget process is stalled, meaning the next government—if one ever appears—may have to operate under a transitional or even an opponent’s proposal. Swedes can take comfort in knowing that while domestic priorities await consensus, international solidarity does not.
Outside observers note that Sweden’s multi-party system is working exactly as designed: no one gets everything they want, and occasionally no one gets a government. Zelenskyy, for his part, continues to wait. The suitcases of kronor will almost certainly arrive eventually—Sweden has been remarkably consistent on that front—even if the domestic political process moves at the speed of a carefully worded press conference.
Until then, the Riksdag remains a masterclass in process over outcome. The parties will keep talking. The Speaker will keep assigning exploratory mandates. And somewhere in Stockholm, a budget document sits untouched while the rest of the world wonders how long a country can run on caretaker mode and good intentions
