By Sasha Brandt
How should a nation respond when foreign submarines are suspected of stealthily gliding through its sovereign waters? For the Swedes, the answer came with a flair for the theatrical and a dash of irony.
Instead of launching a military counteroffensive, the Swedish Peace and Arbitration Society (SPAS) devised a decidedly unconventional deterrent: an underwater neon-pink gay sailor. Described as a subsurface sonar system, the installation features the words ‘Welcome to Sweden’ in Russian, and emits the phrase ‘this way if you are gay’ in Morse code. The animated neon sign features a man clad in white underpants and a sailor hat, gyrating his hips as pink hearts flash behind him.
Forget Britain’s Trident, or Israel’s Iron Dome – peace-loving Sweden has come up with a much more innovative, and inclusive, system of defence. Installed in 2015 just off Stockholm’s coast, the Singing Sailor carries a dual mission: to challenge the homophobia of its presumed Russian audience and to gently tweak the nose of geopolitical tensions. The installation, designed by Daniel A. Bruce, is both audacious and tongue-in-cheek. It’s cheerful greeting—‘Welcome to Sweden. Gay since 1944’—is emblazoned in both English and Russian. Meanwhile, a Morse-code signal subtly broadcasts, ‘This way if you are gay,’ an unmistakable salvo in an ongoing cultural and political clash.
The Submarine Tango
The origins of this peculiar underwater activism trace back to escalating tensions in the Baltic region. In 2014, Sweden launched a high-profile military operation to locate a suspected Russian submarine in its waters, an endeavour that cost a hefty 23 million Swedish kronor (£2.2 million) and ended in failure. The incident, widely mocked internationally, highlighted Sweden’s vulnerability and sparked debate over its defence policies.
SPAS, a pacifist organisation, saw an opportunity to redirect this conversation. Anna Ek, SPAS’s president, explained that the Singing Sailor was designed to convey a serious message beneath its humorous exterior. ‘We want to address both the appalling conditions faced by LGBTQ+ individuals in Russia and the need for Sweden to respond to border violations peacefully,’ Ek said.
The reference to 1944 in the sign’s messaging is poignant: it marks the year Sweden decriminalised homosexuality, a progressive step that contrasts sharply with Russia’s increasingly repressive stance on LGBTQ+ rights under Vladimir Putin’s leadership.
‘Make Love, Not War’
For SPAS, the campaign isn’t just a cheeky jab at Russian submariners but a broader critique of militarisation. “Military rearmament hasn’t created stable peace,” Ek noted. “We’ve tried it for years, yet wars and conflicts persist. Some may find the campaign silly, but it’s ultimately about making love, not war.”
Despite SPAS’s idealistic vision, the Swedish government has doubled down on its defence capabilities in recent years. In response to alleged Russian incursions, Sweden allocated an additional $740 million to its defence budget between 2017 and 2020, reinstated conscription, and stationed troops on Gotland, a strategically vital Baltic island.
A Submersible Symbol
Whether seen as a satirical masterpiece or a frivolous distraction, the Singing Sailor captures Sweden’s balancing act between humour and diplomacy. It’s a bold assertion of national identity and LGBTQ+ solidarity, nestled beneath the cold Baltic waves.
The campaign’s enduring message is clear: there are alternatives to the sabre-rattling of geopolitics. And sometimes, those alternatives come clad in nothing but a sailor’s hat and briefs, dancing defiantly in neon pink.
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