Source and translation note
This page contains a full English translation of the Swedish article published by Aftonbladet (Opinion/Editorial).
Original title: Barnens hunger ingår i förskolans affärsmodell
Author: Zina Al-Dewani
Source: Aftonbladet, Opinion/Editorial
Original article: [https://www.aftonbladet.se/ledare/a/4oVlJ6/barnens-hunger-ingar-i-forskolans-affarsmodell]
No content has been added to the author’s text. Any differences are limited to what is necessary for translation.
Children’s hunger is part of the preschool business model
Former Swedish L-party (Liberalerna) politician becomes a millionaire by serving water and crispbread
Do you remember Hälsans förskola? Google ‘knäckebröd’ and ‘friskola’ and your memory will likely be jogged. You know, the ones who gave the children crispbread and water to maximise profits and, along the way, left the kids with nutritional deficiencies. Following the Uppdrag granskning exposé, they changed their name to Tellusgruppen. But the name is the only thing that seems to have changed.
This week, Dagens ETC revealed what it is really like in Sweden’s preschools.
‘We were working with small children. Many of them couldn’t speak yet. They pointed at their stomachs and at the food. They wanted more food, but there was no more,’ preschool teacher Leila told Dagens ETC.
There is constant penny-pinching across the organisation. But it is not because the owners are short of money. The couple, Bijan Fahimi and Narges Moshiri, are the owners and founders of Tellusgruppen. They began their business in Rinkeby, which grew into a large group with 27 preschools, several compulsory schools and a nanny service.
Narges Moshiri runs the business. She puts padlocks on the fridge and freezer and hides away the coffee machine to stop staff from stealing food or drinking too much coffee, one employee told Dagens ETC. Another employee said that Moshiri hardly lets anyone take time off sick because she does not want to pay sick pay.
In Rinkeby, the cook is ordered by management to reduce portion sizes. For their afternoon snack, they get a piece of pear and a little yoghurt. For the owners, it means million-pound profits.
The couple own a flat in Stockholm city centre, valued at 22 million kronor. They are also renovating their summer house in southern France. Meanwhile, they make money by penny-pinching in deprived areas.
In Rinkeby, they pinched pennies to such an extent that many parents chose to move their children to other preschools. Moshiri then appointed herself principal. She gives staff a thousand kronor in cash, ‘straight into their pockets’, if they go out and find new ‘customers’. They are urged to tell parents that the quality of the council-run preschools is abysmal.
When the Swedish Schools Inspectorate (Skolinspektionen) comes knocking, Moshiri hand-picks who will speak to the authorities and what they will say. Loyalty pays. That is how they get away with top marks in the inspection.
Such businesses would never exist if there were a ban on profit-making in schools. So what is stopping our politicians?
Fahimi is the CEO of Tellusgruppen and a former member of the Swedish parliament for the Liberals. That is not the only connection to the party. When Lotta Edholm became Minister for Schools last autumn, she sat on the group’s board. Furthermore, she owned shares worth 100,000 kronor, which rose in value when she became a minister. She then sold them.
This is not the only link between profits in the welfare sector and our politicians, but it clearly answers the question of why this is still legal in Sweden. A country where preschools are allowed to choose profit over filling children’s bellies.