In October 2020, the UK immigration minister stood in parliament to reassure campaigners worried about EU citizens who didn't realize they had to ask the Home Office for permission to stay post-Brexit. Citing the example of a foster child who might not discover their EU citizenship until their first job application, Conservative Kevin Foster promised "a generous approach as to what reasonable grounds [for failing to apply] were." In other words, the UK/EU Brexit deal was meant to protect those who'd lawfully exercised freedom of movement - not to turf them out because Britain decided to leave the club.
The Home Office isn't perfect, and campaigners regularly ding it for stumbles in implementing the EU citizens chapter of the withdrawal agreement. But at least "reasonable grounds" have been spelled out in parliament, giving challengers some legal ammunition.
Thousands of miles away in Sweden, however, post-Brexit rights are being quietly shredded, with a suspiciously high number of removal orders issued against law-abiding British citizens - some at the most vulnerable moments of their lives.
Take Horace Mason, a 74-year-old Brit who's called Sweden home for 25 years. This week, he faces deportation despite vascular dementia, parkinsonism, and being so incapacitated he requires full-time care. A Swedish court rejected his plea to stay on family ties, ruling that "immigration interests trumped human rights." The court's reasoning: "Upon balancing the state's interest in regulated immigration against what has emerged regarding Horace Mason's private life and his adaptation to Sweden, the migration court concludes, on balance, that his deportation appears proportionate." Proportionate, indeed - if you think deporting a man who can't remember his own name is a reasonable immigration policy.
Then there's Joyce Thomas, a 78-year-old widow who's been in Sweden for 21 years. She also lost her appeal this week against a migration agency decision ordering her to leave within four weeks.
"It would be difficult to find anyone who would argue that what is happening to Mrs Thomas and others in Sweden was an intended outcome of the [EU-UK] withdrawal agreement," said David Milstead of the campaign group British in Sweden. He knows people who, upon receiving removal orders, simply left - "too embarrassed" to fight the system.
The big question: Did the Conservative party fail British citizens during Brexit negotiations by not spotting the flaws in the "constitutive" system adopted by 13 countries (including the UK), which required EU citizens to formally apply to stay? Spain and others chose a "declaratory" system, where mere registration sufficed. Did the UK botch communicating this to the estimated 1 million Britons in the EU? Or has the European Commission failed to enforce the withdrawal agreement in practice?
"Problems will inevitably emerge when a new treaty is put into practice," Milstead said. "However, the UK, the EU and Sweden must act to address them. Words and expressions of concern won't cut it."
Part of the problem is a lack of political will in Sweden. Swedish politicians have a convenient excuse: they're legally barred from interfering in decisions by the Migrationsverket, the Swedish migration agency. The UK government has raised the issue repeatedly, but years after the first cases emerged, nothing has changed.
Two years ago, Kathleen Poole, who had Alzheimer's, faced deportation from a dementia care home because she lacked up-to-date bank statements and a passport. Her case was paused - long enough for her to die before it could be acted upon.
A UK government source expressed "concern that Sweden is taking a considerably stricter approach to this requirement than other member states," adding that "in practice individuals are not likely to have their reasonable grounds accepted."
The latest stats (2024) show only about 14,000 applications to stay post-Brexit in Sweden. Of those, 27.5% were refused - three times higher than any other member state, and a stark contrast to the EU average of 3%-4%.
Thomas, like many others in touch with British in Sweden, insists she had "reasonable grounds" for her late application. She and her late husband were told they didn't need to do anything - a refrain heard over and over from Britons.
Felix Andler, a Swedish neurologist and family friend, recalled speaking to Thomas's husband before 2020: "I remember talking to Gwynne and asking him, is there anything you have to do? And he said, 'No, I checked it and we are good,' so I take it he looked it up or contacted someone at the British Foreign Office."
Joyce herself says that even if the government communicated the need to apply, they didn't do it well enough. "They have our ID cards, our email addresses and contact us with other important information, why not something as critical as this? It is mind-blowing."
The Swedish migration authority's spokesperson offered a stone-cold response: "Simply stating that the person was unaware of the requirement to apply is not, in itself, considered a sufficient explanation."
In 2022, similar stories emerged from Denmark - Britons ordered to leave for being three weeks late, or even four days late, on their applications. The Danish government acknowledged communications failures and changed the law to give Britons another shot at residency. Sweden, it seems, hasn't gotten the memo.