https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9513-0497
Abstract
Using a broad range of materials (media and interviews), we analyse the development of three green megaprojects in the two northernmost regions of Sweden. We find support for the presence of a strong ideological fantasy tied to a few “green heroes”, supporting the notion that the investments are the ultimate answer not only to climate crisis but also to the territory’s perceived left-behindness. The symbolic construction of the fantasy also contributes to the production of killjoys through marginalizing and feminizing opposition to the megaprojects. Our analysis thereby points to the importance of a feminist intervention and critique of the neoliberal ideology that frames green megaprojects.
Introduction
It is widely acknowledged that the transformation of economies and societies, coupled with the green transition, produces both regional winners and losers, potentially exacerbating existing processes of uneven development (e.g., Rodríguez-Pose and Bartalucci, 2024). Interestingly, even locations that attract investments may not experience significant welfare effects and can become trapped in stagnant development trajectories (Diemer et al., 2022). Regional scholars, therefore, emphasize the need to consider both green and just perspectives on regional change (Eadson and van Veelen, 2023), especially in light of the emergence of so-called green megaprojects across Europe aimed at developing net-zero infrastructures. These projects, including battery factories, green steel production and hydrogen facilities, stand out due to their scale, rapid pace, technological complexity, and transformative potential. Consequently, they acquire broader symbolic meanings (Flyvbjerg, 2014).
However, local policymakers and civil servants face challenges in navigating the critical frontiers associated with these megaprojects. The symbolic weight attached to them can hinder their being fully embraced, and dissenting voices may be silenced (Sovacool et al., 2023). Unlike other megaprojects, green initiatives are typically driven by private investments, raising questions about their intended beneficiaries and how these megaprojects may be scrutinized.
This paper aims to analyse the meaning-making processes surrounding green megaprojects and explore how they are resisted and reworked, but also defended, through the thwarting, dismissal, or exclusion of critical voices. Drawing on media sources and insights from key informants (including policymakers, civil servants and debaters), we focus on three pioneering municipalities in the northernmost regions of Sweden (Norrbotten and Västerbotten): Gällivare (a mining town where a consortium of state-controlled companies are investing approximately 40 billion euros to produce fossil-free sponge iron for green steel production, creating around 2000 jobs); Skellefteå (home to Northvolt, a pioneer in battery production and recycling, with an investment of approximately 6 billion euros and around 3500 jobs); and Boden (the site of a green field steel mill, H2 Green Steel or H2GS (in September 2024 renamed to Stegra), estimated at 7.5 billion euros and also providing around 3500 jobs).
Although there is no direct link between investments and job creation in peripheral areas (e.g., Adjei et al., 2023; Halseth and Ryser, 2017), it is difficult to underestimate the symbolic value of these projects among both local and national policymakers, as this is materializing in a territory characterized by over four decades of stable decline (Eriksson and Hane-Weijman, 2017). Locally, these projects are seen as opportunities to embark on a new development path, while nationally they are described as a way to advance Sweden’s global environmental leadership and achieve the goal of becoming the first fossil-free welfare state (de Leeuw and Vogl, 2024). The high expectations are further reinforced by media portrayals of the venture capitalists and entrepreneurs behind these megaprojects as “heroes of the environment” dedicated to “saving the world” (SVT, 2023). Despite the obvious risks and challenges associated with megaprojects (Ciplet and Harrison, 2019), these symbolic constructs offer hope when it comes to addressing both climate change and uneven regional development.
In response to recent calls for stronger feminist politics and practices in regional development (Ormerod, 2023), we use as a starting point the concept of “ideological fantasy” (Glynos, 2001; Žižek, 1998). Our focus is on the ideologically invested aspects of meaning-making associated with “green megaprojects”. Proceeding from the assumption that such constructions of meaning inform practices, we analyse this in relation to the position of the “feminist killjoy” (Ahmed, 2010) that may get in the way of what is viewed as a necessity for both the climate and Sweden’s continued welfare, as well as for local development. We thereby show not only how voices are silenced but also approaches to resistance and reworking by unveiling the intrinsically gendered aspects of megaprojects (Parker, 2017). This, in turn, opens some space for alternative regional futures by placing questions of social reproduction and uneven development at the centre, rather than regarding them as potential side-effects of the megaprojects (Bhattacharya, 2017; Fainstein, 2014).
Theoretical Points of Departure
The ideological fantasy of “green megaprojects” intersects with several related concerns, prominently including economic, environmental, and spatial considerations. To address the spatial dimensions embedded in this dominant fantasy, we turn to economic geographers who challenge established discourses on regional development and “green growth”. One such concept is that of “left-behind places” (Fiorentino et al., 2024; Pike et al., 2023; Rodríguez-Pose, 2018). This analogy describes the uneven geographies perpetuated by decades of neoclassical theories and policies emphasizing “competitive advantage” and “economic efficiency” (Martin, 2021).
Understanding places as shaped by socio-spatial relations and narratives (Massey, 2005), we recognize “left-behind places” as both material realities and discursive constructs—not an absolute or irreversible state (Pike et al., 2023). However, as argued by Rodríguez-Pose (2018), decay, limited opportunities and austerity measures can fuel discontent and populism as a reaction against the status quo. Rodríguez-Pose and Bartalucci (2024) further highlight the risk of “green” discontent if regions and nations fail to achieve a just green transformation, risking exacerbating existing uneven development processes. Previous research, for example, illustrates how the burden of green infrastructure and extraction disproportionately affects poor and marginalized “left-behind regions”, leading to dissatisfaction with green policies and goals (Harlan, 2021) even when local communities are aligned with the urgency of green investments (Mitsch and McNeil, 2022).
Moreover, the “left-behindness” of places and people may position policy actors as prone to taking higher risks and perceiving fewer opportunities and alternative futures. Consequently, any promise of a new development path is often seen as a local necessity, regardless of the associated risks (Diemer et al., 2022; Rodríguez-Pose et al., 2024). For example, lagging regions may agree to establish megaprojects, even when these projects are challenging to oversee, exceed budgets and jeopardize public funds (e.g., Lauermann, 2022). This may then lead to regional discontent if “trapped” regions cannot embark on a new development path despite large public investments and efforts (Diemer et al., 2022).
The distribution of risks and rewards becomes particularly evident in the context of “green” megaprojects. These projects are typically driven by private investors who promise solutions to the climate crisis and an infusion of (foreign) capital (Kronvall, 2023). These predominantly male private investors are often hailed as “environmental heroes” and occupy a central position in the public discourse. According to Hultman (2013), they embody an ecomodern masculinity that pledges economic growth, new technologies, market-based solutions, and environmentally friendly consumption—all without relying on public investments.
Our perspective on the relationship between uneven regional development and “green megaprojects” is influenced by a substantial body of feminist and decolonial research. This research suggests that capitalism and its practices and outcomes are not gender-neutral but rather embody highly masculinized ideals of growth and development (see Massey, 2005; McDowell, 2010; Ormerod, 2023).
As discussed by Zhou et al. (2023), the expanding research on the geography of “green industries”, “green transitions”, and “sustainability transitions” has yet to fully expose and question spatial power relations within capitalism. In addition, it remains essential to unveil that “green industries” and “green promises” may not be as well-intentioned as they initially appear (Angelo, 2021; Ciplet and Harrison, 2019; Rice et al., 2020).
Feminist and decolonial perspectives challenge ecomodernism’s growth-centric and technological solutionist approach. Instead, they emphasize environmental justice and just sustainability, centring on resource redistribution and human-nature relations (Agyeman, 2008; de Leeuw, 2024). Feminist scholars propose envisioning a collective life in which human creativity is not commodified, prioritizing social reproduction over wage labour (e.g., Bhattacharya, 2017; Cameron and Gibson-Graham, 2003; Gibson-Graham, 2008; Hanson and Blake, 2009; Parker, 2017). This perspective encourages us to think beyond symbolic sectors and places, revaluing essential goods and services such as housing and healthcare as central to the “economy” (MacKinnon et al., 2022).
Consistently, this extensive body of literature demonstrates how neoliberal growth generates upheavals and inequalities while reproducing uneven regional development through the imperatives of globalization. It also sheds light on how surplus value is extracted and who bears the costs of social reproduction (e.g., Jarosz and Lawson, 2002; Katz, 2004; Mitchell et al., 2003; Massey, 2005).
Nevertheless, as argued by Ormerod (2023), the politics and practices of regional development continue to be “man-shaped”, focussing on new growth paths while considering social reproduction and welfare as (potential) side-effects. Rather than solely reintroducing spatial justice to the research agenda (Martin, 2021; Ormerod, 2023), advocates for feminist perspectives on regional inequalities to reconceptualise whom development is for. These perspectives offer new ways of understanding regional development and identifying solutions to inequalities perpetuated by masculine views of growth and development; that is, how green megaprojects can become more just, equitable and sustainable.
The neglect of gendered perspectives and the inherent “white” and masculine lens on development and the economy (Adjei and Morales, 2024; Pugh, 2018) contribute to the reproduction of current competitive policies and infrastructures. In addition, masculine notions of leadership and power often centre on individual identities (Eadson et al., 2023). For instance, over a decade ago McDowell (2010, 653) highlighted the trader as an important icon, “embodied as the quintessence of masculine energy rather than rationality”.
Corporate storytelling, whether conveyed through a coherent narrative or multiple self-representations, shapes corporations’ personalities and characteristics, partly derived from individuals. However, this emphasis on individual narratives may obscure key organizational issues, such as responsibility for social, ethical or environmental concerns (Rehnberg, 2014).
The associated rhetoric of progressive environmental investments, supposedly benefiting everyone, constructs a symbolic narrative of great magnitude. To explore its constitution and effects, we invoke the concept of “ideological fantasy” (Glynos, 2021; Žižek, 1998). This concept refers to shared ideas about what “green megaprojects” signify and how these projects will alter existing development paths. Such ideas provide structure and closure, masking the inherent and radical contingency of social relations by concealing fissures and contradictions.
The logic of fantasy offers explanations for why specific practices—such as embracing “green investments”—are deemed necessary. It also provides enjoyable identifications for those who align with it, promising outcomes beyond the immediate goal (de Leeuw, 2024). However, as outlined by Berlant (2011), aligning with ideological fantasies can lead to “cruel optimism”, in which promises become either impossible fantasies or toxic realities.
Different actors attribute varying symbolic meanings to megaprojects (Flyvbjerg, 2014), resulting in multiple, partly opposing fantasies about green megaprojects and their consequences. The dominant narrative surrounding green megaprojects can be understood as an ideological fantasy. In this context, several competing fantasies exist, each shaping social outcomes. While investors naturally perceive new growth opportunities, local stakeholders envision a development path linked to employment and welfare.
Our focus is not to debunk such fantasies but to understand how they shape a specific “valued future” (Anderson, 2023) and how one imagined path towards that future is defended. Despite their contingency and openness to change, successful fantasies remain invisible and taken for granted, making them difficult to expose. When ideological fantasies are indeed exposed their grip weakens, revealing vulnerability to external criticism (Griggs and Howarth, 2013).
In our exploration of criticism and resistance regarding the masculinist valorization of green industrial fantasies and the promises they may bring (cf. Eadson et al., 2023), we draw on Ahmed’s concept of the “feminist killjoy”. According to Ahmed (2010), the feminist killjoy disrupts dominant fantasies by exposing hidden injustices and biases that “get hidden, displaced, or negated under signs of joy” (Ahmed, 2010, 65). The killjoy is characterized by a tendency to bring a bad atmosphere to the dinner table. Consequently, it becomes crucial for any ideological fantasy, and for those who align with it, to dismiss or silence killjoys in order to maintain the grip of the fantasy and refute alternative formulations. We will explore instances in which potential feminist killjoy subjects were constituted and thwarted, examining the articulatory practices through which such maneuvres occurred.
As killjoy practices can take various forms, we operationalize the analysis by considering modes of agency and resistance along a continuum. As discussed by geographers like Cindi Katz (2004), “resilience” applies to individuals who, often unaware of structural inequalities, aim to survive unjust conditions simply by insisting on maintaining their livelihood or right to place. “Reworking” involves strategies that seek to improve a situation by challenging hegemonic powers without necessarily addressing broader exploitative systems. In contrast, “resistance” actively seeks to alter oppressive structures for the benefit of a collective, aiming for substantive changes in an unjust system. This nuanced perspective sheds light on practices that either sustain or challenge fantasies surrounding megaprojects, depending on the subject position.
In summary, we propose that the fantasy of “green megaprojects” is constructed along an axis of converging views on ecomodernism, regional development (de Leeuw and Vogl, 2024; Ormerod, 2023), and a specific masculine form of leader normativity (Martinsson, 2006; Hultman, 2013). This focus on single “hero” positions, promising enjoyment for everyone, aligns with the endemic celebration of heroes in neoliberal capitalism. As green megaprojects offer market-led solutions to climate change and serve as nuclei for local and national development (Kronvall, 2023), the combination of environmental pursuit and economic and masculine capital is likely to perpetuate ecomodernist fantasies while also silencing alternative voices and futures.
Methodology
Pervasive ideologies are not only ingrained in instances of rule but also need to be accepted as relevant in a broader sense. To showcase the impact of the studied fantasy of green megaprojects, we draw on a broad range of materials: representations in the media; interviews with activists, debaters, local politicians and stakeholders; and marketing materials from investment companies and company leaders. These analysed representations were made by different actors across various arenas and discursive fields. We selected them based on their intertextuality—whether they contributed to, resisted or reworked the construction of the fantasy.
The media material was collected from major Swedish national daily newspapers (Dagens Nyheter and Svenska Dagbladet), tabloids (Aftonbladet and Expressen) and three major local newspapers in northern Sweden (Norran, Norrländska Socialdemokraten (NSD) and Västerbottens-Kuriren (VK)). In addition, we included the most influential financial daily magazine (Dagens Industri) and a weekly newspaper focussing on public sector issues (Dagens Samhälle). Using keywords such as “green transition” and the names of the specific companies, we retrieved 2029 results from the Retriever database for the period 2017–2023. From this pool, we selected three news items per newspaper per year (totalling 189 texts) for further study. The articles were categorized into 5 related narratives: “Turning point for northern Sweden”; “The actors behind the megaprojects”; “Obstacles for a green transition”; “Narratives of critics” and “Negotiations about the future for places in northern Sweden”. Although they do not provide exhaustive coverage of all written content about mega investments in northern Sweden during the specified years, the quotes from various newspapers illustrate dominant ways in which the fantasy of green megaprojects was portrayed in the news media.
In addition, we conducted 16 semi-structured interviews with local policymakers, civil servants, activists, debaters and activists across Sweden. The interviews thematically revolved around their experiences and the absence of or possible resistance to certain processes. However, interviewees were encouraged to discuss other important aspects as well (Patton, 2002). All interviews were recorded and transcribed verbatim.
The marketing materials and self-presentations of investors and company CEOs were also included. This encompassed statements quoted in the media. A specific category emerged from the famous radio show Sommar i P1 (Summer on P1), which has been broadcast in Sweden every summer since 1959. On this show, well-known Swedish-speaking individuals freely discuss themselves and play music for an hour and a half. These radio shows have a wide reach and are listened to by approximately 35% of the Swedish population (Sveriges Radio, 2014). Northvolt CEO Peter Carlsson hosted a summer talk in 2021, and investor Harald Mix in 2023. We also draw on a TV documentary produced by Swedish public service television in 2021, titled Den gröna kapplöpningen (The green race), in which the investments and the actors behind them were portrayed as part of the solution to the increasingly acute global climate crisis.
Following our theoretical approach, the material—interviews, media reports and self-presentations—comprises a series of potentially disparate articulations through which meaning around the investments is constituted. We explored the material in order to understand how dominant narratives were constructed intertextually and how subject positions were accounted for or thwarted. Notable patterns across materials were used to identify both dominant and opposing narratives and the ways they complemented or articulated different elements.
In the following sections, we will first describe how the fantasy of green megaprojects, particularly its associated heroes, is constructed and reproduced in the media material. Then, we will analyse the interview material to describe how the fantasy is resisted, reworked and defended through the thwarting, dismissal or exclusion of critical voices.
Places and megaprojects in northern Sweden
In this study, the 3 cases exemplify multifaceted processes of uneven development. The 2 northernmost counties in Sweden (Norrbotten and Västerbotten) experienced significant population growth in the first half of the twentieth century due to abundant natural resources (minerals, hydropower, etc.), as exemplified by the steeper curves there compared to the rest of Sweden in Figure 1. The territory was called “the land of the future” due to its pioneering the industrialization and modernization of Sweden (Sörlin 2023). However, as in many resource-rich peripheries (e.g. MacKinnon, 2013; Halseth and Ryser, 2017), a colonial approach to resource exploitation—prioritizing macro-economic efficiency over local societal and environmental goals—locked the territory into resource dependence, long-term structural challenges and persistent images of decline during the industrialization that took place from the 1960s and onwards (Eriksson, 2010). While the natural resources continued providing revenue to the state, Norrbotten and Västerbotten diverged after the recession of the early 1990s (Figure 1), as policy also shifted from equalization aspirations to more supply-driven policies emphasizing economic efficiency (Eriksson and Hane-Weijman, 2017). The continued growth of Västerbotten is mainly attributable to the growth around the university established in the regional capital of Umeå in the 1960s, while the Norrbotten’s population continues to decline. Today, about 520,000 people (5% of the Swedish population) live within the territory that covers almost 40% of the country’s area, of which the vast majority reside in the 2 regional capitals and along the eastern coast. Again, the natural resources, especially energy, serve as a crucial location factor given that about 90% of the production of iron ore in the EU originates from the 2 regions; there is an abundance of renewable and cheap energy (about 40% cheaper than the rest of Sweden), coupled with an additional 40%-50% large firm discount in Sweden compared to the EU average (McKinsey, 2024).
Population growth in Sweden and the case regions. Indexed (100) for the year 1960. Due to municipal reforms, only data for counties and nation are available before 1960.
While the northern territory faces job loss and decline, the 3 focal municipalities have also experienced different development paths and face different challenges. Gällivare, a mining city in northern Norrbotten (see Figure 2), is heavily dependent on the state-controlled mining company LKAB but also the mining and metals company Boliden. Despite continuous mining investments in recent decades by both actors, the municipality has faced population decline and welfare challenges, with increasing shares of long-distance commuters who have hollowed out the local tax base. Now, a state-controlled consortium comprised of LKAB (mining), SSAB (steel) and Vattenfall (energy) is upscaling their current pilot plant located in Luleå to a full-scale demonstration plant on LKAB’s industrial area in Gällivare with the goal to, in 2026, develop a fossil-free value chain for iron and steel production. While the steel will be produced by SSAB in Luleå, the Gällivare site will produce sponge iron by means of fossil-free hydrogen rather than coal. When in full in operation, this venture would reduce Swedish CO2 emissions by 9% (Hybrit, 2023).
Map of case regions. Monetary values in euros, population in 2023. Information on debts retrieved from SALAR (2023) for 2021 (change from 2017 in parentheses). Thin borders represent municipalities and thick borders counties.
Boden is functionally integrated with Luleå (the regional capital of Norrbotten, hosting the SSAB steel mill), and has been dominated by public sector jobs and served as a major hub for the Swedish armed forces. Boden experienced steady growth until the 1990s when first deregulation and then military downsizing negatively impacted its trajectory. In recent years, a new trajectory has developed around ICT and video games, although public firms like the municipality-controlled energy supplier remain important. Given the energy supply, the municipality has long tried to attract energy-demanding investments, and in 2021 H2 Green Steel (in September 2024 renamed to Stegra), initiated by the investor Vargas Holding, announced they had decided to establish their production plant in Boden to produce nearly fossil-free hydrogen-based iron and steel. The facility is expected to have 3 integrated parts (hydrogen production, sponge iron and steel production) and will be commissioned in two phases (2025/26 and ca 2030). While the investments in Boden and Gällivare are similar in type, Boden is expected to house both the production of sponge iron and steel, and they also differ in investors (public vs private). Compared to Skellefteå the projects have yet to be materialized into new jobs. Skellefteå, on the other hand, is the pioneer in green megaprojects. When Northvolt, a Swedish battery developer and manufacturer specializing in lithium-ion technology for electric vehicles (also initiated by Vargas Holding), announced that they had chosen the city as the site of their first production unit in 2017 ahead of several other Nordic cities (Eriksson et al., 2024), Skellefteå experienced remarkable growth after decades of stagnation. Like Boden, Skellefteå has also developed a burgeoning ICT industry and controls a major Swedish energy supplier, and therefore also tried to attract energy-demanding activities; but, unlike Boden, it also has a long tradition of specializing in manufacturing and mining (Boliden).
As noted above, both private and public firms invest in “green megaprojects”, while investments in associated housing and infrastructure are a municipal responsibility. Given that the main income for Swedish municipalities originates from income taxes paid by their residents (corporate taxes, as well as taxes on natural resources, are state taxes), the municipalities must invest in anticipated population growth to facilitate the necessary infrastructure and services required by these investments. Consequently, municipal debts in Boden have surged by 659% and in Skellefteå by 1110% since 2017 (see Figure 2). There is a growing concern that the economic risk of Sweden’s “fossil-free welfare state” ambitions will fall solely on the taxpayers in these small municipalities (SALAR, 2023), while the national government conveniently leaves the municipalities to fend for themselves. Meanwhile, private investors embrace a fantasy of “green megaprojects” while taking minimal risks.1 It is also worth noting that the three cases detailed in Figure 2 are far from the only green investments taking place in the territory. In Norrbotten alone, a total of 20 billion euros in green investments is foreseen by 2030 (e.g., SSAB in Luleå and LKAB in Kiruna). Nevertheless, the 3 cases in focus here represent large, pioneering investments and therefore serve as examples for future investments in Sweden.
The Fantasy of Green Megaprojects
Throughout the material, a relatively coherent narrative about the green megaprojects took shape. It began with brief mentions of the present situation, with an impending global-scale climate crisis and troublesome local situations in which peripheralized areas need an influx of investments, jobs and people. This worrying background situation of uneven development and climate crisis, however, seldom dominated the narrative. Instead, the narrative quickly turned to its main focus and what was constructed almost as a generous gift: that the areas were offered large-scale investments in green industries—Northvolt’s battery factory in Skellefteå, H2 Green Steel’s (H2GS) investments in Boden, and state-controlled Hybrit’s investments in both Gällivare and Kiruna. These investments brought to the areas new hopes for local job opportunities and skilled labour migration, as well as a new position within what was described as the national—and global—race towards a green industrial transition (SVT, 2023; Carlsson, 2021,Sommar i P1; Mix, 2023Sommar i P1).
Ecomodern enjoyments: The industry as the driver of green transition
A key node in the fantastical narrative is the promises that ecomodernity will reconcile the “long-standing estrangement between Western modernity and nature” (Witoszek, 2016, 142). Ecomodernity carries a hope that technology is the solution to the climate crisis and that optimism about the future is within reach. Ecomodern convictions are visible throughout all the material categories. The idea that entrepreneurs, venture capitalists and technologies are the key drivers of change and sustainability is taken for granted and rarely problematized. In the material, ecomodern approaches are always coupled with a neoliberal focus on growth, and in the media representations it is the industry rather than the environmental movement that has made things happen, as in the article quoted below (Gustafsson, 2023/Dagens Industri) featuring images of Greta Thunberg as a representative of what is described as an outdated movement, and Harald Mix as one of the capitalists we should put our faith in:
The environmental movement has played an important role in raising sustainability issues but has had its time. Now is the time to put hope and faith in the capitalists. (Gustafsson, 2023/Dagens Industri)
Processes of green transition brought about by international industrial investments are recognized as deeply desirable in contrast to traditional, more anti-capitalist climate activism. As objects of desire, green investments promised sustainable futures; but they also held other promises—those of sought-after regional and local growth and development in municipalities that in both popular culture and policy are often represented as “left-behind” and “draining” (Eriksson, 2010). A chronicle, for example, states that it is a fact that “capitalism, green capitalism, is a major part of the solution to the environmental and climate problems”. It ends with the following:
In many ways, the green reindustrialisation is revenge for a region that has for too long been regarded as the draining part of Sweden. The opportunities are enormous, infinite. Everything has a beginning and an end. No one knows how this northern fairytale will end. But what we do know is that it is the financiers, the entrepreneurs, such as Carl-Erik Lagercrantz, and private industry that are making the green transition possible. (Bengtsson, 2022/Norran)
This quote is interesting for several reasons. It takes as its starting point the local situation in Skellefteå as a “left-behind place” stuck in a development trap (cf. Rodríguez-Pose et al., 2024) and declares that the Northvolt investment is enabling “revenge” for patronizing perceptions and representations of the territory (cf. Eriksson, 2010). Such relations to the past and to feelings of long having been unfairly treated by the state and marginalized by a dominant and indifferent urban elite have been described elsewhere as significant drivers of promises of long-dreamed-of vindication (e.g., Nilsson and Lundgren, 2015). Hence, it is immensely clear that investments are thought to enable more than just what they will fund; they also prove symbolically important for the region’s sense of self. This becomes specifically clear when the investments are referred to in terms of a “fairytale”—but in the hands of financiers, entrepreneurs and private industry.
The celebration of white male businessmen, ventures and technologies is echoed throughout the material, for example, by Harald Mix (2023) in his opening words on the radio show Sommar i P1. After commenting on increasing consumer demands for sustainable and green products, and the already existing technologies to produce them, he continued:
But money is needed. We need lots of money. And above all, we need visionary entrepreneurs, ambitious business leaders, and brave investors willing to take risks. My name is Harald Mix, and my goal is to reduce global greenhouse gas emissions by 1% through my companies. Listen in, and I’ll tell you how.
With private sector visionaries in the limelight, politicians are not mentioned on the show unless briefly described as misinformed and toothless (Sovacool et al., 2023). Instead, this produces an economic rationality in which only extreme financial investments have the chance of accomplishing change. In fact, it seems the expression “giga-factory”—primarily used by Elon Musk—is manifested as a type of branding. Through the invention of a new name, the connection between green transition and extreme (masculine) scale and pace becomes naturalized (Eadson et al., 2023).
The ecomodernist fantasy takes shape and gains extra strength through representations of the enjoyable notion that it is not the devoted climate activists and elected politicians who can solve the climate crisis but that it is rather the industry that has taken on this important task. In that sense, this node in the narrative is partly driven by what Laclau (2005) calls populist sensibilities. Ecomodernist populism effectively takes advantage of a distrust in politicians as a ruling elite, and flirts with the general desire to accomplish climate goals without having to make lifestyle changes or redistribute resources (Agyeman, 2008). Instead of having the feminist killjoy expose the bad feelings connected to doing business as usual in a time of climate crisis, an inherent “white” and masculine perspective on development and the economy can be reproduced under signs of joy. This offers an enjoyable position from which to dismiss climate activists who relentlessly argue in favour of reduced consumption and the environmental costs of mining and industrial production. Discussions about social welfare and biodiversity are downplayed, and in a grippingly gendered manoeuvre, climate activism becomes feminized as ecomodernist climate awareness is connected to practices, values and identities tied to Western-centred masculinity, such as individualism, entrepreneurialism and technological innovation (Hultman, 2013).
Green heroes
The importance and scale of investments instantly centre the narrative on companies and investors, and what these are thought to bring. The individual investors, company founders and CEOs are given considerable attention throughout the material. Not only is this positive media attention beneficial for the megaprojects, which are ceaselessly courting banks and companies for new funds; it also contributes to the fantasy of megaprojects. The most prominent of the leader figures is Peter Carlsson, founder of Northvolt in Skellefteå. In the media, journalists call him the “green Jesus” for his efforts to initiate large-scale battery production, and he seems interesting enough to offer a fuller account of. His saviour position is built around classic features of a hero, with a special climate vision:
Peter Carlsson has been described as a green Jesus who salvages Sweden and the world with green jobs, who is passionate about technology overcoming the climate crisis. (DN 26 May 2022)
The term “green Jesus” doubtlessly refers to the hopes connected to easily coming to terms with climate change, an effective fantasmatic grip, suggesting that Carlsson is the planet’s saviour from doom. But this hero status is drawn from other characteristics as well. For example, Carlsson’s supposedly close relationship with Elon Musk is repeatedly mentioned by the media.2 A journalist emphasizes that Carlsson not only refers to Musk by his first name but also “pronounces it with the English pronunciation ‘Ilon’” (DN 26 May 2022). The media seldom misses the chance to describe other powerful CEOs with whom Carlsson has contact and the massive amount of money at stake. But just as important as describing Carlsson’s successful career is describing its costs. Setbacks and the health problems that a very busy workload has brought are mentioned as difficulties that he has overcome.
Heroized individuals are also present in the interviews, in which the charisma and energy possessed by single business leaders are given great prominence in regard to their decisions:
Of course, Peter [Carlsson] was extremely visionary and told us about his plans. We knew what had happened in the US, where they were going to build the world’s largest battery factory. So somewhere along the line that determination was also important for this. Someone saw—in this case, Elon Musk—that there was something here. So there was actually perhaps a strong belief in the people involved in it, that there was seriousness. Even though it was a startup, there was seriousness. (Local policymaker, Skellefteå)
Harald Mix—venture capitalist, co-founder of Northvolt, and chairman of H2 Green Steel—is also often described in glowing terms. When the Swedish media first recognizes H2GS in February 2021, statements ascribed to Mix are printed in 75 original articles (154 incl. duplicates, in which the same text was printed in different papers), and many articles on H2GS include his portrait. His power and influence are a recurring theme. For example, in March 2022 the local newspaper Norrländska Socialdemokraten (NSD, 2022) lists the “twelve company directors [who] rule the green industry”—2 women and 10 men. Mix, 1 of the 12, is described as a heavy investor and key player in H2GS, being built in Boden. Strikingly, although Hybrit in Gällivare is by far the largest of the green megaprojects (but, in contrast to the projects in Skellefteå and Boden, is a joint project between different state-controlled firms), it is less dependent on venture capital and almost completely lacks media coverage or a green hero narrative. This is noted by a senior official:
We have no one who advertises us, no Peter Carlsson; we become completely invisible. We need it for attractiveness. (Senior official, Gällivare)
The presumption that capitalism and a few “green heroes” can solve the climate crisis and accommodate regional development emerges as a kernel of enjoyment for those who want things to be business as usual. This notion is manifested in the narratives by the national government and private investors, as well as by people hoping for a better life, even as they experience a lack of control over their own futures (Berlant, 2011). For Berlant (2011) this represents a cruel optimistic relation, as the ecomodernist fantasy blocks the achievement of the desire it imagines achieving. Paradoxically, those who are celebrated as environmental heroes are also those who stand to gain the most from investments, continued consumption and local mobilization to create attractive investment sites. As previously noted, “successful” ideological fantasies are those that appear to be “given”. If the feminist killjoy threatens the fantasy, its grip weakens and it ceases to function properly. In the current times of climate crisis, once-trusted fantasies have been exposed as mere illusions or “cruel optimism”. This realization has sparked resistance and centred debates on which climate fantasies were ultimately false promises and how we should recognize inequalities and abuses of power.
Killjoy criticism
Our material involves different actors with different degrees of agency and, hence, various forms of resistive practices. In the news media texts, due to the competitive nature of the journalistic field, we can see a general disinterest in delving into intricate structural processes and subtle changes. Instead, it is in debate pieces, chronicles and interviews with debaters, journalists and civil servants that feminist killjoys become visible.
Political initiatives to exploit energy and resources and promote regional development by encouraging global capital investments in energy-intensive industries have certainly meant that the configurations of places in northern Sweden suddenly changed, but this is also true of the conditions for social reproduction. A debate piece published in the major Swedish newspaper Svenska Dagbladet critically notes that “exploitation by mining companies is now mainly seen as a necessary climate action” (Jonsson, 2022). Other points of feminist killjoy criticism are also noted in our interviews, such as a pending shortage of local teachers and healthcare personnel when workers in the public sector jump to the new jobs in the megaprojects. It has also become increasingly evident that the municipalities are left alone to cater for the investments, leading to housing shortages and a lack of welfare services and necessary infrastructure (SALAR, 2023). Hence, criticism is mainly found among activists, debaters and journalists, as they have pointed out the social and environmental impacts of megaprojects, the resource extraction, the acceleration of industry development, aspects of social reproduction and the vagueness of the plans for sustainable and fair regional development. These critics are often described as opposing the traditionally coded “masculine” narrative of economic growth and development, thus becoming feminized in the debate as they are described with values traditionally coded as “feminine”, such as caring for nature and having concern for others (see Gibson-Graham, 2008; Ormerod, 2023).
Neoclassical critique and climate deniers
The fantasy of “green megaprojects” in northern Sweden and the narratives of ecomodernism and “green heroes” are, however, also challenged from other directions, by conservatives and climate deniers. A few influential academics (economists) question the green megaprojects from a neoclassical perspective, especially focussing on whether the state should be involved in high-risk projects based on premature technologies. They argue, from a macro-economic efficiency perspective, that it would be better to focus on energy production in the north and place production elsewhere in Europe, where production costs are lower (e.g., Johansson and Kriström, 2022). This approach aims to avoid disrupting the reproduction of uneven development within and beyond Sweden.
Moreover, conservative parties, businessmen and outright climate deniers criticize attempts to fight climate change. In the Swedish context, some of these debaters are sponsored by powerful businessmen and financial families who want to protect their industries and investments in southern Sweden. They view the new megaprojects as competitors. The fear of being surpassed by industries in northern Sweden, and not receiving enough sought-after national support and green electricity produced in the northern territory, has spurred an antagonistic and colonial debate. Industry representatives in southern Sweden demand their share of electricity produced in the north. Paradoxically, accusations of environmental ignorance and colonialism arise both from those who oppose the projects from a local environmental perspective and from climate deniers and rival ecomodernists who are supportive of the megaprojects. Regardless of the reasons, it is clear that the green megaprojects have brought colonial debates to the forefront after decades of silence about inter-regional inequalities.
Killjoy resistance
The fantasy of the megaprojects in these small municipalities in northern Sweden is accompanied by promises of new job opportunities and attractive cities with a new range of amenities. In interviews with policymakers and civil servants from different municipalities, the ecomodernist narrative is reproduced and reworked but rarely outright resisted, as in a feminist killjoy resistance (Ahmed, 2010; Katz, 2004). For them, the focus is neither on general economic gain nor on endeavours to reduce fossil fuel use; instead, it centres on the liveability in their municipalities and the welfare of citizens. This is particularly evident in Skellefteå and Boden, where residents have recently started to feel a strain on the local economy. However, regardless of this, the interviewed local policymakers articulate green megaprojects as a local necessity:
We had no alternative! To afford healthcare and welfare for our citizens, we needed something to happen—new investments, new jobs. We need more taxpayers. (Local policymaker, Skellefteå)
The policymakers’ rhetoric of “no alternative” is an annoyance among many debaters, who criticize the way questions about welfare and liveability are constructed as desired bonuses rather than as key to investments. Debaters raise concerns that while the initial goal of attracting investments was to secure the welfare and cultural richness of the community, in practice the investments are made to attract and cater for industries with no such responsibilities. Notions of spillover effects are seen as joyful calculations with no evidence to support them. Hence, many debaters in northern Sweden have previously experienced firms’ broken promises, as well as policymakers’ overly positive calculations:
How is it that everything important is seen as a side-effect? It’s not the industries themselves that promise job opportunities and other things; it’s the local politicians who invent all these benefits. They suggest different types of spillover effects, maybe together with some industry organisation. Like, “for each new miner, 3.6 jobs and stuff are created”—they cook this up at a joint seminar or something. (Debater 2)
Criticism that scratches the surface of the fantasy of green megaprojects, by suggesting that its desired outcomes would not deliver what was promised, disrupts the fantasy by politicizing it (Glynos, 2001) and simultaneously steals the happiness it brought (cf. Ahmed, 2010; de Leeuw, 2024). Critics who insist on putting aspects of uneven development and social reproduction at the forefront, seeking to alter oppressive structures, thus become killjoys or pseudoconcrete obstacles in the pursuit of the imaginary fullness promised by the fantasy (Žižek, 2006). An article in Dagens Industri provides an apt example of how such criticism is constituted as a threat:
On banners, they [the climate activists] write “for people, not for profit.” This is a dangerous and, above all, false contradiction that they’re spreading. If their dogmatic opposition to capitalists and profits were to be realised, it would mean the death of the transition. (Gustafsson, 2023, Dagens Industri)
In a similar way, a review of a book about the green industry authored by an investigative journalist reflects on the journalist’s feminist killjoy position and comments on how his tireless communication of facts has positioned him as an “enemy”:
Yes, the question is whether he, in the light of the unbridled optimism, doesn’t appear as an “enemy of the people.” Which, in that case, is just another expression of a bloody good reporter. (VK, 2023, 8 August)
The choice of words is telling. The reviewer suggests that criticism of otherwise celebrated megaprojects might position critics not only as enemies of such projects but also as enemies of the people. This suggestion makes visible the populist underpinnings of the fantasy of green megaprojects that articulate the investments closely together with the needs, interests and wishes of the public.
In the interviews, the struggle particularly unfolds over what is possible to say publicly. The debaters and journalists who held a critical position share their experience of politicians, especially at national scale: disinterest in the bigger picture of processes of uneven development and alternatives. While testifying to a strong public interest, they talk about experiences of not being invited to public hearings, panels and debates, and of having their participation cancelled at the last minute. They all discuss the difficulty of being heard beyond their immediate networks and supporters, sometimes feeling they were deprived of space in the public discourse. Although they want to practise what Katz (2004) would call resistance or, in Ahmed’s (2023) terminology, feminist killjoy resistance—spreading structural understanding and exposing hidden injustices and alternative views of the investments to accomplish change in what they see as an undemocratic process—their possibilities to do so have been limited by policymakers’ investment in and consequent efforts to protect the fantasy of the megaprojects:
At a panel discussion with policymakers, I suggested that people in Norrland should form a resistance, go out on the streets, and demand to be involved and accounted for. But the policymakers looked terrified; they said, “No, we can’t do that, we might risk frightening the investors”. I’ve realised since then that the local policymakers—they’re trapped. (Debater 1)
I have no illusions of influencing the main political trend; it’s so cemented. Think of the alternative: if people in the parliament and government were to start acting based on the resource-related problems I describe, they would contact Volvo and say, “What are you doing? Are you building a car that weighs 2.8 tons? Are you crazy?” No, they’d never have such a discussion with the industry; no, they’re light years away from talking about that. (Debater 1)
Sami activists and reindeer herders have a long history of being perceived as killjoys (de Leeuw 2024). They have long fought for their right to use their land (Sápmi) in northern Sweden and to not have their livelihood shattered by new mines and wind power parks. The chairman of the Sami Parliament refers to the megaprojects as “colonialism and destruction of nature” and calls for another kind of economy:
A green transition is needed, but one has to see the disadvantages and proceed with caution. It’s also a matter of justice. We in the north cannot only provide natural resources for southern Sweden. The electricity has to be produced where it’s consumed. Another part of the solution is a circular economy and saving resources. But that’s less talked about. (Norran, 2022, 1 April)
Below, a civil servant in Gällivare reflects on the difficult position of the indigenous population in these times of fast-developing megaprojects. In his municipality, the Sami land for reindeer herding has almost vanished:
Bluntly put, we’re in the position where we hope that our municipality will not be the first to end the possibilities for reindeer herding. You know, there are regulations; we need to ask the Sami for reports and opinions when new windmills and infrastructure are planned in Sápmi. But there’s no way they can answer all the applications and questions; they have full-time jobs. They typically just say no to everything. (Senior official, Gällivare)
Resilience and reworkings of fantasy
The stories of civil servants’ resistance differ somewhat from those of journalists and debaters. In this context, the narratives often emerge as displays of resilience and creative adaptations and are marked by a frustration related to entitlement. While civil servants rarely question the ecomodernist narrative directly, they attempt to rework and challenge assumptions about investment consequences. The interviews reveal their fear of losing policymakers’ confidence and the potential consequences they face. This tension has sometimes led to the suppression of dissent within the organization. Two civil servants express this sentiment below, highlighting the delicate balance of critique:
We want others to say the emperor is naked. If we did that, we’d make it impossible for ourselves. People would think we were in the wrong place, that it’s not our job …. (Norrbotten region civil servant 1)
Sometimes the younger members of our unit want to do or say something radical, and we have to be the ones to caution them: “Don’t do that; it won’t work.” We need to choose the right time and place for our critique. (Norrbotten region civil servant 2)
A private consultant involved in planning and building the H2GS production site in Boden had faced challenges related to the privatization and marketization of green investments, and had felt silenced and trapped as conditions shifted unexpectedly:
My company engaged the most well-known herpetologist in Sweden. He concluded that some rare frogs would risk losing their habitat if the industry were built in that location. The municipality just asked for another herpetologist who was willing to certify that the whole municipality could be considered a habitat—hence, the frogs had elsewhere to go … some of my colleagues resigned after that incident. (Planning consultant, private national consulting company)
The acceleration, pace and scale of the megaprojects are also mentioned by our interviewees who work with healthcare and in the social services in Gällivare. Having long experience of being stuck in a development trap, enabled by the sparsely populated area and the Swedish tax system, large investments have been followed by a diminishing tax base and deteriorating welfare provision. They emphasize what they perceive as a neglect of, and an increased pressure on, the public sector and local welfare in general, as well as questioning high-profile investments in, for instance, cultural buildings and architectural competitions in the wake of the large investments in their municipality:
From my perspective as a social worker, prioritising building design is terrible. Who cares about prizes for the best-designed building? Only politicians do, while citizens largely ignore it. What matters most is having enough skilled teachers. (Social worker, Gällivare)
Healthcare workers echoed these sentiments:
We just want decent housing and better working conditions. The mine investments don’t seem to improve our situation at the hospital. We’re not part of the big investments; it feels like a parallel society. (Healthcare worker, Gällivare)
Some interviewees close to policymakers grapple with the reality of population decline and a stagnant housing market alongside the allure of megaprojects. One civil servant describes local politicians’ annoyance when Statistics Sweden (SCB) published gloomy population projections; the fear was that negative projections would impact investments and the municipality’s image.
This is one example of how politicians attempt, despite available knowledge saying something else, to reproduce the fantasy of the megaproject. While the politicians want the projections to be publicly recast, the civil servants have a different understanding. “We know for a fact that there is little correlation between investments and population growth (…), but it was not the right time and place to object”, the civil servant working for the Norrbotten region says, suggesting the difference between politicians and civil servants but also explaining why potential killjoy information tended to be downplayed. Another planner explains the conundrum residing in the well-established awareness of the significance of in-migration and the equally well-established experience that people do not move:
We know it’s all about in-migration, and we know people don’t tend to move easily, but we have to believe it. (Spatial planner, Gällivare)
This quote pinpoints the way belief becomes detached from knowledge and, by extension, how the fantasy comes to be included in a realm of forceful necessity. The spatial planner already faces a fait accompli, and has few other options of resistance than to mitigate the negative effects of the investments, such as Gällivare’s already existing fly-in, fly-out society.
There are, however, a few examples of more concrete acts of reworking policy and practice. One of the interviewed civil servants had taken the initiative to buy a number of copies of a recently re-published book that raises concerns about the sustainability of the present process (Sörlin, 2023). The book draws a parallel between the contemporary investments and the industrialization of the Norrland area a hundred years ago and critically discusses the colonialism that is present in both processes. This interviewee had felt the need to put the investments into perspective, she says and wanted people who worked for the region to understand more of the context and possible pitfalls. Some of her co-workers had expressed interest in the book, but she contends that others might have just “thrown it away; most people probably didn’t read it”. The purchase and its intent can nonetheless be seen as a resistive practice (Katz, 2004), as it aimed to explicitly challenge hegemonic powers and address broader exploitative systems.
The stories about different types of protest could be seen as political moments, capturing the “registration of the simple idea that things need not be the way they are, that they could be different” (Chang and Glynos, 2011, 117). This means not only bringing to the table alternative ways of comprehending the investments but also, and perhaps more significantly, destabilizing the ideological fantasy itself and addressing regional inequalities in ways that unveil power relations (Massey, 2005; Parker, 2017).
However, destabilizing ideological fantasy also means shattering the promises it offers, and at the same time questioning the “heroic” positions it presents. From this point of view, any suggestion that the fantasmatic script does not represent “reality” and will not lead to the promised joys will be perceived as threatening, not least to those who are personally invested in it—or invested by way of their professional positions. Hence, questioning the feasibility of a megaproject also implies questioning the credibility of celebrated investors and suggesting that an industrial failure awaits which would also reflect the failure of the places and people who align with the investments. The optimism that alignment with the fantasy implies risks being revealed as quite “cruel” (Berlant, 2011). From the point of view of ideology, it is, therefore, key that the “possibility of other potential realities” be covered over (Chang and Glynos, 2011, 115).
According to Ahmed (2023), feminist killjoys tend to become the problem themselves by pointing out the problem. The material thus contains numerous strategies for avoiding becoming “the problem”, opting instead for diverse resistance strategies (Katz, 2004). This tendency is the most pronounced among the interviewed civil servants, who had felt they had no mandate to level criticism but instead tried to rework the narrative to maintain their credibility and lay the groundwork for other potential realities and narratives (Ormerod, 2023).
Conclusions
The aim of this study was to analyse the ideological fantasy of three “green megaprojects” in the making and to assess how it is resisted and reworked but also defended through the thwarting, dismissal or exclusion of critical voices. Having scrutinized a broad range of materials in relation to the ongoing green megaprojects in northern Sweden, we suggest the presence of a strong ideological fantasy of green megaprojects, which has worked to support the notion that the green investments are the ultimate answer to two separate situations that the fantasy managed to knit together: global climate crisis, and the “left-behindness” of the geographic areas in question. Our study of the symbolic construction and grip of the fantasy notes the continuous thwarting of criticism in media and political discourse. When the concept of the feminist killjoy (Ahmed, 2023) is added, it becomes clear that, except for debaters and journalists, there was a hesitation to take this position. Nonetheless, the reworkings and resilience of officials and others may indeed provide strategies of perseverance in people’s daily lives, as well as strategies for imagining and claiming alternative forms of politicization (Berlant, 2011; Katz, 2004). Hence, people with in-depth knowledge of and critical views on the megaprojects’ impact on sustainability and equity made seemingly logical arguments for not criticizing it openly.
Our results further underline that a feminist critique is needed to understand the ways in which the megaprojects, through discourses of ecomodernism and “green heroes”, are stabilized by ignoring the interdependency of all who produce, share, consume, distribute and contribute to society. Hence, the standard critique of venture capitalists does not apply; the “green heroes” are viewed as “good capitalists” and are hence not subject to normal scrutiny—the criticism is mainly delivered from conservative and anti-environmental lobbying. Instead, the fantasy of megaprojects—built around the fantasmatic narratives of ecomodernism and heroism—idealizes a masculinized political economy of individualism, competition and growth that is intimately interlaced with the perceived needs and identities of specific places trying to embark on a new development path. In fact, any misalignment with the fantasy is understood as being non-supportive of the local area (cf. Lundgren and Nilsson, 2023). The constructed urgency of the megaprojects is taken for granted by policymakers and thus serves to obstruct democratic conversations about the distribution of risks and rewards, by way of referring to the reworkings and resistance as a “threat” to the region’s development. This was particularly evident during the municipalities’ bids for the projects (Eriksson et al., 2024), but also in the way the current development is regarded as the only alternative for the climate and for the local area.
The content of the resistance and reworkings in our material involves the insistence on stepping away from economic rationales to focus on aspects of justice and equality. The cancelling of debaters, the self-silencing of civil servants and the ignoring of social workers and healthcare workers probably have to do with the political awareness of the vulnerable situation the municipalities are in. The municipalities in this study are all, after a few joyful years since landing the megaprojects, currently struggling to secure housing and welfare for present and future citizens at the same time as they have become heavily indebted and in even greater need of population growth than before the investments. The fantasy of green megaprojects in media and political discourses has thus produced a space that is closed to alternatives and normal democratic processes. It thereby forecloses discussions on alternative futures (cf. Ormerod, 2023).
Nevertheless, from decades of slowly accepting persistent patterns of uneven development, the green megaprojects have put colonial discussions and questions of spatial justice back on the public agenda. We identify a nascent colonial lens on the discussions regarding whom the energy and natural resources should be produced for, but also an articulated colonial criticism from environmental groups and the indigenous population, as well as from civil servants who turn to historical research to remember previous processes of resource extraction and colonial relationships—thereby also questioning whom the fantasy actually offers enjoyment to (i.e., investors and the state) and whether this can indeed spark regional development. Hence, although numerous calls have recently been made to reconsider regional research in order to put questions of spatial justice and welfare back on the agenda (e.g., MacKinnon et al., 2022; Martin, 2021), our findings regarding the current megaprojects suggest that conversations about redistribution and power can indeed be brought forward, albeit articulated quite differently depending on the subject position. In this sense, we call for an explicit discussion of the cruel optimism and fantasy of “green” capitalist production and hence the “placeless”, unsettled and irresponsible life of “green heroes and megaprojects” which risk resulting in “green discontent”. By scrutinizing the ideological fantasy of megaprojects, our findings have highlighted what Berlant (2011) would call its “cruel” material effects on nature, resource distribution and social reproduction addressed by (silenced) critics and feminist killjoys. Such a discrepancy between the promises of fantasy and its actual outcomes on the local scale—for example, for whom and where it brings enjoyment, and who gains from the sheer exhaustion the fantasy carries with it (Berlant, 2011)—is likely to be a key mechanism through which discontent is formed.
This article was written before the Northvolt crisis of 2024, during which it became evident that Northvolt had failed to produce even a fraction of the batteries it had promised. This shortfall led several major investors to withdraw their support, resulting in the bankruptcy of one of their subsidiaries in Skellefteå. Subsequently, Northvolt laid-off approximately 1000 workers in Skellefteå and is now attempting to avoid liquidation through a Chapter 11 reorganization in the USA (Financial Times, 2024).
The filing for Chapter 11 coincided with the resignation of Peter Carlsson as CEO in November 2024 and a change in the public narrative about the firm and the hero-status of Carlsson himself. The financial columnist Andreas Cervenka (2024), for example, notes that Carlsson and several members of Northvolt’s executive management sold shares for substantial sums prior to the company’s collapse while Swedish pension funds and other investors have had to write off their investments in the 6 billion Euro dept-laden company. Whether or not Northvolt will survive this ongoing crisis remains uncertain, as do the precise effects on Skellefteå and its population.
As exemplified in this paper, the space for critical engagement shrinks when ruling elites become invested in singular dominant fantasies. A feminist critique can prompt a re-evaluation of the framing and implementation of these projects, potentially averting developments akin to those observed in the case of Northvolt and Skellefteå. We thereby adhere to a long tradition of feminist economic geographers (e.g., Gibson-Graham, 2008; Massey, 2005; McDowell, 2010; Ormerod, 2023) arguing for a feminist politics and practice that may promise new regional futures beyond the taken-for-granted neoliberal ideologies that often underpin green megaprojects. It is only through such a lens, and with a completely different set of regional development priorities aimed at local development and social and environmental well-being, that it will be possible to address processes of uneven regional development and processes of “left-behindness”.
Acknowledgements
The paper benefited greatly from the constructive feedback from participants at the Regional Studies Association EdgeNet meeting in Cornwall 2024 and from the insightful comments of the three anonymous referees. All usual disclaimers apply. This work was funded by Riksbankens Jubileumsfond [grant M22-0029] and Vetenskapsrådet [grant 2018-01582].
Footnotes
During the revision of this article, several disruptive developments have occurred around Northvolt. On 23 September 2024, Northvolt announced that due to financial shortage, they would lay-off about 1600 employees (of which about 1000 in Skellefteå, 400 in their R&D facility in Västerås and about 200 in Stockholm) and discontinued one of their Skellefteå subsidiaries (Northvolt Ett Expansion). Finally, in November 2024 they filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection in the US. Currently, about 3000 persons are still employed at Northvolt in Skellefteå. Although this means that the number of jobs in Skellefteå is close to the original ambition (see Eriksson et al., 2024), it is about 2000 less than their later plans and exactly how the bankruptcy will cascade in the local economy is unknown and the future survival of the firm is uncertain.
The authors would like to note that this admiring attitude towards Elon Musk was expressed before his involvement in American politics, and before Swedish workers initiated a strike against Elon Musk’s electric vehicle company, Tesla. The Swedish industrial union, IF Metall, has been advocating for improved wages, benefits and working conditions for mechanics employed at Tesla repair shops nationwide (Dagens Arbete, 2024, 27 October). In the Swedish context, at the time when the empirical material in this article was produced, Musk was still primarily associated with green technology and liberal ideals.
