Rado

29/07/2026

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ATTENTION!
RADO RECOMMENDING LETTER TO SAVE DEPORTATION OF OUR REGIONAL COORDINATOR AND MEMBER JOSEPH JONATHAN KALYOWA AND HIS DAUGHTER ( KAGGY) WITH RADO ID NO: 055

To the Flygtningenaevnet Denmark
Re: JONATHAN KALYOWA
Dear Sir/Madam,
RE: Rainbow and Diversity Organisation (RADO) requests urgent intervention in the case of its member Kalyowa Jonathan Joseph.

I Eddy Kalyango a Swedish citizen of sound mind from a renowned Human Rights organization Rainbow and Diversity Organisation (RADO). The organization which was mainly formed to address Human rights emerging issues to all vulnerable people including stigmatized and marginalized groups.

Its work is mainly focused on Policy reforms, Economic Empowerment, Health Educational issues, Legal support, and guidance to lgbtiq community and other marginalized minority vulnerable groups to end discrimination and injustices towards these vulnerable communities.

We as RADO are especially worried about the worsening situation for the LGBTIQ people and activists in Uganda. Over the years the lgbtiq community in Uganda has been harassed, cajoled, insulted, discriminated against, and referred to as beasts and on several occasions have been called inhuman, insane, sick, immoral, and not upright thinking members of the society.

The lgbtiq people in Uganda have for long been suppressed by individuals, families, local councils, media, police, church leaders, and top politicians and this has left many of them victims, homeless, jobless, and hopeless. It has made most of them economically and socially underpowered.

There are increased assaults, mob justice, evictions, firings, and even deaths among the lgbtiq people and activists in Uganda, resulting from stigmatization and discrimination both from society and the government.

Homophobia is given voice by an intolerant press, institutionalized by the Penal Code and new anti- lgbtiq popular legislation which turned in law after being signed by the president on May 29, 2023, with mob justice given strength by politicians and religious leaders.

The new Anti-Homosexuality law presents onerous prison terms for lgbtiq people and activists especially someone who has admitted internationally to being a Homosexual or supporting the lgbtiq community in any way or form.

I Eddy Kalyango a Swedish citizen and residence in Sweden bring to your attention once again Jonathan Joseph Kalyowa our member in RADO as regional coordinator in Denmark his troubles, threats, torture, and persecution encountered at the hands of security authorities and society in general because of his sexual orientation and his work as an lgbtiq activist the accusations he has denied for years due to the homophobia in the society.

He since then fled out of the country to seek for asylum in Denmark with the help of a friend from one of the activist groups in Uganda. Jonathan is a devoted lgbtiq activist who has committed and risked his life to voluntarily work with different lgbtiq issues considering the challenges and threats posed to the lgbtiq community in Uganda.

He has been and is still an upper hand and advocate in equipping different members in the closet with knowledge and hands-on skills like Bakery and aide to the community members. There is currently a strong wave of persecution against both political opposition activists and lgbtiq activists in Uganda.

But the situation for lgbtiq activists in Uganda is devastating ever since the president signed the Anti- homosexuality Act into Law. The introduction of the NGO- Registration Act also worsened the climate for our services to the marginalized lgbtiq people in Uganda. The risks and dangers of being killed by the mob or arrested are overwhelmingly as an lgbtiq person or activist.

Over the years, the lgbtq people have been harassed, cajoled, insulted, discriminated against, and have been referred to as beasts and on several occasions, have been called inhuman, insane, sick, immoral and not upright-thinking members of the society. This persecution is on the increase and at an all-time high at this time.

LGBTI people have been for long suppressed by individuals, families, media, police, churches, and by top politicians. This has left many of them victims, homeless, jobless, and hopeless. It has made most of them economically and socially underpowered. There are increased assaults, evictions, firings, and even deaths among the LGBTI people from su***de, resulting from stigmatization and from HIV/AIDS and the like, resulting from discrimination even in health issues.

Homophobia is given voice by the press, institutionalized by the Penal Code and impending new popular legislation, with mob justice given strength by politicians and religious leaders.

If Jonathan Kalyowa and his daughter are returned to Uganda they will be harassed and possibly harmed upon arrival at the airport inspite the daughter being a minor. Therefore there is no place where they can seek safe shelter in Uganda.

Denmark has been very supportive of the Uganda Gay rights movement and it will be an embarrassment if your office doesn’t live up to its expectations in protecting those that need the protection most from persecution. This is the time to show that you are not offering lip service for PR in media. Jonathan`s deportation with his daughter who is still a minor will be a betrayal of the support that you have continued to support those on the ground.

Jonathan Kalyowa is a very hardworking man who will contribute to the development of Denmark given an opportunity to live from fear and persecution.

We are humbly requesting, that you reconsider this case for deportation and that you go to whatever lengths possible to ensure that Jonathan Joseph Kalyowa and his daughter are kept safely in Denmark, where they are free to live authentically, and where they will not be subjected to the dangers that he faced and or will face in Uganda. Thank you for your kind consideration and urgent attention to rectifying this situation.

I declare that what I have written in this statement is true and I affirm it to be true as if I had sworn under oath in Court.
Sincerely,
Eddy Kalyango
Patron
RADO
www.rado.ug

21/07/2026

WHEN SECURITY BECOMES TEMPORARY!
What Sweden Risks by Abolishing Permanent Residence Permits.

Can a society truly expect people to integrate if it never allows them to feel secure? That is the question Sweden must confront following one of the most significant changes to its migration policy. On 12 July 2026, permanent residence permits (PUT) ceased to be the general rule, with temporary residence permits becoming the new standard.

The government argues that the reform aligns Swedish asylum policy with the European Union’s minimum standards and strengthens migration control. Yet many researchers, employers, trade unions, migration experts, and public authorities warn that the long-term consequences may outweigh the intended benefits.

Integration Requires Stability
Successful integration is built on certainty, not uncertainty. When people do not know whether they will be allowed to remain in Sweden, they are less likely to invest fully in learning Swedish, pursuing higher education, building careers, or participating in community life. Instead of planning for the future, many focus on immediate survival. Research has consistently shown that secure residence encourages stronger labour market participation, language acquisition, and civic engagement.

A Less Competitive Economy
Sweden depends on skilled workers, entrepreneurs, and innovators to sustain economic growth. However, people are less likely to start businesses, purchase homes, or make long-term investments when their future remains uncertain. Highly qualified professionals may instead choose countries that offer clearer pathways to permanent settlement, worsening existing shortages in healthcare, education, engineering, technology, and other key sectors.

The Human Cost of Uncertainty
Beyond economics lies a deeply human consequence. Living for years without knowing whether one will be allowed to stay can create chronic stress, anxiety, and emotional exhaustion. Children often carry this burden as well, affecting their education, mental well-being, and sense of belonging. Families cannot fully build stable lives while living in constant uncertainty.

More Bureaucracy, More Costs
Replacing permanent permits with repeated temporary renewals also increases administrative pressure. The Swedish Migration Agency must repeatedly reassess many of the same individuals, leading to longer processing times, higher public expenditure, and greater pressure on government resources.

At the same time, stricter rules may unintentionally increase the number of undocumented residents, as some people who have lived, worked, paid taxes, and established families in Sweden may choose to remain rather than return to countries where they have little connection.

A Question About Sweden’s Future
Every sovereign nation has the right to regulate immigration and protect the integrity of its borders. But effective migration policy must do more than control who enters—it must also create conditions that allow those who are legally permitted to stay to become productive, responsible, and fully integrated members of society.

The real question is not whether Sweden should have immigration rules. It is what kind of society those rules are intended to build. A country that expects people to learn the language, work, pay taxes, obey the law, and contribute to society should also provide a realistic pathway to long-term stability.

A secure future encourages people to invest in the nation they call home. An uncertain future often encourages hesitation instead. If Sweden wishes to strengthen integration, economic growth, and social cohesion, then stability should be viewed not as a reward to be withheld, but as one of the strongest foundations upon which successful integration is built.~Eddy Kalyango.

14/07/2026

13/07/2026

WE ARE STANDING AT THE BORDER.
And What Kind of Sweden Are We Becoming?
For generations, Sweden has been associated with justice, compassion, and the belief that every human being deserves dignity. It has been a country where people could build a future through hard work, where children could grow up believing they belonged, and where families could put down roots without constantly fearing that everything they had built might suddenly disappear. Yet today, many people are questioning whether those values are beginning to erode.

We are witnessing a Sweden in which a child born and raised here can be deported to a country they have never known. We are witnessing a society where years of employment, tax contributions, education, language acquisition, friendships, neighbors, colleagues, and deep community ties can suddenly be declared irrelevant. A family that has lived as a family for years can, within a single administrative decision, cease to be treated as one and instead become nothing more than a “case.”

These decisions are often defended in the name of order. But we must ask ourselves what kind of order we are creating. What kind of order leaves a child without a home? What kind of security depends upon other families living in fear? What kind of rule of law measures justice only by procedure while overlooking the human consequences of its decisions? A legal system is not judged solely by its ability to enforce rules, but also by how it treats the people whose lives those rules profoundly affect.

I do not write these words as a politician. I write them simply as a human being.
Nor do I write them to provoke conflict or assign blame. I write because behind the word ”deportation” there is never just an administrative decision. Behind every deportation is a home, a workplace, a child, a family, friendships, memories, hopes, and years of life that cannot simply be erased with the stroke of a pen. These are not abstract concepts or political talking points—they are human lives.

That is why it is so painful to watch deeply personal stories increasingly reduced to bureaucratic language, case numbers, and political slogans. When the human experience disappears behind official terminology, it becomes easier to ignore the suffering that follows. The language may become more clinical, but the consequences remain painfully real.

Every time we become accustomed to a child being removed from the only country they have ever called home, the border moves. Every time the destruction of a family is dismissed as merely “a consequence of the rules,” the border moves. Every time we respond with, “That’s the law,” without asking what that law is doing to living human beings, the border moves again.

The greatest danger is not only the decisions themselves. It is the gradual normalization of them. History has repeatedly shown that societies rarely change overnight. They change one accepted exception at a time, one compromise after another, until what once seemed unimaginable becomes ordinary. The true border is therefore not merely political—it is moral. It is crossed whenever compassion gives way to indifference and human dignity becomes secondary to administrative convenience.

I do not want to become accustomed to such a reality. I refuse to accept a society in which a human life can be reduced to a case number. I do not want children’s fear, parents’ despair, and broken families to become routine headlines that no longer move us because we have seen them too many times.

Because when a society begins to accept that some people’s lives can simply be crossed out, it is not only those individuals who lose their homes. We all lose something. We lose part of the compassion that once defined us, part of the justice we claimed to uphold, and part of the Sweden we believed future generations would inherit.

That is why this moment matters. The question before us is not only what kind of immigration policy we want, but what kind of society we choose to become. The border we are standing at is not merely between two political visions. It is between preserving our shared humanity and allowing it to slowly fade away. The decision we make today will shape not only the lives of those facing deportation, but the moral character of Sweden itself.~Eddy Kalyango.

06/07/2026

WE ARE STANDING AT THE BORDER.
And What Kind of Sweden Are We Becoming?
Many people are feeling it today. It is more than anger. It is more than worry. It is the growing realization that we are standing at a border—a border between the Sweden we once believed in and another Sweden that is becoming increasingly visible through political decisions, public discourse, and the realities faced by ordinary people.

For generations, Sweden has been associated with justice, compassion, and the belief that every human being deserves dignity. It has been a country where people could build a future through hard work, where children could grow up believing they belonged, and where families could put down roots without constantly fearing that everything they had built might suddenly disappear. Yet today, many people are questioning whether those values are beginning to erode.

We are witnessing a Sweden in which a child born and raised here can be deported to a country they have never known. We are witnessing a society where years of employment, tax contributions, education, language acquisition, friendships, neighbors, colleagues, and deep community ties can suddenly be declared irrelevant. A family that has lived as a family for years can, within a single administrative decision, cease to be treated as one and instead become nothing more than a “case.”

These decisions are often defended in the name of order. But we must ask ourselves what kind of order we are creating. What kind of order leaves a child without a home? What kind of security depends upon other families living in fear? What kind of rule of law measures justice only by procedure while overlooking the human consequences of its decisions? A legal system is not judged solely by its ability to enforce rules, but also by how it treats the people whose lives those rules profoundly affect.

I do not write these words as a politician. I write them simply as a human being.
Nor do I write them to provoke conflict or assign blame. I write because behind the word ”deportation” there is never just an administrative decision. Behind every deportation is a home, a workplace, a child, a family, friendships, memories, hopes, and years of life that cannot simply be erased with the stroke of a pen. These are not abstract concepts or political talking points—they are human lives.

That is why it is so painful to watch deeply personal stories increasingly reduced to bureaucratic language, case numbers, and political slogans. When the human experience disappears behind official terminology, it becomes easier to ignore the suffering that follows. The language may become more clinical, but the consequences remain painfully real.

Every time we become accustomed to a child being removed from the only country they have ever called home, the border moves. Every time the destruction of a family is dismissed as merely “a consequence of the rules,” the border moves. Every time we respond with, “That’s the law,” without asking what that law is doing to living human beings, the border moves again.

The greatest danger is not only the decisions themselves. It is the gradual normalization of them. History has repeatedly shown that societies rarely change overnight. They change one accepted exception at a time, one compromise after another, until what once seemed unimaginable becomes ordinary. The true border is therefore not merely political—it is moral. It is crossed whenever compassion gives way to indifference and human dignity becomes secondary to administrative convenience.

I do not want to become accustomed to such a reality. I refuse to accept a society in which a human life can be reduced to a case number. I do not want children’s fear, parents’ despair, and broken families to become routine headlines that no longer move us because we have seen them too many times.

Because when a society begins to accept that some people’s lives can simply be crossed out, it is not only those individuals who lose their homes. We all lose something. We lose part of the compassion that once defined us, part of the justice we claimed to uphold, and part of the Sweden we believed future generations would inherit.

That is why this moment matters. The question before us is not only what kind of immigration policy we want, but what kind of society we choose to become. The border we are standing at is not merely between two political visions. It is between preserving our shared humanity and allowing it to slowly fade away. The decision we make today will shape not only the lives of those facing deportation, but the moral character of Sweden itself.~Eddy Kalyango.

17/06/2026

WHEN FEAR BECOMES POLICY!
Why Sweden’s New Reporting Laws Threaten Human Rights and Public Health. The Swedish Parliament’s recent approval of two controversial Tidö Agreement proposals marks a troubling shift in the relationship between the state and some of society’s most vulnerable residents.

The new measures—an expanded information obligation for authorities and stricter conduct requirements for residence permits—are presented as tools for strengthening migration control. In reality, however, they risk undermining trust in public institutions, eroding fundamental legal protections, and placing human lives at risk.

The first proposal requires six government agencies, including the Swedish Tax Agency, the Swedish Social Insurance Agency, and the Swedish Employment Agency, to report individuals whom they have reason to believe lack the legal right to reside in Sweden. While supporters argue that this is necessary to uphold immigration laws, the threshold for reporting is alarmingly low.

Authorities need only have “reason to assume” that a person is undocumented. Such a vague standard increases the risk of mistakes, discrimination, and arbitrary reporting, potentially affecting individuals who have legitimate claims to residency or whose cases are still under review.

Equally concerning is the proposal regarding “lack of conduct.” Under this legislation, residence permits may be denied or revoked based on a person’s lifestyle or behavior, even when no criminal offense has been committed.

This principle challenges a cornerstone of democratic justice: that individuals should be judged according to established laws and proven wrongdoing, not subjective assessments of their character or personal choices. Granting authorities broad discretion to evaluate morality rather than legality opens the door to inconsistent and potentially discriminatory decisions.

The most serious consequence of these policies, however, is their impact on public trust. For years, healthcare professionals, researchers, and civil society organizations have warned that reporting requirements could discourage undocumented individuals from seeking medical care.

Fear of detection and deportation may lead people to avoid hospitals, clinics, and other essential services, even in life-threatening situations. Public health systems function effectively only when people feel safe accessing them. When fear becomes a barrier to treatment, the consequences extend beyond undocumented individuals and affect society as a whole.

Patient confidentiality has long been a fundamental principle of healthcare. It exists not merely to protect privacy but to ensure that people can seek help without fear of punishment or exposure. Although healthcare services have so far been partially exempted from reporting requirements, ongoing political discussions about broader reporting obligations continue to create uncertainty. Even the perception that personal information might be shared with law enforcement can be enough to deter vulnerable individuals from seeking care.

Furthermore, these measures risk transforming public servants into immigration enforcement agents. Teachers, social workers, healthcare staff, and government employees are expected to serve the public interest and provide assistance without prejudice. Requiring them to report individuals based on their immigration status creates ethical conflicts and undermines the trust necessary for their professions to function effectively.

Supporters of the legislation argue that a state must have the ability to enforce its immigration laws. This principle is not disputed. However, effective migration policy should not come at the expense of fundamental rights, public health, or the integrity of public institutions. A democratic society must balance enforcement with humanity, legality with fairness, and security with respect for human dignity.

The Tidö proposals fail this test. By encouraging surveillance within public services, expanding discretionary power over residence permits, and fostering fear among vulnerable populations, they weaken the social trust that underpins Swedish society.

Rather than strengthening the rule of law, these measures risk creating a climate of suspicion and exclusion. Sweden should pursue migration policies that are both effective and humane—not policies that make people afraid to seek help, participate in society, or trust the institutions designed to serve them.~ Eddy Kalyango.

22/05/2026

The draft amendment was submitted on Wednesday, just over a week after the new government took office. It marked Magyar and his Tisza party’s first step in dismantling a constitution that was unilaterally rewritten and amended more than a dozen times as Orbán and his Fidesz party worked to turn Hungary into what they called a “petri dish for illiberalism”.

Péter Magyar’s draft amendment would prevent his predecessor from returning to the role

30/04/2026

SWEDEN AT A CROSSROADS:MIGRATION,INTEGRATION,AND THE FUTURE OF A NATION.

Sweden has long prided itself on being a beacon of openness, tolerance, and humanitarian values. For decades, people fleeing war, persecution, and poverty looked to Sweden as a place of safety and opportunity. But today, Sweden finds itself at a profound crossroads — one that forces us to ask a difficult question: what does it truly mean to build a society where everyone belongs?

The numbers alone tell a striking story. As of January 2024, over 1.6 million third-country nationals — representing 15.3% of Sweden's population — lived in the country, and over 2.1 million of Sweden's inhabitants, or 20% of the population, were born abroad. Sweden is, in every meaningful sense, already a multicultural nation. Yet the systems designed to welcome and integrate newcomers are straining under enormous pressure.

Sweden is redirecting its focus — from being a country for asylum immigration to being a country for labour immigration. This is not a minor policy adjustment. It represents a fundamental reorientation of the Swedish state's relationship with migration.

Asylum immigration is now at its lowest level since 1985. On the surface, this may sound like a success story. But we must ask: at what cost? The government's stated logic is clear: reduced asylum immigration creates better conditions for successful integration. But integration is not simply a numbers game. It is a human process — slow, complicated, and deeply personal.

Sweden's integration challenges are real and cannot be dismissed. A government inquiry identified significant problems in the form of social exclusion, dependency on benefits, criminality, and parallel societies. These are not merely political talking points — they reflect genuine fractures in Swedish society that demand honest, evidence-based responses.

Sweden's own Prime Minister, Ulf Kristersson, has not shied away from acknowledging this. He stated plainly: "We do have a problem with integration." And yet, the solutions being pursued raise serious questions of their own.

One of the most controversial measures has been the dramatic expansion of voluntary repatriation grants. A new government proposal raised the repatriation grant to approximately €32,000 — an increase of 3,400% — taking inspiration from the Danish model.

But critics argue that financial incentives alone fail to address the underlying issues that compel migrants to leave Sweden, such as social isolation, economic challenges, and integration difficulties. And indeed, the data on why migrants leave Sweden is sobering.

A survey by Uppsala University revealed that 58% of departing immigrants were dissatisfied with working conditions, while 67% cited a lack of opportunities for social integration. Approximately 45% cited cultural and identity-related struggles, and a recent study found that 72% of returnees did not feel part of Swedish society. These figures point not to a failure of migrants, but to a failure of the systems around them.

In the past few years, Sweden has introduced a wave of restrictive legislative reforms. As of 1 April 2025, the possibility for rejected asylum seekers to transition to work permits without leaving the country was abolished, eliminating the so-called "track change" option.

New proposals aim to require eight years of residency for citizenship, compared to the current five, alongside mandatory knowledge of the Swedish language and civic knowledge. Perhaps most striking of all is a proposal to retroactively revoke permanent residence permits.

A Swedish government commission of inquiry presented a proposal that would fundamentally alter the legal position of thousands of people with protection status — a new law revoking permanent residence permits previously granted on asylum-related grounds, intended to enter into force on 1 January 2027.

Retroactive revocation effectively turns "permanent" into "until further notice," destabilising the legal status of non-citizens and reflecting a prioritisation of state control over individual rights. This is a watershed moment. When the state begins to rewrite the terms of belonging for people who have built their lives here in good faith, we must pause and ask ourselves what kind of society we want to be.

Here lies one of the deepest contradictions in Sweden's current approach. On one hand, Sweden needs to continue to attract foreign experts, researchers, and talents in order to strengthen Swedish competitiveness and Sweden's status as a research nation. On the other, the tightening of immigration rules risks sending exactly the opposite message to the world.

Sweden and other Nordic countries have in recent years moved to tighten migration and integration policy frameworks, shifting from a rights-based approach to one centred on migrants' obligations and individual responsibility. The danger here is a false dichotomy — as if demanding responsibility from newcomers means removing the responsibility of society to offer genuine opportunity in return.

Ladies and gentlemen, Sweden's migration and integration challenges are real. But real problems deserve real solutions — not merely symbolic ones. Restricting entry and encouraging departure may reduce numbers, but it does not build cohesion. It does not create belonging. What does build cohesion? Investment in language learning. Access to meaningful employment. Communities where newcomers are not segregated but included.

The government itself acknowledges that integration policy should enable more people to fully become part of, and contribute to, Swedish society — and that this is one of the prerequisites for the long-term sustainable financing of social welfare. That is absolutely right. But sustainable welfare requires sustainable integration — and sustainable integration requires trust, investment, and time.

Sweden is at a crossroads. The choices made today — in legislation, in rhetoric, and in how we treat the people who have made this country their home — will shape the Sweden of tomorrow. We can choose to see migration as a burden to be managed, or as a reality to be shaped wisely for the benefit of all.

The measure of a society is not how it treats those who are comfortable and established, but how it treats those who are most vulnerable and most in need of inclusion. Sweden has the knowledge, the resources, and — I believe — the values to get this right. This is not a technical debate. It is a question of political will and national character. — Eddy Kalyango.