Would Swedes Have Accepted Bombings to Halt Hitler’s War Machine?
On Allied Plans and Efforts to Disrupt the Iron Ore Trade
Would Swedes Have Accepted Bombings to Halt Hitler’s War Machine?
Imagine a quiet evening in Luleå, northern Sweden, in the early 1940s. Families finish their dinners as radios hum with news from war-torn Europe—Paris has fallen, London is burning. In the distance, the iron ore trains roll steadily, bound for Germany’s factories. For Swedes, this trade is routine, a neutral country’s lifeline. But to Britain’s leaders, each shipment is blood-red iron, “the single most valuable neutral contribution to Germany’s war effort,” prolonging Hitler’s devastating campaigns.
Neutrality protected Sweden from bombs that flattened neighboring cities. Yet neutrality, as Winston Churchill thundered, meant “ignoring the greater moral issues,” fueling Nazi atrocities. Churchill argued that cutting off Sweden’s iron ore was “a major offensive operation of the war,” necessary to cripple Germany’s capacity to fight. But the Allies never crossed the line into bombing Swedish mines or railways. The question lingers: had they done so, would Swedes have understood—perhaps even approved?
Sweden’s iron mines at Kiruna and Gällivare produced over ten million tons of ore annually, supplying Germany with nearly half its imported iron. The quality of Swedish magnetite, with iron content between 55 and 70 percent, was unmatched, crucial for high-grade steel and precision weaponry. As Nazi Admiral Raeder starkly admitted, without this supply it would be “utterly impossible to make war.”
Yet Sweden found itself in a perilous balancing act. Surrounded by Axis-controlled Norway and Denmark, Swedish diplomats quietly admitted they feared invasion if trade stopped. German troops even transited Sweden by rail—controversially breaching neutrality—to reinforce occupied Norway. Sweden’s government insisted these concessions were survival strategies, compromises necessary to preserve national sovereignty.
Still, for the Allies, Sweden’s iron ore trade was intolerable. British MP Sir Ralph Glyn famously claimed in 1939 that ending Swedish ore exports would “end the war within months.” Churchill pushed relentlessly for decisive action. Britain considered sending warships deep into Baltic waters or bombing the port facilities at Narvik and Luleå. One scheme, code-named “Project Catherine,” would have deployed naval forces directly into Sweden’s export channels. Another, in early 1940, involved invading Norway and Sweden under the guise of aiding Finland against the Soviets—secretly planning to seize the iron mines themselves.
None of these direct military interventions materialized. Instead, subtler operations unfolded: Allied submarines and warships attacked iron-ore carriers at sea, sinking around seventy vessels and killing nearly two hundred sailors. Norwegian resistance sabotaged rail lines linking Kiruna to Narvik, temporarily reducing shipments. But these actions barely dented Sweden’s ore exports—ships continued to sail, and trains kept rolling, largely uninterrupted.
By 1943, Allied patience wore thin. American Secretary of State Cordell Hull insisted Sweden “stand up for her rights” and use iron exports as leverage. Diplomatic pressure intensified, eventually compelling Sweden to scale back dramatically. By November 1944, shipments halted completely under Allied insistence. Yet, even as Sweden’s exports dwindled, no Allied bombs fell on Swedish soil.
Consider, for a moment, the hypothetical bombing raids that never happened. Had Allied aircraft attacked Swedish railroads, mining towns, and port facilities, Swedish civilians—previously sheltered by neutrality—would have suddenly faced war's direct horrors. Families would have cowered in shelters, children frightened by air raid sirens, homes reduced to rubble. Would Swedes, knowing the murderous reality of Hitler’s regime, have accepted these raids as necessary sacrifices? Or would they have viewed them as unjustified assaults by foreign powers, invasions of their carefully maintained peace?
Historical examples from occupied neighbors suggest complex answers. Norwegians endured devastating Allied bombings aimed at German positions, yet few welcomed such raids—rather, they grimly endured them, understanding them as tragic necessities. Swedes, largely shielded from wartime destruction, might have reacted similarly—sympathetic to Allied aims but bitterly resentful of violence inflicted upon them.
This uncomfortable thought experiment offers deeper insights about how nations rationalize war and intervention. Today, Western narratives frequently justify bombing far-off countries as necessary liberation, presuming that oppressed civilians welcome such destruction. Yet when turned inward, the logic collapses. Few Swedes, even with full knowledge of Nazi horrors, would likely have consented willingly to bombing their towns and homes. The universal truth remains: violence imposed from abroad is seldom greeted as liberation, no matter the oppressor’s cruelty.
Sweden’s wartime choices remain controversial precisely because neutrality provided comfort, insulating its citizens from immediate moral dilemmas and physical suffering. However, the iron ore trade undeniably prolonged Germany’s ability to wage war. The Allies never directly attacked Swedish territory, partly due to diplomatic considerations, partly from reluctance to bomb a neutral nation. Had bombs fallen, Sweden might have bitterly contested Allied claims of moral necessity, highlighting how easily violence’s justification falters when the target is ourselves.
Ultimately, Swedes likely would not have welcomed bombs—regardless of knowing the full scope of Hitler’s evils—because destruction, suffering, and loss inflicted from the outside rarely find acceptance, no matter how noble the cause. This stark realization challenges our contemporary comfort with remote warfare, underscoring the dangerous ease with which we rationalize violence elsewhere, violence we would fiercely reject at home.