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Teysir Subhi. Photo: Jolene Larsén-Kilan.

Teysir Subhi: “I don’t think teachers can be completely apolitical”

Teysir Subhi is a teacher in Biskopsgården and a former party leader for the political party Feministiskt Initiativ, as well as a city council member in Gothenburg. One of her former students recently lost his life in a shooting. “It’s not a lack of knowledge holding us back. The research is crystal clear: long-term, preventative efforts is what most effectively reduces crime,” says Teysir Subhi.

You’ve written that middle school is too late to start anti-violence education—what steps need to be taken already in preschool to prevent violence in the long run?
— Anti-violence work in preschools doesn’t differ much from what we do with older students. It’s about building safe relationships, strengthening children's ability to empathize, and helping them understand and manage emotions. We also need to teach them the words to express their needs and resolve conflicts peacefully. At the same time, we must begin early to challenge harmful norms—like stereotypical ideas about gender and masculinity—which can lead to violence later in life.

Do you have any specific examples of how to work on empathy and conflict resolution with preschool-age children?
— I’ve seen powerful examples in middle school where, through Sweden’s “Kreativ skola” program (creative school), teachers used drama education and role-playing to explore core values. Students got the chance to step into others’ perspectives and reflect on their own actions. I’m convinced that similar methods, adapted for younger children, could work really well in preschool. It’s about using imagination, play, and storytelling to build empathy and social awareness.

You’ve also mentioned our Mentors in Violence Prevention (MVP) program. What were the clearest positive outcomes you saw during the pilot, and what’s holding back broader implementation today?
— Evaluations, including from the National Agency for Education, showed clear benefits: students became more aware of different forms of violence, were more willing to step in, and there was less tolerance for “just joking” forms of aggression. What’s stopping wider implementation now is mainly a lack of political will to prioritize long-term preventative measures. Many decision-makers struggle to see the link between what happens in classrooms and social issues like gang violence—even though that connection is strong. The young people being recruited into gangs are students—kids, really.

What do you think it would take to gain the political and institutional will to make anti-violence education a long-term part of schools’ mission, rather than a temporary project?
— It’s not a question of knowledge—we already know what works. The research is consistent: long-term, preventative approaches have the greatest impact on reducing crime. The problem is a political climate that’s obsessed with quick fixes, which are seen as more appealing to voters. I think we need to start viewing violence prevention as a shared societal project—something that requires long-term commitment, cross-party collaboration, and a clear 10–20 year plan.

How would you like to see teacher education change to better prepare educators for violence prevention work?
— For teachers, it’s largely about having the right conditions. If our teaching hours and surrounding responsibilities were better regulated, we’d have more room to bring in outside experts—like those from the Kreativ skola program—in a structured, long-term way. Right now, teachers are expected to carry a huge part of the values education burden, but we can’t be experts in everything. Our primary job is teaching. But with the right support and resources, we can build partnerships that really work.

You have a background as both a teacher and a politician. How do you view the balance between pedagogical and political responsibility when it comes to preventing youth violence?
— I’m no longer an active politician, but I don’t think it’s possible to be completely apolitical as a teacher. Schools are constantly shaped by political decisions—from curriculum changes to grading systems to resource allocation. Politics is present in the classroom every single day. Maybe that’s why I enjoy teaching so much—it’s dynamic, complex, and never boring.

Many schools struggle with limited resources. How can we ensure that violence prevention work doesn’t become just another burden, but rather a form of support?
— Lack of resources isn’t always about money. In some districts, it can mean too few qualified teachers, too much teaching time, and too little time for planning and preparation. Schools are supposed to be compensatory, but school choice has led to increased segregation and what’s often called “white flight,” making teaching even more challenging in certain communities. For anti-violence efforts to be supportive, we need to start talking about differentiation. That means differentiated regulations around teaching hours and prep time—especially in disadvantaged areas with higher socioeconomic needs.

What have the children you’ve taught said about safety and violence? How do their voices impact your commitment?
— Children are often very aware of what’s happening around them, but they need help putting their thoughts and feelings into words. After nearly ten years as a teacher, I’ve seen how vital it is that adults are present and give kids space to talk about tough topics—whether it’s gang violence, climate anxiety, or war. If we don’t, kids are left alone with their fears, which over time can lead to mental health issues. That’s why I see being present not as having all the answers, but offering stability and someone who listens.

You’ve mentioned harmful norms. What norms need to be challenged, and how can we do that in a way that resonates with young people?
— Many expressions of violence in society—whether we’re talking about gang violence, domestic abuse, or war—are rooted in destructive ideas of masculinity. From a young age, boys are taught not to show emotion, that crying is wrong, and that violence is a way to assert themselves. It’s a socialization into a culture of violence where the most violent person is seen as the most “manly.” We have to challenge that pattern early on—through conversation, role models, and a norm-aware approach in both preschools and schools.

If you could introduce one single political reform in Gothenburg today to prevent youth violence, what would it be—and why?
— I’d make violence prevention a permanent part of the education system—from preschool through high school. That would need to be supported by structural changes, such as regulating teachers’ teaching and prep time, and making lasting investments in reasonable child-to-teacher ratios. That’s the only way we can build a sustainable system where prevention isn’t a temporary project—but a natural part of everyday life.