- Sweden is deporting young adults who grew up in the country once they reach age 18.
- New 2023 rules no longer recognize ordinary parent-child relationships as valid grounds for residency.
- Over 2,000 young people face separation from their families and removal to countries they left as children.
(SWEDEN) — Sweden is deporting young people who grew up in the country after they turn 18, separating some from parents and siblings with permanent residency under migration rules that no longer treat ordinary parent-child relationships as grounds for residency in adulthood.
The policy, implemented in 2023, means young people who arrived as children but turned 18 before securing permanent residency are no longer considered part of their parents’ family unit. The Swedish Migration Agency considers residency based on parental ties only in “exceptional cases involving ‘special dependency’,” and a normal parent-child relationship does not qualify.
That shift has left many young adults facing deportation to countries they left years earlier, even after spending most or all of their childhood in Sweden. Some have jobs, studies, partners and families in the country, but authorities have still refused their applications.
Over 2,000 people between ages 18 and 21 have received deportation refusals. At least 90 confirmed teen deportations have been documented, though the actual number is likely much higher.
Young people have been deported to Iran, Egypt, Syria, Somalia and other countries despite growing up speaking Swedish and building their lives in Sweden. In some cases, they have lived in the country for most of their remembered lives and regard it as home.
The legal framework marks a harder line in a country that has tightened migration policy in recent years. Sweden has adopted some of the most restrictive migration policies in Europe, with the centre-right coalition government, which relies on votes from the right-wing populist party, tightening family reunification rules, raising income requirements and narrowing humanitarian protection grounds.
That broader shift has shaped how authorities handle permanent residency claims by young adults who arrived as minors. Once they pass the threshold into legal adulthood, family ties alone no longer protect them from removal unless authorities find special dependency.
Human Rights Watch says that approach may conflict with Sweden’s obligations under the European Convention on Human Rights and the Convention on the Rights of the Child. The group argues that failing to prioritize the best interests of the child and to protect private and family life in immigration decisions violates Sweden’s international legal obligations.
For families caught in the policy, the result is often abrupt. A young person can reach adulthood while an application is still pending, lose recognition as part of the family unit, and then face deportation alone while parents and siblings remain in Sweden.
Ilya Taheraki, 19, arrived in Sweden at age 8 after his family fled Iran. He applied for permanent residency at 15 but authorities rejected his application days after he turned 18.
Taheraki now works opening his mother’s hairdressing business in Stockholm and faces deportation to Iran. His case reflects how delays can carry lasting consequences when a child ages into adulthood before receiving a final decision.
Jomana Gad, 18, arrived in Sweden at age 4 and faces deportation to Egypt. “I have my whole life here,” she said, describing her hopes for education and work.
Ayla Rostami, 21, arrived at 15 and remembered Sweden as a place of freedom. She now faces deportation to Iran.
Romana, 19, was rejected by immigration authorities at 18 despite having her entire family, job, boyfriend and education in Sweden. “I learned Swedish. I have a boyfriend here. My whole family is here. My job is here. My studies here. And I want to contribute to society. But they say it’s not enough just because I’ve turned 18,” she said.
Isa, 21, from Iran, also faces removal. “I’m going to be deported there as a single woman without my family,” Isa said.
Daria and Da, sisters in their early 20s, were deported to Iran in October 2024 without their families or friends after starting vocational training in Sweden. “We’re afraid we’ll die. It’s chaos here,” they said.
Those cases span different ages and backgrounds, but they point to the same legal break: the move from child to adult status can end the residency claim that once depended on family ties. For many, the effect reaches beyond immigration status and into family life, work, study and daily belonging.
The issue has drawn attention in Parliament, but efforts to stop the removals have so far fallen short. On February 17, 2025, a multiparty proposal to stop the deportations failed to win a majority in the Parliamentary Committee on Social Insurance, even though parties across the political spectrum recognized that the practice separates families.
Parliament later rejected a permanent halt to the deportations with the ruling coalition’s approval. The government has said it will create a “legal safety valve” to stop deportations of teenagers in cases where the consequences would be unreasonable.
Even with that proposal, some removals have continued. Teenagers whose deportation had already been decided remain detained pending removal.
The clash between legal adulthood and long-settled family life sits at the center of the debate. Young adults who came to Sweden as children may have spent their school years there, learned Swedish, formed relationships and started work or training, yet still lose the right to stay once authorities stop recognizing routine parent-child relationships.
That has made permanent residency harder to obtain for people who believed their place in Sweden rested on the same family connection that brought them there as minors. When those ties no longer count after 18, years spent in the country may not shield them from deportation.
Human Rights Watch has called for Sweden to halt deportations that separate young adults from their families. The group also recommends that Sweden process children’s asylum cases without delays that cause them to age out of protection, create clear pathways to residency that reflect the years spent in Sweden, and reintroduce humanitarian grounds for “particularly distressing circumstances.”
Those recommendations reflect a wider concern that immigration procedures can produce life-altering outcomes through timing as much as through the underlying merits of a case. A child who waits too long for a decision may face adulthood under a stricter rule than the one that applied on arrival.
For the young people affected, the policy can mean removal to countries where they have few current ties. Some face deportation to Iran, Egypt, Syria or Somalia after growing up in Swedish schools and communities.
Several of the cases also show how the rule can split households. Parents may hold permanent residency while their son or daughter, now over 18, receives a refusal and faces removal alone.
That separation has sharpened criticism from rights groups, which say Sweden should weigh private and family life more heavily in these cases. Their argument rests not only on legal texts but on the fact that many of those ordered to leave have spent formative years in Sweden and regard it as the center of their lives.
The government’s proposed safety valve suggests officials recognize that some outcomes have raised concern. But as deportations continue, the practical effect of the policy remains visible in detention decisions, removals and the uncertainty facing families waiting to learn whether an exception will apply.
Young people confronting deportation have described Sweden, not the countries listed in removal orders, as the place where they belong. Their cases have turned the dry language of residency law into a dispute over who counts as family once a child becomes an adult in the eyes of the state.
For now, the legal line remains in place. Ordinary parent-child relationships no longer secure residency after 18, and many young adults who grew up in Sweden continue to face deportation despite long residence, permanent residency within their families, and lives rooted in the country.
Among the starkest voices are those already removed. After Daria and Da were deported to Iran in October 2024, they sent back a warning from the country they had been forced to return to: “We’re afraid we’ll die. It’s chaos here.”