Over the last quarter-century, Sweden has experienced a dramatic transformation—not just in its population makeup but also in its religious landscape. Since the year 2000, the number of mosques in the country has skyrocketed from just seven to around 300 in 2025, a staggering increase of nearly 4,200%.
And that figure only includes officially recognized, purpose-built mosques. If informal places of worship—like repurposed storefronts or basements—are counted, the number climbs even higher.
This explosion in Islamic religious infrastructure comes amid the closure of many churches and mounting questions about who’s footing the bill for these projects. According to Swedish outlet Samnytt, a sizable portion of mosque construction is being bankrolled by foreign donors from nations like Saudi Arabia, Iran, Qatar, and Turkey. The financial transparency of these ventures remains murky at best, with some mosques reportedly funded by billions in overseas contributions.
Tracking these developments isn’t easy. Sweden lacks an official registry of mosques, making it difficult to determine how many are currently active or even legally recognized. One long-standing example is Masjid Aysha, operated by the Scandinavian Islamic Organization in Stockholm, which has been around for two decades—yet may not be registered as a mosque at all.
Meanwhile, ambitious mosque-building efforts continue across the country. In Helsingborg, a project dubbed “Scandinavia’s largest mosque” has already raised over 68 million kronor (€6.3 million), much of it through social media fundraising. Celebratory videos posted online have raised eyebrows, especially those featuring chants of “Allahu Akbar” when fundraising milestones were hit.
Another major development is unfolding in Skärholmen, a Stockholm district, where construction is underway on what’s being billed as the biggest mosque in Northern Europe. That project, too, relies on a mix of taxpayer funding and foreign support. Controversy erupted when it was revealed the Turkish construction firm hired for the job has ties to the Islamist movement Milli Görüs—an organization previously criticized for harboring anti-democratic and anti-Semitic views.
Still, Swedish officials argue the mosque boom is simply a reflection of religious freedom. “We have countless churches and far fewer mosques,” said Stockholm’s Finance Mayor Karin Wanngård. “So of course we need more mosques for people to freely practice their faith.”
Yet the mosque construction trend is just one piece of a broader cultural shift that’s ignited fierce debate. In cities like Malmö, Muslims now represent a significant portion of the population. Pakistani-American theologian Yasir Qadhi even suggested that within a generation, half the city could be Muslim—attributing the shift to high birth rates among Muslim families and low fertility among native Swedes.
The changing face of Malmö has become symbolic for many Swedes concerned about rapid immigration and integration challenges. Ethnic Swedes are already a minority in Malmö’s school system, and some academics have controversially suggested that Arabic might be better suited than Swedish for classroom instruction.
Critics, particularly from Sweden’s right-wing Sweden Democrats party, see this as evidence of what they call the “Great Replacement”—a term used to describe the large-scale demographic shift in Sweden’s cities. Party leader Jimmie Åkesson has gone so far as to call for the demolition of certain mosques, arguing they serve as hubs for extremist ideology and anti-Western sentiment.
“It’s not a right to come here and build monuments to a foreign and imperialist ideology,” Åkesson told supporters. “Eventually, we must start tearing down mosques that promote anti-Swedish, homophobic, or anti-Semitic rhetoric.”
As Sweden wrestles with questions of identity, security, and social cohesion, the rapid rise of mosque construction has become a flashpoint in the nation’s ongoing debate over immigration, integration, and the future of its cultural fabric.
