
Culture & the Family
Sweden taught me the value of work—without a minimum wage
Tucker Cross | June 19, 2025
From the ages of 10 to 17, I lived in Sweden. I was a public school student, learned the language, adapted to the culture, and lived the life of an ordinary Swedish child. This background surprises people when I say that Sweden, for all the American Left’s praise of it as a "democratic socialist utopia," is actually in many ways more pro-market and more capitalistic than parts of the United States.
Case in point: Sweden does not have a national minimum wage.
Instead, wages are negotiated by unions and employers in a system that allows for tremendous flexibility. As a young person, I could legally work for less than what American politicians are now proposing as a “fair” wage—and I’m grateful I could.
My first job in Sweden was delivering Sunday newspapers. I was 10 or 11. My parents found a local opportunity, and every weekend I would ride my bike to the store, pick up a bundle, and begin my rounds. For every newspaper I sold, I kept 20 percent—roughly 20 cents in local currency.
That may sound like exploitation to an American policymaker. To me, it was gold. I was cold-calling door to door. Most people weren’t interested. I fumbled through broken Swedish. I was anxious and scared. But I learned.
I learned which houses always said yes and which to skip. I learned to speak more clearly. I optimized my route. I got better.
But then I quit. It didn’t feel worth it. My time, I thought, was too valuable. A classmate eagerly took my route—and to my amazement, within weeks, he was earning far more than I had. He brought more value to the table than I did. He worked harder and smarter. That experience stuck with me.
The job wasn’t the problem. The wage wasn’t the problem. I was the problem.
And the lesson I learned—about value, effort, responsibility, and humility—has shaped me ever since. I remember one weekend I didn’t show up to pick up the papers. I just didn’t feel like it. My boss called. My parents found out. It was humiliating. But it was important. That moment of accountability meant something.
If there had been a government-mandated minimum wage, none of this would have happened.
If there had been a government-mandated minimum wage, none of this would have happened. That job wouldn’t have existed. I wouldn’t have had the chance to fail, grow, or eventually move on to better opportunities—just like my classmate did.
Here in Oklahoma, lawmakers are once again debating minimum wage increases. It sounds compassionate. It polls well. But who really benefits?
Yes, some workers will see a short-term pay bump. But others will be priced out entirely—especially the young, the unskilled, and the inexperienced. The very people who most need that first rung on the ladder will find it sawed off beneath them.
We like to think we’re helping. But all we’re doing is making it illegal for people to accept work that might pay less than an arbitrary number politicians picked to look good.
We say, “No one should work for less than $15 an hour.” But who are we to say what someone’s labor is worth? In reality, what we’re saying is: “If your labor isn’t worth $15 to an employer, then you can’t work at all.”
The consequences are invisible. Nobody sees the job that never gets created. Nobody sees the teenager who never gets hired. Nobody sees the would-be entrepreneur who can’t afford help.
People cheer for NBA players who make millions—and rightly so. They provide value. The market rewards that. But the same principle applies at every level. People get paid according to the value they bring. If someone can’t yet bring $15 an hour of value, then they need experience, mentorship, and time—not a law that blocks them from ever getting started.
That’s the difference between equality of outcome and equality of opportunity. The American promise has never been about guaranteed income. It’s about opportunity—the freedom to try, to fail, and to try again. It’s about being allowed to prove yourself.
And that’s exactly what the minimum wage denies.
There is no minimum wage for the small business owner who works around the clock. There’s no limit to their sacrifice—and no guarantee of reward. They create value so others can earn a living. They take the risk. And yet we’re ready to punish them, again and again, with mandates that make hiring harder and growth less feasible.
Raising the minimum wage doesn’t punish billionaires. It punishes the teenager trying to get started. It punishes the immigrant family who wants to open a shop. It punishes the struggling diner trying to keep the doors open.
Value—not sentiment—should drive our decisions.
I’m grateful I got to work for 20 cents a paper. I’m grateful I got to fail. And I’m grateful that, in that small way, I learned that I could do better.
We should want the same opportunity for our kids. Instead, we keep taking it away from them.

Tucker Cross
Contributor
Tucker Cross is a fifth-generation Oklahoman and a graduate of OCPA’s J. Rufus Fears Fellowship program. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in Letters with a minor in Spanish from the University of Oklahoma, graduating magna cum laude. Raised partly in Europe and fluent in Swedish, Tucker spent over a decade in the oil and gas industry before shifting his focus to education and agriculture. He currently operates a family produce farm in the Oklahoma City metro and serves as the headmaster of a small classical Christian school. Previously, he served as Director of Policy and Research for the Oklahoma State Department of Education. His interests include economics, public policy, theology, and the humanities. He and his wife, Tran, live in central Oklahoma with their two children.