20,000 adults in Denmark barred from voting in elections

Nearly 20,000 adults living in Denmark—equivalent to the population of a mid-sized Danish town—are excluded from voting in the upcoming parliamentary election because they lack citizenship, according to figures from Statistics Denmark. The number has grown by roughly 5,000 in six years, partly due to tightened citizenship rules.

Among them is 24-year-old Medina Sabic, born and raised in North Jutland to Bosnian parents. After dropping out of high school in 2019, she was denied both permanent residency and citizenship—despite later completing a vocational education and now working for the Danish Agency for Governmental IT Services. Under current rules, she cannot apply for citizenship until her 30s.

“You’re not considered fully Danish, even if you feel Danish,” Sabic told public broadcaster DR. “Others decide what happens to my future and to people like me. I have no voice in this country.” She described the exclusion as “a form of bullying,” adding: “You’re stuck in a situation where you can’t do the same things as everyone else.”

Lene Holm Pedersen, a political science professor at the University of Copenhagen and co-leader of the government’s Power Investigation—a study on the state of Danish democracy—called the disenfranchisement a democratic concern.

“It’s a problem, just as it was when women were denied the vote, because you’re excluding a large group,” Pedersen said. While she acknowledged that parliament democratically sets voting rules, she noted that Denmark’s 1849 constitution initially granted suffrage to only a small minority—“undoubtedly a less democratic society by today’s standards.”

Several parties have proposed further tightening citizenship requirements ahead of the election. The Danish People’s Party and Liberal Alliance advocate pausing new citizenship grants, while Integration Minister Rasmus Stoklund (Social Democrats) told Zetland he would not rule out a halt. The Conservative Party wants to end automatic citizenship for children of naturalised parents, requiring more young people to apply individually, and introduce “screening interviews” to assess applicants’ democratic values.

Conservative political spokesperson Mette Abildgaard defended the stricter rules, arguing they target “those with fundamentally undemocratic values, such as calls to erase Israel or antisemitic beliefs.” She dismissed concerns about the 20,000 disenfranchised adults: “The requirements—education, employment, self-sufficiency, no criminal record—are reasonable. They demand persistence, but that’s fair for those seeking citizenship.”

Sabic, who must wait until 2028 to reapply for permanent residency, criticised the system for penalising those already integrated. “The rules should target people who don’t want to be part of society,” she said. “Instead, they hit those of us who are integrated, who live like everyone else.”

Under current law, children born in Denmark to non-citizen parents do not automatically receive citizenship. The process requires first obtaining permanent residency, then waiting years before applying for naturalisation—a timeline Sabic called psychologically taxing, particularly after her initial residency rejection. “It’s not fair that I’m punished for being young and uncertain about my path just because I don’t have a red [Danish] passport,” she said.