By: Cornelia Walles
Each year on August 4, we mark the birth of Raoul Wallenberg: a man whose story still humbles and challenges me, even as someone at the beginning of her professional journey in the field of human rights.
Before joining the Raoul Wallenberg Institute last fall, I knew the broad strokes: he was a Swedish diplomat who helped save tens of thousands of Jews in Hungary during World War II. But the more I’ve learned, the more personal his legacy feels and the more I’ve come to appreciate what it means to work at an institute that carries his name.
Who Was Raoul Wallenberg?
Wallenberg wasn’t a traditional diplomat. He didn’t come from a long career in foreign service or law. He studied architecture, worked in international trade, and traveled the world. In many ways, he was a generalist, someone with curiosity, drive, and an evolving sense of justice shaped by experience.
In 1944, when Hungary’s Jewish population faced mass deportation, Wallenberg was sent to Budapest by the Swedish government with one mission: to help. What he did next was extraordinary. With little formal training but immense moral clarity, he issued thousands of protective passports, created safe houses, and intervened directly in Nazi operations to save people from deportation and execution.
Then, on January 17, 1945, he disappeared – detained by Soviet forces. He was never seen again.
It’s easy to let stories like this become mythic. But Wallenberg was human. That’s what makes his actions all the more remarkable.
A Briefcase in My Hometown
Not far from where I currently live in Helsingborg, there’s a sculpture tucked into a small park called Ångefärjeparken near the old ferry terminal: Attachéväska R W, the Raoul Wallenberg briefcase monument. I walked past it many times before I really knew what it meant.
The sculpture, by Gustav and Ulla Kraitz, is simple: a bronze briefcase, resting quietly on the ground. It’s a subtle but powerful reminder of what one person can carry into one of the darkest moments in our history.
When I visit now, I see it differently. This was where refugees arrived by boat during World War II, stepping into safety. The briefcase, symbol of Wallenberg’s mission, feels heavier than ever. And more hopeful.
I’ve included a photo of the sculpture in this post. It’s a piece of my city and a piece of a global story that still matters.
What It Means to Work at RWI
Raoul Wallenberg would have been 113 years old today. RWI was founded forty years ago in 1984. Even though I joined RWI less than one year ago, I feel the weight and responsibility of Wallenberg’s legacy in everything we do.
Whether it’s helping improve prison conditions in East Africa, supporting environmental justice in Southeast Asia, or innovating international humanitarian law compliance, his values are alive in our work.
We focus on five thematic areas:
- Rule of Law and Access to Justice
- Business and Human Rights
- Human Rights and the Environment
- International Humanitarian Law
- Non-Discrimination and Inclusion
We work in Lund and across the world, from Armenia to Zimbabwe, from Ukraine to Indonesia. It’s a diverse and dynamic network. But at the core, it’s about one thing: action.
What Wallenberg Still Teaches Me
The more I learn about Raoul Wallenberg, the more I realise he probably didn’t set out to be remembered. He saw what was happening and decided not to look away.
That, to me, is the heart of human rights work. Not always having the perfect solution, but being willing to step in. To act. To try.
So today, on his birthday, I’m remembering Raoul Wallenberg not just as a historical figure, but as a personal guide. A symbol of what can happen when courage, compassion, and quiet defiance come together.
Because if one person with a briefcase could save tens of thousands, maybe there’s something each of us can carry forward too.
Read more about Raoul Wallenberg here