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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

Why Denmark cares more than you think

Denmark has been on the end of some bad press recently, due in no small part to the loud voices of aggressive politicians and concerned citizens. But The Local's Michael Barrett argues that if you take a closer look – it’s not as bad as you think, even if you’re not a Dane.

Why Denmark cares more than you think
There is plenty to appreciate in Denmark - and not just the windmills. Photo: runtnikqueen/Flickr

Earlier this month, blogger Søren Kenner wrote at length on the current state of Danish politics, culture and society. For Kenner, Denmark no longer resembles the country he loved when he was a young man. If one dares to complain about Denmark, he says, they will be reminded that it is the ‘world’s happiest country.’

I would contend that most Danes see the ‘world’s happiest country’ claim for what it really is – a tired and meaningless cliché. All the same, the reality is not as bad as the bleak portrait set out by Kenner.

In his article, Kenner reels off a list of current affairs stories that, in his view, reflect today’s Denmark – and presumably would never have happened during the unspecified golden age of modern Danish history to which he nostalgically refers.

See also: 'Denmark is no longer the country I loved'

Strict visa rules that have resulted in the deportation of hard working students are contrasted with the case of an underworld crime boss from Croatia, whose family has been in the country for 42 years. The latter case has been referred to the Supreme Court, which has so far has not deported the criminal ringleader from Denmark – despite overwhelming public support for this. The two cases are patently different in nature.

Kenner mocks the ‘left-wing’ criticism of recent government reforms reducing the cost of buying large cars without offering any kind of counter argument. Indeed, the obvious argument for reducing tax on cars – and the one put forward by the government itself – is to stimulate growth, which Kenner claims to be ‘dead as a stone’. In fact, the economy saw growth in 2015, albeit less than the optimistic predictions of politicians.

A lack of funding for hospitals is compared to media grants in order to support the argument that state funds are being wasted. Everyone – from the country’s tax authority to the media to absurd, but ultimately inconsequential decisions by local authorities – are on the receiving end of Kenner’s wrath in what has been described as an ‘epic rant’. I see it as more of a long-winded moan.

It is not my aim to list Kenner’s grievances one-by-one and attempt to debunk them all – to do that would serve no other purpose than to pour more negative fuel on to the fire of pessimism.

Even if I did, there are some genuine reasons for concern and Kenner succeeds in pointing them out – one such example being the problematic and controversial Freedom of Information Law (Offentlighedsloven) which enables politicians to censor records from the public with far greater impunity than in any other country. The Danish media recently revealed that the new law is already being used enthusiastically by Denmark’s MPs. This is a clear democratic problem in what is often declared the least corrupt nation in the world

References to the challenges faced by Denmark in dealing with the refugee crisis are, of course, also entirely valid.

Local municipalities are struggling to deal with the strain of having to house refugees. The central government however seems less concerned about this than projecting what they see as a hardline image to the voters they believe will keep them in power. The result is under-funded municipalities, outrageous policies that do not tackle practical problems and a distorted perception of the refugees themselves. There is a chasm in public opinion on the best way to cope with the refugee flow, which, as Kenner himself says, Denmark is powerless to stop, at least for the time being.

It is clear, then, that Denmark faces challenges, economically, socially and politically. But listing these challenges along with a number of poor individual decisions and opinions you don’t agree with will not make them go away. Engagement with some of them might help, though.

Denmark still has democracy and a free press – these can be used to fight for improvements. The Freedom of Information Law can be fought against by supporting politicians who oppose it.

The country’s taxes are the highest in the world – but university education up to postgraduate level is still paid for by state coffers and public healthcare is still available for everyone.

Despite its ridicule at the recent COP21 climate conference – after which, incidentally, the government made positive changes to its green policies – Denmark is still a world leader in sustainable energy, with the island of Samsø set to become the world’s first fossil fuel-free community.

Despite the belligerent rhetoric and shock-tactic policies of politicians like Inger Støjberg, and recent sweeping cuts to the welfare provided, Denmark has taken in a significant number of refugees, many of whom now speak Danish and are finding work or applying for higher education.

And civil society can – and does, to an overwhelming and heartwarming extent – help refugees and other vulnerable people when government funding and policy leaves them out in the cold. It is this kind of contact with the outside world that will help Danes to see through the gloom that is presented to them through their computer and mobile phone screens, and to recognise the goodwill that is still there.

It may be winter, and the international as well as domestic political climate may be cold, dark and harsh – but dismissing Denmark as ‘no longer the country it once was’ is reductive and evident of a worrying lack of faith in a country that is supposed to have been so great in the recent past.

To give him his dues, Kenner is not entirely negative. He admits, with more than a hint of irony, that ‘all those windmills sure do look nice’. Perhaps that’s a matter of opinion. But if you think they do look nice, then it would do no harm to appreciate them.

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OPINION AND ANALYSIS

OPINION: Down with Danish hygge – Sweden’s mys is more real, fun and inclusive

Hygge, the Danish art of getting cosy, has taken the world by storm. But the Swedish equivalent is refreshingly different, says David Crouch 

OPINION: Down with Danish hygge - Sweden’s mys is more real, fun and inclusive

It is around seven years since the Danish word hygge entered many of our languages. Hygge, pronounced hue-guh and generally translated as the art of cosiness, exploded almost overnight to become a global lifestyle phenomenon.

Hygge dovetailed with mindfulness and fed into other popular trends such as healthy eating, and even adult colouring books. “The Little Book of Hygge” became a publishing sensation and has been translated into 15 languages. It was swiftly followed by a second book from its author, “My Hygge Home”, one of dozens on the market. 

There is nothing wrong with new ways to relax, and certainly no harm in identifying them with Scandinavia. But as a guide to living your life, there are some problems with hygge

First, the original meaning of the word is too broad and subtle to enable a clear grasp of the concept among non-Danes. This probably helps to explain its appeal – hygge is an empty bottle into which you can pour whatever liquid you like.

Patrick Kingsley, who wrote a book about Denmark several years before the hygge hype, was “surprised to hear people describe all sorts of things” as hygge. Danes, he said, would use the word when talking about a bicycle, a table, or even an afternoon stroll. 

So it is hardly surprising that, outside Denmark, hygge is applied rather indiscriminately. Last week the New York Times devoted an entire article to achieving hygge while riding the city’s subway, of all places. “A train, after all, is basically a large sled that travels underground, in the dark,” it said, trying too hard to find a hint of Nordic-ness on the overcrowded railway.

READ ALSO: Danish word of the day – hyggeracisme

Hygge has become an exotic and mysterious word to describe more or less anything you want. It is as if someone decided that the English word “nice” had a magical meaning that contained the secret to true happiness, and then the whole non-English speaking world made great efforts to achieve the perfect feeling of “nice”. 

A second problem with hygge is that, in Denmark itself, it seems to operate like a badge of Danishness that can only be enjoyed by Danes themselves – a kind of cultural border that outsiders cannot cross. You can walk down a Danish street in the dark, one journalist was told, look through the windows and spot who is Danish and who is foreign just by whether their lighting is hygge or not.

When writer Helen Russell spent a year in Denmark, she was intrigued by hygge and asked a lifestyle coach about it. “It’s hard to explain, it’s just something that all Danes know about,” she was told. How could an immigrant to Denmark get properly hygge, Russell asked? “You can’t. It’s impossible,” was the unhelpful reply. It can’t be a coincidence that the far-right Danish Peoples Party has put a clear emphasis on hygge, as if immigration is a threat to hygge and therefore to Danish-ness itself. 

READ ALSO: It’s official – Hygge is now an English word

Outside Denmark, this exclusivity has taken on another aspect: where are all the children? Where amid the hygge hype are the bits of lego on the floor, the mess of discarded clothes, toys and half-eaten food, the bleeping iPads and noisy TVs? “Hygge is about a charmed existence in which children are sinisterly absent,” noted the design critic for the Financial Times. It’s as if the Pied Piper of hygge has spirited them away so you can get truly cosy. 

But there is a bigger problem with hygge. It is largely an invention, the work of some clever marketing executives. After spotting a feature about hygge on the BBC website, two of London’s biggest publishers realised this was “a perfect distillation of popular lifestyle obsessions”. They set out to find people who could write books for them on the subject, and so two bestsellers were born, spawning a host of imitations. 

Sweden has a different word that means roughly the same thing: mys (the noun) and mysig (the adjective). There have even been some half-hearted attempts to sell mys to a foreign audience in the same way as hygge. But the real meaning of mys in Swedish society is rather different, it seems to me. The reason for this, I think, is that mys has become so firmly identified with Friday nights, or fredagsmys – the “Friday cosy”. 

Fredagsmys is a collective sigh of relief that the working / school week is over, and now it is time for the whole family to come together in front of some trashy TV with a plate of easy finger-food. The word first appeared in the 1990s, entered the dictionary in 2006, and became a semi-official national anthem three years later with this joyous ad for potato crisps:

In this portrayal, mys is radically different to hygge. It is a celebration of the ordinary, witty and multi-cultural, featuring green-haired goths and a mixed-race family with small children. Food is central to fredagsmys, and what is the typical food of choice? Mexican, of course! Not a herring in sight.

Why Mexican? It seems nobody is really sure, but tacofredag now has roots in Swedish society. Tacos, tortillas, and all the accompanying spices and sauces take up a whole aisle of the typical Swedish supermarket. Swedes are accustomed to eating bread with various bits and pieces on top, according to a specialist in Swedish food culture, while the Swedish tradition of smörgåsbord (open sandwiches) makes a buffet meal seem natural. The fussiness of tacos is even reminiscent of a kräftskiva crayfish party.

There is no cultural exclusivity here. On the contrary, fredagsmys food could equally be Italian, North American, Middle-Eastern, British or French. And children are absolutely central to a good Friday cosy. 

With Swedish mys, everybody is welcome. Get cosy and relax, but do it by mixing and getting messy, rather than retreating into pure, perfect, rarified isolation. There is a time and a place for hygge. But the Swedish version is more real, more fun, and more inclusive.

David Crouch is the author of Almost Perfekt: How Sweden Works and What Can We Learn From It. He is a freelance journalist and a lecturer in journalism at Gothenburg University.

 
 
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