Notes From Scandinavia

In late September, as I was preparing for spending most of October on tour in Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, I got an email from the good folks at the Slingshot Collective, asking me to contribute an article to the collective's longstanding radical newspaper.  I set about writing a piece on how we might endeavor to avoid a fascist future in the USA.  When I had a few days free in Copenhagen in between lots of gigs, I finished the article.  The basic premise is that the US left needs to stop arguing about who's more oppressed, and start organizing the working class, rather than letting the far right be the only ones doing that.

This, of course, is far easier said than done, given the dismal state of affairs in the dis-United States, with both the Democratic Party's mainstream as well as whatever passes for the left these days mainly offering some form of guilt-driven identity politics in response to the growing appeal of the far right, and the right's claim to represent the interests of the forgotten people, the working class.  Despite the recent growth of xenophobic political parties in parts of Scandinavia, and the widely-covered elections in Sweden that saw a center-right governing coalition come to power, there are many reasons why Scandinavia still has lessons to teach much of the rest of the world.

The more I have traveled over the decades, the more I have come to realize that while there are big regional and global trends and social movements, the socio-political situation in each country is distinct.  For example, we in the US associate the global justice movement with the last few years of the 1990's and the first few years of the 2000's, but in most of the rest of the world it started earlier and fizzled out much later.  In some parts of the world it never fizzled out at all.  And while platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube are used widely on both sides of the Atlantic (and most everywhere else where the platforms aren't banned for one reason or another), the tendency of these platforms to produce a misinformed, polarized population in places like the US and the UK seems to be far less pronounced in some other parts of the world, such as Scandinavia.

So, while the general atmosphere on the left in the US in particular is in recent years largely one of despair and resignation in the face of a rising neofascist threat and continually declining living standards for most people in the country (among other big problems), it's a very different atmosphere in Scandinavia.

This, of course, is from my vantage point.  If you talk to many people on the Scandinavian left, you'll hear about how things are sliding constantly in the wrong direction -- as with so many other countries in the world, the influence of US-style unregulated capitalism as a model for what they call "growth" is pervasive.  Scandinavian countries are not immune to things like banking scandals and calls to privatize formerly public things such as healthcare services, railway networks, and so on.  And as anyone who follows news from Scandinavia at all is aware, Scandinavian countries are also not immune to xenophobic ideologues rising to political prominence, and in Sweden's case, being part of the governing coalition.

I'm just back home in Oregon from spending 24 days traveling around Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, playing a concert most of those nights, usually in a different city or town, hanging out with a wide variety of people in between, who are generally people from the area, or folks living there.  I thought I'd write another wee travelogue about the tour, with an emphasis on some of the kinds of things that people from the US might find most interesting.

First of all, a general travel tip:  if you're ever traveling somewhere and renting a car to get around in for one reason or another, generally these car reservations can be canceled with no charge to you, so it's always a good idea to check on rental car prices again in the days just prior to your departure.  I did that, and discovered that prices for rental cars had gone way down since I reserved mine.  The Opel Corsa I drove all over Scandinavia in cost me $4 a day.  Cheapest car I ever rented.  Looking online at the time I rented the car, I noted that prices for rental cars were cheaper than I had ever seen, in all the major European cities I checked, but they were cheapest of all in Copenhagen.

If you're paying attention to news from Europe at all, or news from most of the world, for that matter, the cost of living crisis, particularly with concern to energy bills and the price of food (not at all unrelated), is given a lot of attention.  On the ground in Europe, I can say beyond any doubt that this stuff is very much on the minds of most people, and is affecting them personally.  Not necessarily quite the way folks from the US might imagine, though.  I've already mentioned how cheap rental cars are currently.  Gasoline is only a bit more expensive in Europe than it is in the US, as far as car travel goes.  Most of the price of gas is set by OPEC, and when it's as high as it currently is globally, the relatively high taxation in Europe doesn't raise the price that much more than you'd find in California.

Particularly in Denmark, the economic situation has affected folks in my circle of friends and acquaintances deeply.  Nobody I know is going hungry, but folks on limited incomes are dealing with the cost of heating their apartments quintupling.  The rise in interest rates has meant for some Danes I know that their mortgage payments have suddenly risen by hundreds of dollars a month, because they have Variable Rate (formerly known as Subprime) mortgages in Denmark, too.  In Norway, if the energy costs go up beyond a certain amount, folks tell me, the government pays for 90% of the bill, so the Norwegians are generally doing better in that regard, but the rise in the cost of gasoline and other commodities affects them, too, depending of course on their income and such.

Despite the economic situation, by my observation and by the observation of the business press, loads of people are still traveling.  As usual whenever I'm in Scandinavia, I didn't see some of my friends and colleagues because they were on holiday or otherwise traveling in some far-away tropical place.  Many Scandinavians are more familiar with southern Europe than they are with neighboring countries.  (Kind of like how someone from Ontario is more likely to have taken a trip to Florida than they are to have visited New Hampshire.)

Along with the economic situation generally, another constant topic that arose in my travels was related to elections -- both the election Sweden just had, and the brief election season that kicked off in Denmark, as it happened, a few days into my visit, on October 4th.  And then, of course, the ongoing war between neighboring Russia, and Ukraine.  Just before I boarded a plane to head to Copenhagen, the Nodstream pipeline had been bombed, just off the coast of the Danish island of Bornholm.  

While there was a general sense of impending doom related to the war in Ukraine, which doesn't tend to feel like something most people have any sense of agency to do anything about in Scandinavia, when it comes to the rise of rightwing political parties and ideas, or the tendency towards more privatizing of the commons, what is most striking to me throughout Scandinavia is the lack of resignation on the left.  People are engaged, and fighting for their future, in many different ways, and have not generally been overcome with the magnitude of the situation.  They are also living in a very different world from that which those of us in the US know.  There are no tent cities full of homeless Scandinavians, for example -- not one.

Which is not to say there aren't marginalized people dealing with unstable housing situations, disabilities of all kinds, addiction, and discrimination in many forms.  After singing at a small peace rally in front of the opening of the Danish parliament in Copenhagen on October 4th (when they announced the upcoming elections would be happening), my first concert for an indoor audience was the following day, in Denmark's second-biggest city, Aarhus.

The organizer of the gig, Pino, is very open about his struggles with housing and addiction in prior years, and he spends much of his time since I've known him working on behalf of other people dealing with stuff like that.  He often gives walking tours of Aarhus, telling people about how hard life is for some people in the city, recounting tales of police brutality -- sometimes right in front of the police station, much to the annoyance of some of the cops.  As you'll find in so many other cases if you look into a lot of things in Europe in particular, positions you might assume are volunteer are sometimes not. Talking to people about police brutality and marginalized people in Aarhus for Pino is a paying gig.

At the little gig Pino organized, in a one-room community center (not counting the bathroom) called Amok were a mix of local folks from my email list and friends of Pino's.  Pino's circles always include a variety of marginalized folks or others somehow or other involved with the social welfare system, and these days that means lots of Ukrainian refugees.  

Ukrainian refugees made up about half of the audience at that gig.  I would generally describe most of them as women younger than me, many with kids around the ages of my kids, and then a few older people as well, including a couple of men obviously far too old to be in the military.  Before my show, they were sitting inside Amok together, singing Ukrainian songs together.

There are punks in Kyiv, but these Ukrainians were not people you'd normally see in a place like Amok.  They all looked like they'd fit in better at the mall, judging from their nice clothes.  I wouldn't doubt that in most cases they were wearing the only jackets they had managed to leave Ukraine with, but they were nice jackets, not yet old enough since the war began to start to get ratty.  

One of the Ukrainians spoke good English, and was translating some conversation for me now and then.  (If I don't mention names it's because I'm erring on the side of caution, not because I don't remember her name.)  I asked her some questions that I'm always curious about these days when I meet Ukrainians.  Were there any draft-age Ukrainian men trying to get out of Ukraine?  No, she said, there weren't.  She was passionately in favor of resisting Russian aggression, but didn't seem offended by my question, anyway.  What did she think of the treatment of refugees in Denmark?  While she was impressed with how it was for her fellow Ukrainians, she was horrified to learn about how it was for the Muslim refugees from places like Syria and Afghanistan there in Aarhus.

At some point a Ukrainian woman came in, beaming from ear to ear, making an announcement to her friends in Ukrainian.  I asked what she said.  The translation came, that she had just gotten her own "permanent apartment" in Aarhus, as it was described.  I'm not sure of the exact arrangement there, but it sure sounds like stable housing.  She was a refugee, and had not been in Denmark for more than a few months at that point.  Prior to getting placed in an apartment, the Ukrainians are staying in a dormitory-style place with shared kitchens and bathrooms and such.  I asked if each of them has their own bedroom, and was told that they did, unless they had a kid, in which case they shared a room with the kid.

Back in Copenhagen the next day, I hear a lot from people about the rise in energy costs and the speed of gentrification.  At the anarchist infoshop, Bogcaféen Halmtorvet, the talk is about the prospect of needing to move to a different location.  And while other people had already mentioned the quintupling of their energy bills, Ronni at the infoshop has done the math, and it is cheaper to eat out at a lot of local restaurants than it is to cook at home.  Who knows what the future holds or how they do it, but the fact is, most restaurants are not raising their prices to reflect the soaring cost of keeping their ovens running.

Just recounting tidbits from my October travels chronologically, the next two gigs I had both represent something profound that you'll find in Scandinavian countries, and some others.  That is, very large community spaces that may have been more or less squatted initially, but which are now legal and supported in many ways by local authorities.  And let's also add that when I refer to "local authorities" in various corners of Scandinavia, we may be talking about one of the more left parties or coalitions of left parties.  The most left parties are often kept out of national government, but sometimes control local government.

First there was a trip across one of the world's longest bridges, from Denmark to Sweden, and further on to Jönköping, and a place called Kulturhuset, a massive old factory that's been fixed up at great expense since the last time I saw it, a few years ago.  There are dozens of rooms for all kinds of different activities, including performance spaces and workshops of all sorts.

The next day to a very small town about an hour's drive west of Copenhagen where you'll find another massive old ceramics factory called Makvärket that is being transformed into a center for all sorts of activities, very much along the line of the one in Sweden, but not quite as far along in the process. Makvärket is attracting more and more people who are moving to the area from Copenhagen, who are forming a wonderful scene around this huge community center, with lots of young children.

The next three gigs, taken chronologically, also can serve as an illustration of how nonsectarian the left can be.  One day I played at the bookstore of a small Danish communist party full of lovely people who, last I checked, still believe the Danish government should be overthrown.  The next afternoon I played for a fine collection of anarchist punks at a place by the side of the railroad tracks in the middle of a huge construction site in Aarhus called Sidesporet, and that evening at a well-attended event hosted by the furthest-left socialist party in the Danish parliament, Enhedslisten ("Unity List") which has been growing steadily ever since I first came to Denmark in the 90's.  Introducing me was Anne Hegelund, who is running for parliament, and likely to win.  The following day in Roskilde was another event hosted by Enhedslisten, with more speakers running for political office, along with a very successful Activist Speed-Dating session.

Enhedslisten and other organizations like the Socialist Youth Federation (SUF), together with community centers of all sorts with access to funding from various government agencies for cultural activities, make it possible for left ideas and culture to be propagated consistently.  The evidence of this phenomenon is overwhelmingly obvious, as demonstrated by the continual stream of new, young people at gigs in Scandinavia that are organized by such groups. 

The next two gigs, again taking this chronologically, were in large community centers in the center of two of Norway's biggest cities, Trondheim and Oslo.  Both of these social centers at some point burned down, and both were ultimately rebuilt at government expense.  Both are beautiful buildings with lots of rooms for all sorts of activities, including live concerts, of course.

I would often fly when including Trondheim in a tour.  It's at least a 6-hour drive from Oslo to Trondheim, and there's no real population center in between.  Norway is big, at least when traveling south or north.  My old friend and organizer of many things, Bjorn-Hugo, came down from Trondheim to Copenhagen to attend a couple events there and drive up to Trondheim with me.

On the way up, I discovered -- or rediscovered, perhaps -- another piece of infrastructure, not unique to Scandinavia but very popular there as well as created there, Spotify.  You may laugh, as I've had my music on the platform since it came into existence.  But I never truly became a user until the trip to Trondheim.  

In recent years it's become more and more clear that of all the different platforms where people might find music, Spotify is the one that does the best job of introducing new people to new music that they'll probably like.  I've long noticed this from the vantage point of the artist asking folks coming to a show for the first time how they discovered my music.  But as a user, driving up the coast of Norway, it became clear to me that Spotify's algorithms are amazing.  We listened mainly to psychedelic rock music from the 60's, starting with a fairly obscure band called July, and we proceeded to listen for hours to the most impressive selection of obscure psychedelic rock bands from the 60's you could ever hope for.

Along with the concert in Trondheim at the infamous UFFA punk rock community center, local organizers used the occasion of my visit to put on a protest rally in the center of town in support of Palestinians, against the ongoing atrocities being committed by the Israeli military in particular, the ongoing annexation of the West Bank, the ongoing siege of Gaza.  

While I wouldn't for a moment discount all the time and effort that went into planning the rally, what was especially notable about it was the stage setup, which bears describing in some detail.

In the beautiful center of the city of Trondheim, beside a large pedestrian-only area with space for thousands of people to gather, there is a covered stage with a built-in sound system. Anyone organizing an event can reserve the place and they'll be given a little training in how to use the equipment, and they'll be given a key to access it. Speakers, lights, and curtains can be lowered and moved around with buttons until you get everything the way you want it. By plugging a little mixing board into the sound system, and using the mic and mic stand provided, we had everything we needed for speakers, solo performers, or even bands, though the drummer has to bring their own drum set...

I've written in the past about Svartlamon, the community in the city of Trondheim I fell in love with a long time ago, where I've always stayed when I'm there.  Once a squatted neighborhood, now approved of and even publicized a bit by the municipality, it's not like places like Svartlamon are in every city, by any means, but it's hard to imagine places like Svartlamon or Christiania continuing to exist for decades on end in many other parts of the world.  As with the many other pieces of social and physical infrastructure that keep societies -- and subcultures, and social movements, and ideas -- alive and thriving, communities like Svartlamon play an outsized role in this never-ending process.

Two of the next three gigs I had were in venues called House of the People -- Folkets Hus.  The origin stories of different Folkets Huses vary, but they are always community centers, accessible by people in the community to put on events like concerts, community kitchens, and all sorts of other things.  The show at the Folkets Hus in the town of Smedjebacken was organized by an award-winning artist and political cartoonist, my old friend Julie Leonardsson.  

And Sweden, as it happens, makes itself a good place for cartoonists, journalists, editors and others involved in putting out a newspaper.  As I learned from one of the folks at one of the papers, if you have at least 2,000 subscribers, the Swedish government will pay for you to hire six full-time staff members.

Julie was also the husband of the late Anne Feeney, my old friend and touring partner, who met Julie a few years after we first became acquainted.  Along with visiting Julie and playing for a wonderful audience at the local Folkets Hus, I was on a mission to retrieve Anne's guitar from Julie, so it can eventually make its way to Anne's daughter, Amy Sue Berlin, in Texas, where it will be actively played by Amy, on and off stage, when it eventually makes its way all the way there from its current hideout in Copenhagen.

In Gothenburg the community center the brilliant Stockholm-based songwriter and another old friend and touring partner of Anne's, Jan Hammarlund and I played in was Marx Engels Huset, a very nice five-story building in the center of town owned by the Swedish Communist Party. 

The day before I flew home I was introduced up close to another piece of the Scandinavian infrastructure of the very well-established kind, one of the reasons why so much of the most cutting edge science comes out of Denmark, the Niels Bohr Institute.

The gig at the last of the Folkets Huses I played at, one with a particularly radical, 60's-era history to it, in the Nørrebro neighborhood of Copenhagen, featured a well-traveled audience.  Several folks came from across the bridge in Sweden, some travelers from Ireland came via Greece and Berlin, still with some Thessaloniki tear gas in their clothes, and from Germany and Massachusetts there were two climate scientists, with keys to the Institute.  Michael showed me around the mysterious-looking pieces of equipment with which he is intimately familiar, having to do with extracting ice cores in places like Greenland and Antarctica, and how they isolate the gases and examine the dust particles and figure out all kinds of stuff about how screwed we are at the present moment in geological time. 

I'm not sure how these little observations about the past month's travels might come across to folks in Scandinavia, but I'm pretty sure for most people in the US who haven't traveled much outside of the country, a lot of what I've described might sound like a very nice fantasy.  At the same time, I hope it also serves to explain a little why we have such a widespread problem with historical amnesia in the United States, so little continuity from one social movement to another, and why our social movements tend to be so spasmodic in nature.  We profoundly lack infrastructure.  Like we lack basically all the infrastructure I've been describing here.  That's the infrastructure that sustains people, maintains a certain degree of optimism, and allows communities to truly function as communities, rather than something we call a community, but only mean that in the abstract sense.