We were invited to the San Felipe Pueblo, Katishtya, New Mexico, where we attended the Green Corn Dance. The Pueblo of San Felipe is a Native American tribe part of the Keresan speaking people. In the town square, a group of twenty or so men stood in the centre, singing, to the beat of a gigantic pounding drum. Hundreds of dancers circled the singers, using gourd rattles to accompany the beat. Many held sprigs of evergreen. The male dancers wore white buckskin moccasins, white kilts and red body paint. The upper torso, arms and legs of the men were nude. The female dancers had black shawls, red belts and were barefooted. Dust covered the thousands of spectators who stood quietly watching the dance, in front of their houses, from balconies, rooftops and the alleys leading to the square. Their insistence on not transforming it into a tourist extravaganza – by not marketing it, and by prohibiting the use of cameras, sketching or recording equipment – made the celebration unique. Being among the few non-natives in the pueblo, my girlfriend and I might perhaps have felt a bit out of place, but there was neither any extraordinary hospitality granted us, nor a trace of hostility from anyone we talked to.
As it happened, our return to Oslo coincided with anther annual celebration, the 17th of May celebrations of the Norwegian nation. The day officially marks the signing of the Norwegian Constitution of 1814. It has become an event with flag-waiving schoolchildren in parades and grown-ups dressed in their traditional costumes, the bunad. Different districts of Norway have their own distinct bunad. In Oslo the parades pass the King’s Castle, where the royal family stands on the balcony each year, waving to the crowds below. National television covers the celebrations from all over the country. The Norwegian constitution from 1814 has, of course, been revised a number of times. Two thirds of the original constitution was preoccupied with regulating what kind of king Norway ought to have, what religion the King should have, and how he should behave. The other paragraphs of the Constitution made the error of establishing an official state church, and took great care to specify that no Jews or Jesuits should be allowed to enter the kingdom. The Constitution was apparently written by a tribe completely ignorant of such thinkers as Jefferson, Lafayette, Voltaire, Montesquieu and Franklin. My return to the Norwegian nation put my experiences of our American road trip in another perspective.
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We drove from New York to San Diego and back. Driving, day after day within this enormous Superpower, the vastness of the continent started to sink in. We drove as far as we could get in a day, through landscapes that seemed untouched by humans. At night we found a motel. With all our belongings for the trip in the trunk of the car, we could have continued driving forever. After a while, some sort of calm sunk over us, and we were no longer talking and discussing things, like we usually do. It was as if we had achieved some sort of mysterious fusion of identities. Thinking back, it seems perverse that we could sit, silently, all day in that rented car. At some point we somehow kept our secrets to ourselves and became a duo of alien intelligence officers, roaming around for the quintessential American experience. But we were not really undercover. Everyone immediately took us for overseas cosmopolitans. My girlfriend looking like an Ethiopian Empress wearing huge sunglasses, odd rigs on her fingers. And I, with my long hair, was always being asked how old I was when buying cigarettes. That distrust flattered me, though. Despite the strong-willed enforcement of tobacco laws, I have never travelled in a country where I have met a more informal and kind people.
At night, when we went to sleep, I had a recurring dream from the road, immediately after closing my eyes. I travelled through a landscape, continuing in the same speed as I had done by day. Sitting behind the wheels strained me – but that was nothing compared to the stress of my dreams. I was suspended in air. The car was a spaceship. Objects passed by. Lunch was presented by pink-skinned highway patrol officers with cowboy hats. Nature was morphing, constantly taking on new shapes. Canyons transformed themselves into skyscrapers, clouds crystallized into traffic choppers over L.A., then became eagles. Waking up, I was exhausted. At the end of our journey I started longing desperately for Manhattan again, just to be able to stop. I imagined getting there, slurping a life-saving espresso, sitting down at a café and feeling the warmth from a thousand strangers. And that was exactly what happened.
Back in New York, walking the streets after returning our car to the rental office, we could relax. Taking the A-train out to Brooklyn, walking past down-and-out crack heads, we found sanctuary with our wonderful Mom. Although she was concerned about kidnappings in Trinidad and the like, she was doing just fine. Sitting in the kitchen, talking gossip from New York and the Islands with Mom and Lisa, we felt at home. We worked hard to secure promises of life-saving curry powder shipments. In the living room, I remember seeing the flags of both the United States and Trinidad and Tobago. According to sociologist Zygmunt Baumann, every individual of our family ought to be having a crisis of identity because of conflicting loyalties, globalisation and the like. Not a trace of any such thing. The only people having a crisis are those who have made it their business to knead the identity of others.
The day after, back in Manhattan, it was the beginning of May, people looked exhausted. They were pale and bewildered. The sun broke through the clouds. Could it be, that summer finally was arriving in New York, this year as well? One should never take this event for granted. You could sense a feeling of relief at Union Square. My girlfriend took dozens of pictures with her digital camera. Viewing them now, on my laptop, I’m surprised by how diverse the population of this city really is. More than any other city in the world, it has this extreme polarity of human character traits. (I was actually reminded of that bar scene in the first Star Wars movie.) New York, despite it’s clean and well functioning appearance, has that crispy, in-your-face projection of individual autonomy, which I love.
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Back in Norway, one of the first things I was confronted with was a series of articles in Norwegian media concerning the future of the Norwegian nation. While I was away, Bjørgulv Braanen, the chief editor of the far left daily Klassekampen, wrote:
“The Norwegian ‘nationalism’ has always been marked by popular, democratic and radical support. The Left should continue this support, especially in a situation where Capital attacks all political, social, cultural and national barriers that stand in the way of an uncontrolled accumulation of riches in the hands of the most wealthy.”
And consider his following piece of classical, leftist realpolitik:
“If the Left abandons the fight for the national identity, it will abandon a vital area of politics to the Right. This could be disastrous. That’s why we tomorrow [on the 17th of May] are going to sing the Norwegian national anthem ‘Ja vi elsker’ with great exultation.”
(You can read the words of that silly national anthem here.) Klassekampen represents the part of the Norwegian Left that never takes a clear position when it comes to religion or nationalism. If religious or nationalistic sentiments could be used for the gain of their Leftist cause, they would undoubtedly make use of it. This type of Left seeks power of other individuals’ culture and spirituality, which therefore makes their political stance no better than the right-wing elements who have the same thought-control approach.
I’m not a part of that Norwegian Left.
Ole Jørgen Anfindsen, a Christian theorist who on his website has expressed that he thinks that the United States of America “won’t survive this century unless it confronts the American immigration crisis”, also wrote hymns to the Norwegian nation while I was - in fact - standing in Union Square, Manhattan, enjoying that same American “crisis.” Concerning Norway, he wrote that too much "fresh blood" could dissolve Norwegians as an ethnic group. What a compassionate consideration he shows for the biological welfare of “my” group! Anfindsen wrote he wanted to see more “scientific research” in order to establish “if it was possible” that people of different ethnic backgrounds could be able to live together, side by side in peace. Our small US road trip made me loath such prejudice even more.
A friend wrote me an e-mail and tipped me off of another jubilant outburst from a Norwegian patriot in connection with the 17th of May. The quote went like this:
“One has to choose … Love of the fatherland is inseparable from the fact that Norway is a Christian nation. The battle of Stiklestad was not some event in a distant past: It is the recognition of King Olav as the eternal King of Norway [Saint Olaf of Norway]. Those who visit Nidarosdomen today still feel the presence of King Olav’s spirit.”
And thus he concluded:
“Norway as a nation is built on the fact that we have a Christian tradition.”
Naturally, I suspected these words were written by a member of a neo-nazi cult, but it turns out that the quote stemmed from Hans Rustad, the editor of the website Document.no. This site is officially dedicated to political analysis, but is practically dominated by commentators preoccupied with “defending” the nation from Islamism.
Funny how these people, when confronted with an ideology complete with “prophets” and demands of strict loyalty to rigorous values, choose to counter this menace by thinking: “Well, why don’t we revive our old prophets and demand loyalty to our national values!” After Rustad’s triumphant column on Norway’s Christian roots, an outright nationalistic and racist group called Norgespatriotene decided to link to Document.no from its front-page. The nationalists also wrote a unambiguous recommendation of the site, to Rustad's despair.
The 17th of May certainly seemed to inspire a lot of odd patriotism this year. Even the writer Nils Rune Langeland wrote a nostalgic piece about the Norwegian nation in the conservative weekly Dag og Tid, with formulations such as:
“In the future, we will realize what a civilizational luxury it was to have a homogenous nation state.”
Langeland seams to be of the opinion that the nation state is the ideal entity of politics and vigorous citizenry. Now he too fears that “we” will be conquered by immigration.
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Of course, I wish these fellows all the best of luck with their identity projects. May they enjoy their tribal symbols and seek guidance from Jesus, the Spirit of Saint Olaf or whatever divine creature they choose. I’ve spent a fair amount of time debating their opinions over the past year. I’ve done so – not because I give a damn about their culture, or their faith – but because I wholeheartedly disagree with their underlying presumption: That ethnicity ought to be at the centre of politics.
Many of the important debates raging the European public these days are witness to an embarrassing lack of resolve in dealing with different versions of nationalism. Confronted by religious terrorism and problems of integration, a segment of the European public prefers to look back towards their old national and religious symbols. But there is an alternative strategy available: Europe could concentrate on giving fundamental rights to – and serve – individuals. Only. I believe that nations, as cultural communities, should not be granted fundamental rights parallel to human rights – in the same way religious communities ought not be granted such rights.
Europe has the option of moving closer towards the universal principles enshrined in the radical Constitution of the United States: Establishing principles that are granted the individual. This could easily be done without leaving behind the social rights found in our European social democratic economies. This, I believe, is the political strategy that will succeed in revitalizing Europe and create a foolproof resistance against chauvinism and religious evangelisation, two foes who mirror each other in both appearance and rhetoric.
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While staying a motel room in Santa Fe, the night before visiting San Felipe Pueblo, the chief American interpreter at the Nuremberg trials in 1945, Richard Sonnenfeldt was interviewed by Charlie Rose on TV. Sonnenfeldt was a Jewish refugee fleeing Nazi-Germany in the 1930's, he became an American citizen and ended up serving the U.S. Army when in it conquered Germany. After watching his interview on Charlie Rose, I bought Sonnenfeldt’s book. In it, he writes about a revisit to Nuremberg in 2002, with his son Larry and granddaughter Sara. In front of an large German audience, he held a speech and fielded questions for an hour. In his book, he writes:
“I offered my hand to all who would be members of a human family with equal rights for everyone in a society, a nation, and a world that excludes only those who want to exclude themselves. The ovation that followed marked for me that I had been able to live my faith, in myself and in my fellow man.”
Our times, luckily, has seen few attempts at reviving the kind of poisonous nationalism that made Sonnenfeldt flee Germany. I second Sonnenfeldt’s use of the word “nation” in the paragraph above – as an offer to partake in a voluntary world community. Because I truly believe there is a growing number of people who see things the same way he does. The 17th of May hammered this point home for me. For me, it is impossible to choose being part that “nation” Sonnenfeldt envisions, while at the same time belonging a nation represented by the ideas of the Norwegian patriots mentioned above. I live in the same society as them, but I don't share their values.
Like I said, I have no business with these individuals’ cultural preferences. The core problem is that the structure of the European states are drawn along ethnic divides. The nation states – as the central political entities of European democracy – are in fact embodiments of special-interest groups, of the cultural communities of the dominant ethnic group. As a result, opponents of multiculturalism think that minorities ought to adopt the national culture. That would “solve” the question of how to successfully integrate immigrants, they believe. In Norway that would mean an assimilation to the Norwegian “national identity” and Norwegian cultural symbols. (This is a stance more far-reaching than natural requirements for immigrants to respect the laws of their new country, learn the language, work and pay taxes.)
But there are clear drawbacks to demanding loyality to national values. First, it interferes with the citizen’s right to freely choose its own culture and spirituality. Second, on the European level, it creates exactly the same type of cultural segregation that it seeks to avoid domestically: The opponents of multiculturalism are the proponents of European multinationalism. Third, by putting national interests first, it becomes difficult to generate popular support for international cooperation – something which is desperately needed in today’s world – just think of the environmental challenges, the fight against global terrorism and the need for majority voting in supranational decision-making.
Just as secularism has made European politics neutral on the question of individual belief, denationalisation would make politics neutral on the question of cultural identity. I should add that this need not reduce the political consensus necessary for safeguarding social equality, which is an organizational model of society which is treasured in Europe. It would neither reduce our national sentiments, because no person’s cultural preference would be threatened. Only the ability to achieve cultural domination would be abolished. Is the San Felipe Pueblo tribe constrained in their right to practice their culture within the United States of America? If Native Americans wish to live different lives, their individual rights are protected by the Constitution.
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One of the first things I did after returning to Norway, was to visit my grandmother. She is 94 years old. Although she was in poor health, she was in good spirit. One day in the village, I ascended a mountain called Forollhogna. This mountain is not particularly soaring, by Norwegian standards, but the view is magnificent. There wasn’t living soul in sight from the peak. I had only met a couple of goats and some bumble bees on my way up. For half an hour I sat there, in silence. In the horizon, I could make out the mountain range of Rondane. To the east I could see all the way to Sweden. Shadows of clouds drifted slowly across the landscape. The lake at the bottom of the mountain was fluorescent blue – it looked as if it belonged to an artificial world. Patches of snow had not yet melted, nor would it melt, not this year, at least. Being alone in such a panoramic space, it removed all sense of political urgency in me. I felt the same way that I used to feel when I was young, that comforting feeling of being without ambition.
As I walked the rugged trail down from Forollhogna I recalled a night out on the town which I had this winter. My friend, Knut Sævik, had a concert with his electrojazz group at my favourite bar in Oslo. The keyboard player was a Russian pianist named Olga. She tried to convince me that Shostakovich was losing it when he wrote his 15th string quartet. Maybe she was right. The Chinese sax player who had an impro with the band studied at the music academy in Oslo. He couldn’t speak a word of Norwegian nor English. He liked cigarettes, though, and out in the freezing cold we had a smoke after the gig. He pointed at the stars in the black winter night, smiled and said something unintelligible. I talked briefly to Manuele Fior, an Italian artist living in Norway that had released a new comics album, Icarus. (He illustrated one of my articles a few years back.) It was a great night, and afterwards I thought of how this night in many ways was a sort of experience which I’m sure quite a few young Europeans can relate to: Going out, meeting people from different backgrounds, having conversations that shift smoothly between different languages, having the sensation that everything is open for discussion, that this is something completely natural, not some kind of quasi-diplomatic cultural exchange program. I wouldn’t attach much significance to such an trivial experience, other than to mention how much more obscure the writings of the national patriots seemed when I read them on the Net the following day. This recollection of a night of European normality is – for me – a vardøger.