Living in and traveling through Norway has given me the opportunity not only to engage with individuals from all over the country, but to also learn more about cultural and social beliefs and practices. As much as I try to focus on my experiences and life in Norway this year, I am still impacted by what is happening in the United States and in particular the town I call home.
Last week 132 employees at the University I work at were let go. This is the latest in a series of layoffs based on enrollment and lack of state funding to higher education. And, frankly, mismanagement, illegal practices, and lack of long-term vision. Being away from what is happening at the university I work for and the town I call home (and the country where I live) has made me more aware of how our social norms and beliefs impact our reactions to situations such as this.
I have spent a great deal of time thinking about what American beliefs and community practices mean when it comes to how we approach teaching, learning, and the general welfare of everyone in the community. I think about how we might learn from the ways in which Norwegians approach community; the social culture of Norway. In particular, there are two beliefs in Norway that I continue to explore about while I’m here. I reflect on how they would apply in the US, and specifically how we might practice them in my small town in west central Illinois.
One is dugnad.
Dugnad is the belief that everybody helps. Everyone does their part to complete a task or to make sure that things get done. It’s like a barn raising. If everyone pitches in, then we can get a project done that we couldn’t do on our own.
In Norway, this is a way of life. It is an accepted social norm. If your children are involved in a sport, music, or other activities (like ours are here and back home), all parents are expected to help out at events, fundraise, or take a turn at waiting at the front door to let children in. And, everyone does it. If you are a part of something, you help out.
When Lucy had a cheer competition hosted by her team, each parent participated. We were all assigned a job and did those jobs. There was no complaining or people not participating. If your child was on the team, you did you part to make sure that the team’s competition was successful. And, it worked well. No one felt overworked, everyone showed up for their shifts, brought food or cleaned up. Because that is what you do if your child participates.
At many of the schools I’ve visited with the amazing teachers’ lounges, the teachers take turns tidying up the lounge, loading and unloading the dishwasher or other tasks to make sure that the mutual space is well-kept. You work your week and help out because you know someone else will do this for you another week.
Last week I was at a school where each week a small group of teachers brings snacks to share with the other teachers during lunch. They set the tables with these treats. Most schools have wine raffles (a practice I think we need more of in the US). The teachers purchase a ticket for the wine raffle and they have a drawing every Friday. Or, there’s the school I visited where the principal knit mittens for every single employee, 116 in all.
There are many examples of small ways in which the concept of dugnad is so engrained in Norwegian culture that it is just taken for granted that people will all participate and help out. It might not be without complaint—helping out with children’s activities is always a lot of work—but it is done. And, in doing so, more people benefit from the experience.
The other concept that I continue to contemplate is Janteloven.
Janteloven is often used by Norwegians to describe what it means to be Norwegian and how people behave in Norwegian society. It is the belief that you should put society ahead of your individual accomplishments. You do not boast about what you have done and are not jealous of the accomplishments of others. It is a social code that values cohesiveness and a belief that you take care of what is around you.
It is the belief that you are not special or unique or smarter than others. You do not know more and are not more important than anyone else. This means that in Norway there is more of a value on the social welfare of the society. It is why people talk about how happy Norwegians are. Because these are the strengths that Norwegians see, not individuals and celebrities, young people are not taught to stand out. They do not see themselves as better than others.
For Americans, it runs counter to what we engrain in children and value in adults. We want to be different. We want to stand out. We care about what the individual does and we value that more than we value collective accomplishments and the well-being of society as a whole. We give students awards for being the best. We compete to be the top athlete, scholar, money maker, and vote getter. And, we make this a foundational cultural belief and practice.
It’s complicated, janteloven. And, it is not something that is always taken to heart—even Norwegians (and Scandinavians in general) make fun of the belief. Yet, it is one they return to when they define themselves. One of the workshops I give is on writing complex texts. English is taught in Norway starting in 1st grade, but it is still most students’ second (if not third) language. When I talk with them about what makes strong academic writing in English, the thing I tell them that is most difficult for Norwegian students is that they need to establish authority.
Being an authority on a topic is something engrained in American students (and people). As a society, we believe we know what is best and enjoy arguing for those beliefs. It is an important part of academic writing. Creating thesis statements and making explicit arguments are learned in elementary school. In Norway, cultural values and beliefs make that approach to writing very different. Students are not taught to make explicit arguments and struggle with the belief that they are experts in their writing. It is not an idea or concept that is embraced.
What do these beliefs mean for me?
This is the question I continually ask myself. This year I spend a great deal of time thinking about the complexities of living in another country. I think about what it is about the values and beliefs of the country I grew up in that I have come to appreciate and those that I want to see changed. And, I think about these in relation to what I am learning as I travel through Norway. What are Norwegians and Norwegian culture teaching me about the United States? And, what parts do I want to bring back with me?
I believe the belief of janteloven and the strong grounding in dugnad are important. In the US I live in a small town. We have one public school. We have the ability to make real and lasting change in our community. I wonder what it would be like to apply some of these practices to our daily lives and communities?
I wonder how things might be different at my university if we constantly thought that no one program or position was more important than the other? What if we looked at what is best for the community? What would happen if we were all treated as being essential to our community and we worked together to make sure that everyone’s needs were met?
I wonder how things might be different in my community if we practiced dugnad in real and sustainable ways? What would it be like if everyone participated? What would it be like if the whole community came out for cleanup days? What would it be like if all parents helped out with sporting events, school events, band, choir, theatre?
What would it mean if we applied some of these beliefs and values to our community? I don’t know if it would make any lasting changes. I don’t know if people would embrace these concepts and beliefs. I believe that we need to work within the societal structures of American values and culture in order to make meaningful change. But, if we do start to apply some of these values I wonder if we might start to strengthen our community and see valuable and meaningful commitment to all members of the communities which we respect.