The Danish Ten Commandments
The Danes have a secret code. It is so secret that they don’t even admit it to themselves. Except it’s not all that secret, because I know about it. And now you can too!
It’s called Janteloven, the Law of Jante. It permeates all the Nordic nations to one degree or another, arguably to its greatest degree in ultra-conformist Norway and Sweden, but it also still operates in its spiritual home, Denmark, despite the Danes’ (deluded?) self-image as free-thinking individualists.
It consists of ten laws; really quite miserable, collectivist commandments invented by provincial Danish author, Axel Sandemose (a deeply unpleasant character, by all accounts, but that’s by-the-by), in his 1930s satirical novel, A Fugitive Covers His Tracks. So it’s not really secret at all.
Here’s a taster of four of the laws:
You must not think you are anything special.
You must not think you are as good as we are.
You must not think you are better than we are.
You are not to laugh at us.
You are not to think you can teach us anything.
And so on.
They sound barely creditable, don’t they? Surely, no-one takes these seriously in progressive, liberal, hyggelige-hugging modern-day Scandinavia?
Well, they do and they don’t.
The laws do still control how things happen here to a certain extent and in certain situations. They still keep a lid on ostentatious displays of wealth, for the most part. They dampen naked ambition and ruthless competition. They suppress mouthiness. Show-offs are shunned. Boasters, broken. That kind of thing. So, in a way, though the original laws are (satirically) brutal and spirit-crushing, there are aspects of what they satirised which are actually quite positive.
No one likes a show-off, right?
So why is Jante Law so tricky for foreigners in Denmark to deal with? After all, in the Anglo Saxon world we have our own Jantelov: ‘Tall Poppy Syndrome’ - stick your head above the herd, and you risk having it chopped off - which is kind of the same, no?
Well, no, it isn’t. The difference between Jante Law and Tall Poppy Syndrome, as I see it, is that the latter only really applies to people who actively seek to raise themselves above others; show-offs, those who conspicuously consume, reality TV ‘stars’, or mouthy politicians. But Jante Law applies to everyone.
All. The. Time.
For the new arrival in Denmark, there are two choices. One: moan like me, and make yourself miserable and bitter. Or, two, learn to love Jante Law.
Yes, that’s right, love it. After all, Jante Law is just one facet of what makes living in Scandinavia so great: the fact that most people can look each other in the eye as equals, no matter their job or family background.
So, you could choose to see it as a manifestation of the region’s admirable social, gender and economic equality. Suddenly, Jante Law seems less invidious.
Ask most Danes about Jantelov and not a single one will have a good word to say about it. What’s more, most will deny it still has any influence on how they behave. Dig a little deeper, though, and the revealing anecdotes begin to flow. Sitting next to a Danish woman, an accountant, at a dinner party recently, she explained how stifling she found life in her home town in Jutland. ‘Anyone who even slightly broke with convention, or showed that they had any ambition, was frowned upon,’ she told me. ‘People really didn’t like it.’ She, like many, left her small town for Copenhagen where things are, admittedly, a little freer, although not entirely Jantelov-free.
I find Jantelov’s most pernicious influence to be found in the Danish school system where high achievers can have a rough time, especially girls: clever girls are labelled ‘tolvtalspiger’ (‘12 grade girls’: 12 is the top grade in the Danish education system). This is considered a negative thing. Do too well, and you are a ‘girly swot’ - that kind of thing. Unpleasant. Mental health issues abound, as you can imagine.
Luckily, visitors are largely immune to the tyranny of Jantelov. Come to Scandinavia for a weekend, or a few days and, apart from being tutted at for crossing the street when the man is red (even if no cars are in sight), you are unlikely to notice its oppressive influence.
If, however, you are thinking of staying longer, or even moving here, you might want to reconsider swapping that Rolex Oyster for something a little less... showy. Personally, I have learned not to expect enthusiastic responses when I tell people about (rare) work-related success, for instance. It’s not that people will openly tell you to shut it, or even frown, but you will just experience the conversation move rapidly on to another less controversial topic.
It’s more hyggelige that way, I guess.