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If there is one thing the average Dane would mention that makes him most proud of his heritage, it would probably be the Danish sense of fairness, justice and equality. Children are taught from a young age to treat others like they themselves would like to be treated. Parents and teachers are but links in a long chain of egalitarian tradition that has its roots in something called Janteloven, or the laws of Jante. It comes from a novel by a Danish/Norwegian writer, and its basic tenet is that you shouldn’t think too highly of yourself. You are part of a humble human collective, and if you try to fly too high, it is everyone else’s imperative to bring you down to earth by any means possible.

Take me to your leader
In the Danish workplace it is sometimes impossible to see who the boss is. I was often surprised by how often the real boss would be interrupted in his morning staff briefings by anyone and everyone who had an opinion about the matter. Rather than an elevated authority that boomed his message down to the masses, the boss seemed to be an aggregator of ideas, inconspicuously melding with the rest of the workforce. In matters that affected the group, his own opinions carried exactly as much weight as everyone else’s, but if he caught you dawdling, he was as much the butt-kicking, cigar-sucking boss you’d find in any other totalitarian and soul-crushing bulwark of human oppression around the world.

Because you are a free citizen, you are entitled to be treated as such. This means that you cannot be exploited economically. You have a right to work for a decent wage. Jobs that are disparaged by the rich (and the poor) in other countries, like garbage collecting, sweeping the streets and cleaning toilets are as respectable as being a doctor, engineer or a teacher (wait, scrap that last one).

Waiters are not tipped, because they actually get paid by their employers (the food is expensive enough to have included a tip anyway). And the Skattefar, or tax daddy, makes sure that he takes enough money from you so you are well shielded from any delusions of grandeur you might sustain from your toilet-cleaning job.

Counting old people’s teeth
Attitudes towards children are similarly egalitarian: children are in many ways equal to adults, only smaller. Danes don’t have honorary appellatives like Mr, Mrs, Ms or even Doctor and Professor. They do exist, but mostly only in parodic contexts. Children call adults by their first names, and adults likewise treat children like intelligent individuals.

Many years ago, at the dinner table, the topic of homosexuality came up. There was a young girl of about 7 or 8 present. She asked what a homosexual was. Her mother told her, and then continued with the conversation. My own parents would’ve suffered mild seizures, then agonized over the question for a week.

Discussing world matters

Danish children are informed about adult topics from the moment they are old enough to ask about them. They are encouraged to actively participate in adult discussions and to have opinions about things. I myself was told to be seen and not heard, and not to “count old people’s teeth”. They would invite me to their discussion when I was big enough.

I’m still waiting.

This open relationship between children and parents lays the foundation for how they relate to each other in the future, but this doesn’t necessarily predict a rosy scenario. It often means that children, who are naturally entitled to everything, are just more vocal about their need for freedom and independence later in life, which often leads to slightly strained feelings when parents try to assert their right to interfere. This creates the impression in foreigners that Danish parents and children are always fighting. Children from more traditional families would probably just suppress their true feelings in these situations, making everything seem a lot more harmonious than they really are.

Bricks in the wall?
Because everyone is equal, social consensus is established early in a Dane’s life. There are no outrageous anomalies in the social way of things, so it is learned without difficulty. The social model is simple enough for all to grasp. There are many aspects to this, and everyone has his own crazy theory.

Crazy theory 1: the language. The Danish language is the prime instrument in the functional universe that inhabits the mind of the Dane. Its relation to the world is linear and complete. Nothing else exists outside it. Unlike English, it hasn’t raided, plundered and looted sounds and impressions from faraway shores to the extent that a Danish speaker is in a constant state of uncertainty, curiosity and conjecture about the world he lives in.

Danish is content with what it can see and touch. It doesn’t aspire to the ethereal and fantastical. Many Danes describe their knowledge of Danish as “complete”, something no English speaker would ever dream of doing.

It creates the impression in me that Danes have everything wrapped up in a neat bundle. Their egalitarian world-view is simply a facilitator, a tool with which to trim off all the pesky, uneven bits of uncertainty. And to an extent it is something I admire and envy, because Danes are almost completely without chaos.

Crazy theory 2: everything else. Everything else that Danes do simply reinforces my first crazy theory. An overwhelming sense of conformity infuses the entire fabric of Danish culture. My first thoughts, as I landed here, were that sensual impressions seemed wilfully subdued. I was constantly seeking the outrageous colours, sounds and smells of my homeland.

Menaces to democracy

The other day, while reading a computer magazine in the library, one of the letters to the editor complained about the magazine being too colourful. The editor used half a page to apologize and to explain the reason for using all those colours.

Instead of finding it absurd, I found some small solace in it. It confirmed my thoughts. Dissenting colours are an aberration and a menace to democracy.