Federal Judiciary

Up in Norway, Part II -- By: Jay Nordlinger

Welcome to the second installment of these notes from Oslo. For the first, go here. I was talking about the 17th of May, I think. Why is this day a big deal? It is National Day, Constitution Day -- the Norwegians? Fourth of July. (I realize that our Fourth celebrates the Declaration, not the Constitution -- but we won?t pick nits, right?) The Norwegian constitution was signed on May 17, 1814, in the town of Eidsvoll. I?m told that many Norwegians don?t know that: don?t know that May 17 marks the signing of the constitution. But no matter. The point is, May 17 is Norway?s Big Day.

One huge difference between their May 17 and our July 4 -- at home, in the summer, we dress pretty grubby: in T-shirts and shorts, ready for a picnic, ready for barbecue sauce spilled down our fronts. (Should I speak for myself?) On May 17 in Norway, oh, my, are they spiffy and formal: The men are in suits and ties; the ladies are in dresses, particularly of a folk nature. They are in national costume, and so are some, though a lower percentage, of the men.

People are amazingly elegant on National Day. (I guess I?m repeating myself.) I actually see some men in top hats. And children are delicious, all dressed up -- is there anything like children dressed up? These ones don?t seem recalcitrant, either -- they don?t seem Our Gang types. Even the adolescent boys are in suits and ties. I don?t see that at home much. Do you?

Many men wear a patriotic ribbon -- the national colors, red and blue -- on a lapel, and so do I. The ribbon is given to me by a host of mine. I am feeling very Norwegian, very patriotic. Not a drop of Norwegian ancestry in me, but what could I care? Everyone in Oslo is a Norwegian today.

Thinking of constitutions, I am reminded of an interesting point -- something that a think-tanker related to me long ago: Though America is a young nation, it is an old government -- the oldest in the world? This is what the think-tanker said, I recall. Consider how new the governments of the old, old nations are: the governments of Britain, France, Germany, Russia, China . . .

I partake in a traditional May 17 breakfast at the home of friends. They have patriotic Norwegian napkins, candles -- the works. There is also patriotic music playing on the stereo. Do you know that ?God Save the Queen? -- or the king, depending -- is used for the Norwegian monarch too? Excellent tune. Of course, a guy like me will always think of it as ?My Country, ?Tis of Thee.?

I wish you could see the spread at this breakfast -- ?smorgasbord? ain?t a Scandinavian word for nothing. The accent is on Norwegian delicacies, including a very tasty brown cheese and reindeer sausage. On, Blixen! (No, I did not say Hans Blix -- another ghastly Swede.)

The main drag in Oslo -- Karl Johan Street -- is decked in flags, flags everywhere. So is the rest of Oslo, I gather. Seldom have I seen so many flags -- never, really. By the way, do we still have Flag Day at home? I can?t remember when or what it is. Guess I?m a bad American (as the Left suggests every now and then, when it is feeling gleefully McCarthyite).

People lucky enough to be staying in the Grand Hotel hang out of the balconies, watching. What are they watching? Well, the parade -- the parade of bands, the parade of people. Speaking of balconies, King Harald stands on his, at his palace. Children parade beneath him, and he beams and waves at them. Just as a king should.

Some of the bands, let me tell you, play American pop songs. I am particularly happy to hear ?September? by Earth, Wind & Fire.

Like other countries in Europe, Norway has a Muslim population, and a burgeoning one. Very burgeoning. More burgeoning than Norwegian officials like to admit. And integration is going very, very . . . badly. (I will have more on that later.) I?m told that there was a debate recently: Why not allow flags of many nations in parades on May 17? The Pakistani flag, the Somalian flag, what have you? Those pushing that idea -- the multicultis -- lost out. The competing argument was, ?People can fly those other flags 364 days of the year. Can?t we have one day for our traditional national day?? Sounds reasonable . . .

Here are a couple of stories about the king -- about the present king?s father, actually: Olav V. During the worldwide oil crisis, he stopped using his car. He took the train, and there is a famous picture of him paying for his ticket. I?m reminded of something: My mother remembers the winter during World War II -- she was a little girl -- when the Windsor girls, Elizabeth and Margaret, went without new winter coats. They just used their coats from the previous winter (and they were growing girls). I can?t confirm at this moment that the story is true. But my mother remembers it that way, and it made an impression on her. Those things do. Symbolism counts.

Another story about King Olav? (Not to be confused with King Ouf of Chabrier?s operetta L?Etoile, a performance of which I reviewed the other month.) Ceausescu, the Romanian dictator, came to stay in the palace. He heard the train, or tram, pass close by at night. The dictator grumbled to the king, ?Why don?t you have it shut down?? The king replied, ?Why, the people are using it.? That must have perplexed the Romanian king greatly.

The Norwegian parliament is called the Storting, and the Storting building is a grand, attractive edifice. Its greatest room is the Storting Chamber, where the legislators meet. At the head of the room is a very large and famous (in Norway) painting of Eidsvoll 1814: when the constitution was adopted. Honestly, the chamber is one of the most beautiful big rooms I have ever seen in my life. It must be pleasant to be a Norwegian legislator -- enacting and enforcing socialism in style.

There is a man outside the building -- a statue of a man -- and for a quick second, before drawing closer, I think it?s Lincoln. Nope: It?s Johan Sverdrup, the prime minister from the 1880s. Lincoln is elsewhere in Oslo -- I will tell you about that in a future installment.

Lions guard the Storting, and they were carved by convicts, imprisoned in the Akershus Fortress. The chief carver, or stonemason, was ?serving a life sentence for a brutal murder.? (I?m quoting from official literature.) First, he was sentenced to death; then he was given that life sentence -- a sentence of ?penal servitude,? for the remainder of his days; then he was set free, in recognition of his ?services to Norway?s national assembly.? Guy went to America, ?where he became a pioneer settler on the prairies.?

Just so you know.

I find it interesting to see older, elegant women in their national costumes -- grandmothers, aristocrats (by the appearance of them) -- sitting on benches tapping on their BlackBerries or iPhones.

I myself sit on Karl Johan Street, watching the people go by. It seems that every third or fourth woman is wearing a headscarf. This is not part of the Norwegian national costume; this is something else. Are these Norwegians, or dwellers in Norway, feeling Norwegian today? Do they feel that on any day? Does the majority population allow them to do so? Questions to be explored . . .

At night, there is a concert, down by the harbor. There is a parade of singers, all contestants in the Eurovision contest, I understand. One girl -- young woman? -- is especially good and appealing. Don?t catch her name. Hope she wins something.

And isn?t it interesting that, wherever you go in the world, you hear pop songs in English?

Well, I think that?s enough Norway-ing for now -- certainly enough National Day-ing. Thanks, and catch you for Part III.

Full post as published by Bench Memos - National Review Online on May 26, 2010 (boomark / email).