The Rules of Jante Law:
- You're not to think you are anything special.
- You're not to think you are as good as we are.
- You're not to think you are smarter than we are.
- You're not to convince yourself that you are better than we are.
- You're not to think you know more than we do.
- You're not to think you are more important than we are.
- You're not to think you are good at anything.
- You're not to laugh at us.
- You're not to think anyone cares about you.
- You're not to think you can teach us anything.
Aksel Sandemose originally wrote these ten rules of Jante Law in 1933 about his hometown, in order to define and comment on the unique psyche of the Scandinavian countries. The laws emphasize always putting society before the individual. Their presence is seen through the egalitarian values that permeate life here in every arena, from the socialist welfare political structure, to the education system, to one of the most quintessential Danish concepts: hygge. Anyone coming to Denmark is immediately informed of this strange, ubiquitous word and challenged to define it for herself.
Hygge has no direct translation to English, but I personally like to think of it as more of an adjective to describe a general feeling: the feeling of being cozy, warm, and surrounded by good company, of belonging to a group completely. Creating a hygge atmosphere in homes, restaurants, and bars is very important to the Danes, and it is a common sight to see things like blankets on outdoor restaurant tables, and cafes lit only by candlelight. My host family bought a new light fixture for their kitchen a few weeks ago, only to find once it had been installed that it emitted a most unpleasant, fluorescent glow and seemed to belong in a slightly more industrial setting, say, an operating room. Now, every time we sit down to dinner, they make a sarcastic joke about how hyggelit the light is—and then promptly turn it off, in favor of candles of course.
The idea of creating a cozy and inclusive space is one thing, but there is also an element of this social inclusiveness that leads to intense isolation for those on the outside. Hygge attempts to create a “temporary shelter against social stratification, competition and the market” (Linnet 2011) by uniting people around cultural values that state all Danes are equal. But what happens when you add a whole new group of people who don't subscribe to this national identity into the mix?
When I first arrived in Denmark, one of the things that surprised me the most was the homogeneity of the country. After scanning any train car or public bus, which will immediately reveal a sea of tall, beautiful blondes, it becomes blatantly apparent that the population is 90 percent of Danish descent. It's a modern world, though: in the last decade Denmark, like many other European countries, has welcomed an influx of refugees, and the country's composition has begun to change.
The concept of hygge is completely ingrained within Danish cultural norms and the country’s identity; however, these norms are not quite as familiar to immigrant families. Hygge's emphasis on inner space and belonging highlights the duality that is present between Danes and immigrants, so that suddenly an idea that was once the epitome of warmth and coziness becomes a cold means of isolating those who are outside of its reach. The social hierarchy is once again reinforced with this dualism, despite the intention of making everyone equal.
A parallel can be drawn here to the American Dream that immigrants once held as they traveled through Ellis Island for a new life in America—the hope that through hard work and a little bit of luck, anyone can succeed. However, this dream has become tainted, and with the changing times we are forced to question whether it truly represents the values of our nation. Does the Danish version of this dream, in the form of hygge, become obsolete, or is it compatible with the changing times?
Hygge has no direct translation to English, but I personally like to think of it as more of an adjective to describe a general feeling: the feeling of being cozy, warm, and surrounded by good company, of belonging to a group completely. Creating a hygge atmosphere in homes, restaurants, and bars is very important to the Danes, and it is a common sight to see things like blankets on outdoor restaurant tables, and cafes lit only by candlelight. My host family bought a new light fixture for their kitchen a few weeks ago, only to find once it had been installed that it emitted a most unpleasant, fluorescent glow and seemed to belong in a slightly more industrial setting, say, an operating room. Now, every time we sit down to dinner, they make a sarcastic joke about how hyggelit the light is—and then promptly turn it off, in favor of candles of course.
The idea of creating a cozy and inclusive space is one thing, but there is also an element of this social inclusiveness that leads to intense isolation for those on the outside. Hygge attempts to create a “temporary shelter against social stratification, competition and the market” (Linnet 2011) by uniting people around cultural values that state all Danes are equal. But what happens when you add a whole new group of people who don't subscribe to this national identity into the mix?
When I first arrived in Denmark, one of the things that surprised me the most was the homogeneity of the country. After scanning any train car or public bus, which will immediately reveal a sea of tall, beautiful blondes, it becomes blatantly apparent that the population is 90 percent of Danish descent. It's a modern world, though: in the last decade Denmark, like many other European countries, has welcomed an influx of refugees, and the country's composition has begun to change.
The concept of hygge is completely ingrained within Danish cultural norms and the country’s identity; however, these norms are not quite as familiar to immigrant families. Hygge's emphasis on inner space and belonging highlights the duality that is present between Danes and immigrants, so that suddenly an idea that was once the epitome of warmth and coziness becomes a cold means of isolating those who are outside of its reach. The social hierarchy is once again reinforced with this dualism, despite the intention of making everyone equal.
A parallel can be drawn here to the American Dream that immigrants once held as they traveled through Ellis Island for a new life in America—the hope that through hard work and a little bit of luck, anyone can succeed. However, this dream has become tainted, and with the changing times we are forced to question whether it truly represents the values of our nation. Does the Danish version of this dream, in the form of hygge, become obsolete, or is it compatible with the changing times?
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