How Norway is solving all the world鈥檚 problems 鈥� with waffles
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Mark Sappenfield Senior global correspondent
| Oslo, Norway
There is no precise word in English for what Ann Helen Myrvold is doing. 鈥淰olunteering鈥� perhaps comes closest. But it鈥檚 more than that.
She has not come to this part of suburban Oslo just to beautify the stream Gjersrudbekken on its forested tumble toward the fjord. She has come from some deeply ingrained Norwegian sense of obligation, of community, of responsibility 鈥� and, of course, for the waffles.
True, what she is doing looks remarkably like a run-of-the-mill cleanup, removing everything from car tires to motorized scooters from the stream鈥檚 path with a sweet treat for everyone afterward. But she and her friends from a nearby university have been doing things like this since kindergarten, cleaning neighborhoods and holding bake sales to fund sports teams.
Why We Wrote This
Across the West, many worry that the sense of shared society is deteriorating. Norway is one of the countries ranked highest in sense of community, and it is events like 鈥渄ugnads鈥� that might be helping bolster that mindset.
Dugnad聽is not just the activity, but the mindset behind it.
And at a time when social scientists see the fabric of societies fraying 鈥� churches and community organizations declining, connections across demographic lines dwindling 鈥� dugnads are something of an antidote.
No one here would argue that dugnads are the reason why Norway consistently ranks as . But no one would argue that they don鈥檛 play a role, either. They are a binding force, both simple and sweeping, that give Norwegians not only a sense of doing good, but of doing it together.
鈥淲hen you鈥檙e brought up, it鈥檚 a big thing to go out and clean and make it look nice,鈥� says Ms. Myrvold. 鈥淵ou start at a young age, and you just learn to do it and love it. You see it as teambuilding.鈥�
The loss of 鈥渟ocial capital鈥�
The tradition has its roots in Norway鈥檚 history as a poor nation of small farmers and fishermen. When a church or bridge needed to be built, or a neighbor was building a barn, everyone came together to help.
鈥淚t was a kind of social insurance or a mobilizing of resources, and it was steeped in a sense of justice,鈥� says Karl Henrik Sivesind, a professor at the Institute for Social Research in Oslo who has studied the tradition. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not for your own advantage. You chip in, and everyone chips in.鈥�
Today, social scientists lament the loss of 鈥渟ocial capital鈥� 鈥� the connections in a community that drive trust and bring broader benefits for all. The dugnad is an incubator of social capital, Dr. Sivesind says.
鈥淚f you look at the word itself, it has a social element,鈥� he says, noting that its verbal roots reference the concept of virtue. 鈥淵ou contribute to necessities of organization, and you meet people, build networks, and get to know people in your neighborhood.鈥�
鈥淚t sounds better in Norwegian鈥�
The Gjersrudbekken cleanup is organized by Rusken, a three-person bureau in the Oslo city government that organizes volunteer cleanups and is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year. Ms. Myrvold signed up with several friends who attend the nearby Norwegian University of Life Sciences and are part of a group called 鈥淔eminine and Class.鈥�
鈥淚t sounds better in Norwegian,鈥� laughs Sanne Marie Tamlag Fr酶land, a volunteer and member of the group.
In addition to participating in dugnads, they raise money for charitable causes. Right now, they鈥檙e supporting a group providing healthcare relief in Africa.
To all the young women clad in bright orange vests and industrial work gloves, participating in a dugnad is just part of being Norwegian. And it usually involves an element of fun, whether that鈥檚 waffles for mud-spattered workers or a cookout for kids.
Across town, Norway鈥檚 biggest hiking and outdoor activities organization is holding a dugnad of its own, skewers for sausages included.
The Norwegian Trekking Association is among the most beloved groups in the country, maintaining trails and cabins for a nation of nature lovers. Today, in a playground of the residential neighborhood of B忙rum, they鈥檝e built a bonfire.
The plan is to teach local children wilderness skills such as first aid. Many kids have brought stuffed animals to practice on. But it鈥檚 also a chance for neighbors to meet and talk.
As parents and children gather around the bonfire, sausages sizzle and the red-vested volunteers mill about, chatting and preparing the presentation, which is free to anyone who wants to come.
Maria Ruud has brought her 7-year-old daughter. She says she鈥檚 been doing these sorts of things 鈥渇orever.鈥� Local carnivals for kids, neighborhood cleanups where 鈥測ou find a task the kids can do,鈥� and Norway鈥檚 famous May 17 Independence Day celebrations 鈥� all made possible by dugnads.
She acknowledges that she sometimes doesn鈥檛 look forward to the work, whether that鈥檚 planning games and food or raking leaves. But there鈥檚 a bigger benefit.
鈥淭he good part is the social side,鈥� Ms. Ruud says. 鈥淵ou come together and share the work. As humans, you feel like you鈥檙e a part of something bigger. We need that to make our life meaningful.鈥�
A counterbalance against growing division
That need is only becoming more important, some say.
Kristin Sandaker ticks off the dugnads she has done over the years. At one flea market to support a local youth orchestra, she recalls getting in 24,000 steps simply lugging items around. 鈥淚 can say that was one of the year鈥檚 best hikes,鈥� she grins.
But she worries that the forces that would divide Norway are growing. The political polarization that shapes much of European politics has a foothold in Norway, too. And immigration can inadvertently raise the risks of different communities becoming detached and distant from one another.
Dugnads are a counterbalance. There鈥檚 a fellowship that comes from taking 24,000 steps or being ankle-deep in mud with someone.
鈥淚t is the most obvious proof that we can do things together,鈥� Ms. Sandaker says. With the current state of things, 鈥渢his gets even more important 鈥� that people get together in this way.鈥�
