Jul without a julefrokost

If I had a krone for every time I heard someone talk about the importance of attending a julefrokost in order to socially integrate in Denmark, well, I might not be rich but I’d probably have enough money to buy a cafe latte in Copenhagen. While I wasn’t fortunate enough to score an invitation to a julefrokost this year (probably because I don’t have a ‘proper job’ yet, as my mom would put it) I still can’t help wondering what it is about this event that makes it so essential in Danish life.

Naturally I’m not referring to the actual Christmas day lunch, but to the traditional Christmas office parties taking place throughout December. One website with information to foreigners on Denmark describes these events as a ‘unique chance to see the native Danes at their most Danish’ – apparently the event consists of the Danish staples of social events, which means long-winded speeches, cheerful (and as mentioned in my last post, somewhat dorky to the foreign eyes) song-singing, and of course – lots of drinking. All of which can probably be summed up as the essence of ‘hygge’ and all of which I’ve experienced before at social and family events in Denmark.

I’ve always felt that social events in Denmark are quite telling about the Danish culture since they appeared to be rather different from social events I had experienced elsewhere, especially in the number and length of speeches and songs (I’m still not quite sure what the deal is with all those songs). The sheer duration of the events themselves is also quite shocking to the initiate. The above-mentioned website describes it well: ‘The Danes have a remarkable ability to sit at a party table for hours on end, practising an extreme, and possibly inherited form of bladder control’.

But it appears that the julefrokost stands out from other Danish social events, especially in two ways: the amount of alcohol consumed (the website calls the event ‘a party where the Danes gather to eat and drink themselves into a frenzy of Christmas cheer’) and the, how shall we put it, ‘friendly’ behavior displayed by employees (referred to as ‘employees are expected to let their hair down’ by the website). Stories from friends mention frequent physical activity among co-workers and sometimes even with bosses. This sounded quite familiar to me – I’ve experienced it before in London.

One of my first shocks in London when I moved there years ago was the somber and unsocial office work environment (anyone who’s experienced the English work tradition of lunch equaling a sandwich eaten hastily at one’s desk in front of one’s computer, would know what I’m talking about). The shock got greater when during my first office Christmas party I witnessed all my colleagues becoming extremely friendly and social under the influence of alcohol, the contrast with the normal day-to-day behavior being so stark that it brought Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to mind. I’ll never forget coming home that night and telling my partner that I discovered my colleagues did in fact have a social personality and that everything would now be different at the office. Sure enough, the following Monday there was no trace of that night’s behavior and the day-to-day routine went straight back to its depressingly unsocial former self.

The stories I hear of the Danish julefrokost, with its extreme warm and social behavior by co-workers followed by a chilling return to the office code on the following Monday, sound strangely similar to my London experiences. I say strangely, because in London I blamed the typical English reserve and politeness for the change of behavior from ‘everyday distant’ to ‘Christmas party night warm’. In Denmark I always felt people were direct and honest (not to say uninhibited) as a general rule – why then do they also seem to change their behavior drastically under the influence of alcohol at the office Christmas party? Surely in their case there’s not such a great need to ‘let go’ and ‘lose one’s inhibitions’ as in the case of the English?

Perhaps the conclusion is that the Danes are not as much ‘themselves’ in the office environment as I had always thought, and that therefore they do in fact have a need to let their hair down during the Christmas party. Or maybe the Danes, just like the English and so many others, simply enjoy getting drunk and frisky with their colleagues one night a year. I’ll probably only be able to answer the question if and when I ever join a ‘typical’ Danish office environment and attend a typical julefrokost. Meanwhile I can find comfort in the fact that I’m not the only one missing out on a julefrokost experience this year – a Danish friend working for a ‘proper’ company told me their party got cancelled this year due to cutbacks, and apparently they’re one of many companies to do so. It sounds like this year many Danes will have to find another opportunity to let their hair down…

Wanted: readers with a sense of humour

Reading some of the comments to my first couple of blog posts on Politiken got me thinking about a question I often hear discussed among foreigners in Denmark: do the Danes have a sense of humour? At this point you might be thinking that this is a bit of a silly question – every nation or nationality has some sort of humour, they’re just not all of the exact same kind. True. So perhaps a better question is: what kind of humour do the Danes have?

A peek at the thoroughly entertaining book ‘The Xenophobe’s Guide to the Danes’ reveals an interesting take on Danish humour by outsiders. As a side note, I’m a big believer that everyone should read their own country’s Xenophobe’s Guide (somewhat of a counterintuitive thought as the primary audience for those books are foreigners visiting the country discussed and wanting to understand it better). The reason being that one can never truly view one’s own culture with fresh unbiased eyes other than by learning how it’s viewed by objective outsiders (hint hint), and in this book’s case – outsiders with a great sense of humour.

In any case, the book says interesting things like “Danish humour suffers from the handicap of the Danes’ literal-mindedness”, “biting political satire is not widespread”, “sarcasm and self-deprecation are likely to be misunderstood”, and notably – “Danes have a weakness for slapstick”. Is it true that Danes are too literal to understand sarcasm, or too naive to observe humorous nuances?

Many years ago I was speaking to a friend in New York about her favourite nationalities when it comes to finding a boyfriend. “What about Scandinavians?” I asked her, being myself in the midst of a love affair with a Dane and as a result with anything Scandinavian. “Nah, too boring. I need some spice” she said. Funnily enough I felt somewhat offended and rushed to the defence of the Danes, trying to debunk the common preconception that Scandinavians are too cold to be ‘spicy’ or ‘humorous’. Pretty soon though I realized it was a lost cause with that particular friend.

My friend was not the only one who falls victim to this ‘common wisdom’ held by many, who tend to associate humour with warm climates (Mediterranean and Latin American countries), while seeing colder regions (Canada? Scandinavia?) as more sedate and lacking in biting humour, with Britain being an obvious exception. And I have to admit my first few experiences of Danish humour seemed to support this prejudice – having experienced some happy-clappy Danish weddings, with lots of ‘hurrahs’, comic speeches and funny song singing, made me feel that there’s something very naive, and even a little dorky about Danish humour. And watching some commercials, films and TV shows like The Julekalendar did in fact indicate a weakness for the ‘silly’ side of humour. I also often felt my cynicism was interpreted as negativity, and my sarcastic comments were sometimes taken literally.

But with time I realized that even though the Danish humour seems at first rather unsophisticated, reality was more complex than that. Most Danes I met displayed a much ‘healthier’ and more ‘intelligent’ sense of humour than others I’ve come across over the years (Mediterranean or not), with a full appreciation for irony, sarcasm and satire. Classic Danish films like ‘Italian for Beginners’ and ‘Babette’s Feast’, and even the memorable TV show ‘Matador’ (not to mention the iconic Olsen Banden series) showed that subtle and witty humour is very much a Danish staple. The recent TV show ‘Klovn’ is another great example. And I also came to appreciate the naivety in Danish society – a rare collective quality that is so very charming and refreshing after the blasé and jaded feeling of New York and London.

So Danish humour might not be of the dry, deadpan English type, but intelligent it certainly is. And while Danes do suffer from literal-mindedness in general, it doesn’t really seem to impede their sense of humour. And let’s face it – don’t all nations suffer from a weakness for silly humour on occasions? Perhaps my initial impressions of misunderstood sarcasm had more to do with the language barrier – with the different terms, intonation, nuances and everything else that goes with it – than with taking things literally.

As for the long pseudo-academic quasi-sociological comments on my blog that may be completely accurate but seem to me to have absolutely nothing to do with what I write about – well, it might be a lack of humour or simply a refusal to accept a blog that talks about ‘Danishness’ from an anecdotal rather than anthropological perspective (academic texts and scientific publications might be more appropriate than mainstream media for a research-based approach). Be it as it may, I’ll keep hoping there’s a silent majority out there that approaches my blog with sufficient humour to be able to get something out of it.

Are the 'soft' Danish values enough to attract foreign professionals?

An article in Politiken yesterday reported on the results of a recent study among international ‘knowledge workers’ in Denmark, showing that 9 out of 10 respondents emphasized the fact that Danish employers respect their employees’ family lives. The article suggested that Denmark should ‘sell itself’ to foreign professionals using the associated soft values of flexible working hours, welfare and security. Throw in liquorice and Danish design and you really have a perfect society! But jokes aside, I must say I agree. I’m just not sure whether those are strong enough on their own to attract foreign talent.

One of my most enduring memories of business school in New York – and one that shows how far the Danish mentality is from the American mentality – is a story told by my finance professor in class one day. He began explaining to us students how his family managed to avoid paying almost any income and capital gains taxes over the years by constantly borrowing against their assets, and enjoying the associated tax breaks. He was part bragging part ‘teaching’ us how to mange our finances wisely. His comments were at once funny and tasteless, but most importantly gave me a great insight into the American psyche as a foreigner trying to make sense of the land of opportunity – taxes are bad, maximizing profit is key, and in general the individual reigns supreme.

This approach is partly what makes America so driven, productive and successful, but it arguably leads to a work ethic that does not sufficiently consider family and community life. Denmark can be perceived as the other end of the spectrum, where the term ‘community’ far overshadows the concept of ‘the individual’ in many ways, and where individual profit is less important than collective wealth. This makes it a place where values such as family life, work-life balance and support for others are paramount.

Another experience that sharpened this point for me was when I compared the reactions I received from many in London to having my first child (“oh, you’ll now find that you want to work harder and longer to support your family and to have some time off from a crying baby and dirty nappies…”) to those my friends in Denmark received following a similar development (“you should probably switch to ‘flextime’ so that you can spend more time with your family”). That just says it all, doesn’t it?

I personally find this focus on private life attractive and I’m sure there are lots of other foreign professionals who do. But it’s far from certain to me that respect for an employee’s family life, however lovely it is for us parents, is enough to attract foreign professionals in the global competition for talent. Of course there’s the obvious issue of pay and taxes, which is partly addressed by the well-meaning but flawed special tax scheme for foreigners. Then there’s the expectation by international professionals that working in Denmark will contribute to their global career, in case they choose to move on after a while rather than settle down here. That perception doesn’t exist at the moment.

More than anything though, I think Denmark lacks a fundamentally open and international job market, where foreign professionals feel that opportunities are available to them irrespective of their local ‘network’ or their command of Danish and the Danish way (something that international knowledge workers expect and that I don’t feel exists here to a sufficient extent, as I wrote before). Naturally there will always be positions that only native Danish speakers can and should fulfil, but the rest need to be made accessible also to those who haven’t lived their whole lives here. The horrific (and what I consider unconstitutional) Danish holiday pay system – which currently creates a bizarre situation where newcomers get no paid time off in their first 12-16 months of work in Denmark because they don’t have any holiday pay ‘accrued’ from last year – is a small example of how much the job market infrastructure here ignores people who haven’t lived and worked in Denmark their whole lives.

 
As I said before, attracting and retaining foreign talent is not just a matter of politics and policies, but also of mentality and habits. It’s business owners, managers and ordinary people who need to genuinely want to have an international work environment and society before the Danish job market can become truly open, dynamic and welcoming to outsiders. Selling Denmark’s soft values is the relevant and sensible way to go, but it will be much more successful if the legal and mental ‘infrastructures’ take a few leaps forward to that end.

Are Danes nationalist or just weird?

The other day I attended a fascinating lecture titled “why are the Danes weird?” delivered by a Danish anthropologist from the Living Institute. Personally I don’t find the Danes weird by any means – in fact, I can think of several other European nationalities that are much weirder. But I guess the word was chosen for its sensationalist appeal in order to attract a large audience. (I could never possibly resort to such cheap tactics myself…)

The lecture was organized by a wonderful non-profit organization called Expat in Denmark. They organize social events and gatherings for expats and foreign professionals in Denmark for the stated objective of professional and social networking, but with the more obvious purpose of providing chances for commiseration. There’s nothing quite like meeting other foreigners and sharing your horror stories and head-scratching moments to find out others have experienced them before. Having only been here a few months I quickly realized I’m considered a ‘rookie’ in their midst, and was even scorned as being “still in my honeymoon period”. Yes, I’m much too green here to be nearly as bitter as the some of the veterans there.

In any case the lecture provided the expected entertainment value and occasional anecdotes like the display of a world map with Denmark disproportionately magnified and placed in the center (“this is how most Danes view the world” said the lecturer), and the analogy between Denmark and the proverbial bumble bee (there is a myth that the bee is not supposed to be able to fly due to its ratio of wing size to body weight, just as the Danish economy is not supposed to work considering the extreme welfare system – the similarity being that clearly in both cases the assumptions have proven wrong and both the bumble bee and the Danish economy seem to be flying quite nicely).

The lecture also attempted to explain some of the ‘strangeness’ of the Danes – apparently strangeness is measurable and it seems Denmark measures quite high on the scale. So the cold and reserved demeanour (on which I commented myself in this blog) is really just the flip side of an ‘arms-length’ society respecting others’ privacy. And the homogeneous nature, stemming from biological and cultural similarity, also leads to an abundance of trust, often referred to as Denmark’s social capital. The talk also touched on the unique Danish mixed sense of superiority and inferiority, which led me to ponder upon something I always wondered about – can Danes be considered a nationalist bunch? Is that why they use any excuse to fly the flag?

OK, I realize I’m not the first person to say this, but I honestly don’t get the flag thing. Years ago, when I received my first birthday card from my svigermor, I asked my partner why there were Danish flag stickers on the envelope (those were the early days – before I became familiar with the Danish flag fetish). “Because a birthday is a celebration” he answered casually, puzzled at my strange question. “And what’s the connection between celebration and flags? Or more accurately – what’s the connection between me and the Danish flag?” I asked. “The flag has nothing to do with the state or nation – it’s just a mark of celebration” was his stern response.

Call me crazy, but having grown up in one hyper-nationalist country and spent several years in another, I tend to get quite sensitive to public displays of flag-affection. I usually call it nationalism. But every Dane I’ve ever met (including my partner) takes that as an offence and vehemently denies any connection between the ubiquity of the Danish flag and any sort of cultural nationalism (putting aside recent politics and a certain parliamentary party).

The more time I spend in Denmark the more I tend to agree that Danes never think about their nation or nationalism when they fly, hang, raise or attach the flag in their day-to-day lives (and let me be clear about that – the frequency with which the Danish flag is used puts to shame any other country I’ve ever visited). But what I’m sensing is a different kind of ‘nationalism’ – a certain conviction that Denmark is ‘the best country on earth’. I don’t think that’s the reason Danes love and display their flag, but it’s perhaps the reason why the flag and the letters ‘DAN’ or ‘DANSK’ find their way to so many brand names, logos and terms (think Dankort, Danfoss, Danica, Danish Crown and countless others, including my all-time favourite term ‘danskvand’). Less like American patriotism, more like Swiss pride. Maybe that’s just another manifestation of the ethnocentric world map shown in the lecture.

So my own conclusion is that I don’t believe the Danes are particularly nationalist (in the cultural rather than the political sense) or particularly weird. Why they’re so in love with their flag I still don’t understand. Perhaps it’s a little bit of both.

Culture shock, Danish style

As everyone knows, a culture shock is a complex phenomenon that can take a long time to grapple with. But for some reason my first culture shock in life was relatively easy to deal with: when I moved from Israel, my home country, to the US in the mid 90’s, things somehow felt very familiar. Perhaps it’s the fact that I came from what’s often referred to as “the 51st state”, but the mentality in New York didn’t seem that much different from Tel Aviv. Everything was bigger, bolder and more sophisticated, but within days I felt like a native New Yorker.

In 2001 I moved to London and things were a bit different. People seemed to talk a little differently, behave a little differently and interpret what I said a little differently. It was hard. Then again the language was still English and the mentality not that far off from the US. And London was as big, international and central as New York, so being a foreigner in that diverse medley of a megalopolis still felt comfortable. Strangely though, when I left London 9 years later to move to Copenhagen, I still didn’t dare call myself a Londoner.

Soon after arriving in Denmark earlier this year, I started experiencing a culture shock of a different kind. This time I decided to share my experiences in this blog. To be sure, the first few months were a real honeymoon period: late spring and summer in Copenhagen proved to be a beautiful time (well, maybe just summer – spring didn’t really seem to materialize this year. I’m hoping it’s a one off!), with lots of street vibe, cultural activities, great weather and good energy. I discovered a pedestrian-friendly cosmopolitan city that is manageable in size and beautiful in its urban landscape. I liked it. But soon reality set in and I began to realize that this time around the culture shock may be a trickier affair than in the past.

Was it the fact that this time around I had to learn a foreign language? Perhaps. And the fact that this foreign language sounded like an underwater mumble that made everyone around me seem completely drunk didn’t help. But after starting an intensive Danish language course it proved learnable after all, and besides – this is the only non English speaking country I know where flawless English is spoken by almost everyone, making it extremely easy to negotiate as a foreigner, without speaking a word of the local language. So surely that wasn’t the problem. Was it the cold Nordic demeanour, making people seem somewhat distant and standoffish? That sure didn’t make one feel warm and fuzzy about Denmark, but it wasn’t too different from London and the typical English behaviour, so that couldn’t be it either. There were a lot of other things I could think of – the shockingly high prices and shockingly high taxes, the small and homogeneous quality of the city and country, the unusually central role the state plays in people’s lives, and of course the much talked about tribal nature of Denmark which makes all foreigners feel they stick out like a sore thumb. All of which I wrote about extensively in this blog, and all of which undoubtedly played a role in my overall sense of bemusement and estrangement.

But what I think made it feel different this time around was the interesting tension between the extreme curiosity by the locals around my immigration and integration journey on the one hand, and on the other hand – the clear signal from society that foreigners are expected to fully integrate in Denmark, and that full integration means nothing less than becoming Danish, plain and simple. This polarized tension, making Denmark feel both incredibly welcoming and incredibly unwelcoming at the same time, was different from anything I felt in the US or the UK, where ‘cultural integration’ is less of interest as long as one simply ‘plays by the rules’. And this tension is in fact what got me to start sharing my experiences through a blog to begin with. (That, and the uncontrollable urge to tell Danes about the things in their culture that seem really funny or strange to outsiders…)

Having been here for about 7 months now, I know for sure that the honeymoon period is over, but the integration process has only just begun. As opposed to my previous ‘migrations’ for study or career purposes, this time I moved to my partner’s homeland with a clear intention to settle down. This makes the ‘integration question’ much more relevant to me this time: Can I become truly Danish with time? Do I even want to? To what extent will I be able to hold on to my own identity in such a close-knit tribal society? Will I be truly accepted without adopting Danishness through and through? These are some of the questions I’m struggling with these days. Only time will tell what the answers will be, and whether or when I will be able to call myself a Københavner. Meanwhile I’d like to take you with me on this journey. But be warned – it’s going be a bumpy ride.