Art as a catalyst

Sometimes it is hard to be a Norwegian. But, Norway is probably the only country in Europe which doesn’t have a substantial debt problem at the moment, or at least the only country whose cash problem is to have too much cash and no political guts to use it sensibly, but. I say but. There’s always a but. And the but is often connected to something with identity. Who the fuck wants a Norwegian identity? I know, I know. All the immigrants want that. Most ethnic Norwegians or 2nd generations immigrants want it too. But last summer it was a man killing 77 people and wounding 96, most of them youths, because he wanted to protect that identity. From what? Basically, from the machinations of his own sick mind. All those machinations he laid out in a 1500 page manifesto, written in English and published on the web the day he did his killings. This is of course good material for drama. Theater should and must be made of it. Poetry should be made, too. Paintings, films, whatever – events like this must be digested through artistic lenses. But this is Norway. And Norway hates art. And suddenly those families of the victims want to prohibit all use of the terrorist’s thoughts on stage. That is one of those moments when it is really embarrassing to be a Norwegian. Because those prohibitionists seem to be much better organized than the playwrights. Maybe much better funded? I don’t know. But I know that they are ultra Norwegian in their cry for censorship. And that these cries are machinations of their minds which resemble very much those of the killer. But they are quite normal Norwegians. With an identity like that, you don’t need enemies. You just go for the ordinary and suicidal.