The importance of knowing when not to say ‘now’

Sitting here in Southern Spain, my mind turned the other day – as whose wouldn't? – to the question of the separation of Norway from Sweden.  Fortunately, I had with me a book on Scandinavian history – as who doesn’t? – so I was able to satisfy my curiosity.

Funny story, actually. If only for what it shows of how much more effective deviousness and bad faith are in achieving great change, than mere heroism, war or even simple straight dealing.

Norway spent centuries and centuries under the rule of Denmark. But the Danes chose the wrong side in the Napoleonic Wars, so after Waterloo they got Norway taken away from them. Poor old Norwegians, though: no sooner could they begin to dream of running their own affairs, than they were handed over to the Swedes or, at least, to the Swedish king. He happened to be French and a former of Marshal of Napoleon’s, which is quite funny when you think about, since his side had just been beaten. Twice actually - once in 1814, but in the following year Napoleon forced the match into extra time, and got beaten again.

Still being handed over to a king was better than being handed over to a country. The king agreed to let the existing Norwegian institutions continue, in particular the parliament, which Norwegians called the ‘Storting’, which translates roughly as the ‘Great Thing’. 

That's a little curious from the British point of view, as the only great thing about parliament for most Brits is when it’s in recess and the politicians all go off on holiday. As it happens, I don’t agree with them because I find it good for my soul to get in the daily burst of moral indignation that parliament provides.

Anyway, the Storting continued to operate and tension between the two countries grew through most of the nineteenth century. On the one hand, the Swedish kings tried to muscle in on Norwegian affairs and extend their authority, while the Storting pushed back, trying to preserve and even extend its prerogatives. 

Something similar happened between England and Scotland, which also continued as two nations sharing a monarch long before they merged into a single state. In the British instance, however, the Scots eventually got absorbed, possibly because the English were wilier than the Swedes, but more likely because they could muster a lot more fire power than the Scots and had shown down the ages that they were more than prepared to use it.

At the turn of the century, a new conflict broke out between Sweden and Norway over a question that they would prove unable to resolve. And here’s where it becomes funny: it wasn’t one of those great questions that shake continents, of freedom and slavery, of the rights of subjects and the prerogatives of kings, of privilege and oppression. No, it was a matter of utter triviality.

And that’s not unusual. The American colonists’ break with the mother country was triggered by the price of tea. The First World War was precipitated by the assassination of an Austrian Grand Duke. The iron curtain collapsed over a PR blunder, when a press officer who didn’t know when the Berlin Wall was due to open, announced ‘well, now, I suppose’.

In Norway’s case it was over the demand to have separate consular representation from the Swedes. Not even separate ambassadors – just separate consuls. The two nations couldn’t agree the terms of the arrangement and the quarrel festered for years.

Things came to a head when a character called Christian Michelsen won a majority in the Storting. He precipitated matters by pushing through a measure to set up separate consulates without royal authority. Obviously the king wasn’t going for that, so he vetoed the legislation. Michelsen’s government resigned en bloc.

Now here it all comes down to a single word. Since Michelsen controlled the Storting, without him the king couldn’t appoint a government which would command a majority. He declared himself unable to form a government now.

Michelsen reported to the Storting that the king was no longer able to form a government at all, neatly failing to mention the word ‘now’. The picture Michelsen therefore painted was one of the king washing his hands of Norwegian affairs for good, so the Union was in effect over.

Christian Michelsen:
understood the need for discretion, even over a single word

That made it pretty much a done deal, apart from a bit of shouting. There were some stirring speeches, war funds voted in Sweden, troops moved around a bit. But not a shot was fired and good sense eventually prevailed. In 1905, Norway became independent.

This seems a perfect parable for so many human affairs, doesn’t it? A trivial matter precipitates great change. A noble goal is achieved by underhand means. But the Scandinavians settled the business without loss of life – for that at least they deserve admiration. 

And, as we bomb the Libyans into democracy, perhaps a little envy.