From commemoration to celebration: The making of the Norwegian Liberation and Veterans Day

Abstract

This article examines how and to what extent recent wars affect war commemoration. We do this through an analysis of the establishment of a Veterans Day in Norway, instituted on May 8, the traditional Liberation Day in memory of World War 2. We document how this merger has transformed May 8 from a low-key war commemoration to a celebration of the Armed Forces. Through our study, we emphasize how authorities attempt to form new mnemonic practices to give meaning to recent wars. These practices were informed by transnational events, but also constrained by deeply embedded national genres of commemoration. In Norway, the Liberation and Veterans Day has become a secluded event, attended by political and military leaders, but largely ignored by the public. We argue that commemorative practices that fail to resonate with shared experiences in society and are at odds with national identities will have limited appeal and support.

Keywords

memory genres militarization Norwegian society traveling memory Veterans Day war commemoration

Introduction

By the mid-1990s, Norwegians who came of age during World War 2 (WW2) were well into their retirement years. At the same time, a new generation of veterans from United Nations (UN) operations in the Middle East and the Balkans remained largely unrecognized by the Norwegian society. These two factors prompted Parliament to institute a Veterans Day in 1996. The date chosen was not just any day, but May 8, on which Liberation Day had first been celebrated and later commemorated since 1946. By combining Liberation and Veterans Day, the decision-makers aimed to kill two birds with one stone. In the face of an aging generation of WW2 veterans, the younger generation of UN veterans might prevent the death—literally speaking—of May 8 as a commemorative event. It would also enhance the status and recognition of UN veterans as Norwegian war veterans in general, a group mainly associated with those who participated in WW2.

At first, the new Veterans Day went largely unnoticed. May 8 continued to be commemorated as it had been in the past, with the laying of wreaths at cemeteries and other lieux de mémoires. Today, some 20 years later, the merged Liberation and Veterans Day has become a prominent arrangement attended by the highest political and military leadership. In contrast to the modest commemorative ceremonies of previous decades, it is now a military-centered event; in fact, we argue that a military celebration would be a more adequate description considering the dominant military presence. The high level of political representation also reflects a politicization of the event, in the sense that a ceremony that used to be arranged by private veterans organizations is now owned by the political and military establishments. In this article, we offer a two-step analysis of the political process leading up to the political decision to establish a Veterans Day, and how the event has developed over two decades. Then, we take a closer look at three critical aspects concerning how the event has been implemented in practice. The transformation of the Norwegian May 8 ritual demonstrates how the commemoration of war is neither a recollection of the past, nor a reflection of the political interests of the present, but formed through an intrinsic amalgamation of transnational influences (traveling memories), national mnemonic genres, and the political agenda of the present. Furthermore, mnemonic rituals which fail to tap into private memories of war, appear to have limited appeal and support among both the public at large and specific memory groups, such as the war veterans.

The many purposes of war commemoration

Acts of war commemoration serve several purposes. War commemoration has been an effective tool in state and nation building, binding citizens to the nation-state through a collective interpretation of shared historical events (Anderson, 2006; Hobsbawm and Ranger, 1983). Remembrance is never neutral, and authorities will strive to formulate hegemonic interpretations and representations of history (Ashplant et al., 2000). Such representations can be benign, healing scars and creating unity in divided societies, or can be malign, typically by mobilizing support for authoritarian regimes and militarism. At the same time, acts of commemoration are not only political; they can also encompass genuine expressions of mourning and compassion for wounded soldiers and bereaved families (Winter, 1995).

Starting in the 1970s, memories and remembrances of the Holocaust have contributed to a profound shift in how European societies remember and perceive war (Assmann and Conrad, 2010). National memories of patriotic wars have been infused by “a European discourse of guilt with respect to the Holocaust.” Today, narratives of war and genocide are inextricably linked, contributing to the shaping of a pan-European culture of human rights (Blacker and Etkind, 2013: 10–12; Levy and Sznaider, 2006; Winter, 2017). The transnational and border-crossing nature of memories, even before modern media technology, through mechanisms such as trade, colonialism and war, has been pointed out. Two minutes silence and “the cult of the war dead” are cited as prominent examples of how mnemonic practices travel (Erll, 2011).

All in all, it seems well established that both individual and collective memories, as well as mnemonic practices, are shaped by transnational, national, local, and individual mnemonic cultures and memories in a continuous dialectical process (Assmann and Conrad, 2010; Olick, 2007). Furthermore, the mobilization of affect is an important element in this dialectical process, as the meanings of commemoration practices are also shaped by the way people behave in reference to it (Sakamoto, 2015; Wagner-Pacifici and Schwartz, 1991). Moreover, memories of the past cannot be freely manipulated by the needs of the present. Mnemonic practices carry their own history and may be quite resistant to change. This “genre effect” counters the tendency to see commemorative texts as wholly constituted either by the history of which they refer to or by the present context in which they are produced (Olick, 1999: 384). A memory “genre” consists of the accumulated succession of commemorations, a memory of previous memories, which shape, guide and constrain attempts at inventions of new traditions (Cossu, 2011; Olick, 1999; Saito, 2006).

Studies of war commemoration in Western Europe have predominantly been concerned with the two world wars. A small, but growing literature has emerged on the remembrance of more recent wars in the Balkans, Middle East, and Afghanistan, and their impact on the ways in which Western societies commemorate war (Christensen, 2015; Danilova, 2014; King, 2010; Knudsen and Stage, 2012; Sørensen, 2017; Zehfuss, 2009). From a Western perspective, these wars are characterized by low casualty levels.¹ They can also be perceived as wars of choice that directly affect only a small section of the intervening societies. It follows that, unlike the commemoration of World War 1 (WW1) and WW2, which taps into a repertoire of shared experiences, the commemoration of contemporary wars must bridge experiences as dissimilar as life-threatening combat in Afghanistan or Iraq and passive news-watching at home, to construct collective memories.

To what extent have these recent wars affected how wars are commemorated in Western societies? First, studies show a distinct increase in the share number of commemorative events in several Western countries. It is interesting to note the parallel trajectories of the British, Danish, and Norwegian societies. During the first decade of the 2000s, all three countries invented new traditions, such as Armed Forces Day in the United Kingdom in 2007, a Flag-Flying Day for Denmark’s deployed personnel in 2009, and an Armed Forces Remembrance Day (on the last Sunday in November) in Norway in 2008 (Christensen, 2015; Danilova, 2015; Gustavsen and Haaland, in press). New mnemonic forms were also invented on established days, such as the transformation of Armistice Day (11 November) in the United Kingdom and Liberation Day (May 8) in Norway. Apparently, recent military operations, most notable in Afghanistan and Iraq, have reinvigorated war commemoration in these countries.

Another common feature is that the wars in themselves play a diminishing role in the mnemonic rituals. Commemorations have become de-contextualized (Danilova, 2014; King, 2010; Sørensen, 2017; Zehfuss, 2009). Fallen soldiers are remembered in their private capacities, as fathers and sons who died doing a job they had freely chosen. This de-contextualization allows soldiers, and implicitly also the military, to be honored, regardless of whether the war is seen as legitimate (King, 2010: 20). Most notably, Danilova argues, the revitalization and de-contextualization of war remembrance signify the reintroduction of nationalistic, even militaristic, framings of war commemoration. This “shift towards a military service-based commemoration,” she argues, “enables disengagement of the commemorative process from the context of confusing warfare in favour of the seemingly apolitical values of military culture and military service” (Danilova, 2015: 208). Such a development would constitute as sharp contrast to the last decades’ development of a universalistic and human rights-infused war memory in Western Europe. It would signify a return to, or rather a development of, a new nationalistic, patriotic and militarized memory culture in Western Europe.

In the following, we examine how these contradictory tendencies are reflected in the conversion of May 8 into a combined Liberation and Veterans Day in Norway. Based on Ministry of Defense archives, Parliamentary debates, official speeches, TV and newspaper coverage, and observation of the May 8 commemorations in Oslo in 2016, 2017, and 2018, our analysis shows that “[c]ommemoration is not just a relationship between past and present, nor are repeated commemorations just one such relation after another. Instead, commemoration—and by extension all mnemonic practices—are continuing processes of utterance and response” (Olick, 2007: 12)—between Norwegian authorities and society, between the memory of distant and recent wars, and between past and present commemorations. More specifically, our study adds to the literature with a detailed analysis of the development of a new commemorative practice, showing that, despite obvious transnational influences, attempts to emulate foreign commemorative practices have to chime with established national frames of references, cultural practices and commemorative genres to gain public appeal and win public approval. Furthermore, commemorative practices that fail to resonate with broadly shared experiences will have limited appeal and support. In Norway, the combined Liberation and Veteran’s Day has become a secluded event, attended by political and military leaders, but largely ignored by the wider society, a society that has generally been unaffected by Norway’s recent military engagements. Even the veterans themselves have shown limited interest in the new ceremonies, indicating that the chosen forms of commemoration have largely failed to tap into the soldiers’ private memories of war.

The development of May 8 as a commemorative day

The Norwegian memory landscape

Collective remembrance of war in Norway has evolved largely in accordance with broad European trends, as discussed above. Most notable is the shift from a national patriotic memory culture to a more universalistic, diversified, and self-critical collective memory of Norway’s role in WW2 (Bauerkämper et al., 2014). A few significant events illustrate this development. The national patriotic memory was captured and displayed by the opening of a museum dedicated to the Norwegian resistance struggle in Oslo in 1970. The exhibition highlights the military struggle against a predominant military enemy who also committed crimes against humanity (Reinhold, 2014). As in many European countries, the 1990s saw the emergence of a more self-critical examination of Norway’s role during the war. In 1992, King Harald held a seminal speech expressing regrets over the lacking recognition of the “partisans,” a small group of Norwegians who had conducted clandestine operations for the Soviet Union against the Germans in Northern Norway during WW2, and for that were distrusted and subject to police surveillance for decades after the war ended (Holtsmark, 2015: 440–441). Norwegian complicity in the arrest and deportation of the Norwegian Jews and the plundering of Jewish property became a subject of public debate in the 1990s and a government-appointed inquiry (NOU, 1997), resulting in a Parliamentary decision on reparation payments. The emergence of a more diversified and universalistic WW2 memory was embodied in the opening of a Center for Studies of Holocaust and Religious Minorities in 2006, housing a WW2 exhibition on the Holocaust and the fate of the Norwegian Jews (Reinhold, 2014). Another expression of these policies of regret was the apology by the Prime Minister to former spouses of German soldiers and their children in 2000, for the humiliating treatment they had suffered after the war (Bauerkämper et al., 2014: 76). Also in this case (a modest), economic compensation was awarded (Stortinget, 2005). In the next sections, we examine how the May 8 commemoration interacted with these changes in the Norwegian memory landscape.

Commemorating May 8: 1945–1995

Since 1946, May 8 has been the national day of commemoration of WW2 in Norway. The traditional patriotic memory commemorated on this day has two main elements. The first element is the armed resistance by the underground home front and Norwegian and allied forces operating primarily from England. An equally important element in the patriotic memory is the civilian resistance against attempts to Nazify Norwegian society during the occupation. The civilian resistance, or so-called holdningskamp (a battle of attitudes), consisted of clandestine actions such as spreading of illegal information as well as professional groups (such as teachers, judges, and clergy) and volunteer organizations (such as sports clubs) disobeying the attempts of the occupation regime to Nazify Norwegian society. The memory of the holdningskamp allowed the inclusion of most Norwegians in a united and victorious struggle for freedom and independence (Bauerkämper et al., 2014; Lenz and Nilssen, 2011). After WW2, remembrance focused on local erections of memorial stones with inscriptions of the names of those who had lost their lives in the resistance. As veteran organizations were established in the 1950s and 1960s, simple ceremonies consisting of wreath laying and speeches were initiated. Several of these organizations grew out of the civilian resistance movements (such as the Illegal Press Association, the Association of Political Prisoners, and the War Invalids Association, all of which formed in the decades after WW2 (Kverndokk, 2000)) and included prominent post-WW2 leaders.² The first large-scale commemoration took place on the 10th anniversary of the end of WW2 in 1955, and included a veterans’ parade, 2minutes silence, 10minutes chiming of church bells, a fly-over by Norwegian and central allies’ fighter planes, speeches by the Crown Prince, and wreath laying at the Monument of the fallen patriots at Akershus Fortress (later known as the Execution place). The day was again commemorated in grand fashion on the 25th anniversary in 1970 and 50th in 1995, with, among other things, a veterans’ parade down the main thoroughfare in Oslo. The Royal Family was always present at the main national anniversaries. Between these grand celebrations, modest wreath laying ceremonies at local and national monuments dedicated to the fallen, remained the main content of the day. May 8 never became a public holiday. Compared to 17 May, the nation’s birthday, which is a public holiday celebrated by children’s parades in every corner of the kingdom (Elgenius, 2009), May 8 commemorations remained as modest veteran arrangements throughout the Cold War.

1995–2010: the slow beginnings of a shared day

These stable and uncontroversial commemorations were challenged by two developments in the first post-Cold War decade (Stortinget, 1996a).³ First, the aging of the immediate witnesses of WW2, who were in fact themselves the organizers of the commemoration ceremonies. Second, a new generation of UN veterans, having served during UN operations in Africa, the Middle East, and the Balkans, was growing in numbers and in public attention. Many of these veterans were civilians who had enlisted for one year and then served in one or more UN deployments. However, unlike the WW2 veterans, whose backgrounds were a mix of regular soldiers and members of the military and civilian resistance, the common denominator of the UN veterans was their military experience.

A few months after the 50th anniversary of the end of WW2, Hans Røsjorde, a member of the populist Progress Party and the Standing Committee on Defense in Parliament, as well as a lifelong “friend of the Armed Forces,” proposed an annual event at which veterans could “gather around their experiences and potential problems,” making them “visible in the landscape” (Stortinget, 1996a).⁴

May 8—commemorated as Liberation Day—was one of several dates considered for the new Veterans Day. Two controversies surfaced in the hearings before the parliamentary vote. The first concerned the extent to which WW2 was an exclusive historical event, in which Nazism was defeated, and whether adding commemorations of later conflicts to the same day would diminish the memory of this seminal event. The second controversial topic was whether adding a Veterans Day would reduce the visibility of the civilian veterans of WW2. Several WW2 veteran organizations expressed their reservations:⁵ Milorg 13130, representing veterans of the military resistance movement, urged the Government,

Do not destroy the Norwegian people’s remembrance day on May 8. This day—the 8th of May—was a national liberation day which concerned the whole Norwegian population, and must in future remain an official Flag Day, with a celebration directed especially toward our youth [ … ] of our military as well as our civilian resistance which contributed to giving us back our freedom.

The bill nevertheless received the support of a unanimous Parliament, thereby altering the official status of May 8. The decision passed without debate, as Parliament explicitly stated that it was up to the veteran organizations themselves to “fill the day with content” (Stortinget, 1996b: 4336).⁶ Parliament also noted that Norway has no tradition for “military parades and that kind of celebration.” As a result, the observance of May 8 remained broadly similar as before. An aging cohort of WW2 veterans, commemorating the end of WW2, mainly attended it (Kverndokk, 2000: 58). Simple ceremonies typically included the singing of national hymns, wreath laying, and a short speech. Speeches would focus on a unified national struggle against the occupiers, remembrance of and gratitude to “those who gave their lives so that we should live in freedom,” and calls for younger generations not to take peace, liberty, and democracy for granted (Kverndokk, 2000: 80). Veterans often held the speeches. Senior political figures, such as the prime minister, foreign minister, or president of parliament, did not play a prominent role in the commemoration ceremonies, with the exception of a short ceremony at the Place of Execution (Retterstedet) at Akershus Fortress in Oslo, where the political leadership at the Defense Ministry often held the speeches.⁷ Attempts to bring contemporary issues such as the size of the defense budget into May 8 speeches were often rebuked by the veteran organizations (Kverndokk, 2000: 78). Both religious and military symbols were largely absent from the ceremonies, reflecting a secular, non-military Norwegian culture.

Militarizing May 8

Toward the end of the first decade of the new millennium, things started to change. By then, Norway had withdrawn from the Balkans and was deeply involved in The North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s (NATO’s) war in Afghanistan. Norway agreed to take over one of NATO’s so-called Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Northern Afghanistan in 2005, a relatively peaceful place at first. By 2010, however, the 500 Norwegian troops deployed to Maimane and Mazar-e-Sharif were regularly involved in fighting and 2010 become the deadliest year for Norway throughout the entire mission with five fatalities. Because of these new international engagements, there was growing political awareness about veteran issues, and in 2011, the Government presented a Plan of Action on veteran policy (Departementene, 2011). As part of a broad initiative to better recognize Norway’s veteran population, the Government decided that Liberation and Veterans Day should be given a higher profile as it is the annual occasion at which Government and Parliament publicly recognized the Norwegian veteran population (Note to the Defense Minister from the Department of Personnel, Ministry of Defense (MoD), 23 June 2010 (MoD archives)). There were also practical concerns: eight homecoming ceremonies each year, May 8, October 24 (UN Day), and Memorial Day in November required political attendance, and the Ministry wanted to lay out a consistent policy. Thus, from previously voicing their distinct disengagement, the Liberation and Veterans Day now became a flagship arrangement used by the political leadership to signal renewed concern for veterans’ affairs. The Defense Ministry, the Defense Staff and Prime Minister’s Office took the lead in working out the principles of how the event should be observed hereafter. Several organizations were invited to take part in the planning (the military unions, veterans organizations, labor unions, the Church of Norway, a naval museum, and the Norwegian Society for Sea Rescue), although with a distinct majority of military participants. In the invitation to a brainstorming meeting, the Government spelled out its ambitions: it wanted to increase the prominence of May 8, linking old and new generations of veterans, with wider involvement of society at large, veterans and their families (Letter from MoD, 17 December 2010 (MoD Archives)). In another letter, the MoD clearly stated their overall objective: “the whole of society must take part in honoring our veterans” (Letter from MoD, 1 March 2011 (MoD Archives)). The main event would be a national ceremony in Oslo hosted by the Government with high-level political presence, including the Prime Minister, Defense Minister, President of the Parliament and leader of the Standing Committee on Foreign Affairs and Defense. The main emphasis should be on veterans of UN and NATO-led operations up to the present day. In addition to the main event in the capital, municipalities were encouraged to conduct arrangements at the local level in line with their own traditions (Letter from MoD to Norwegian municipalities, 1 March 2011(MoD Archives)).

The final program of the 2011 ceremony displayed an ambitious itinerary consisting of various activities targeting the need to maintain the day’s traditional meaning, while also reinforcing its new significance. Traditional ceremonies, such as the raising of the flag in the morning and laying of wreaths at the execution ground and in the memorial grove at Akershus Fortress, continued as before. New initiatives included a church service in Oslo Cathedral with a parade to and from Akershus Fortress—the main locus of the day—a lunch and evening reception for specially invited guests, and a family-friendly fair at Akershus Fortress, where a small-scale military camp was set up. Visitors could see military equipment, try vehicles, talk to soldiers, and visit a frigate in the harbor—all while eating hot dogs and drinking coffee. The main event was the medal ceremony in the afternoon at which three veterans were awarded the War Cross, the highest decoration in Norway, and awarded for the first time for acts of valor in operations after WW2. As part of the ceremonial program, the Prime Minister spoke, the Royal Guard drill team performed, and there was a fly-over by F-16 fighter planes.

All in all, from one year to another, commemoration of Liberation Day had been turned into a celebration of the Norwegian Armed Forces in general, and more specifically, their contributions to recent wars.⁸ The new “mnemonic form” of the day, that is, a day to honor military veterans and to remember and honor the Armed Forces, existed in many allied countries, most notably the United States and United Kingdom, two close allies with long traditions of expeditionary warfare. At the same time, the ceremony had elements of previous large-scale Norwegian commemorations, such as the 50th anniversary of the end of WW2 in 1995: wreath laying at the national monument at Akershus Fortress and a speech by the head of state, a fly-over by F-16s, and a small parade. Other elements were new, such as the medal awarding ceremony and the family-friendly military fair. The new Liberation and Veterans Day thus consisted of imported, transcultural mnemonic practices (a parade, awarding of medals) added to and infused with an old mnemonic form of the Norwegian Liberation Day (Erll, 2011: 14). However, as it turned out, the authorities’ attempt to invent new traditions met with resistance since they collided with other elements of Norwegian culture and a commemorative genre. Several contentious issues surfaced and the program was modified several times to meet the public’s and veterans’ expectations. The first point of controversy after the inauguration in 2011 was the role of the Norwegian King, Harald V.

Not too political: the King versus the Prime Minister

The 2011 Liberation and Veterans Day attracted a lot of media attention, although it was not the day itself that received most coverage. It was the fact that the King had not been invited. At the main event—the medal ceremony—the then Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg from the Labor Party awarded the War Cross to three soldiers. The fact that the King had not been invited to perform this duty was widely criticized; the ensuing debate touched on the symbolic role of the King on a day like this. In a poll carried out by Norway’s largest newspaper, 75% replied that they believed the King should have presented the War Cross; only 9% agreed the Prime Minister should perform this task (Johnsen et al., 2011). A Facebook group called “For King and Country, not for Jens (first name of the PM) and the Labor Party” soon counted 11,000 members, and Norway’s most famous living member of the resistance movement, Gunnar Sønsteby, commented to the press that he “missed the King” (NTB, 2011a).⁹ The political opposition reacted strongly as well, and summoned the Prime Minister to Parliament to explain the situation. Most political parties voiced their discontent with how the situation was handled, and the leader of the Progress Party demanded that the Prime Minister apologize to the King for the manner in which he had been treated. Although the Prime Minister was unwilling at first to admit being at fault, he did state that next year “things will be done differently” (NTB, 2011b). And they were; since 2012, the King has been present at every ceremony, inspecting the troops and awarding the War Cross.

The position of the King on this day, and the widespread reaction to his absence, shed an interesting light on his symbolic role as a tangible link between past and present, and between soldiers and the nation. In the Norwegian WW2 narrative, the King represents a unique point of connection between past and present. His grandfather, King Haakon, was a prominent symbol of national resistance and unity during WW2, and was widely considered to have played a pivotal role in refusing to cooperate with the occupiers and in maintaining morale through radio speeches broadcasted by the BBC. Furthermore, his son, the later King Olav, was Chief of Defense during WW2. The pictures of their return from exile in June 1945 are iconic, and more than anything symbolizes Norway’s freedom and independence. Thus, to many Norwegians, the King embodies a sense of continuity between the wartime past and contemporary society. The King and the Royal family have also been at the core of previous May 8 commemorations. The King opened the Resistance Museum in 1970, and on the 50th anniversary of the liberation in 1995, the Royal family was the pivot of the celebration (NRK, 1995). King Harald’s speech in 1992, resurrecting the status of the WW2 “partisans,” was yet another example of the monarchs’ close personal relationship to WW2 memories. Throughout his reign, King Harald has also maintained a close relationship with the Armed Forces, serving as their symbolic head, holding the rank of a four star general of all three branches. As the symbolic head of state, he is seen as a stable force in Norwegian society, unlike politicians who serve in their role only for a temporary period. The King’s neutrality augments his national significance as a unifying figure transcending political differences—which the title of the popular Facebook group so pointedly expressed. To exclude him was perceived as an attempt to exploit the sacrifices of the military to score political points. In other words, it was perceived not as an unsuitable militarization of Liberation day, but as an unsuitable politicization of the day. Furthermore, it was in blatant breach of the Norwegian commemorative genre (as expressed on both Liberation and National Day (May 8 and 17)) in which the Royal family plays the main part.

Not too visible: the choice of venue

The choice of venue for the new ceremonies was also a matter of debate during the planning of the 2011 commemorations, as well as those of the following years. Akershus Fortress, a medieval stronghold (a 10-minute walk from Oslo’s main boulevard), was a natural choice. It was already used for military homecoming ceremonies and was an important WW2 commemoration site. It also has strong bonds with the military institution. The Ministry of Defense, Chief of Defense, and other sections of the military have their offices here. Two military museums and the national WW2 monument are located here too. Even though it is a popular tourist attraction, it is not an area where people are out and about. There are few shops and cafes in the vicinity, and it is pretty deserted after office hours and during weekends. Consequently, the ceremonies, although open to the public, were in practice confined to people actively seeking them out. The largest military union proposed during the planning stage to hold the main event, the medal ceremony, in front of the Royal Castle, an open square located at the top of Oslo’s main thoroughfare, and adjacent to one of the main transportation hubs in the capital. The choice would have made the ceremony visible to a great number of people going about their daily business. However, as noted by one of the WW2 veteran organizations at the original hearing, “It is well known that the Norwegian people are opposed to military parades” (Letter from Milorg 013130, 27.11.1995 (Røsjorde, in press)). Nevertheless, attempts were made in 2011 and 2012 to heighten awareness of the ceremonies. Veterans accompanied by a military marching band were supposed to walk in dignified fashion from Akershus to Oslo Cathedral, giving onlookers an opportunity to see and greet the veterans. In both years, however, the route and timing of the parade failed. In the first year, the shortest distance was chosen and the procession marched down a quiet street largely unnoticed. The year after, the parade was scheduled to pass the Parliament building, copying the 1995 ceremony, where the President of the Parliament and other MPs would be waiting to greet them. As it turned out, however, poor timing meant the parade arrived a few minutes early, and by the time the politicians had come out to greet them, it had already passed by.¹⁰ Thus, after the two half-hearted attempts to expand the ceremony beyond the Akershus area, the policy was abandoned.

The choice of venue placed considerable constraints on the day’s visibility and presence in the public sphere. A media campaign ensured coverage in the national press and created at least some public awareness in 2011. However, as the new ceremony found its form, the media lost interest and the coverage dwindled. In 2011, an estimated 6000–7000 people attended the event at Akershus, which the arrangers considered a “good number”. Clement weather and the fact that the ceremony was held on a weekend were viewed as contributing to the strong turnout; in comparison, a year later, when May 8 fell on a regular week day, only about 2500–3000 people attended. In spite of the media campaign and attendance by local political and military figures at ceremonies throughout the country, Liberation and Veterans Day goes by unnoticed by the vast majority of the Norwegian public. As such, the authorities’ stated goal, that “the entire society should take part in honoring our veterans,” was not met. Evaluation reports nevertheless show that the organizers were content with the turnout, but noted that attendance by the Armed Forces themselves and younger veterans was somewhat disappointing (Reports from the Defense Staff Assessment Teams 16 June 2012 and 16 August 2013 (MoD Archives). As the new Liberation and Veterans Day found its form, it became apparent that the stated goal of a broad, society-wide recognition of the veterans was primarily achieved through recognition by their political leaders rather than the public at large. A large-scale militarized celebration appeared to be at odds with a Norwegian self-image as “beacon of peace” (Bauerkämper, 2014) and a force for good (Haaland, 2018), as testified by the children’s parade on the national day, the awarding of the Nobel peace prize, Norway’s efforts to claim a role for itself as international peace broker and the “rose parades” in response to the right wing terror attacks in Oslo and at Utøya in 2011 (NRK, 2011). Furthermore, the Armed Forces have traditionally been a citizen-soldier force, deeply embedded in Norwegian society (Gustavsen and Haaland, in press; Haaland, 2010), and soldiers who have left the Armed Forces, and those still serving, are reluctant to see themselves as veterans (Gustavsen, 2016).

Commemoration without war

As mentioned above, the de-contextualization of commemoration, that is the separation of the participants from the actual war they have fought, allows for the severing of the commemorative process from the context of warfare in favor of the seemingly apolitical values of support to the troops. Soldiers are commemorated as both heroes and victims of war, and the cost of war incurred by the other side, or innocent third parties, is neglected (Danilova, 2015: 208). They are portrayed as professionals doing what they loved, or in their private capacities as husbands, sons, and fathers, typically as caring individuals with a great sense of humor (King, 2010), making soldiers and their sacrifices a private matter rather than an element of state policy.

The speeches delivered by the Prime Minister and Minister of Defense on May 8, which have been noticeably consistent over the years, convey a slightly different message. In these speeches, the patriotic memory of WW2 is employed to justify Norway’s participation in contemporary wars. The notion of Norway’s national values has been the central message, presented as the essence of what the veterans fight for—regardless of mission or generation. In 2011, the Minister of Defense addressed the audience with the words: “You who are here today have a lot in common. Regardless of generation or operation, you have fought for the same values: freedom, democracy and basic human rights” (Faremo, 2011). Following in her footsteps, the Prime Minister emphasized the “long and unbroken line from the resistance fight during WW2 to the fights taking place in Libya and Afghanistan today.[ … ] The soldiers in international operations today fight for the same values that the generations before them helped to secure” (Stoltenberg, 2011). Five years later, in 2016, the Prime Minister’s speech was remarkably similar. She said, “there runs a line from the sound of canons at Oscarsborg an April night in 1940,¹¹ to the Norwegian soldier on a hill overlooking Kabul” (Solberg, 2016). In 2018, the Defense Minister evoked the same analogy, drawing an imaginary line “from the coast artillery which repulsed the first navy attacks in April 1940, to the border guards in Pasvik, to the Norwegian soldier who trains and guides his Iraqi and Afghan colleagues” (Bakke-Jensen, 2018). In her 2016 speech, Prime Minister Solberg commended the veterans for their willingness

to sacrifice everything. Both at home and abroad. For peace and security. And for the values Norway is founded on: freedom, democracy, tolerance and human dignity.[ … ] Values that are the very foundation so we who live in Norway can say what we want, believe what we want, and live as we want.

The speeches establish a sense of historical continuity, one of the most important characteristics of the invention of traditions, according to Hobsbawm (1983). The traditional memory landscape “of a suitable historic past,” to quote Hobsbawm, is utilized, whereas the more self-critical WW2 memories, as well as the on-going war(s), are largely absent in the ceremonies and speeches.

Two exception to this general impression may illustrate this conscious political choice. The first occurred in 2015. Prior to the 70th anniversary of the end of WW2, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) ordered an alternative, and more inclusive, May 8 commemoration. The Ministry noted in an internal document that an unsatisfactory commemoration of the 70th anniversary would be met with public criticism, showing that public opinion was of great concern to the MoD. Therefore, the goal this year was mainly to acknowledge everyone who took part in the struggle for Norway’s liberation, both civilians and military personnel; to maintain and develop a united memory of WW2, and to honor the few remaining veterans from this war. Special guests on this day were representatives of both wrongfully treated groups, such as Norwegian Jews and Romani, and civilian groups who had engaged in a more subdued form of resistance. In her speech, the Prime Minister mentioned the civilian resistance— referring to the teachers, the unions, the church and sports associations, as well as the “deportation of Jews and Rom as a dark chapter in Norwegian history” (Solberg, 2015). These statements echoed the speech made by the president of the Parliament on May 8 in 1995, in which she articulated the new self-critical memory of WW2: The treatment of those who suffered “because their fathers” made the wrong choice during the war” and the women who elicited German soldiers, as well as the harsh repression of the Sami population were mentioned as less honorable moments in Norwegian history and aspects of Norwegian nationalism “which we are not proud of” (NRK, 1995). Thus, the 2015 event allowed for a broader and more nuanced focus on the problematic set of values concerning the participation in war. In the following years, however, a national patriotic memory of WW2, and a military-centered celebration of the Armed Forces again constituted the main substance of the ceremony.

The second exception is one element of the May 8 ceremony that at times entails a more direct reference to contemporary wars. The last speaker at the main ceremony is a representative of the soldiers. Manuscripts are not made available, but listening to the speeches in 2016, 2017, and 2018 they brought an “on-the-ground” military representation of events into the ceremony. In 2017, the soldier’s speech focused on the need for a strong defense. Instead of reiterating the established script linking WW2 to the fight for freedom and democracy, the soldier rhetorically asked what would have happened in 1940 if Norway had had a strong and modern defense organization. He mentioned his own experience of fighting in Afghanistan, arguing that the same lessons could be drawn, namely the need for a strong, combat-ready military. The soldier repeated the soldiers’ motto—For King, Country, and the Honor of the Flag—and read out the names of soldiers from his unit who had lost their lives in Afghanistan. He also shared his experiences of the war with personal pathos: “War is small children without parents and parents who have lost their children.”

The content of the soldier’s speech may also indicate why the combined Liberation and Veterans Day has failed to appeal not only to the public, by also to the men and women in uniform. The overall absence of references to actual war experiences, and commendation of universal values such as peace, democracy, and freedom do not necessarily resonate with the soldiers’ personal experience of the mayhem of war.

Conclusion: militarized war commemoration within a strictly confined space

How are recent wars commemorated and how do recent wars affect war commemoration? After a decade of continuous adjustments, in which competing memories moved from the center to periphery and back again, the combined Liberation and Veterans Day has been transformed from a day of commemoration to a day of celebration of the armed forces, an honoring of the troops. As a result, it has become a secluded event attended by political and military leaders, while largely ignored by the public. The motivation for the transformation was contemporary political agendas, that is, the need to find new ways of honoring the armed forces for their participation in recent wars. The introduction of a new mnemonic ceremony in 2011, 15 years after the original Parliamentary decision, was a result of Norway’s participation in the new wars in general, and in Afghanistan in particular.

The new ceremony contained elements of the national commemorative genre, but also elements that were foreign to Norwegian traditions. Some of the new elements proved uncontroversial. For example, in 2013, a bike race called Veterans on Wheels was included in the official program. The race was launched the same year as the BBC program Harry’s Arctic Heroes, featuring injured British veterans, which was broadcasted by Norwegian national television. Both events underlined the importance of physical fitness for tackling mental and physical war injuries. However, other new rituals collided with certain aspects of the Norwegian memory genre. The presence of the Royal Family in war commemorations, the tradition of children’s, rather than military, parades, and the collective memory of the non-military and all-inclusive holdningskamp in WW2, were examples of such “path-dependencies” (Olick, 1999) which shaped, guided and constrained the authorities’ attempts to invent new traditions.

The ceremonies of May 8 remain in flux as new elements are continuously added. In 2017, there was a special emphasis on Norwegian participants in the so-called Germany Brigade (which took part in the occupation of Germany after WW2) and in 2018, the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) veterans were singled out for special attention, marking the 20th anniversary of Norway’s withdrawal from Southern Lebanon. The very recent or on-going wars or conflicts, and Norway’s role in them, are only briefly mentioned in a superficial manner. The national-patriotic memory of WW2 dominates the day. Speeches refer primarily to WW2, interpreted as a struggle for freedom, independence, democracy, tolerance and humanity. The rhetoric of an unbroken line from WW2 resistance to the wars in Afghanistan, Libya and Iraq attempts to legitimate recent military engagements by situating them within the Norwegian national patriotic genre of war commemoration. The more self-critical memory of WW2 is reserved for other occasions, such as Holocaust Day, commemorated on 27 January since 2002 (for a discussion, see (Lenz, 2014)). The memory of the civilian resistance is also excluded along with representatives of all groups except the military, on the main official commemoration of WW2. Other major societal developments, such as the terror attacks of 2011, in which 77 persons were killed by a far-right Norwegian extremist, are not reflected or mourned on May 8.

The conversion of May 8 has contributed to a narrowing, or rather compartmentalization of remembrance of WW2 in Norway. It has changed the official Norwegian commemoration of WW2, but due to low public support for the new mnemonic rituals, how Norwegian remember the past is most likely not affected by these changes. The Norwegian collective memory of WW2 remains a subject of debate and revision on other arenas than the May 8 celebration. Books, movies and TV-series constantly offer alternative, critical, but also traditional interpretations of the war (some recent examples are Karcher, 2018; Korsæth, 2018; Michelet, 2018, NRK, 2015; Zwart, 2017).

The absence of these multiple and contradictory perspectives may be one important explanation of why the May 8 commemoration has failed to engage the public at large. The predominance of a de-contextualized national-patriotic memory apparently does not affect or mobilize strong feelings in the population. The veterans themselves have shown limited interest in the new ceremonies, indicating that the chosen forms of commemoration have failed to tap into soldiers’ private memories of war. The actual war memories are defused by general reference to the defense of liberal values. Furthermore, Norway remains a society “in deep peace.” Very few Norwegians have been killed in UN and NATO operations since the 1950s, and the fallen have therefore not generated a sense of collective loss or unified struggle within the population. There are simply few losses to grieve.

Overall, Norway’s participation in recent wars has led to the militarization of the Liberation and Veteran’s Day on May 8, but partly as a consequence, the Norwegian population has not embraced it. As such, the Norwegian May 8 celebration demonstrates how commemorations are formed in an ongoing process of utterances and response between the past and the present, between transnational influences and national genres, between political interests and private memories, all part of the national self-definition process which is, as Olick points out, at the very heart of politics.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank our colleagues in the War and Society research group at IFS and Memory Studies’ three anonymous reviewers for very helpful comments to earlier versions of this article.

Notes

Author biographies

Torunn Laugen Haaland is an assistant professor at the Institute for Defense Studies at the Norwegian Armed Forces University College.

Elin Gustavsen is a sociologist and wrote her doctoral thesis about meaning making among Norwegian Afghanistan veterans and their partners. Her research has focused on the experience of war in the intersection between the individual-level meaning construction and cultural context.

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