PETER WESSEL Z APFFE

Farewell Norway
BY PE TER WES SEL Z APFFE

T
his story—an interview with Jørgen, the “old I mean areas where visitors still run the risk of
man of the mountains”—did not turn out quite bumping into something that’s not in the brochure.
the way we expected. J��������������������������
ørgen’s�������������������
ideas are both un� Are you in favor of small public cabins or big
timely and extremely controversial. Even so, the hotels? Which do you think is better—highways,
editor doesn’t wish to waste the report, and besides, even railroads, aerial cable-lifts, or tunnels for cog
the most unlikely things sometimes have their purposes. railways—as a means of getting as many people as
possible into the heart of our alpine grandeur?

EDITOR : To get right to the point, sir, what do Hearts should not be exposed to heavy tourist traffic
you think is the best way to make our mountain at all. Up to 1910, maybe, it was appropriate to “open
ranges accessible to as many people as up the mountains.” Nowadays the need is quite the
possible—seeing that these areas are still, as far opposite—to lock up the few mountainous areas that
as recreation is concerned, undeveloped? are left. The last reserves. Not to people who are re�
ally their friends. Just to the ones called “engineer” and
JØRGEN: I beg your pardon? “restaurant chain.”

TRANSLATED BY PETER REED AND EDITED BY CECIEL VERHEIJ | Reference to original publication: Zapffe, P.W. (1993), Farewell Norway.
In P. Reed & D. Rothenberg (Eds.), Wisdom in the Open Air: The Norwegian Roots of Deep Ecology (pp. 52–59). (P. Reed, Trans.). Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press. For the version presented here on OpenAirPhilosophy edits were made by Ceciel Verheij. The essay was first
published as “Farvel Norge” in Norsk Tindeklubbens Jubileumsbok in 1958. Permission for publication on OpenAirPhilosophy generously
granted by University of Minnesota Press and by Berit og Peter Wessel Zapffes Fond.

ALL PHOTOGRAPHS ARE, UNLESS MENTIONED OTHERWISE, FROM ARCHIVE OF PETER WESSEL ZAPFFE, NATIONAL LIBRARY OF NORWAY
You mean, “wilderness preservation”? corpses by the twentieth-century treasure hunt. I am
“Preservation” is a pain to virgin wilderness, the same thinking of idiotic roads that are supposed to “ease ac�
way that a vaccination hurts a still healthy body. These cess,” scabby scars over moors and passes, through un�
days we do not even have the chance to “preserve wil� disturbed forests emptied of wildlife, along dried-up
derness.” The only hope is to save ourselves from the rivers and fished-out lakes, flanked by drifts of trash,
total norwegische Apparatlandschaft—Norwegian Tech� by the waste products of the last link in the metabo�
no-landscape. I have to say it in German, we don’t have lism of resource processing. Look at Vassfaret, look at
a word for it in our own language. Fæmundmarka. Words like “barbaric” or “vandalism”
do not describe what happened to those beautiful plac�
You mean, save ourselves from high tension lines es, we have to resort to words like “treason” to describe
and such? the rape that has been committed here. Look at Lake
I mean from the whole filthification of Norway. We Alta in Bardo—formerly a dream beach, seventy miles
have already desecrated the most beautiful places to of cloudberries and birch forests. Now, with a shout of
make room for foreign exchange factories: mountain victory, it has been transformed into thousands of acres
resorts. Concrete boxes called “Sunnycrest” and “Shady of foul, stinking, coal-black mire. They were going to
Glade” to entice asphalt gypsies who soon discover that dam the lake and drown the forest, and these eastern�
“Sunnycrest” is a parking lot and that the “moist air ers got worried that they wouldn’t be able to float their
from alpine cascades” is tainted by the avalanches of boats or pull their nets through the lake, because they’d
garbage from the tourist corral down below; while the get caught on the drowned trees. So they plan the dam
“silvery mountain brook” is sucked down the gullet of so that the water level will come to 60 feet above the
a hydro project up above. treetops. Nobody told them that in winter, when they
draw the water level down 120 feet lower than it used
Now, now (we say mildly), maybe it does get a to be, that the forest would hang high overhead, the
little tacky sometimes, and things happen so fast macabre skeletons of birch trees marching down the
nowadays that resorts will do almost anything to mountainside. You cannot land a boat on the shore,
keep their costs down. But think of all the people it’s just rocks and cliffs now; a nightmare-landscape,
who . . . it is the River Styx you are rowing in, Norway’s grave,
Who turn around in disgust with a lump in their Norway emptied to the dregs of its soul. And nobody
throat? Ah, they have competitors up there, do they? complains. Nobody wants to be a wet blanket at the
Ha. If it is going to be dog eat dog, I don’t really care celebration of Progress. Young peoples’ interests have
which dog eats which. already made the leap from farming to hanging out at
hamburger stands and girlie-mag racks. Hydropower
Whom are you thinking of, exactly? engineers come on the radio and say how sorry they
I am thinking of the plague of development. I mean the are for the poor little birch trees that unfortunately
mountain lakes turned into stone-dead, concrete-lined happened to be hindering the march of Progress. “We
tanks, garnished slag heaps from construction projects. need economic growth one way or the other,” they say.
I went trolling in one of those lakes last year. I caught They do it for the good of Norway.
a twenty-eight-pound rusty baby carriage. I am think�
ing of all the waterfalls dried up by hydro projects, and Things like that are unfortunate, I admit.
with them the waterfalls of the Norwegian spirit. I am But isn’t it a good thing that the village gets
thinking of mountain plateaus turned into shattered electricity?

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Of course—but that is not why they build the dams. Where is the “philosophy of life,” where is the “vision
That is only a come-on. The villages can neither finance of the future,” where is the goal that gives development
nor use all that hydropower. Buyers must be found, in� direction? What is Norway after? What is the idea, the
terest payments covered, we have to get people to build intention, the purpose, to its life as a nation?
factories and subdivisions to consume all that electric�
ity. The hydroproject has the village, not the other way Well. . . “The greatest happiness for the greatest
around. “Die ich reif, die Geister”—“the genie’s out of number,” or something like that. Just like
the bottle.” It’s too late for apologies, and no good to anywhere else in the world.
despair. Goodness knows there is enough reason to de� What you call “happiness,” my friend, is more a de�
spair. But the municipality is caught between a rock scription of our frivolous chase than a description of
and a hard place. Look at lake Gjende! In view of the actually being somewhere, having something. “Hap�
economic benefits they were supposed to get from the piness,” like anything else, can be a means to an end.
project, the farmers there demanded half a million But nothing can help a person or a people to “get”
dollars a year in compensation if it wasn’t built. These happiness unless they have the ability to be happy in
same farmers can’t “afford” to let their daughters sit themselves. Those who throw away the present for the
around at home and wait for a man who doesn’t know sake of the future will never achieve it. People have
the first thing about investments, but is free enough tried that way off and on for over six thousand years.
with kindness and affection. No—send them down to Where do you suppose it’s gotten us, we who sit here,
the streets of the big city. They can earn a lot there: the result of a hundred generations’ blood, sweat, and
twenty dollars a night, almost eight thousand a year. tears? We still have a few priceless, uninfected bits of
Multiply that by hundreds of girls! It’s no worse than Norwegian wilderness left that could help us bear life
prostituting the landscape, anyways. the way it is. Instead we blindly and to a man shove
real happiness aside and chase after shadows. From one
You’re joking, of course. “means” to another to another—and “means” to what?
It is only a matter of degree. We are in the grip of de� To a spiritual rescheduling of our loans, to a collec�
velopment Neanderthals. It is embarrassing that they tive psychological deficit that is only renewed, never
are descended from humans, these lummoxes with repaid. And pity the man who tries to slow down, to
blunt, sterile minds. They are not really alive, they can shout a warning. He’s an outsider, an enemy of the
only keep going on economic stimulants. We’re being people, he doesn’t deserve to live. Nobody even both�
replaced by people who don’t deserve a healthy Earth. ers to argue with him, they just toss him away, with all
People for whom the only important thing is how big the other garbage.
their paychecks are.
Now, just a minute. You make it sound like it’s
Yes, the self-reliant family made way for the somebody’s fault. Development, you know, feeds
money economy. But that’s inevitable, it’s just on itself, we can’t really rein it in or direct it
another part of development. If we want to get anymore. The population is always growing, they
something, we have to give something up. assert their demands, they can’t live on gardening
Let me tell you what “development” really is. “Develop� and sport fishing; they need more electricity, more
ment” is pure panic, an itching of the soul that has to be industry. It’s as plain as day. You can’t dispute it.
scratched and clawed at until every stone and every lit� Oh? And who said we should increase the population?
tle hill in the country is covered with incurable eczema.

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My dear Jørgen (we say, with an anxious glance at 96 percent of what makes life interesting, both for the
the way the conversation is going), you can’t very current and future generations. So, of course, we need
well stop life, can you? Life must go on! the clerks and the clerks need electricity so they can
There isn’t anything called “Life.” In any case, it is design new, endless housing developments for helpless
something that we have, not something that has us. It people who need electricity. And one day we’ll reach
has no metaphysical substance—that is just one of the ten million people.
clever myths we’ve made for ourselves to keep us from
staring truth in the face. The truth is life does not ap� By using up all of our natural resources, draining
pear from nothing, but is a result of the deliberate deci� the last wetland area, building atomic-powered
sions of every set of parents. As an old bachelor, I am greenhouse skyscrapers, we’ll be able to feed
sure of it. I made a decision to be childless, and I stick twelve or fifteen million.
to it. That’s how much your “life must go on” means. Wonderful. But it won’t stop there, you know. What
When man became self-conscious, that was the end of are you going to do when twenty million wage slaves
“life” as a natural force. Our awakening consciousness stand tight as blades of grass, from one end of the
laid that specter to rest. Or should have. country to the other, with the smell of each other’s
welfare wafting up their nostrils?
But the people—
. . . there’s obviously no stopping them. But the day will Not everyone will be a wage slave.
come when they’ll stop of their own accord. Today the Quite right. Some will drive bulldozers, others will scur�
total weight of the Norwegian population is 220.000 ry around picking up the droppings of herds of tourists.
tons. In this country, the only commonly shared goal And what do you think the tourists will come here to
is to increase, double, or quadruple the amount of see, anyway? Corrugated iron they have at home.
people. The God of our times is called Multiplier. He
is omnipotent and omnipresent. He guarantees that Well, there are the museums . . .
six times five is thirty, irrespective of whether this Ah, yes. I had forgotten about the museums. Somehow
amounts to shit or to lilies. Each and every new cradle it never occurred to me that everything worth seeing
is a temple in his honor. Rows of houses with rows of could be packed into a display case.
people; apartment blocks with blocks of people; mass
production of efficient people. In a world of mathema� Well, but nature takes care of itself. If the
ticians nobody bothers to ask what all these numbers population gets too high, there will be a war or
are supposed to mean. a plague.
And that’s what you want for your children.
Well, we need these people to maintain vital
industries and things, to innovate, to make things Well, actually I figure that by that time we’ll be
better. Besides, these social problems are being able to emigrate to Mars.
worked on by both public institutions and private Sure, and it’ll be exciting the first week. Eventually,
citizens, everyone is concerned about them. though, people will start worrying about how much to
Yes, the outlook for these problems is pretty grim if tax the uranium mines in order to keep the price of mar�
we can’t raise children to look after them. If there were garine down. Yes, yes—we can certainly look forward to
fewer people instead of more we would be in danger at least that relief: the whole thing will repeat itself.
that these problems would disappear, taking with them

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But you forget, Jørgen; people adapt. What seems it this way: the yet-unborn are always the majority. If you
like an impossible way of life to us will seem add up all the people living now and all those “waiting
commonplace to our descendants, who will never in the wings,” the sum is always infinite, no matter how
have experienced anything else. many actually get born. We can’t fit all the unborn on
True. A dog is happy being a dog. If our descendants the earth at the same time; every hour an astronomical
become dogs they surely won’t miss Beethoven. Only number of potential people are “cheated” out of life by
the transition will be hard. We’re going through that people deciding not to get pregnant. Ergo, it’s no more
transition now, our generation, the last that remem� barbaric to limit the present population to one million
bers what Norway was. We are homeless already, lin� than it would be to limit it to twenty million.
guistically and geographically. We have lost our sense
of place. Not like refugees, for even if their home is But what’s so special about a population of
forever closed to them it still lives in their dreams. exactly one million?
We’re homeless because we’ve sold nature’s innocence That’s just a number. But if we only had a million peo�
to the technological despots and made her into a rav� ple in Norway there’d be ample room for all. Everyone
aged whore; when we look to her we see not a smiling could have as much land as he was interested in culti�
face but a sickly death grin, blackened with swarming vating, empty beaches to build on, unexplored terrain
flies. There’s a bitter irony in Reiss Andersen’s poem: for skiing, all the fishing and hunting one could pos�
sibly want. Then we wouldn’t need to be “managed”
One must take a seven-league step by some bureaucracy. Life’s problems would not be
Away from the picture solved, but they would not be made worse.
In order to see it
The way the master wanted it seen. But a primitive society like the one you envision
couldn’t maintain a television system, for example.
Well, Jørgen, you certainly don’t mince words. Just so.
But people are going to call you a misanthropist.
Because I am thinking about the generations to come? But you also forget the most important thing:
They’re the ones who will become the “human cog Norway would become a power vacuum, militarily
wheels,” “the Wheel of Life,” as sculptor Gustav Vige� speaking. How long do you think it would take
land called it—have you seen the statue in the park before the vacuum were filled—by others?
in Oslo? Misanthropic? Because I think future gen� Ah, yes. We must continue to bring Norwegians into
erations should not have to suffer this fate? The word the world so that we don’t get invaded by the Russians.
means different things to different people. That’s something I had not considered.

But you wouldn’t go so far as to take someone’s life? Well, Jørgen, you’re old and wise. But why do
That would only increase suffering. There’s a world of you only talk about these things with your old
difference between saying we should level Oslo and say� mountaineering comrades? Surely they’re hardly a
ing we shouldn’t build a new Oslo in the middle of the philosophical bunch.
wilderness. When I say, with Nietzsche, “verdorben ist die I talk with them because in their sport is a deep phi�
Erde durch die Viel-zu-Vielen”—the earth is destroyed by losophy. It touches a piece of the incomprehensible,
the all-too-many—that doesn’t mean that I’d kill anyone. the magnificent, the consciousness-expanding cosmic
If someone has to die, I’d be the first to volunteer. Figure adventure of what it is to be a human being in the

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world. Its face is turned toward death and nature, not into the depths like mustard gas. You become purified,
toward the stilted, galling artificiality of human fel� and more: you get an antibody in your system, you
lowship. I talk with them about it because they still can go back into the world and remain immune. You
have some of their earthly nature intact, they live in a become an antibiotic in a degenerating world.
yet uncontaminated nature. From there will come the
fight to turn the tide, if it comes at all. Rocks may be Do you think it would do any good to talk about
dead, but they are not diseased. The more you climb, this to the youth?
the more your body purges itself of the poisons accu� Of course not. But it doesn’t matter. I belong to a van�
mulated in human society; when you have enough air ishing breed. That is why I say, “Farewell, Norway! The
under your heel, the poisons lose their grip and sink country is in foreign hands.”

Illustration for Farewell Norway by Sigmund Kvaløy Setreng

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