At the end of the 19th century politics opened for both fanatics, angels and idealists. The establishment was attacked from an irresponsible left, they said - since right had always been right. The ideas from the French Revolution emerged into claims for social liberty, equality and fraternity in the European neighbourhood. Not everywhere, and not among all humans. Only among men. Women still had to suffer from the teachings of Augustin fifteen hundred years ago. But the female part of the northwest European societies fought a battle to gain equality to what men had accomplished. Well, some of the female angels struggled, while the rest just got their rights as a result of the battle.
There were many angels fighting for human rights in the beginning of the previous century - mostly against the "right". As the century got along, politics changed. From presenting solutions for solving problems of living conditions into fighting with businesslike slogans. Politicians started to sell their face and their political party in front of the next election. To stay put in power, and sitting calmly on their parlamentary chairs. Politics became the art of illusionary festival talks. And, sadly enough, in some countries it turned into political terror. Controll of the human mind. Not only in dictatorships by threat and seductive promises, but also in democratic countries by pretending that a lie could be the very truth.
The last angel died in South-Africa. His name was Nelson Mandela. I am not another one to tell the story and wonders of this last angel. Neither to predict if the next one may come in Asia. My intention is to put the survey on how modern politicians can make fools of their voters, not by the acts of bribery or creating human agony such as those presented as catastofs on the media front pages. Simply show the small, decent ways of creating local delusion - and disappointment...
I will not focus on well known places or ways of international fraud, but visit a small and local event only known to a few - and long ago almost forgotten, just left in photos I was presented when visiting a village called Sørumsand in the southeast of democratic and peaceful Norway.
At the east entrance of Sørumsand you have to cross the longest river in Norway, Glomma. Before 1980 there were two bridges for the crossing to and from a little island i the middle of a strong current. A minor one like most bridges, and a white suspension bridge, both build in the 1920s.
In the 1960s prices in the property marked started to raise in Oslo and its nearest suburbs. People started to look around in the area for more reasonable living. Most of them looked to the west of Oslo, but those who went to the east of the capital discovered both cheaper lodging and surprising scenery. One of the most intriguing discoveries happened at the central town in Sørumcommunity, called Sørumsand because of its sandy beaches along Glomma. To cross the river, the visitors had to pass two old bridges, and nobody remained untouched by the view of the white suspension bridge among the green trees at its both ends. A lot of the turists parked to admire the bridge and the scenery of the swift current under the bridges. Some even decided to settle at Sørumsand because of this charming setting.
During the next years quite a few people settled, not only at Sørumsand, but also in the rural area around the river. A lot of the new settlers worked in Oslo or some of the other bigger places in the area. There were also quite a few that worked in the factories of Sørumsand, but did not live there. More and more people got a car and started to use it for work. After a while this created trafic problems on the two old and narrow bridges build for some horsedriven wagons and the few cars that existed in the 1920s. Two cars could not meet on the bridges, and trafic jam became all too common at the river crossing.
Cars became more and more important. Together with lost minutes in waiting to cross the narrow bridge, the scenery at Bingsfoss lost in competition. The politicians decided to build two new bridges, and tear down the old ones. A cry of protests was the result. The old suspension bridge was almost as the symbol of Sørumsand, and the reason for many to establish themselves in the area. Nobody - not even a politician - could eliminate this marvellous sight, admired by everyone!
The political elite assambled a massmeeting. The ones in position told the agitaded audience that they had checked all technical and legal concerns, and had ended up with this fatal decision. The ones in opposition did like Pilatus, twisted their hands informing their belief in the consideration of their fellow politicians. Nobody was calmed by their promises. A politician know when to search for alternatives when their position is threatened. Therefore one side soon changed from telling about all the effort to investigate the matter, into praising the local initiative. Naturally, the opposite group felt they were losing the grip of their future voters and started to talk of a possible referendum. Then others tried to sell their party even better, reminding there fellow politicians of democratic will. So - this horse-trading ended with the promise that the suspension bridge should survive as a pedestrian crossing. This behaviour from the politicians as cheerful toastmasters made the protests disappered. Everyone might have been happy. Since nobody pointed to the fact I have written in a book of mine ("Til kompost kan du bli", you might end up as compost). That politicians often let the bureaucrats do the dirty work. And the bureaucracy do not behave like toastmasters. When you ask a bureaucrat a question, you will have an answer that brings you out in the wildernes, where you are left...
Both bridges disappeared when the new ones were there.
Protests were again met by logical explanations. Not by the fact that the voters had been fooled. Now they were told about the necessity for the salmon to enter from the lower part of the river to the higher level by an arrangement built to allow the fish to achieve this, they had to tear down the beloved suspension bridge. At the other stream, where the minor bridge had been, was now a power plant. The only place to create the salmon "stairs", was in the current below the suspension bridge, and a combination was impossible according to legal and technical matters - or whatever the citizens were told this time.
Obiously there were nobody able to contradict this, and everyone had become conscience of the effort to protect environment. The fish had precedence to sceneries. And the bridge was gone. Nothing to do, other than admire the photos I was shown of what had been.
Nothing more for me, either, but to leave what had been. And fortunately I chose to drive into Sørumsand. Fortunately, because I had to stop by the railway station - or rather at the railway stations. This tiny town happened to have two stations. One main station for the local trains and the ones passing between Oslo and Stockholm. There was also a new station apart from this main one. New, but old in a way. It was the station for a steam train used decades ago. This veteran train could bring you for a moment into the past - and return. But I was not impressed by the old locomotive. What got my attention was a statue by the station. A statue of some military fellow with a long nose. Some children told me this was a comic figure familiar to every Norwegian, 91 Stomperud, who in the comic was said to live in Sørum - although the original was Swedish.
I did not care where this comic caracter had been created. It was more obious to me why he had been placed on a pedestal. Someone had wanted to tell the locals something. In Norwegian "getting a long nose" means that you had been left very disappointed, almost taken by the nose... Maybe this Stomperud was to remind the people of Sørumsand what to expect next time their politicians promised something. If so, this statue could have been errected in a numerous places around the world... if the angels do not return.
Yours Thor Thorstensen
There were many angels fighting for human rights in the beginning of the previous century - mostly against the "right". As the century got along, politics changed. From presenting solutions for solving problems of living conditions into fighting with businesslike slogans. Politicians started to sell their face and their political party in front of the next election. To stay put in power, and sitting calmly on their parlamentary chairs. Politics became the art of illusionary festival talks. And, sadly enough, in some countries it turned into political terror. Controll of the human mind. Not only in dictatorships by threat and seductive promises, but also in democratic countries by pretending that a lie could be the very truth.
The last angel died in South-Africa. His name was Nelson Mandela. I am not another one to tell the story and wonders of this last angel. Neither to predict if the next one may come in Asia. My intention is to put the survey on how modern politicians can make fools of their voters, not by the acts of bribery or creating human agony such as those presented as catastofs on the media front pages. Simply show the small, decent ways of creating local delusion - and disappointment...
I will not focus on well known places or ways of international fraud, but visit a small and local event only known to a few - and long ago almost forgotten, just left in photos I was presented when visiting a village called Sørumsand in the southeast of democratic and peaceful Norway.
At the east entrance of Sørumsand you have to cross the longest river in Norway, Glomma. Before 1980 there were two bridges for the crossing to and from a little island i the middle of a strong current. A minor one like most bridges, and a white suspension bridge, both build in the 1920s.
 |
| Bingsfoss before 1980, copied from Aasnes. |
During the next years quite a few people settled, not only at Sørumsand, but also in the rural area around the river. A lot of the new settlers worked in Oslo or some of the other bigger places in the area. There were also quite a few that worked in the factories of Sørumsand, but did not live there. More and more people got a car and started to use it for work. After a while this created trafic problems on the two old and narrow bridges build for some horsedriven wagons and the few cars that existed in the 1920s. Two cars could not meet on the bridges, and trafic jam became all too common at the river crossing.
Cars became more and more important. Together with lost minutes in waiting to cross the narrow bridge, the scenery at Bingsfoss lost in competition. The politicians decided to build two new bridges, and tear down the old ones. A cry of protests was the result. The old suspension bridge was almost as the symbol of Sørumsand, and the reason for many to establish themselves in the area. Nobody - not even a politician - could eliminate this marvellous sight, admired by everyone!
The political elite assambled a massmeeting. The ones in position told the agitaded audience that they had checked all technical and legal concerns, and had ended up with this fatal decision. The ones in opposition did like Pilatus, twisted their hands informing their belief in the consideration of their fellow politicians. Nobody was calmed by their promises. A politician know when to search for alternatives when their position is threatened. Therefore one side soon changed from telling about all the effort to investigate the matter, into praising the local initiative. Naturally, the opposite group felt they were losing the grip of their future voters and started to talk of a possible referendum. Then others tried to sell their party even better, reminding there fellow politicians of democratic will. So - this horse-trading ended with the promise that the suspension bridge should survive as a pedestrian crossing. This behaviour from the politicians as cheerful toastmasters made the protests disappered. Everyone might have been happy. Since nobody pointed to the fact I have written in a book of mine ("Til kompost kan du bli", you might end up as compost). That politicians often let the bureaucrats do the dirty work. And the bureaucracy do not behave like toastmasters. When you ask a bureaucrat a question, you will have an answer that brings you out in the wildernes, where you are left...
Both bridges disappeared when the new ones were there.
Protests were again met by logical explanations. Not by the fact that the voters had been fooled. Now they were told about the necessity for the salmon to enter from the lower part of the river to the higher level by an arrangement built to allow the fish to achieve this, they had to tear down the beloved suspension bridge. At the other stream, where the minor bridge had been, was now a power plant. The only place to create the salmon "stairs", was in the current below the suspension bridge, and a combination was impossible according to legal and technical matters - or whatever the citizens were told this time.
Obiously there were nobody able to contradict this, and everyone had become conscience of the effort to protect environment. The fish had precedence to sceneries. And the bridge was gone. Nothing to do, other than admire the photos I was shown of what had been.
Nothing more for me, either, but to leave what had been. And fortunately I chose to drive into Sørumsand. Fortunately, because I had to stop by the railway station - or rather at the railway stations. This tiny town happened to have two stations. One main station for the local trains and the ones passing between Oslo and Stockholm. There was also a new station apart from this main one. New, but old in a way. It was the station for a steam train used decades ago. This veteran train could bring you for a moment into the past - and return. But I was not impressed by the old locomotive. What got my attention was a statue by the station. A statue of some military fellow with a long nose. Some children told me this was a comic figure familiar to every Norwegian, 91 Stomperud, who in the comic was said to live in Sørum - although the original was Swedish. I did not care where this comic caracter had been created. It was more obious to me why he had been placed on a pedestal. Someone had wanted to tell the locals something. In Norwegian "getting a long nose" means that you had been left very disappointed, almost taken by the nose... Maybe this Stomperud was to remind the people of Sørumsand what to expect next time their politicians promised something. If so, this statue could have been errected in a numerous places around the world... if the angels do not return.
Yours Thor Thorstensen
