Much to the bemusement of friends, I’ve long been fascinated with the nation of Finland. So strange is it apparently considered to admire this country in particular that some people – upon hearing of my interest for the first time – reply with…
“Are you sure you don’t mean Sweden?”.
I’m perfectly sure, I tell them, but my affection does broaden out to Scandinavia as a whole. Like many others in Britain, I’ve often been taken in by the magical propaganda of the Nordic tourism industry, according to which Sweden is a glistening socialist paradise replete with green fields, cut-diamond fjords, and blonde temptresses emerging from clearwater lakes.
It’s not like that of course, and nor is Denmark or Norway, sadly. While it’s true that these were once very coherent and unusually peaceful societies, they have over time succumbed to the same programme of ethnic displacement and eventual Islamisation as everyone else.
But there are gradations to this general malady. Finland remains the most well-preserved of Nordic societies, and currently has a better (by which I mean lower) Muslim population percentage than New Zealand, America, Australia and even Japan. Naturally I’m keen to visit the country, if only to see what has been lost in its neighbouring states.
Part of what fascinates me about Suomi is the famed resilience of its population. Finland was the only nation in the world to successfully defend itself against both Nazism and Communism. The victory of the Finnish ‘ghost army’ against the Soviet Union has now become legendary. A small yet brilliantly talented country saw off the full-might of the Red Army, unaided, and in the most extreme physical conditions imaginable.
So splendored and morally clean is modern Finnish history, that Finnish Marxists have never been able to degrade let alone wipe out Finnish patriotism. In Finland, it is still considered perfectly rational and non-‘hateful’ to be proud of ones ancestors. Compare this to the situation in Sweden, Denmark or (especially since 2011) Norway.
As I viewed the news yesterday, and saw the flickering embers of what used to be called ‘Stockholm’, my thoughts were drawn to Sverige’s Eastern neighbor, and to the question of what Finns think about when they see these riots. Are they sympathetic or chauvinistic? Do Finns feel an innate affiliation with other Scandinavians, or do they view themselves as a Finno-Ugric nation apart? Throughout this piece, I have referred to Finland as a ‘Nordic’ country. But this in-itself is controversial with many ethno-nationalists. Adolf Hitler, that humourless Austrian meth-head, believed that Finland wasn’t even part of Europe and only granted it ‘honorary Aryan’ status in his foreign policy. Since I despise ethno-nationalism and all its confusions, I’ll stick with ‘Nordic’ just to confuse them further.
Sweden, unlike Suomi, has a much-advertised problem with Neo-Nazism. As ever with claims originating from Left-wing publications, I can’t be sure whether these are always true, but I have seen some disturbing (photographic and literary) evidence of Swedish affection for the National Socialist idea online. In Finland this is rarer, and for good reason. For the majority of Europe, common memory of the Nazis has them as reprehensible but nevertheless impressive conquerors; something quite easy, then (if one sees nothing wrong with doing so) to romanticize. Not so in Finland. For Finns, the Nazis were both despicable and militarily inferior. The Finnish army drove the Nazis out of Lapland in 1944.
But it’s not just bravery that sets the country apart. Finland’s culture too is worthier of note than countless examples of greater fame. The Finnish language is (or should be) a European treasure, being one of those rare Western dialects that not only sounds seductive and intelligent, but also looks as or more beautiful when written down.
I notice that in the midst of the Islamisation of Europe, people often try to console themselves by mentioning fake ‘sanctuaries from Islam’ like Switzerland, Belgium and even Russia, to which presumably Europeans could flee in a time of crisis. As you’ll know, educated reader, these places are in even worse straits than Britain or France.
Finland by contrast, remains today what it was in World War 2, an island of strength and refusal, a relic of archaic health;
And, in the context of the future, perhaps a spacious lifeboat for those fleeing less courageous nations.