The Light of All Our Torches

On 10 December 2001, Levi Fragell was invited as President of IHEU to the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony conducted in the magnificent settings of the Oslo Town Hall. On 6 May 2001, in the same Hall, Levi Fragell’s own speech was delivered on the grand occasion of the 50th Anniversary Celebration of the Civil Confirmation Ceremony in Norway. Levi Fragell’s speech, as well as the Civil Confirmation Ceremony was transmitted on Sunday prime time television in Norway.

Your Royal Highness, Your Excellencies, Ladies and Gentlemen, and Honoured Confirmands,

In January of this year, 15-year-old Benjamin Hermansen from Holmlia in Oslo was murdered by racists and neo-Nazis. He died because of the colour of his skin. We remember him here today because he has become a symbol for one of the fundamental causes uniting humanists in Norway in this fledgling millennium Ð the fight to put an end to racism. And we remember him because he was confirmed here in the civil confirmation ceremony in Oslo City Hall just a year ago, sitting dressed in his finest where you are sitting now. His death was a terrible tragedy, but amidst all the pain, this sad episode has shown us something wonderful about young people, young people of many different colours in Norway Ð something we perhaps had not fully realized. We saw that young people with different beliefs, different dietary customs, different modes of dress and different family traditions, can hold one other and weep. We saw that they can mobilize thousands of people in a torchlight march against violence. I am a resident of Holmlia, and this experience will stay with me for the rest of my life.

We know that each minute, somewhere in the world, peopleÕs lives are being taken from them simply because they are different from others. We know that it can happen again, here in our own country. This is why the civil confirmation ceremony, again and again, will seek to shed light Ð the light of all our torches Ð on the cause of this, the greatest of all the moral failures of human civilization. And each of you must spread this light to your parents and grandparents. Teach them, teach us all, that being different is not evil or dangerous, but one of the gifts of nature.

‘I am not different’

Accepting our differences is only the first step, however. It is the means to an end, but not the end itself. Back in the 1970s, in an article I wrote for the Dagbladet daily newspaper about the denunciation of homosexual love, I used the clichŽ Òthose who feel differentlyÓ to describe homosexuals. Later, I received a letter from a lesbian woman. ÒI donÕt feel differently,Ó she wrote, Òmy feelings are just the same as yours. I am myself, not something different.Ó

It must be our goal to create a culture that truly acknowledges each individualÕs right to be him or herself. One day, the notions ÒdifferentÓ and Òfrom a foreign cultureÓ will not be used to describe other people.

Today we celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the civil confirmation ceremony, and I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that, historically, confirmation in Norway has also been a means of limiting young peopleÕs right to be themselves, to think their own thoughts, and to make their own choices. Until 1911, confirmation was required by law in Norway. In his classic novel, Poison, published in 1883, Alexander Kielland wrote of Abraham L¿vdahl, an upper-class boy who probably could have chosen not to be confirmed, if he had dared. But in practical terms, breaking a social convention like that would have been impossible for most people. All paths onward were blocked if one was unconfirmed. Osmund Sauamyra, in the same novel, was not even allowed to muster onboard a ship. No captain wanted an unconfirmed sailor, and Osmund tried to learn his catechism with the minister year after year, shaming his family and himself, until finally, at the age of 18, he was examined and confirmed. I hasten to add that confirmation in the church today is far more sensitive, and is open to all who feel natural ties to the church and its beliefs.

The affinity to tradition

Civil confirmation was introduced to provide a choice for young people who sought to preserve the best of a long-standing tradition, but who did not feel it was right to take part in a religious rite. Tradition is also important to humanists. Traditions bind us together with the people we love Ð as well as to those for whom we have no love. The latter is, in fact, one of the most important functions of traditions.

But traditions also pose a challenge to the individual’s right to be him or herself. Sometimes, our need for personal freedom comes into conflict with the beliefs and customs passed down through our families for generations. In the future, the civil confirmation movement will need to focus its efforts on supporting young women and men who wish to mark their independence in relation to traditions that, up to now, have been less well known within our borders. We pay tribute to Kadra, who has helped to generate awareness regarding the mutilation of young women’s bodies. However, we must take care not to jump to arrogant conclusions regarding the superiority of the morals of Norwegian society. Only a few decades ago Ð during my own childhood Ð an unwed mother was branded an outcast in this country. There are probably far more women from my generation who have been harmed by illegal abortions and the remedies of “wise women” than there are circumcised immigrant women in Norway.

The public moral debate of recent months also gives cause for concern. Certain actors and media have used traditions as a basis for demanding a new moral stratum separating public figures from the rest of the population, with different, more stringent requirements for King Solomon as opposed to Ralph the hat-maker. The right to be one’s self must apply to everyone, whether they live in a cabin or a palace. Just as the obligation not to harm or exploit others must apply across the board. We do not want an inflated, unmonitored elitist morality for an insulated upper class and a popular morality for the rest of us. A double standard is hardly twice as constructive.

She was Norwegian!

So let us strive for an open society, where we with energy and enthusiasm can both swear and pray, where we can march to the beat of our individual drummers, and where we can celebrate all of our differences, large and small alike. The world ahead of us is diverse indeed. A diverse Norway. I envy you Ð you have your futures before you as you now embark on your journey into this new universe. A few weeks ago I visited EPCOT Center at Disney World in Florida in the USA, which showcases the fabulous technology of the future.

Norway has its own pavilion in the complex, and it is a very popular place to visit. There was a long line of Norwegian-Americans and others who were waiting for a glimpse of what Norway has to offer. Several young Norwegians, blond and blue-eyed and clad in colourful folk costumes (bunads), were helping to direct the line. When I reached the entrance, I did a double-take when I saw the young woman at the counter; the face above the bunad had dark eyes, olive skin and raven-black hair. Clearly, her genes came from Eastern Asia. But she was Norwegian. It was an important message, without words or drama Ð an image of the future carrying far greater impact than DisneyÕs technological fantasies. Maybe some of the guests from Minnesota or Wisconsin thought there was something not quite right about that image. In that case, I invite them to visit me in Holmlia. We can take a few moments together to contemplate the stone that marks the site where Benjamin fell.