Free How to Be Danish: A Journey to the Cultural Heart of Denmark by Patrick Kingsley

£11 an hour – the highest in the world – which in turn means that the gap between rich and poor, though larger than it was 20 years ago, is still the world’s smallest. In fact, the state looks after its citizens so well that many people (usually right-wing politicians) claim that it is nearly impossible to find poverty in Denmark – much to the consternation of those on the left, including one MP in particular: Özlem Cekic. Who’s right is still a moot point in the Danish media, largely thanks to Cekic’s own cack-handed research. When challenged by her critics to find one Danish resident who was genuinely in poverty, Cekic presented a 36-year-old woman called Carina. Now sarcastically known in Danish tabloids as “Fattig Carina”, or Poor Carina, she turned out to be receiving monthly benefits worth over £1600, which, once her billswere paid, left her with a disposable income of around £600.
    Needless to say, this level of state subsidy can only really be supported by an immensely high tax bill. Danes pay high levels of income, council, church and healthcare tax – and can end up owing between 50 and 60 per cent of their income. There are also high levies on commodities like cars (180%), which is one reason you see few four-by-fours on the streets, while VAT is at 25%, and is applied to payments for food – which is why eating out is a rare luxury for most Danes. High taxes are still seen as a reasonably fair trade-off for the services received in return (fittingly, the Danish word for tax – “ skat ” – is also a term of affection) but the amount of tax people should pay, and the exact size of the state itself, are subjects of increasing debate. Nevertheless, almost all political parties – right and left – are supportive of at least the premise of a large, social democratic state, not least because the public views it with such sentiment and would not vote in large numbers for a party that worked against it.
    When he was elected prime minister in 2001, Anders Fogh Rasmussen – the then leader of Venstre, the main centre-right party in Denmark – made his first speech as PM a rallying call for the welfare state. Earlier in his career, he had written a book trumpeting the virtues of neoliberalism and a shrunken government. But by 2001, he was elected with a manifesto that merely called for an end to tax increases, rather than tax cuts, and barely suggested trimming thestate itself. “The difference between Venstre and the Social Democrats [Denmark’s two main parties] has always been in foreign policy – how close should we be with NATO and the United States? – and in integration and immigration,” explains Mads Brandstrup, a political correspondent for Politiken , Denmark’s leading centre-left broadsheet. “It’s been on other issues than the economy.”
    This is partly because the spectrum of Danish politics is, in economic terms at least, further to the left than it is in Britain. The far-right Danish People’s Party – which ranks somewhere between Britain’s UKIP and the BNP – may be Denmark’s third-largest party, but only one party – the small and newly established Liberal Alliance – actively opposes the welfare state. And while Britain’s Labour Party is as left-wing as mainstream parties get in the Commons, the Danish Folketinget houses two fairly large groups that lie to the left of the Social Democrats, Denmark’s main left-wing party. First, there’s the Socialist People’s Party and then – even further to the left – Enhedslisten, a ragtag collection of communist, anarchist and green groups.
    The media takes them seriously, too. Enhedslisten’s de facto leader, Johanne Schmidt-Nielsen, regularly makes the headlines – and even Danish Rail once made her their in-train magazine’s cover star. It was the Danish equivalent of plastering Salma Yaqoob – leader of Respect, Britain’s only sizeable hard-left party – all over First Capital Connect. To