Hello and welcome back to Drilled. I'm Amy Westerwaldt. I am super excited to be bringing you a new mini series over the next few weeks. It's called The Black Thread. It's about Norway's complicated relationship with its identity as both a progressive leader and an oil stage. It's coming at you from the host of the communicating climate change podcast Dick and Bonvicstone, and was created in collaboration with the Norwegian nonprofit Klima Culter. This is The Black Thread Episode one.
I hope you enjoy it.
Norway a country whose name conjures images of fairytale fjords, mighty mountains and northern lights. A place known for its great adventurers. It's sagas about Thor and the Vikings and its cultural treasures like paintings by Monk, plays by Ibsen and music like this by Greek A beautiful soundtrack for a nation famous for its natural wonders, clean energy, electric vehicles,
and wealth. So much wealth invested in its citizens' well being, happiness and positive impact on the world today, Norway tops all kinds of global rankings for life quality, happiness, democracy, political participation, press, freedom, and more. In fact, It's hard to imagine a more perfect utopia, and yet Norway remains a country curiously at odds with its international reputation and
indeed with its own identity. Despite being legally committed to global climate goals, acknowledging the risk of climate change impact within its borders, and maintaining a self image as a responsible, nature loving nation and a champion of human rights, Norway
continues to drill for oil. In twenty twenty five alone, the Norwegian states earnings from its petroleum industry are expected to reach around sixty eight billion US dollars, most of which will be funneled to Norway's Sovereign Wealth Fund, known colloquially as the Oil Fund, an investment portfolio of around one point nine trillion dollars that promises to assure Norwegian
wealth long into the future. With nearly one hundred active oil fields in the North Sea, seventy eight additional discoveries earmarked for future activity, and about half of all the oil that's ever been found on the Norwegian continental shelf still estimated to be in the ground, the industry shows no signs of slowing down. None of this fits with the world's view of Norway, or how most Norwegians see themselves.
So what's really going on here, How do identity and action come to clash so significantly, and what forces keep this contradiction in place. From flagrant fossil fuel advertising and the revolving doors between the oil industry, politics and the boards of major institutions, to oil funded science exhibits for children and a widespread reluctance to fully face the consequences
of their actions. A black thread oil runs through Norwegian society and culture, stitching together a complex patchwork of myths, money, manipulation, and denial. As a result, wherever you look in Norway, oil is not just present, it's accepted as normal, reasonable, and even right. Hello and welcome to the Black Thread, a podcast series unraveling Norway's complex relationship with prosperity, identity,
and responsibility in a warming world. I'm Dickon, a brit based in Oslo, the Norwegian capital, As a climate communications expert and having published research about how narratives shape public opinion and support for climate policies in Norway, I've spent a lot of time pondering over the curious dynamics on
display in this place. I've come to call home. Over the next four episodes, I invite you to follow the black thread with me, as guided by a range of experts and industry insiders, I try to understand how these conditions are maintained and how Norwegians try to square this circle. We'll discover where the logic does and doesn't stand up to scrutiny, and even hear how Norwegians might move forward
towards a future beyond oil and gas. In this first episode, we'll meet the Norwegians and explore how social norms and cultural values shape their identity as a good, caring and nature loving people. We'll learn what happens when those values come into conflict with the reality of Norway's outsized impact on climate change, and discover how and why oil influences people's response to this dilemma. So let's begin to pull on the black thread.
You're not the only one wondering why Norway has had such a good reputation and it is strange, of course.
That's Anikhar And Sather, author, journalist and project manager at the Norwegian Climate Foundation NORWI is green think tank. You could say.
That we have been an ev front runner the sales of electric cars. Now we're up at ninety six percent. That's a good thing. And we have donated to forest preservation in the world. We are doing international climate and nature diplomacy, and we try to tell ourselves and the world that we are helping the climate. But we do profit on a product that is devastating for the climate. And the emissions from the wagon oil and gas adds up to about ten times as much as the national emissions.
So we do have a real problem.
A real problem. Indeed, scientists agree that the world is hurtling in the wrong direction when it comes to climate change, which is causing extreme weather events, rising sea levels, and the devastation of nature and biodiversity around the world. Across the globe is costing lives, impacting human health, driving mass migration, and even according to the International Monetary Fund, risking economies too.
The main driver of this global challenge is rising carbon dioxide or CO two in the atmosphere, primarily driven by the burning of fossil fuels like oil and gas. As a result, the United Nations has called for an end to fossil fuels and instead for a rapid transformation towards
renewable energy sources like solar and wind. Even so, the Norwegian Prime Minister Euana scar Sturdo says there is no contradiction between Norway's climate efforts and the country's continued expansion of its fossil fuel industry.
Norwegians like to think of themselves as the good guy, a force for good in the world, a small country doing great things. And some of it's true. We do spend a lot of money on international aid and develop and we try to participate on the international scene as a diplomat and so forth. We are a country pushing the environmental and AGAINDA internationally to some extent. So it has worked really well to think of oil and gas
as something positive. It's almost as we're doing it just to help the world become a better place.
According to Anakharan, Norway sees itself as a force for good in the world, a nation striving to make a positive difference. But how do you reconcile that with selling a product that's driving a global crisis. Back in nineteen eighty nine, Norway was among the first countries to set a climate goal, inspired by the concept of sustainable development, which was spearheaded by Norway's first female Prime Minister, grow Harlem Brintland. Norwegians took real pride in their ambitious commitment
to stabilize their emissions. However, according to Ana Kharan, once the reality of that commitment sank in, essentially meaning no further expansion of oil and gas production on the Norwegian continental shelf, both politicians and the public stepped back from it. Nevertheless, with a country electrified largely by hydropower and driven by a faith in technological solutions, Norway strove to cut emissions inside its borders, ultimately becoming a poster child for green
growth and sustainable development. Decades later, and despite the ongoing expansion of their fossil fuel industry, Norwegians continue to express their deep concern for climate and the environment. Recent polling from research and advocacy organization Oil Change International shows that they rank climate and environmental issues above the likes of education, immigration, and employment. Meanwhile, oil and energy concerns rank far lower, only eleven percent of people see them as top priorities.
Something here doesn't add up. If Norwegians feel so strongly about protecting the environment and they know oil is a major part of the problem, since they've worked hard to transform their own society away from using it. What's behind the disconnect? To explore this, let's turn to sociologists Carry Norgard, whose book Living in Denial sheds light on the cultural challenges Norwegian's face as they grapple with their role in the global climate crisis.
What we do and don't think about is very much shaped by our collective context, both our social interactions and the kinds of cultural stories that we tell ourselves about how the world works, about what's happening, and the kind of cultural tools that we use or have access to. If we don't want to think about something, what's socially acceptable and what's not?
So, what is it that's within the source code of Norwegian society and culture that allows this contradiction to continue. Let's dig into the academic literature for a bit of background on this place, its inhabitants, and particularly their relationship to nature. Norway is about the same size Poland or Vietnam three hundred and twenty four thousand square kilometers, but with a national population of just five and a half
million people, it's mostly wild. Only three percent of the land is suitable for farming, Around a quarter is forest and less than one percent is actually urbanized. The rest of the country, about seventy percent of it is made up of mountains, lakes, and bogs, and that vast, untamed landscape is a huge source of national pride. In fact, for many Norwegians, nature isn't just scenery, its identity, its heritage. Nature is often seen as a birthright, something every child
should grow up with and within. There's even a word for that free lift sleeve. The outdoor life hiking, skiing, climbing, canoeing, et cetera. Being in nature isn't just a pastime, it's part of being Norwegian. The late sociologist Thomas Holland Eriksson claimed that a Norwegian who doesn't get out into nature might be seen as a poor specimen by their fellow citizens. The special Norwegian relationship to the outdoors is summed up often in the classic saying the Finish ka doolivad barda
dor lei klad. There's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes. Basically, being prepared, understanding the elements and having the skills and the grit to endure them no matter what they might be is deeply ingrained in the Norwegian psyche and in the way outsiders think about Norwegians too. As Carrie Norgard explains, Norway's connection to the outdoors is rather unique.
This is a place where to me it does seem really clear that the natural world in the long time connection with the natural world is a distinct thing for Norwegians and certainly is something that's different. You know, sure, Finland and parts of Russia and Sweden have a lot of contact with the natural world, but if you look throughout Europe, not everybody has so much as people do
in Norway. I think it's immediately apparent, and it's immediately apparent when you look at things like you know of time that people still spend doing outdoor activities, going to huts, going to the ocean, going to the mountains, going skiing. This creates a kind of self sufficiency and people of values around self sufficiency. There is a sense of connection to the natural world that is affirmed through activities like walking in the mountains, sometimes by yourself for days at
a time. This sense of simplicity, this sense of innocence that can come from both culturally recreating it, but experiencing oneself in this way, it can be a strong jumping
off point. Those connections with the natural world is an opportunity to care about it, to know about it, to make observations, to have your sense of security and your sense of identity rooted in the winter, in the summer, in the activities that you do, even the bodily sensations of jumping into the ocean, or the bodily sensation of knowing how to dress in the winter for skiing and knowing how to move your body across snow in the winter,
there creates a very strong sense of identity and community.
With a long history of public access to land and natural resources, today Norwegian's right to roam what they call alamans Redden is protected by law. Everyone has the right to walk, swim, camp and forage pretty much anywhere, even on private property. There's a real sense that Norway and its resources are for everyone. That means if you're out in the woods and you find a patch of wild
berries or mushrooms, you can pick them. Of course, initially my British instinct was to grab every single chanterelle mushroom I saw, because why not? Them's the rules and find as keepers. But as my pockets filled up and I rummaged in my backpack to make space for more, my Norwegian wife stopped me. What are you doing? She said, we don't need more, just leave the rest for the
next person that comes along. It was a moment that stuck with me ever since, because it speaks to something deeper that there are unspoken rules here, a quiet ethic of fairness, of sharing, of prioritizing the collective over the individual. And that brings us to Yantlouvin, a silent set of rules that Norwegians live by. You can think of yant to Lauvn as a social code that works to keep people humble. Nobody should be so bold as to think that they're better than anyone else or deserving of more.
It's a culture where people don't tend to show off, don't speak up unless they have something to say, don't push themselves forward, and rarely make bold claims. That might sound cold from the outside, but in Norway's part of a strong, quiet social fabric, one where fitting in matters more than standing out. Here's carrying Norgard to tell us more.
Jante Lavin would be again sort of a cultural code around not sticking your neck out, around not thinking too much of yourself. It's a code that creates conformity and humility, and you know, it's harder to critique. If you make a social critique, it's seen as rude, it's seen as inappropriate, it's seen as thinking that you're smarter than other people.
And I'm sure that that is part of what can make breaking out of the box around conversations on climate change just seem more inappropriate in the best of circumstances, the very best of circumstances, talking about climate change is terrifying. It's very difficult, it's beyond difficult. It's very disturbing at every level. And then if you have it that it's socially inappropriate, that you're breaking social norms on top of it, it becomes a way of dismissing the point of view
right in order to have the conversation. There's just a much narrower set of things that are acceptable to talk about ways that is acceptable to approach your problem, and that would be a major limitation. It's not that Norwegians are not thoughtful, kind people, it's just that that's just not how things are done in most cases, so.
We can imagine how Janthelovin could contribute to people not sticking their necks out, not wanting to rock the boat. But not only a Norwegians absolutely kind and thoughtful, they're also highly cooperative. Norwegian identity is typically described as practical, calm, conflict shy, and emotionally reserved, but it's also built on a strong sense of collective responsibility and collective action for the greater good of the group or for society at large.
There's even a word for that too, dougnad.
So dugnad just to define it is this idea of collective purpose, of that you contribute to, volunteer actions that we have, that people have to take care of each other in some way. It's a way of creating a
sense of responsibility to participate in a project. I mean, the first way that I was introduced to it was in the community where I was staying when I did the work on living in Denial, and there was a barn that needed to be taken down, and so all the neighboring farmers brought their tractors and other equipment over and by the end of the day the barn was on the ground, and then everybody was eating food and drinking and celebrating together and having a wonderful community experience.
It's an old tradition shaped by the landscape itself. In a country of scattered settlements and challenging terrain, communities had to rely on each other. You couldn't go it alone. So dugnot isn't just about getting things done. It's about being part of something, doing your bit, whether it's cleaning local beaches, tidying up shared apartment gardens, or going into lockdown during the pandemic. Nobody is above it. In this way, dougnot is also anti class, which really speaks to the
sense among Norwegians of egalitarianism and equality. Everyone benefits from the collective commitment, but like so much in Norway, it's rarely spoken about. But it's there, part of the quiet social code, alongside Alamansreddin, alongside Yanthelovnri but deeply understood. So that was your crash course into some of the fundamentals of Norwegian society and culture. But carries work in Norway
specifically sought to uncover the mechanics of climate denial. So how is it that deeply rooted rules, norms and ways of being like those we've just discussed, can contribute to what seems like such an obvious paradox.
When you study sometimes something that says threat to society, it becomes a moment where you can see how things work. And so taking climate change as an example of how the social organization of denial operates, we can see in a Norwegian context, there's values of egalitarianism, there's values of human rights, there's values of connection to nature. There's a strong sense of moral code, there's a sense of collective purpose. And those are wonderful things, absolutely wonderful qualities that I
wish more countries had. But I think one thing that's important to realize is as much as these are potentially very positive qualities, really critically essential qualities when it comes to solving a large global environmental human rights problem like climate change, that if we think about psychological principles like cognitive dissonance, for example, we can also see where they can be like an achilles heel.
Cognitive dissonance is the feeling of being stuck between what you believe and how you feel, often in relation to some actions that you've taken. It's kind of a mental tension that makes it hard to fully face a problem or take strong action to fix it. Sometimes, learning new information, for example, that the emissions associated with your national oil industry are driving climate change, can lead to the discomfort
of cognitive dissonance. People sometimes deal with this by finding ways to justify their behaviors or finding ways to discredit or ignore that new information. This may explain the great confidence many Norwegians have in a slew of as of yet unproven technological solutions to the challenge of rising emissions, and the fact that in recent years, at the same time as ranking environmental issues highly in its list of priorities, Norway has also ranked as having some of the highest
climate denial rates in the world. Let's hear from Carrie Norgard about how their national virtues, values and norms come back to bite Norwegians.
If you take at the individual level, how those are in conflict with emotions that people share come up for them talking about climate change, such as guilt, such as fear about the future, such as a sense of helplessness.
You have these three emotions that really come into conflict for people with these ideas of how they see themselves as morally good as strong environmentalists, so circling back to the idea of Yontloven and that it's socially unacceptable to break out of a mold that becomes a cultural tool that you can wield to attack someone by their personality rather than having to deal with the uncomfortable thing that's
being proposed. Sociology talks about three levels of social organization, and the processes of denial cuts across these three levels, which are the individual level where we have psychological constructs, the cultural level, where we have social interactions and cultural norms and cultural tools that we use to recreate culture, and then the larger macro level, which is kind of the political economy and where you have things like in
Norway that it's a capitalist society that's organized around fossil fuel production, and how those levels of social organization shape what people do and don't think about, and what is potentially problematic to think or not think about.
So, according to Carrie Norwegians are proud of being kind and caring about each other, about nature, and about being a force for the greater good, but their role as an oil nation driving global climate change can bring up feelings of guilt, helplessness, or fear it clashes with how they see themselves as good and responsible people, leading them to potentially reject the reality due to cognitive dissonance, or otherwise discredit those who voice that there might be a
problem as being culturally deviant and thinking they're smarter than the rest. As we've learned, that's a big no no in Norway. Something else that's worth adding is that Norway's small communities, even within its major cities, create overlapping social networks where almost everyone is connected in some way. As a result, you might hesitate to criticize the service at a restaurant because the waiter is friends with someone in your extended family, or avoid commenting on a new local
development because your neighbour is involved. In casual conversation, people often leave out identifying details like company names or surnames because the people on the adjacent table, or next in line, or sitting nearby on the bus might share social connections in some way. The result is a pervasive self censorship
that I simply haven't encountered anywhere else. While this can make everyday interactions smoother, it also means important but difficult conversations, for example, dissatisfaction with a colleague's conduct or Indeed, critiques of the oil industry often never happen, but the story doesn't end there. These inner conflicts are made even more complex by the fact that oil isn't just an abstract problem. It's also a huge part of everyday life. Let's take
a step back and hear how it all began. In nineteen sixty nine, oil sprung into the picture on the website of Equinor, Norway's national oil company. It reads the same year that humans landed on the Moon, taking their first steps out into the stars. What was then the world's largest offshore oil field was discovered in Norway's subsurface
universe on the continental shelf. The discovery of Ecofisk, that oil field southwest of the city of Stavanga on Norway's west coast, offered vast opportunities for Little Norway to expand on our understanding of those early days. Here's Yanik Lindbag, executive vice president for Communications at Equinor.
Oil was discovered late sixties, and then the Parliament set the principles for the development of natural resources that was found. These principles have served Norway really well. The political choices that were made was able to make sure that the resources was developed in a way that benefited the whole of society, and that was the political aim at the time. And as part of that, it was also a choice to establish a national oil company which was Statoil at
the time, which is now Equinora. Obviously, for as long as it was one hundred percent state on it was obviously every Norwegians property. Now the Norwegians share that interest with some other shareholders, but still it's received to be company of the people, owned by the people, and supposed to act in favor of public ambitions and goals.
You can really hear how oil fits into the Norwegian sense of the nation's resources being for everyone's benefit. Berries, mushrooms, fossil fuels, same same. But of course oil didn't just mean resources, it also meant jobs. According to Norse Petroleum, almost seven percent of the Norwegian workforce was directly or indirectly employed in the petroleum industry in twenty twenty three.
What kind of impact might that have on the way that Norwegians think and talk about oil, Silia ask Lundberg, heads up North Sea Activities at research and advocacy organization oil Change International, who work to expose the true costs of fossil fuels and facilitate a just transition to clean energy. Cilia shares some insight on the influence of oil on Norway's workforce and society.
Norways such a small country, so it's been like fifty six years since found the first oil and during that time, since we are such a small country, almost everyone in Norway knows someone who works within the oil industry, who works offshore, or who benefits from the oil and gas industry in some way. And then in addition the fact that our oil and gas industry is happening offshore, that also is kind of like out of sight, out of mind. But what we do see is the money flowing in.
We see how people that we know earn a lot of money, how they work very good hours. The social license of the oil and gas industry in Norway is super high. I mean it has been even higher than what it is today. Close to twenty years ago you
had some pulling off for Norway. One of their questions were like, are you proud to be Norwegian because of equinor or because of Stottle as it was called them eighty percent or something of who they asked was like, yes, super proud, and that was because we all knew someone who worked there, and I mean they did a brilliant job and they were good and we all saw the money. So I think it's so into like the Norwegian soul almost for the past fifty years.
But it wasn't just the oil workers and their families who were enjoying these boom times, as Anakhar and Sava explains, for.
The politicians, it was like living a dream when you could open all these new hospitals and kindergartens and so forth. It was hard to say no to all this money coming in. So then I guess this pride was growing and people were noticing to a greater extent, and that was sort of the Christmas present of all times.
So a big social norm developed around working in oil too, and that reaches through to the present day. In fact, Equinor, the Norwegian National Oil Company, was awarded most attractive employer in Norway last year, and not for the first time.
To many out ciders, particularly those deeply concerned about the worsening trajectory of climate change, this may sound bizarre even obscene, But it's really just the tip of the iceberg of how visible and normalized fossil fuel employment, advertising and activities are in Norway. Just this summer, for example, I came across a huge set of info boards in the middle of a small town in the north of the country.
These boards were promoting another major oil company, KERBP. The boards explained that it was a great place to work, that it had ambitious plans to employ more women, and that it was excited about a project where fossil fuel production begins in twenty twenty seven and was stretched to quote twenty forty and beyond. They also stated how proud they were of the work that they were doing. This
is in public, out loud and proud. It sort of makes sense then that the very idea of shutting off the pumps, as advocated for by scientists, the un vulnerable nations bearing the brunt of climate change and so many others, remains unthinkable to many Norwegians who still see oil as a lifeline, and not just for the country itself but for the world. Here's Celia ask Lundberg from Oil Change International again to explain it's in road that.
If you take the life live from an average man, then you take his happiness as well. And I think that is very true about the Norwegian relationship to the oil and gas industry. One of our former pms Gruhale and Brintlam, which has an insane amount of status symbol in Norway, she was dubbed a nation's mother. She said, it's typical Norwegian to be good, and I think those two kind of go very well together, because we've been told over and over and over.
Again that we're good.
We only have good intentions, we only do the right thing, we have beautiful nature, we're so nice, we spend a lot of money on aid.
We're good.
And our oil and gas industry, well, that's wonderful. It's colleen, it's brilliant. We have had very good regulations of the winning gas industry, so that when regulating the industry, politicians have done a lot of good choices. We have had a lot of tougher environmental demands than in any other country. I mean, that is why the emission per produced barrel is so much lower in Norway. But that still does make it bright.
Norway's discovery of oil began a new chapter in the nation's story for many, oil became more than just a resource. It became a source of pride and identity through work, through community, through resources that would benefit everyone. It was a true Norwegian success story. Plus, oil workers were seen as heroes, the backbone of local economies, and nearly everyone knew someone involved in the industry. This close connection made oil feel not only normal, but honorable in daily life.
Yet today that pride exists intention with a growing global movement that increasingly vilifies fossil fuels and those who support them. International bodies like the United Nations have warned that urgent action is needed to phase out fossil fuels to avoid catastrophic climate impacts. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the IPCC, has repeatedly emphasized the need to reduce oil and gas extraction rapidly. Major scientific organizations worldwide echo these calls, underscoring
the link between fossil fuels and global warming. Climate activists and youth movements like Fridays for Future and Extinction Rebellion stage protests targeting oil companies and government policies that enable fossil fuel expansion, and religious leaders including the late Pope Francis, have issued moral appeals to protect the planet and hold polluters accountable. International media outlets increasingly report on the climate crisis,
often highlighting fossil fuels as the primary culprit. Even some major financial institutions and pension funds are dive vesting from oil and gas companies under pressure from shareholders and public opinion. All these voices contribute to a growing narrative that frames fossil fuel extraction and consumption as not only environmentally destructive, but also ethically unacceptable. Silly paints a picture of the response that's been seen to these kinds of critique in the past.
A couple of years back, you had this campaign where I think a lot of the oil and gas workers were like, well, we're only doing our job here and we're trying to do whatever we're told, and was feeling like they were being shamed for working within the oil and gas industry, even though no one tried to actually shame the workers, but tried to take the policies and how it's being regulated. But then you ended up with this whole campaign that was on social media that was
called Proud to be an oil Worker. So a lot of people changed their profile picks to like proud oil worker, and that wouldn't happen in a lot of other countries. They wouldn't say that they are proud to work there.
Cilia's words show just how deeply pride in the oil industry runs among many Norwegians. But to fully understand how Norway's oil discovery fits into its national psyche, we need to look even further back. Norway's cultural routes run deep, intertwined with folk tales collected and published during the country's nation building era in the eighteen hundreds. At that time, Norway had only recently gained independence after centuries under Danish
and Swedish rule. A huge effort was underway to define what it meant to be Norwegian, centered on the idea of modern Norway as a resurrection of the ancient Norse kingdom. Poets, playwrights, artists, and composers amplified this vision, working to establish the uniqueness of Norwegian culture. New traditional national costumes, the Bounud, were devised.
Inspired by Norway's rural routs. The Norwegian Trekking Association was founded, promoting a form of nature nationalism that wove Norwegian identity deeply into the country's landscapes and as many Norwegians might be surprised to learn. Even the naming of the central mountain region Jortenheimen, after the home of the giants in Norse mythology, occurred during this formative period less than two
hundred years ago. As Anakhar and Satha from the Norwegian Climate Foundation points out, some of the fairy tales and folk songs collected and published to forge a shared cultural narrative, like those of espen Uskalad, the clever underdog who always overcomes great odds, resonates strongly with how a lot of Norwegians interpret their modern relationship with oil.
Espen Usclad is a very known figure in Norwegian folk tales, and I think a lot of people feel like him, or they feel like Norway is like espen Askelad. He was a poor kid, but he was observant and kind
and innovative kid. And one of the folk tales about him is he finding all these things that is rubbish for others but turns out to be really useful for him, and he keeps saying, look what I found, Look what I found, or I found I found directly translated and one of the books on Norwich and oil history is called I Found, I Found, So it's really intertwined with our folk tale history as well, and us being this little kid that was innovative and deserved to become rich in some way.
And this folding in of Norwegian culture and oil continues in the naming of platforms and oil fields, as Anacarn explains.
When Urabu, a former oil and gas minister that is now he established his own oil and gas company. Later he started a new naming policy for the Norwegian continental shelf where you used names of Norwegian heroes on platforms like Edvard Grigg the cos He's now a platform, and the same goes for the painter and feminist Austa Hunstan and famous historical politicians like Johann Swaddri Costbag. They're all oil and gassy installations or platforms or fields.
Now.
I don't know if they would have liked it, but that's also a part of the storytelling.
So Norway's traditions and stories are woven into its fossil fuel infrastructure, much in the same way that the legends of old were assimilated during the nation building period of the eighteen hundreds. This serves to further embed oil as an inseparable part of the national identity and heritage, perpetuating a close relationship between people, the industry and its products.
This deep influence helps explain not only the widespread pride and support Norwegians have for the industry, but also the strong political backing it enjoys. The flow of jobs, wealth and cultural capital creates powerful incentives to maintain the state. Let's hear from Board Lan, who coordinates the Oil and Society Research Network at the University of Oslo, exploring the ways that oil and gas shape Norwegian society.
There's a lot of quite striking work that shows how oil and gas is culturally ingrained in different ways in
people's kind of everyday lives. And there are very strong regional connections to oil and gas right People in the Stavanged area, for example, have a strong kind of regional identity tied to oil, to the offshore working life, and how that shows in so many different ways, and of course we see it also in the rest of the country in how important, for example, Equinora as a company is as a sponsor in all sorts of cultural events, sports events, all of these things, and we kind of
take this for granted, is an important piece in the puzzle what is reproducing this strong role of oil and gas in Norway?
So, according to Board equinor formally stat Oil, the state owned oil giant, has been busy in this effort since the early days of nowise fossil fuel era, funding education programs, sponsoring sports and cultural events, youth initiatives, and more, creating
an almost everywhere presence in public life. Sillier from Oil Change International expands on these insights, describing the commonly held perception that without oil, none of these public goods nor Norway's renowned welfare system would be possible, and that the dominant narrative about Norway and the role oil plays in its wealth and its international engagements is one that is strategically maintained.
We've been told over and over again that without the oil and gas industry we'd be poor. We've been told over and over again that the oil and gas industry is what built our welfare system, and I think that is one of the biggest lies that we've been told. Because our welfare system wasn't built off of oil and gas. Our welfare system was in place before we found oil. We can continue to live very good lives based off of that, even after the war, oil and gas is gone,
but no one tells you that. Most Norwegians, I think, think that the day we stop producing oil and gas, that day we start to become poor. If you compare Norway to a lot of other oil nations, we have done some wise choices in terms of not spending all of the money, not just allowing the international oil companies to come in and do whatever they wanted and then leave.
And I think based off of that, we've just been building this whole narrative on how Norway is like the best of the best that has then kind of been core to how the oil industry in Norway usually gets what it wants. But also because of the whole history with Stout Oil or Equinores it's called now, and the fact that it was very hard I think, in the past to separate Stout Oil and Norway, like to separate the two of them, because they were so entwined in
the past. When people thought about stott Oil, they thought about Norway and then they thought this was good, like this is who we are. So then for the oil and gas industry to ask for something, the narrative that was built was that the oil industry wanted what was best for Norway, and that whatever was best for Norway that was also good for the oil and gas industry,
so that the stories just were so entwined. This is just in recent years we've started to be able to like unwine that it definitely comes from the oil and gas industry. They are the ones that are still shaping that.
As we've seen, Norway's culture, values, and social norms shape not only how Norwegians see themselves, what they think about and don't think about, and what they consider appropriate, but also how they understand and respond to climate change. The pride and normalcy surrounding the oil industry, a story told and lived by so many, creates a powerful lens through which people view their place in the world and the sense they have of Norway's role in this major international challenge.
Yet behind this story, our experts claim, lies a complex web of influences where oil industry interests work with purpose to assert their importance and value to everyday experiences and to noise continued prosperity. In the next episode, we'll dig deeper into this, exploring so called Petra Ganda, the tactics that commentators claim the oil industry uses to shape public opinion and cultural stories to protect its own interests and
maintain business as usual. We'll uncover the scope and scale of these activities, how they work, how ingrained they've become, and find out what they mean for NOI's ability to adapt for the future. All that are more in the next episode of The Black Thread. Thanks for listening, and catch you next time. The Black Thread is a collaboration
between Communicating Climate Change and klimacultur. It was written and narrated by Dick and Bonvigstone, produced and edited by lever Solid Shulearud, and the executive producer was vig Des Bondvik. Stone artwork is by Anya Jimushkevich. For more information, see the show notes.