Syttende Mai – A lasting, durable symbol
Photo: Dagfinn Pettersen © Spareskillingsbanken
Crowds fill Markens in Kristiansand on Syttende Mai 1945, celebrating Constitution Day for the first time after five years of occupation, when public observances and the Norwegian flag were banned. The day became a powerful symbol of freedom, unity, and national identity.
In the lead-up to Syttende Mai, debates often re-emerge over the most powerful symbols of Norway’s Constitution Day celebration: the Norwegian flag and the children’s parade. In recent years, social media has provided a particularly heated and wide-ranging forum for discussions about the use of foreign flags in the parade. These arguments add yet another chapter to the history of Syttende Mai as a day when competing interpretations of national values are set against one another.
Many argue that the question of whether foreign flags should be allowed in the children’s parade is trivial or uninteresting. It is neither. On the contrary, the debate touches the very core of how Norwegians relate to national values and makes Syttende Mai more than a pleasant holiday for polished families, surrounded by balloons and flags and pleasantly full of ice cream and hot dogs. A brief journey through over 200 years of Constitution Day history shows that the day has long been used for political and ideological expression. That is hardly surprising, considering that the object of celebration — the Constitution itself — defines the principles and values by which Norway is governed and is, in that sense, a political document. Popular sovereignty, separation of powers, liberty, rule of law, and tolerance are among its foundational ideals.
A troublesome union partner
Even the first Syttende Mai observance, held at the civic club Harmonien in Trondheim, along with the first public mass celebrations of the 1820s and 1830s, was marked by politics and ideological positioning. Liberal and democratic forces defended the Constitution against King Charles John’s attempts to weaken it in favor of stronger royal authority. In 1829, military force was even used against crowds in what later became known as the “Battle of the Square” in Christiania, now Oslo.
Syttende Mai became an especially clear arena for political confrontation in the 1880s and 1890s, when struggles over parliamentarism, party formation, voting rights and the union with Sweden dominated public life. Citizens gathered under competing banners and flags, with or without the union mark, marching in separate processions. All believed they alone represented the true values of the Constitution and the proper spirit of Syttende Mai. At one point, three separate parades moved through the capital’s streets: the citizens’ parade, the workers’ parade, and the Liberal Party parade.
With its potent blend of national and democratic arguments, the Liberal procession ultimately prevailed, both in practical politics and symbolically on Syttende Mai. From 1901 onward, it was renamed the “common parade,” uniting supporters under the “pure” Norwegian flag without the union mark in the years leading up to the dissolution of the union in 1905.
Apparent harmony
Even after 1905, when the great national question had been politically resolved and there appeared to be agreement on national values, disagreements remained over what Syttende Mai should mean. In the capital, at least three camps could be identified: the conservative middle-class groups representing the official celebration, rural nationalists tied to the language and cultural movement known as norskdomsrørsla, and a growing socialist movement.
Under the slogan “Out of the unions,” the youth organization Noregs Ungdomslag argued that Norway was still not truly free. Political freedom had been achieved with independence from Sweden, but the country remained in a linguistic union with Denmark. Supporters of Riksmål, a written language form rooted in Danish influence, were denounced as “home Danes,” who in principle should not be allowed to celebrate Constitution Day.
The labor movement also held its own Syttende Mai gatherings in Kristiania beginning in 1914, using its own symbol, the red rose, and proclaiming itself the rightful bearer of the Constitution’s and the nation’s values. It was the working class’ turn to be included in — and to claim — the nation.
Tricolor, red, or every color?
Only during the conflict-ridden interwar years did direct clashes over Syttende Mai symbols become unmistakable in Kristiania. In 1924, the labor movement organized its own children’s parade with red flags in competition with the official parade organized by the Syttende Mai committee.
The children’s parade had been an annual feature since 1870 and had even served as a unifying element through the years of the union struggle. A rival parade bearing rival symbols therefore marked a deep division in Norwegian society.
By the second half of the 1930s, after political compromise and the formation of a Labor government, the nation once again rallied around common symbols on Syttende Mai. The Labor Party joined conservative groups in a shared national celebration, with leading party figures serving as keynote speakers.
During the Nazi occupation of Norway, Syttende Mai celebrations and Norwegian flags were banned. That prohibition gave new meaning to both the day and its symbols in postwar Norway and generated enormous public support for the celebration in the years immediately after World War II.
Even after the war, Syttende Mai periodically became an arena for political battles, including visible opposition to EEC and later EC membership in the 1970s. Since the 1980s, however, conflicts have more often centered on ethnic minorities and people with immigrant backgrounds — participation in parades, the use of national costumes and flags.
Key national symbols
Two symbols have been central to Norway’s Constitution Day celebration: the Norwegian flag and the children’s parade. What do these symbols reveal about Norwegian national identity, and why does the combination of the two provoke such strong feelings that thousands of people voice their opinions online whenever changes are proposed?
The Norwegian flag can be defined as a classic national key symbol, encapsulating what is distinctly Norwegian in contrast to other nations. The children’s parade, by contrast, is unique to Norway’s national day celebration. It may, in fact, offer the clearest answer to what that distinctiveness means.
In appearance, the children’s parade represents innocence, peace, the future, and something harmless, modest, and restrained. Combined with colorful festive clothing and the absence of military uniforms or weapons, the parade can also be associated with diversity, openness, and tolerance.
A durable symbol?
Seen in that light, a children’s parade featuring flags from different nations can be interpreted as a visual update of the parade’s symbolism. The various flags portray a multicultural nation — one that has embraced and contains multiple identities walking literally hand in hand.
The question remains whether such explicit visualization is necessary. Does not the Norwegian flag itself represent diversity and everyone marching in the parade?
The intense online debates offer a mixed answer. For some — and, judging by comment sections, for many — the children’s parade and the Norwegian flag can symbolize exclusionary ethnic thinking. Will the Norwegian flag, that presumptively durable symbol, prove insufficient if one wishes to present a nation tolerant of complementary identities — identities that do not exclude one another, that show differing ethnic origins do not prevent someone from being Norwegian?
Syttende Mai is Norway’s largest showcase for national values. But the symbols displayed on that day are not empty. They are subject to differing interpretations that change over time and vary among groups with differing political views and sociocultural backgrounds. They inspire engagement, resist easy control, and history shows they always have.
The first version of this article was published in the online edition of Fædrelandsvennen on May 16, 2013. Translated by Line Klevmo Beumer.
This article originally appeared in the May 2026 issue of The Norwegian American.
