Denmark

The sky over the island of Møn, which is at the bottom right of Denmark, was cobalt and the whitewashed walls of the Elmelunde church dazzled in the bright sunshine and hurt our eyes. Our arrival had been preceded by an argument about visiting the church at all, some of the party being of the opinion that they had seen enough medieval churches already during the four-week trek across northern Europe. Nevertheless, culture won the day and in we filed to glory in the frescoes of the Elmelunde Master, who some time during the 15th century devoted himself to the decoration of this church. The frescoes are spare and sinuous, bleached in hue and basic in execution.

I was invited to Lars Vilks* Committee in Copenhagen to present Passion for Freedom London Art Festival. The committee is organised annually, on the anniversary of Salman Rushdie's fatwa. The meeting started with a short introduction from one of the organizers followed by François Zimeray, the French ambassador, commemorating Charlie Hebdo and discussing the challenges that we face when it comes to the threats to freedom of speech and democracy in our countries. After a short introduction, Inna Shevchenko opened the panel and started to talk about Femen and her work. She also discussed her close friendship with Charb, the editor of Charlie Hebdo, and how they both stood strong exercising their right to freedom of expression.

For years the Nordic model has stood out as a beacon of universal welfare provision. But if you want evidence of how the global financial crisis has ripped up the political rulebook then look no further than Denmark, the country with the highest tax burden in the world and one that’s long prided itself on a highly developed system of welfare for all. Its current Social Democrat-led Government has cut welfare payments, raised the retirement age and started to means test college and university students for study grants. And, as of this year, they’ve cut access to child support for richer households. According to Danish Finance Minister Bjarne Corydon, this reflects ‘a continuing debate of priorities’. And it’s not just taking place in Denmark.

Firoozeh Bazrafkan is frightened of nothing. Five foot tall, 31 years old, and so thin you think a puff of wind could blow her away, she still has the courage to be a truly radical artist and challenge those who might hurt her. She fights for women’s rights and intellectual freedom, and her background means her fight has to be directed against radical Islam. As a Danish citizen, she saw journalists go into hiding and mobs attack her country’s embassies just because Jyllands-Posten published cartoons of Muhammad that were so tame you could hardly call them ‘satirical’. Bazrafkan is also the daughter of an Iranian family, and the Islamic Republic’s subjugation of women revolts her.

A scientific study has revealed that the faces of Lego characters are no longer so mindlessly happy as they once were. This is an important thing to know. ‘Put the cancer cure stuff on hold for a while, will you - I’m deeply interested in the facial expressions of plastic toys.’ Anyway, once upon a time Lego men and women had the sort of smug, deluded, grins that one immediately associates with the gullible Danes who manufacture them. Denmark regularly tops the table of the countries with the most stupidly self-satisfied citizenry, a consequence of them stuffing themselves with pastries and bien pensant opinions day in and out.

Borgen - the title refers to the Danish equivalent of Holyrood or Westminster - has been terrifically popular amongst those people interested in sub-titled political dramas from Denmark. I fancy that viewers in England have simply enjoyed the programme for what it is: a well-made but impossibly smug piece of "progressive" political propaganda. In Scotland, however, it has been seen as something different: a glimpse of the future. Or, at any rate, one future. In one sense this is reasonable. Even if it is only a TV show, one can see why Scots - and nationalists especially - should be thrilled by a drama showing how the ineffably right-on leader of a small northern European nation can make a mark upon the world. No wonder Nicola Sturgeon is on record expressing her admiration for Borgen.