NOTnever called a Swede as the sun sets – absurdly early – on Christmas Eve. Because at 3 p.m., the country collectively stops to watch a bit of television history. Since 1959, the public broadcaster has broadcast much the same hour-long show of Donald Duck and other vintage Disney cartoons to the nation’s children and their nostalgic parents. Although he is over sixty years old, Kalle Anka, as it is called, is one of the most watched shows of the year. Such is the centrality of the Christmas celebration that Swedes living abroad were once known to smuggle out versions of it. VHS bands; now, YouTube offers the ancient charlatan on demand. Sitting down to watch old American cartoons has become as archetypal a part of Swedish national culture as extended paternity leave and heated arguing couples. IKEA.
New dads taking time off and marital conflict has long become a pan-European, if not global, phenomenon. On the other hand, the Christmas traditions dear to the Swedes have remained a resolutely national affair, shared only with a few Nordic neighbors. A political scientist who has not yet signed up for the holidays would find food for thought here. Even though Europe has come together in many ways – a common currency across much of the continent, a single set of currencies EU parliamentary elections every five years, a shared horror at the prospect of a second dose of Trumpism – its most intimate moments rarely transcend national borders. Most of the year, Europe resembles a continent coalescing into a union, one set of chemical regulations at a time. But when it comes time to relax during the holiday season, Greeks, Italians and Lithuanians retreat into their national cocoons.
Beyond a decorated tree, twinkling lights and children tearing up presents, there is nothing else to Christmas. For the God-fearing Poles and Portuguese, the birth of Jesus is at the heart of the whole matter; this is not the case for secular Danes and Czechs. (In any case, so-called Christian celebrations borrow heavily from pre-existing pagan rituals to mark the winter solstice.) Even the date on which Christmas is celebrated varies. Eastern Orthodox Christians often mark this day according to the Julian calendar, January 7. For those of the Gregorian faith, the difference is between celebrating the evening of the 24th, as many northern Europeans do, or celebrating the 25th, more typical in the south of the continent. The decision may be tinged with geopolitics. Ukraine was once a January 7 country, alongside Russia. This year the law changed it to December 25, in accordance with the EU country he hopes to join.
To focus on Christmas Day itself is to ignore the vital period and its consequences. December 5 is a meaningless date for Portuguese or Irish children. But for the Dutch (and the Belgians, Luxembourgers and others a day later), it marks the very important visit of St. Nicholas and a first trove of gifts for children thoughtful enough to leave a carrot in their shoes for his horse can nibble on it. Scandinavians celebrate the feast of Santa Lucia a week later, with processions of young singers, one of whom wears a precarious crown of lit candles. The French have a last dose of gluttony on January 6, when the three wise men arrive in Bethlehem, with a Galette des rois, a cake with an almond flavor and the hidden charm of porcelain. On the same date, a witch known as La Befana, a mostly unknown sidekick of the trio, delivers yet more treats to children in Italy. His broomstick flying powers apparently don’t extend as far as neighboring Austria or Slovenia.
Europeans eager to merge their continent into an ever closer union are likely to conclude that their neighbors are a bit odd. In Spain, Catalans feed a hollowed-out log for two weeks before tricking it into pooping small presents on Christmas Eve. Poles and some other central Europeans prepare a table with a free frame, to symbolize those who have not been able to return home or who might drop by unexpectedly. The British attend pantomimes, theatrical performances during which Z-A-list celebrities (“Oh yes, they are!”) engage in cross-dressing and try to annoy the public (“Oh yes, they do!”). The Swedes burn an oversized straw goat. Angela Merkel, then Germany’s environment minister, once used Christmas to show off her sense of thrift at home by being photographed ironing sheets of wrapping paper that would soon be reused. His German compatriots keep vigil on New Year’s Eve Dinner for onea black and white piece of British slapstick comedy that few Brits have ever heard of.
Nothing better than being at home
Is this cacophony of celebrations important? THE EUthe motto of is “united in diversity”; the idea is to allow a multitude of national customs to coexist peacefully. Even the most keen Eurocrat on standardization would hesitate to design a single menu or television program. What little harmonization there is at Christmas comes from two sources that Europeans generally hate. One of them is Germany, which gifted Advent calendars, decorated trees, and picturesque Christmas markets to its neighbors (before repeatedly invading them). The other is America. Even though Swedes watch Disney cartoons, much of the rest of the continent sits in front Alone at home.
Elie Barnavi, an Israeli historian, once deplored what he called the “frozen Europe” method. EU integration: a continent whose leaders have focused on the convergence of all that is economic and rational, but have given little thought to the cultural and sincere. This approach means that countries EU are good at trading gadgets or building highways across borders, but their citizens still view the rest of Europe as a place that’s not really their own. Can a continent whose inhabitants share no affinity for celebrating their most important holiday ever be considered a true union? Charles de Gaulle joked that it was impossible to govern a country with 246 kinds of cheese. Building a continent with so many Christmas traditions will be even more difficult. Something to think about while the Poles appreciate their carp, the French their foie grasthe Swedes their eels and the Greeks stuffed cabbage leaves. ■
Read more from Charlemagne, our columnist on European politics:
Stolpersteine mourns the victims of the Nazis, one at a time (December 14)
In Europe, green policies reign while green politicians struggle (December 7)
How a dark mood gripped Europe (November 30)
Also read: How the Charlemagne Column got its name