 |
| One man, one suit: Jacob
Haugaard |
| Courtesy Jacob Haugaard |
A highly placed official recently
said, “We have very few eccentrics in Denmark.”
The short and happy career of Jacob Haugaard puts
this claim to the test.
Jesse Ventura was kind of a joke,
but he was trying to be serious, and he actually
wasn’t all that funny. Jacob Haugaard knew
he was a joke, and that was the whole point. A stand-up
comic and harmless whacko, he got the idea to run
for parliament in 1979.
“I was just the drunken freak
in my hometown, and all the fellow students developed
the Union of Conscious Working Shy Elements. I was
a rock and roll singer, a school dropout.”
They first tried in 1979, and ran in every election
until 1994. “It’s important to remember
that there was no content.”
He campaigned, promising more tailwinds
for Danish bike paths. Nicer weather for Denmark.
More jellies in bags of candy mix, shorter lines
at the supermarket, and more generous Christmas
presents. He also promised to include Nutella in
the field rations of the Danish army. And he won,
showing that while there may not be a lot of eccentrics
in Denmark, every one of them votes.
All viable candidates get a certain
amount of government money for their campaigns,
which they spend on posters and polls and experts.
Jacob spent his on a big party. In an exaggerated
version of drinks on the house, he spent his entire
allotment on beer. The “house” was the
whole town of Aarhus, the second largest city in
Denmark.
Once in, a politician receives
an annual expense payment of DKK 20 for every vote
received. “For three years I spent my annual
budget for free beer. The last year I put it into
a shopping spree. Then I met a charming 86-year-old
lady who had just broken one of her dentures. So
I took her to the dentist and got her a new one."
This is the best ward heeler tradition; Jacob became
the jolly godfather of the worker’s sector.
After his victory, he went to the
presentation of the new government at court in a
twisted caricature of a smooth politician’s
three-piece suit, cut from coffee sacks. The queen,
bless her heart, smiled. “She’s great.
She has a great sense of the artistic.” She
told him that what he had done was very historic.
“She thought it was a good idea, she liked
it. When people ask me what my role in parliament
is,” he said, “I always reply, that of
securing that the number of members remain uneven.”
His original idea was to perform
the duties of court jester, or king’s fool.
This is an honorable, time-tested position, but
you need a powerful monarch. In Denmark, “The
monarchy represents the ball on the flagpole. They
have power as long as they don’t use it.”
After one term, Jacob came to realize
that politicians, although they may have flashes
of acerbic wit, are actually pretty serious fellows.
Not only that, politics is a pretty serious job.
What they do affects the lives of real people, most
of whom have serious concerns.
He is a man of conscience, and
he couldn’t reconcile practical jokes with
people’s serious problems. “I couldn’t
sleep at night if I spoiled lives.” He saw
that he could make them laugh, but he couldn’t
help keep the currency stable, he didn’t know
how to protect old people, and he couldn’t
emerge from three-hour briefing on macroeconomics
and use that information to anybody’s benefit.
“Politics is like a soccer
match. The people are always screaming, and then
suddenly I was yanked onto the field. And it’s
hard work.” To his everlasting credit, he decided
not to run for re-election. To paraphrase Shakespeare,
“How ill the job of legislating people’s
lives becomes the fool.”
Everybody is proud of him. The
other parliamentarians commissioned an official
portrait to be made, which is a singular honor in
Danish politics. Now 50, he is entertaining for
a living -- “singing, recording, making fun.”
He has written a couple of books, including “The
Honored Member, the Jester.” He is married
with four children. Everybody still likes him, which
is pretty good for a politician that didn’t
keep a single one of his campaign promises. The
tailwinds on the bike routes are just as sluggish,
the supermarket lines are just as long, and the
Danish soldiers are still fighting without Nutella.
The Danes, however, through their
long dismal winters (this, I have to add, is yet
another campaign promise that he didn’t keep)
can look back on his career and get a good laugh.
That’s worth my vote.
|
