From Habit to Tradition: Hygge, Friluftsliv, and Mask Wearing
Habits are intensely personal. In many ways they define who we are as individuals. Habits are often unthinking, but even with conscious effort they are difficult to break. We label others based on their habits — as a workaholic or a smoker, as compassionate or lazy — and we attribute great meaning to seemingly inconsequential habitual activities — e.g. successful people make their bed every day. But habits are also collective. As such they help us define who We are and how They are different. Introvert vs. Extrovert. Flosser vs. non-Flosser. Conscientious citizen or Anti-masker. Our habits teach us about one another in ways we might otherwise struggle to articulate.
According to British anthropologist Paul Connerton, our habits have an even more crucial role to play; they carry the critical social information that, over generations, informs our ways of living and solidifies into cultural traditions.[1] He calls this information social memory. Connerton posits that social memory is most effectively perpetuated across time and place not by inscribed artifacts (books, images, names, online posts, etc.) but rather by bodily habits. In other words, despite our efforts to memorialize our thoughts we best communicate our priorities, hopes, and world views through time by our consistent physical activities. By repeating habits over generations ways of moving, working, and living can become normalized within a community thereby gelling into distinct traditions.
Two Nordic traditions recently marketed to Americans, hygge and friluftsliv, are convenient examples of this dynamic. Hygge, pronounced hyoo-guh, is the Danish tradition of seeking and acknowledging cozy contentment and friendly togetherness in simple pleasures, especially during colder months. Hygge has been trending in America since 2015 with coffee shops and design books seeking to capitalize on the propensity of many Americans to chase happiness by consuming warm and fuzzy things. However hygge is far from a commercial fad in Denmark. Rather, for the Danes it is a lifestyle built on habits involving appreciation of essential comforts and the pleasant feeling of likeminded company to make the best of a dreary climate. Routines of sharing coffee and conversation near the fireplace, or thoughtfully preparing a favorite family meal are classic examples of hygge. The word was adopted into the Danish language in the late eighteenth century, and in the generations since hygge habits have blossomed into a national tradition.
As the intimate and thoughtful gatherings of hygge have become inadvisable during the pandemic, friluftsliv, the Norwegian concept of celebrating the outdoors, has experienced a similar though less intense awareness in the United States. Friluftsliv, pronounced free-loofts-liv, originated in the habit of regularly participating in outdoor activities, even in inclement weather, as a method to combat the depressing potential of the long and cold Scandinavian winters. Over time, solitary nature walks and community sporting events have evolved into entire Nordic festivals based on resolute habits of outdoor living. While for Americans this may be a conscious and temporary distraction from the coronavirus, for Norwegians living above the Arctic Circle friluftsliv has morphed from necessary habits that bolster mental health to a full-blown cultural philosophy that is impossible to disentangle from the context in which it originated.
Working to find cozy contentment generally has a positive connotation, but some habits are more fraught. Many habits are politically, socially, and racially charged. Given the potential for individual habits to crystallize into collective traditions, the fact that habits are not neutral becomes critically important. And when people are pressured to adopt habits that do not align with the cultural traditions that inform their community, problems can occur.
The resistance to protective face masks in the United States is a relevant example. Though many accepted the inconvenience of mask wearing as a communal public health measure at the outset of the Covid-19 pandemic, many Americans have done so only when strict mandates were enforced. For those people mask wearing conflicted with their tradition of individualism and their habitual displays of personal freedom. It did not take long for resistance to masks and other public health orders to escalate into a sort of ritualistic activity, what Connerton considers the other crucial transmitter of social memory. On April 17th, 2020, eight hundred disgruntled Minnesotans protested at the Minnesota governor’s mansion in St. Paul to reaffirm their tradition of individualism against masks wearing and other restrictive habits mandated to slow the pandemic. It was the first of many such gatherings.
Eventually we will transition from the crisis period of the pandemic to some semblance of normalcy. How quickly that happens will largely depend on the habits we collectively adopt. Whether in crisis or not, however, it behooves us to carefully consider the habits we perpetuate. We should begin to view our habits not so much as indications of individual productivity or character, but as the seeds of future cultural traditions that will structure our collective perspectives for generations to come.
[1] Paul Connerton, How Societies Remember (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Paul Connerton, How Modernity Forgets (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).
