The Year of Living Danishly (25 page)

‘—And drugs,' adds Helena C.

‘Well, yes, we do them too…' The Viking wasn't expecting to have to field attacks from his countrywoman as well. But then Danes do love a good debate.

‘—And you eat a lot of fatty food,' this last one slips out at the precise moment the waitress comes over and slides a juicy burger on to the table next to us. ‘Sorry,' I murmur in their general direction.

‘OK, so maybe we're not the
healthiest
,' admits The Viking, ‘but we're individuals, we should have the choice.' He attempts to persuade me that, sure, Danes drink enthusiastically and smoke rebelliously, but that they're
enjoying
it, so everything's OK. ‘There's no stigma, you can decide for yourself, see?'

‘I think what it really boils down to is that we know we're covered whatever happens,' says Helena C. ‘More so than in the UK, even, because we have extra social welfare to help us out if anything goes wrong – we're looked after. This may make us a little complacent, I think.'

Attempts are under way to encourage Danes to take more responsibility for their own health. Some
kommunes
now bill patients who miss doctor's appointments or cancel with less than 24 hours' notice – something that they hope will also drive down doctor's waiting times.

‘It used to be pretty bad,' Helena C tells me. ‘People would just book a time to see a doctor then feel OK again and not turn up. It meant you could never get a time at some clinics and it cost the government a lot of money. Now, you have to remember to go.'

Since 2003, Denmark has also had an e-health database. Whereas the UK's abandoned patient record plans cost British taxpayers £10 billion (or $17 billion) and counting, according to parliament's public spending watchdog, the Danish system cost £6.6 million ($11 million) to set up and its reach is growing year on year. My yellow Danish CPR – or ID – card has a number on it that I use to log in to a special site that contains all of my medical records. There, I can choose which doctor or nurse I'd like to see, ask any questions and get repeat prescriptions. The medical bods can then access all of my information and history on the Danish Health Data Network via my personal ID.

‘Studies show that patients who are well-prepared and feel co-responsible and invested in their own healthcare feel happier and healthier,' says Morten Elbæk Petersen, director of the country's e-health database, Sunhed.dk, when I get in touch to find out more. Denmark's answer to Hugh Grant (
Four Weddings
-era) is all floppy hair, Scandi cheekbones and tweed, but with nineteen years at the top of Danish healthcare, Morten is a man in the know.

‘The e-health system is a cheap way to make people feel comfortable and keep them out of hospitals,' he tells me, ‘and we can then use the rest of the money in the government's budget on roads, education etc.'

The plan to make Danes more accountable for their own health shows signs of working – if slowly. Despite the ridiculously high numbers of smokers I see out and about, OECD figures show that the proportion of Danes lighting up has more than halved from 45 per cent in 1990 to 20 per cent in 2010. The government is also tackling the country's cancer problem by getting better at screening – with women aged 50–69 being offered mammograms every other year since 2007 and colon cancer checks every two years since 2014. Morten insists that Danish healthcare is in a good place: ‘In Denmark, we spend 12 per cent of our GDP on healthcare that works well, is efficient and is for
everyone
. In the US, for example, they spend 18 per cent of their GDP on healthcare but there's no equality or sharing – so some people have nothing.' The UK spends just 9.6 per cent, according to WHO figures.

There's a lot of interest in the Danish system from the Obamacare lobby, and Morten regularly meets with supporters in the US, keen to find out more. But many Americans remain reluctant to share their personal information. ‘A lot of people still hate the idea of the public sector seeing or owning their data,' says Morten. ‘Some people think the whole thing sounds too much like communism, that it makes you “unfree”. But actually, you're freer and safer if people are well looked after – if you know your neighbour can get the treatment he needs if he gets sick, he's not going to become desperate and rob you. Any time, anywhere access to personal clinical data empowers people – and for me there's no doubt that there must be connections between this and Denmark's high score on the happiness index.'

This is all sounding splendid. But could it work anywhere outside of the tiny land of 5.5 million people and 50 per cent taxes? Morten thinks so.

‘Australia is rolling out a personally controlled electronic health system like ours in a few years to their population of 20 million. There are five different states with strong boundaries there so in that way it's like five Denmarks, all working together.'

Another area that Danes seem to excel in is research. A staggering number of new medical and pharmaceutical finds come out of Denmark and in the last week alone Danish scientists have made the headlines for new discoveries about asthma, vitamin B12 and preventing heart attacks, to name but three. ‘We have good databases that go back in time and provide resources for research,' Morten tells me when I ask why this is, ‘plus the university hospitals here
really are
dedicated to research. Because it's free to study, there's always new work being done and so new findings and discoveries. And the results get used. Cures and treatments can go into practice very quickly in Denmark. This feeds back into the public who can see things improving due to the advancements in medicine and so people are happier to cooperate in studies and pay their taxes to fund the system – and so it goes on.'

Although I'm still not sure that living Danishly long term is necessarily good for your health, I'm feeling reassured that things are heading in the right direction. I'm also beginning to get my head around the Danes' libertarian attitude to life. They cherish their freedom to indulge every whim and really enjoy themselves, safe in the knowledge that they'll be looked after if (or rather,
when
) anything goes wrong. It's a bit like the school system and even the job market here – the individual has freedom within safe boundaries. Danes have a choice about what to do with their bodies, their minds, and their careers, but they agree to work together towards a collective goal: maintaining and championing The Danish Way.

To round off my month of medical discoveries, I call Niels Tommerup from the Department of Cellular and Molecular Medicine at the University of Copenhagen. I explain about my project and ask if he thinks there could be something else, something more fundamental, something
in the genes
that helps Danes to be so content.

‘As a geneticist, I'd say that everything is genetics, especially mood,' Niels tells me. ‘Genetics affect your basic disposition, whether you're optimistic or pessimistic. There are people out there who are just
always happy
. Even if you throw a brick at them.' I'm hoping he hasn't put this to the test during the course of his studies. But then the Danes
are
a hardy bunch.

So what does he make of the worldwide happiness studies that keep putting Danes at the top. Could the good people of Denmark just be naturally happier than folk from other countries?

‘Yes and no,' is Niels' diplomatic response. ‘It's difficult to isolate genetics from cultural factors and the total genetic effect on well-being is estimated to be in the order of 50 per cent – i.e. the other half is contributed by the environment. But even if you say Danes are happy due to environmental and cultural factors, you can still ask: “Why did the Danes establish this culture? Is it something to do with the Danish disposition? Did the social democrat movement come about because we're all
related
genetically, so that we feel obliged to take care of each other, just as you'd look after a poor relation in your family?” It's a hen and egg situation.' Danes love a hen and egg analogy. The few times I've suggested ‘chicken' as an alternative, it's scrambled their brains. ‘There's also a study showing a correlation between the genetic distance within a country and its well-being, even when factors like GDP per capita are taken into account,' Niels continues. ‘And Denmark is the country with the
least
genetic distance between the population, because we've had less migration historically.' In other words, the Danes are an insular bunch who haven't moved around or mated much with people from neighbouring nations and this has made them, weirdly, far happier than the rest of us. ‘A homogenous population is more likely to be more content and trust each other because we're closely genetically related – like a family.'

This is a rather uncomfortable revelation – the idea that cultural isolation makes you more content.
How's a girl supposed to integrate and get in on the ‘happy Dane' deal if she's not really wanted as an ‘outsider'?
The answer seems too dark to contemplate. But Niels' point about Denmark being ‘like a family' does make sense – and sounds a little more palatable. In all but the most dysfunctional
Dynasty
-meets-
Jerry Springer
style families, people
do
look out for each other. And if the whole of Denmark is essentially related, it's no wonder that living here can occasionally feel like an extended episode of
The Waltons
(if the Waltons wore cooler glasses and did their darning in designer chairs. Less Amish chic, more minimalist Zen).

A study from the University of Warwick into happy Danes also found that the greater a nation's genetic distance from Denmark, the lower the reported well-being of their inhabitants.
So Danes are so damned happy that the more closely related your country's population is to them, the jollier you'll be?
I marvel.
This is incredible!

There's another humdinger, too. Niels tells me that studies have shown that there may be a specific ‘happy gene'.

‘It's called the 5-HTT, or the “serotonin-transporter gene”, and it's a major target of many drugs aimed at mood regulation. The 5-HTT gene affects how your brain handles neurotransmitters and there have been huge population studies showing the relation between your mood and whether you have the long form of this 5-HTT gene. And if you look at the frequency of long-form 5-HTT worldwide, Denmark comes out on top. The Danish population as a whole has been shown to have higher levels of the gene – we score in the top percentages in the world along with Holland.'

Hang about, so an elongated 5-HTT gene will make you happier than the average Joe and most Danes have just
got it
? This is amazing. But where does it leave the rest of us? Those not fortunate enough to have been born with the white cross of the
Dannebrog
going through us like a stick of rock? Does this mean I've been trying to live Danishly, all in vain? Niels reminds me that the genetic effect only accounts for 50 per cent.

‘So there's still a 50 per cent chance that I can get happy, Danish-style?'

‘Yes.'

‘OK…' I cling on to this and ask Niels if he thinks that he's ‘genetically happy'. He tells me: ‘I'm sure of it. I'm a very happy person. I'd say I'm an eight or nine out of ten. It's a privilege to be Danish, I feel lucky to have been born here. We are a good nation with great culture and wealth. If we lose to the Swedes in soccer or get depressed for five seconds, it's nothing.'

I'm pleased for him. Really, I am (can't you tell?). But I hang up the phone with a sigh, resigning myself to the fact that I've only got a 50 per cent chance of nailing this Danish happiness thing. I attempt to console myself by walking the dog, in the hope that the exercise will release feel-good endorphins. On the way home, I pick up 50 per cent of my new weekly
snegle
quota, in the hope that the stodge will release feel-good serotonin. Health and happiness Danish-style is, I decide, all about balance.

With Lego Man away for another week, I get roped in to attending October's major event solo. This is the highlight of the Jutland calendar: the closing of Legoland for winter. To understand quite the impact that this has on the local community, you just need to look around at all the harassed-looking parents of small children, now desperately wondering how on earth they're going to fill their weekends and entertain their little darlings during the long winter ahead. American Mom is already frantically trying to arrange playdates and stockpiling
Dora the Explorer
DVDs.

As a final hoorah before the region goes into a state of mourning for the much-treasured theme park, there's a closing party to mark the end of the season. I'm hoping for a
Dirty Dancing
-esque end-of-season bash, complete with singing, choreographed dance routines and Patrick Swayze. So it's a disappointment to find that the reality is rather less glamorous and involves far fewer rippling torsos.

Wearing wellies and Lego Man's parka, the only coat that now fits me, I stand holding a bottle of fizzy water in one hand and clutching a sparkler in the other. Rain threatens to put out the latter at any moment, as though even the sky is sad that Legoland is closing. I hasten to write my name in air with the cascade of spitting fire before it's extinguished by drizzle. Fortunately my name is fairly short. A Danish girl called ‘Karen-Margrethe' standing next to me is, frankly, buggered.

The rides are all open for a final adrenaline rush, but from the ‘Polar Express' to the teacups, not one of them allows pregnant women on them. I'm stuck holding the coats and the hands of small children as the rest of the grownups get giddy and gently sozzled on Carlsberg. In Denmark, walking around a children's theme park with a Danish beer in hand is seen as patriotic, rather than provocation for an ASBO.