Life is a Smorgasbord

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At home, Cilla and I talk about things like this all the time. We both love to travel, speak several languages, and find almost nothing more interesting than exploring cultural differences. In Cilla’s case it’s a vocation as well as an avocation—she’s a professional cross-culturalist who advises executives who are moving from one country to another. So what is it, I asked my resident cross-cultural expert, that makes American and Swedish attitudes toward choice so very different?

Freedom in Sweden, says Cilla, is not only—not even primarily—about economic choices. It’s more focused on other factors—the efficiency, beauty, or reliability of goods, the quality of life. Freedom means having leisure time to spend with family and friends, the opportunity to learn and travel. The Swedish idea of choice is to express your individuality in ways that are not tied to your wallet. Although a Swedish grocery store may only carry four brands of soap, Swedes have far more political choices than we do: seven different political parties hold seats in parliament in a country of only 9 million.

Like most Scandinavian and contintental European nations, Sweden is a far more relationship-oriented society than the United States. Cilla cites Dutch social scientist Geert Hofstede, one of the 20th century’s most prominent researchers on intercultural communication, who notes that in a relationship-oriented society, individuals seek affirmation from the group before doing anything and actively avoid standing out from the crowd. This attitude—like the welfare state itself—is consistent with the high value Swedes put on freeing the individual from hardship and discomfort. But it brings consequences that might make Americans snicker, or feel frustrated. An older Swedish woman once told me that the Bosnian refugee family that had recently moved into her apartment building were good people because “they follow the laundry room rules.” That was high praise in a culture where every apartment building has a scrupulously clean laundry room with strict rules for reserving a time to do your wash.

The United States, on the other hand, is individualistic in the extreme. Identity in this country, Cilla explains, begins with the individual’s sense of self rather than membership in any group. Personal choices in America are about exercising your capacity for individual expression and creativity. Cilla was surprised at how much culture shock she felt moving here. It was a bit like the scene from Moscow-on-the Hudson, a 1984 movie about a Russian saxophonist who defects to the United States. One day he goes into a supermarket to buy coffee, and finds dozens and dozens of varieties. His head begins to spin, he hyperventilates, and ends up in the hospital. After five years in the United States, Cilla’s come to terms with American life. It’s “the little life,” that she enjoys most about this country—owning a single-family house and a car, access to a wide variety of international foods, music. Yet she’s conflicted, too. “When I step back, I realize that it’s all dependent on this huge, unsustainable apparatus that pollutes the environment and exploits the developing world.”

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