Winter and fortitude

The 2014 Winter Olympic Games are over and the verdict is in: Norway placed second in gold and third in total medals behind the United States and Russia.

But stop and think a moment. Norway has a relatively tiny population of 5.1 million, some 1.5 million less than the state of Massachusetts. If Massachusetts were a country and garnered Olympic medals at the same rate as Norway, we would have walked away with the world’s top honors.

This puts into perspective the remarkable Norwegian achievement, whose winter athletes won medals on par with world superpowers. How can this be?

Obviously, Norway is geographically located in the far north. Its capital, Oslo, is farther north than Juneau, Alaska, and the country extends well past the Arctic Circle. Norwegians live winter ten months of the year.

But these simple facts don’t begin to tell the story of this tenacious people, their extreme mental and physical toughness. For that, we must turn to the historic exploits of Jan Baalsrud and the Norwegian villagers who saved him.

During World War II, Norway was occupied by the Nazis. It was a dark time, as Hitler’s forces turned the Scandinavian Peninsula into their northern fortress. The Germans launched Norwegian-based submarine raids against supply convoys destined for Russia. Air patrols projected control over the North Sea. Nazi troop concentrations convinced Sweden to maintain its uneasy neutrality.

Worse, Norway’s abundant hydroelectric power was at the heart of Hitler’s nuclear energy program. If successful, the war’s outcome would have been grim and quick, with Hitler as the new world ruler. This could not be allowed to stand.

Jan (“yahn”) Baalsrud was one of a patriotic band of Norwegian resistance fighters. Early in the war he escaped to Russia and eventually arrived in England, where he was recruited into an elite commando unit. After completing a grueling training program, he was assigned a dangerous mission to disrupt a Nazi airfield and recruit others into the resistance.

Departing from the Shetland Islands in late March, 1943, aboard the fishing cutter Brattholm with a crew of eight, Baalsrud and three other commandos were covertly landed on the Norwegian coast. Through a tragic mistake, they made contact with a Nazi sympathizer having the same name as their intended contact. Not knowing their cover was blown, they returned to the boat to prepare their weapons and explosives.

The next morning, the Brattholm was attacked by a Nazi patrol boat. To avoid the capture of sensitive codes and materiel, the crew sank her using a time delay fuse and eight tons of explosives. The crew and commandos set out in a small boat which was promptly sunk by cannon fire. Baalsrud and the others swam to shore, now teeming with troops, and attempted to evade capture. All were killed except Baalsrud, who, soaking wet and missing one boot, managed to kill a Gestapo officer and escape into the icy mountains towering 3,000 feet over the sea.

And then began a two-month, desperate bid for survival, aided by villagers at great risk to themselves. They dared not allow Baalsrud to stay in their homes, as the Gestapo would shoot an entire family if discovered. But they provided him with skis and sent him into the mountains to a hidden hut. Snow blind, frostbitten, and near death, Baalsrud managed to survive between the very occasional deliveries of provisions by the villagers, who could not allow the Nazi’s to detect their mountain forays.

As a measure of his grim ordeal, Baalsrud was forced to amputate his own toes to prevent the spread of gangrene. This rough surgery was extraordinarily painful but ultimately successful.

Eventually, the villagers managed to convey Baalsrud into the high, frigid interior plateau where they met a group of native Lapps. The Lapps agreed to carry him to safety in Finland using reindeer-drawn sleighs. Baalsrud survived, spent seven months in a Swedish hospital, and returned to England. After learning to walk again without toes, he resumed his role as a commando, training others and eventually returning to Norway as a freedom fighter.

This short narrative gives only a slight hint of the physical and mental fortitude of the Norwegian people. The full story involves cross country skiing at high speed to escape vehicle-mounted Nazi patrols, and skiing uphill thousands of feet into frozen mountains and glaciers, all while blinded by wind-whipped snow.

No, it is small wonder that Norway won so many gold medals. In games, as in life, they are toughened by winter. Something to which New Englanders can certainly relate.

Of hungry ducks and private property

Diving duck (scaup)

Consider the scaup (diving duck). On an early February day at low tide, upper Narragansett Bay, the duck is diving for clams, oysters, and mussels. Each time spending fifteen seconds or more under water, swimming and foraging vigorously, he often comes up empty. Only to take a deep breath and go down again into the icy depths.

This is an application of search theory. Search theory is claimed by several fiefdoms of bright scientists. Economists think it has to do with buyers or sellers who can’t immediately engage a trading partner and are thereby obligated to search for one. Military strategists are certain that search theory pertains to locating enemy submarines or finding the black box from a downed aircraft. Biologists use it as a tool to describe foraging behavior in species as disparate as early humans, wolf packs, and herds of elephants.

They are all right. Search theory has to do with optimizing success while minimizing time and energy spent in the search. And searching for food is fundamental to all living organisms.

Diving ducks employ search theory to locate mollusks, their primary sustenance. Honed by millions of years of evolution, their search techniques are polished to maximize results while minimizing time and energy expenditures. The outcome is mortal. If they expend more energy in searching than they gain in prey, they will perish.

This particular scaup, on his fifth dive, is successful and surfaces with an oyster in his beak. And is immediately accosted by a marauding seagull who steals the oyster and flaps off to enjoy his purloined meal. The scaup, its energy expended and wasted, must initiate a new search. This could be deadly, as each unsuccessful search in the frigid water drains his vital life force.

Which underscores the importance of private property. In early human times, weaker tribes were plundered by stronger and had their livestock and stored grains stolen. The result was often a gruesome death by starvation, especially if this occurred in the depths of winter. 

In the Middle Ages, the hard life of peasant farmers was one of overwork and difficult survival as they were forced to give up most of their production to feudal lords. This was a long, dark era with much poverty and little to recommend it. It all began to change with the Magna Carta in 1215, when the rights of the king's subjects began to be recognized.

The evolution of individual rights brought stability and countered these lawless expropriations. Individuals and families and traders were able to benefit from their labor, storing the fruits thereof and building a strong community capable of withstanding severe winters and occasional droughts. Governments began to enshrine the concept that producers owned the product of their labor, motivating them to produce more.

As technology developed and surpluses increased, protected by private property laws, society was able to spin off musicians and artists and sculptors, as not every individual was required to produce food for everyday survival. Private property encouraged the production of surpluses, and protected them. But it also required that consumers must purchase foodstuffs from the producers.

A bad bargain? No, unless you’d prefer that each individual spend all their waking hours producing food for survival. That would be turning the clock back 10,000 years.

The next time you hear the concept of private property vilified, imagine competing with your neighbors to pick the local apple trees bare and hunt down every rabbit and deer in the nearby woods and fields. Bare knuckle brawls and all, as you struggled for your family’s survival.

The anarchist movement, such as  Occupy Wall Street who eschew private property, want to take you for a trip in the way-back machine. Might not be as delightful as you think. At least the scaup doesn’t think so. If only he could get a restraining order on that seagull.