Nina Fjeldheim: Building Norway’s First Humanist School Against Legal and Cultural Resistance

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/08/31

Nina Fjeldheim is the principal of a pioneering humanist school in Norway. With a background in the history of religion and education, she advocates for an inclusive, secular pedagogy grounded in critical thinking, compassion, and curiosity. Her leadership has challenged traditional norms, emphasizing diversity, equity, and deep ethical development in education.

In an extensive conversation with Scott Douglas Jacobsen, Nina Fjeldheim outlines the long and challenging journey of establishing a humanist school in Norway. The project faced multiple rejections from the government, initially because it was “not religious enough” to qualify for the same legal framework and funding as other life-stance schools. The founders argued that this constituted discrimination, as Norwegian law historically recognized both religious and humanist organizations in similar ways.

The dispute centred on the mandatory Christianity curriculum, which the school wished to replace with philosophy and comparative religion. The aim was to encourage open discussion, critical thinking, and exploration of similarities and differences among world religions. However, the authorities maintained that this approach did not conform to the approved model.

After years of legal challenges, including proceedings that reached the European Court of Human Rights, the school was eventually allowed to operate. Despite the limited public funding available to private schools in Norway, it now offers a rich program—including international trips, literature, and ethics—at no additional cost to families.

Fjeldheim emphasizes the importance of teaching cognitive and social diversity, moral reasoning, and media literacy. The school actively fosters inclusivity by integrating students from a wide range of backgrounds and abilities, confronting prejudice, and nurturing emotional intelligence through open discussion. For her, humanism is not simply the absence of religion, but a values-based approach to education that develops resilient, reflective, and socially conscious individuals.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: What was the process for establishing a humanist school in Norway?

Nina Fjeldheim: We wanted to create the best school possible in Norway, and it naturally evolved into a humanist school. However, when we first applied for approval, the authorities told us, “This is not religion. You do not believe in God.”

We replied, “Christianity and humanism have long been regarded as parallel life stances in Norway.” Historically, both religious and humanist organizations were recognized and supported under similar frameworks. That understanding, however, was changing, and our application was rejected.

We submitted another application, clearly outlining the school’s humanist foundations and curriculum. This time, the authorities said, “No. This is too far removed from a standard school model.” Now, the problem was that it was too humanist.

We went back and forth with the ministry. One of the main sticking points was the requirement to teach Christianity. We did not want to present it as faith instruction, but rather through the lenses of philosophy and comparative religion. My background in the history of religion informed this approach—we wanted to explore questions such as: What are the differences between religions? What do Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have in common? Why do they share so much? How have they evolved differently?

The authorities rejected this. They said, “No. No. No. This is not acceptable.” Eventually, we filed a legal challenge, arguing that our rights were being violated under both Norwegian law and international human rights law.

Jacobsen: So, you ended up in Strasbourg?

Fjeldheim: Yes. Eventually, the case reached the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, where the issue of religious neutrality in education had already been debated in earlier cases, such as Folgerø and Others v. Norway. That case had ruled that Norway’s compulsory religious education curriculum at the time was discriminatory toward non-religious families. We drew attention to this precedent and said, “You argued in Strasbourg that anyone can start a humanist school. So why is it not working in practice?”

Ultimately, they admitted, “You’re right.” The government reversed its position. We had a meeting with the state’s legal representatives—high-level lawyers for the government. They were skilled and experienced; we, by contrast, were not lawyers, and it did not feel very secure. We thought, “How are we going to make this case convincingly?” But in the end, they agreed: we were being mistreated.

We realized we could not proceed under the original terms. Eventually, the authorities acknowledged the discrimination. They admitted, “Yes, we did discriminate against you,” and granted us the right to start a humanist school.

But in Norway, starting any private school is challenging. The country generally does not encourage private schooling. While private schools receive about 85 percent of the funding that public schools receive, the remaining 15 percent must be covered by parents.

When we started, we didn’t want to charge parents anything since no one knew who we were. There was no reputation to rely on. From July 1, everything had to be in place, and any expenses incurred before that date had to come out of our own pockets. It is structured to be as difficult as possible to launch a private school. On the day we were set to open, I was thinking, “How did we even get here?”

Jacobsen: Just a side note—Is it challenging to start a private school in general, or is it specifically tough to start a secular private school?

Fjeldheim: It is difficult for private schools, period. Norway does not want private schools. Only a tiny percentage of Norwegian children attend them. Most children attend public schools, and this is rarely questioned.

In our school, we see that many of our students have at least one parent who was born in another country. Those parents are often more accustomed to thinking critically about educational options, asking, “What kind of child do we have? What environment is best for them?”

In contrast, in Norway, it is typical to send your child to the closest public school. People do not often consider alternatives unless something has gone wrong.

Jacobsen: There’s a very high level of trust in the public school system, for sure.

Fjeldheim: Very high. Everyone has been through it, and they believe it is good. For a long time, Norwegians genuinely believed their schools were among the best in the world. Then came the PISA results, which showed otherwise.

People were shocked. I remember the public reaction—it was like, “Are we not the best?” Norway spends more money on education than most countries in the world. That part is genuine. Yet the results are pretty mediocre. So that is what we were working with. It raises the question: Why are we not getting more value out of that investment?

I ask myself the same thing. For the first three years, we did not take any money from our parents. Now we do, but we still haven’t reached the full amount we are allowed to. We receive about 95–96 percent of what a typical public school gets. Yet we take our students on a 10-day trip to Spain and a five-day trip to Athens, and they incur no additional costs for these experiences.

We have the funds to do that. And other schools do not. So why do they not have the money for this? What are they spending it on? It is not a money issue. But in Norway, most people will still say, “The schools do not get enough funding.” From my experience, we get more than enough. That is not the problem.

Jacobsen: Do you find that in wealthier societies and many industrial economies, the public often assumes that throwing more money at education will automatically solve systemic issues? Is financial magical thinking involved?

Fjeldheim: Yes, very much so. Many people believe that teachers lack the time to support their students adequately. They assume students are burdened with personal challenges that need addressing, and the response is often to hire more school psychologists, more social workers, and more special education teachers.

There is also a strong belief in inclusive education—that all students should attend the same school, including those with intellectual and developmental disabilities. What is the appropriate term? Would you say “intellectually disabled”?

Jacobsen: No, not exactly. The terminology has evolved. There are different classifications and sensitivities around the language we use. People often change the terms and believe that doing so changes the substance of the issue. What it does is shift the emotional framing. It reflects a change in social norms and affects how people respond, but the core challenges often remain the same.

For example, we no longer say “autistic child”; instead, we say “a child with autism” to use person-first language, though some prefer identity-first language like “autistic person.” The choice can depend on personal or cultural preferences.

So, in this case, you might say “a child with a learning disability” or “a child with an intellectual disability,” depending on the diagnosis.

Fjeldheim: Exactly. But it is essential to distinguish between learning disabilities—which refer to specific difficulties with reading, writing, or math in individuals with average or above-average intelligence—and intellectual disabilities, which are characterized by an IQ below 70 and limitations in adaptive functioning.

Jacobsen: So, let’s put it this way, and correct me if I am wrong—when using the ratio method of measuring IQ in children up to about age 16, if a child is 10 years old but performs intellectually at the level of a 7-year-old, their IQ would be 70, assuming the average is 100. Correct?

Fjeldheim: Yes.

Jacobsen: So we are talking about children functioning at that level and below.

Fjeldheim: Yes. But that can change depending on when the test is taken.

Jacobsen: So, we are dealing with children within that cognitive range.

Fjeldheim: Right. And you have a range—some children are not functioning well at all, while others function pretty well. Most individuals with an IQ of around 70 can learn to read and write. They typically do not have difficulties with basic literacy. Still, they may struggle with social interaction, understanding irony, or grasping unspoken social rules. That part—the social game—can be challenging.

We also have students in our school with IQs below that level. On the other end of the spectrum, we have students with exceptionally high IQs, in the top one percent.

Jacobsen: The top one percent, yes.

Fjeldheim: Yes, those students also need extra support. They often do not thrive in a conventional classroom setting without additional accommodations. So we have all of them in the same classroom. In Norway, that is standard practice, even though we used to have special schools. We no longer have those, but many students are placed in special groups within mainstream schools.

It is essentially a different way of talking about segregation. Still, more students are in those special groups now than were in the former special schools. However, we aim to create a diverse and inclusive classroom environment. At the Humanistic School, we are committed to this approach because students with diverse abilities need to learn together. It fosters mutual care and understanding. If we do not bring them together, that understanding will not develop.

Unfortunately, this approach is starting to shift. I am seeing increasing pressure to remove certain students from mainstream classrooms. Some believe it is a better idea to separate them, but I strongly disagree. There is considerable pressure to do this because many people think it is sensible. But it does not. Where will these children go? Who will they be with? How will they grow? How will they succeed?

It will not work. However, there is still a push to remove them. We even feel it from parents, who will say things like, “Why are these students here? Isn’t there somewhere else they should go?” I have said, “It seems your child is having difficulty being around peers who are less advanced than he is academically. That is something he needs to learn to manage, because it is an important life skill.”

We are a humanistic school. He must learn to interact respectfully with people from diverse backgrounds and abilities. We are witnessing a significant shift taking place.

Jacobsen: There is the Peace School in Toronto. They had initially established a school in Iran but later relocated to Toronto. They operate from a humanistic education model. They have also contributed to several publications. Now we have representation across many regions of the world. Perhaps next we will hear from someone in Taiwan—that could help complete our global map for this project.

From what I gather, what matters is not enforcing academic homogeneity but instead accepting cognitive diversity as part of human evolution and variation. Children can be cognitively heterogeneous, and we need to meet them where they are.

But I think what you are also getting at—something more subtle—is an ethos: a value system of inclusivity and solidarity. That we are all part of the same team is a central theme in the Amsterdam Declaration: the emphasis on social responsibility, not just individualism or pure communitarianism, but a respect for both, held in balance.

Fjeldheim: Definitely. We want to maintain high expectations for all students, including those who face different challenges. They, too, need to be encouraged to grow, to stretch, to improve. But for me, what is essential is that we work together as a society. And that means we need all kinds of people.

I am also very strict about how students behave toward others. We dedicate a significant amount of time to character development and social responsibility. Every time a student uses a word like “poor,” “gay,” “faggot,” “Jew,” or any other identity-based term in a derogatory way, they are required to call their parents. We take it very seriously.

Jacobsen: And it is everywhere—especially on social media.

Fjeldheim: It is. It is everywhere. They need to understand where these attitudes come from, because most of the time, they do not. I have had students in class who believe that telling an antisemitic joke is acceptable as long as no Jewish person is present.

They genuinely think the problem only arises if a Jewish person hears it. And I have had to say to them, “Okay, let’s stop and think. What is my background? Do you even know who you are talking to?”

Which is not good, you know? They do not understand. For example, they might call a Black friend “slave” as a joke. That is not okay. And then they say, “Didn’t she understand I was kidding?” I tell them, it is not about whether or not you are joking. She does not care if you were kidding. You do not call people that. You do not say that.

This particular girl had ADHD, so I said to her, “What if I told you every day, ‘I am so sick and tired of you having ADHD. You never seem to have a single clear thought. You are always going on and on—blah blah blah.”

What if I said that to you every day? How would that make you feel?

And she replied, “I would hate it. That would be horrible.”

And I said, “Exactly. That is what you are doing to your friend when you keep pointing out that she is Black. That is something she cannot change. But you keep calling it out.” They do not understand. It takes a significant amount of time and effort to help them form meaningful and respectful relationships.

Jacobsen: What about the deeper level of that—a kind of nuanced social ethic? What about instilling respect not only when someone is present, but also when they are not, maintaining a consistent image of the other person’s identity and dignity? How does that work? How do you instill that? That kind of moral consistency? I suppose it is similar to teaching object permanence, but in the social and ethical domain.

Fjeldheim: Yes, sometimes it is a long journey with them. But we address it in different ways. We teach them about the history of humanity—how people have treated one another over time. We also introduce them to psychological concepts, such as in-groups and out-groups—why we form them and why people gossip.

We explore what gossip does to us psychologically, and how devastating it can be to feel excluded, to be without a sense of belonging, without “your people.” Yes, we discuss all of these things. And we do it intentionally and regularly.

We also do a great deal of work—recently, I have been studying conspiracy theories, for example. And yes, we explore that topic in depth.

Jacobsen: I am very sorry for the lost time.

Fjeldheim: Yes. We have them play games like Bad News, for instance. It is designed to teach media literacy by letting players create and spread fake news. It helps students recognize the techniques used in misinformation and understand why certain content goes viral. They start to see what is happening behind the scenes, such as how bots and algorithms play a role.

Yes, we use games like that in class. We also address social dynamics right away. The students usually do not expect that, mainly because they are young, around 13 when they begin. They are not used to teachers stepping into social or behavioural issues directly. You know? “Why did you say that? Why did you—?” They are not used to being called out for small things. They are not used to accountability.

We address that constantly. We will say things like, “People are saying you are acting in this way,” and they will respond, “Really?” And I will say, “Yes.”

Jacobsen: Is there a way to do that—especially with students who struggle behaviorally—without triggering a cycle of guilt and shame? Because if that becomes repetitive, it creates another set of challenges, and being a teenager is already hard. It is.

Fjeldheim: No, you are right. It is challenging because while shame can be harmful if overused, a healthy sense of guilt can be constructive. If someone feels bad about their actions, they are less likely to repeat them. So part of development is learning to process those difficult emotions. They are there for a reason—they help guide behaviour and social learning.

And we try to teach them that. I also teach them that feelings are not necessarily facts. Just because you feel something very intensely does not mean it is true. It does not even tell that it is essential. You need to be able to differentiate. It is your brain—not your emotions—that helps you evaluate what matters.

But of course, that is hard to get through to them, because their emotions are so strong at that age. They confuse emotional intensity with importance. If they feel something deeply, they assume it must be true, such as, “This is the person I will always love,” which usually is not the case.

“This will destroy me, I will never recover,” and so on. We try to help them with those overwhelming feelings, not by saying, “That is not true,” but by assisting them to understand that those feelings are not always trustworthy. A feeling might seem definitive now, but six months down the road, they will likely feel very different. That does not mean they are wrong now; it just means they have grown and their perspective has evolved.

We stay very close to our students. We get to know them well. They tell us almost everything, because they need adults who listen. I think many parents assume their kids are already small adults—because they can seem mature—but we see them more as big children.

Jacobsen: Are you familiar with Kohlberg’s theories of moral development? And Piaget’s stages of cognitive development, too? When working with kids starting at 13, do you notice a specific developmental leap—such as between 13 and 14 or 15 and 16—especially after a break or over a school year?

Fjeldheim: Yes, it happens differently for boys and girls. Boys generally mature later—they lag behind girls in most cases. Some boys are pretty mature, but most are not. They still want to play, run around, and be physically active, which is more typical of younger children. Girls, on the other hand, usually stop that kind of behaviour by the time they start at our school around 13. But the boys will keep doing it for their first year.

So you see those differences. Some boys enter puberty later and then feel left behind or confused—they do not understand why their peers are acting differently. They are thinking, “Why can’t we just play like we did before?”

As a result, they end up being socially excluded, and they do not understand why. They wonder, “Why is this not funny anymore? Why do we not play the same things we did last year? What is wrong? Why do they not want to do that anymore?”

For girls, the ones who tend to lose out are often those with challenges such as being on the autism spectrum. They struggle to understand what is happening because the social cues become very subtle. You need to pick up on the subtext. It is exhausting for them. That first year of lower secondary school is overwhelming.

There is so much pressure to present yourself a certain way. You are constantly self-conscious, thinking about how you look, how others perceive you, what they think, what you just said, whether it was the right thing, whether you misunderstood something, and why they are laughing—it is a mental overload.

So it is very different for boys and girls. And physically more petite boys—those who are shorter—often struggle more. Their physical size affects how they are perceived, and they end up feeling more childish or inadequate because of it.

Jacobsen: How did you end up with the humanistic approach?

Fjeldheim: Yes. Critical thinking has become a central element across all subjects. We also have something called Bildung—it does not translate well into English. It is a German term.

It refers to the holistic development of a person, understanding the world, their place in it, and how to interact respectfully with people from different cultures without coming across as ignorant. That is what we mean by Bildung. We offer it as a standalone subject.

I often joke that it is like the “hairdresser’s subject”—because a hairdresser should be able to talk to anyone about anything without sounding uninformed. That is the spirit of it.

In that course, we teach students introductory psychology, basic geopolitics, and cultural overviews—such as what is typical in Latin America or the United States—and explain why these regions are relevant to Norway.

We also tackle complex topics. For example: Why is the N-word offensive? Where does it come from? Why is it problematic? We trace our roots back to historical origins and provide context.

We have had real success with that approach because many students genuinely do not understand why certain things are considered wrong or harmful. They appreciate it when we take them through the entire background. We end up teaching them many things they can apply in real life.

That is one part of it. Another is that we offer elective subjects that align with our core values. The students can choose from three focus areas: curiosity, compassion, and critical thinking.

We have also moved away from textbooks entirely. We are now fully digital, which keeps our materials current and gives us the flexibility to adapt the pace and content as needed. It is not about racing to finish a textbook.

We run a three-year program. The first two years focus on introducing new topics, while the final year is dedicated to in-depth exploration. That is when we revisit and build upon what they have already learned.

For example, we cover evolution in both 8th and 10th grades—it is an essential topic for us as humanists. We introduce it early, then go into greater depth later.

By the time they reach 10th grade, topics become more complex. They are expected to understand ideas in context. For example, we cover all the major religions in the 8th and 9th grades. Then, in 10th grade, they should be able to answer: What is the difference between Semitic religions and Eastern religions? What distinguishes Eastern and Western religious traditions? Why are they different? They are expected to approach these topics with more depth and a critical perspective.

We also read literature—classic works, even some that are difficult—because we want them to engage with texts that do not immediately make sense. Many students shut down when they do not understand something. They will say, “I did not get it,” and then stop reading. They do not ask questions, they do not try, and they have not learned how to cope with that discomfort.

So we teach them how to deal with that as well. We teach them stamina. Because many of them become bored quickly, they are reluctant to rework things and tend to give up easily. We actively work on that with them.

For example, after a test, they receive a five-minute video from their teacher giving personalized feedback—what was good, what needs improvement, and what they misunderstood. Then they are expected to revise and resubmit it. They watch the video, do the homework, and submit a better version.

They learn a lot that way, though they often dislike it. They feel as though they are not done after the first round. They have to go back and improve, and that is hard for them to appreciate until they are older. But it works.

They also have to read 2,000 pages of literature each year—not textbooks, but actual books.

Jacobsen: When do they graduate from the humanist school? How do you handle ceremonies?

Fjeldheim: Yes, we do have ceremonies. They graduate after 10th grade—same as they would in public school. We hold a ceremony with speeches and diplomas, and we invite parents, siblings, and other guests.

Each student receives a rose, and we share a personal message with each one. For example: “Hi, Robin. Thank you so much for always putting on a kind face. Thank you for being so attentive to others,” and so on. It is individual and thoughtful.

We also give them a yearbook with their photos and a record of everything they have experienced. For instance: “We went to the opera. We went to this event…” because every week, we take them somewhere—whether to a theatre performance, an art exhibition, or even just walking around the city looking at architecture.

We do other things as well. We strive to provide them with the whole experience, as they will appreciate it later in life. It is important. We want them to feel comfortable outdoors, not feel helpless or embarrassed. So they learn how to read a map, build a fire, cook over it, and sleep outside without feeling unsettled.

We teach them those things because they are genuinely beneficial for their long-term mental health. These are practical skills they can carry with them when they leave us.

They also get our contact information on the very first day. Every student can reach out to me—any time, about anything.

Jacobsen: And you have been doing this for many years now.

Fjeldheim: Yes—ten years now.

Jacobsen: So, enough time has passed for students to graduate, attend college, possibly even graduate school, and then return.

Fjeldheim: Yes.

Jacobsen: What is the nature of those returns? Do they say “hello” or “thank you”, or…?

Fjeldheim: They do come back—especially in the first two years after graduating. They visit all the time. For example, this year’s group just left for upper secondary school, and they have already returned during the first week.

They will say, “Okay, Nina, listen… Please go over it again. How do I say no to alcohol?” That is something we talk about—how to handle peer pressure around drinking. They often do not want to drink but also do not want to say, “I am not into alcohol,” because that makes them feel awkward.

So we give them alternative phrases—things they can say that feel safer socially.

The same applies to drugs. If you do not want to smoke a joint, you can say something like, “I get super paranoid when I smoke.” Many people can relate to that. Nobody will question whether you are for or against drugs—it becomes a personal reason, and that is usually respected.

You can also say, “It does not work for me. I completely lose it when I try,” and people tend to leave it alone.

We also discuss topics such as sharing pictures. We tell them: if you send a naked photo, never include both your face and your body in the same shot. Either show your face with clothes on, or no face if you are undressed—never both. Otherwise, you are opening yourself up to serious risk.

If you are going to send a naked photo of your body, make sure your face is not in it. We are not telling them, “Do not do this, do not do that”—because that does not work. Instead, we try to offer realistic advice they can relate to.

The same applies to other things. I tell them, “Ask me anything—I will answer as honestly as I can.”

One student once asked, “Is it dangerous to mix cannabis with pills?” I told him, “Not really, but it is worse to mix it with alcohol.” Still, I explained that if you are going to use cannabis, do not mix it with anything. You will not know what is causing which effect, or how to respond.

And most importantly, postpone it if you are going to try it, fine—but not now. Your brain is still developing. It does not need substances interfering with it. The longer you wait, the better. You have your whole life to get drunk. Do not rush. You will have plenty of opportunities.

Of course, that is hard for them to understand. Still, they trust us. They come to us, they ask, and we get to give them answers. That is so much better than them not asking anyone at all.

Jacobsen: What is the harshest form of necessary discipline you have had to apply in cases of extreme behaviour?

Fjeldheim: I think it is hardest for the kids who struggle socially, mainly when that struggle stems from something they cannot help, like a diagnosis, or when it is because they have been bullied for years. When that happens, they develop odd behaviours.

We have had students who come in and speak as though they are in an American TV show—saying things like, “Oh my God, I can’t believe you said that!” It seems bizarre, but it is not intentional. It is what they have absorbed because they have had no real social life. They mimic what they see on screens.

They have not learned how to interact. They are unsure of what to say or how to behave naturally. And that is the most formidable challenge.

But it is also incredibly rewarding—when, a year or two later, those same students are functioning socially. They have friends, can relax, and figure out who they want to be. That is when you see it has all been worth it.

That is the best part. It is both the best and the hardest.

Jacobsen: Even though you are in a region where there is funding and freedom to establish an alternative school model, in other places—like Iran, for instance—creating a humanist school would be far more difficult, as you know. Are there some aspects of building a humanistic pedagogical space that money cannot buy?

Fjeldheim: Yes. It is not easy even in developing countries, mainly because many people do not have a clear understanding of what humanism is. That makes it hard to explain what we are trying to do.

Even here, at our humanist school, we have a lot of Christian students. We do not ask about a student’s religion when they enroll. So we have a fair number of Christians, and others who believe in things like astrology or ghosts.

We do not have many Muslim students, though, even though there are a lot of secular Muslims in Norway. Many would rather send their child to a Catholic school because it is “a school of God.”

They are less comfortable with us because we are very open about being a secular institution. There is no room for God in our curriculum. We do not teach religion as truth; instead, we teach students how to understand the world through the lens of science. That is our guiding framework.

I would love for us to have more diversity at the school, but that is a real challenge, especially in places like Uganda or elsewhere in Africa, where we are seen as being in direct opposition to Christianity or Islam.

Parents there cannot accept the idea of their child choosing not to follow the family religion, because often, religion is all they have.

I spent half a year in Ghana, working as a volunteer. And there, your religious group or church is your entire social safety net. If you leave it, you are on your own—and that is dangerous, because there is no state support system like we have here in Norway.

In Norway, you can live independently, as the government provides minimal support and helps you find employment. However, in many other places, your survival depends on your network, which includes your church and extended family.

And those communities often will not tolerate you drifting toward humanism, secularism, or atheism.

Jacobsen: Yes, it is seen as a weird group. In the United States, humanism and atheism are often racialized—seen as “white things” by some nonwhite communities.

Fjeldheim: Right.

Jacobsen: Organizations like Black Nonbelievers are very open about that, and it complicates outreach. There is also some evidence that similar dynamics exist in some Indigenous communities in North America, according to interviews.

The sample size is small, but the interviews are very long-form, and the patterns show the same phenomenon.

Fjeldheim: Yes.

Jacobsen: What are some misinformed or just naive things that even secular people say about humanist education—things they think are true but are not? Or cases where they misunderstand what is happening because they are missing the bigger picture?

Fjeldheim: One of the significant issues is that humanism is so diverse. Many things can be categorized under the label of “humanist.” Even in Norway, we have people who identify as Christian humanists.

It becomes confusing because there is the tradition of Enlightenment humanism—philosophical and historical—and then there is humanism as a life stance, which is often conflated with other ideas.

In Africa and Asia, the terms “humanitarian” and “humanistic” are often used interchangeably.

Jacobsen: Yes.

Fjeldheim: So it is hard for people to understand what it means. Even my parents did not get it. I was raised Christian, and when I started working in the humanist movement, my dad asked, “Can you write me an email explaining what you do? People are asking, and I do not know how to answer them.”

He said, “I do not know what you do, but please explain what it is.” I mean, even in Norway—where surveys show that about half the population identifies most closely with a humanistic life stance—most people still do not know what that means.

Jacobsen: That’s so interesting. I was also informed about how humanitarianism and humanism are often confused in some African regions. In some cases, that confusion is even exploited—some groups present themselves as humanist to attract international funding, only to disappear after receiving the money.

Fjeldheim: Yes, that’s been a concern raised by some leaders in the humanist movement from those regions—about the need to keep an eye on that kind of behaviour.

Jacobsen: Yes.

Fjeldheim: Yes. And what are you going to do, you know? It’s hard because the concept itself is often misunderstood. People ask, “What is life without God?”

I think many people assume that humanists aren’t very deep or spiritual. I get similar reactions around being bisexual. There are prejudices from both sides. The gay community sometimes sees bisexual people as indecisive, like we don’t want to be “all gay.”

Jacobsen: Like you want to stay safe. Or have a foot in both worlds.

Fjeldheim: Exactly. They think we’re just keeping one foot in the heterosexual world to avoid fully committing. Like we’re muddying the waters—trying to have the best of both worlds but not fully owning either.

It’s that same question: “Why can’t you just be like everybody else?”

And I can see where that sentiment comes from. With humanism, too, people say we copy religious traditions—especially the ceremonies, which are essential to Norwegian humanists.

People think we’re just mimicking Christianity, or borrowing traditions and repackaging them. And honestly, that’s not entirely wrong. However, it’s also true that humans have been holding ceremonies for a long time. These things aren’t uniquely Christian or Islamic—they’re human.

Ceremonies have always been part of how we come together as communities.

And honestly, creating those shared spaces—where people can feel safe, experience joy, and feel like they belong—is one of the most challenging yet essential parts of building a humanist life stance community. I think we’ve underestimated just how important that is to people.

Jacobsen: Alright, I’ve got one for you—what are your favourite humanist quotes? Kurt Vonnegut is acceptable. Others?

Fjeldheim: Oh, so many… That’s a hard one. I think the one I use the most—it might not be classically “humanist,” but it fits—is: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” That’s Churchill. I say that a lot. Don’t sit down. Keep moving.

Don’t stay there. Get the fuck out. You know? And that’s hard, because when you’re in it, you don’t know what to do. You freeze and stay stuck. You can’t see a way out—but keep going. Somewhere down the road, you’ll get somewhere. Eventually, so I think that’s the quote I use most.

And for something more humorous—there’s Aleister Crowley, “the wickedest man in the world,” soaking in cognac and cocaine. It’s great.

Jacobsen: There you go. That’s for the Thelemites out there.

Fjeldheim: He’s funny. But honestly, I don’t usually quote a lot. I like reading quotes, however. Like, when I give speeches, I do sometimes find ones I love—like a good quote from Luxembourg, for instance. I seek them out, but I’m really into heavy metal. That’s where most of my favourite quotes come from.

Jacobsen: Is that part of your speech? Where are the punks?

Fjeldheim: They’re not there! I’m trying so hard. Every time I start—

Jacobsen: —off with the punk rock museum? Down in the basement? Have you seen it?

Fjeldheim: Where?

Jacobsen: It’s on the central strip downtown—between Lebowski Bar and American Bar, kind of halfway between them. It’s a fairly wide area, located just off the park on the left side. There’s a stairwell leading down. I remember going in just as they were closing.

They were dressed to the nines in full punk gear, and then spoke with the most polished, polite accents. Super proper language. It was brilliant. And I was like—hold on, I’m still trying to process all this.

Fjeldheim: Yes. However, at black metal concerts in Norway, you’ll notice that they don’t require many guards. At hip-hop shows, they do. It’s just that nothing much tends to happen at black metal shows. So ironically, it’s one of the friendliest communities—just a bunch of people who never really fit in elsewhere, all coming together in the black metal scene. Additionally, during Reykjavik Week, there’s an old public toilet-turned-punk museum.

Jacobsen: Yes! That’s exactly what I was talking about.

Fjeldheim: Yes, that place is cool, but very small. You can bang on some drums, there’s stuff all over the walls, but that’s about it. Still, I’ve been there.

Jacobsen: I wonder if they play mostly black metal in there. Favourite bands?

Fjeldheim: Yes, I’m really into Norwegian black metal. Very nationalistic in that regard—conservative for Norway, at least! I’d say Satyricon is one of my top choices. Mayhem. Darkthrone—I like them too. I even travelled to Belo Horizonte in Brazil just because that’s where Sepultura is from. There wasn’t much else to do there. Still, I insisted, “We need to go to Belo Horizonte because of Sepultura.” I also enjoy classic heavy metal, but black metal is my acquired taste.

Jacobsen: Alright, side note—what’s the actual difference between black metal and heavy metal?

Fjeldheim: Oh, black metal is… more raw. You’ll hear that distinctive black metal vocal style—it’s harsh, screechy, chaotic. It’s wild. With heavy metal, you can understand the lyrics. In black metal, usually, you can’t. That’s part of the aesthetic. So, black metal is more into Satan and the whole “spawn the serpent” kind of thing. Death metal, on the other hand, is more about death itself. But yeah, black metal leans into that dark, theatrical, sometimes childish satanic aesthetic. What defines black metal, though, is the vocal style—that signature harsh, shrieking sound.

Jacobsen: Do you remember Dune? I think it was Dune: Part Two, the newest one. They had that one singer… That’s what I think of when I hear black metal. In the movie, they created this ultra-efficient language by removing parts of speech, and the singing is almost a projection of that. The character is technically speaking actual words, just in a very condensed manner.

Fjeldheim: Yes! That’s a great way to describe it. Very cool. And I think, in Norway, where everything’s kind of… fine, we need something like black metal. Sure, you can have a bad time, or even have bad parents, but generally, people are okay. The government looks after you. There’s always a support system. There aren’t that many big existential problems. So we need something to balance that positivity. Black metal is our dark side—it levels things out.

Additionally, Norway has only a few cities. Most people live out in the countryside, and that’s where black metal comes from. That’s the real origin. Even my brother used to be the lead singer in a black metal band. It’s everywhere. When I was growing up, it was a very binary choice—you were either into Metallica or Megadeth. That was the division. And yeah, Metallica was better before the crash. Ride the Lightning? Still the best.

Jacobsen: That might be the quote right there—”Ride the Lightning.” Awesome. Nina, thank you. Thank you very much for your time today. I appreciate you taking the time for this.  Okay. Well, thank you again for your time today. I appreciate it. I will be in touch. Thank you again.

Fjeldheim: Of course. Alright—enjoy your day.

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