The rise of complex drama coincided with a “golden age” of Scandinavian television. The opportunities of serial narration or “complex television” (Mittell, 2010; Dunleavy, 2018) – including character-centred plots, multiperspectivity, and long-lasting storylines – have been picked up by Scandinavian public service broadcasters and independent companies to produce a remarkable set of television dramas. While there has been a growing interest in Scandinavian Nordic Noir aesthetics and narratives (Jensen & Waade, 2013; Creeber, 2015), its reception (Degn & Krogager, 2017), and Scandinavian production culture (Redvall, 2013; Gamula & Mikos, 2014; Jensen et al., 2016; Hochscherf & Philipsen, 2017), few scholars have looked at recurring themes of global crises and international relations.
This article focuses on several case studies that illustrate ways in which contemporary Danish and Norwegian serial drama engages with migration, cross-border crime, military conflicts, and global terrorism that pose a threat to what is believed to be an advantageous welfare state and open society. These are issues and challenges commonly thought to be “geopolitical” because they directly address the capacity of states and federations of states to regulate their borders, manage national territories and anticipate threats to homeland security (Dodds, 2019). Our conceptual opening part examines how Nordic Noir contributes to lively debates within political geography and television studies about its popular geopolitical qualities in relation to the creative possibilities for and consequence of the television serial (on popular geopolitics as subfield, see, e.g., Saunders & Strukov, 2018; Dittmer & Bos, 2019). Thereafter we take a closer look at the dramas
Contemporary popular geopolitics of events and circumstances surrounding the war on terror, war on drugs, migration, climate change, Russian military and economic aggression, cyber warfare, and border politics has been found to be implicit in many American productions (see, e.g., Saunders & Strukov, 2018; Dittmer & Bos, 2019), including the much-acclaimed shows What we learned from The
A strategy that has certainly helped Danish and Norwegian drama in particular is the stress on a “public service layer” or “double storytelling” (Redvall, 2013: 68). First used strategically by DR, this production policy dictates that main storylines are not only entertaining, they have to be closely linked to relevant cultural, ethical, social, or political considerations. As Creeber (2015: 32) puts it in connection with crime drama:
The central crime at the heart of each narrative is simply a motor that enables the whole narrative world to revolve. […] Although the crimes will eventually be solved, the moral, political and social problems that produced them are not. These are issues that audiences are left to consider long after the final climatic episode has come to an end.
One particular trademark of Nordic Noir is the way it coalesces different public and private spheres. By linking the sociopolitical, economic, and cultural with the private lives of the protagonists, the audiovisual dramas exemplify how the key concerns of today can have an impact on everyday life. In so doing, many of the shows are closely linked to what the first British Director-General of the BBC John Reith had formulated as the public service remit: to educate, inform, and entertain. The important role of public service broadcasting in Denmark and Norway is grounded in the belief that both factual and fictional content play an important role in stimulating public awareness of timely issues. As such, DR has to promote a Denmark “built on values of democracy, equality and freedom of speech” (DR, 2018: 2) while NRK in Norway has “to promote public debate and play its part in ensuring that the entire population receives sufficient information to enable it to actively participate in democratic processes” (Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation, 2008: 1). Many private film and television companies, including Miso Film, Monster Scripted, and Yellow Bird, followed suit in order to sell their programmes to the state broadcasters. Since fictional television is made with such an intention, it ought to be taken seriously (see, e.g., Holbrook & Hill, 2005; Mutz & Nir, 2010; Van Zoonen & Wring, 2012).
The topics television dramas present are thus not merely entertaining, they are meant to fuel debates around them and offer causes for reflection. Even if one is somewhat reluctant to accept the main argument of the cultivation hypothesis – namely that television audiences who are exposed to repetitive values, beliefs, and interpretative models are inherently affected by television in their conception of social realities (see Gerbner et al., 1977, 1980, 1986) – few will challenge the notion that television dramas can impact public agendas or media frames (Hamilton & Shepherd, 2016). Scandinavian serials have instigated broader debates of pertinent political issues such as the Nordic foreign and security policies and relations with great powers such as Russia and the US. Television serial dramas by DR such as
During the first season of
It therefore seems appropriate to argue, as Rachel Gans-Boriskin and Russ Tisinger have done in connection with American drama
The dramas we focus on here link a specific fictional plot to actual geopolitical debates on topics such as homeland security, globalisation, migration, terrorism, eco-politics, and surveillance. In so doing, they always offer a double story, a dramaturgy that intermingles a specific plot with more wideranging topics and motifs. The way in which such themes are presented through the gloomy atmosphere of a Nordic Noir-ish landscape and the protagonists’ carefully designed middle-class homes makes visible the invisible and acquires an uncanny actuality: international conflicts and geopolitical challenges can affect modern Western societies – even liberal democratic Nordic societies – much more quickly than we might think (see Howell & Sundberg, 2015). Some episodes, however, provide a severe warning that democratic values and social cohesion are very fragile achievements, where particular figures such as the investigative journalist, police officer, or a vigilante is forced to play a decisive role in preserving or protecting those aforementioned liberal values and social order. In this way, television opens up various modes of interaction with geopolitical “as if” scenarios. Kenneth Burke (1966) has described such scenarios as “symbolic action” – that is, the ability of stories to test and eventually reconceptualise our social construction of reality. Fiction – even though it is informed by actual events, anxieties, and desires – offers a playful and tentative version of society and life that constantly invites audiences to feel empathy with fictional characters and imaginatively act out different situations. Books, films, and television shows that in some way or another deal with politics and international relations thus become affective geopolitical simulations – regardless of whether their fictional scenarios are likely or not.
Taking Saunders's article on geopolitical television (2019) as a point of departure provides a compelling entrée into the popular geopolitics of serial television. Building on Glynn and Cupples (2015), his intervention does three things that contribute to the ongoing conversations about popular (televisual) geopolitics.
First, the political economy of popular culture is brought to the fore by addressing profitability and marketability of genre. Serialised drama is not just big business but is also profitable. The Norwegian drama
Second, the contemporary media-entertainment landscape is co-produced by fans and viewers. Describing it as Television 3.0., Saunders makes the important point that earlier popular geopolitical analyses of film and the movie industry was rooted in an era where audiences watched the latest blockbuster either in cinemas or later via DVD. Popular geopolitics 3.0. is no longer tied to fixed viewing schedules, movie theatres, and material objects such as television screens. Screens are smaller, viewing is by demand, and material objects such as tablets and phones are mobile. Moreover, from social media platforms to Twitter to media sites such as the Internet Movie Database (IMDb), fans have unprecedented opportunities to comment on media shows. Producers are actively cultivating and archiving audience reactions, recognising that “fan data” is harvestable, and public commentary from “official” sources such as the Russian Embassy in Oslo is proverbial “gold-dust.”
Third, there are richer possibilities than ever before to think further about the vernacular qualities of popular geopolitics; in other words, the capacity of serial drama to produce embodied and intimate experiences of the geopolitical (on the concept of intimate geopolitics, see Brickell, 2014).
The dramas we have chosen to examine have not only explored explicitly geopolitical themes but have also been picked up by newspapers and magazines as agenda setting. In one case, a fictional drama caused a tangible political and diplomatic quarrel when the Russian Embassy in Oslo issued a concerned statement about the Norwegian television series [The drama] taps into contemporary geopolitical anxieties, figuring a slow-building clash between the skilful and subtle assertion of Russian power and the measured but inexperienced Norwegian government, which strives to maintain peaceful diplomatic relations as well as its own state sovereignty in the face of international isolation and escalating pressure.
Created by the best-selling Norwegian author, Jo Nesbø,
Striving for a more sustainable and greener world, Norway is “invaded” because it decides unilaterally to cease exporting natural gas and oil to the energy-thirsty European Union member states. The premise – however unlikely – touches upon two highly sensitive subjects; the geopolitical behaviour of contemporary Russia in a post-Crimea context, and the historical memory of occupation and collaboration in post conflicts. While Scandinavian countries such as Norway might not wish to reflect on collaboration with Nazi occupiers during World War II (and the show does not mention this collaboration via the Quisling government), Putin's Russia actively reflects on the role that it played by Soviet forces on the “Eastern Front”. The Russian Embassy's statement focused on both in its official statement:
Although the creators of the TV series were at pains to stress that the plot is fictitious and allegedly has nothing to do with reality, the film shows quite specific countries, and Russia, unfortunately, was given the role of an aggressor […]. It is certainly regretful that in the year when the 70th anniversary of the victory in the second world war is celebrated, the series’ creators decided to scare Norwegian viewers with a non-existing threat from the East in the worst Cold War traditions, as if they had forgotten about the Soviet Army's heroic contribution to liberation of Northern Norway from Nazi occupants.
The immediate point here is not to claim that
In his description of “geopolitical television”, Saunders (2019) usefully draws attention to the tropic qualities that make it possible. As the Norwegian fictional drama It is clear that this series plumbs a number of the country's deepest fears and churns up its darkest memories. […]
Our studies of
Creatively, our case studies complicate Saunders's geopolitical television typology. Genre provides a shorthand set of assumptions and conventions that producers can use to make a new program familiar to audiences and easier to produce. Genre often serves as baseline formulas for producers, creating a core set of assumptions and patterns that make the production of so many hours of original programming more efficient and streamlined.
All three dramas that revolve around veterans explore how the returning service personnel try to become a valuable part of civil society through their work for special police units or security outfits. The dramas, thereby, portray veterans as defenders of the Nordic way of life as defined by welfare provision, low levels of corruption, and crime. Lingering in these dramas is a sense in which the procedural and rule-based orders underpinning Nordic societies may no longer be adequate for the new geopolitical challenges of transnational terrorism and conflict. Through the leading protagonists, Danish and Norwegian dramas thereby show similarities to what John G. Cawelti (1975: 532) has described as the myth of the vigilante in American popular culture:
In this myth, the hero is typically reluctant to use violence. Only after it has become absolutely clear to him that that the legally constituted processes of society cannot bring about justice does he step in and take the law in his own hands. Sometimes the hero's family or friends become victims of an act of criminal violence which the law is unable to avenge. When it becomes evident that the police, the courts, and society in general cannot either protect the innocent or avenge acts of criminal violence, then the vigilante must himself become the law. Since he is only an individual (or a small group without legal authority), his only possible means of securing justice is counterviolence.
Richard Slotkin (1998), another scholar with an interest in the American frontier and the figure of the vigilante, reminds us that if myths endure, then it tells us something about enduring cultural anxieties and fears. All of the above Nordic serials, despite their aesthetic and narrative differences, envision a Scandinavia under threat – a Norden that is not immune to international conflicts and geopolitical questions. They address global challenges and the “blow-back” consequences of foreign policies, namely the involvement in American-led wars on terror, after so many years of quasi-neutrality (on the vigilante in American post-war terror movies, see Dodds & Kirby, 2014; McSweeney, 2018). It is worth bearing in mind that two Scandinavians assumed prominent positions in the post-9/11 security environment, with Anders Fogh Rasmussen (2009–2014, Denmark) and Jens Stoltenberg (2014–, Norway) being appointed secretary-generals of NATO.
The storylines of
What makes our three television serials pertinent is that the source of the “problem” is not the immigrant or illegal substances imported from elsewhere. The source of the geo-political lies with a different and rather surprising figure: the returning Nordic veteran. Through their common membership in NATO, both Norway and Denmark supported American-led operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. Denmark lost over 40 men in Afghanistan, and spent over USD 2 billion in the conflict against the Taleban. Danish political leaders argued that Danish forces were in Afghanistan in order to prevent the Taleban from striking Danish citizens in Copenhagen (Ringsmose & Børgesen, 2011). Norway was one of the first to join the US and UK in Afghanistan, and Norwegian troops were stationed there from 200–2014. Over 9,000 troops served there at some point, and 10 soldiers were killed in action. Norway spent over USD 2 billion on military and aid purposes. Both countries held official inquiries into their participation in Afghanistan, and television documentaries such as the Danish production,
The three seasons of
The character development of the series is important and emblematic of Nordic Noir, which works carefully to build the biography of lead figures and even dwell on those who are ultimately victims of violence and inequality. One common conceit is to juxtapose the plight of characters alongside the privilege and wealth of those living in Scandnavian societies. However, the Icelandic background of one of the lead characters (Hallgrim) acts as a staging ground for a nuanced examination of identity politics and personal choices. His biography provides an opportunity to reflect on how other places shape a person and their outlook on life. The serial narrative structure allows for that biographical richness to percolate through the narrative arc over time.
Although many episodes build on this personal biography, the third season, more than ever, plays at Halgrim's UN and military experience. The second case of the third season revolves around the theme of child abuse. A ring of paedophiles is using the UNICEF-sponsored aid and development organisation for child trafficking. The season finale, moreover, deals with an investigation of a massacre committed by Serbian soldiers against Muslim civilians during the Yugoslavian civil war. One of the alleged offenders is the former Belgrade head of police Bosco Markovich (Uwe Kockisch), who is now running a private business in Berlin. During the investigation in Berlin, Nazim is shot dead. Troubled by the loss of his colleague and friend, Hallgrim follows the villain and his helpers to Iceland for the season's finale.
Whereas
Besides
The long pretitle sequence of the first episode features a farewell letter, written by Louise's husband for delivery in the event of his death. The letter is read out as a voiceover sequence showing a cross-cutting montage of close-ups and medium shots of Louise with the letter, scenes at the actual funeral, and episodes from military missions in Afghanistan. The emotional sequence not only introduces the leading protagonists but also sets the tone by introducing the main dilemma of the drama: how can one reintegrate into civilian life after what has happened abroad. As CC puts it in his subsequent speech at the funeral while the coffin is carried by soldiers in their parade uniforms:
Eventually, war always wins. But Peter fought back! […] He got married and had a son. Louise and Max, they were the love of his life. And yet he gave ten years of his life to military service, genuinely believing he helped make the world a safer place for us all. That was the idealist Peter. He never feared the enemy out there. He loved it, because he knew that the real danger wasn’t out there, it was waiting for us at home: in the restlessness, in the feeling of being redundant, in the silence after the war.
The drama, accordingly, focuses less on Peter and his death as a casualty of war but on what happens to those who remain yet who are marred by their experiences and loss. Louise has to come to terms with her demanding job and being a single parent.
What is at stake for CC is redemption. As with American protagonist Bosch (a former Vietnam veteran) in the drama with the same name (Netflix, 2014–), policing is a way of bringing some kind of personal order back into his life. It also puts him into dangerous social-political situations where his military training remains invaluable. In the Danish case, we are asked as viewers to follow CC's immersion into undercover work as a way of helping him cope with having lost his friend Peter. The subsequent entanglement with biker gangs in Copenhagen acts as an imperfect proxy for his previous military experience. There is a new conflict for him to immerse himself, where the “rules of engagement” are opaque. He gains the trust of one of its leaders, but a perennial anxiety for both CC and Louise is that their mission will spiral out of control. The first series, running to six episodes, is clearly designed to continue further, but the returning veteran as a dramatic figure clearly provides plenty of opportunity to consider how “conflict” is to be found both at home and abroad.
The drama
Only a few weeks before its premiere on NRK, in June 2016, a commission chaired by former minister Bjørn Tore Godal published a first comprehensive evaluation of Norway's involvement in the ISAF Afghanistan operation. While positive about Norwegian participation, it found that the efforts fighting the Taleban were rather unsuccessful. Although it states that the Norwegian engagement “was demanding, with a high risk of deployed personnel and extensive use of resources, both civil and military” and that “Norwegian civilian and military personnel have, under difficult conditions, made a good effort”, it nevertheless argues that “Norway, all things considered, has not made a significant difference [translated]” (Government of Norway, 2016: 9). This disillusion and sense of exhaustion is certainly one of the main themes of
The television drama – with the subtitle “Peace at Any Cost” – revolves around the lives of Lieutenant Erling Riiser (Aksel Hennie), a member of Norwegian special forces in Afghanistan, and his wife Johanne (Tuva Novotny), who is the head of the Secretariat at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Trained to fight enemy armies, his unit is now challenged by asymmetrical warfare, nurturing doubts about the purpose of the entire operation. They have first-hand knowledge of how enemy combatants hide amongst local civilians, how alliances are fragile and cooperation with the enemy can be necessary, and they have learnt that the smallest of successes are often quickly overturned. The overall pace of the drama is – despite a number of combat scenes – rather slow; it takes some time for the story to reveal itself.
On one of his missions against a suicide bomber at a busy market and a nearby hospital, Riiser accidently rips off an Afghan women's headscarf. When the woman is violently abused by her husband Sharif Zamani (Atheer Adel), a rich landowner and opium smuggler in the Balkh Province with ties to the Taleban, she is brought to Norway for medical treatment as a political refugee. Yet, the resourceful husband reaches out to her in Norway during a secret visit. In a last-minute effort, Riiser prevents Sharif Zamani from killing his wife in Oslo by killing him. The Norwegian capital has now, through the actions of an estranged husband, become the site for conflict that has begun in Asia. The overarching question is who has used Erling to get rid of Zamani and how deep the military and political leadership is involved in the conspiracy.
The opening sequence set the tone for the storylines of the eight-part television serial. Even before the audience sees anything, a section from Barack Obama's Nobel lecture in 2009, the year he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, can be heard from the start: “Make no mistake: Evil does exist in the world. A non-violent movement could not have halted Hitler's armies. Negotiations cannot convince al Qaeda's leaders to lay down their arms”. What follows is a non-diegetic electro pop song “The Sea” by Norwegian artist ARY over images that rely heavily on motion graphics. The montage juxtaposes images from roadside bombs in Afghanistan tearing apart buildings alongside the painful disintegration of people. One picture shows a dissolving Norwegian flag followed by images of soldiers carrying a dead body in a carpet and a wide-angle shot of the Norwegian capital superimposed by an upside-down Afghan landscape. For Norwegians, their geopolitical world is shown to be chaotic and out of kilter.
The choice of the Obama quote corresponds closely with the main title
When discussing
When audiences are introduced to Johanne Riiser at a musical concert in Oslo, she has to solve a delicate situation: the Chinese Minister for Land and Resources, who is in Oslo to sign a very important economic agreement, wants to leave the venue with his delegation after having spotted a Chinese dissident among the guests. Eager to avoid a public scene, the situation brings to the fore the awkwardness of Chinese-Norwegian business and trade interests and their relationship to Norwegian concerns over the state of human rights in China. While the peace-keeping mission in Afghanistan is officially meant to bring political and economic stability to the region, one is left to wonder about the true motivation of the Norwegian government. Politicians, as Erling explains to the widow of a good friend who died on a foreign mission near the end of the second episode, understand little of the actual situation in the conflict zone: “The defence minister is not in Afghanistan. She's sending us to war without knowing what she's sending us to”. After a deadly incident later in the fourth episode, another major difference between the military and the political class becomes apparent: the soldiers prioritise their mission of fighting an often invisible enemy and follow protocol, while politicians seemingly think more about the press coverage at home and their own public relations.
The main driving force, however, as is slowly revealed throughout the eight episodes, is the struggle over natural resources – namely oil and gas. Norway is shown to be competing with China over drilling rights in Afghanistan, and the Zamani family owns the land over some of the most promising oil and gas fields. A theme that mirrors closely contemporary news reporting about China investing in the development of Afghanistan's mineral wealth, including oil, gas, and copper. Norway's role has been more advisory and working to support the Ministry of Mines in Kabul. It has provided professional advice to the Afghan government regarding the commercialisation of oil and gas reserves as well as on an international bidding process. All of which provoked anger from some American sources that US-military forces were helping others, including China, to exploit this emerging energy market and “free-ride” on the back of NATO intervention (Downs, 2012).
Throughout the first three episodes, the role of “development aid” is slowly problematised. During a visit of the foreign minister in episode four, the real agenda informing the secret negotiations with the Zamani family and local Taleban aide Mullah Ahmed (Mohammad-Ali Behboudi) is revealed. Without the knowledge of the public and other ministries, the Norwegian Foreign Minister wants to sign a deal for oil and natural gas production to provide Afghanistan with energy. The ramifications are far-reaching. Because of security concerns, the public and even parts of the government are left in the dark as to who is present when and where. This deprives many advisors, among them Johanne, of offering their much-needed help and expertise to test some of the financially driven decisions. The more the events spiral into a tragic drama, the more one wonders if security concerns and profitable business deals justify shying away from the Scandinavian model of an open democracy and consensus-based politics.
While Norway is competing with China, which has offered a very similar deal, the situation gets yet more complicated when Mullah asks for money to secure the Taleban cooperation – a dilemma, since payment would count as supporting terrorism. While this seems unacceptable, the more the season progresses, the more it becomes apparent that peace without negotiating with the Taleban is a chimaera. An American government official explains to the Norwegian foreign minister privately near the end of episode five:
I know you can’t confirm this, but I know for a fact that you are holding negotiations with the Taleban in Afghanistan. […] Now it looks like we might have to do the same thing: bite the bullet, talk to them. The Taleban are not going away, and there is no future for Afghanistan without negotiations with them. So we are going to open up a back channel.
The problem about such fragile alliances is trust. The “Fruit for Life” initiative – which is run by Hektor Stolt-Hansen (Mattis Herman Nyquist) who is the offspring of a very rich and influential Norwegian family and has an affair with Johanne Riiser – is used to smuggle opium instead of delivering apples because the vans are under the protection of the Norwegian NATO troops as is revealed in episode six. Some of the problems in Afghanistan, as can be inferred, have their origins in Europe and East Asia. Peace is prevented because too many people benefit from the current struggles and try to bring themselves into position for the time after the military operation – this includes governments as well as corporations and individuals. While China and Norway are competing over drilling rights on the Zamani estate, it is a resourceful and wealthy elite that is operating beyond national boundaries to increase their wealth and power. Besides Sharif Zamani, the Stolt-Hansens are an example of this – it is they who pull the strings alongside governments. Hektor Stolt-Hansen, indeed, is playing both sides and finally works for the highest bidder, regardless of the bidder's intentions or agenda. Hektor acts for himself and his family and respects neither laws nor morals.
In the final episode, it seems as if peace and a treaty for the drilling of natural resources is possible after all. Following a brief meeting during which Rolf Inherad admits that he has sent Erling a text message so that he might kill Sharif Zamani (“It felt like a betrayal of everything we stand for. This agreement is a way out of poverty for the North Province. Should I let it fail because of one guy? Hell no!”), the Norwegian Foreign Ministry has finally brought all parties together in a hotel in Afghanistan. Besides Erling and Johanne, Rolf Inherad, the Norwegian minister of foreign affairs, the head of the Zamani family, and the energy minister of the official Afghan government, the meeting is also attended by Taleban leader Mullah Ahmad. Although the attendance of the Taleban creates tension among the other participants, the contract is eventually signed. All hopes for peace, however, are shattered when a bomb attack kills the Norwegian foreign minister and the Afghan energy minister and injures many others. A close-up shows the contract covered in blood and debris. Erling saves his badly injured wife in a slow-motion sequence. After contradictory political developments and conspiracies, it is but their relationship that seems to matter. While they travel back to Oslo and seem to have put their problems aside, the final scene shows developments five months after the bomb attack: Hektor Stolt-Hansen, a Chinese delegation, and the representatives of the Zamani family sign an Afghan-Chinese deal. Have the Chinese or Hektor ordered the attack on the hotel summit? Considering the various ramifications, the Canadian What's captivating about the series is the low-key incisiveness. The story doesn’t build hyperdramatically, even as it has tense action sequences. It moves slowly, giving space to conversations and thought. What the drama is thinking about is the small difference between the extremism in Afghanistan and the extreme capitalism that drives countries and corporations to take advantage of the earth itself. In the end, it's clear that Erling, good soldier that he is, becomes a pawn in a game about oil and money.
Long after the topos of the veteran as one of the dominant figures of American film after the Vietnam War, Danish and particularly Norwegian audiovisual culture focuses on the transgressive nature of security personnel, as well as how veterans suffer under the influence of post-traumatic stress disorder. In comparison to other protagonists in Scandinavian drama such as Brigitte Nyborg (Sidse Babett Knudsen) in
Contemporary Scandinavian dramas, thereby, outline a new generation of ex-servicemen and servicewomen that become a cipher for the state of the domestic society and state. Although they more often than not act as outsiders, their presence helps to problematise the vulnerability of the state of the Nordic nations. Because they have been alienated from the social mores of civil society, they can follow their own codes of conduct to defend the very society they find it increasingly hard to belong to. The veterans offer up possibilities for protagonists as well as audiences to ask where, how, and why the social democratic qualities of their societies have changed.
While these feelings of discomfort and dislocation have been lingering for some time, they have taken on an added urgency through the intervention of the returning veteran. Audiences are asked to consider the uncomfortable fact that “conflict” has always been a part of Nordic societies. Beyond the Scandinavian context, moreover, there are many dramas now from other countries that feature veterans in leading roles – including Israeli shows on Netflix such as
The geopolitics of Nordic Noir deserves further attention. In our case studies, we used the figure of the returning veteran to explore how the television serial is productive of popular or vernacular geopolitics. While the vigilante has been a popular figure in Hollywood cinema and television series for decades, it is less well established in Nordic popular culture. The returning veteran motif (one that will be recognisable to international audiences familiar with returning Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan veterans in particular) helps to interrogate Nordic societal conflicts and tensions, and poses the question of whether the Nordic model can be rehabilitated for the sake of preserving their respective countries.