In the autumn of 2007, Kulturen, southern Sweden’s biggest museum, enticed local residents to visit its exhibit “A History of Sex.” Andres Serrano’s photos provoked Swedes there to such an extent that several of the more extreme ones went on the attack and vandalised a few of the works using sharp instruments. This is obviously indefensible, regardless of what one thinks of Serrano’s images of women sucking horse penises, urine sex and fist fucking. A few days after the violent attack on these works of art, a panel consisting of the cultural journalist Ingrid Elam, clergywoman Lena Sjöstrand and art gallery director Sune Nordgren held a discussion on Serrano and his artistic work.

What is it about Serrano’s images that elicits such strong reactions? There ensued a rather shallow discussion about the importance of questioning norms and challenging taboos and, as expected, the view was put forth that art not only should, but must, provoke. I share the view that one of the purposes of art is to stretch boundaries, yet I cannot help but contemplate this idea by challenging the very norms that Serrano highlights in the images in question (horse penises?). A woman in the audience admitted that she was deeply moved by Serrano’s photos. They made her think about what “is considered normal” and how we “construct our society.”

I myself felt rather depressed by then. Depressed, because I have heard the same discussion too many times. In a certain kind of context, there is an almost manic impugning of what is “normal” and norms, all norms, without distinguishing between them. A relevant example is the argument advanced by the journalist Ulrika Lorentzi in her book Något bara kvinnor kan [‘Something Only Women Can’]. The text on the back cover promises that the author challenges the norms surrounding pregnancy and childbirth. Lorentzi’s self-evident assumption then is that every norm surrounding pregnancy should be questioned because her rather shallow view of what a norm seems to be that a norm is something that restrains and oppresses people. Isn’t that a pretty stupid assumption? Isn’t the norm, for instance, that parents should take care of their children a pretty good norm? That they have a home and food and clothing for baby when she enters this world? Or the norm that men should also take responsibility for a pregnancy?

If there is anything that is really taboo today, it is talking about “normality” and what is “normal. At the same time, we are obviously just as preoccupied today with defining what is normal as we have ever been. Is there anyone who has not wondered whether they were normal, whether it was normal to feel this way? Look like this? Do it this way? The question of one’s own normality, I would argue, is an existential question, and is accordingly a critical one. As we know, people are fairly self-absorbed creatures, afraid of not fitting in and almost equally afraid of being “like everybody else.” I cannot help but think of the Swedish comic strip Arne Anka [‘Arne Duck’] and the only time he visits a therapist. He is first convinced that he is a uniquely disturbed person, and then is deeply disappointed that the therapist dismisses him as totally normal – “if I’m normal, then what the hell is abnormal?” he exclaims indignantly as he leaves the reception area.

So there is a certain tension here, between normal and abnormal, between ordinary and unique; nor is it clear which alternative is more attractive, at least not to Arne Duck. He really is a fairly average duck in the Swedish pond – one of those ducks who sooner or later moves in with a woman into a 2-bedroom apartment in the suburbs, has little ducklings and makes a living as an underground train driver/ freelance journalist and leads a life that is harmless and completely normal in every way. That is because Arne belongs to a large group of ducks/people who can choose, who can flirt with the abnormal, live a bit on the edge, but never really seriously fall into the risk zone of winding up outside what could be called normality.

For anyone standing outside looking in, for anyone who tries but sometimes stumbles, the repudiation of normality and what is normal is incomprehensible. For anyone who cannot afford to choose, it is difficult to understand why a concept like “normal” has wound up with such a bad reputation. In fact, not everyone is as fortunate as this duck Arne and his brothers and sisters. For some, a normal life seems like an unattainable dream. Addicts, the homeless, lunatics.

For many people, a normal life, an ordinary life – a boring nuclear family in a boring suburb and a boring job to go to every single grey day – is as remote as a Nobel Prize in Literature or the lead in a Hollywood production. Is it interesting then to talk about what is normal and abnormal? Perhaps it was would be easier for lunatics to be lunatics if they were not also considered abnormal? Isn’t it perhaps downright detrimental to try to define what is normal – and who can really assume that right? Isn’t it rather presumptuous? The fear of discussing what is normal is no doubt linked to that word’s association with the word “norm.” There is serious confusion about this in many places. Let me illustrate this with an indignant voice from the newspaper Sydsvenskan.

Maria G Francke, the entertainment editor, wrote an incensed TV column in the spring of 2008 triggered by a  popular reality series about the ninth-year class 9A at  Johannes School in Malmö, Sweden: “In the dining hall at Johannes School in Malmö, there are three signs: ‘pork-free’, ‘vegetarian’ and ‘normal food’. Taste it. And realise that this is where one of the problems must lie. If you divide pupils up into normal and other just in the dining hall – then how else will it be in the classroom?”. Francke makes the embarrassing mistake here of confusing pupils with the food they eat – after all, it is not the pupils but the food that is “vegetarian” or “normal.” Moreover, what is worse, she fails to see that “normal food” is not an evaluative but a descriptive term. “Normal food” means nothing more and nothing less than the food that most children at Johannes School eat. It does not mean that the food served under the sign “normal food” is preferable, that it is the food the school administration thinks pupils should eat or that the food is better, healthier and more ethical than, for instance, pork-free food. 

The word “normal” is often used in exactly the same way: as a description of reality. “Normally,” that is what most people do. Eat meatballs, potatoes and gravy. Sleep at night. Live with someone of the opposite sex. Eat cute little chickens but not cute little puppies. “Normally” is thus used as a synonym for “usually”. What is usual and therefore normal can sometimes be rather contextual and restricted to narrow groups. What is normal can sometimes be what my family and I do – wash the windows every six weeks whether they need it or not – or what my friends and I think.

Sometimes what is natural is considered what is normal: it is natural for a woman to want children and therefore normal. It is natural to go to sleep without sleeping pills and therefore normal. Researchers have shown that seagulls are lesbian; therefore it is natural and normal that people too are lesbian (so should lesbians eat herring and seagulls get help with artificial insemination)? When natural pops up in connection with normal, it is generally wise to be wary. People who claim that natural is connected to normal are most likely aiming for norms, arguing something about how life should be lived and how people should behave. A norm can be described as a rule that dictates what is right and what is wrong. Norms are associated with values, and not with what is natural or normal. Because norms are associated with values, they cannot be verified or falsified; a norm is thus neither true nor false in any empirical sense. 

It is difficult to show that it is right to tell the truth and wrong to lie. However, it is quite possible to claim that truth has a high value, perhaps even an eternal value, an independent value. It is just as difficult to prove that it is right to tell the truth as it is to argue that what is normal should be normative, and thus compulsory, that what most people do and choose should be ascribed to everyone.

On the other hand, I am doubtful as to whether this is really how we think about what is normal – we do not really think that it is normal to tell the truth and abnormal to hit one’s children, do we? When we discuss moral issues, we use other terms. It is reprehensible, wrong, immoral or cruel to hit one’s children, but do we really think that it is abnormal? Driving too fast in a residential area, stealing or necking with the boss is not considered abnormal either, even though all these kinds of behaviour probably break one norm or another. My point is that the relation between normal and norm is not self-evident, that it is more than simply etymological. As everyone knows, one has to be careful about deducing “should” from “is” – just because something is a certain way, it does not at all mean that it should be that way.

That is, just because most people live in a nuclear family with someone of the opposite sex, it does not mean that it should be this way. Thus, the choices that most people make are not normative for everyone. On the other hand, nor is there any reason to disdain the choice of the majority. Choosing the same thing as everyone else, what is ordinary, normal, can in fact be an independent and free choice. For some people, it can also be a difficult choice, something that requires daily struggle, but is worth that fight: normality. Being like everyone else. Disappearing in the crowd, the masses. It is also liberating. Normality is a beautiful word for anyone who wants to wake up in the morning filled with a sense of calm. 

Some people have raised their swords and their voices in defence of abnormality and madness. I would like to argue that the Swedish intellectual debate has been heavily influenced by them, perhaps too heavily. In The History of Madness, Michel Foucault maintains that people who are reasonable, normal, need people who are mad. Reasonable needs unreasonable for its own definition. Society needs diagnoses to define what is normal and desirable. Through diagnoses, deviants – those who undermine order, those who break the norms – are neutralised. These disturbing elements must be isolated, controlled and normalised.

According to Foucault, there is madness in each and every one of us. The difference between deviant and normal, he writes, is “only illusory and socially constructed.” What is “normal” and what is “deviant” behaviour, in Foucault’s view, has changed over time. Certainly, that all sounds nice and rather tolerant. All that about everyone really being just as mad, or just as normal, as everyone else depending on how one looks at it. And tolerance is, of course, good. As is diversity. It is good that we are different. Indeed. But it is always a question of being different in the right way. Different in a “Forrest Gump” way or an “Amelie from Montmartre” way. Different in a nonetheless rather controlled and charming way. Not in a rowdy, urine-stinking way. Not in a deathly pale, hollowed-eye way. In an ugly, disgusting way. In a frightening way. (Even Betty Blue was a little over the top to be charming, at least toward the end of the film.) That is disturbing. Perhaps Foucault has a point there.

Jacques Lacan believes, somewhat in the spirit of Foucault, that there are no normal people. In his view, all people belong to one of the following three categories – they are mad, neurotic or perverted. Both Rousseau and Churchill would fall into the “mad” category: Lacan is one of the people who have always noted the benefits of madness. According to Lacan, there are brilliant madmen who have managed quite nicely in life. It is not despite their psychoses that politicians, mathematicians, artists or writers are creative but rather because of them. Lacan defines a mad person as someone who gives expression to a disorder in their use of language. They produce neologisms, create words that do not exist, that are incompatible with general language use.

Or they use words in a sense that differs from conventional use. Obviously, there are numerous signs of madness, but Lacan’s definition is indeed rather interesting. (When applied to Swedish politicians, however, I find only one person who, with some hesitation, qualifies as mad; that is Maud Olofsson. Admit it – her use of the beaver metaphor a few years ago was somewhat unconventional – but at the same time very creative. And of course politics would be much more fun with more of these creative uses of words and expressions.) Nonetheless, a critical difference between Lacan and Foucault is that Lacan does not claim that madness (or neurosis or perversion) is simply a construction. Another not insignificant difference is that Lacan does not speak of people who are normal and then others (that is, those who are insane/mad). According to Lacan, there are no normal people. Neurotic people are more socially accepted than mad or perverted people, but normal, no, they cannot boast of being that.

I think, like Lacan, that a certain amount of what he calls madness is an advantage. His definition of madness, after all, is not particularly frightening: that kind of madness would probably be useful to most writers, artists, scholars and other creative people. At the same time, we have to be careful about romanticising it. It is too easy to argue that “there are no normal people,” as Lacan does. It is just as temptingly easy to claim that “there is madness in each and everyone of us,” as Foucault does. This sort of claim may seem tolerant and broad-minded, understanding and inclusive, but at the same time it absolves people of responsibility.

People who live outside the boundaries of what is normal, not through their own choice, but because of mental illness or addiction, need help to return to a normal life. In this context, a normal life means nothing more and nothing less than a functioning life, an orderly life. A life with a home, stable human relations, financial security and some form of meaningful employment. These very components are some of our basic human needs, and could perhaps be included in some form of normality. A person’s normal state should, after all, be a state in which they manage to function as a human, on a rather basic level, nothing more nor less. 

There are, of course, both good and bad conceptions of what is normal just as there are good and bad norms. Some norms really are oppressive. Some norms prevent people from being free and happy and living the life they intended to live. At the same time, there are all kinds of good norms, norms that help people lead good lives, norms that prevent people from making destructive choices and bad decisions.

Obviously, both the word normality and various norms need to be discussed, reconsidered from various angles and challenged, but it is important to remember that norms are something basic in human life and human society. Every person carries a moral identity that consists of norms, principles and values that they have made their own. An individual’s moral identity guides them in decisions both large and small, helps them to navigate among the often difficult problems associated with being human. Each human society also requires norms; we have to quite simply reach an agreement on how we should treat each other in our group. Life becomes so much easier when a person know what is involved – and it is not until they know this that they can choose to abide by the agreement or break it. That provides a certain amount of security.

I n my book Jag vill inte dö, jag vill bara inte leva [‘I Don’t Want to Die, I Just Want to Not Live’], I describe what it is like to live as a person who is bipolar or, as it was once called, manic-depressive. This diagnosis probably qualifies me as abnormal, perhaps even mad, in some people’s eyes. With the book attracting attention in a variety of newspapers, a number of people with more or less the same diagnosis – different types of bipolar and affective illnesses – have gotten in touch with me. With a few exceptions, these people have prestigious jobs, are high achievers and creative individuals.

I have had conversations with some of them about normality, about the stigma that surrounds mental illnesses. Would it be easier if it was considered “normal” to sometimes enter a manic state? To be thrown into an abyss of anxiety? To feel an almost uncontrollable desire to run away from it all? Sometimes normality and a desire to be part of what is normal, despite everything, are in fact what save  people. It most likely would not have been easier to be mad if it were considered normal. I think it would have been worse, harder to keep a grasp on reality and everyday existence. So I think it is important to defend normality and keep the door open to a normal life for all those people who for various reasons sometimes have a hard time with whatever that is. What is ordinary. Normal. The dream of fitting in. Being like everyone else. One duck among other ducks in the Swedish pond.