Operation Nobel

Obama arrives to claim his prize

It was raining, some will say fittingly, as Barack Obama arrived in Oslo this morning to receive his much-remarked-on Nobel Prize. So bad was the weather, in fact, that Obama was forced to make the trip from the airport to the downtown Nobel Peace Institute in convoy, the usually busy E6 motorway out of town being closed to allow smooth passage.

The Norwegians are used to awful weather, of course, but they aren't used to all this: the helicopters circling overhead, the roads blocked to regular traffic, the probing pat-down of security checks as they make their way around town. Their country has, on the whole, resisted the arrival of Starbucks and other trappings of American culture (Marshall aid excepted, perhaps) -- much more so than the UK, say.

Today, though, they are getting a real taste of America. "Ninety-two million Kroner extra", announced Dagsavisen recently about security arrangements for Obama's visit, only for the figure to be revised upwards by several million kroner a week later. That's the sort of money that would normally go into municipal works, such as district heating, in this part of the world. But today the Christmas market in the large open plaza that abuts the harbour has been closed (it was a security threat), a whole section of town has been cordoned off, and there are more police about than the country even knew it had. The daily Dagbladet has labelled all the fuss "Operation Nobel".

For this, and other reasons, the decision to give this award to the president of the United States of America in just his first year in office is no more universally popular in Norway than it has been around the world. In the lead-up to his visit, some have grumbled about how Obama has cut down on the number of activities the winner is usually expected to undertake. And more than a few have questioned the extra fuss being made about him. But this is what happens when a standing president wins. The Norwegians really have only themselves to thank.

Yet today, their problem is also Obama's problem, for what happens when a Peace Prize-winner announces a troop surge to a war zone, as Obama has done in Afghanistan, is yet to be established. The president was apparently working on that particular aspect of his speech on the flight over from Washington.

On arriving in Norway, Obama made the Nobel Prize Institute his first stop. There, he didn't just sign the book, he practically wrote an essay in it. I would hazard there was more than a penny for those particular thoughts. Left-handed Obama then handed over to right-handed Michelle as she, too, signed the book and he stood back, joking politely with Nobel Committee members.

For a minute, as he looked down, he appeared distinctly proud. But when he turned to the committee -- and perhaps an indication of the tone of the speech to come this afternoon -- he deflected attention from himself. It was their work promoting the cause of peace that he thanked them for.

Then it was off again, to Oslo's regjeringens kvartaler -- the government district -- where he was to meet the Norwegian prime minister, Jens Stoltenberg. Later (around 2pm UK time) Obama will formally receive his prize and give his acceptance speech. Perhaps the weather will have cleared by then.

 

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Would the BBC's Nazi drama SS-GB have felt half so resonant a year ago?

This alternate history is freighted with meaning now we're facing the wurst-case scenario. 

Would SS-GB have felt half so resonant a year ago? Though the clever-after-the-fact Nostradamus types out there might disagree, I can’t believe that it would. When it comes to the Second World War, after all, the present has helpfully stepped in where memory is just beginning to leave off. The EU, in the process of fragmenting, is now more than ever powerless to act in the matter of rogue states, even among its own membership. In case you hadn’t noticed, Hungary, for instance, is already operating as a kind of proto-fascist state, led by Viktor Orbán, a man whom Jean-Claude Juncker, the president of the European Commission, jokingly likes to call “the dictator” – and where it goes, doubtless others will soon follow.

The series (Sundays, 9pm), adapted from Len Deighton’s novel, is set in 1941 in a Britain under Nazi occupation; Winston Churchill has been executed and the resistance is struggling to hold on to its last strongholds in the countryside. Sam Riley plays Douglas Archer, a detective at Scotland Yard, now under the control of the SS, and a character who appears in almost every scene. Riley has, for an actor, a somewhat unexpressive face, beautiful but unreadable. Here, however, his downturned mouth and impassive cheekbones are perfect: Archer, after all, operates (by which I mean, barely operates) in a world in which no one wants to give their true feelings away, whether to their landlady, their lover, or their boss, newly arrived from Himmler’s office and as Protestant as all hell (he hasn’t used the word “degenerate” yet, but he will, he will).

Archer is, of course, an ambiguous figure, neither (at present) a member of the resistance nor (we gather) a fully committed collaborator. He is – or so he tells himself – merely doing his job, biding his time until those braver or more foolhardy do something to restore the old order. Widowed, he has a small boy to bring up. Yet how long he can inhabit this dubious middle ground remains to be seen. Oskar Huth (Lars Eidinger), the new boss, is keen to finish off the resistance; the resistance, in turn, is determined to persuade Archer to join its cause.

It’s hard to find fault with the series; for the next month, I am going to look forward to Sunday nights mightily. I would, I suppose, have hoped for a slightly more charismatic actress than Kate Bosworth to play Barbara Barga, the American journalist who may or may not be involved with the British resistance. But everything else seems pretty perfect to me. London looks suitably dirty and its inhabitants’ meals suitably exiguous. Happiness is an extra egg for tea, smoking is practically a profession, and
the likes of Archer wear thick, white vests.

Swastikas adorn everything from the Palace of Westminster to Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace is half ruined, a memorial to what the Germans regard as Churchill’s folly, and the CGI is good enough for the sight of all these things to induce your heart to ache briefly. Nazi brutality is depicted here as almost quotidian – and doubtless it once was to some. Huth’s determination to have four new telephone lines installed in his office within the hour is at one end of this horrible ordinariness. At the other is the box in which Archer’s mutinous secretary Sylvia (Maeve Dermody) furiously stubs out her fag, full to the brim with yellow stars.

When I first heard about The Kettering Incident (Tuesdays, 12.20am; repeated Wednesdays, 10pm) I thought someone must have found out about that thing that happened one time I was driving north on the M1 with a more-than-usually terrible hangover. Turns out it’s a new Australian drama, which comes to us on Sky Atlantic. Anna (Elizabeth Debicki), a doctor working in London, pitches up back in Tasmania many years after her teenage friend Gillian disappeared into its Kettering forest, having seen a load of mysterious bright lights. Was Gillian abducted by aliens or was she, as some local people believe, murdered by Anna? To be honest, she could be working as a roadie for Kylie, for all I care. This ponderous, derivative show is what happens when a writer sacrifices character on the altar of plot. The more the plot thickens, the more jaw-achingly tedious it becomes.

Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit