Official visit to the US: Luther College

President Chamberlain,
members of the Board of Regents,
faculty, students, alumni,
distinguished guests, dear friends,

First, let me say how deeply honored I am to receive this recognition. To be granted an honorary doctorate from Luther College is not just a privilege — it’s a moment that I will treasure. Now, I should confess: my father received his honorary doctorate at the early age of 28. So, yes, it took me a little longer. But as I stand before you today, I like to think I’ve eventually caught up.

I would to thank you for the very warm welcome that I have received here at Luther College — outside with all the students, the faculty and all the people. And of course also with the music — with the brass outside, with this orchestra with the choir. With a very high level, I must say. What a gift to listen to all of you. Thank you.

Today, I want to talk about the stories that bind us together —the story of Norway and the United States. What is it that connects our nations? What ties our people together across oceans? I believe it’s the stories that we share, that we tell ourselves and that we tell each other. Stories of courage and curiosity. Stories of hardship and hope. Stories that remind us who we are — and who we aspire to be.

Let me start with one of those stories. It begins, as so many good stories do, with a man in leather clothes, long hair, and a helmet — actually without horns. Because, as you know, the Vikings didn’t wear horns. You can see some horns around campus. They are everywhere, but they didn't actually use them. Maybe some of you have seen the series Vikings: Valhalla.

You might remember this character Leif Erikson — a bold, thoughtful explorer. Now, the show does take some liberties, but don't look to it for historical facts. But the true story is just as
inspirational and interesting.

As you know, Erikson is believed to be the first European to set foot on the American continent over a thousand years ago.

I should note here that our understanding of the Viking age continues to be shaped by the saga literature, which was often written down a couple of hundred years after the fact and formed as stories that would grip the reader. So maybe not the best source for accuracy. But we have found remains of Norse settlements in Newfoundland in Canada so the Norse were there around this time.

In any case, the settlers soon came into contact with indigenous Americans who had already lived in the area for more than 20 000 years. Sources suggest that there was trade between them, but they also indicate that there were episodes of conflict and violence. Probably a bit of both.

(Picture)
This is Christian Krohg’s depiction of when Leif Erikson sees land. Vinland.

Now, let’s be clear: To claim Eriksson as “Norwegian” is not entirely correct. Probably born in Iceland, raised in Greenland, son of a Norwegian father and an Icelandic mother — he was Norse. And his journey to Vinland didn’t change history the way Columbus’s voyage did 500 years later. The Norse settlements didn’t last more than a few years. But the story did. It endured in the sagas. It echoes through time.

And in three days, this country will celebrate Leif Erikson Day.

Why? Because his voyage said something about us. It said we were a people willing to sail into unknown territory. To risk the storms for the promise of something better. That spirit — the courage to cross an ocean — would resurface centuries later.

Fast forward 800 years. A young woman named Martha Jørgensdotter is born on a small island in Norway. Life is hard. Her family is poor. When her father dies, they lose their farm. But Martha dreams of something more. She meets a Quaker named Lars Larsen Geilane.

They share a vision — a life of freedom, a life of opportunity. And so, in 1825, they board a tiny sloop called Restauration.

Fifty-two souls on a boat that wasn't bigger than it could not really fit sixteen. Martha is also pregnant when she goes on board. After a 98 day journey through several storms in the Atlantic ocean, the small vessel finally arrives in New York on the 9th of October. And when they step ashore, they are fifty-three. Martha’s child is born on the journey — a promise of a new life. It was considered a miracle that everyone had survived.

That voyage marked the beginning of something extraordinary. Over the next century, more than 800,000 Norwegians would follow.

One in three left their homeland. They came for land. For liberty. For a chance to live their faith. And when they arrived, they built communities — right here in Iowa, and across the Midwest. They built churches and schools. They built lives. And they built a bridge between our nations that still stands today.

That bridge held firm in our darkest hour. On April 9, 1940. My family fled as the Nazi forces marched into Oslo.

My great-grandfather, King Haakon, and my grandfather, Crown Prince Olav, moved to London with the exile government. My grandmother, Crown Princess Martha, fled to Stockholm with my father, and his sisters.

But Sweden wasn’t considered safe enough. So they continued north through Finland and boarded SS American Legion that was sent by president Franklin D. Roosevelt. At the invitation of the President, they found a safe home in the United States. They moved to Pooks Hill just outside Washington D.C.

In those years, America was not just an ally. It was a lifeline. And for that, Norway will always be grateful.

(Pictures of Eleanor, Sara and, Franklin D. Rosevelt, Presidents dog Fallah and at the Potomac river outside DC)

Half a century later, I came here myself — not as a refugee, but as a student. After serving in the Navy, I wanted to learn more about the world. And like so many before me, I looked to America. Because this country has always believed in the power of knowledge, building some of the best learning environments in the world. Luther College is part of that proud tradition. It was an easy choice.

My years at Berkeley were a time of freedom — intellectual and personal. I learned from impressive professors, and they were impressive. But I learned just as much from my fellow students — people from every corner of the globe, with every kind of perspective. We didn’t always agree. But we listened. We argued. We learned. That is the essence of a free society: the courage to exchange ideas without fear.

Universities have an absolutely critical role to play as sites for free exchange of ideas. Independent teaching and research is at the heart of a free society.

And so, to the students here today: cherish that freedom. Seek out those that are different from you. Be curious. Be generous. Because that is how we grow.

When I had finished my studies at Berkeley, I made an official trip to 11 states to visit Norwegian-American communities.

This was one of those places. Another was Sioux Falls in South Dakota. I forget what the exact event was, but I remember that there were two short prayers before we started.

The first was given by a local priest, and the second by Tribal chairman Webster Two Hawk. I’m paraphrasing, but it went something like this:

May the wind blow to strengthen your mind.
May the sun always shine on your back.
May the path you walk be smooth.
May you find the strength to fight your inner enemies.
May your life be in balance.

There was something soothing about his words. They seemed universal and deeply human, like they could apply to people anywhere, at any time. Still, it felt like he was talking directly to me.

Dear friends,

Thank you again for the honorary doctorate. I will carry it as a symbol of the close friendship between the United States and Norway.

Thank you for keeping alive the stories that bind us together — across oceans, across generations, across time.

Thank you for your attention and may your life be in balance.