Just a Word

By Camilla Sandman

It’s sometimes tempting to believe in ghosts. Not just for the promise of continued existence. It would mean dearly departed were not so departed from us, but would linger on, watching over us, loving us.

Not all ghosts would be dearly departed, of course. Some would not linger, but rather haunt us, their legacy more than just words.

There is a word in the English dictionary. Quisling. To most it would seem merely a word – a word for traitor, a betrayer. But the word was once a name. Vidkun Quisling. A Norwegian. A husband. A political leader. A son. A traitor.

A ghost.

He was executed in October 1945, one of the last men to be so in Norway. The death penalty has since been abolished. He was among the last, as he was the first – to so boldly sell Norway out to its enemies.

But that is the end of the story, not the beginning. The beginning seemed harmless enough, hardly the telltale signs of evil.

Vidkun Quisling was born in Fyresdal in 1887, the son of a priest. As a young man he served in the army, and even helped Norwegian national hero and artic explorer Fridtjof Nansen with relief work in Russia. Indeed, he was said to have much sympathy for the Russian regime to start with. A sympathy he would later transfer – onto Germany.

He quickly rose in rank. Perhaps even then he had ambitions to become a leader – a Fuhrer for Norway. From 1931 to 1933 he served as Defence Minister in the Norwegian government, then quit to form his own fascist party, the National Union. It polled badly in the following elections, and Quisling’s dream would seem broken.

But in Germany Hitler ruled, and there Quisling went in 1939. He met with the Fuhrer himself, and as a famous urban legend would have it, the exchange went something like this:

‘And you are?’

‘Quisling, mein Fuhrer.’

‘Yes, but what is your name?’

The Fuhrer and the wannabe-Fuhrer met twice, and it is said Quisling urged Hitler to occupy Norway. History does not tell us what might have happened had those meetings not taken place.

It does however tell us that on April 9^th 1940, German warships steered into Norwegian ports. That very morning Quisling marched up to the National radio, took over a studio and proclaimed himself new Prime Minister of Norway. He urged the Norwegian people to welcome the Germans, who had most kindly come to protect us from those vicious English.

Vidkun Quisling must have thought his dream had come true that day. He was Fuhrer, but of a most unwilling people. Indeed, the Germans thought him mostly a nuisance during the occupation years, for so badly was he regarded by the Norwegian people.

And so, his name became a curse. An insult. A traitor.

For five years he was hated. But with peace came reckoning. Quisling was put on trial. His defence was patriotism. By his side was his wife Marie. Accusing him was almost the entire Norwegian people. Against such a potent a prosecutor there could be only one verdict.

In September 1945 he was found guilty of treason. His appeals failed. On October 24^th 1945, before the sun would rise to greet a cold autumn day, shots rang through the old Akershus fortress.

To the very end, he believed in his patriotism. A Bible was fund in his cell, a sentence underlined. ‘He shall redeem their soul from defeat and violence and precious shall their blood be in His sight.’

Some people are willing to die for what they believe in. When history deems their belief right, they get streets named after them. When history deems them wrong, their names become the very essence of villainy.

And so, Vidkun Quisling’s legacy is easily found. It’s just a word in a dictionary.

Just a word.