Jacob Christensen

For whatever reasons Krzysztof Dobrzański tagged me in a "10 facts about you"-game on Flickr.

Okay – you asked for it:

1. The midwife who delivered me was a granddaughter of the painter Paul Gauguin.
2. It takes four persons to get from me to Scarlett Johansson.
3. But it only takes three to get to George W. Bush.
4. I got a 13 (that’s an A+ or A with distinction) in both French and Mathematics at my STX. Haven’t spoken much French or done much calculus since.
5. I’m left-handed.
6. I generally confuse left and right. Tricky when somebody asks me to guide them.
7. I have once been asked for directions by a Frenchman in Paris.
8. I worked in Sweden for ten years and lived there for nine and a half years.
9. I’m a night-owl. Generally, you should not try any kind of intelligent contact with me before 10 am. At the very earliest.
10. I have used the sudo command on Linux. After carefully following the instructions.

Back in the old days (as in: the 1960s), it was easy to explain the legislative process in Denmark: The government sets up a commission of politicians, bureaucrats and one or the other expert, it publishes a report recommending smaller or larger reforms and finally the report’s recommendations are passed unchanged by parliament. In this way, the real question was: Why and when do governments set up commissions.

There were exceptions to the rule. Much legislation had a routine character, some followed from political negotiations and then there was the labour market where commissions did not include politicians – at least not when the serious business began. The labour market, all agreed, was a matter for the trade unions and the employers’ association. So whatever those parties agreed on, parliament faithfully accepted.

From the early 1990s onward, the role of commissions has changed. In commissions, politicians are now as rare as ice in the Sahara (defence is the exception here) and the link between commission reports and government policy has become increasingly more weak. These days, the pattern looks like this: The government sets up a commission of experts. Why? Probably to appear to be taking an issue seriously – and to take it off the political agenda. The commission works for one or two years and publishes its report recommending reforms. The government then declares that this is hopeless and buries the issue or enters negotiations with the Danish People’s Party which lead to the opposite result.

Actually, we had a new twist to the pattern this week when finance minister Claus Hjorth Frederiksen rejected the Labour Market Commission’s report before it was even published.

So why would you join a commission as an academic expert? Assuming that academics are not stupid (feel free to discuss), there may be some incentives.

Leaving the pay aside, you will have easy access to statistics and a secretariat to do calculations and models for you. Most social scientists would relish this. Heck, the secretariat will even be writing the report for you without anybody complaining. And there may also be a spin-off to your day job here as you will have access to inside information – you may not be able to use it as sources but getting the context right still plays a role in much of social science.

Alternatively, you could convince yourself that you are playing a long-time game. Sure, the politicians may frown right now but in a couple of years’ time they’ll come crawling back. (Come on: Academics are never humble when it comes to public policy. Never!)

Still, as the pattern with “setting up of commission – publishing of report – immediate rejection of recommendations” develop, governments may find that academics and experts need more selective incentives (pay, secretariat, access to data) in order to accept an invitation to join a commission.

And the next question is: How many times can a government play this game without loosing its credibility?

Robert Klemmensen blogs. In Danish. Just say “post-modernism” (or “post-modernisme”, in Danish) and watch him turn into this awesome creature.

Maybe it was not a surprise that she-who-must-not-be-named was linked with a cocaine ring:

The short of it is that marijuana use is more positively associated with science (.35), education (.38), artistic professions (.35), and engineering and architecture (.29), while cocaine use is positively associated with lawyers (.41) and, to a lesser extent, with business and finance occupations (.27), computer jobs (.25), and management fields (.26).

We should, however, note that the data are on a US state level.

Right. Back to normal operation mode.

Last night Danish police entered a church in Copenhagen where a number of Iraqis who have had their asylum applications rejected had been gathering for the past three months. At least to me, there was nothing surprising about the way the stand-off ended as there was only to realistic solutions – either the Iraqis gave up and surrendered themselves to the authorities or the police would apprehend the Iraqis.

That the government should overturn the decisions by the Refugee Appeals Board was inconceivable in the real world. The historical parallel was the “Palestinian case” where a number of Palestinian asylum seekers occupied/entered/sought shelter in another church in Copenhagen back in 1990 and where a majority in parliament outside of the government forced a special legislation granting the group residence permits¹. Given that a) the present government has a majority with DF and b) the Social Democrats may not have been very tempted to repeat the 1992 experience, political intervention was highly unlikely. So those involved must either have been very naive or playing a long-term game with children and families as pawns.

The entire process raises a number of interesting and difficult issues. Which is to say that I will not be telling you, if the police action was appropriate or not (it was legally correct, but legality and appropriateness are occasionally two different things), just as I find it hard to decide how rejected asylum seekers should be handled.

First of all: Apparently both the local vicar and members of the group supporting the Iraqis believed that churches and other religious places somehow hold a special judicial status in Denmark. They do not: Since the reformation, any church or religious place is under normal Danish jurisdiction². The only places or persons exempt are embassies (which are formally not “Danish soil”), the monarch (here the question is what status other members of the royal family hold) and MPs – but in the event of, say, an occupation of the chamber of the Danish Folketing, the likelihood of any MP protesting against the police entering the chamber is rather small.

If legal misconceptions weren’t behind the idea of “church asylum”, then there is the question of using the church as a tool in a political conflict. Asylum seekers may appeal to our sympathy, but – to take a hypothetical example – what if a “pro-life” vicar decided that housing the killer of a doctor who performed abortions was acceptable civil disobedience? And should the church be given special rights to decide what was acceptable speech or not? Putting an institution outside of normal legislation or social norms is not without complications once you try to think in more general terms.

Then we have the entire asylum process and the treatment of asylum seekers in Denmark. You don’t exactly have to be a rocket scientist (or a Ph.D. in Political Science) to figure out that the aim of Danish policy is to discourage foreigners from entering the country and that asylum regulations have been tightened considerably during the last 20 years. To an outsider it is very difficult to decide how many asylum seekers Denmark can or should cope with and exactly how procedures for deciding on political asylum should be designed.

If we assume that an asylum seeker has a strong motive to gain legal permission to stay in a country, then we should also note that there is a problem with asymmetrical information when handling asylum applications. You cannot count on asylum seekers giving correct information even about his or her identity – but you cannot count on countries like Iraq or Lebanon providing anything like correct informations about the risks faced by individuals either. It is very hard not to get a substantial number of false positives or negatives in such a process.

The next problem is the right to a due process and here we enter a major problem in Danish public administration. In the absence of a system of distinct administrative courts, Danish governments have set up a number of “court-like” institutions on a number of policy areas. The main objective here has been to stop administrative decisions from being subject to hearings and decisions in ordinary civil courts. Asylum policy follows this pattern of administrative decision subject to “court-like” review. Would administrative courts be better from an individual rights perspective – more or less efficient and time-consuming? And would it really be a good thing to have asylum processes drag out forever? Basically, you would have asylum seekers trying to wear out the administrative system or the administrative system trying to wear out asylum seekers (The latter alternative describes the present situation).

Political intervention like the 1992 “Palestinian Act” is problematic because it opens for unequal treatment. If you make a lot of noise and get politicians to grant you special rights: Good for you. But is it a good thing from the perspective of due process and equal treatment?

I would also note that appealing to international law is a non-starter in Denmark these days. The Social Liberal Party may not have learnt the lesson yet, but neither the Metock verdict nor statements from UNHCR (not a legal body, I know) or other organisations have had much impact on the political level or general opinion – at least not in the way RV would like. The Social Democrats were badly damaged by internal disagreements over immigration and asylum policies and would prefer the entire issue to just go away.

In all of this, we have a complicated political game between the Danish and Iraqi governments. Generally, Denmark hasn’t been too interested in developing Iraq despite being part of the US-led coalition – but could the Iraqi government be using rejected asylum seekers as pawns in an attempt to engage Denmark in development policies? Or maybe I have read too much Machiavelli?

Oh, and the immigration minister tells us that the timing of the police action was completely by chance and not due to any political interventions. I know I shouldn’t be too conspiratorial but still: Where did Ekstra-Bladet get its informations about Iraqis committing social fraud from? Was the timing of the disclosures really purely coincidental?

I know, I know. Too much Machiavelli.

1. Yes, the Danish parliament can legislate with reference to individuals. [↩]
2. And for once, media are using the term “expert” correctly [↩]

Oh dear: Imagine there is an executive committee and nobody came! I mean: In PolSci? Wouldn’t a bit of field work enhance your understanding of the subject? Apparently not, so now the ECPR has set up a working group and a blog whose purpose…

The [Constitutional and Electoral Reform Group] has now been created and, as part of the process of consultation and discussion with the ECPR membership, it has decided to create a blog to allow all those interested in making comments and recommendations to do so, at the same time as allowing others to respond with their own comments, thus creating a genuine debate. At the closure of the blog on 30 Sep. 2009 the Group will consider all comments posted on the blog. The Group does not wish to restrict the range of subjects that might be covered, and therefore welcomes comments on any aspects of constitutional and electoral reform of the ECPR which might be pertinent to its work. It is recommended, however, that participants focus on what is practicable and achievable both in terms of constitutional revision (a copy of the Constitution is to be found on the blog page) and the ECPR’s longstanding culture and practices as a genuinely European, multi-national organisation.

We shall see how it works out. Luckily, I’m no longer at risk of being picked for academic and university committees.

Completely unrelated but a note to self: I owe Annette Schmitt in Mainz a mail.

Somehow this is a classic of early and mid-August: The admissions numbers and the grades needed to enter different programmes are announced and the yammering begins. Students who are not admitted to their #1 and only programme in Copenhagen complain (as they say: The distance from Odense to Copenhagen is shorter than the distance from Copenhagen to Odense) and discussion about admission quotas distorting applications take another round.

Now Danish Industry claims that the most sought after programmes (i.e. those with the highest quotas) also have the highest unemployment rates – okay, if DI had its way, there would only be law and engineering programmes at Danish universities and all humanities faculties should be shut immediately – but there is something strange about the published data as the three MD programmes as well as biomedicine are all on the list. As is “International Business”. We are always told that there is a shortage of doctors (and that Swedes take up places in Danish programmes) and that “life sciences” are a central growth sector, so something doesn’t add up here.

PS: No, that unemployment among PolSci/Public Administration candidates is higher than among economists and lawyers is nothing new. Economists and lawyers have a better defined labour market.

My vacation was completely messed up so the only thing I had time for were some extended week-ends in Copenhagen.

But first, an older photo. The point here is that I’ve always been fascinated by Danish 1930s buildings which often applied a kind of modified functionalism (thanks to Krzysztof DobrzaÅ„ski for reminding me – it was interesting comparing Danish and Polish buildings)

This is as attractive as Ørestaden gets:

Generally, it looks more like this:

And somehow this summons up the Field’s shopping centre experience very well:

The real news isn’t that A.P. Møller-Mærsk pulled the plug on Lindø (and in that way ended major shipbuilding as a Danish industry) – there was a hint a couple of months ago – but that it happened while Mærsk McKinney Møller was still alive.

And now, back to normal operations.