There's Something About Samsø

First and foremost, Samsø is a municipality of about 4000 permanent residents--2500 in the main village of Tranebjerg, while the remaining 1500 are scattered throughout the other villages and connected by a network of quiet roads and a patchwork quilt of increasingly industrial farming projects. It is also one of the 78 inhabited Danish islands, 114 km2 (44 mi2) in area, and home to maybe 25,000 vacationers throughout the year. Despite the charm of the 300-year-old half-timber houses with their thatch roofs, Samsø is a polarized community, separated historically by a bog in the northern part of the island and a now-dry canal that dates back to 737 CE. The accents heard across the island are more similar to the accents at the nearest mainland ports than they are to each other, and even in such a small space, the islanders divide the regions in terms of class.

And yet, there is a high amount of trust. Samsø is a place where farmers set up shelves outside their homes to sell their goods day and night--with nothing but a locked box to deposit money in. These kiosks were everywhere on the island, selling garage sale junk, crafts, extra vegetables, famous Samsø kartoffler (potatoes--the island boasts the most delicate in Denmark), strawberry marmalade, and pumpkins (the recent increase in the popularity of Halloween has made this place the 'Pumpkin Capital of Denmark'). And if you see someone walking down the otherwise deserted street, you might just be able to get her to lead you to the oldest house in the village: a circa 1600 Captain's homestead that has been in the same family for the past 12 generations. Then, the 11th generation granddaughter might lead you around her home, where she'll show you the old gravestone that her 5th generation grandfather took down to use as a place for the milk jugs and tell you about how in the early 20th century, 1 person in every third house on the street would emigrate to America.

However, in most recent years, tourists don't come to Samsø to see this community of old European villages.  Instead, they (including myself and 29 others in my group that went last weekend on a DIS-sponsored trip) come to see an island that has made themselves carbon neutral and energy-sustainable in just 10 years, thanks in part to a competition the Danish government held back in 1997, which called for a public-driven energy project that used existing technology and government subsidies.  Today, residents generate all their electricity from 11 wind turbines on the island.  They heat their homes by burning straw or woodchips at district heating plants, and solar panels in the northern section provide hot water.  Plus, 10 off-shore windmills export energy to the mainland, which offsets the island's transportation and heating carbon enough to lower each resident's carbon footprint to -3.7 tonnes per year.  In the meantime, the rest of the country still chugs along at 10 tonnes of carbon dioxide per person per year.  The average American?  We'll . . . we emit 20 tonnes.

I realize that all I've done here is throw s list of facts at you, but I don't really have a better way of expressing this feat.  How can a small island, graced with that conservative mentality of waiting before trying anything new (much like Indiana) achieve this goal?  Was it the way the project made sure all voices around the island were heard in the process?  Or maybe it was the emphasis on personal gain for both the projects themselves and involvement with their construction?  The focus on use of local resources and businesses? 

As far as my experience on Samsø goes, I sure can say how much fun I had biking and hiking in the gorgeous weather, collecting smooth rocks in the Baltic Sea, and climbing a wind turbine.  I can marvel over the history of the community as it develops from it's long-built dichotomy to a place that attracts forward-thinking businesses, like the organic Samsø Bryghus (brewery) and restaurant.  But what I won't forget for a while is the impression that these people have made on me.  Even with somewhat of an opposition, they worked together to do something miraculous.  Indiana may not have the same resources or the laws in place that could allow this to happen (yet), but I direly hope they can learn from this example.

For more information, visit Energiakademiet.