There are six Nobel Prizes. Five are awarded in Stockholm. One slipped across the border to … Norway!
Every December, the Nobel Peace Prize is handed out not in Sweden, but in Norway. It is the only one of Alfred Nobel’s prizes given outside his home country, and that is no accident.
When the Swedish inventor Alfred Nobel wrote his will in 1895, he specified that the prizes for chemistry, physics, medicine, and literature should be decided by Swedish institutions. But the Peace Prize, he insisted, was to be awarded by a committee of five people chosen by the Norwegian parliament.
Why he made this one exception, nobody knows for certain. Nobel left no explanation, and historians have been guessing ever since. Some believe he saw Norway as a more peace-minded nation. Others point to the fact that Norway and Sweden were joined in a political union at the time. A few even suspect he was influenced by his admiration for Norwegian writers. Whatever the reason, the instruction was clear, and Norway has honoured it every year since 1901.
The ceremony itself takes place on the 10th of December — the anniversary of Nobel’s death — inside Oslo City Hall. It is a grand room, its walls covered in vast murals of Norwegian life and history. It is a solemn affair, attended by the Norwegian royal family, government officials, and close to a thousand guests. The laureate receives a gold medal and a diploma, and delivers a lecture.
But for me, the most moving part happens later, out in the cold.
That same evening, thousands of ordinary Norwegians pour into the streets carrying lit torches. This is the torchlight procession, a tradition in which the public walks together through the heart of Oslo to honour the year’s laureate. They walk together through the centre of Oslo in a slow river of light, until they reach the Grand Hotel, where the laureate steps onto the balcony to greet them.
There is something quietly powerful in that image. A prize decided by five people, celebrated by thousands who simply show up in the dark and the cold to be part of it.
And that, I think, says something about how Norwegians see peace. Not as a grand idea handed down from above, but as something shared — a public responsibility worth braving the winter for to share their commitment to the shared ideal. The award may carry Nobel’s name, but the flames in the street belong to everyone.
So if you ever find yourself in Oslo in early December, follow the glow of the torches. You’ll be walking alongside a nation that treats peace not as a spectacle, but as a promise everyone renews together every year. 🕊️
