The Finnish Line

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The Finnish Line
Famous for their survival mentality, the Finns endure harsh climate and long hours of darkness. A visitor hopes to see how well he'd fare in a Nordic winter.

"Absolutely!" he says. "Without it, you can't survive."

To understand sisu, Stites explains, it's important to know about Finnish history, which includes lots of wars, invasions and foreign occupation. Finns aren't just the victims of severe weather. They haven't been treated that well by next-door neighbors Sweden and Russia, either. Sisu, Stites says, has sustained Finns through all of their long struggles.

Best known in the past for hosting East-West summit conferences, Finland in the last 15 years has snapped out of its Cold War identity crisis. "Finnish officials used to spend a great deal of effort trying to placate the Russians," says Stites. The government, in deference to the Kremlin, even had a policy of returning Soviet defectors.

The collapse of communism changed that, finally giving Finns a chance to be themselves -- confident, resourceful and quietly cutting-edge. Nowhere are the results more apparent than in Helsinki. The quaint seaport city has to be one of the most pedestrian-friendly capitals in Europe; just about everything is within easy walking distance, or a short tram ride, of everything else. Part of what makes exploring the city so interesting is watching Finns demonstrate their winter resilience. It doesn't take long to see how the Finnish economy, rated among the most competitive in the world, has turned Helsinki into a techno-metropolis where software companies such as Linux and cell phone giant Nokia have made interconnectivity a way of life. The Internet is so pervasive in Finland it could be a public utility.

Despite the telecommunications boom, Finns continue to keep a cautious eye on Russia, and the vast Russian collection at the Slavonic Library indicates that little has escaped their attention. But this afternoon Stites would rather recuperate than work on his next book.

"Krapula," he sighs.

That's Finnish for "hangover," a word I added to my own limited vocabulary the first time I was here. Last night, Stites was out drinking with some colleagues. One of the advantages of early winter sunsets -- not that the sun makes that many appearances this time of year -- is that Finnish bar life starts at 3 in the afternoon.

"There's a whole culture of krapula in this country," says Stites. "Finns understand that sisu needs help in the winter, and krapula is the price. You would never show up for work in the U.S. and tell people about your hangover. In Finland, everyone understands."

Still, as with most things Finnish, there are limits. Just because downtown Helsinki has few, if any, stop signs doesn't mean drivers aren't expected to stop. What makes them? I once asked a cabbie. "Community pressure," he replied.

Russians like to joke that Finland is a big village. It could be. There's a feeling of small-town togetherness throughout the country. You can see it in Finnish history, too. Centuries ago, with the advancing Mongols right behind them, ancestors of the modern-day Finns began moving westward from their homeland in the Ural Mountains, eventually settling in the fens and forests of northern Europe. The Finnish people have had to be tough and well organized to live in this part of the world, qualities celebrated in "Kalevala," an epic poem filled with accounts of hardship and courage that could be the closest thing the nation has to a mission statement.

When I bring up the Sports Institute of Finland, where sisu training, I'm told, is part of the conditioning program, Stites is skeptical. Sisu can't be taught, he says. It's something that develops over time by direct exposure to sisu-producing situations.

Aren't there any shortcuts?