Doomsday in Guovdageaidnu

Guovdageaidnu, 1852. A few scattered houses along the banks of a wide river. One day in the future, this place will be known as the cultural capital of the Sámi people – but that’s still a long way off. For now, seen through the lens of our time, it’s barely more than a hamlet. Especially in summer, few people remain in the area, as the reindeer-herding Sámi live by the coast during that season. The inland sees the most activity when snow blankets the marshes and the river freezes over. Guovdageaidnu changes with the pulse of the seasons.

In the middle of the village stands a cluster of unfamiliar buildings, inhabited by foreign people speaking a foreign language. The Sámi call them dáččat. About a hundred years earlier, distant state powers drew a border straight through Sápmi, and thus Guovdageaidnu became Norwegian. At least in theory – because there are hardly any dáččat in the deep, isolated heart of Sápmi.

A darkness descends over the 19th century. Among the ruling classes of the world, racial theories emerge to justify the oppression of other nations. In Norway’s elite, a cold rejection of the idea that other peoples’ languages and cultures should survive within the borders of the new Norwegian state begins to take hold.

We are inferior. We are unreliable. We are a security threat. We must be Norwegianized.

But so far, most Sámi have felt little of this. People have other worries, and one of the worst is a disease of body and soul spreading from the trading posts.

Substance abuse. The sale of liquor leads to addiction, poverty, and debt among the northern population. In Guovdageaidnu, Norwegian authorities have recently granted a merchant permission to set up shop near the church. Among other things, he sells spirits.

A counterreaction begins to take shape. In the northern regions, people—especially Sámi—flock to a religious revival. The leader of the movement is a Swedish priest of Sámi descent, who can preach in several of the region’s many languages. A radical message spreads like wildfire: the simple life of the common folk is just as virtuous as the superficial luxury of the authorities – but the sins that follow liquor lead them into damnation.

The use and sale of spirits is attacked with both stick and carrot. Sinners are publicly shamed – while those who repent are forgiven and welcomed into a warm fellowship of believers. It works: alcohol use declines in the north, both inland and along the coast.

And it’s intense. Wherever the revival reaches, churches transform from buildings where people silently listen to the priest, into spaces where emotions erupt. People express desperate sorrow over their sins, and ecstatic joy over forgiveness.

But also anger. What do the awakened say about the authorities—those who didn’t help in the fight against alcohol, who set poor examples, or even sold liquor to the people? The awakened make no distinction between high and low: all must repent. All must be cleansed of sin.

Some go further. They want others to renounce everything they see as superficial and useless – luxury and distraction – including elements of Sámi culture itself. Some of the awakened believe they can become sinless in this earthly life. And some believe time itself is nearing its end, that Judgment Day is close. Eventually, many Sámi distance themselves from the revival’s most extreme branches.

The greatest divide, however, is between the awakened and the authorities. In Guovdageaidnu, the rift deepens when Norwegian officials dismiss the Sámi sheriff who had shown leniency toward the awakened. He is replaced by one of the dáččat – a former employee of the liquor merchant, no less.

Tensions rise further when authorities hand down harsh sentences to awakened individuals who disrupted church services with their actions. They are sentenced to prison, fines, and legal costs. Families risk financial ruin and losing loved ones to penal labor far in the south.

Winter sets in. The reindeer-herding Sámi have returned inland as usual, but this winter something unusual happens: a large group gathers not far from the church. Norwegian authorities plan to forcibly apprehend one of the revival’s leaders to send her to serve her sentence. The awakened seek strength in numbers – but what can they ultimately do? Flee? What meaning would that have, if they believe Judgment Day is near?

Then it breaks. One faction in the camp decides to take drastic action. They act on a November day in 1852. The first to face violence are other Sámi who disagree with them. That same evening, a group travels down the frozen river. They head toward the church, the trading post, the liquor post, the seat of authority. It is time to cleanse.

An unexpected visit reaches the neighboring village of Ávži the next day. Sámi who have fled Guovdageaidnu arrive, telling of terrible events and asking for help. A new group of Sámi men and women sets out toward the church. When the two groups meet, something nearly unheard of in history unfolds: a battle between Sámi. The uprising is crushed.

The trading post is reduced to ashes. The liquor merchant and the sheriff are dead. Two of the rebels later die from injuries sustained in the clash. But more blood will be spilled.

Europe has seen much unrest and rebellion in the 19th century, and authorities respond harshly. Norway’s Supreme Court views the events in Guovdageaidnu as yet another attempt by “the lowest class” to “break down all natural barriers between themselves and the higher classes, thereby forcing a kind of equality that would destroy all civilization.”

The Sámi of Guovdageaidnu likely see things differently, but the power to judge and punish lies with the Norwegian authorities. The sentences are severe.

Two of the rebels receive the harshest punishment – in 1854, they are beheaded. Then they are subjected to one final humiliation after death: their heads are sent south and used for racial research.

They remained there for a long time. Their descendants had to fight hard to have the remains returned. In the south, some were reluctant to let go – there were still those who wanted to study Sámi skulls. Only on a November day in 1997 were the remains laid to rest in the far north. At last, the story reached its end – at least for some.

But it seems we are never quite done with the Kautokeino Rebellion. Interest in this story has not waned over the years. It continues to be retold – from new perspectives.

So through whose eyes should we view these events? Whom should we try to understand? And what is this story really about? Sámi resistance against Norwegian authority? Internal conflict among Sámi? Religious extremism? Class struggle? Does this story have heroes and villains – and if so, who are they? Or is it simply a tragedy for everyone involved?

Láhppon offers a fresh new perspective on the Kautokeino Rebellion. It’s neither the first nor the last time this happens – for winter is followed by spring, reaction by counterreaction, and history is retold in new ways as new times arrive.

Welcome to this season’s version of the story.

Mikkel Berg-Nordlie 

Guovdageaidnu, 2025