We tend to think of the Swedish as a largely peaceful people. All those minimalist interiors and meatballs seem calming, right?
But let’s not forget that in return for their glorious summer of all-day sunlight, there is a dark underbelly of the year where even in Stockholm the sun literally sets at 3pm. This is the home terrain of Thor, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and an awful lot of excellent death metal – the Swedes know how to go dark.
So of course when a sleepy town develops a charming Christmas tradition where they build a giant straw Christmas goat every year, the town’s miscreants develop a matching tradition where they try to burn it down.
The Gavle Goat, or Gavlebocken, was first built in 1966, and first burnt down on New Year’s Eve that same year.
You're looking at 13 metres high, seven metres long and 3.6 tonnes of beauty. Yes, I'm high, wide and handsome – what's not to like? #gävlebocken pic.twitter.com/SW4u7jnvDU
— Gävlebocken (@Gavlebocken) December 8, 2018
Ever since then, there have only been 15 years where the resilient ruminant has made it all the way through the festive season, including last year.
I repeat last years message: don't go harassing goats at 3 am. It will backfire.
???♀️ #bettersafethansorry— Gävlebocken (@Gavlebocken) December 7, 2018
Some highlights include the Gavlebocken being burnt down just six hours after completion (1970), being burnt down before it was actually completed and then the replacement also being burnt despite being doused in flame retardant (1979), the vandals hacking the security cameras so they wouldn’t be spotted (2001), an attempt by the town of Gavle at creating a protective ice coating that melted due to warm weather (2011) and an attempt to bribe a guard so they could try and just steal the whole thing using a helicopter (2010).
One hundred percent the best one, though, was the 2005 attack, where the vandals dressed as Santas and gingerbread men and shot flaming arrows at the goat.
The vandals range from festive militias with a plan to drunk idiots and teens with a whim, and there’s also speculation that it might be deeper than that.
A Guardian documentary from last year year speculated that the destructive tradition is actually driven by people who still worship the old gods, and either take pride in taking on such a towering symbol of a Christian festival, or want to honour Thor, who would cook the goats who pulled his chariot each night and regenerate them in the morning.
The town thus spends a small fortune trying to protect their biggest tourist attraction – from webcams and security guards, to a pretty hardcore fence around old mate (which authorities tell the ABC led to it surviving last year, and so far, this year too).
To be honest, I’m a little torn on which side to barrack for here. On the one hand, this sweet, sassy giant fella is tall and awkward and good at Twitter in a dorky sort of way, and also a goat, and I can identify with that.
"Always be yourself. Unless you can be the Gävle goat. Then always be the Gävle goat." But if you can’t BE me (cause you can't): get yourself a minime to adore when I'm not around. ? #gävlebocken #minime pic.twitter.com/DHstJpthKd
— Gävlebocken (@Gavlebocken) December 16, 2018
On the other hand, the ingenious spirit of destruction and Pagan mayhem evident in the decades-long tradition of trying to burn this thing to the ground speaks to me on a deep level, as someone who also spends most of the Christmas season wanting to set s**t on fire.
Me, skipping every version of ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ and ‘Feliz Navidad’.
While we’ve made it to Christmas Eve without any attempts on the goat, there’s still a whole day left in Swedish time.
Keep an eye on it with the live webcam, soundtracked by this banger recorded by – who else? – Swedish psych-rock band Goat.
