Tunisia: A celebration of democracy and freedom

'The multitude is stronger than the king.” The Chairwoman of the Nobel Peace Prize Committee used that traditional Tunisian saying in her opening address to emphasize the common human struggle to cast off oppression. Directly in front of her sat the King, Harald V. But it's Norway, so I am sure he was not offended. Norway elected a king following independence. If their democracy can elect a king, then they can also reject one. Harald is here for the sake of tradition.

The 96th Nobel Prize for Peace was awarded to the National Dialogue Quartet from Tunisia on Dec. 10 at City Hall in Oslo. Dec. 10 is the birthday of Alfred Nobel. While the Nobel prizes for literature, medicine and the like are awarded with majestic pomp and ceremony in Stockholm, the Peace Prize is fittingly bestowed at a special, but far less grandiose affair in the Norwegian capital city.

My attendance to the ceremony was the double good fortune of being a Fulbright Scholar to Norway and being one of the winners of the grantee lottery for the seats. I attended with three other Fulbright grantees, two professors and a graduate student. From Iowa, Illinois, Arizona, and Connecticut, we joined with the rest of the world to honor and take inspiration from the laureates.

The 9:06 'sunrise” confirmed a dim and cloudy day, typical of December. The breeze was full but surprisingly the air was mild. I took the risk of only wearing my suit for the day out. By midmorning I was at Oslo City Hall, 'Rådhus” in Norwegian. There was little to suggest on my walk that this neighborhood was about to become a very important place full of very important people.

The security presence surrounding city hall was visible and much more than normal, but nothing what an American would consider heavy for such an occasion. When one of the armed officers (police are rarely armed) photobombed a couple taking a selfie, I knew for certain this was nothing like American security.

The air temperature was dropping, I chose to enter the security line earlier than planned: cold fingers do not take good pictures of arriving dignitaries. The initial security was efficient, I entered city hall seaside to the music of the Army band. While they were playing music, the growing wind was playing havoc with their sheet music.

Inside was another security check. Then, up the stairs to a spacious and staffed coat check area, beyond were the refreshments in the gathering area. This room had walls of pink marble and green columns. When Norway was a poor country they built this beautiful building; it reminded me of New Deal public buildings in America. The architecture and decorative features of city hall enhanced my feeling that I was part of something special.

Finally able to take our seats in the cavernous Central Hall, the reality of this event was certain. My seat was in row 29 of 30. But sitting in the back gave me a sense of the crowd in the midst of the impressive room. Plus, the aisle seat meant that I would be within arm's length of the procession of dignitaries.

Four uniformed trumpeters announced the entrance of the Committee and the laureates. Next, they called the entrance of His Majesty, along with the chairwoman and the royal family. The King and Crown Prince wore business suits. Their lilac-hued neckties suggested the Advent season. The Queen wore a green suit with matching hat. The Princess was similarly dressed but in white and with a black band in her hair.

The royals took their chairs at the head of the aisle, when the king sat, so did everybody else. And then the soloist warbled. Lise Davidsen sang from Edvard Grieg's 33rd Opus. Like the seafaring tradition of Norway and the saltwater a mere 100 yards away, her voice slowly, yet powerfully filled the Central Hall like an incoming tide.

Chairwoman Kaci Kullmann Five delivered a meaningful opening speech on behalf of the committee. The address was in English, something that gave me pause. Her remarks emphasized the perseverance of the laureates to work toward an inclusive, consensual, and democratic resolution to the 2011 revolution in Tunisia. Against all odds, the work of the National Dialogue Quartet succeeded. On Jan. 26, 2014, Tunisia adopted the most progressive and democratic constitution in the Arab-speaking world.

The laureates were presented their diplomas and medals to great cheering. Many Tunisian attendees broke out in song. A triumph of the public will.

Another performance, this time by Emel Mathlouthi. Emel is a popular Tunisian singer who was also a leader in the youth protests that helped topple their dictator. Her song, 'Kelmti Horra,” was about freedom of speech. I could not understand the words but I could understand the sentiment. Against the stereotypes, she wore a short sleeved dress with a plunging neckline. The hem just reached her knees. Following her song she made an impromptu statement of national pride and a reminder of the centrality of young people in the movement for freedom.

The four winners gave a single acceptance lecture in four parts, the three men and woman in turns. The sentiments that will stay with me were their repeated acknowledgments of how difficult it was to keep the participating groups focused on the greater, long-term good: self-interest being an omnipresent and corrosive participant.

I could not help but think of my American democracy. The struggles of the Tunisians for independence from Tyranny were not so different from our own. Their trials to build a democracy that can achieve consensus toward a better future resonates in American society today.

I noticed during the laureates' lecture that blue skies had replaced the clouds. The atrium skylights signaled a hopeful future. I hoped it was an omen that more light would be in store for Tunisia as well as the rest of the world.

' John Lawrence Hanson, Ed.D. is a teacher at Linn-Mar High School on a Fulbright Scholarship in Norway for the academic year. He blogs about his experience at johnlhanson.wordpress.com