When Francis Fukuyama proclaimed “the end of history,” it was a declaration that seasoned historians couldn't help but scoff at. Yet, little did we know that their skepticism would be vindicated in just over three decades. Once on the brink of triumph, the neoliberal Western world order found itself snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

And instead of closing down NATO and the military-industrial complex, middle management at the Pentagon and Foggy Bottom have allowed Congress - and forced its vassal states - to milk its taxpayers into debt slavery.

That’s what happens when you get too greedy and try to turn a victory into a rout.

However, one subject that Fukuyama wrote about, a subject that continues to captivate and intrigue, is trust.

In his book Trust: The Social Virtues and The Creation of Prosperity, Fukuyama asserts that the key to understanding variations in national economic performance is rooted in the concept of trust.

Fukuyama makes this claim primarily because he believes that trust enables the formation of large, privately owned corporations. He thought this gave a considerable edge to “high-trust” countries like the United States, Japan, and Germany.

“Low trust” countries like France, South Korea, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and (southern) Italy can only grow with good government past family company structures.

I’m unsure if there’s a way to quantify and classify high-trust and low-trust societies. But I think we feel certain ways in certain places. There’s no doubt I do. After traveling to over 60 countries, there are places where I’m happy to walk outside at night and places where I wouldn’t leave my hotel after dark.

At the risk of taking Fukuyama’s idea out of context, let me tell you what I learned about trust in Copenhagen.

But first, a quick detour…

Kelly’s

Unfortunately, I didn’t turn 21 until December of my senior year in college. I was one of those late babies who had to pray my fake ID got me into places my friends were going to. Most of the time, I was gracious enough not to go out with them if I knew they were going to strict bars. But since I memorized my fake ID details, I got away with quite a lot.

But one place at Villanova that didn’t tolerate fake IDs was Kelly’s, the local dive bar. I simply couldn’t get in until that December, and I was thrilled once I finally ordered a beer there.

I was in heaven as I stepped over the peanut shells and other assorted sundries strewn on the floor. Dirty, smelly, and old, Kelly’s was the epitome of a college bar along the Main Line.

I only had six months to enjoy it, and enjoy it I did.

But when I revisited Kelly's ten years later for my college roommate’s wedding, I was in for a shock. The old, familiar dive bar had undergone a complete transformation.

There were no peanut shells on the floor. They served food. And there was—GASP!—a salad bar!

I’m reminded of the outrage of the future Senator John Blutarsky when Delta House was getting repossessed…

“They took the bar! The whole f*cking bar!”

“They put in a salad bar! A whole f*cking salad bar!”

Essentially, they put lipstick on a pig to increase business. I get it. It happens. But it’s not natural.

However, what I experienced this past weekend in Copenhagen was anything but artificial.

The Taphouse

Friday night, Pam and her sister Meg went to the Michael Learns to Rock concert, and my brother-in-law Ken, Micah, and I needed to find something to do.

Meg mentioned a place in Copenhagen with 61 taps of draft beer.

Ken is a Belgian and, therefore, was born with the best beer palate on the planet. So we boys took a walk to Taphouse.

As we approached, I was skeptical they’d let kids in, but a handsome young bartender who happened to be outside said kids are allowed.

I was shocked, as in Northern Europe, most bars don’t let kids in… for good reason.

But when we stepped into Taphouse, we were greeted by a sight that was anything but typical. The pub was the cleanest, coziest, and most trouble-free environment I’d ever seen. The wooden bar was a beauty, free of liquids and stains. The atmosphere was lively but not unhinged, and people of all ages were enjoying their time there. It was a unique experience, one that I couldn't help but contrast with the pubs I had visited in other countries.

People of all ages were there, from as young as Micah to some grandfatherly-looking Vikings in the back of the room.

During the night, I accidentally dropped a couple of potato chips on the floor. The sight of this minor mess in such a pristine environment was so jarring that I immediately felt compelled to clean it up.

To be fair, I noticed this everywhere we were walking around. Danish hygge (pronounced HOO-ga), a cozy, contented mood evoked by comfort and friendliness, is now famous worldwide.

But to find such a mood in a bar smack in the middle of a national capital shocked me.

I asked myself, “What leads to such relaxed sophistication?”

Is It Socialism… or Culture?

Ever since Bernie Sanders called for America to look more like “socialist Scandinavia,” the Danes bristled at the notion of being called socialist.

The World Bank classifies Denmark as a high-income economy, running on what is loosely termed a developed mixed economy. This means that while Denmark celebrates free trade and market economics (capitalism), it also provides considerable social safety net benefits.

However, Denmark is not a socialist country in the strict sense of the term. The fundamental principles of socialism as an economic philosophy are central planning and public ownership of property and the means of production. These are not found in Denmark, where economics is based on the free market and the right to private property.

It’s more accurate to say Denmark has a mixed welfare-state economy, combining capitalist free market principles with strong welfare provisions. This model is often referred to as the Nordic Model.

Essentially, you do as you please for 364 days. But on Day 365, you pay up to 56% of your income in taxes.

However, none of that perceived “collectivism” explains the cleanliness, calmness, and happiness I found all over Copenhagen. To be fair, it wasn’t perfect - there was some graffiti on the trains - but it was as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen in a city.

Wrap Up

As America moves from a high to a low-trust society, it’s worth asking ourselves how we got here… or how they got there.

Trust is the grease in the economy’s wheels.

If you feel safe enough to do business with someone, making deals and organizing capital is easy.

But we no longer do things on a handshake, and I think that’s reflected in our society.

Maybe there’s something we can learn from the Danish.