NORWAY: Norway Wealth Tax Victory Shows Visible Fairness Still Matters

Norway’s national election, effectively a referendum on the country’s wealth tax, shows that even in an oil-rich sovereign wealth fund-backed nation, voters will defend fairness-based taxation—a faint but important signal for global debates over inequity.

When Norwegians went to the polls last week, the central issue wasn’t just a question of who would wind up being prime minister—it was whether one of Europe’s last wealth taxes would survive.

Prime Minister Jonas Gahr Støre’s Labour Party squeaked by with a narrow win against a surging populist right, and Norwegians indicated the continuing political salience of redistributive policies.

This may sound like a minor squabble in a country with a GDP smaller than that of New Jersey. But the Norwegian result may matter beyond Oslo. In an era when wealth taxes have all but vanished, and the concept of equitable taxation seems to be on its heels, Norway’s election became a rare public referendum on the core principle of taxing capital.

It is worth placing this small victory in a broader historical context. Wealth taxes once dotted the European continent, as France, Germany, Denmark, the Netherlands all had comparable wealth tax policies. At their peak, they numbered more than a dozen.

But most have been eliminated, abandoned for fear of capital flight, administrative complexity, and lobbying by business elites. Only three countries in Europe still impose a levy on wealth: Spain, Switzerland, and Norway. It appears that the list won’t shrink to two—at least for now.

That may not seem like much more than a symbolic victory overall, but symbolic victories matter. In tax policy, as in climate or health-care policy, outliers can often carry disproportionate rhetorical weight.

A single state can provide proof of concept that taxing fortunes is administratively possible and politically survivable. That Norway defended its version against both billionaire tantrums and populist backlash shouldn’t be underestimated in the global context.

Of equal salience is that, at least in the near term, Norway likely doesn’t need a wealth tax to balance its books. Oil revenue, funneled into the country’s sovereign wealth fund, finances a quarter of public spending.

Keeping the wealth tax thus speaks to more than just the need to preserve a vital revenue source. In a society where everyone’s tax returns are public and billionaires can cross the border to Sweden and beyond at a moment’s notice, the tax signals that nobody is above contributing.

Ultimately, that logic may resonate far beyond Scandinavia.

A contrast with the US is instructive. Norway has oil rents as a revenue backstop and a $2 trillion sovereign wealth fund socked away; the US has Silicon Valley and Wall Street, fueling an illusion of endless growth. Both models may create a sense of permanent riches, but only one has chosen to hedge against that illusion with a visible fairness tax that can help keep the state running.

There’s also a political cost in pursuing equitable tax policy. Easing tax burdens on the wealthy can bring short-term applause and high-profile announcements of reshoring wealth.

The US has chased those political wins for decades—lowering capital gains rates, defanging estate taxes, and treating wealth taxation as a mix of political poison and administrative madness. But without a sovereign fund to fall back on, the US’ refusal to pursue wealth taxation looks far riskier than Norway’s decision to keep it.

Though Labour’s win was a positive sign, it won’t likely spark a sudden global revival of wealth tax debate. The political headwinds elsewhere, including in the US, continue to blow hard against redistribution.

What Labour’s narrow win shows instead is that fairness can be defended at the ballot box—even when billionaires threaten to leave, populists double their vote share, and the math says the government doesn’t even need the money right now.

That last bit is the part worth watching from stateside. In a rich democracy with a massive fiscal cushion, some voters nonetheless insisted that visible fairness mattered.

As it turns out, that voting bloc is sufficient to win an election. But advocates for economic justice should note that fairness carried the day only narrowly. Redistributive policies aren’t self-sustaining; they require constant defense.

In the US, where we have no sovereign wealth fund and face widening inequity, we need to ask ourselves if we are in a stronger position than Norway to let wealth go untaxed—and whether we’re more susceptible to capital flight than Norway to substantiate our inaction.

What begins as a fringe demand today can become tomorrow’s governing consensus, but only if citizens and leaders alike have the courage to defend it in public. Wealth taxes aren’t theoretical abstractions relegated to the dreams of policy wonks and columns: They raise real revenue, curb inequality, and demonstrate that no one is too rich to contribute to the system that sustains them.

If fairness can carry the day in Norway, even against billionaires’ threats and a populist surge, there is no excuse for US policymakers to keep ducking the issue. The US needn’t copy the Norwegian model wholesale—but it does need to put wealth back on the table as part of any serious debate about economic justice.