What interests me is why we so readily associate these words with Astrid Lindgren. Perhaps because she understood something about human nature that we still struggle to accept: obedience is not the same as goodness, conformity does not automatically produce happiness, and independence can sometimes be far more important than being liked.

We Tell Children to Be Unique – Then Train Them to Fit In

There is a peculiar contradiction at the heart of modern society. We encourage children to be creative, independent, and curious. We tell them to believe in themselves, pursue their dreams, and dare to be different. At the same time, we organise much of their existence around standardised expectations, assessments, and social conformity.

From an early age, children learn that there are correct ways of doing things. Correct ways to sit, speak, behave, perform, and think. Schools naturally need structure, and shared rules are essential if people are to live together. But somewhere along the way, we risk confusing order with development and uniformity with achievement.

A pupil who asks uncomfortable questions may be considered difficult. Someone who thinks differently risks becoming an outsider. Those who do not fit the expected model are often encouraged to believe that the problem lies with them rather than with the model itself.

This is where Astrid Lindgren's world becomes particularly interesting.

Pippi Longstocking is not merely a child with superhuman strength who can lift a horse. She represents a complete challenge to the adult world's assumptions about what a child should be. She lives without conventional authority figures, uses imagination as her primary tool, and refuses to accept rules simply because an adult has established them.

That does not mean Pippi is always right. She is frequently completely unreasonable. But that is precisely the point. She is allowed to be unreasonable. Her value as a human being does not depend on how successfully she conforms to society's expectations.

Emil is another fascinating character. His endless mischief can be interpreted as disobedience, but behind his adventures there is almost always curiosity, initiative, and a willingness to act. Adults see the problems. Readers see the possibilities. And the boy who repeatedly finds himself confined to the woodshed eventually grows into a respected member of his community.

It is difficult not to recognise a criticism of our tendency to judge people too early and according to criteria that are far too narrow.

We like the idea of innovative individuals, at least until their innovations begin disrupting our established systems.

The Invisible Power of the Crowd

Following the crowd is not necessarily an expression of cowardice. It is a deeply human mechanism with evolutionary roots. Throughout most of human history, belonging to a group was a matter of survival. Those who stood alone had fewer opportunities to protect themselves, obtain food, and establish security.

We still carry that need for belonging.

But today's crowd looks very different.

It no longer consists only of family, village, or colleagues. It exists within political movements, workplaces, social media platforms, neighbourhoods, and the cultural assumptions that determine what we consider a successful life.

We are expected to obtain an education, find employment, build careers, consume, borrow money, purchase property, prepare for retirement, and preferably present a coherent life story in which every stage logically leads to the next.

There is nothing inherently wrong with following that path. The problem begins when it becomes so unquestioned that alternatives almost disappear from our imagination.

How many people have genuinely chosen their lives with their eyes open? How many have simply continued moving forward because the road was already laid out by their parents, schools, employers, and society?

Social psychology has long demonstrated how profoundly group pressure can influence human judgement. Solomon Asch's classic conformity experiments in the 1950s showed that individuals sometimes adjusted their answers to match the majority, even when that majority was clearly wrong. Those experiments do not explain all human behaviour, but they reveal an uncomfortable truth: we are not always nearly as independent as we imagine ourselves to be.

And today, the influence of the crowd has acquired a technological amplification that previous generations could scarcely have imagined.

Social media constantly shows us what other people believe, purchase, experience, and become outraged about. Algorithms reinforce particular behaviours while making others almost invisible. We may believe we are freely exploring the world while our experiences are filtered through systems designed to retain our attention.

We have acquired seemingly limitless opportunities to express our individuality, yet often within surprisingly narrow boundaries defined by what receives attention and social approval.

The crowd has become digital. And sometimes it is harder to escape than ever before.

Moral Courage Is Not the Same as Being Difficult

It would, however, be a mistake to interpret the quotation as suggesting that the majority is always wrong and the solitary outsider is always right.

Some people oppose conventional thinking almost as a matter of principle, without genuinely considering what they are opposing. They build their identity around disagreement. If the majority says yes, they say no, almost regardless of the question.

But this, too, is a form of dependence on the crowd. Other people still determine the direction; the rebel merely chooses to walk the opposite way.

Genuine independent thinking requires something considerably more demanding: the ability to agree with the majority when it is right, challenge it when it is wrong, and remain willing to change one's mind when new evidence emerges.

That is one of the most important distinctions between individualism and moral courage.

Ronia the Robber's Daughter does not challenge Mattis and his robbers simply because she enjoys provocation. She discovers that the hostility the adults regard as natural and inevitable makes little sense to her. She sees Birk as a human being before seeing him as a representative of an enemy clan.

It is an almost timeless example of how inherited conflicts can continue from generation to generation simply because nobody dares question their origins.

Jonathan in The Brothers Lionheart represents another dimension of the same moral independence. His resistance to oppression is not driven by a desire to be different, but by the conviction that certain actions are necessary even when they involve enormous personal risk.

There is a crucial difference between independence as a lifestyle and independence as a moral position.

Astrid Lindgren herself was not someone who confined her convictions to the world of children's literature. She used her public position to criticise abuses of power and injustice. Her satirical story Pomperipossa in Monismania, published in 1976, became a significant intervention in Sweden's tax debate. She was also actively engaged in children's rights and animal welfare.

One does not have to agree with every position she took to appreciate the underlying principle: a person with genuine convictions must be able to criticise even the society to which they belong and which they fundamentally value.

That is not a threat to democracy.

It is one of democracy's essential foundations.

Perhaps Real Freedom Begins When We Stop Being Afraid

There is one aspect of conformity that receives far too little attention: how our fear of other people's judgement changes throughout our lives.

When we are young, we are often extraordinarily preoccupied with fitting in. We want to belong to the right social circles, wear the right clothes, have the right friends, and pursue the right future. As we grow older, those demands simply change their shape. Now they revolve around careers, families, financial security, and social status.

We exchange one collection of expectations for another.

But somewhere along the way, something remarkable sometimes happens. We discover that many of the people whose opinions once mattered so much no longer play any significant role in our lives. We realise that the positions and achievements we struggled to obtain did not necessarily deliver the satisfaction we had imagined. We begin questioning why we continue doing things we no longer genuinely want to do.

It is not always a comfortable realisation.

Discovering that you may have spent decades fulfilling expectations that were never entirely your own can be painful. But it can also mark the beginning of a new kind of freedom.

I believe there is a particular strength in daring to begin again later in life. Not because experience makes us infallible, but because it can give us perspective on things that once appeared unquestionable.

You have experienced successes and failures, watched organisations grow and disappear, encountered people from different backgrounds, and perhaps discovered that something regarded as absolute truth in one country is almost incomprehensible in another.

Leaving familiar surroundings and experiencing other societies can be an especially valuable exercise. Not because life is automatically better elsewhere, but because distance makes it easier to recognise the unwritten rules of your own culture.

Suddenly, much of what you previously regarded as normal no longer seems particularly natural.

You begin distinguishing between genuine needs and social expectations.

Between security and comfort.

Between success and meaning.

These distinctions can fundamentally change how you choose to live.

At the same time, we should be careful not to romanticise freedom. Not everyone has the same economic, social, or practical opportunities to change direction. Family responsibilities, health, and the need to earn a living impose very real limitations. Encouraging people simply to abandon their old lives risks becoming yet another privileged piece of lifestyle advice.

But independence does not necessarily mean moving abroad, resigning from your job, or completely reinventing your existence.

Sometimes it begins with the courage to say no.

Sometimes with learning something entirely new at seventy.

Sometimes with no longer apologising for the things you genuinely enjoy.

And sometimes with asking yourself, perhaps for the first time: what would I do if I no longer needed to impress anyone?

Astrid Understood Something We Are in Danger of Forgetting

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Astrid Lindgren's stories is that they are never simply about disobedience, freedom, or rebellion. They are also about responsibility, love, friendship, loneliness, and the consequences of our actions.

Pippi is independent, but also generous. Emil is troublesome, but has an enormous heart. Ronia defies her father, but is also driven by love and a desire for reconciliation. Jonathan resists oppression because he cannot accept a world in which human beings are denied their dignity.

It is a form of independence that does not depend on contempt for other people.

And that distinction feels especially important today.

We live in a social climate where independence is frequently confused with being loud, where provocation can attract more attention than reflection, and where people sometimes seem more interested in demonstrating their allegiance to a group than in genuinely understanding the issue being discussed.

But someone who truly thinks independently does not need to announce that independence constantly.

It is enough to live according to one's convictions, test them against reality, and accept responsibility for the consequences.

This is where the short quotation in the image acquires its deeper significance.

In one respect, it promises far too much. Anyone who chooses their own path is unlikely to escape all the bullshit. Quite the opposite: that may be precisely where the difficulties begin. Independence can involve loneliness, financial insecurity, misunderstanding, and failure. Breaking away from established patterns does not suddenly make the world easier.

But there is another burden that we can genuinely leave behind: the exhausting effort of living the life that other people expect us to live.

At least some of the internal conflict between what we truly want and what we believe we are supposed to be can disappear.

And perhaps that is worth far more than we realise.

Astrid Lindgren did not need to have written these words for us to recognise something of her spirit in them. Her stories remind us that human beings do not grow by unquestioningly accepting the limitations imposed by their surroundings. They grow through curiosity, imagination, compassion, and the courage to occasionally attempt something nobody else has considered.

That applies to the children in her books. It applies to adults. And perhaps it applies most strongly to those who, after a long life, still retain the desire to discover something new.

Because the real tragedy is not choosing your own path and failing. It is never attempting to do so because you have become so preoccupied with fulfilling expectations that you eventually forget what you once dreamed of.

There is no reason to despise the crowd. Community is valuable, and no human being is entirely self-sufficient. But belonging should be something we choose, not an invisible fence preventing us from exploring the world.

So follow the crowd if you genuinely believe it is heading in the right direction.

But occasionally, dare to stop, lift your eyes, and consider where everyone is actually going.

Because your path may not lead in that direction.

And there is no reason to assume that the best part of your life has already happened.

Perhaps it begins on the day you finally dare to walk another way.

Sources and Further Reading

• The Astrid Lindgren Company – Official website — Astrid Lindgren's literary legacy, characters and authorship.

• Astrid Lindgren – Official author website — Swedish-language material about her life, books and social engagement.

• Encyclopaedia Britannica – Astrid Lindgren — Biographical background and literary significance.

• Encyclopaedia Britannica – Solomon Asch — Background on the social psychologist known for his conformity research.

• Encyclopaedia Britannica – Conformity — Psychological perspectives on group pressure and social influence.

Editorial note: The Swedish quotation that inspired this essay has not been authenticated as a statement by Astrid Lindgren. The English rendering is a translation of the circulating text, not an independently verified quotation from the author.