THE PARLIAMENTARY SAVANNA

By Mark Desholm, PhD in Biology, leader and columnist

Printet in the Danish newspaper Politiken, March 20 2026

In just a few days, Danes will once again head to the polls. In the weeks leading up to a general election, Christiansborg and the country as a whole transform into something resembling the African savanna in the middle of mating season. Species grow restless. Alliances break and new territories are formed. Males display their strength through spectacular performances—colorful plumage, powerful roars, and impressive horns. The purpose is to demonstrate vitality and dominance on the savanna.

Something similar, as mentioned, takes place in Danish politics during an election campaign. Suddenly, posters sprout on every lamppost. Colorful campaign buses travel across the country. Party leaders visit towns, factories, and high schools at a pace reminiscent of migrating herd animals. To a biologist like me, it resembles an intense period of signaling and positioning. Who appears strongest? Who can gather the most supporters? And who risks being pushed out of the territory?

On the savanna, such periods are crucial for evolution. The same applies to Danish politics. In that sense, an election campaign is the natural selection of democracy.

We biologists call such a savanna environment a habitat—a place where different species live side by side and compete for resources. On the Serengeti plains, the habitat is grassland. On Slotsholmen, it is Parliament. The similarities between the two ecosystems may be greater than one might initially think.

In nature, all species ultimately depend on one fundamental source of energy: the sun. Solar energy is converted through plant chlorophyll into biomass, which herbivores feed on, and which in turn sustains predators. In the political ecosystem, there is also a fundamental energy source: the state and its economic resources. The civil service functions as the system’s primary producers. It is here that legislative proposals are formulated, analyses are produced, and administrative structures are maintained.

But it is evolution and its dynamic processes—not stability—that ultimately shape both the savanna and politics. On the savanna, new species emerge, old ones disappear, and others split into new forms. Species that cannot adapt to changing conditions end up in an evolutionary dead end. The same applies in politics. New parties emerge, old ones split or vanish. The Moderates and Denmark Democrats arose as political mutations from Venstre. New Right emerged—and has almost disappeared again. The mechanisms of evolution are the same: variation, competition, and adaptation.

Species on the Parliamentary Savanna

In nature, some species play a particularly important role in the ecosystem. Biologists call them keystone species. Elephants are a classic example. As they move through the landscape, they knock down trees, create clearings, and open up new grazing areas. They disperse seeds and create small microhabitats where many other species can thrive.

At Christiansborg, the Social Democrats have long played a similar role. The party is the elephant of the political savanna: large, heavy, and shaping the surrounding landscape. Under Mette Frederiksen, the herd is led by an experienced matriarch, while the Social Democratic Youth can be seen as elephant calves raised close to the herd.

But the savanna, of course, consists of many more species.

Venstre—nowadays more visible at Akselborg than at Christiansborg—most closely resembles the okapi. It does not actually live on the savanna itself, but in the nearby rainforest, and is a peculiar animal: giraffe-like in the front, zebra-like in the back. For many years, this hybrid functioned as a single species. But evolution operates in politics as well. In recent years, the two parts have drifted apart.

The zebra has moved toward the Denmark Democrats under Inger Støjberg. Zebras are herd animals that move across open landscapes and defend themselves collectively against predators. Their characteristic black-and-white stripes can confuse predators when the herd runs together. Perhaps there is a small lesson here: humans are rarely as black or white as political narratives on the right sometimes make them out to be.

The giraffe—the tallest animal on the savanna—migrated instead toward the Moderates under Lars Løkke Rasmussen. It feeds on leaves high up in the trees and has a perspective over the landscape that few other species possess. With its long neck, it can detect danger before others—and perhaps it was precisely this ability that Løkke benefited from during his secret exit from a basement on Funen in 2019.

But evolution does not stop there. On the political savanna, the giraffe has evolved further into an even more adaptable Løkke species: the opportunistic hyena. Hyenas are among the most intelligent predators on the savanna. Their way of life is not always elegant—but they survive almost anything.

Liberal Alliance under Alex Vanopslagh resembles the cheetah—the fastest hunter on the savanna. The cheetah can accelerate explosively and create drama within seconds. But it also has a biological weakness: it cannot drag its prey up into trees. As a result, it often loses its catch to stronger predators. Anders Samuelsen’s ultimatum on top tax cuts during the 2015 government negotiations demonstrated precisely that LA is not built for climbing trees.

The Conservatives can be compared to the lion—the savanna’s classic predator. Lions live in prides with clear hierarchies and defined roles, defending their territory with determination. They are not the fastest or most adaptable animals, but they are among the most tradition-bound. In lion prides, roles are also relatively traditional: the females do most of the hunting, while the male primarily guards the territory and the pride’s position in the landscape.

The Social Liberals under Martin Lidegaard can reasonably be compared to the wildebeest. Every year, millions of wildebeest migrate across the Serengeti in search of new grazing grounds. When the herd changes direction, the dynamics of the entire savanna can shift. Similarly, this relatively small party in the center of Danish politics has often significantly altered the balance of power in Parliament.

The Red-Green Alliance under Pelle Dragsted resembles gazelle herds. Gazelles exist in many species and often gather in large mixed groups. The larger the herd, the harder it is for predators to single out prey. Similarly, the Red-Green Alliance emerged as a coalition of smaller left-wing parties—each too small to survive on its own.

The Socialist People’s Party under Pia Olsen Dyhr can be compared to the dung beetle. Dung beetles live close to the savanna’s largest animals—especially elephants—and make use of the excrement left in their wake. When large elephant herds move through the landscape, dung beetles follow. In Danish politics, SF has similarly gathered many of the voters left behind in the Social Democrats’ rightward shift.

The Alternative, in this metaphor, resembles the meerkat, which lives in tight colonies where community is essential for survival. While some forage, others stand guard and immediately raise the alarm if danger approaches. Meerkats are not the largest animals on the savanna, but they survive through cooperation and collective awareness. Likewise, the Alternative has sought to cultivate new political working methods and to keep watch for problems others have yet to notice.

The Danish People’s Party under Morten Messerschmidt resembles the black rhinoceros: thick-skinned, temperamental, and territorial. It does not necessarily aim to be popular with other species, but it can be quite effective at creating conflict. As with the zebra, we also see an exaggerated focus on black versus white identity—somewhat absurd given that all rhinoceros species are in fact grey.

And then there is the secretary bird—a tall, elegant predator that strides through the grass and kills snakes with precise, powerful kicks. It is one of the best-dressed species on the savanna. A fitting metaphor for the verbally hard-hitting and, until recently, always classically dressed party leader Lars Boje Mathiesen.

The Scavengers

No savanna ecosystem is complete without scavengers. When an animal signals vulnerability or imminent decline, vultures quickly appear in the sky. They are the savanna’s sanitation workers, cleaning up and maintaining hygiene in the habitat.

At Christiansborg, a similar species exists: the press.

Journalists move freely through the habitat—from corridors to committee rooms and the parliamentary chamber. Like vultures, they have an almost instinctive ability to detect when conflict, mistakes, or political weakness suddenly lie exposed. It may be uncomfortable—or even fatal—for political animals caught under circling vultures. Nothing remains hidden for long.

Migratory Birds

The savanna also contains species that do not live permanently in the habitat but appear when conditions are favorable. Migratory birds are a classic example.

At Christiansborg, a similar group exists: lobbyists.

Interest groups, trade associations, and NGOs move in and out of the political habitat depending on which issues are on the agenda. When new legislation approaches, they gather in corridors, attend meetings, and seek to influence decisions. Their fleeting presence, like that of migratory birds, is an integral part of the ecosystem.

Trophy Hunters

The savanna attracts not only animals—but also hunters.

In nature, trophy hunters travel long distances to kill an impressive animal and bring it home as a symbol of success.

In politics, a more civilized version exists. When top politicians leave Christiansborg, the business world often appears with attractive positions on boards, in consulting firms, or in interest organizations. A former minister or party leader’s name can function as a valuable and attention-grabbing trophy. In this way, some political careers simply continue in a new ecosystem—where experience from the savanna still holds great value.

Territorial Behavior

If one follows the long debates in the parliamentary chamber—especially at the opening and closing of the parliamentary year—one can occasionally observe a small piece of savanna behavior among the green-upholstered chairs. Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen, and sometimes Lars Løkke Rasmussen, rise from their seats and move slowly through the chamber. They stop at various groups, exchange a few words, place a hand on a shoulder, and move on. Their gaze sweeps across the rows, as if noting who is where.

To this biologist, it resembles classic territorial behavior. Dominant animals move visibly through their domain to demonstrate presence, awareness, and strength. At Christiansborg, something similar takes place—just in suits, and among fan-shaped rows of chairs rather than fur and acacia trees.

Abiotic Factors and Migration

Life on the savanna is not shaped only by species themselves. The ecosystem is also influenced by what biologists call abiotic factors—conditions such as rainfall, drought, temperature, and food availability. When these conditions change, species must adapt. Some succeed. Others reach an evolutionary dead end and risk disappearing.

Migration is one of the most important mechanisms in such systems. Animals move into new habitats, others leave, and sometimes these movements reshape the entire ecosystem. New species can create competition—but also new relationships, niches, and forms of symbiosis. Ecosystems without movement quickly become fragile.

The same applies to society. Human migration has historically shaped economies, cultures, and political conflicts—but also driven innovation and development. From an evolutionary perspective, movement is not an exception, but a fundamental part of the system’s dynamics.

Evolution’s Advice to Democracy

When we biologists study ecosystems, one insight recurs: the most stable systems are not those dominated by a few species, but those with high diversity and variation. Many species, many niches, and many survival strategies. This applies to the savanna—and, in my view, to democratic societies as well.

When new parties emerge or old ones disappear, it may seem chaotic. But from an evolutionary perspective, it is precisely this process that keeps the system alive. That is why the two-percent electoral threshold may be one of the most important elements of the Danish democratic ecosystem. It allows new species to arise through mutations and gain a foothold relatively easily, introducing new and creative perspectives that can reshape the entire system.

Democracy functions because it can continuously adapt. And ultimately because voters—the savanna’s evolution—are allowed, in the ballot box, to decide which species are allowed to survive.

The most important rule of evolution thus applies both in nature and on the parliamentary savanna: those species—or parties—that fail to adapt to an ever-changing world go extinct.