Puolanka, Finland: welcome to the most pessimistic town in the world
At one point, the bleak town of Puolanka, Finland, was prominently featured in most negative news articles and statistical reports. Whether it was about poverty, poor employment rates, crime, and so on, Puolanka often occupied pride of place, contributing to achieving the not-so-proud moniker: “The most pessimistic town in the world”.
For those on the approach, the small town in Finland is difficult to miss—large, yellow signs appear as you grow closer, but instead of welcoming you, they warn you against going any further. “Are you lost? Next up: Puolanka,” warns one. “Soon, Puolanka. You’ve still got time to turn around,” states another. Being a resident in Puolanka once meant facing the infamous reputation daily. Now, it has become a focal point, mainly due to a handful of locals who decided one day that if that’s all that’s left, then it’s better than nothing.
Due to its ageing population and decreasing birth rates, the town only has around 2,600 residents, half the number it had in the 1980s. The surroundings look as lonely as the mindset, and the energy wanes more as the days pass. However, recognising the immovable outsider perception, Puolanka decided to transform its pessimism into a brand, adopting a tongue-in-cheek attitude as a means to boost its life and soul.
“If you look at the numbers in Puolanka, they are pretty grim in all possible ways, no matter how positively you interpret them,” Timo Aro, an expert on demographics in Finland, told the BBC. As a result, residents decided to take matters into their own hands, and soon, an entire movement formed dedicated to taking ownership of the town’s negativity.
Tommi Rajala, executive director of the Puolanka Pessimist Association, believes that taking strides to take back the town has come with a joint relief about never appearing anything less than authentic. “Usually, advertising is all about making things seem better than they are,” he explained. “The absolute best thing about pessimism is that I don’t have to lie.”
Of course, this approach largely stems from the townspeople’s dark humour. Here, struggles are tackled head-on in a humourous light, and events and activities are organised around this bittersweet mentality. One highlight of the town’s calendar is the Pessimist Festival, which features performances, speeches, and other activities that play up the town’s pessimistic persona.
As a result, the town has started to attract tourists, who are drawn to its unique humour and want to experience the bleakness for themselves. Media attention has also shifted, with the town crafting its own unique identity where inhabitants can approach the town’s negative reputation in a more lighthearted manner, which forges a more raw connection with the outside world. Unlike before, when Puolanka was just a statistic, it is now a place filled with renewed energy from the people.
Beyond the humour, however, lies something more profound: the insidious decline in rural municipalities. Like Puolanka, many towns have long-awaited support from organisations and governments but are often shunned in favour of more urban areas. However, Puolanka’s attitude also speaks to hope in the face of adversity and how communities can band together to create a better environment without support.
As Rajala put it: “If you live here and spend time dreaming about how Puolanka will get better and how more people will come one day, you’re fighting windmills,” concluding, “Those kinds of daydreams lead to frustration. But if you accept the facts as they are and then use that reality to your ends, living and functioning here is entirely possible.”
