Alice Gimbro Frisk
The image of Roskilde, a parallel universe disconnected from the bleakness of everyday life. It’s own neon bubble of daydrinking, tentlife and dancing till dawn without anyone questioning it. The festival organisers contribute to the creation of this “bubble” through their branding. They are “nonprofit” and call themselves a “platform for action” rather than a festival, with the claimed commitment to “bridge the gap between art, sustainability, and social responsibility, turning words into concrete actions”. They paint a picture of an alternative society, a utopia of a kind. But is it really?
With 8 days, 185 acts and over 130,000 visitors, Roskilde is one of Europe’s biggest festivals today. Walking from one end of the area to the other takes over half an hour, which figures since the festival area covers around 2,500,000 m2 (of which the festival site itself takes up 420,000 m2). Around 30,000 volunteers are involved during the festival, and participants set up around 50,000 tents in the camping areas. In other words, it’s huge. So huge that it ranks as Denmark’s fourth-largest “city” by population. For most, “this city” is just a week of partying and fun. However, Roskilde Festival is not disconnected from reality at all. Rather, the festival itself becomes a microcosm of our society.
This can be seen in many ways, but let’s start with the most obvious: class. Just examining the ticket prices makes it clear that this experience is not for everyone. The 8-day ticket costs 2550 DKK (3726 SEK), the 2-day ticket 2100 DKK (3083 SEK), and a single-day ticket 1330 DKK (1943 SEK).* Add to that travel costs, camping gear, food and alcohol – if you go for all 8 days that’s at least 10,000 SEK in total, and that’s probably an underestimation. Spending that much in just one week is inaccessible (and nearly ridiculous) to many, resulting in a very specific demographic making up the majority of those camping at the festival. Mainly white danish 16-28 year olds who seem to be there for one reason only: party and get absolutely piss drunk.
It’s more than just the price tag that screams “money is not a problem”. Actions certainly do speak louder than words. A reckless, careless attitude to everything – it feels like being spat in the face, seeing how these people treat their possessions. Items are thrown directly on the ground and left there to accumulate with the rest of the trash, over time turning the camping areas into giant dumpsters. Nothing seems to have any value. It is honestly repulsive. Without knowing anyone personally, I can’t help but to build a strong hatred as the days pass. This behaviour is the epitome of privilege – it shows you have no concern or respect for your surroundings and how your actions affect others.
There is a clear “wear and tear” culture, with broken tents scattered throughout the festival grounds. Capitalism is showing its monstrous face; items are made not to last but to only maximise profit, adding to the global overconsumption, causing pollution and ecosystem destruction in its footsteps.
Another one of humanity’s dark sides that is visible here is racism. Both by racist slurs spraypainted on tents “as jokes” and the humiliating treatment of the refund collectors, consisting mainly of Roma and black people. Seeing these white teenagers sit in their pile of garbage whilst refund collectors walk around collecting every last can for the few coins of change they give honestly breaks my heart. They’re so unsympathetic that they can’t even avoid stomping on these cans, drastically reducing the potential profit for the collectors. Sometimes, some even steal the carts from the collectors, “playing pretend” and copying them. The racism is so loud it’s deafening. Also, refund collectors are forced to camp side by side with these people, showing that the festival doesn’t really care about their safety or their humanity at all. It’s disgusting.
And just like the rest of society it is a very uninviting atmosphere for disabled people. There are no really quiet areas, and the sensory overload is constantly at extremely high levels. It’s a bit better regarding accessibility for those in wheelchairs and with other physical disabilities, with special areas by the stages, special toilets and “bike taxis” around the area.
Regarding the sustainability aspect, they do provide good public transport to and from the festival, and most clothing stores in the area are vintage, second-hand or at least organic. There is an “activist area” with talks on subjects like climate justice, decolonisation and queer resistance. Yet it is performative.
I love the idea of Roskilde being an alternative cosmos, actually breaking the capitalist chains by being a nonprofit festival. But sadly, that isn’t the case. Walking around, it feels like any other festival, and the nonprofit part is hard to understand. With so many people concentrated on such a small area, everything becomes exaggerated. The behavioural patterns usually hidden in everyday activities become bold and exposed. And it’s not a pretty sight. To be honest, I haven’t seen such an ugly picture of the human condition in a long time.
Some say, “This is just how festivals are”. Like it’s inevitable. But I don’t buy that. These problems are all manmade at their root, and thereby, if you have the will, effort can be made to create another reality. One that is actually inclusive and sustainable, not only on paper. The question is, are they ready to put in that effort?
*Calculations were made on the 23/10/2025, exchange rate 1 DKK = 1,46 SEK. Based on the prices for the 2025 tickets.