One of the first things you notice when visiting Denmark is how utterly, beguilingly pleasant everyone is. Unlike their counterparts in Germany, Poland or Spain, waiters, bar staff, taxi drivers and ordinary people in the street will go out of their way to be helpful, in a completely natural and cheerful way.

It’s such an endearing quality that everyday encounters give you the kind of spiritual boost you habitually experience upon returning to Glasgow, following an enforced visit to Edinburgh.

They even have word for this collective warmth: hygge (pronounced hoog-gah), which means creating a warm atmosphere and enjoying the good things in life with good people.

The next thing you notice is how freely people express themselves in public, not in a touchy, showy, feel-my-angst kind of way, but they leave you in no doubt about where they stand.

During a trip to Copenhagen, where I spent most of last week, the city was awash with micro expressions of solidarity with the people of Gaza and Lebanon.

I mention this not as the start of an unsolicited travel article, but because Denmark is frequently cited as a model for an independent Scotland.

Read more by Carlos Alba

As a fellow small nation in the north Atlantic, surrounded by water and with a similar climate, demography and holding of natural resources, it is held up as the sort of society we could be, if only we had control over our own destiny.

Objectively, there is nothing to prevent Scotland from being like Denmark and why would we not want to be?

Since 1979, it has been ranked among the world’s happiest countries by successive international studies.

Danish people enjoy the good life. They like nothing better than getting together to eat and drink; they love music, particularly singing, and they don’t want to work too hard. So far, so Scottish.

They don’t like to be told what to do, which probably helps to explain their high levels of drinking and smoking. Tick, tick.

A ban on smoking in public was introduced only recently but it doesn’t seem to be rigidly enforced. We walked into a busy pub on Friday night whose atmosphere immediately transported me back to the 1990s. It took me a few moments to realise that everyone had a fag in their hand.

A semi-autonomous “hippy” community exists in the centre of Copenhagen, with its own flag and currency. One of its thoroughfares is called Pusher Street, where it is possible to purchase one’s substance of choice if you know the right people. Items banned from the street include cameras, guns, and bullet-proof vests.

Danes enjoy free access to high-quality public services, including comprehensive schooling, tuition-fee free higher education, and publicly funded universal healthcare, free at the point of delivery. Tick, tick, tick.

The country also, surprisingly, has western Europe’s lowest levels of life expectancy and some of the world’s highest rates of cancer. While part of this is explained by high detection rates, it is also down to inflated levels of smoking and drinking and poor diet. We can all raise a half-bottle of Buckfast to that.

But beyond those similarities, things start to deviate. According to the World Happiness Report, happiness is closely linked to social equality and community spirit, and Denmark does well on both.

Danish society thrives on trust, a cornerstone of its happiness and cultural identity. This pervasive trust manifests in business, government, and personal interactions, fostering honesty and minimising corruption. 

Trust extends to the public transport system, where there are no barriers as it is assumed everyone will buy a ticket, and to personal safety, allowing Danes to walk or cycle freely, day or night.

Eight or nine-year-olds routinely use public transport unaccompanied, watched over by fellow passengers; parents commonly leave napping babies outdoors, even in winter.

It will come as no surprise that this Utopia doesn’t come free. People living in Denmark pay some of the highest taxes in the world:  the average rate of income tax is 55.9% and they also pay 25% VAT on most items.

Danes drive fewer cars than we do, many preferring to cycleDanes drive fewer cars than we do, many preferring to cycle (Image: PA)

New cars are taxed at 150% and equity earned by owner-occupiers is taxed at 42% when they come to sell their home. Consequently, renting is far more popular than in Scotland.

Danes also drive fewer cars, many preferring to cycle. Copenhagen is literally awash with pushbikes, many of which are chained to stop them being stolen, but many aren’t.

Most Danes are happy to high pay taxes because they recognise the social benefits that they achieve. Their shared commitment funds a robust social safety net, assisting children, the elderly, and the ill. Job loss isn't catastrophic; support lasts up to two years, contingent upon active job searching.

To meet these high tax requirements, Denmark is a highly entrepreneurial society with an enviable record of private wealth creation.

It is the world’s fifth-largest exporter of food, including its signature product of bacon, and other successful industries include toolmaking, shipbuilding, iron and steel production, pharmaceuticals, textiles and clothing, electronics, LEGO, construction, furniture and other wood products.

Of course, there is no requirement for Scotland to mirror a country like Denmark in every respect, but as a successful small nation with a stable, high-performing economy and a comprehensive social welfare system, it is a model that many people would like to see implemented here; many, but certainly not all and perhaps not even a majority of those who support independence.

While there are nine major political parties in Denmark, none of them seriously supports dismantling the expansive Danish welfare state.

Even the most ardent nationalist here might baulk at having to pay a tax rate of 55.9% along with a range of other duties. Many more people, and not just Tories, would argue that the economy of an independent Scotland would require to be scaled-up significantly to avoid perhaps even more punitive taxes being imposed.

In the meantime, we can be happy in the knowledge that, in Glasgow at least, we can match the Danes for friendliness, warmth and generosity of spirit. Not so sure about our brethren on the other side of the M8.

Carlos Alba is a journalist, author, and PR consultant at Carlos Alba Media. His latest novel, There’s a Problem with Dad, explores the issue of undiagnosed autism among older people