Tjøme is one of Norway's most exclusive summer destinations, a string of islands at the southern tip of Vestfold where wealthy families have owned coastal cabins for generations. In 2017, a whistleblower uncovered what became one of the biggest building corruption scandals in Norwegian history.
For thirty years, architect Rune Breili was the go-to man for anyone wanting to build or expand a cabin in Tjøme's protected coastal zone. He had a reputation for getting permits through where others could not. The mechanism was elegant in its simplicity. Breili would draw up the full, ambitious plans his wealthy clients wanted, sometimes including staff quarters, tennis courts, and swimming pools. Contractors received quotes based on these real plans. But what Breili actually submitted to the municipality was something entirely different: sanitized versions where major renovations became "facade changes" and expansions shrank to pass scrutiny. The clients saw their dream project. The municipality saw paperwork that looked harmless.
The scheme had a crucial enabler inside the system. Breili had drawn up the plans for the personal house of Harald Svendsen, head of Tjøme's building department, free of charge, a service worth around 50,000 kroner. In return, Svendsen approved Breili's clients' applications, often bypassing the rules meant to protect public access to the shoreline. Neighbour complaints were ignored. In at least one case, downsized plans were submitted to overcome objections, then the original larger design was built anyway.
Under Norwegian building law, the property owner, called the tiltakshaver, must sign and authorize the building application. The architect submits it on their behalf as ansvarlig søker, the responsible applicant. So every one of these doctored applications went to the municipality with the property owner's name and authorization attached to plans they likely never reviewed in detail. The system assumes the professional acts honestly. Breili's own lawyer captured the dynamic bluntly: "You have all these rich people, finance people building in the coastal zone. One has a bigger Goldfish than the other." Whether the owners genuinely did not know what was being filed in their name, or simply did not want to know how Breili worked his magic, became a question the courts never fully resolved.
Økokrim, the national economic crime unit, took over the investigation. Both men were convicted of gross corruption after a legal battle that went through four court rounds, including the Supreme Court. Breili maintained throughout that he had done nothing wrong, calling the free house drawings a "friendly favour" between friends. Even after conviction he told NRK: "I continue to draw the same way. I see no reason to change anything." A second former building department employee was fined for neglect of duty. Breili was separately convicted and sentenced to 90 days in prison for illegal building projects in the coastal zone.
The real scale became clear during the cleanup. Færder municipality, which Tjøme merged into in 2018, began reviewing over 500 building cases from the corruption period. Of the first 150 examined, every single one contained errors. Illegal expansions, unpermitted boathouses, oversized terraces, tennis courts, and swimming pools built without applications turned up across the islands.
The property owners were some of Norway's wealthiest and most prominent people. Clothing company heir Joakim Varner had installed a fuel pump by the sea and expanded his terrace and basement without permits. Hermine Midelfart and Peter Malling were investigated for illegal blasting on their property. Comedian couple Pernille Sørensen and Dagfinn Lyngbø received warnings of fines after their cabin turned out to be double the approved size. In Lyngbø's case, he had signed on as ansvarlig søker himself, meaning he was not just the property owner but directly responsible for what was submitted to the municipality. On one property, a large section of natural rock had been cut away and removed. One cabin that the corrupt building leader himself had started was demolished entirely after his son inherited it and faced enforcement action.
Demolition orders followed, but the wealthy owners had the means to fight back through the courts. The Clauson family, who had bought a property on Brøtsø for over 30 million kroner in 2015, sued Færder municipality for 30 million after losing their building permits. Three construction firms received million-kroner fines. Færder found itself involved in at least five simultaneous court cases. Many cases remain unresolved. The scandal illustrated a pattern repeated along Norway's entire coastline: an area equivalent to 12,000 football pitches has been privatized from the public coastal zone over the past two decades, despite a building ban meant to keep the shore open for everyone.
A word of advice: in Norway, there are few things that bring down the full weight of the state faster than trying to cheat it. The wealthy cabin owners on Tjøme learned this the hard way.
For thirty years, architect Rune Breili was the go-to man for anyone wanting to build or expand a cabin in Tjøme's protected coastal zone. He had a reputation for getting permits through where others could not. The mechanism was elegant in its simplicity. Breili would draw up the full, ambitious plans his wealthy clients wanted, sometimes including staff quarters, tennis courts, and swimming pools. Contractors received quotes based on these real plans. But what Breili actually submitted to the municipality was something entirely different: sanitized versions where major renovations became "facade changes" and expansions shrank to pass scrutiny. The clients saw their dream project. The municipality saw paperwork that looked harmless.
The scheme had a crucial enabler inside the system. Breili had drawn up the plans for the personal house of Harald Svendsen, head of Tjøme's building department, free of charge, a service worth around 50,000 kroner. In return, Svendsen approved Breili's clients' applications, often bypassing the rules meant to protect public access to the shoreline. Neighbour complaints were ignored. In at least one case, downsized plans were submitted to overcome objections, then the original larger design was built anyway.
Under Norwegian building law, the property owner, called the tiltakshaver, must sign and authorize the building application. The architect submits it on their behalf as ansvarlig søker, the responsible applicant. So every one of these doctored applications went to the municipality with the property owner's name and authorization attached to plans they likely never reviewed in detail. The system assumes the professional acts honestly. Breili's own lawyer captured the dynamic bluntly: "You have all these rich people, finance people building in the coastal zone. One has a bigger Goldfish than the other." Whether the owners genuinely did not know what was being filed in their name, or simply did not want to know how Breili worked his magic, became a question the courts never fully resolved.
Økokrim, the national economic crime unit, took over the investigation. Both men were convicted of gross corruption after a legal battle that went through four court rounds, including the Supreme Court. Breili maintained throughout that he had done nothing wrong, calling the free house drawings a "friendly favour" between friends. Even after conviction he told NRK: "I continue to draw the same way. I see no reason to change anything." A second former building department employee was fined for neglect of duty. Breili was separately convicted and sentenced to 90 days in prison for illegal building projects in the coastal zone.
The real scale became clear during the cleanup. Færder municipality, which Tjøme merged into in 2018, began reviewing over 500 building cases from the corruption period. Of the first 150 examined, every single one contained errors. Illegal expansions, unpermitted boathouses, oversized terraces, tennis courts, and swimming pools built without applications turned up across the islands.
The property owners were some of Norway's wealthiest and most prominent people. Clothing company heir Joakim Varner had installed a fuel pump by the sea and expanded his terrace and basement without permits. Hermine Midelfart and Peter Malling were investigated for illegal blasting on their property. Comedian couple Pernille Sørensen and Dagfinn Lyngbø received warnings of fines after their cabin turned out to be double the approved size. In Lyngbø's case, he had signed on as ansvarlig søker himself, meaning he was not just the property owner but directly responsible for what was submitted to the municipality. On one property, a large section of natural rock had been cut away and removed. One cabin that the corrupt building leader himself had started was demolished entirely after his son inherited it and faced enforcement action.
Demolition orders followed, but the wealthy owners had the means to fight back through the courts. The Clauson family, who had bought a property on Brøtsø for over 30 million kroner in 2015, sued Færder municipality for 30 million after losing their building permits. Three construction firms received million-kroner fines. Færder found itself involved in at least five simultaneous court cases. Many cases remain unresolved. The scandal illustrated a pattern repeated along Norway's entire coastline: an area equivalent to 12,000 football pitches has been privatized from the public coastal zone over the past two decades, despite a building ban meant to keep the shore open for everyone.
A word of advice: in Norway, there are few things that bring down the full weight of the state faster than trying to cheat it. The wealthy cabin owners on Tjøme learned this the hard way.
