Getting a Finnish Personal Identity Code

There’s a moment, early in your life as an expat in Finland, when you realise that a single string of numbers and a letter controls your entire existence. That string is your henkilötunnus — your Finnish personal identity code — and without it, you are essentially a ghost wandering around a very well-organised Nordic country.

I learned this the hard way during my first week in Helsinki, when I tried to do approximately seven normal things and was told “no” to all of them because I didn’t have my henkilötunnus yet.

What Is a Henkilötunnus?

The henkilötunnus (often shortened to hetu) is Finland’s personal identity code. Every Finnish citizen gets one at birth, and every foreign resident needs one to function in the country. It’s a short code — your date of birth followed by a separator character and a few digits plus a check character. Simple, elegant, and utterly essential.

Think of it as a combination of your National Insurance number, NHS number, and proof of existence all rolled into one. The Digital and Population Data Services Agency (DVV) manages the system, and they’re the ones who’ll issue your code when you register.

Why You Need It for Everything

I’m not exaggerating when I say everything. Here’s an incomplete list of things I couldn’t do without my henkilötunnus:

• Open a bank account
• Get a Finnish phone contract
• Register with a health centre
• Get a library card (this one hurt)
• Sign up for most online services
• Access public healthcare
• Get a tax card
• Rent a flat through any normal channel

During my first week, I tried to open a bank account. “Do you have your henkilötunnus?” No. “Then I’m sorry, we cannot proceed.” I tried to get a phone plan. Same question, same answer. I tried to register at a health centre. You can guess how that went.

I spent my first two weeks in Finland using a British bank card with international fees, a pay-as-you-go tourist SIM, and a growing sense that I didn’t technically exist. It was like being a very confused ghost who still had to pay rent.

The Registration Process

Here’s the good news: as an EU citizen (well, former EU citizen — thanks, Brexit — but I had my residence sorted), the process was straightforward. Slow, but straightforward.

The first step is registering your right of residence, which as a worker I did through the Finnish Immigration Service (Migri). Once that was sorted, I needed to register my domicile with DVV. This is what actually gets you into the population information system and assigns your henkilötunnus.

I booked an appointment at the DVV service point in Helsinki. The DVV website walks you through what documents you need — typically your passport, your employment contract or other proof of why you’re in Finland, and proof of accommodation. For EU citizens, you also need your EU registration certificate.

The appointment itself was remarkably painless. I’d been bracing for the kind of bureaucratic ordeal you hear horror stories about — long waits, missing forms, being sent away to come back with some document you’ve never heard of. None of that happened. I showed up on time, handed over my papers, answered a few questions, and was told my henkilötunnus would be sent to me by post.

The whole thing took about twenty minutes. I’ve had longer waits for a sandwich.

The Wait

The actual code arrived in the post about a week later. A plain envelope from DVV containing a letter with my new identity code printed on it. Anticlimactic, really. I’d expected a ceremony, or at least a certificate. Maybe a small Finnish flag. Instead, a piece of A4 paper.

But the moment that code was in my hands, Finland opened up. Within two days, I had a bank account, a phone contract, and a health centre registration. The library card followed that weekend. It was like being granted access to a secret society where the initiation rite is waiting patiently for government mail.

Tips From the Trenches

A few things I wish I’d known:

Book your DVV appointment as early as possible. Like, before you even arrive in Finland if you can. Appointment slots fill up, and every day without your henkilötunnus is a day of minor inconveniences stacking up into major frustration.

Bring every document you might conceivably need. I brought my passport, employment contract, rental agreement, EU registration, university degree, birth certificate, and probably my Year 6 swimming certificate. Better to have too much than too little.

The DVV staff speak English. I was nervous about the language barrier, but everyone I dealt with spoke perfectly good English and was genuinely helpful. Finnish bureaucracy gets a bad reputation, but my experience was efficient and professional.

Get a temporary bank account if you can. Some banks, like Holvi or N26, operate in Finland and might let you open an account without a henkilötunnus. This can bridge the gap while you wait. I didn’t know this at the time and wish I had.

Your henkilötunnus is sensitive information. Treat it like you’d treat your National Insurance number. Don’t share it casually. You’ll need it constantly, but be thoughtful about where you enter it online.

The Bigger Picture

Getting my henkilötunnus was, in practical terms, the most important thing I did in my first month in Finland. More important than finding a flat, learning to say “kiitos,” or figuring out which bus went where. Because without it, none of those other things would have been possible — or at least, they’d have been ten times harder.

It’s also a window into how Finland works as a society. Everything is connected through this one system. Healthcare, taxes, banking, voting, library access — it all ties back to your identity code. There’s something elegant about it, even if the initial period of not having one feels like wandering around a party where everyone knows each other and you’re the bloke who showed up without an invitation.

A Word for Non-EU Citizens

I should note that my experience as a British citizen with the right to work was relatively smooth. If you’re coming from outside the EU, the process can be more complex and the wait times longer. Residence permits through Migri need to be sorted first, and the documentation requirements may be more extensive. Give yourself plenty of time and start the paperwork early.

The henkilötunnus will come. And when it does, you’ll feel something shift. You go from visitor to resident. From tourist to person who lives here. It’s just a number, technically. But it means you belong — or at least, that the system acknowledges you do.

And in Finland, where systems work properly and everyone trusts the infrastructure, that matters more than you’d think.