Charles Hayes from the March 2009 issue
Pusherstreet isn’t what it used to be. The leading source of retail cannabis in all of Denmark, in one of the largest and oldest anarchic enclaves in all of Europe, is no longer the bustling, friendly spice bazaar of years gone by. There’s a raw, on-the-hunt, bracing vibe here now. Young, shaven-head toughs in drab garb gather around fires in metal barrels, surreptitiously directing the illicit traffic. Mutts wander unleashed, some trained to whisk contraband away in the event of a raid by the politi (police).
Looking out of place in my loafers and sport coat, I step under a crudely rigged tarp canopy and into a makeshift hash stand where wares are displayed on a tree trunk and a wooden barrel, to query the chaps there about the changes the place has undergone. After a couple of minutes, the pusher in chief, who wears a black sweater pulled up over his mouth to hide his identity, grows weary of my questions. “Leave!” he yells with a rasp and shoves me away.
There was a time when hash and skunk were sold here from 40 stalls in an open-air market staffed by knowledgeable hepcats. But that was prior to January 2004, when Copenhagen’s politi, who for years were unofficially indifferent to the trade, finally showed up in huge force to bust it up once and for all. Dozens of local dealers were jailed, soon to be replaced by rival Turkish, Palestinian, and Balkan gangs, among others.
Pusherstreet, originally named to be absolutely upfront and unambiguous about what goes on there, is the commercial heart of the Freetown of Christiania, a scruffy micronation in the Danish capital’s upscale, canal-incised Christianhavn district. This notorious community of utopian rebels, who expropriated the 85-acre former army barracks in 1971, has much more to deal with these days than a crimp in its marijuana business. Christiania is facing both an existential and a property rights crisis, with an aging population of ’60s counterculturalists battling a less tolerant and increasingly antagonistic national government that sees great untapped value in the commune’s waterfront land. The two sides are now facing off in one of the nation’s most momentous court cases.
On September 26, 1971, Jacob Ludvigsen, a young editor at the underground weekly Hovedbladet (Head), raised a guerrilla army of six fellow travelers and invaded a recently abandoned army installation for a photo shoot. In the next weekend’s edition, he proclaimed that the garrison had been overrun and summoned one and all to “emigrate with bus number 8.”
Denmark at the time was between weak Social Democratic governments, and the hippie incursion went largely ignored for several weeks. Ludvigsen declared the walled-off property the “land of the settlers.” The new haven—named Christiania, after the bohemian, pre-1924 Oslo—was soon populated by squatters, ’68ers, artists, theater people, and DIY activists. Their mission statement, co-authored by Ludvigsen, called for a self-governing, self-sustaining community where the individual takes care of the collective.
Ludvigsen didn’t stick around long enough to realize the dream, splitting the scene in early 1972 after being put off by the general lawlessness of the place, the pilfering of the barracks’ plumbing fixtures and the like. Invoking Bob Dylan’s admonition, “To live outside the law, you must be honest,” Ludvigsen tells me today that the requisite honor among thieves wasn’t there yet when he left. (Ludvigsen now lives on Bornholm, an island in the Baltic Sea that he playfully agitates to “liberate” from Danish “colonial” rule.)
Yet enough order managed to congeal that first year for the settlers to negotiate a temporary agreement with Denmark’s Ministry of Defense by which the squatters could continue as a “social experiment,” paying for water, utilities, and upkeep costs. Those who dug in were can-do crafts folk inspired, in part, by the Whole Earth Catalog, the latter-day homesteading manual. A system of self-governance was cobbled together in which most important decisions were made by consensus reached at common meetings held in Den Gra Hal (the Gray Hall), a structure once used for military drills.
Nearly four decades later, issues of tenancy, building maintenance, dispute resolution, and collections for the common purse continue to be handled in monthly meetings for each of the Freetown’s 15 designated areas. There is no real estate market, speculative or otherwise. Change of residence is transaction-free; the right to occupy a given residence is decided by vote.
There are a few prohibitions within Christiania’s confines: no violence, theft, weapons, cars, rocker (biker gang) badges, or hard drugs (everything but cannabis). Enforcement is incumbent on both the individual and the collective; no outside authority is recognized. In the 1980s, following some violent incidents, including a murder, urgent common meetings were called to unite on a policy to expel the Hell’s Angels and later a gang named Bullshit. Bikers were thenceforth banned from the premises and, obligingly, haven’t returned without invitation and without leaving their logo-stitched vests behind. After the overdose deaths of 10 addicts in the late ’70s, the community mobilized to bodily remove heroin users and dealers in the momentous Junk Blockade of 1979–80, successfully prohibiting all drugs but pot and hash ever since; the ban is enforced by the cannabis merchants.
To confront offenders, phone chains are employed to marshal an instant volunteer civil guard, like the waves of unarmed Amish in the film Witness. Knowing that males are more likely to do battle with fellow men, Christiania’s women band together by the dozen in crises to relieve young demonstrators of projectile rocks and bottles.
The 1972 pact with the Defense Ministry, which called for a competition to decide long-term plans for the property, was short-lived. The following year, a new national government came to power, and the Folketing (Parliament) gave Christianites a deadline of April 1, 1976, to vacate the area. When that day dawned sans tanks or troops, the Freetown erupted in an uproarious April Fool’s Day celebration involving some 30,000 revelers. Feeling their oats, the Christianites then sued the state for breach of promise over its failure to hold the promised competition, but the Højesteret (Supreme Court) ultimately ruled against the action in 1978. Through many such cycles of tightening and loosening state pressure, the Freetown has continued to stand defiant.
Today, Christiania is Denmark’s second biggest tourist attraction after Copenhagen’s Tivoli Gardens, attracting hundreds of thousands of visitors a year. The Freetown has become a lucrative brand: Merchants outside the enclave pay royalties to Christiania for the use of its flag (three yellow dots on a red field) on T-shirts and other gear.
Critics of the squat dismiss Christianites as freeloaders, but that isn’t really accurate. No, they don’t pay “rent” per se, as Kristian Lyk-Jensen of the Danish Finance Ministry’s Palaces and Properties Agency repeatedly stresses when I interview him, but they do pay a monthly user fee to the state, upkeep expenses, utilities, municipal taxes, and fees for some social services normally covered by the city. They’ve invested their own funds in the maintenance of the grounds, reconstruction of buildings, and modernization of the sewage system, adding value to the expropriated property.
With music halls and clubs that host such world-class performers as Bob Dylan and Metallica, plus art galleries, a women’s ironworks, a high-class restaurant and bakery, and a bicycle factory, Christianites also have contributed tangible value to Denmark’s culture and commerce. They sponsor a free health clinic staffed by resident doctors, and an annual Christmas dinner for hundreds of the city’s less fortunate. By sheltering and tending to drug addicts, alcoholics, homeless Greenlanders, and unemployable madmen, they save the state millions of kroner in social welfare payments annually.
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In my (extremely limited) experience Christiania is a shitty,
run-down, super sketchy, unpleasant area to be in or near.
If this is a libertarian utopia I need to re-think my
priorities.
Anyway, communal living is hardly a libertarian virtue. If anything it's the antithesis.
Anyway, communal living is hardly a libertarian virtue. If
anything it's the antithesis.
I see nothing anti-libertarian about communal living, provided of
course that it is not forced upon people.
Christiania is an anarcho-syndicalist commune. They take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.
"Libertarian" used to mean individualism and property rights, among other things. How is squatting on a commune "libertarian"? Is the author even making that claim? I'm not convinced.
Meh. I prefer political systems where supreme executive authority is based upon where some watery tart throws a sword.
That's outrageous, Pro L. Strange women lying in ponds, distributing swords, is no basis for a system of government.
ed, I read this a few days ago in the print version, but if I
recall correctly, there are no claims of libertarianism in the
story. Mostly just pointing out that anarchy can function for quite
a while.
In my opinion, anarchy's main instability comes from external, not
internal, forces. And that's why the Danish government finally
messing with them may cause the place to dissolve.
Never visited Christiana while living in Copenhagen. I wonder how many of them receive welfare benefits?
All Utopian Rebel movements are iventually blamed on the writings of Heinlein. Unless they are japanese death cults, then they blame Asimov.
It seems to me that this form of life style is only able to carry on by the constant turnover over of it inhabitants. Sure there are some die-hards that remain but most are probably young idealist who search these places out in the belief they are doing something new only to eventually be disscuraged by the hypocrasy of life style that remains while in actuallity has in a way succomed to forming a non-antarchist political system to survive.
(1) Am I the only one who noted that the viability of this
enclave seems to depend on a de facto monopoly on the sale of
cannabis, apparently a $70 MILLION per year business?
(2) With that kind of revenue or anything resembling it, why
haven't these folks made an offer to acquire real property rights
in this parcel?
(3) "We want to be legal," says Nils Vest, Christiania's press
liaison and unofficial spokesman (the Freetown has no formal
leaders), "with the right to develop our physical community on our
own premises, according to our development plan, and to decide
ourselves who shall be allowed to enter as new residents."
Right of exclusion? Sounds a lot like private property rights to
me. Let's suspend our established property laws so that a bunch of
hippies can impose their own property laws.
(4) "Change of residence is transaction-free; the right to occupy a
given residence is decided by vote." Nothing like a popularity
contest to settle these matters.
Perhaps this would be an ideal home for those courageous idealists recently removed from NYU's Kimmel Center.
I was also amused to learn of their war on non-cannabis drugs. Anarchy with sumptuary laws? Self-serving manipulation of the law in the name of the greater good, a la American oligopolists inserting their lobbyists into the regulatory-legislative process?
punter, why do you fall into the trap of requiring an "anarchic"
society to be perfect? We have few enough recent or modern ones,
and nitpicking at them mercilessly seems kind of useless.
One thing that tired me of discussing anarchy with people was the
constant insistence that I explain how anarchy solved every
problem. Yet at the same time they completely didn't feel the need
to explain why government was ok in not solving every
problem.
Anarchy has to be perfect or it's unacceptable, but government can
fail miserably but it's still the best solution. In fact, more is
better! Those discussions get real old real fast.
Good point, I was referring more to the stars of the tremendous "The Painful Last Minutes of the NYU Kimmel Occupation." I'd just as soon they remained fully closed.
Anarchy has to be perfect or it's unacceptable, but
government can fail miserably but it's still the best solution. In
fact, more is better!
People have limited imaginations and resist change, Epi. It's the
way of the world. If they can't see how something will be better or
even, at a minimum, not worse, they'll fight you all fucking day
and into the night.
I do so, Episiarch, for the same reason I criticize this
country's system of governance, because so many are all too ready
to toss freedom overboard in favor of something seemingly more
exotic or expedient. And they most readily do that with respect to
seemingly unimportant details.
If those who espouse one of the many confused flavors of anarchism
would forever forswear all attempts at exercising their principles,
I would happily desist from criticism and buy one of their neat
T-shirts.
It is imperative for those who prize liberty above many other
perceived societal objectives not to let the sentimental varnish
dry on a fraud like Christiana, an "anarchistic" commune formed
within a homogeneous culture at the sufferance of a government that
muscles out the competition in the drug industry. This hot house
anarchy seems all to capable of formulating its own set of
arbitrary laws that ultimately leave its residents less free in
many regards.
My libertarian paradise is my own private fortress, with an electrified fence, guard dogs, and watchtowers with snipers with orders to shoot all trespassers.
punter, I hear what you're saying, but my view is that
Christiania is a quasi-anarchistic society that hasn't devolved
into chaos and violence.
It therefore has, at least to me, some value in asserting that
anarchistic societies can work.
Is it truly anarchistic? Obviously not. But it's still partway
there.
Progressives are going to have to sort out their messages on
this stuff. Isn't this the "democratization of property
rights?"
If the representative government thinks it could better server the
larger community to do...something else with the property, then
that's the progressive vision, no? Or does "democratization of
property rights" have some unintended, decidedly unprogressive
consequences?
"with the right to develop our physical community on our own premises, according to our development plan, and to decide ourselves who shall be allowed to enter as new residents."
Hmmm.
Hmmmmmmmm....
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...
Well I have to hand it to them, that's certainly libertarian but
yet decidedly unprogressive. A gated community in which the
residents can discriminate in who they allow to live there. Very
interesting.
This strikes me as being as about anarchistic as a gated
suburban community or a rent-controlled co-op apartment building,
except that it has a monopoly on selling weed. In fact, a gated
suburban community or a rent-controlled co-op apartment building
may possess a greater degree of independence from the
municipalities in which they're located than Christiana does. All
of the language of the Christiana residents points to underlying
notions of ownership and the state-protected rights attendant
thereto.
I enjoy a good discussion of the merits of anarchy as much as the
next libertarian, but I don't think this is a particularly good
example.
"Isn't this the 'democratization of property rights?'"
Not to sound dense, but wtf does "democratizing property rights"
even mean?
I enjoy a good discussion of the merits of anarchy as much
as the next libertarian, but I don't think this is a particularly
good example.
There are so few examples out there that I'm inclined to take them
as I can.
In my opinion, anarchy's main instability comes from
external, not internal, forces. And that's why the Danish
government finally messing with them may cause the place to
dissolve.
In this case, I suspect that their local "anarcho-commune" has
survived this long precisely because it is embedded in a society
with enforceable laws and mores.
Anarchy contains plenty of internal destabilizing potentials, few
of which can gain any traction in a micro-society embedded in a
larger, more stable, society of laws.
But individual rights are also embraced. Freedom of expression, even for extremists, is enshrined in law.
Are they? How about freedom to smoke weed, or put drugs in general
into your body? No? Property rights?
I think once again we have a society which has freedom of
expression, but little else. For instance, in the U.S., there's a
reason Freedom of Expression is in the first amendment, and the
right to bear arms is in the second.
Not to sound dense, but wtf does "democratizing property
rights" even mean?
Economist, a term which got bounced around a lot by progressives
during the Kelo case.
In this case, I suspect that their local "anarcho-commune" has
survived this long precisely because it is embedded in a society
with enforceable laws and mores.
RC,
That's obvious on its face. For instance, to protect itself, and to
raise capital, the community files suits in Danish courts, is heard
by Danish judges, and relies on copyright law for royalty payments
on the use of the flag logo.
VM,
Yes, how is it that you are silent on Christiania? You were king of
it once, weren't you?
Hey VM, I was living in Lyngby, so I should have said Storkøbenhavn I guess. I was there in 2005/2006 before I got transferred to the UK. I'd like to return actually. Though nice as Lyngby is, somewhere with a good bar open past 5pm might be preferable next time. ;-)
"I enjoy a good discussion of the merits of anarchy as much as
the next libertarian, but I don't think this is a particularly good
example.
There are so few examples out there that I'm inclined to take them
as I can."
I don't know if I even consider this an example at all.
"If the Freetown's cause is lost in the courts, the city could
see hundreds of thousands of civil libertarians marching to save
Christiania."
It's a good thing all those would-be marchers got plenty of
marching practice in connection with the Jyllands-Posten cartoon
affair. Oh. Wait. Nevermind.
"There was a time when hash and skunk were sold here from 40
stalls in an open-air market staffed by knowledgeable hepcats. But
that was prior to January 2004, when Copenhagen's politi, who for
years were unofficially indifferent to the trade, finally showed up
in huge force to bust it up once and for all."
Actually the real problems started when Leonardo DiCaprio made an
extra copy of that map.
Very interesting article, and a useful update on the
ever-changing political situation there (which is not widely
reported). I lived in Denmark (Copenhagen+Lyngby) for over 15
years, starting in the early 80's (when Christiana was a shit-heap,
with no working public toilets, and the "bars" where guys with a
case of beer and a chair) and ending in 2000 (when Christiana had
reached accomodation with the government forces, and had achieved
some legitmacy -- and the toilets worked). It seems that things may
have reverted to shit-heap status (though I'm sure the toilets are
still maintained).
Danes have always been conflicted about Christiana, with most
respecting the right of people to live as they choose, and a few
resenting what they perceive to be the "free ride" the
Christianites get (both the tolerance and the resentment of unfair
priveleges are very much a part of the Danish psyche). Until I left
in 2000, there seemed to be a balance between the forces to crush
the horrible plauge of aging hippies, and the recognition that
Christiana was a very useful safety valve for both the soft-drug
trade and the legions of half-crazed
druggies/artists/ne'er-do-wells and drunken Greenlanders that would
otherwise hang-out in the city. Starting in 2004, it seems, the
mission to kill Christiana was taken up in earnest (driven mostly
by the greed of those who would like to develop this incredibly
prime piece of inner-city real-estate).
I was acquainted with several residents of Christiana (though none
of them denizens of Pusher Street). They ranged from artists to
lawyers, and were to a man/woman intensly interesting individuals.
Christiana itself was the site of two of the best music venues in
Copehagen (Lopen and Den Graa Hall) as well as a fantastic
traditional Danish eatery (Spise Lopen). The drug-trade was mostly
isolated to Pusher Street, with a carnivale atmosphere, thriving
with market forces (more selection than even the biggest of Danish
fish markets). There were occasional clashes with the police, but
the biker-gangs and other criminal influences were kept out, and it
was ultimately a safe place to go.
All they have succeded in doing, apparently, is to drive the drug
trade out to the surrounding streets, and mix the hard- with the
soft-drugs. Yay!
I am sadened to read of the decline of Christiana. Perhaps the
Danes will come to their senses before it is to late and the place
is turned into condominiums. We'll see.
grant..
grant's post is why I love the intertubes - there's no substitute for a native guide.
fantastic traditional Danish eatery
All those words...together, in one sentence. One marvels.
Grant, interesting post. But I have to ask:
I'm comparing "for over 15 years, starting in the early 80's
(when Christiana was a shit-heap, with no working public toilets,
and the "bars" where guys with a case of beer and a
chair)"
with "I am sadened to read of the decline of
Christiana."
So which is it, is it declining back to where it was in your first
sentence, or by 'decline' are you referring to its endangered
status?
"fantastic traditional Danish eatery"
All those words...together, in one sentence. One
marvels.
Well Paul, I won't leap to the defence of "traditional Danish
eateries", as I realize to many this conjures up images of
over-cooked root-vegetables and sauces based on
Kulor (which appears to be black ink and has
similar gustatory properties). However, the Danes do have a fine
tradition of simple pub-fare, including Friske Rejer
(fresh shrimp with toast , mayonaise, and dill), Pariser
Boef (a large, rare, beef patty with pickles and raw egg
yolk), and so on. Spise Lopen does a very good job of properly
grilling larger cuts of meat, well prepared potatoes, and even
knows how to serve up a tasty salad of simple greens. Plus, the
serving staff are all stoned (and thus friendlier than the usual
surly Danish waiters), but also are professional stoners,
spending most of their day in that state, thus avoiding the common
problem of losing track of what they are doing.
So which is it, is it declining back to where it was in your
first sentence, or by 'decline' are you referring to its endangered
status?
To clarify: Christiana seemed to have been on a generally rising
trajectory from the early 80's up to 2000 when I left. Civilization
was beginning to make inroads, in the form of public toilets, and
espresso machines in the bars. The hard-core addicts had been
kicked out, and the criminal element kept in the background. Pusher
Street had gradually turned into a quite sanitary soft-drug
supermarket, and it was quite possible to go there for a concert
and not have your bike stolen (though admitedly I did use a
NY-style U-lock). Not to say the place was a commercial mall. You'd
see random drunken Greenlanders collapsed on the road, and dogs
doing it in the corner of the bar. But people with children lived
there, and it was really quite beautiful, in a semi-squalorous,
free-love kind of way.
Since 2004, by all reports, much of that progress has been lost.
The Pusher Street open-air market has been broken up. Streets have
been named and given "proper" signs. And they're trying to enforce
building codes (the UFO-house and the Whale-house are probably gone
now).
There really wasn't any other place in Europe to compare with
Christiana as far as sanctioned social experiments in
psuedo-anarchy. It was charming, gritty, naive, and stubborn. Too
bad it was founded on such valuable land..
I lived in Copenhagen for 4 months last year, and I thought
Christiania was the most interesting location in the entire city.
It's easy for other American libertarians to say "Oh that's not
very libertarian at all," but you don't know what the rest of
Danish society is like. Christiania has, without a doubt in my
mind, the freest economy in Denmark. The creativity and tenacity I
saw the resident display was truly impressive, especially compared
to what I saw as the bland homogeneity and suffocating bureaucracy
of the rest of the country. While I'm no fan of communes, I would
take Christiania's diversity and non-coercive social structure over
the proper Danish government any day.
And don't count on Christiania disappearing any time soon. The
government has never been able to get rid of it before, and I doubt
they'll manage it this time either. Last I saw the free town, it
was full of life.
¨Lillesøe is theatrical and maternal, a night owl tending to the
needs of her chicks in the wee hours¨
Huh? This sentence alone condemns the author to a life of being a
complete and utter douchebag.
I don't think the main target of the criticism here is the
phenomenon of Christiana, but the attempts to shoehorn it into an
evaluation of anarchism or to hold it out as a model for enhanced
freedom.
Grant sums it up nicely: "There really wasn't any other place in
Europe to compare with Christiana as far as sanctioned social
experiments in psuedo-anarchy. It was charming, gritty, naive, and
stubborn. Too bad it was founded on such valuable land.."
Christiana is to anarchy what the bumper cars are to urban traffic.
The bumper cars are fun--even a bit anarchic--but I haven't learned
any lessons from driving a bumper car that I would be tempted to
apply to my day-to-day driving experience, never mind the tasks of
civil engineering or legislating the rules of the road.
Great article on a really interesting topic! When I visited Copenhagen over Christmas, it was surreal to walk through Christiania. The area would have been well suited as a movie set. The bright colors, chaos, and creativity starkly contrasted to the somber rest of Copenhagen.
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