One of the world's great monuments is about to be torn down, but most Americans couldn't find it on a map. Less than six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to either.
There is no doubt that Christiania, a filthy, dilapidated sprawling mess of a place in the center of beautiful Copenhagen, Denmark, is a very important monument. A Copenhagen neighborhood overrun by drugs and free thinkers, there are few places like it in the world. However, whether the loss of Pusher Street, home to hashish and hard drugs, is something worth our reverence is open for debate.
My personal experience with Christiania was quite brief, yet very eye opening. My traveling companions and I set off to find the rumored locale on a grim and rainy Saturday in August. Nestled among stylish cobblestone streets and quaint boutiques and shops is a place unlike any I've ever seen.
Worn-down buildings mixed with an unrelenting assortment of overgrown plants and ferns created a stark contrast with the stylish Copenhagen I had grown to love over two short days. The gray skies and constant rainfall made the dirt and gravel paths treacherous to manage. Large signs imploring visitors to put their cameras away and to Say no to hard drugs lined the streets. With each glance, the place looked more miserable.
Christiania's denizens were just waking, some of them setting up shop. One of my companions sampled the wares and reported they were to his satisfaction.
Look at these people
hippies potheads I said to myself, the George W. in me speaking. They ought to raze this hellhole to the ground.
Apparently someone was listening. The Danish government has finally been overtaken by
the same conservative elements that now run things on our side of the pond. The Christiania I saw that bleak Saturday morning will very likely be converted into upscale housing.
But, as I sat and observed life in what I felt was the end of the civilized world, the sun popped through the clouds. People began to come and go, reading their newspapers, talking with friends, enjoying the local, ahem, fineries.
By the time I left my own personal heart of darkness, the whole thing seemed pretty tame.
Christiania represents an interesting social experiment. When groups of social undesirables and hippies took over some old army barracks in 1970, the Danish government decided leaving them alone was better and more progressive than putting a bunch of rather harmless people in prisons.
Christiania, with the help of a hands-off government that provided basic necessities, grew and began to thrive, essentially existing on its own as almost a tiny nation. And, despite what it looked like, normal people live in Christiania, and they too are interested in saving their home. From the looks of things, their hopes are in vain. Sooner than later, though, it will be gone, no longer able to prompt a young man to stop and reconsider.
The success of Christiania is in doubt, as well as its place
in history.
But for the United States, with an administration that refuses to even consider the use of something as tame as marijuana for people seeing their lives slowly blotted out by cancer and that fights a billion-dollar war to limit personal choice, Christiania, warts and all, almost seems like a thing to strive for.
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Kyle Kondik
