A-Infos (en) Denmark, Copenhagen, The story of Ungdomshuset squat, by the anarchist troubadour David Rovics

There are certain things that jump out at you as soon as you arrive in 
Denmark. One thing you’ll notice, especially if you come from a place 
within that large mass of the world that is at least a bit closer to the 
equator, is that there is rarely anything you’d call direct sunlight. 
It’s twilight most of the time. In the summer it’s only really dark for 
an hour or so, but it’s never completely light, either. In the winter 
it’s dark most of the time, and the darkness is often accompanied by a 
cold, light rain. You’ll also quickly notice that there are far more 
people with blond hair and blue eyes per capita than just about anywhere 
else you’re likely to have been, and at any given time, a vast number of 
them are riding bicycles. All the cities feature elegant networks of 
bike paths and lots of pedestrian-only streets. The country is largely 
designed for use by bicycle, train and foot, and most people think this 
is as it should be. There is universal health care and higher education, 
and every Dane I’ve ever met thinks that this is self-evidently a good 
thing.

While Denmark may be an easy place to be a social democrat, it’s 
different if you’re an anarchist squatter. If you reject the notion of 
private property you are outside of the social contract. If you think 
that when a building is abandoned and empty, people have the right to 
move into it and make use of it regardless of what individual or 
corporate entity officially owns it, you are a pariah to be vilified, 
violently opposed, or bought off, whatever works.

It’s early December, 2006, and along with the scant sunlight and the 
blonds on bicycles, another thing becomes quickly apparent. Some people 
have been hard at work with large posters and cans of wheatpaste, and 
the city of Copenhagen has been blanketed with a picture of somebody’s 
fist and the words “Ungdomshuset – the Final Battle.” Below that are 
more specific bits of information – the Final Battle is taking place 
between December 13th-17th, and so on. Tattooed on the fist are the 
numbers “69” for 69 Jagtvej, the address of Ungdomshuset. Ungdomshuset 
means Youth House – using really literal names like this is very common 
in Scandinavia.

The Final Battle may not make the news in most of the world, but in 
Denmark it will be material for headlines. Ungomshuset is the last 
anarchist-run, squatted social center in Denmark outside of Christiania, 
and an institute of iconic significance throughout Scandinavia. I’m on a 
tour of Sweden, Norway and Denmark, and in every city I visit it’s easy 
to find posters alerting people to the Final Battle, encouraging 
everybody to get on the buses that will be headed to Ungdomshuset from 
Oslo, Trondheim and even as far away as Moscow, rumor has it.

The 1980’s was the heyday of the autonomous movement in Denmark, Germany 
and elsewhere in Europe. Thousands of mostly young people squatted 
hundreds of abandoned buildings in dozens of urban centers, creating 
alternative societies that embraced community, art, music, and a culture 
of resistance that rejected consumerism and empire. A community was 
formed that rejected the domination of the world by multinational 
corporations and the governments that supported them, whether they be 
outright militarist states like the US or more watered-down NATO members 
like Denmark. They defended their squats in pitched battles with police, 
and at the same time debated sexism within their movement and organized 
protests in support of refugees and against nuclear power. The movement 
existed in a near-constant state of siege. Many squats were ultimately 
taken by force by the police, and others were legalized.

Not far from Ungdomshuset is Bumzen, one of the now-legal former squats, 
which still has the dynamic atmosphere of a squat, with residents 
constantly making artistic and structural improvements to the 5-story 
building in which they live. Most of the residents are actively involved 
with day-to-day life in Ungdomshuset. They run Ungomshuset’s infoshop, 
sell beer behind the bar, organize concerts in one of several 
performance spaces, use one of the many rooms on the upper floors as 
rehearsal spaces for bands or rooms for holding workshops, meetings, 
film screenings. They cook vegan meals for the community using the 
massive pots and pans in the kitchen.

I remember one of the first times I played a concert at Ungdomshuset. 
There I was in the bar surrounded by black flags with skulls and 
crossbones, and people of all ages, but mostly in their 20’s, mostly 
dressed in black, except for the glittering silver of nose rings, lip 
rings, eyebrow rings and other various facial piercings. There were 
probably a hundred people in the room, most of whom listened to a lot 
more punk rock than acoustic folk. It was a standing room-only 
situation, but when I started playing there was silence in the room, and 
everybody was listening to every word.

Everybody in Denmark learns English in school from an early age, but 
there are still various levels of English fluency. Nearly all the 
anarchists of Copenhagen speak English extremely well, and often a 
couple other languages to boot. They are a highly educated, 
well-traveled bunch, as accustomed to discussing World Bank policy or 
the history of Spain as they are to defending themselves against 
marauding police. The peak moment of the autonomous movement in Denmark 
may be in the past, but to hang around Ungdomshuset you get the distinct 
feeling that you are in the center of a movement that is far from 
waning. You get the feeling you are in the midst of a force of nature, a 
militant but thoughtful phenomenon with a collective sense of itself.

I played that show years ago, and some of the folks from behind the bar 
took me to Bumzen a few blocks away, where they put me up for several 
days. They showed me to my penthouse suite, a sort of attic space with a 
little porch overlooking much of the Norrebro neighborhood. Before I 
climbed the ladder that led to my little room I was handed a clean duvet 
for my bed, a lamp, an alarm clock and a bag of pot. (They had 
ascertained I was a hippie and correctly surmised I would appreciate 
such a thing.) Looking around my attic apartment, on the little porch 
overlooking the street far below, lit up by the moon there was a large 
box full of empty bottles. Bumzen may at that point have become legal, 
but there was still the problem of the occasional gang of Nazis, who 
don’t like immigrants or anarchists, and it’s important to be prepared.

Now in the last month of 2006 and back at Ungdomshuset, I’m about to 
play another concert. The place is bustling even more than usual. Adam, 
a member of the collective, asks me if I want a tour of the place. I’m 
tired from hours of driving and not thinking clearly, and I ask him if 
anything’s new since the last time I was there. “The barricade-builders 
have been hard at work,” he replies.

Ah yes, it’s the beginning of the month, and for some weeks now the 
community has been in high gear. The battles in and out of court have 
apparently been lost, and this squat that has been a flourishing social 
center for 25 years is facing it’s biggest challenge. In a bizarre 
twist, a rightwing Christian sect called Faderhuset (Father House) has 
bought the historic building with the intention of destroying it. The 
leadership of this sect seems as intent on levelling this well-known 
anarchist center as it is intent on making money in the real estate market.

The 5-story building that is now Ungdomshuset was built in 1897 by the 
Danish labor movement, and was for many decades known as Folkets Huset 
(People’s House). VI Lenin spoke there before he launched the Russian 
Revolution. The Second International took place there. From that house 
the first International Women’s Day was declared. It fell into disrepair 
in the late 70’s. A supermarket chain bought it, wanted to level it and 
turn it into another supermarket, but the city wouldn’t allow the 
destruction of the historic building. When it was squatted by the 
anarchist youth and declared Ungdomshuset in 1982, the city eventually 
decided to let them keep it, but there has always been contention over 
this, and over who was the official owner of the building.

For the first time since the building was squatted, a majority of the 
Copenhagen city council is in favor of the house staying, but they say 
there’s nothing that they can do, it’s owned now by Faderhuset and 
property law is property law. Half the well-known bands in Denmark, it 
seems, are playing shows in the house during the first half of December, 
and lots of prominent artists and other public figures are speaking out 
in support of the Youth House. “Ungdomshuset blir” – Ungdomshuset stays 
– has become the rallying cry for all self-respecting leftwingers in 
Denmark. Anarchist youth have organized many protests in recent months 
that have been met with wanton police brutality. Some of the brutality 
has made national news, but the protests and the brutality continue 
unabated.

Politicians have tried to negotiate with Faderhuset to sell the building 
to a leftwing foundation that would then give it to the youth, but there 
is no negotiating with this Christian sect. At the same time as the 
negotiations are happening, the government is preparing it’s armed 
assault on Ungdomshuset. Rumors are flying, and one of them is that the 
police force that will attack the house will be comprised entirely of 
volunteers – cops who really like the idea of beating up punk kids.

Inside Ungdomshuset, preparations for the defense of the building are 
making it look more like a medieval castle with each passing day. Two of 
the most talented barricade-builders were arrested at the last protest 
at the headquarters of Faderhuset, and are both facing deportation to 
North America. Massive beams of wood reinforced by steel are blocking 
doorways and windows, and if one defense is breached there is another 
beyond it. I’m reminded of other heavily-armored buildings I’ve been to, 
like when I had to go to the US embassy in London to get a new passport, 
or when I visited Sinn Fein’s headquarters in Dublin.

In past assaults, the police have gone onto the roof or, using cranes, 
through the second-floor windows, rather than attempting to ram through 
the formidable barricades on the ground floor. There are too many 
windows to turn the entire building into the kind of fortress the ground 
floor has become, but no effort is being spared to do just that. The 
upper-story windows from which you could once look out at the 
neighborhood are now completely barricaded, and the only light that 
shines within Ungdomshuset now is artificial.

The most famous rock band in Danish history, a leftwing band that has 
been putting out great music since the 60’s, Savage Rose, will play at 
Ungdomshuset on December 13th. By then, thousands of supporters of the 
Youth House from all over Scandinavia, Germany and elsewhere in Europe 
will have arrived in Copenhagen. On the 14th there will be a protest 
outside City Hall. The 15th is the date the city set for the youth to 
vacate the premises. But with posters all over Scandinavia alerting all 
to the Final Battle, the city has changed it’s mind, and is now saying 
that they will set the date when the house must be vacated later.

Later, after the Youth House’s supporters have gone back to their 
countries of origin. Later, probably later at night, probably at 4 
o’clock on a Monday morning, after the previous evening’s activities are 
long over, when the only people up are the few dedicated collective 
members on guard duty. Perhaps the barricades will hold off the police 
long enough for a call to go out to supporters across the city, in time 
for them to watch the building get stormed by 300 heavily-armed riot 
police backed by battering rams, cranes and helicopters.

But history has not been written yet, last-minute compromises have been 
made in the past, and support for the Youth House within Danish society 
is steadily growing as the days go on. The unions have said that they 
will not work under conditions that call for police protection. Without 
them Faderhuset would have to try to find sufficient scab labor to 
demolish the house and build something new in it’s place. No small feat 
in a country where the vast majority of workers are unionized.

The Final Battle will probably come in one form or another, and how the 
dance between the autonomous youth, the authorities, and civil society 
will play out is yet to be seen. Whatever happens, though, the Danish 
media will be covering it, and the international media will ignore it. 
For the rest of the world, there is no Danish autonomous youth movement. 
For the rest of the world, Denmark will continue to be the mild-mannered 
social democracy with blonds on bicycles who all have cradle-to-grave 
health insurance, where it is always twilight. Not a country where 
state-sponsored vigilantes smash through the windows of community 
centers to go and systematically pulverize children with clubs.
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