Where freedom is another word for a whole lot left to lose

"The Clown Army has been on the march only since the summer of 2005, but already the state it protects is in imminent peril - Christiania, a 34-hectare, 35-year-old experiment in communal life, the self-governing freetown in the heart of Denmark's capital.
Grease-painted and red-nosed, in jumpsuits of the same vivid reds and yellows as Christiania's flag, the Clown Army has repeatedly taken to the streets of Copenhagen with horns blaring and drums a-tapping in symbolic defence of its homeland, especially in protest against the frequent police raids.
But despite its best efforts, it becomes an army-in-exile at midnight tonight - because, officially today was the final day of the freetown. On Jan 1, the roughly 900 members of the collective, the neighbourhood's fundamental organizing entity, become individuals under a Danish law passed in 2004.
"Its our whole life and our whole way of living they want to attack," says Peter Plett, who has lived in the freetown since its founding. Christiania might be the last gasp of 1960s-style idealism, or it might be the final unincorporated corner of consumerist West - or both - but it is, at any rate, the last stand of a certain kind of freedom. Its passing would not be incidental.
The new law is one of a host of ways that Denmark's centre-right coalition government has deviated sharply from the orderly social democracy that has characterized Scandinavian politics for the past 50 years. Since it swept to power on a wave of anti-immigration sentiment after Sept. 11, 2001, the regime has moved issues of nationalism and the rule of law to the centre of Danish politics, and the room of oddities like Christiania has shrunk dramatically.
"They will kill the idea of Christiania," says Mr. Plett, who serves in a negociating group meeting with the government to discuss the implimentation of the new law.
Bulldozers may not arrive at dawn to demolish the couple of dozen homes that have been ruled illegal - Christianites have a year to come into compliance.
But there is a sense that something irreplaceble soon will be lost. The phrase "anarchist commune" - evoking ramshackle crash pads and short-lived country encampments - can't account for the elaborate, enduring structure and broad scope of the Christiania experiment.
Here, a short walk from the heart of one of Europe's most obsessively orderly capitals, lies a sprawling warren of funky loft apartments and eclectic, handmade showpiece homes, but no private property. A functioning urban neighbourhood that - but for the most basic of services like water and power - regulates everything from its commerce to its recycling via public meetings, citizens' committees, and direct democracy. A truly communal, all-but-lawless, free city.
Was it inevitable, then, that the order it so openly challenged would eventually demand the last word on its fate?"










