Danish ironies

Few have asked what a bat mitzva had to do with freedom of speech.

Ambassador Ron Dermer (right of center) speaks to members of Congress during Israel’s Operation Protective Edge against Hamas in Gaza, July 11, 2014. (photo credit: FABIAN BIMMER / REUTERS)
Ambassador Ron Dermer (right of center) speaks to members of Congress during Israel’s Operation Protective Edge against Hamas in Gaza, July 11, 2014.
(photo credit: FABIAN BIMMER / REUTERS)
KRYSTALGADE (Crystal Street) is a quiet side street only a few hundred meters from Copenhagen’s famous, teeming pedestrian mall.
Walking along Krystalgade, a stranger would be most unlikely to notice Denmark’s biggest synagogue. No marble portals, no bombastic facade; not a Magen David, not a menora, not an Israeli flag to be seen.
The shul is all but hidden behind a high fence and a metal gate. But if one looks closely enough, one might just discern a young man in civilian clothes wearing a kippa. He would discreetly ask you your business if you asked to enter the building.
It was just such a man, Dan Uzan, who was murdered here in the early morning of February 15 when a terrorist attempted to enter the premises. The Copenhagen killings began 10 hours earlier, when the gunman attacked the Krudttønden café during a debate featuring the controversial Swedish artist Lars Vilks, who had depicted the prophet Muhammad in cartoons. Uzan was not defending freedom of speech, he was merely trying to provide security for a bat mitzva celebration.
The anonymity of the shul is symbolic of the anonymity of the Jews in Denmark. The small community of about 6,000 constitutes only 0.12 percent of the population. Perhaps it is because of this very anonymity that Jews have thrived here since the middle of the 17th century. Many have achieved renown, especially in the fields of science, journalism and the arts: the Nobel Prize-winning physicist, Niels Bohr and the Oscar-winning film director, Susanne Bier, to name but two.
Danes seem to like their Jews. They famously saved most of their Jewish compatriots from Nazi extermination during World War II. When one mentions that one is Jewish in Denmark, one is often greeted with a proud remark such as ‘’ I too have Jewish blood in my veins!’’ even when that blood has been diluted by generations of intermarriage.
In contrast, Denmark is home to about a quarter of a million Muslims.
Many of them have arrived here over the past 30 years as refugees seeking asylum from political oppression. Most of them thrive here, as the Jews have, peacefully taking part in public life and exercising their democratic rights. But anti-Israel sentiment, exacerbated by the Gaza conflicts, has increased dramatically in recent years. As in the rest of the world, this abhorrence of Israel, in the end, manifests itself as anti-Semitism.
The alleged perpetrator of the terror was apprehended and shot outside an apartment near Vesterbro, an inner-city Copenhagen quarter heavily populated by citizens of Muslim background. Jews rarely venture here, especially not when displaying symbols of their Jewishness, for they might risk verbal abuse or even physical violence.
One of Denmark’s best known and highly acclaimed journalists and talk-show hosts is Martin Krasnik, a Jew. Provoked by the rise in anti- Semitism in recent months, he broke the mold of Jewish anonymity by publishing a book about, among other issues, his experiences as a Jew in Denmark. The title of the book is “Fucking Jew.” Ironic then, that some of those who themselves have fled from political oppression, despotism and anarchy see fit to express their disapproval by violently attacking others’ democratic rights.
The first terror attack at the Krudttønden café occurred during a debate on the tenuous borders between blasphemy and freedom of expression. The gunman expressed his views on the subject by killing a civilian and wounding three policemen. An imam in Denmark’s second largest city, Aarhus, recently remarked that he does not believe in democracy but cynically claimed his democratic right to make vituperative and inflammatory statements against Jews.
Commentators were quick to point out the similarity of the attacks in Copenhagen to the attacks in Paris in early January: a bloody protest against freedom of expression followed by random killings at a Jewish supermarket.
Stretching one’s tolerance to the extreme, one might vaguely understand why such a person could so violently oppose criticism of his religion but it is impossible to comprehend why he should add, as a cynical appendix, an attack on a Jewish institution. Is he thereby implying that the Jews of Denmark are responsible for the satirical cartoons drawn by Christian Danes and published by secular Danish newspapers? Many commentators on the Copenhagen events have expressed their revulsion of the deed and reiterate Denmark’s right to freedom of speech but very few of them have asked what the bat mitzva in Krystalgade had to do with freedom of speech.
The events are full of ironic coincidences. The initial attack took place at a café called Krudttønden, which means powder keg. The second attack occurred in Krystalgade, which evokes memories of Kristallnacht. And most ironic of all, in the 1600s, before it became known as Crystal Street, Krystalgade was called Skidenstræde, Shit Street.
One only hopes that the future of Danish Jews is allowed to remain as it has been throughout most of its history, beautiful as crystal, rather than its becoming reminiscent of the street’s earlier incarnation.