It was Marcellus who
asserted in the play Hamlet that "something is rotten in the
state of Denmark," but one does not need the acumen of Shakespeare
to discern that things have changed for the worse in the country
that was once a symbol of European philo-Semitism.
As a result, the local Jewish community, which for decades could
boast of the highest comfort level in Europe in terms of its acceptance,
integration and absence of any deep-seated anti-Jewish hostility,
now faces important battles on several fronts, not to mention a
few extremely serious internal problems.
Upon arriving in the center of Copenhagen after an absence of
a few years, one can immediately sense the palpable changes in
the makeup of the population. Lily-white, blond Denmark has absorbed
almost 200,000 Muslim immigrants from south Asia and north Africa
over the past two decades and their physical presence is fairly
pronounced in the streets of the capital; whether it is women and
teenagers with various head-coverings, individuals whose skin color
stands out in comparison to the rest of the local population, or
the numerous fast-food stands selling shishlik and/or shishkebab.
Their arrival and the growing Islamic militancy of segments of
this population have led to a worrying increase in anti-Semitic
incidents in a country in which such incidents were practically
unthinkable a few years ago. Jewish children are often the object
of taunting and harassment by Muslim neighbors and there has been
increasingly strident anti-Zionist rhetoric by local Muslim leaders
in response to events in the Middle East.
Med Ryggen Mod Murren - With our Backs to the Wall - was the name
of a day-long conference on anti-Semitism which I was invited to
address. It reflects the deep angst among local Jews and supporters
of Israel. Held in a hall in Christianborg, the Danish parliament,
the program featured presentations on a wide range of topics related
to contemporary anti-Semitism worldwide, Israel-bashing and Holocaust
denial; but the dominant undercurrent was one of deep concern regarding
the local situation.
TWO FORMER Israelis living in Denmark openly expressed their fears.
Tziyona, who works as a teacher in Copenhagen, and Elisheva, who
lives in Jutland, spoke about their palpable concerns for their
safety. The latter, for example, refuses to allow her teenage daughter
to wear a Magen David necklace, although she herself does. When
I humbly suggested that perhaps the time had come to return "home," she
pointed to her Danish husband as if to say it wouldn't work.
A visit to the local Jewish school (Carolineskolen) only reinforced
the sense of a community under pressure. The obvious security measures
are a given, like practically everywhere else in Europe, but here
in exchanges with the children, one felt their anxiety about prosaic
matters. After a lecture on the life of Simon Wiesenthal (not a
single student knew who he was!) and contemporary efforts to catch
Nazi war criminals, my audience of eighth- and ninth-graders (there
is no high school) were particularly interested in my views on
anti-Semitism.
For them, as their teacher explained to me, this is no longer
an abstract issue, but rather an omnipresent nuisance, if not an
actual physical threat. Just recently some of the children were
accosted by Muslim youths who knew they were Jewish since they
had competed for a Jewish soccer team.
So the threats by Iranian President Ahmadinejad may sound scary,
but the neighborhood Muslim bullies pose much more of an immediate
problem.
On a visit to a friend who lives in the relatively tranquil suburb
of Albertslund, my host, by no means a coward, warned me not to
make eye-contact with a group of Muslim youths hanging out on a
street corner on our way to his home. He also insisted on accompanying
me back to my hotel since "People wearing a kippa are not
necessarily safe these days in the city center."
Although the Jewish community is well-organized and relatively
financially secure, its small numbers make local Jewish life less
than appealing for many of its younger members. Add an extremely
high intermarriage rate on the one hand and the aliya of many of
the more committed Jewish youth raised in Denmark on the other,
and the future of Danish Jewry does not appear very promising.
Or, as Hamlet himself asked in that same country: "To be
or not to be, that is the question."
The writer is Israel director of the Simon Wiesenthal Center
THE
JERUSALEM POST, 6.11.2006
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