In 2005 a Christianite was murdered by a gang member, a byproduct of the battle to re-establish Christianite control in the vacuum created by the government's anti-drug crackdown.
A former Christianite who participated in the Junk Blockade, risking death at the hands of gun-toting heroin dealers, Smidi has just returned to Denmark.
The following year, a new national government came to power, and the Folketing (Parliament) gave Christianites a deadline of April 1, 1976, to vacate the area.
Critics of the squat dismiss Christianites as freeloaders, but that isn't really accurate.
With music halls and clubs that host such world-class performers as Bob Dylan and Metallica, plus art galleries, a women's ironworks, a high-class restaurant and bakery, and a bicycle factory, Christianites also have contributed tangible value to Denmark's culture and commerce.
But the fact that Christianites have engaged in a series of formal agreements with the state since 1972 (regarding taxes, expenses, and the like), would seem to preclude this right by contradicting the purportedly "adverse" nature of the occupation.
Only a portion of the post-1971 structures would be razed, to make way for the state's plan to restore the ramparts to their original 17th century condition, while the rest of Christiania's residences would be sold by the government (still its legal owner) at a modest, below-market rate to the philanthropic investor-developer Realdania, which would then lease the properties at far-below-market rates to Christiania residents via a housing foundation on whose board Christianites would have the majority vote.
Each of the three negotiators who devised this deal, including Foldschack, expected the Christianites to accept.
Vest snorts at the widely held notion that Christianites need to follow the law like every other Dane.
With charges of usurping government property constantly hanging over their heads, you would think the Christianites might not risk expulsion by openly distributing illegal drugs.