A mural adorns a wall in Copenhagen’s “free zone” of Christiania. Founded in 1971, the 84-acre enclave is perhaps the largest and longest-lasting commune in history.

Last June the British lifestyle magazine Monocle called Copenhagen “the World’s Most Livable City.” It cited Copenhagen’s “world class design, gastronomy, culture, innovative city planning, and green sustainable lifestyle.” There is not much rotten in Denmark these days, and it’s hard not to love Copenhagen. Bicycles and pedestrians rule the streets, and the human beings mostly look as if they stepped out of a fashion magazine.

But there is another city within Copenhagen—the infamous “free town” of Christiania—and I couldn’t help but wonder how it might rate by *Monocle’*s high-minded, modernist criteria. Christiania is the 84-acre anarchic enclave founded in 1971 when a brigade of young squatters and artists took over an abandoned military base on the edge of town and proclaimed it a “free zone” beyond the reach of Danish law. They christened it Christiania (it’s in the borough called Christianshaven). Christiania is still in full swing with about 900 residents, some of them third generation, and it’s perhaps the largest and longest-lasting commune in history. To enter it you pass under a sign that reads, “You Are Now Leaving the European Union.” The people of Christiania fly their own flag and use their own currency.

I first went to Copenhagen in 1972. The youth movement was in full bloom. Even the soldiers had long hair. When I heard about Christiania, a neighborhood that had just been “liberated” and was now a commune where you could squat for free and do almost anything you liked, I headed right over.

There was a bit of East Village to it all, but the attitude was more determined. Thousands of young Danes—artists, feminists, hippies, anarchists—were turning their back on straight society and had actually conquered a part of town, were holding it, and were living there for free beyond the law. This was heady stuff back then. Christiania even had a mission statement: “to be a self-governing society . . . self-sustaining . . . and aspiring to avert psychological and physical destitution.” The possession of private property was thought to be immoral.

Back then, a walk through Christiania (no cars, of course) was mesmerizing. Everyone was young. There was a lot of hair. I’d seen American hippies, but the ones here were a bit more stylish—chic even—especially the girls, barefoot in their face paint and peasant dresses. People set up stands to sell macrobiotic food and Third World jewelry and beads, but the main attraction was the hashish. If people were not selling it or smoking it, they were bent over busily crumbling it into small pieces, mixing it with tobacco, and rolling joints. Its sweet smell was everywhere.