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By Julian Isherwood
BBC News, Copenhagen
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"We stay" reads the sign falling from the roof of the Ungdomshuset
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As Danes view the drab rubble of what was once a vibrant youth centre few applaud the decision to demolish a hotbed of creative youth culture.
But even fewer condone the organised outrage of youths that left parts of Copenhagen resembling a war zone.
"This was our refuge," said 17-year-old Mette, as she tearfully watched a giant crane tear down the final stones of concert rooms at the Ungdomshuset that she visited and slept in each week.
"Shame on you," screamed the red-and-white banner held by youngsters incensed by their powerlessness in the face of adult decision-making.
Copenhagen's Social Democratic Mayor Ritt Bjerregaard remained adamant on Tuesday. "I will not negotiate with people responsible for this violence," she said.
National debate
It is the latest shock to hit Denmark - a nation whose self-confidence was shaken by the violent Muslim protests worldwide over Danish cartoons that satirised the Prophet Muhammad.
Other Danish politicians have been attempting to reach agreement with young activists to stop further violence and find a new home for the capital's alternative youth scene.
"Our citizens have been left in the lurch by the irresponsibility of the mayor," said Unity List's Morten Kabell.
The task is not easy. Neighbours of the empty school premises suggested as a new Ungdomshuset have already vehemently rejected the plans to house the youth centre - just as neighbours of the now demolished building breathe a sigh of relief.
"It was noisy, but in general we had few problems - when things were going right. When they went wrong, and it did on several occasions, it was terrible," said one couple, whose apartment overlooks a now empty lot.
To the small shopkeepers on Jagtvejen (Hunter's Road) and the hundreds of neighbours the marked police presence in the Noerrebro area and the running battles and destruction were unwelcome intrusions in one of Copenhagen's most distinctive quarters.
Culture of tolerance
In many ways, the outbursts of unconventional youngsters were easy to understand in a city priding itself on tolerance of alternative lifestyles.
From the hippies of Christiania to the youths of Ungdomshuset, Copenhagen has been a city of indulgence.
But if there is one thing that Danes cannot tolerate, it is outside interference and a blatant refusal to accept compromise.
The Ungdomshuset case also suggests troubling undercurrents of violence in a society that is otherwise relaxed, broad-minded, committed to compromise.
The intransigence of both sides, with Mayor Bjerregaard refusing further talks and the Ungdomshuset organisation refusing to find a middle ground, contains the seeds of further unrest.
Seen from a Danish perspective, it is difficult to apportion blame for the violence.
Was it the fault of the youths who started the squat in the early 1980s? Or was it the authorities who allowed the squat to continue for so many years because the building was empty?
Was it the politicians who suggested the building would remain a youth centre and then changed their minds? Or was it the increasingly anarchic youths who in the latter stages refused to accept any other buildings?
In the event, the council's sale of the run-down building to the Faderhuset (Father's House) religious sect was like holding up a red rag to inflame young anarchists. For them any religious mission is anathema.
A court decision to order the building emptied, quashing the hopes of increasingly powerless and vehement young people, was the last straw.
Of the 650 people detained by police during the disturbances, about half came from what seems to be a network of European youth anarchist movements that promptly answered the call-to-arms of its Danish brethren.
Judging from the well-organised battle plans and the cases of prepared projectiles and petrol bombs found in Ungdomshuset, Europe would do well not to underestimate the anti-establishment resolve of some of its more politicised youths.