Room 12A: Dog Dane Afternoon

« A meme grows in cyberspace | Main | An American Rebel in London »

Dog Dane Afternoon

February 10, 2006 07:25 AM

Who knew there were Iranians in Kiev? I didn't, until I ran into my Danish friend Lars on the street this morning. Half tongue-in-cheek, I asked Lars, who handles security issues between Ukraine and the Scandinavian countries, whether the Danish embassy was still intact. Yes, he told me, but as a matter of fact the embassy saw its first cartoon protests just this morning. (They've had police protection out front since Monday.) He said the 30-odd protestors included representatives from a local Islamic Association and some Iranians who are students at some of the local universities. No major disruptions, but the Danes decided to close for the day, just in case.

I was curious to see what practicing Muslims looked like in Ukraine -- I had never seen one here, and let's just say that Ukraine is not the safest place on earth for non-whites, if there were to be any (non-whites) in this crowd. Since the embassy is only a couple of blocks from my flat, I quickly headed home, grabbed my notebook and camera, and headed for the site. Unfortunately, by the time I reached the embassy the crowd had already left, though I did spot one woman in hijab buying a coke at a nearby kiosk. But what struck me anyhow was one minor detail that remainded: the Danes had taken down their flag, as well as the EU flag that customarily flies beside it. I could not imagine that the United States -- or even France -- would respond similarly. What an awful capitulation in the face of such cretinous incitement. Even if you close for the day in the interests of staff safety (fair enough), you don't let them take down your flag. I headed back to my apartment, wondering what I might see at the Swedish embassy, which is across the street. Sure enough....

It's easy for me to judge, though. The Danes and the Swedes don't imagine themselves as provocatuers; they can't make sense of the strange hatred and violence directed at them; they aren't accustomed to the rent-a-mobs that are routinely sent to pester U.S. consulates for the pleasure of satellite viewers. Part of the privilege of being American is in feeling a perverse exhilaration, not fear, when I see the mob burning my flag in the streets of Tehran or Damascus. It is the exhilaration of knowing that my flag represents everything the busily benighted are fighting against: liberty, tolerance, robust dignity. Until they can get their grimy little hands on me, they're just going to have to settle for the flag. And they couldn't possibly face a tougher adversary. The flag will hate them back; it will never stand for cynical neutrality between opposites, like the Swiss flag. But what happens when you replace pride with modesty, and still they burn your flag? When do you stop surrendering if you can't possibly comprehend the source of the grievance? At some point, Denmark, you just have to let the flag fly.

UPDATE: Do not miss Michael Kinsley's ruminations on the cartoon riots in today's Washington Post.

Europe | Middle East | Modern Islam | Ukraine | War on Terror