Teach the Crisis: arguments for teaching the Cartoon Crisis in primary school

ABSTRACT

The proposal to turn the so-called Cartoon Crisis into the obligatory history curriculum of the primary school system has been debated publicly over the years. Pros and cons regarding its integration into a teaching environment have been put forward. Since 2021, the proposal has also been formally debated as a bill and put to vote in the Danish parliament two times – each time voted down by the current government. Despite the bill’s defeat, I present here a number of principled arguments for making the so-called Cartoon Crisis (including the actual drawings) an obligatory teaching subject in the Danish school system. The arguments can be summed up as an encouragement to ‘Teach the Crisis’. Choosing not to include the Crisis and its primary sources in the teaching will only instal the proverbial elephant in the classroom and is probably a short-term solution for the cultural, social, and political challenges that Denmark will meet in the future.

KEYWORDS:

• Cartoon Crisis
• teaching
• Muhammad
• Muslim

The crisis recapitulated

The ‘Cartoon Crisis’, also known as the ‘Cartoon Controversy’ or ‘Muhammad Crisis’, refers to a series of events and reactions that unfolded between 2005 and 2006 in response to the publication of an article titled ‘Muhammad’s face’ in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten, which include twelve editorial cartoons on 30 September 2005.¹

An article published by the Danish news service Ritzau on 16 September 2005 reported on the challenges faced by writer Kåre Bluitgen in finding an illustrator for his children’s book titled The Qur’an and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (Danish: Koranen og profeten Muhammeds liv), a popularised retelling of Ibn Ishaq’s (c. 704–767) famous sira or hagiographic biography Sīrat Rasūl Allāh.² According to the Ritzau article, three illustrators initially declined Bluitgen’s proposal due to fears of reprisals. However, one artist agreed to help anonymously, expressing concerns for his own and his family’s safety. Bluitgen mentioned that one artist refused due to the murder of Dutch film director Theo van Gogh in the previous year (on account of the short-film Submission), while another cited an attack on a lecturer at the University of Copenhagen’s Middle East Studies department. The lecturer had been assaulted by five individuals on the reason that he – as a non-Muslim – had performed a recitation of the Qur’an to the students.³ This story gained attention, and the major Danish newspapers reported on it the following days. The alleged refusals of these initial three artists to participate were presented as instances of self-censorship driven by fear of retaliation from Islamists. This sparked significant public debate.

In response to this debate, the cultural editor of Jyllands-Posten, Flemming Rose, made the decision to invite Danish illustrators to contribute with drawings of the prophet Muhammad ‘as you see him’ along with a text by Rose himself. The purpose was to illustrate the newspaper’s view that certain forms of self-censorship could occur in Denmark, where the fear of retaliation from violent Islamists could hinder artists and writers from freely addressing the subject of Islam and Muslims. Rose’s approach was a classic journalistic tactic: ‘Don’t tell it, show it!’ By testing whether illustrators dared to draw the Prophet, one could examine whether there was any truth to the suspicion of self-censorship. The text noted several incidents of violence or fear of violence domestically and internally and concluded:

The cited examples give rise to concern, whether the perceived fear is based on false grounds or not. The fact is that it exists and leads to self-censorship. An intimidation of the public space is happening … The quoted examples show that we are heading down a slippery slope where no one can predict what self-censorship will lead to. Therefore, Jyllands-Posten has encouraged members of the Danish Association of Editorial Cartoonists to draw Muhammad as they see him.⁴

Rose also wrote:

The modern, secular society is rejected by some Muslims. They claim a special status when they insist on special consideration for their own religious sentiments. This is incompatible with a secular democracy and freedom of expression, where one must be prepared to endure mockery, ridicule, and derision.⁵

Most of the cartoons seemed to depict the prophet Muhammad, but at least one of them did explicitly not (instead depicting a schoolboy prankster named Mohammed). Another one was highly abstract and did not depict a human being and yet another one could lead the viewer into doubt which of the figures could be Muhammad, if any? The publication of these cartoons and the accompanying text by the editor Flemming Rose led to widespread protests across the Muslim world and among Muslims (and non-Muslims) in Western Europe. On the day of publication, the first death threat against the newspaper and the people involved was issued.⁶ The controversy escalated, leading to demonstrations, boycotts, and even violent and lethal attacks in various countries. Due to militant jihadist threats and plots, several key persons, such as the cartoonists, editors, politicians, and activists had to be offered 24 h security details by the Danish intelligence services. Several media houses, such as the Danish Broadcasting Corporation, the Danish equivalent to BBC, set up unprecedented security measures with regard to access to the buildings. Despite these measures, attacks were planned and some even occurred, e.g. in 2010 when Kurt Westergaard, the cartoonist who drew the Prophet with a bomb in his turban, were attacked by a young axe-wielding person of Somali background.⁷

The Crisis had triggered a debate about freedom of speech and artistic expression and in 2015, a young Dane with a criminal record of Palestinian descent attacked a public event with artists, activists, journalists and lay audience. Prior to the attack, he had sworn allegiance to the caliph of Islamic State, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, on Facebook. He ended up killing one person at the public event before he fled the scene and later attacked the main synagogue in Copenhagen where he killed a security guard. Eventually, he was tracked down by the police and got shot and died. Since he died, there was never a trial regarding his possible role as a terrorist, but the attack was treated and investigated as a terrorist attack by the authorities.⁸ Hence, the Crisis and its cartoons have always been a security issue and the Danish intelligence services have regularly mentioned in their yearly threat assessment reports that the Crisis and the cartoons hold the potential to reactivate militant Islamists.⁹

Although the Crisis proper is limited to 2005–6, the abovementioned plots and attacks demonstrate that the Crisis has had a long afterlife and continuously has been assessed as a risk for militant remobilisation. However, to reduce the Crisis to a mere question of security risks and measures would amount to a reductionist and securitised treatment of the Crisis, since the Crisis also entails more soft challenges and dilemmas, such as principal questions of freedom of expression vis-à-vis religious sensitivities, questions of majority- and minority representation and identities.¹⁰ It is to these that I now turn.

The complex and dialectic Crisis

Since the Cartoon Crisis, political, public and academic debates and deliberations have unfolded in Denmark regarding the causes and consequences of the crisis, including its historical, sociological, cultural, political, moral and – of course – religious status. The debates have waxed and waned but it is fair to say that the Crisis and its consequences and reconfigurations merit a general status as complex. First, it was and is complex because it involved many factors and was characterised by unpredictability. Second, it led to a protracted ‘culture war’ involving many different and ambivalent parties.¹¹ As a topic that has become deeply entrenched in the collective memory of Danish society, we might even say that the Crisis has become somewhat of a national complex in psychological terms. That is, in the sense that it stems from an emotionally charged and dangerous experience and repeatedly and involuntarily demands our attention and reflections on a national level.

The Crisis also holds a certain dialectic element where the many opposing positions and framings lead to higher and ever more complex state-of-affairs and perceptions, e.g. between the national and the transnational, between different public spheres and audiences. A political scientist has thus described the Crisis as a ‘learning process for Danish society, a process which has resulted in an increased level of global consciousness and an altered self-conception of Denmark’s place and role in the world’ (Olesen 2007, 295). This is but one of the learnings outcomes of the dangerous, complex and dialectic Crisis. In the remaining part of the article, I will focus on this learning process in a very restricted and concrete manner, namely why the Crisis could and should be used in a didactic setting in the Danish education system. Thus, the Crisis should also be labelled as a didactic crisis.

The didactic Crisis – and didactics in Crisis

In recent years, the debates and deliberations have entered a new phase that considers the incorporation of the Crisis in the curriculum of the public school. As a historian of religion specialising in Islam, this chapter in Danish history is undoubtedly a significant topic, but its significance extends beyond the realm of religious studies and RE, religious education. It reaches far into other fields of learning, primarily the subject of history and social studies (samfundsfag).

In light of this, I would like to present a number of factors and arguments that substantiate why the Crisis and its central sources should be obligatory material in the public school system. Deciding not to incorporate Jyllands-Posten’s text and cartoons in the classroom is tantamount to the proverbial elephant in the (class)room. To resist or avoid addressing an obvious problem or difficult situation, in casu the Cartoon Crisis, is not a viable didactic and pedagogical strategy in an increasingly multi-cultural, multi-religious, and globalised society.

In the political parliamentary system, proposals have been repeatedly put forward to make the Crisis an obligatory topic in the public primary school. These proposals have been presented by a coalition of both left-wing and right-wing parties, but each time they have been voted down by the government in power. Most recently, in May 2023, the government rejected the proposals on the grounds that it could pose a security threat to the teachers, pupils and the state.¹² Choosing not to teach about an urgent and complex subject and thereby not letting pupils engage with the subject could be said to constitute a didactics in crisis. Thus, the following paragraphs merely present a number of arguments as to why the teaching of this controversial subject is both didactically sensible and morally legitimate.

The Cartoon Crisis as historical event, present and future

The first reason why the Crisis should be included in the national curriculum and applied in the classroom is its historical status. Jyllands-Posten’s text and drawings of Muhammad are virtually the definition of a historical event. Not in themselves, but because their consequences were so extraordinary, significant, and critical – politically, journalistically, artistically, legally, security-wise, economically, philosophically, and religiously. At its most fatal and existential level, the Crisis had lethal outcomes for several individuals. For others, the crisis has been life-changing, marked by round-the-clock security, assassination attempts and plots. For the Danish state, the Crisis has presented itself as a constant challenge and risk vis à vis international relations image and foreign policy, but probably also domestically with regard to the Denmark’s Muslim minority and the delicate social contract that multi-culture and multi-religiosity increasingly calls for. Protecting legal freedom of expression, maintaining social cohesion, and taking care of religious sensitivities is a difficult task, but it seems as if the state has opted for a cautious small state-policy where potential domestic, international and transnational reactivation of the Crisis is to be avoided for the sake of national interest.

Thus, Jyllands-Posten’s text and drawings of Muhammad are not merely a historical event because their consequences were exceptional and critical during late 2005 and throughout 2006, but also because their consequences continue to resonate today on several of the aforementioned fronts. The Crisis, the text and the cartoons, have a remarkable ability to rise above their original contexts and continues to reverberate around the world in ever-new forms, formats and contexts – often with less fatal and dangerous consequences. Arguing for the Crisis’ ability to reverberate and echo in the form of other incidents, religious studies scholar Jennifer Veninga fittingly cites the famous dictum from William Faulkner’s novel Requiem for a Nun: ‘The past is never dead. It’s not even past’ (Veninga 2016).¹³ Indeed, the very occasion and motivation for writing this piece is just one of many examples of recontextualization. In a foreseeable time, the Crisis will also be part of Denmark’s future.

One particular critical and tragic reason has been occasioned by the killing of French secondary school (collège) professeur Samuel Paty in 2020. Whereas earlier Islamists’ threats and attacks have been directed towards the very creators of perceived offensive and blasphemous cultural products, such as artists, cartoonists and publicists, the Paty assassination has expanded the scope of potential victims to that of teachers and educators. Now, the messenger who merely teaches about the subject – without necessarily taking sides as to the moral legitimacy of illegitimacy of the cartoons, risks being subjected to militant believers’ crimes. To use a title of a novel by the famous and controversial French writer Michel Houellebecq, it is an Extension du domaine de la lutte, an ‘extension of the zone of struggle’ (Houellebecq 2021).

Lastly, the Crisis represents not only a particular and contingent national affair, it is also an ideal didactic prism for investigating popular theories and explanatory models related to so-called Orientalism, ‘clash of civilisations’, multiculturalism, post-colonialism, blasphemy, freedom of speech and Islamophobia. Suffice it to say, that the relevant analytical and theoretical perspectives on the Crisis are very diverse and inherently call for teaching and classroom reflection.

In conclusion. From the conscientious historian’s (whether general history or history of religion) point of view, the deliberate avoidance of this topic constitutes an unfortunate sin of omission. An omission that in its very nature of absence instals the proverbial elephant in the classroom. In the next section, I will comment further on the history and concept of controversy in teaching.

The Crisis and controversial topics

Free of charge and obligatory school attendance have played a crucial and socially positive role in Danish society since the 19th century. In the Law of Primary School, the first paragraph stipulates that the ‘Primary school should prepare students for participation, shared responsibility, rights, and duties in a society with freedom and democracy (Danish: folkestyre). The school’s work should therefore be characterised by intellectual freedom, equality, and democracy’.¹⁴ In the past hundred years, obligatory subjects in primary and secondary education such as history, social studies (samfundsfag), biology, religion,¹⁵ Danish, and visual arts (billedkunst) have all covered and taught historical events and social attitudes that demonstrate examples of all kinds of serious human rights violations and have unvaryingly been considered aesthetically repugnant as well as morally, politically and religiously controversial and challenging. To mention some recent examples from history teaching, subject of slavery, Holocaust and 9/11.

In cases where students’ specific beliefs, in particular religious beliefs, are to be asserted or ‘protected’ from the mainline of the public education system, the state of Denmark provides ample opportunity for private and independent schooling, including state funding. Yet even in these cases legislation applies, stating that education should ‘meet the standards generally required in the primary school’ and ‘develop and strengthen students’ democratic education and their knowledge of and respect for fundamental freedoms and human rights, including gender equality’.¹⁶

One frequent argument against teaching the Crisis and its cartoons concerns its potential for triggering offence and anger among Muslim students but also emotions of inferiority, ‘othering’ and ridicule.¹⁷ These responses to the satirical portraits of the Prophet are sometimes perceived and interpreted as a proxy or metonymy for Islam, thereby constituting a satirical-critical take on a religion that Muslims venerate and adhere to. Since many Muslims also cultivate a strong veneration for the Prophet himself, sometimes as the embodiment of a divine principle and sometimes as the uswa hassana, ‘the perfect or exemplary model’ to live by, some Muslims report a kind of proxy offence on his part. Since some Muslims even have internalised the traditional veneration and love for the Prophet, the Prophet has become a part of some Muslims’ identity and psychological structure. This again leads some to infer a kind of second metonymy by which the Prophet does not merely represent himself and Islam but also the living subjects that constitute the very religion, i.e. Muslims (Stjernfelt 2006).

One could however argue that such emotions and inferences are not exceptional to Muslims. Many other subjects, such as disrespectful depictions of Jesus Christ, the Pope or Nazi anti-Semitic drawings, could elicit similar emotions and inferences among other people, but are nevertheless used in teaching for various legitimate and valuable purposes, such as the history of blasphemy and enemy image construction. In other words, the drawings are undoubtedly disrespectful and sometimes even borders on tired stereotypes and motifs that could be perceived as Islamophobic. Nonetheless, they should be included for the same reasons as other anti-Semitic, racist and offensive drawings and materials are included in teaching. Because they constitute a contested and problematic part of new Danish history that ought to be addressed by the school system. Furthermore, that the newspaper Jyllands-Posten is politically right-wing and usually holds a very critical position on Islam and immigration politics is not a valid argument for not using it as a primary source. In fact, the political position of the newspaper and its track history regarding Islamic issues only constitutes an opportunity for teachers to include analysis of politics and media within the teaching of the Cartoon Crisis (Hervik 2011). In other words, even if some of the drawings can be interpreted as offensive, racist, xenophobic ad nauseam and are embedded in a newspaper with a certain political agenda and profile, they are still warranted and indispensable as primary source material to critically analysed and debated.

The Crisis and its critical and controversial primary sources

In most disciplines, primary sources are an indispensable part of educational materials. The primary sources form the empirical basis and raison d’être of the subjects. Without them, the disciplines would rely solely on speculations and second hand opinions, i.e. secondary sources. By approaching sources reflectively and critically, educators and students have the opportunity to assess the facts themselves, rather than simply accepting others’ representations of reality. A verbal description of Manet’s painting Luncheon on the Grass, which was offensive and provoking in its time, can in principle replace a reproduction of the painting, but such an ekphrasis would be very poor with regard to the visual richness of the painting. Teaching topics such as the Holocaust and genocide can – and probably should – be conducted without using the most realistic visual sources, but even without them, teaching such topics will inevitably be challenging and transgressive.

On the Danish state’s learning portal EMU, there are several manuals that explains how to teach controversial topics and why it is important and constructive to do so. The material developed by the state’s Agency for Education and Quality (Styrelsen for Undervisning og Kvalitet) justifies the necessity of teaching controversial topics as follows:

The school plays an important role when it comes to learning to accommodate others’ values. It is in the classroom that children and young people have the opportunity to explore conversation, disagreement, and tolerance. It is a central part of children and young people’s education as citizens in a democracy to be able to handle controversial topics. Sex, religion, extremism, and identity are examples of topics that, in their own way, are sensitive, stir emotions, and make people act based on feelings and not necessarily reason.¹⁸

This controversy tolerant approach to teaching matches the approach that Gerald Graff, an American professor of English and Education, argues for in Beyond the Culture Wars: How Teaching the Conflicts Can Revitalize American Education (1992). In this book, Graff contends that rather than avoiding or suppressing controversial topics and disagreements within a teaching environment, educators should actively encourage students to explore and engage with conflicting viewpoints. By doing so, students can develop critical thinking skills and learn to navigate differing perspectives. In a longer and wider perspective, this can help foster a more informed and engaged citizenry that is able to handle controversy and conflict in a peaceful and reflexive manner.

Internationally and in terms of primary sources, the Rushdie affair with the novel The Satanic Verses is probably the most obvious comparable precursor. As for the Cartoon Crisis proper, several early written sources must be factored in, such as an interview with a well-known Danish comedian who declared that he did not dare making jokes about the Qur’an. These sources are also important, but Jyllands-Posten’s text and cartoons remain the triggering and indispensable starting point. One might even argue that they are so indispensable that they should be canonical.

The canonical Crisis

Teachers have methodological freedom in teaching, but this freedom is hardly absolute and unconditional. First, in the Danish context there are compulsory subjects that are to be taught, such as history and Religious Education. Second, there are mandatory learning objectives and topics that are necessary for each subject and for the didactic and pedagogical progression of education. For example, the subject of visual arts could not be meaningfully conducted under a ban on images. Likewise, history cannot be taught without the use of textual and visual sources – at least not responsibly.

Modern education does not rely on coercion, but sound educational practices are built around a curriculum, that is, mandatory topics that the pupils must work their way through in a progressive manner. In two subjects in primary education, i.e. Danish and history, so-called canon lists have even been developed and in function since 2006. As of now, the history canon consists of thirty historical highlights in chronological sequence of events or persons that represent change and rupture and/or hold symbolic significance for posterity.¹⁹ As already argued, the Crisis does indeed represent a change and rupture and holds symbolic significance both then and now.

These canon lists have been the subject of much discussion and criticism, but a recent qualitative investigation demonstrated that the teachers in general acknowledge the canon lists and find their motivation legitimate and relevant.²⁰ Topics included in the historical canon list, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s suffrage, and the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights, are hardly subjects that anyone would want to remove from the canon today. However, the list does not only include highlights of human development but man-made disasters and crises as well. Today, the 29th point on the list is 9/11 and most recently, it has been decided to include Holocaust as a new and independent topic, although the list also contains the rescue of the Danish Jews during the Second World War. In terms of thematic overlaps, the Crisis fits in with 9/11 with regard to fundamentalist militancy, clashes of different kinds of secularities and religiosities, symbolic power and co-existence.

Conclusion: a paradoxical object lesson

At present, with the bill voted down, the only real lesson learned from the omission of the Crisis in the school curriculum is a bleak one, namely that threats and terror campaigns can succeed in intimidating a (teaching) population and its political representatives. Paradoxically, the elephant in the classroom turns into an ‘object lesson’, but instead of using the relevant visual aids, i.e. Jylland-Posten’s newspaper page, to help convey a lesson and concept, it turns the Crisis into nothing but a security issue thereby reducing the cultural, social, religious, and political complexities of the Crisis to one singular, securitised subject matter.

By way of conclusion, I have tried to present some pertinent arguments for turning the Cartoon Crisis into the obligatory history curriculum of the primary school system. The Crisis is historically important, now and then. The fact that the Crisis is controversial and conflict-ridden is another argument for its didactic inclusion. Instead of censoring crises and their controversial materials, teaching the crises is probably the best way to negotiate and possibly overcome protracted crises. Primary sources constitute a sine qua non in responsible teaching irrespective of their possible anti-Semitic, racist or Islamophobic content. The alternative, that is the omission of Crisis from the classrooms, risks turning future students into citizens who do not know how to deal with disagreement and controversy with the common parameters of democratic debate.

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No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Correction Statement

This article has been corrected with minor changes. These changes do not impact the academic content of the article.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Thomas Hoffmann

Thomas Hoffmann is professor in Qurʾānic and Islamic Studies at the Faculty of Theology, University of Copenhagen. His main research is in Qurʾānic studies, but he also leads and teaches a master programme named Interreligious Islamic Studies (IRIS). Hoffmann is member of a number of state committees dealing with religious affairs and issues of integration. He is also a regular contributor to the public debate regarding current issues of Islam and Muslims.

Notes

1. It is generally not considered best practice to refer to Wikipedia, but many of the serious and in-depth treatments of these Danish subjects are only available in Danish, with the notable exception of Klausen (2009). In order to provide the non-Danish reader with a general understanding of the topics, I have estimated that references to Wikipedia entries constitute a pragmatic solution. The layout of Jyllands-Posten’s article can be viewed on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jyllands-Posten_Muhammad_cartoons_controversy. For a high resolution replication of the cartoons, see http://www.aina.org/releases/20060201143237.htm

2. The main bulk of information on the various stakeholders and their quotations and references are taken from Hansen and Hundevadt’s meticulous timeline and account of the Crisis, i.e. Provoen og Profeten. Muhammedkrisen bag kulisserne (Hansen and Hundevadt 2006)

3. See e.g. https://www.kristeligt-dagblad.dk/danmark/underviser-overfaldet-sin-omgang-med-koranen

4. The text is cited and translated from it replication in Hansen and Hundevadt (2006, 22).

5. Ibid. The phrase on ‘mockery, ridicule, and derision’ is probably a creative rephrasing of Georg Brandes (1892), one of the pioneering figures in the so-called ‘Modern Breakthrough’ that began around 1870. The critic and literary scholar Georg Brandes formulated this literary vision: ‘A living literature is known for engaging in debate over problems’. During the Modern Breakthrough, a debate unfolded where all authorities were up for discussion. Rose’s phrase echoes this ‘They did not possess the weapons of power, but those of mockery, and with scorn and mockery they launched their attacks. They annihilated with laughter’ (from Hovedstrømninger, vol. 3, 58).

6. Ibid., 24.

7. A more complex plot was planned in 2008 where terrorists were to storm the Jyllands-Posten’s offices in Copenhagen, have its staff be taken hostage and decapitated, and then have their severed heads thrown out of the windows in an international media spectacle. The case is thoroughly described in a journalistic monograph by Sørensen (2013). See also David Headley: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Headley

8. The attack was not directly related to Jyllands-Posten but was triggered by the attendance of the Swedish artist and art professor Lars Vilks (1946–2021) who also had depicted the Prophet in a disrespectful manner. The case is thoroughly described in a journalistic monograph by Albæk, Dalsgaard and Mikkelsen (2019). See e.g. ‘Lars Vilks’: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lars_Vilks. See also ‘2015 Copenhagen Shootings’: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2015_Copenhagen_shootings#Perpetrator

9. This is also stated in the most recent report from Center for Terroranalyse (2023), 14: https://pet.dk/-/media/mediefiler/pet/dokumenter/analyser-og-vurderinger/vurdering-af-terrortruslen-mod-danmark/vurdering-af-terrortruslen-mod-danmark-2023.pdf

10. In the sense of the Copenhagen School’s theory of securitisation. According to this theory, securitisation happens when state actors transforms subjects from regular political issues into matters of ‘security’ and in this process enables extraordinary means to be used in the name of ‘security’. See Buzan, Wæver and de Wilde (1998, 25).

11. According to the Cambridge Dictionary, ‘culture wars’ refer to ‘Disagreements about cultural and social beliefs between groups, especially between people with more conservative opinions […] and people with more progressive opinions’.

12. The rejection was based on an interpretation of a threat assessment put forward by the Danish intelligence service.

13. Wikipedia’s entry on the Cartoon Crisis also holds a list of incidents that are often compared to the Crisis, see endnote 1.

14. §1, pt. 3: https://www.retsinformation.dk/eli/lta/2022/1396

15. See the list of obligatory subjects on the homepage of the Ministry of Children and Education: https://www.uvm.dk/folkeskolen/fag-timetal-og-overgange/fag-emner-og-tvaergaaende-temaer/folkeskolens-fag. Directly translated the subject renders ’Knowledge about Christianity’. However, this is somewhat of a misnomer because the subject is obliged to include teaching about ethics, life philosophies, and non-Christian religions.

16. The so-called ‘free school and private primary school law’, see https://www.retsinformation.dk/eli/lta/2018/1111

17. One could add Muslim school staff and parents, although these are rarely mentioned in the public debate.

18. See https://emu.dk/grundskole/demokrati-og-faellesskaber/kontroversielle-emner

19. For the list (only in Danish), see https://emu.dk/grundskole/historie/kanon/historiekanon

20. For the report (only in Danish), see https://www.uvm.dk/-/media/filer/uvm/publikationer/2021/210224-undersoegelse-af-laerernes-brug-af-kanonlisterne-i-dansk-og-historie-epinion.pdf