Magda Konieczna

A rose by any other name would taste as sweet

With Ryan Chen-Wing
appeared in The Toronto Star Feb. 26, 2006

After weeks of clashes over cartoon images of the prophet Mohammed, first printed in a Danish newspaper, a confectioners union in Iran ordered bakers to change the name of Danishes to "roses of Mohammed."

Renaming the popular pastry is a quirky development in the violent reaction that has left dozens dead, led to the burning of flags and of embassies, and prompted tightened security for Denmark's Olympic team.

This isn't the first protest of its kind. In 2003, "freedom fries" took U.S. Congress cafeterias by storm as a protest against France's opposition to the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq.

And during the First World War, allied supporters, awash in righteousness, rewrote North American menus to include "victory cabbage" and "liberty sandwiches" instead of sauerkraut and hamburgers.

But does a Danish by any other name taste as sweet? How effective can this kind of protest be?

It seems Iranians and Danes have at least one thing in common - they both like to indulge in sweet pastries.

That's why Elizabeth Driver, an author and president of the Culinary Historians of Ontario, isn't surprised that the treat is being used to show dissent.

"Everyone can participate (in that kind of protest). It's democratic, egalitarian.

"Food has always been symbolic," she adds, pointing to the communion bread that represents the body of Christ in the Catholic Church. "Food has been a way to express ideas, not simply either nourishment or pleasure."

And grassroots protest is a civilized way of expressing dissent, says Michael Byers, academic director at the Liu Institute for Global Issues in Vancouver.

"It's non-violent and goes to the question of consumer choice," he says.

"It's what civil society has been seeking to do for years, teaching people not to buy garments produced in sweatshops or avoid products that come from countries with serious human rights or environmental problems."

But in a world where Swiss cheese, Brussels sprouts and Boston-cream doughnuts are everyday fare, how far can this whole thing go? How much can what comes out of our mouths change when what goes in stays the same?

That question is key, says Byers.

Renaming your favourite dessert might not be much of a protest at all but simply a marketing trick to let us keep eating the things we like while still feeding our political appetites.

"I suspect it began with individual restaurant owners simply changing their label to perhaps sell more product," Byers says.

"Re-labelling something is a way of drawing attention. The initial motivation might be little more than that."

It's also attractive because it's easy to do.

People who participate in real boycotts need to change their choices at the grocery till, not just rename the foods they like.

But a recent study out of Stanford University showed that people were more likely to boycott French wines when they were less picky about their choice - either when they were giving it away as a gift, or when other wines would make a decent substitute.

In other words, when it comes to protest, people generally don't like to inconvenience themselves.

This makes the act of renaming a particularly simple form of protest: You can have your rose of Mohammed and eat your Danish, too.

Which leads to a deliciously flaky irony. Danes call the pastries weinerbrød, meaning Vienna bread, because they believe the pastries came from Austria. (At least one chef credits the name's origin to a strike by Danish bakers in the late 1800s. They were replaced by Viennese bakers, who made a light, flaky pastry.)

The irony doesn't end there. Austrians have their own name for the lip-smacking delicacies: Kopenhagener Geback - Copenhagen bread.