Reykjavík Grapevine - 07.04.2006, Blaðsíða 14
The 18th of March is the anniversary of
Iceland’s declaration of support for the 2003
invasion of Iraq. This year, two Icelandic anti-
war groups chose to stage events in protest of
that decision, and American foreign policy in
general. First, there was a noon gathering at
Háskólabíó, consisting of a panel debate and
the showing of two short films by Ari Alexan-
dersson titled I Am an Arab and 1001 Nights.
Immediately following that gathering, there
was an outdoor rally at Ingólfstorg. In both
cases, those assembled were an eclectic mix of
long-time leftists, young activists and students,
and various bemused lookers-on. It was hard
to gauge what the average age or social status
might have been, but bohemians with woolly
scarves and left-wing intellectuals in long coats
were certainly well-represented.
“Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib
are words that have become black stains
on humanity’s conscience, like Dachau and
Auschwitz.” – these were amongst the opening
words of a speech given by Ólafur Hannibals-
son, respected lecturer and long-time protestor,
at the start of the gathering at Háskólabío.
To be fair, he and the rest of the speakers
did not let this startling comparison set the
tone for the events that would follow. After
Hannibalsson had finished speaking, and the
not-so-memorable film I Am an Arab had
been screened, it was time for the panel debate
to begin.
The assembled panel of experts was fairly
impressive, including former Prime Minister
Steingrímur Hermannsson, former foreign
minister Jón Baldvin Hannibalsson (who is
Ólafur Hannibalsson’s brother, incidentally),
author Hallgrímur Helgason and several media
figures including Halla Gunnarsdóttir from
Morgunblaðið. Apart from the general back
and forth, Ms. Gunnarsdóttir provided one
particularly strongly worded but interesting
quote: “You can’t report a murder in an objec-
tive way.”
The questions posed to the panel by the
reverend Örn Bárður Jónsson were basically
speaking points, while those emanating from
the audience were for the most part completely
incomprehensible diatribes that went on for
longer than anyone cared to listen and often
didn’t seem to contain any real questions.
“Seeing as how American military hege-
mony is destroying the world and our govern-
ment is directly responsible for being a lapdog
to war criminals, don’t you think I’m right in
saying [insert opinionated conclusion]” – be-
ing the typical format. A regrettably painful
chapter in what was an otherwise well-executed
debate, but to their credit the panelists did not
let the inanity of the questions stop them from
expounding, at length, on their own views.
One odd aside came as Steingrímur
Hermannsson was asked if he would vote for
the Progressive Party, and by extension its
chairman Halldór Ásgrímsson, in the next
elections. It had nothing to do with what was
being discussed, but in ducking the question
Hermannsson managed to impart some subtle
criticism on the foreign policy of his successor
in the Progressive Party.
Even Describing This Movie Is Intense
After the panel discussion finished, the audi-
ence was treated to one last set of dire warnings
about the second film’s content, and a short
speech by the filmmaker himself. “This movie
is really intense,” he said more than once and
more than twice about 1001 Nights. “Please
leave if you are under 16 or feel you won’t be
able to handle the graphic violence.”
He wasn’t kidding. The short, Alexander-
sson’s second about the Iraq war, is basically
just under seven minutes of what hell would be
like if George Romero directed the action and
Aphex Twin provided the musical score.
Apart from the lengthy close-up of a
screaming man having his head sawn off with
a rusty machete, it was probably the dead
babies and brutal gang rapes that left the most
lasting impression. Þór Eldon’s musical score
catapulted the already stupefying material into
headfuck territory, something he was no doubt
aided in by the eerie low-quality look of the
footage. A crying baby somewhere in the audi-
ence completed the shocking experience, as it
coincided with the aforementioned montage of
dead and mutilated children.
You Again
Once the horror was over and a few quick
words had been spoken, it was off to Ingólf-
storg to protest against American hegemony
in general, and the military base in Iceland in
particular. Rather than marching together in
the bleak weather, most of those assembled at
Háskólabíó seemed to choose private trans-
portation – something of an irony in light of
the famous “no blood for oil” slogan often
associated with such events. A few confessed
that they weren’t at all interested in going to
the outdoor rally anyway, and, at first, there
were fewer people at Ingólfstorg than at the
earlier event.
As time went on, though, passers-by got
curious and the crowd sort of snowballed into
a fairly impressive mass of spectators, perhaps
800 or so, which was enough to come close to
filling Ingólfstorg. Suddenly, a group of ‘an-
archists’, of suspiciously low stature and high
pitch, showed up dressed in black and sporting
balaclavas. After shouting some slogans, the
young revolutionaries struggled to set fire to a
NATO flag, but apparently they had managed
to procure one made of asbestos and the lighter
fluid they began to spray on it in desperation
only made it melt away in a decidedly unspec-
tacular fashion.
There are both positive and negative
things to be said about the Icelandic peace
movement’s overall performance on the 18th.
The organisations and the people responsible
did in fact do a commendable job. Jón Baldvin
and Steingrímur Hermannsson were the stars
of the evening, trading some memorable jabs
about politics and old times, but everyone who
rose to speak did so with dignity and convic-
tion. On the negative side, the rally at Ingólf-
storg was predictable and no doubt boring
for anyone who had been to such an event in
Iceland before. It’s not that the speeches were
bad. Stefán Pálsson, for example, spoke with
his trademark passionate eloquence, and given
the fact that news of the closure of the military
base was still fresh, there was certainly more
than enough to talk about. It’s just that the
depressing weather didn’t help the atmosphere,
the familiarity of the faces didn’t serve to
excite, and the raggedness of the banners only
underscored the fact that this was not the first
or last time we would all be gathering in a vain
attempt at having our voices heard.
“After shouting some slogans, the young revolutionar-
ies struggled to set fire to a NATO flag, but apparently
they had managed to procure one made of asbestos
and the lighter fluid they began to spray on it in des-
peration only made it melt away in a decidedly unspec-
tacular fashion.”
No Blood for Oil! Now, Where Did We Park?
Anti-war protests on March 18th
by gunnar hrafn jónsson photo by gúndi
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