Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.06.2006, Qupperneq 11

The first thing to strike me about the
Friends of Iceland protest march on May
27th, Election Day, were the freaks. When
you’ve been living in Reykjavík for a decent
amount of time, anyone in downtown
unfamiliar to you immediately stands out
in a crowd, but this was something else
altogether. This was a parade full of weirdos.
Everywhere I turned there was a person of
immodest height and/or weight, an un-
conventional arrangement of facial hair or
someone with way too many pieces of metal
jammed through their skin and face.
And, of course, no freak show parade
would be complete without a weird band to
round things out, and this was no exception:
A decidedly makeshift brass ensemble com-
plete with huge drums and a very impres-
sive tuba led the column marching down
Laugevegur with the steady, solemn pace of
people who meant business.
While the same could not be said for ev-
eryone – for as is often the case with marches
such as these, there were a fair amount of
people who were just there for the company
and a pleasant noon walk – most of the
people there appeared to have issues which
they felt could be resolved by this demonstra-
tion. The issues were varied, ranging from
dissatisfaction with the Icelandic school
system to general concern over the state of
the country, but, as advertised, the main item
on the protestors’ agenda was aluminium and
the smelting thereof.
One particularly colourful group were
dressed in white painters’ overalls and had
fashioned crude percussion instruments
of their own from lampshades, coke cans
and other metal garbage. On their backs
they had stencilled one of the day’s more
memorable, if not terribly poetic, slogans:
DROWN VALGERÐUR, NOT THE
HIGHLANDS, the Valgerður in question
being Minister of Industry and Commerce
Valgerður Sverrisdóttir.
Other slogans ranged from the eloquent
BLOOD-COVERED MOUNTAIN-
TOPS to the simple and desperate WE
WILL NOT LOSE OUR COUNTRY,
WHERE’S THE DEMOCRACY? to
the incomprehensible and vague RICHES
MAKE FOOLS OF MEN.
Minor differences aside, the march was
an impressive and surprisingly unified effort,
compared to the Icelandic ‘protests’ of the
recent past. It felt like things were changing,
and that something, either an event like the
January 7th anti-smelter concert or the In-
dependence Party’s impending victory in the
Reykjavík mayoral elections, had suddenly
upped the ante and made people a bit more
aware of what they really fought for.
And almost anyone who has had occa-
sion to question the Icelandic government’s
judgement would agree with me when I say
that making a meaningful statement by way
of public protest is a dying thing. In an age
where protestors have been compartmen-
talised and categorised and filed away as a
‘dissident fringe element,’ it seems almost
impossible to imagine anything short of
a violent, chaotic riot to fully convey the
public’s anger at a negligent or irresponsible
government.
So imagine my surprise when the kind
of solemn, steadfast people that never ever
get their points across actually began to fill
the air with a sense of lofty idealism. The
presence of a common, unified goal – the
abandonment of the smelting projects in the
east country – was slowly starting to work its
magic on the nation’s disenchanted, and it
was a pleasure to behold, especially when it
was a unity of so many people. The full count
for the march is estimated to be 3000 people,
which, if we’re not mistaken, is a full one
hundredth of the country.
But all hopes were very nearly dashed
upon arrival at Austurvellir square and the
beginnings of what had all the makings of
just another outdoor-concert-with-a-noble-
cause-conveniently-attached-to-it. There
was a very makeshift-looking stage, a tent
where you could pledge your support by
either buying a t-shirt or writing your name
on a list, people running around offering to
sell other people t-shirts or put their names
on lists. The passionate individuals were of
course still there, but it seemed their ardour
had somehow vanished to be replaced by the
timid, scowling bitterness of people resigned
to their fate, a look often seen on the faces
of outvoted politicians and teachers unable
to maintain any semblance of control over a
classroom.
Perhaps it was simply that the hype had
gotten to everyone. They had gone marching
down Laugavegur in such great confidence
that they had begun to think the battle won
without realising that once they arrived at
Austurvellir, things could only go as well as
planned, which is where the hitch in all this
is.
You cannot plan an effective protest.
In order for a protest to be effective, the
very mention of it will put the ones being
protested against in action against the protest
(you may want to read that sentence over a
few times). The point of a protest is to show
solidarity in a common disapproval of some-
thing being implemented or stood for, such
solidarity that the implementers rethink their
schemes or abandon them altogether. None
of these things were inherent in the election
day protests, nor in any other recent Reykja-
vík protest.
Granted, there are unconfirmed reports
of a shaken Davíð Oddsson balefully regard-
ing the gathered ‘masses’ with a this-sort-
of-thing-would-never-have-happened-on-
my-watch expression, but raising eyebrows is
simply not enough, especially this late in the
game. And besides, the only eyebrows raised
at this particular protest would be those of
incidental bypasser; as soon as the music and
the reading got going, it was preaching to the
choir, all the way.
This was made especially true by the
fact that a fair number of people immedi-
ately abandoned the protest to vote at City
Hall once they reached Austurvellir. Those
remaining had most likely already voted, and
were there to enjoy the simple but satisfying
pleasure of being surrounded by people you
agree with.
Actress Sólveig Arnardóttir read an
interesting speech penned by Social Demo-
cratic nominee Dofri Hermannsson which
detailed the planning process for a company
to gain permission to build a smelter such as
the one under construction in Straumsvík.
The speech itself was poignant, showing
how pathetically easy it is to swindle large
amounts of money through nepotism and
total disregard for the welfare of future gen-
erations, but I was rather disappointed that
Dofri didn’t make time to read it himself; it
certainly would have bought him a few extra
votes by showing his dedication to the cause,
and his reading couldn’t have harmed the
speech that much.
The musical acts didn’t help matters
much by completely abandoning stage pres-
ence and relying solely on the ‘high spirits’
they were evidently certain permeated the
grounds. They demanded sing-alongs,
tweaked lyrics to be slightly more political,
or dedicated the odd song to either a disliked
politician, a favourite activist or, most clichéd
of all, to Iceland itself, hoping to draw roars
of approval, but getting only the half-hearted
cheering of friends or those really irritating
people who always hoot excitedly at every-
thing that’s said onstage.
In the end, the whole thing failed to
amount to much despite the charged atmo-
sphere at the outset, and perhaps actor/direc-
tor Stefán Jónsson said it best upon seeing
sadly out-of-place electro outfit Dr. Disco
Shrimp attempting to create an atmosphere
at the crowd’s initial arrival at Austurvellir:
“It’s like starting to have great sex, but then
when you feel the climax coming, your dick
gets slapped out. It sucks.”
Approximately 1600 people signed the
list going round, which was in fact a peti-
tion to the Icelandic government to put to
a halt all exploitation of natural resources
by big business, and that steps to taken to
ensure a lasting protection of said resources.
While 1600 may not seem like much, the
Friends of Iceland organisation have put up
a website, www.islandsvinir.org, where the
petition can also be signed, and organiser
Andrea Ólafsdóttir told the Grapevine that
they will be going door to door collecting
signatures, knowing that in a country run by
men with such a f lexible take on democracy,
the chances of a petition of this manner to
be taken seriously are dim unless signed by
a large enough amount to be impossible to
ignore.
This does seem a more effective method
to show the people’s mistrust in the gov-
ernment’s policies than the disorganised
shambles at the protest itself, but the problem
dwells not within miscommunication be-
tween government and people, but in gov-
ernment arbitration; the people can prattle
on all they want, but little do they realise
that their government is listening even less
to them than they are to it. They mistrust
their people to such an extent that they have
pledged support to a foreign war without
believing public consent to be necessary, and
that the people’s opinion on the matter to
be too uninformed for their judgement to be
sound. It can hardly be considered surprising
that such a government would turn a deaf
ear to the people’s stance on as convoluted an
issue as conservation in the face of big busi-
ness.
A Great Protest, Utterly Ignored By the Government
by sindri eldon photo by skari
“It felt like things were changing, and that something,
either an event like the January 7th anti-smelter con-
cert or the Independence Party’s impending victory in
the Reykjavík mayoral elections, had suddenly upped
the ante and made people a bit more aware of what
they really fought for.”
On Austurvöllur, right next to the campaign
office of the Independence Party, the Friends
of Iceland had orchestrated a big protest
against heavy-industrialization and proposed
damming projects around the country. There
was a festive spirit in the air as people gathered
to witness the musical acts perform and signed
petitions to the government to halt further
damming projects.
As the biggest political party in Iceland,
and the controlling party in the parliament,
the protest outside was largely directed at the
Independence Party—whose campaign head-
quarters were in the same square as the protest.
Inside their office, however, nobody seemed
the slightest bit worried. Despite the protests
of anguished youths, or maybe because of
them, polls projected the Independence Party
to win a majority of City Council seats and
reclaim control in City Hall, lost in the 1994
mayoral elections.
None of the candidates were present, but
volunteers were freely offering opinions on ev-
erything that mattered, and all that didn’t. An
older volunteer who stood outside the office
and listened to the music coming from the pro-
test concert on Austurvöllur approached me.
“Who is playing?” He asked me. I offered that
this was probably the reggae outfit Hjálmar.
“Ah, yes, Hjálmur. That is very nice,” he
said.
“Friðrik Sophusson was here earlier.” He
added. [Former MP and Minister for the
Independence Party, and current CEO of the
National Power Company, responsible for the
damming projects.]
“I think he is a great man.”
I gave him a confused look.
“He is willing to listen to all sides. He lets
everyone have a say. When the National Power
Company put down the cornerstone for a new
control house for the Kárahnjúkar dam, he let
the protesters put an engraved stone with a
message to future generations in there as well.
“I thought it was a very noble gesture of
him, I respect that. It was democracy in action.
Yes, he is a great man.”
I remained silent for a few seconds while
I pondered whether I should point out that
listening to someone’s point of view after the
fact was not all that noble. Eventually, I just
mumbled something incoherent, not really
wanting to raise a ruckus in the lion’s den.
Instead I ate some more of their liquorice
and observed as the volunteer got into a heated
argument with three youngsters who had
wandered off from the protest site to offer their
opinion on the future of Iceland and heavy
industry.
A decidedly right wing party in Icelandic
politics, the Independence Party had cam-
paigned on central and leftist issues such as
increasing the welfare service in the city, as
opposed to lowering taxes or privatizing city
owned companies. With one poke of a finger,
the wolf had emerged from his sheepskin, and
the whole pretentious sham came crumbling
down.
The irony is that on the same day that
more than 3000 people had gathered to protest
the acts of the Independence Party in the par-
liament, the citizens of Reykjavík were likely to
elect that same party to control City Hall.
High Spirits
The Left-Greens were in the same high spirits
as everyone else. They had brought out a tent
and were serving waffles to anyone who cared
for a taste. I asked Árni Þór Sigurðsson, the
Left-Greens candidate about the upcoming
elections. “I am very optimistic,” Sigurðsson
said. I asked if he was sure to get elected: “Yes
sure, we’ll do a lot better than that.”
We discussed the reports that had surfaced
that the voters turnout was unusually low this
year and Sigurðsson offered the explanation
that the Election Day fell on a day Saturday
that followed a national holiday on Thursday,
therefore a lot of people might have decided to
take the Friday off and leave town for a long
weekend.
“Legend has it that a low Election Day
turnout is in favour of the left side,” he said,
smiling. Obviously, not everyone had lost hope
that the Independence Party could be fended
off from City Hall.
As the election drew to a close, however, it
became obvious that the voters did not particu-
larly care much either way. At the end of the
day, only 77% of registered voters in Reykjavík
had bothered to vote, one of the lowest turn-
outs in the history of the Reykjavík mayoral
elections, in a country that has historically put
a lot of pride in their active participation in the
democratic process in public elections.
In a way, the low turnout was even more
surprising, considering the fact that the race for
City Hall was projected to be extremely close.
According to the latest polls, all parties were
just a few votes short of securing their next
City Council member, and a small change in
percentages could have made the difference in
which side would claim the victory.
Sigurðsson’s explanation might have been
a factor, but more likely the low turnout can
be attributed to the fact that a lot of people
felt they were not presented with clear options.
Leading up to the elections, nominees agreed
that the elections did not really revolve around
ideology, but technicalities. The political
platforms of the parties were frightfully similar.
Even the right wing Independence Party had
gone towards, and even beyond, the middle
ground.
“This is Not What We Had in Mind”
As the polls closed and the first numbers from
the count started to appear, it became apparent
that Sigurðsson’s theory was somewhat holding
up. The Left-Greens were actually gaining
votes, while the Social Democrats were not.
The Liberals were also gaining votes, but the
real losers of the election was the Progres-
sive Party, which saw its support plummet,
although not nearly as much as some polls
had projected. Meanwhile, it looked as if the
Independence Party would win back City Hall,
after 12 years in opposition.
I made the trip to Hotel Nordica where a
Democracy in Action: In your face protestors!
by sveinn birkir björnsson photos by skari and frikki
“When the National Power Company put down the cor-
nerstone for a new control house for the Kárahnjúkar
dam, he let the protesters put an engraved stone with
a message to future generations in there as well. I
thought it was a very noble gesture of him, I respect
that. It was democracy in action. Yes, he is a great
man.”
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