Reykjavík Grapevine - 04.03.2016, Side 16

16The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 3 — 2016
In the 1940s, the most common way for
a young man to see the world was to join
the army. For young women, it was nurs-
ing. I mean this from a North American
perspective. It’s strange to look at all the
young tourists flooding Iceland, looking
to find themselves in these economically
uncertain times in a world advertised
as always on the brink of war, and not
think of my grandfather’s generation at-
tempting to do the same thing. Both my
and my grandfather’s generations were
looking for the same thing: perspective,
adventure, sex, excitement. My genera-
tion does this while hiding behind the
self-righteous pursuit of culture and a
desire to become worldly. My grandfa-
ther’s generation did this while hiding
behind the self-righteous pursuit of be-
ing heroes, fighters, soldiers. At the in-
dividual level, we are all the same, while
economics, politics, friends and enemies
change—as do reasons.
My grandfather arrived in Iceland
in July of 1940, with the 1st Battalion of
The Cameron Highlanders Of Ottawa.
He was part of the Canadian “Z” Force.
He was to help with training and keep
troops on the base disciplined in case of
an attack by German forces. Iceland was
considered a very strategic location in
the North Atlantic, being roughly mid-
way between North America and Eu-
rope.
Soldiers were well-dressed and lis-
tened to jazz music, attracting the atten-
tion of young women in Iceland (prob-
ably men, too, but that wasn’t written
about in those times). It was exciting to
see new people and the response wasn’t
much different from the behaviour and
sights we see on Laugavegur every week-
end nowadays: palpable lust and intrigue
alongside revulsion and fear. Though,
I don’t think it was as on display or ac-
cessible. There was a lot more sneaking
around back then.
Historically that time is called “The
Situation” and women who got involved
with foreign soldiers were disgustingly—
though, sadly, not unexpectedly—ostra-
cized. I wonder if I’m related to anyone
here in Iceland? My grandfather was one
of those strange, uncommon humans
who enjoyed drinking and sex.
My grandfather’s time in Iceland end-
ed in April 1941, when he was moved to
England and Scotland, eventually join-
ing the Allied Forces in Normandy in
June 1944. He served in the Canadian
military a few more years after the war,
living in military bases around Europe,
but he never returned to Iceland, though
he never forgot it. It was the first place
he’d ever been outside of Canada. Iceland
was, like it is for many North Americans
today, an interesting anecdote, a cool sto-
ry, something exotic, a string of memo-
ries consisting of long nights. He would
never have considered himself part of an
invasion, but historically and factually
that’s exactly what he participated in.
My girlfriend’s aunt met her husband
Marty, an American soldier, at the base in
Keflavík. For her, it was love, but she also
got to live all around the world—some-
thing not easily achieved, for a young
Icelandic woman in the 1950s. Before
she met Marty, she worked as a steward-
ess, hosting and entertaining the likes of
Frank Sinatra and Bob Hope (Bob called
her his “little Eskimo”). She had tasted
freedom, but the logistics of really leav-
ing Iceland were not very likely. Now she
lives part-time in Iceland and part-time
in Florida. Similar to my grandfather,
she lived on military bases throughout
Europe.
It looks today like the American
Navy is planning to return to the former
NATO base in Keflavík. This invasion
seems like archaic imperialism to some
of us. We prefer imperialism to be cul-
tural. If people are going to invade, they
should be doing it in civilian clothing,
with a camera in one hand and a to-go
cup in the other. I agree that this is prob-
ably better (although the economic ben-
efits of the NATO base are for a different
article).
My grandfather is dead. The first
place I have lived outside of Canada is
Iceland. I wonder if he felt the same
sense of belonging here that I do. Did
the salty air excite him? Did the sul-
furous water smooth his skin? Did the
landscape become part of his psychol-
ogy? Maybe, maybe not. I’m not even
sure what it means for a landscape to
join with your psychology. That’s just
something people say when they come
here. My grandfather and I might not
have agreed on anything about Iceland,
but we both would have agreed that we
didn’t feel like invaders.
SHARE: gpv.is/bridge
Starting in 1940, Iceland’s occupation
by Allied forces during WWII was for
the most part a peaceful one, at least
compared to what went on in the rest
of Europe at the time. The period was
nonetheless a tumultuous one for the
fledgling island nation, which under-
went some of the most radical changes
in its recorded history within the span
of a few short years. Spurred by the sud-
den influx of global military powers,
Iceland’s transformation from a rural
farming and fishing society into a mod-
ern state happened almost overnight,
leading to mass migration to the capital.
At the time there were only 120,000
Icelanders, a third of whom lived in the
greater Reykjavík area. Yet at the peak
of the UK’s occupation of Iceland, some
25,000 soldiers were stationed in the
country—later replaced by 50,000 US
servicemen once the US assumed control
of the island.
For a nation that had been isolated for
so long, the overabundance of so many
young, eligible and well-mannered for-
eigners challenged all existing Icelan-
dic courting traditions, and many local
women took a fancy to these newcomers.
The resulting atmosphere, which saw
hundreds of Icelandic women court or
wed soldiers—and an untold many bear
them children—is commonly referred to
as “Ástandið” (“The Situation”).

Treasonous trysts
Predictably, this “Situation” proved a
great source of conflict over the course
of the occupation. The court of public
opinion firmly branded any woman that
consorted with soldiers as a “Situation
Girl,” not so subtly suggesting that they
were at best promiscuous, or even pros-
titutes. Local newspapers published
op-eds suggesting that they were com-
mitting treason, and should be paraded
through town with shaved heads. Many
of those women would carry that shame
to their grave.
Soon enough, local authorities and
the government introduced measures
meant to counter what they saw as an
alarming trend. As many of the women
were teenagers, the government passed
legislation barring them from consort-
ing with soldiers. Per the legislation, po-
lice were to follow up on any leads about
children and teenagers consorting with
soldiers and pass them onto child protec-
tion services.
These young girls, often only twelve
to fifteen years old, were tried by the
courts and sent out to the countryside,
even though many of them said the sol-
diers had coerced them. Of the 62 girls
that were sentenced, some fourteen were
sent to an institute in Kleppjárnsreykir,
West Iceland, where the adolescents
were made to endure inhumane condi-
tions, including solitary confinement.
Straight from the source
Jóhanna Knudsen, a former nurse and
the first female Icelandic police officer,
spearheaded this effort. Jóhanna was
aggressive in her mission, circumventing
the law to follow her agenda, and guid-
ing officials in sentencing. She was given
free rein to do so, often with disastrous
consequences.
We met with filmmaker Alma Ómars-
dóttir, who recently made a documen-
tary about Jóhanna. Currently a reporter
for Iceland’s national broadcasting ser-
vice, RÚV, Alma was introduced to her
film’s subject through her master’s stud-
ies in journalism, where “The Situation”
was the topic of her thesis.
After reading through countless po-
lice, medical and court reports from the
time, Alma is convinced that Jóhanna
had a lot of support for her actions. “She
was acting on behalf of a powerful group
of people,” Alma says. “We are talking
about politicians, the Director General
of Public Health, and more.”
When asked if soldiers who were ac-
cused of coercing girls into sexual acts
had been investigated, Alma says that for
the most part, they weren’t. “There were
a few examples of reported rapes being
investigated, like one where a group of
soldiers came upon a couple out in the
fields and held the man down as they
raped the woman,” she recollects. “There
was another when a soldier abused a ten-
year-old girl, and they came down hard
on him, but if the girls had put them-
selves into a precarious situation, like go-
ing to a dance where there were soldiers,
then there was no investigation.”
Alma reveals that her motivation for
making the film was to raise awareness
of what really happened, and exonerate
the people involved who have carried
the shame for so long. “It’s predominantly
been the older generation that has attend-
ed the film,” she says, “and the result has
been a lot of people’s eyes being opened.”
SHARE: gpv.is/situ
The Base As
A Bridge
Built On
Good
Intentions
By York
Under-
wood
Slut-Shaming And
State-Sponsored
Persecution In
“Situation”-
Era Iceland
By Gabríel
Benjamin
T
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U
S
A
rm
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Is
R
et
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ni
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T
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