Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.02.2018, Qupperneq 16

An Independent
War On Media
Iceland’s Independence Party enjoys a privileged
relationship with the media, but at what cost?
Words: Alice Demurtas Photo: Art Bicnick
The past few years have been
complicated for the International
press. As the choke on media and
freedom of the press is tightened
all over the world, the present looks
grimmer than ever.
The U-turn taken by govern-
ments and powerful individuals
when it comes to media freedom
is blatantly visible, even in coun-
tries where democracies are fal-
tering and tribal nationalism is on
the rise. The daily pantomime that
is Donald Trump’s attacks on the
news media goes from serious to
laughable, while Turkish authori-
ties have made unspecified terror-
ism threats a scapegoat to reduce
pluralism.
While Iceland hasn’t
gone down that road
yet, freedom of infor-
mation seems to be in
decline. Pluralism and
the concentration of
ownership have been
a local issue until the
advent of the inter-
net, and even now, the
mainstream media
outlets are owned by
only two companies. Yet, while Re-
porters Without Borders rank Ice-
land 10th in the 2017 World Press
Freedom Index, they also specify
that “the situation of journalists
has worsened since 2012 because
relations between politicians and
the media have soured.”
The root of the issue
Icelandic politics and the media
have been intertwined for decades,
with the Independence Party en-
joying a particularly privileged
relationship. Since its inception,
five out of eleven editors of local
mainstream media outlet Mor-
gunblaðið were also members of
the Independence Party, including
members of Parliament, mayors,
and often both.
Bjarni Benediktsson, the hom-
onymous great-uncle of Iceland’s
former Prime Minister, and Davið
Oddsson, former mayor of Reykja-
vík for the party as well as Prime
Minister, are the most obvious ex-
amples. On the other hand, the big-
gest local newspaper Fréttablaðið
was always associated with left-
wing parties, despite its founder
affiliation with the Independence
Party.
But what happens when media
outlets that might not have sur-
vived in a pre-internet era, develop
instead on a network that is inde-
pendent of political participation?
A mediatic coup
In 2003, Davið Oddsson’s right-
wing government tried to propose
a bill that planned to tackle media
ownership but was rather aimed at
dissolving the media corporation
365 Miðlar—owner of the newspa-
per Fréttablaðið—in order to shut
down the paper, and leaving Mor-
gunblaðið to play the game alone.
Since almost 80% of the public
was against the Media Act, the gov-
ernment decided to withdraw it,
only to propose a new bill in 2004.
Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson, presi-
dent at the time, ex-
ercised his right to
veto the bill.
The
Stundin
Case
Nearly 15 years after
the attempted media
coup, however, a new
contentious incident
has made headlines:
the Stundin case.
An independent media outlet
with a big online following, Stun-
din veers away from quick news re-
porting favouring instead longer,
investigative pieces. In October,
the local District Commissioner
of Reykjavík issued an injunction
against Stundin prohibiting the
staff to investigate and report on
the financial dealings of former
Prime Minister Bjarni Benedikts-
son and his family with Glitnir,
a bank involved in the economic
crash of 2008.
Glitnir justified the injunction
by arguing that Article 58 of the
Law on Financial Institutions pro-
tects the right to privacy and con-
fidentiality of clients whose names
appear in Stundin’s leaked docu-
ments, forgetting that Stundin
“only covers things that we believe
are relevant to the public,” as Stun-
din’s editor Jón Trausti Reynisson
told The Grapevine.
An independent
commissioner
Even if Glitnir’s argument were plau-
sible, however, it’s interesting to see
how only Bjarni, and Bjarni alone,
was named in their demands—
not the aforementioned clients.
It’s also worth noting that the
District Commissioner of Reykja-
vík, Þórólfur Halldórsson, has been
tied to the Independence Party since
the beginning of his career when
he still worked in the North of Ice-
land. As media outlet DV reported
in 1992, Þórólfur was transferred
elsewhere because of his odd habit
of aggressively questioning vari-
ous opponents of the party. While
in the North, Þórólfur was also
the chairman of the constituency
council of the Independence Party.
A familiar
pattern
On his part, the former Prime Min-
ister was quick to claim he never
requested the injunction himself,
and even DV’s research on Þóról-
fur’s background proves little to
nothing. The only thing that is
certain is that to this day, Stundin
is still barred from reporting on
Bjarni and his dealings until fur-
ther notice from the District Court.
Perhaps the Independence Party
isn’t collectively involved in bar-
ring the media from doing their
job. However, it’s undeniable that
individuals in the party seem to
have a constant contention with
media outlets that divulge in-
formation they don’t approve of.
These are dangerous patterns,
wherever they stem from: we’d do
well to remember them before it’s
too late."
16 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 02 — 2018
Davíð Oddsson (right) during his PM days
“Iceland's
mainstream
media
outlets are
owned by
only two
companies .”
The Reykjavík
Catwalk
A brief history of cats in Iceland

Words: Nanna Árnadóttir Photo: Art Bicnick
You see these cats on these
streets? Of course you do. Reyk-
javik has all the cats. There are
so many questions to ask about
these fluffy little loaves roam-
ing 101, begging for pats and
fish treats. Why do we love these
assholes? Where do they come
from? What are they doing here?
First cat from 870
Menja von Schmalensee, a biolo-
gist and ecologist at the West Ice-
land Centre for Natural History,
knows more. “Cats were most like-
ly imported to Iceland by the early
settlers, between the years 870 and
930,” she says. “Cats were already
very popular in the Nordic coun-
tries at that time due to their effi-
ciency in controlling mice and rats,
and were also valued for their fur.”
In fact, cat furs were once a le-
gally approved currency in Iceland,
worth more than Arctic fox furs.
More than 20,000
A committee on the protection of
animals in Iceland estimates that
there are currently more than
20,000 cats in Iceland, and more
than 20,000 dogs too, and yet it
seems like there are more felines
faffing about on the streets. This
might be because dogs are more of-
ten found in the countryside. And
why might that be? Paperwork.
“In Iceland, you have to apply
for permission to keep a dog in
many municipalities,” said Menja.
“This is a process where someone
might get a rejection, but it’s more
a formality—an attempt to regis-
ter the number of dogs in the [city]
and their whereabouts. Dog own-
ers also have to pay a yearly fee for
this permit, but you don’t have to
pay a fee for your cat.