Reykjavík Grapevine - nóv. 2020, Blaðsíða 8

8 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 09— 2020
The collapse of Iceland’s economy in
late 2008 incited a tremendous amount
of anger in the nation’s people. While
the Special Investigation Commis-
sion formed in the aftermath sought
to determine who and what was to
blame for the collapse, the feeling
amongst many Icelanders was that the
entire system needed to fundamentally
change—including the creation of a
new constitution.
Iceland’s constitution is more or
less borrowed from the Danes, and has
changed very little since 1874, when
the country was known as the King-
dom of Iceland. Following the collapse,
the nation sought an update through
democratic processes great and small,
resulting in a draft for a new consti-
tution. As it stands today, Iceland
remains stuck with the constitution it
has had since 1944, when the country
first gained independence.
How was the constitutional draft
created, what changes does it seek to
make and why is Iceland still waiting
for its reboot? To understand a decade’s
worth of questions, we need to start at
the impetus—and speak to some of the
people who are still fighting for the
new constitution, which even the most
recent polls show is something that
matters a lot to most Icelanders.
The people’s
council
Much like the "pots and pans" protests
of 2008 and 2009, the creation of the
constitutional draft was a grassroots
effort, albeit with a more formalised
process. It began with then-Prime
Minister Jóhanna Sigur!ardóttir
submitting a bill to Parliament in 2009
for the creation of a Constitutional
Assembly, which would be tasked
with reviewing the existing constitu-
tion. This bill was made law, with the
amendment that a National Forum
would consult on what constitutional
changes should actually be made.
The National Forum drew about
1,000 people to offer their ideas on what
the new constitution should focus on.
The topics that the everyday Icelanders
who participated in the Forum brought
up is a reflection of what many saw as
recurring problems in Icelandic soci-
ety: a need for greater transparency
in government and a more democratic
elections; stronger protections for the
environment and natural resources;
and clearer codification of human
rights.
All great ideas, but formalising
them into a constitutional draft would
involve a more focused effort—one
that was not without its problems.
Assemble the
assembly
The idea behind the Constitutional
Assembly was noble. Those who had
served in or run for public office
were prohibited from running for the
Assembly; the idea here was to have
25 people who were not professional
politicians, but who were elected by
the people, prepare the constitutional
draft. Elections were held and the
results came in on November 30, 2010.
Two problems soon became appar-
ent. First, turn-out for these elections
was very low: only 37% of eligible voters
bothered casting ballots. Second, and
far more troubling, complaints were
lodged with the Supreme Court within
days of the election that the election
itself should be declared invalid.
These complaints took issue with
the procedures of the elections them-
selves, including the lack of privacy
provided by voting booth partitions
and the use of ballot boxes that could
not be locked. These complaints were
compelling enough to the court for
them to rule the elections invalid in
January 2011.
Undeterred, Jóhanna simply had
these 25 individuals appointed to a
Constitutional Council, which was
then tasked with writing the constitu-
tional draft.
“Crowd-
sourcing” the
constitution
At this point, the task of working out
the finer points of the constitutional
draft was not solely in the hands of
the Council. The people were also
directly involved through a website
where Icelanders were encouraged to
offer suggestions on specific articles,
clauses and amendments.
It was this aspect that attracted the
greatest degree of international atten-
tion, often framed in headlines cele-
brating that “Iceland is crowdsourcing
its constitution.” During a time when
many countries were still recovering
from their own financial crises—and
questioning the political systems that
enabled them—the Icelandic people
re-writing their constitution was aspi-
rational.
In July 2011, a draft proposal was
submitted to Parliament. Specific arti-
cles of this draft, and whether to write
a new constitution based on the draft,
were put to a national referendum in
2012. 66.3% of voters in the referendum
said that they wanted a new constitu-
tion based on the draft that was drawn
up by the Constitutional Council the
year previous. The people also voted
on specific changes, such as having
natural resources that are not privately
owned to be declared national prop-
erty; giving equal weight to votes cast
in all parts of the country; a provision
stating that a certain proportion of the
electorate is able to demand that issues
are put to a referendum; and more.
It looked like Iceland was on the
fast track to getting its long-awaited,
democratic, modern constitution. But
that didn’t happen.
Up on
a shelf
Katrín Oddsdóttir, a human rights
lawyer and chair of the Constitutional
Society in Iceland, has been a part of
the fight for the new constitution from
the very beginning.
"What we have been doing ever
since—for eight years now—is fighting
for this result of the national referen-
dum to be honoured,” she says. “It is a
huge democratic paradox to be fight-
ing your own Parliament to honour a
referendum that Parliament called for.
I don't think this happens very often
in democratic societies, that the legis-
lature calls for a referendum but then
ignores it based on the fact that this
was a consolatory referendum and not
a binding one."
Katrín believes there are systemic
forces at work resisting the new consti-
tution, both within Parliament and in
the business world.
"Systems reject change,” she says.
“There [are] articles in the new consti-
tution which say, for example, that
natural resources belong to the nation
and that the nation should get full price
for the usage for its fisheries. Currently,
we have a system where maybe 100
people … in Iceland make most of the
money for huge fisheries. According
to law, they are owned by the nation,
but for some weird reason, the nation
only gets about 20% of the actual profit.
But it doesn't really matter, because in
Iceland, justice finds its way. It's taking
time, sure, but in the end it will go well
Where Is The New
Constitution?
A nation still waits
for Iceland 2.0
Katrín Oddsdóttir