Voting to keep things as they are: the Icelandic debate

Reykjavik. “This year we had thousands of tourists arriving for the eclipse. We were delighted, of course. But their arrival, on such a massive scale, led to a huge rise in prices. Price rises that are here to stay, even after all the tourists have gone home. And this is always the case, whenever inflation strikes or something happens. Our currency is unstable. So is our economy, which is too small to withstand the ups and downs of global markets. That’s why we need Europe: to secure the economic stability that we cannot guarantee for ourselves on our own.” Speaking to “Il Foglio” is Snaeros Sindradottir, head of the ‘Ja’ campaign – the ‘yes’ vote in the EU referendum. She is young, friendly and keen to have a chat. Above all, she is convinced of two things: the first is that Europe is a good deal; the second is that voting ‘yes’ in the referendum is worthwhile because, however paradoxical it may sound in electoral terms, the referendum “won’t change a thing”. One might be tempted to tell her that “vote for us, so that nothing changes” isn’t exactly a great slogan.

“The referendum is not about joining the EU. The referendum is about resuming the talks that were suspended more than ten years ago. If, through the vote, we decide to restart the talks, however, the outcome of those talks will have to be put to another public vote. In this sense, we like to say that voting ‘yes’ is important because voting ‘yes’ changes nothing. If, on the other hand, people vote ‘no’, then everything changes. Because the prospect of bringing Iceland and the EU closer together would be closed off for who knows how long. Perhaps forever,” says Sindradottir. The poll results are mixed and merely indicate a very slight lead for the ‘yes’ vote: 52 per cent, or at most 53 per cent. And so, what is striking about Sindradottir, as she speaks to us from her committee’s small headquarters, just a stone’s throw from the Parliament in Reykjavik, is that she does not have the combative tone of someone engaged in an election campaign she considers vital for her country’s future. On the contrary, she has the cautious tone of someone who knows that the battle, however important, is a difficult one, and so she is playing it safe: “We’re optimistic, of course. But we’re also aware that it’s not easy.”

“The point,” he explains, “is that it is very difficult for us to counter the ‘No’ campaign with our own campaign. And the reason it is difficult is the very nature of the referendum, which is not about joining the EU, but about resuming negotiations. In practice, what we’re saying is: ‘Let’s see what happens’,” he says, showing us one of the campaign’s promotional stickers bearing the slogan “Eurocurious”. “In contrast, those campaigning for a ‘no’ vote are portraying this vote as if it would automatically lead to the country joining the EU and, just as automatically, to a – yet-to-be-proven – loss of Icelandic sovereignty over their own country. None of this is true. But to many people, it seems credible.”

And this discrepancy – with the blue flag waved like a crutch and a bogeyman – captures much of the atmosphere surrounding Europe’s reputation at this moment in history: a political framework which, however innovative and revolutionary it has been and remains, and however full of obvious benefits it has been and remains for those who are part of it, is often portrayed and perceived as an Orwellian bureaucracy rife with technicalities and absurd rules. And as a substantial curtailment of sovereignty, rather than, as is in fact the case, an extension of it.

And it is precisely here – on the issue of Iceland’s potential loss of sovereignty – that the ‘No’ campaign is fighting hardest. Particularly on one issue: fishing. In Iceland, fishing accounts for more than 10 per cent of GDP and, as well as being an economic issue, is a cultural one. The country has worked for decades to prevent problems of overfishing in its waters and, ultimately, through a system of strict quotas and a ban on trawling, it has succeeded. This is no small achievement, considering that, according to UN figures, more than 35 per cent of marine species are overfished and that, in the Mediterranean, according to FAO figures, as much as 80 per cent of fish stocks are overfished.

Iceland could well have suffered a similar fate had it not radically changed course from the late 1970s onwards. Today, in fact, not only is trawling banned, but every year the Icelandic government consults data from the Marine and Freshwater Research Institute (MFRI) on available fish stocks and, based on this, sets the TAC – the total allowable catch – for each species. This total is then divided into quotas, which are tradable and are allocated and sold to individual fishing vessels: each vessel may only catch the percentage of the available fish stock corresponding to its own quota. It must be said that this system is not unlike the European one, but with one difference: in the EU, quotas are allocated by country and, subsequently, every European vessel has essentially free access to Iceland’s highly productive waters. This is something, it must be said, that no Icelander is willing to tolerate.

To get an idea of the scale of things, suffice it to say that in the 1950s, British fishing boats that had approached the coast of Iceland were intercepted by Icelandic vessels which, without further ado, rammed them and cut their nets. Furthermore, in Iceland nobody trusts the European quota system: if the Europeans have allowed the devastation of their own seas, how could they prevent the same devastation from happening in Iceland? “If we resume talks with the EU, a large part of these will inevitably have to focus on the fisheries system,” continues Sindradottir, “which is crucial for many people.” So, even now, it is clear that if Iceland and the EU were to sit down at the same table, the EU would be open to derogations and exceptions. It is not, however, clear to what extent and in what way this system of derogations could be considered credible and sustainable over time.

Apart from fishing, there are at least two other major issues on which Iceland is keen to retain a free hand: aluminium – the American company Alcoa operates a massive and highly polluting plant there – and geothermal energy, a sector that has attracted huge Chinese investment, the promoters and beneficiaries of which, naturally, are not keen on the prospect of Iceland joining the EU. And yet, although the arguments against accession are rooted in the proverbial mistrust of a population of just 300,000 people – historically and geographically isolated, having gained independence only in 1944 – and centre on issues where the country is keen to retain complete autonomy in decision-making, the arguments in favour, according to the polls, are gaining ground. And this hard-won progress is essentially based on three key facts.

“The first,” lists Sindradottir, “as we were saying, is the economy; the second is the fact that, like it or not, Iceland is already extremely closely linked to the EU, since we are already part of the European Economic Area, which, for example, extends the rules of the single market and the Schengen Agreement to our country as well; the third factor, which has become decisive in recent months, is that of security”. Iceland, in fact, has no standing army, nor a navy, nor an air force. For its internal security, it relies on the Coastguard and the police; for its external security, on its NATO allies, of which it has been a member since the organisation’s foundation. “We are aware that, in today’s world and given the new strategic importance of the Arctic, this support might not be sufficient. Both because of what the United States’ ambitions regarding Greenland have taught us, and because we realise that war today is no longer just about rifles and cannons, but also about cyber security, the security of cables and hybrid threats. Even trade tariffs. Placing ourselves within a broader framework, such as the European one, would offer us greater safeguards.”