Grapevine: Í stríðsham

Þessi grein sem ég skrifaði á ensku birtist í síðasta tölublaði mánaðarblaðsins Grapevine. Hér er slóðin á greinina einsog hún birtist á vef Grapevine.

- - -

Davíð Oddsson On The Warpath

The ongoing saga of modern Icelands most influential figure

In the summer of 2000 I met then leader of the British Conservative Party William Hague. The party was doing very badly in the polls. I mentioned to Mr. Hague that in Iceland we had a conservative politician who was a born winner, had never lost an election, was idolised by a large percentage of the population-a man who could give the British Conservatives a piece of advice or two.

The man was of course Davíð Oddsson. By then he had been prime minister of Iceland for nine years, before that he was a popular mayor of Reykjavík for a decade. Iceland was experiencing prosperity; Oddsson was even being mentioned as the greatest politician of the 20th century by some.

As I mentioned to William Hague, Oddsson was a man who could have made it to the political top of any country-extremely intelligent, witty, with a way of coining catchy phrases, as I pointed out. He also had an artistic temperament, having been a radio comic in his younger days, as well as a playwright, part time actor and writer of short stories. He was also very cunning, even ruthless, always managing to outsmart his enemies.

A sarcastic pope

Oddsson was never your run of the mill party man-he was far too

unconventional for that-even if his first loyalty was always to the

Independence party and its traditions. In parliament he might thrash

his opponents with his sarcasm, whereas at party conventions he put on

the guise of a pope, as if these were almost holy gatherings.

Thus Oddsson was always quite fascinating, and even to this day he

remains somewhat of a mystery. A real biography of the man could be

quite a read.

In 2002, things started to go sour. Maybe Oddsson should have quit by

then. Had he left the stage, he would have left a shining legacy for

the history books. But this was not in his character. Never very

principled about his methods, it became evident that he was running

things with a tight group of his cronies, some of them old school

mates, others partners from his bridge table, many of whom became very

adept at badmouthing his adversaries and spreading gossip. Oddsson

became increasingly capricious and vindictive. His charm also started

waning; the jokes became rather lame, appealing only to the party

faithful.

At this stage Oddsson no longer tolerated any opposition. The

atmosphere within his sizable parliamentary party has been described by

insiders as “suffocating.” Party meetings became hallelujah-conventions

where no criticism of the leader and his policies was tolerated.

Icelandic society in that period has been compared to an alcoholic

household, where you never know what mood the pater familias might be

in at any given moment, so everybody has to tiptoe around him.

His popularity was also dwindling. Almost single-handedly Oddsson

decided to declare Icelands support for the invasion of Iraq, putting

Iceland on the list of the „coalition of the willing,“ possibly as a

way of appeasing the US government intent on closing its military base

in Keflavík. Oddsson even went to the White House and sang a birthday

song for George W. Bush. However, the Americans left soon after. There

are still demands that Icelands support for the invasion be researched

by the parliament.

The culmination of this transformation was his mission against some of

the newly wealthy business Vikings, notably Jón Ásgeir Jóhannesson of

Baugur and his father, retail magnate Jóhannes Jónsson of the Bónus

chain stores. Oddsson was in some ways prescient about the dangers

posed by these new financiers. But, true to his nature, he took this to

a personal level, once referring to Jón Ásgeir as a „hooligan“.

Not a question of principles

Oddsson put enormous effort into trying to shut down the Jón Ásgeirs

empire of newspapers, radio and television stations-later thwarted by

the Icelandic presidents refusal to sign the bill-while at the same

time privatising the main banks into the hands of other groups of

business Vikings, namely father and son team Björgólfur Guðmundsson and

Björgólfur Thor Björgólfsson-later of Icesave fame-who had just

returned from Russia, where they apparently had become fabulously

wealthy from making beer.

Therefore, as often in Oddssons history, this was not a question of

principles, but of his personal likes and dislikes. Even if he was

surrounded by liberalist ideologues from his early days, he never had

much patience for analysis or philosophical contemplation. For him, Jón

Ásgeir and Jóhannes were bad guys; the two Björgólfurs were good guys.

Simple as that. This remained his version of reality when he was

governor of the Central Bank and the whole Icelandic banking system was

crumbling down-including the Landsbanki owned by Team Björgólfur, who,

as it transpired, hadnt even paid for the bank in the first place.

By then Oddsson was ill and had to convalesce for a while. He became

foreign minister for a year, and then he nominated himself to be

governor of the Central Bank. His successor as party leader and Prime

Minister was former Minister of Finance Geir H. Haarde, a faithful

party man, noted for being fair and polite. Not a man with a big ego.

The ego has not yet landed

Haarde once remarked in an interview that some people were maybe

destined to be number two. But now he was out on his own as a PM, in a

party that had been moulded by Oddssons ego. And that ego was still

around, as its bearer had only moved over one small lawn of grass, from

the Prime Ministers Office to the Central Bank, where he kept on with

his machinations via his famous telephone calls. Oddsson prided himself

on not writing anything down when he served as PM, and of being

computer illiterate.

The relationship between these two men, Haarde and Oddsson, might be

one of the focal points in understanding the crisis that culminated in

October 2008. Of course it is extraordinary to make a controversial

politician of Oddssons stature-a lawyer, not an economist-into

governor of a Central Bank. As the crisis developed, Haarde remained in

close contact with his old leader while at the same time keeping

information from his own ministers.

Oddsson claims that he gave numerous warnings of the impending

collapse, but Haarde is very vague on this. To many of Haardes closest

collaborators, it came as a complete surprise when one of the banks,

Glitnir, was suddenly taken over by the government, triggering the

downfall of the remaining banks a few days later.

Many of these decisions might be understandable, but good governance they were not.

Big brothers watching you

At this point Oddsson came into a meeting of the government, a

coalition of the Independence Party and the Social Democrats, and

demanded that a national government comprising every party be founded.

This could conceivably have happened through complicated political

manoeuvres, but the history of Oddssons very advocacy of the idea made

it almost impossible.

It seems that Oddsson had become a sort of an inferiority complex

inducing big brother figure to Haarde. He had been following Oddsons

lead ever since his school days. For him, sacrificing Oddsson, for

example by firing him from the Central Bank, was unthinkable, whereas

Oddsson would not have hesitated to sacrifice Haarde in the blink of an

eye.

Of course, Haarde was first Minister of Finance and then Prime

Minister, so he has much to answer for. On the other hand, he makes for

a convenient fall guy. Thus he is being presented as a sort of an

aberration within the party history, an error best forgotten, whereas

the party policies and institutions were sound at all times.

Reform? What reform?

A defining moment was the party convention in March of 2009. Members of

the partys grassroots had prepared a meticulous report on how things

had failed and on the need to reform the party. Late in the convention,

Oddsson asked for a word, burst upon the stage, and gave a speech where

he tore the report apart with his usual sarcasm and, true to form,

blamed anybody but himself. In his mind there was no room for soul

searching. Mistakes should never be admitted.

At that time, the new left wing government had successfully driven

Oddsson out of the Central bank, whose policies had failed dismally,

fuelling economic hypertension, currency speculation and carry trade.

The banks had grown to twelve times the size of the economy, with the

fatal flaw of an unsound currency and a Central Bank that was incapable

of backing them up. Through complicated speculation, the banks had

managed to strip the Central Bank of its funds, leaving it technically

bankrupt, so the government had to come to its rescue.

Oddson on the warpath

Never one to rest, Oddsson was now on the warpath. He is not a man to

sit down and write his memoirs, for him it is unthinkable not to be

pulling the strings. He set his eyes on the editorship of Morgunblaðið,

the formerly near-almighty daily newspaper in Iceland. It is said that

he called in all sorts of favours to attain the position, and he

finally succeeded when a small group of fishing-quota owners managed to

buy the almost bankrupt newspaper, now but a shadow what it was in its

heyday.

Since Oddsson took over, readers have abandoned the newspaper in

droves. Now, the newspaper that spent many decades building a broad

readership base has turned into a vehicle for Oddssons personal tirade

of likes and dislikes; it is militantly anti-EU, pro quota owners,

against any compromise in the Icesave scandal, vehemently anti-Jón

Ásgeir and Jóhannes Jóhannesson, who teeter at the brink of bankruptcy.

Oddssons energy is remarkable; he himself pens the majority of

Morgunblaðiðs editorial materials himself.

Oddsons magic

This erratic giant of Icelandic politics for three decades is thus

still trying to decide the fate of his party, and of the Icelandic

nation. Political enemies refer to his tight group of followers as „The

Court of the Dead,“ which of course is rather rude. That, however,

reflects the anger and strong feelings Oddsson provokes in many parts.

In some ways, it is convenient to use American politics as metaphor for

the Independence Party, and talk about Oddssons unapologetic

Republican group and the more conciliatory Democrat side to the party.

Many within the party are still very susceptible to Oddsons magic. His

influence seems to be on the rise again, and some even see a return of

the bad old days when party members dared not speak their mind for fear

of retribution. Present party chairman Bjarni Benediktsson seems very

indecisive; he faces the challenge of keeping at least the perception

of the party being at peace, not an easy task with the old leader and

his big ego still lurking.

The more timid “Democrats” fear Oddssons ascent and have finally begun

organizing themselves by forming a pro-EU fraction within the party-a

move considered treasonous by many of Oddsons followers-and by placing

one from their ranks as editor of Fréttablaðið, Icelands most widely

read newspaper: owned by the aforementioned Jón Ásgeir Jóhannesson, the

constant arch-enemy of Davíð Oddsson.