Letter from Iceland #35
The "kind of torpor" edition
Góðan dag!
Before I get started, let me send a big thank you to all who participated in my little survey on what content you would most like to see in this newsletter. It was gratifying that most of you said you’d like to a mixed bag, which is basically what I have been serving up for, oh, about two decades. Good to know! 😄 So I’ll just carry on as usual, though I am always open to your input.
An extra big THANK YOU to those who have become paying subscribers, also for your messages and kind words. While this platform is great in many ways, it’s a little convoluted in others, and I have not found a way to respond to the kind messages you send when you upgrade to paid—please just know that I see them, read them, and am delighted to receive them. 🫶
Okay then!
Two weeks ago there was a terrible accident in Grindavík, when a man fell into a fissure in the ground that had formed in the violent earthquakes that shook the town in November. He was part of a team of workmen who were filling cracks that had split open, in an effort to make it safe to enter the town again and for people to move back home. Nb. this was prior to the eruption that happened the Sunday before last, which has made it unequivocally clear that the town is not safe, and that no one will be living there in the foreseeable future.
The fissure into which the man fell turned out to be around 30 metres deep, and at the bottom there was water flowing beneath the ground. The top was fairly narrow, but it opened into a concave space that made it very dangerous to rappel down to search for the missing man. Adding to this was the fact that rocks and debris were crumbling from the top and sides, which made it life-threatening for anyone to be down there.
And so, after more than 48 hours of operations with no trace of the missing man, the search was terminated, and the man presumed dead.
It was a tragic, terrifying occurrence, and my condolences go out to the man’s family and friends.
I know this may seem inappropriate to some, and I hasten to say that I do not wish to seem judgemental or disrespectful … but honestly, this tragic event raises a few questions.
For instance, why would someone order, or authorize, the filling of those fissures while there was still ongoing seismic activity in the area, with magma forcing its way below ground just a few kilometres away? Or even without adequately checking how deep those fissures were, or whether this was indeed a feasible operation.
Why would someone authorize a workman to begin compressing material that had been dumped into this fissure in the ground without investigating whether there was a concave space beneath that was primed to swallow both man and equipment?
And why would someone presume that going into the town and filling a few cracks would make it safe, and after that everyone could just go home again?
Again—I do not wish to pass judgement, or to belittle the experiences of those who just wanted to return to their former way of life. I know many people were in unsatisfactory circumstances, sleeping on couches at the homes of relatives and suchlike, and I totally understand the need and desire to get back to normal. But still. It seemed like exceedingly wishful thinking, especially considering that scientists have been telling us to prepare for years, or even decades, of geological unrest in the area.
When that terrible accident happened, the mayor of Grindavík was initially not available for comment. When he did appear, he said that all the residents were in deep shock, and needed a chance to come to terms with this new reality. Which indicates that this event shook them out of a kind of torpor, as though they had been in firm denial, and only with that loss of life did they fully wake up to the fact that they weren’t going back. That they, or one of theirs, could be next.
Living for centuries in an unforgiving environment and harsh climate has indubitably given us Icelandic people a certain humility and respect for the forces of nature.
It has moreover given us a unique skill set when it comes to tackling adversity—a no-nonsense approach to getting things done in a crisis.
And yet, it has also given us a certain recklessness, a foolhardiness, a þetta reddast attitude, which at times feels a little too close to a certain reality blindness. I suspect it may be closely related to the betrayal blindness that afflicts the Icelandic nation when it comes to political corruption, which I wrote about here.
And yet. Now, less than a month after the band-aid solution of filling cracks was implemented, the truth has sunk in: we are facing, in economic terms, the worst national disaster in Iceland’s history. It calls for all sorts of drastic (and costly) measures. The people of this flourishing, prosperous town must grieve the loss of their homes, their property, and their community. And in the face of this massive crisis we Icelanders must once again show what we are made of.
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