Why?
Because it's controversial? No. Because there's so much data? No. Because I've been here long enough to see the patterns repeating themselves? No, it's because I've come to realise that this issue is simply intractable. Like the Arab-Israeli issue, or Northern Ireland, or so many issues, this is one that I simply have to accept will not be resolved in my lifetime.
I had a very interesting long conversation with a close expat friend Bob the other day, who has been here slightly longer than me and has an unnervingly similar back-story, involving Icelandic females, alcohol and doses of pheromones large enough to fell oxen.
Bob remarked: "I sound like a bloody stuck record when it comes to The Denmark Issue". I agreed and admitted that I'd been through the same diatribe so many times that it was even more tiresome than explaining which part of the UK I'm from and no, it was my choice to come here, and no, Icelandic isn't difficult, and no, 'home' for me does not mean somewhere in the UK.
Bob told me that the other day in his office he got so fed up with the levels of Stockholm Syndrome on display that he played the game of dropping his British diplomacy and just blurting out the most provocative statements he could (in his near-perfect Icelandic, of course) to see what sort of reaction he could elicit from the entourage of Siggis and Siggas.
"The thing is this", he started, breathing in deeply and preparing for battle. "Iceland isn't actually an independent country at all. You're a bunch of effing hypocrites".
A suited Siggi blurted out "Waddayamean?!" through his mouthful of kleinur, not-so-gently spraying a fine mist of crumbs and barely intelligible.
Bob braced himself, mentally slapped Siggi with his leather riding glove, theatrically threw the glove to the earth in front of the etiquette-challenged office worker, and said "As long as Iceland keeps teaching Danish in schools, they're not an independent nation."
Siggi grunted, swallowed so prematurely that he had to do the uncomfortable-looking straining-neck-forward manouevre, and said "Waddayamean?", no more intelligibly than last time.
"Right, last time you went overseas, where did you go?", asked Bob, bracing for the answer like a woman about to have a strip of legwax removed.
"Copenhagen, why?", replied Siggi, indignantly.
"...and when you were there, which language did you speak with the locals?", asked Bob.
"Eerrrrr... English, why?" replied Siggi.
Bob turned to the next colleague in the slowly-growing circle of participants. "You?"
"English", replied the next victim, wincing.
Bob pointed his way through the group: "English", "English", "English", "Danish..."
"Ha!" said Siggi.
"...but they just reply in English". Siggi let out a barely audible squeak.
"Right," said Bob. "Why on earth do they teach Danish in schools?"
"It's a Nordic language" replied Siggi, displaying uncharacteristic perception, "it helps us talk to all the other Nordic countries."
"So, you speak Swedish then?" Bob asked, optimistically.
"Er, no..."
"Norwegian?"
Siggi coughed violently and sprayed a small cloud of coffee.
"Faroese?" Shaking head.
Bob eased forward for the well-rehearsed next steps in this anti-parochial pas-de-deux: "Now tell me, all these languages, they come from.....?"
"Ahem, German?" offered a helpful voice from a sideline.
"...and of all the Nordic languages, the one which has the greatest distance from written to spoken forms is..."
"Pfff! Bloody Danish!" chuckled a believer from somewhere nearby.
"So why on earth teach Danish in Iceland? It's about as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike!" asked Bob.
An uncomfortable silence descended on the group.
A few feet shuffled uneasily.
Someone coughed nervously and said meekly: "Aaah, because they're our, ah, cousins?"
"Gaaah!" Screamed Bob, at a pitch high enough that nearby dogs winced. At that point he realised he was both on to a loser and late for his meeting and made his excuses and left.
Bob explained to me that in the longer versions of this conversations he asks Icelanders to list the nationalities that most frequently visit Iceland. High on the list are Americans, Brits, Germans, Chinese and Japanese. That gives us then, in our arsenal of required languages: English, German, Japanese (or get by on English), and Chinese (or get by on English). Combine that with the fact that the international language of business is English, and the argument for Danish becomes somewhat less compelling.
...or does it?
The other day I was chatting to an Icelandic acquaintance of mine and he was complaining that the supplier he was using for importing protective footwear was being slow to respond to emails. "Oh, so where's the supplier?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "Denmark" came the answer, with an expression that implied I should have been able to guess that.
Denmark had a formal trade monopoly over Iceland for over two hundred years, but it still has a spiritual monopoly. Icelanders will almost always, when looking to import something, simply turn straight to Denmark, irrespective of whether the Danes are actually a good source of whatever they want. Some examples:
A large Icelandic bank hired an online banking security expert to oversee a security project. Source? Denmark.
A business conference needs a keynote speaker. Odds are the speaker will be Danish.
A dog show needed a judge for the finals. The judge? Flown in from Denmark.
The radiators in my house all have thermostats on them. Danish.
Yes, of course Iceland and Denmark have a long and noble history, but the point is that the Icelanders are blind. They think anything Danish is cool. They think the pinnacle of shopping is H&M.
They actually think it's cool to speak Danish. I read an article in Fréttablaðið just this week, talking in praise of 'schoolbook Danish' and how useful it is as a gateway language.
If only this sentiment were reciprocated by the Danes. They simply don't see it the same way. I know this because I've discussed it with Icelanders that have lived in Denmark for a long time and with Danes, and the truth is that the Danes really don't differentiate very much between Greenland and Iceland, and they treat Iceland with thinly-veiled contempt. A year or so ago, I was in a coffee shop in Reykjavík and the woman in the queue in front of me started placing her order in rapid-fire Danish. The young server, obviously Icelandic, replied in crisp English: "I'm sorry ma'am, I don't speak Danish". The Danish tourist repeated her order, in Danish, but much louder and slower. I am not making this up. There in one instant was the evidence of the Danish attitude towards Iceland.
If you want a fun diversion, go downtown in Reykjavík, and near the splendid 871+-2 exhibition you'll find the Salvation Army headquarters. On the corner of the building is painted the name of the organisation in three languages:
...and there you have it. A clear statement of the spiritual allegiance of the Icelanders:
Icelandic first, Danish second, English last.
Never has a national attitude been more succinctly presented.
