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Podcast Transcript
Long before modern democracies, before constitutions or elections as we know them, a society of Viking settlers gathered in a windswept valley to create laws, settle disputes, and govern themselves without a monarch.
Against the odds, this institution endured for over a thousand years, in various forms, shaping a nation and influencing ideas about law and representation.
Learn more about the Icelandic Althing, one of the oldest political institutions in history, on this episode of Everything Everywhere Daily.
In previous episodes, I’ve covered several milestones in the history of modern democracy. I’ve done episodes on the Valence Water Council, the Tynwald of the Isle of Mann, the Magna Carta, and the Cortez of Leon.
One of the major milestones that belongs on that list is the Icelandic Althing.
To understand the creation of the Althing, you have to understand the Viking ethos. Viking political culture centered on a collection of free men who gathered in communal assemblies known as a “thing,”….not to be confused with the giant rock guy from the Fantastic Four.
A “thing” met all the criteria of a historical democracy. These assemblies were open to all males in a community. Any male could participate in a discussion and bring grievances before a council of elected leaders.
When the Vikings landed in Iceland, they didn’t just bring their longships and axes; they brought a fierce commitment to a decentralized form of government.
The migration to Iceland wasn’t a random expansion. These settlers were fleeing Norway during a violent transition, as King Harald Fairhair crushed the traditional independence of the Norse nobles to forge a single, centralized monarchy.
For these chieftains, Iceland wasn’t just a new home; it was a political sanctuary where they could revive the ‘thing‘ and keep the power of kings at bay.
The foundational myth of Iceland’s permanent settlement dates back to a disgruntled Norwegian nobleman named Ingólfur Arnarson. In the midst of a blood feud and an expansion in the Norwegian king’s political authority, Arnason sailed west in a Viking longship seeking to regain his freedom in a new land.
Legend notes that he threw his family’s symbols, two large carved wooden pillars, into the sea. He vowed to build his home where the gods had taken them. Arnason’s pillars landed in a bay with smoke rising from abundant hot springs, a land he called Reykjavík, Norse for smoky bay.
Word of Arnason’s success soon spread to Norway. Over the next half-century, as many as 400 Norwegian chieftains, fleeing King Harald Fairhair, followed Arnason and migrated to Iceland to stake out their claims.
By the year 930, thanks to steady migration across the Norwegian Sea, Iceland’s population had grown large enough to necessitate an assembly. The Icelandic chieftains founded their assembly known as the Althing at place called Thingvellir.
The site of Thingvellir was chosen for a mix of practical and symbolic reasons. It sat roughly between the main early settlements in southwest Iceland, making it relatively accessible by horseback from different regions.
The area also offered natural advantages: open flat plains for large gatherings, a nearby water source, and dramatic rock formations that created natural “amphitheaters,” ideal for hearing laws recited aloud.
Just as important, it was largely unclaimed land, which prevented any single chieftain from gaining control over the assembly.
That neutrality made it a politically acceptable meeting place for a society built on a fragile balance between competing leaders.
What they didn’t know at the time was that it was also where the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates meet.
The foundation of the Althing coincided with the return to Iceland of a chief named Úlfljótur (pronounced OOL-flyoh-tur), who went to Norway to study the laws and procedures of the Norwegian assembly, the Gulathing.
Using the Norwegian legal code as a model, the Althing had three core functions: reciting the law, creating new legislation, and resolving disputes.
At the center of this system was the Lawspeaker, the presiding official who memorized and publicly recited the law and guided the assembly’s proceedings.
Working alongside him was the Lögrétta, the legislative council. It was composed of the 39 district chieftains, who were known as goðar (gothar), along with the Lawspeaker. Within this body, the chieftains collectively debated and decided on new laws and amendments to existing ones, ensuring the legal system could adapt to changing conditions.
In addition to its legislative role, the Lögrétta also played a part in resolving disputes, though judicial decisions were often carried out through the Althing’s court system.
The Althing met once a year in an open-air amphitheater at a beautiful rock outcrop in Thingvellir. At the center of the outcropping was a large volcanic rock called the Logberg. This majestic basalt stone was where the lawspeaker administered the proceedings.
The location of the original Logberg stone remains shrouded in mystery. The region is so geologically active that the original 10th-century location is likely underground, as it sinks by about 1 mm per year due to tectonic activity.
Beyond politics, the Althing also shaped Icelandic social and cultural life. Accounts of the Althing suggest that the attendees partied during their stay, looking to outdo one another with elaborate feasts. The Althing often hosted notable weddings and served as a center of worship, feasting, and festivals.
Viking storytellers would gather at the summer Althing and recount the sagas of Norse mythology. The chieftains were not just noblemen; they also served as priests for their region. It was their job to communicate stories of Thor’s heroics and Odin’s benevolence.
The year 1262 brought a major change: the Althing shifted its character after agreeing to yield sovereignty to the Norwegian king, reflecting a toxic combination of internal and external forces that had developed over centuries.
The Logretta system of goðar (gothar) leadership had broken down into a civil war. It was supposed to grant each of the 39 goðar (gothar) autonomy and freedom, with the Althing acting as an arbiter of disputes and a dispensary of laws to maintain order.
However, in the centuries following Iceland’s settlement, the system fell apart. A core group of elite families emerged, and the Althing was unable to suppress the ensuing conflict.
Between 1220 and 1262, Iceland was torn asunder by a civil war. The most powerful clan on the island, the Sturlungar, led the conflict. It began when Snorri Sturluson, chieftain of the Sturlungar clan, became a vassal of King Haakon of Norway.
The king insisted that Snorri help him bring Iceland under Norwegian rule. Snorri and several members of the Sturlungar clan, who also accepted Norwegian patronage, pledged to bring down Iceland’s sovereignty from within.
The island’s clan rivalries soon consumed the Althing.
Once a place of law and justice, the Althing became a den of assassination and intrigue. Violence at this sacred location shattered Icelandic conventions and was considered a disgrace to Thor and Odin, the guardians of Norse culture.
As hallowed ground, the Althing had been a weapon-free zone. After the civil war, chieftains began arriving with armed warriors, accelerating interclan violence. By 1221, the sacred peace of the Althing had vanished.
The Sturlungar Saga records that Loftur Biskupsson had brought an army to the assembly to intimidate his rivals, not to debate the law. Loftur was not the only chieftain to bring an army to the Althing. His rival Björn Thorvaldsson also came well armed.
In the midst of the chaos, not even the Lawspeaker could settle the feud.
Loftur rode straight from the Assembly Plains to his rival’s home and ended the argument with his sword. The Battle at Örlygsstaðir (pronounced UR-licks-sta-thir) that followed was the largest in Icelandic history. Nearly 3,000 people, or 5% of the island’s population, participated in the effort to unite Iceland under a single clan.
The spirit of Iceland’s republican assembly was cracking under the weight of clan violence. Ultimately, the loss of sovereignty and the reduction of the Althing’s power became necessary to restore order to Iceland.
The only solution was to cede authority to Norway and King Haakon IV by agreeing to the Old Covenant, diminishing the role of the Althing.
Iceland had been settled by Norsemen seeking relief from monarchical power, and yet after the violence of the 13th century, the restoration of royal power was the only hope for peace.
Under Norwegian rule, the Althing shifted its focus from making laws to judging them, a dramatic transformation of its original spirit
During the subsequent period of Norwegian dominion over Iceland, the Althing’s primary function was to serve as a supreme court, hearing appeals and providing legal oversight.
Cases heard by the Logretta council could be appealed to the Althing, which served as a high court. The final appeal being an audience with the King.
Norwegian control over Iceland was brief; in the late 14th century, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway were unified under the Kalmar Union, the brainchild of Queen Margaret I of Denmark.
She sought to unify the Scandinavian kingdoms in an effort to break the economic monopoly that the Hanseatic League, which I covered in a previous episode, had over the region’s trade.
The Union’s primary power base was in Copenhagen and controlled by the Danish aristocracy. Under the accord, Iceland and the Faroe Islands became colonial holdings of the Union.
As a Danish possession, the Althing’s role changed once again. The Althing returned as the island’s law-making body, yet its powers were limited.
The true power in Iceland was held by the Danish authorities and the Icelandic aristocracy, who had strong connections to the government in Copenhagen. Legislation passed by the Althing had to be approved by the Danish king to have full force of law.
The Althing was run by two Logmen, one from each side of the island, to preserve peace, but they were, in essence, vassals of the Danish monarchy.
The Kalmar Union ended in 1523, when Sweden broke away amid a violent rebellion; however, Iceland remained under Danish rule.
The full weight of the limitations on the people of Iceland and their assembly was felt during the Protestant Reformation. The Danish government insisted on the expansion of Protestantism in Iceland, and there was no room for compromise; Icelandic Catholics who resisted were killed.
The Reformation provoked significant backlash against the Catholic Church’s wealth and vast property holdings in Iceland, further reducing the Althing’s legal role.
Historically, the Althing settled land disputes; however, during the Reformation, the Danish government seized Catholic lands without consulting the Icelandic assembly.
The political trend in Europe towards absolute monarchy spelled the end of the Althing’s role in Icelandic government. Under the 17th century Danish King Frederick III, the Althing was no longer a policy-making body or one with diminished judicial powers.
The Althing still met, but often just as a festival in remembrance of what it had been. When it did conduct political business, it was to arbitrate minor local land disputes that were outside Danish interests.
As Danish power expanded, the Althing became a relic of Iceland’s Viking past. In 1800, the Danish monarchy formally abolished the Althing and replaced it with a High Court in Reykjavík.
Yet, this was not the end of the Althing.
The Althing was revived in 1845 as part of a broader wave of 19th-century European nationalism. Reestablished in Reykjavík by the Danish crown, it initially functioned as a consultative advisory body with limited authority, reflecting growing Icelandic demands for greater self-governance.
Over time, however, it became the focal point of the independence movement. Constitutional reforms in 1874 granted Iceland limited legislative powers, and subsequent changes steadily expanded its authority.
The early 20th century marked the gradual return of real political power. In 1904, Iceland gained home rule, restoring legislative authority to the Althing. In 1918, Iceland became a sovereign state in a personal union with Denmark, and finally, in 1944, Iceland became a fully independent republic.
After a period as a bicameral body, the Althing returned to being a unicameral institution in 1991.
Today, the Althing has 63 Members of Parliament, elected through a system of proportional representation.
From a rocky natural amphitheater where laws were spoken from memory to a modern chamber where they are debated and written, the story of the Althing is really the story of continuity in the face of change.
Few institutions can claim a lineage that stretches back over a thousand years, and fewer still have survived so many transformations while remaining central to a nation’s identity.
