Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir - extended interview

The Icelandic prime minister talks to the NS about scrambling to rescue an economy under pressure fr

Click here to see the interview as it appeared in this week's magazine.

How has your first year as prime minister been?
I have always worked hard, and seeing so many Icelanders make tremendous efforts to cope with difficult tasks and decisions inspires me to press for further reforms and to achieve concrete results. First, our aim is to revitalise the economy, balance the state finances and get troubled companies and families on their feet again. This cannot be done without facing the facts, identifying the reasons for the crash and determining who is responsible. Second, the government is taking decisions on law enforcement and changes in our governmental institutions in order to prevent a possible new meltdown in our financial system in the coming decades. Third, by reinforcing democratic processes, promoting better and more responsible governance and a reorganisation of the civil service, the government is opening a new path towards a better society, grounded in the ideals of the Nordic welfare state.

There is still a lot of anger in Iceland about the country's financial collapse. What are the next steps?
Feelings are mixed. Icelanders are both angry and full of sorrow and anxiety. They feel betrayed in many ways by the state, by the banks and by our allies. But the anger is also directed inwards - at ourselves as individuals and as a nation. Why did Icelanders let this happen? Sorting out those feelings will be a long and difficult process. This month, the findings of the parliamentary inquiry into the crash will be published and it's up to the Althing [national parliament] and the government to respond properly and in a trustworthy manner. An extensive judicial process into possible misconduct by financial institutions and other principal players is also ongoing. This will all take time but eventually the reckoning will take place and those suspected of misdoings will be prosecuted. At the same time, the government is pressing on with extensive reform of the financial markets and a radical restructuring of the civil service and the state institutions, in order to ensure that the collapse will not be repeated in the foreseeable future.

How is your relationship with Gordon Brown, given the disagreements over Icesave?
I met him briefly at the COP15 meeting in Copenhagen. We have exchanged letters and spoken on the telephone last week, and our officials have maintained contact. In our conversation last Tuesday, I explained the present situation in Iceland regarding the Icesave bill.

The Icesave bill, and the underlying agreement with Britain, was passed by the Icelandic parliament on 30 December, but the president of Iceland deferred the bill to a national referendum to be held less than two months from now. That is his constitutional right, albeit highly unusual usage of the presidential powers. Mr Gordon Brown was of course disappointed by this delay, but declared his will to continued co-operation with the Icelandic government concerning those difficult circumstances. He expressed the same sentiments regarding Iceland's EU bid, as Foreign Minister David Miliband also conveyed to Iceland's foreign minister, Össur Skarphéðinsson, last week.

Countries have interests and diplomacy is usually not personal, but many Icelanders feel that last year Prime Minister Brown went beyond what can be justified by the protection of British national interests. In addition, the application of anti-terror legislation against a peaceful neighbour and Nato ally is unprecedented. I am convinced that, in a similar situation, the government of the UK would not apply this particular legislation against a larger European country. All of this needs to be discussed openly, while we move forward in repairing bilateral relations.

Are you still seeking to discuss the Icesave issue with him face to face?
In my discussions with Prime Minister Brown, I declared myself ready to meet him if we [both] deemed it productive to clarify and mend the relations between our countries.

What do you expect the outcome of the referendum to be?
The national referendum is in accordance with Iceland's constitution, and that deserves to be respected both at home and in other democratic neighbour countries. I'm convinced that the Icelandic voters will reach the right decision and, on that basis, we will keep on with our recovery plan, hopefully in good co-operation with the international community. You don't contest the judgement of the voters in a democratic society.

Is the request that Iceland repay its bankers' debts reasonable?
Understandably, almost every Icelander finds it unreasonable that Icelandic taxpayers should have to pay thousands of pounds each for a failed private bank, because of mistakes the taxpayers had nothing to do with. But someone has to pay, and the question is really how this burden should be divided between the parties involved.

Iceland has always maintained that the EU regulation on depositors' insurance is flawed, in the sense that it doesn't have relevance in a system crisis where the financial institutions of a country crash at one go. The regulatory bodies of the Netherlands and Britain should also be held accountable for their faulty control of the Icelandic bank Landsbanki in their respective countries. Up to now, we have been pretty isolated in this view, but we will keep on speaking for our opinions on this issue.

If Iceland does not repay its bankers' debts, is there a risk that the country will become an international pariah?
The parliament and three successive governments have stated that Iceland remains committed to honouring its obligations. However, the Icesave case has been deeply contested in Iceland, given the enormous economic burden involved.

If you take into consideration Iceland's progress in 2009 in implementing the economic recovery programme supported by the International Monetary Fund, the prolongation of the conclusion of the Icesave issue is a certain setback. However, Iceland's fundamentals remain strong -- Iceland will recover. We stay in close contact with the governments of the UK and the Netherlands, Nordic and other partner countries, and with the EU and the IMF, in order to explain the issue and the next steps.

How will Iceland's economy change, post-crash?
In future, the Icelandic economy will be based on sustainable use of its fishing stocks and energy resources, and the ingenuity and strength of its well-educated, vibrant, young population. The economy will not return to the flammable combination of high leverage and unbridled risk-taking that drove us into the financial crisis we are now overcoming.

Our international competitive sectors, including tourism, have rapidly become more important over the past 12 months. These sectors will continue to be of high importance and push the economy onwards to rapid recovery. Most importantly, we are restructuring a more stable economy that is returning to its roots as a Nordic welfare state.

To this end, I put great faith in the EU accession negotiations that we hope will start in early 2010. Membership of the European Union and adoption of the euro would secure the already extensive success we have made in restructuring and rebuilding our economy.

What benefits would EU membership bring?
Our goal in the membership negotiations is to reach an agreement that is in accordance with Iceland's fundamental interests as defined by the Althing. Recent polls indicate that public opinion is divided about EU membership, but I expect the nation to approve an agreement if a solution is found regarding fisheries and agriculture. We have been members of the European Single Market for 15 years through the European Economic Area Agreement, as well as being members of the Schengen Agreement, and I believe that the benefits are appreciated in my country.

EU membership will build confidence as regards the future of the Icelandic economy and give a clear sign of direction. This is very important in the light of the circumstances. In addition, we would gain a voice within EU institutions and be able to rely on European solidarity. Prices of certain consumer goods should fall, and the EU's regional policy would be beneficial to the remote regions of Iceland.

Membership would also allow for adoption of the euro, which would reduce the costs we pay to maintain the world's smallest independent currency. We would expect less economic volatility, lower interest rates and funding costs closer to those enjoyed by other European economies.

Your economic "stability pact" received a mixed response from trade unions. As a former union organiser, do you still feel loyal to them?
Times in Iceland are hard for everyone and the trade unions feel the burden of accepting wage cuts, cuts in social expenditure and the rise in income taxes. Nevertheless, they are taking full part in stabilising the economy for the common good.

The trade unions participate in managing the pensions funds, which are fully funded by 10 per cent of the pool of wages each year, and they manage capital the equivalent of 150 per cent of GNP. These funds play an important role in Iceland, as they give us means to invest in large-scale infrastructure programmes, which will raise the employment level in the difficult times ahead. I have given my word on implementing the stability pact, and despite all obstacles I will do my best.

Your government is 50 per cent female. Is equality important to your vision for Iceland?
Definitely! My long experience in politics tells me that egalitarian policies are the best way to unite and empower people, and are also a necessary counterweight to the sometimes dividing and detrimental influence of market forces. A society that does not use the intellectual power of its female population fully is not a wise society. Women are now the majority of students in the Icelandic universities, and 43 per cent of our MPs.

We have to use all our resources to bounce back from the recession and we expect women to take their full part in the new era. Most women are not as tainted by mistakes in the conduct of the economy as the male population, and now they deserve an opportunity. We are determined to achieve gender equality in the political sphere but, unfortunately, the corporate side is still lacking. This is odd, because international research shows that companies with a sound gender policy are better run and more profitable than male-dominated companies. We are prepared to introduce legislation that would actively encourage the private sector to adopt a wiser and more effective gender policy.

By the way, it's not a coincidence that the World Economic Forum recently ranked Iceland first in its annual, 134-country survey of gender equality, followed closely by Norway, Finland and Sweden. We would like to keep that position!

You called for Davíð Oddsson, the former head of Iceland's Central Bank, to stand down. He now edits the Morgunblaðið newspaper. How do you feel about his current job?
It has become a quite common view that he has turned Morgunblaðið into a campaign organ for his own views, rather than a broad-minded newspaper on the right. His assignment is a decision the owners of Morgunblaðið have to stand by, and is not for me to comment on.

Iceland is already experiencing signs of climate change. What moves is your government making to combat it? How can those be reconciled with the need to focus on the economy?
The Icelandic government will soon publish its action plan for reducing greenhouse-gas emissions, recovering wetlands and increasing forestation. In Iceland, renewable energy has supplied 90 per cent of the primary energy needs since 1999 -- proportionally more than any other country. Geothermal sources are also used to heat 89 per cent of our buildings.

Our aim is to become completely energy-independent, using 100 per cent renewable energy sources. This will take time but makes ecological and economic sense.

Following the oil crises in the 1970s, Iceland turned geothermal, and this has led to great savings in the national economy. Some estimates say Iceland is saving as much as a year's national income every 11 to 12 years by virtue of that foresight.

Is there a plan?
A plan provides focus, but it is not an end in itself.

What would you like to forget?
I would like to remember all and be able to forgive everything -- in due course!

Are we all doomed?
Our time is limited, but the spirit is free.

Click here to see the interview as it appeared in this week's magazine.

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Bernie Sanders and the future of the American left

How an old, white guy is bringing class-based politics to the Democratic primary.

One thing is immediately striking: as he addresses primary rallies across America, arms flailing like a giant bird coming in to land, snow-white hair fizzing skywards like Doc Brown’s in Back to the Future, eyes startled behind the robust spectacles he has worn since childhood, Bernie Sanders looks quite unlike any other presidential candidate.

Perhaps the surprise in those eyes is sparked by the size of the crowds Sanders has been attracting. They are enormous, rivalling the numbers who turned out for Barack Obama back in 2008, and unprecedented for a candidate who is not shy of describing himself as a socialist: 28,000 in Portland and LA, 25,000 in Boston and 15,000 in Seattle. Even in Dallas, not a renowned centre of radicalism, 8,000 turned out to “feel the Bern”.

In these days when slick suits and expensive haircuts are increasingly a turn-off for a public weary of smooth politicians they see as delivering only for the wealthy, Sanders’s persona, like that of Jeremy Corbyn, his equally unkempt British counterpart, has proved popular. But it is his message – an angry chronicling of the depredations facing so many Americans and a solid social-democratic programme for putting things right – that is really pulling in the crowds. Sanders, who is 74, and the main challenger to Hillary Clinton for the Democratic nomination, doesn’t just look different. With his confident calls for a “revolution” to break up the banks and impose higher taxes on the rich, he doesn’t sound like any other recent presidential contender, either.


I first met Bernie Sanders in 1996. I was the publisher of his book Outsider in the House, a political autobiography that appeared the following year (and which has just been reissued by Verso with a new foreword, and more than a hint of optimism, as Outsider in the White House). The occasion was a benefit concert during his successful bid to be re-elected to the House of Representatives from the small, rural state of Vermont.

Sanders’s early years are not well documented, least of all by him. He devotes less than three of the 300 pages in Outsider to the first three decades of his life. He doesn’t much care for the “humble roots” narrative beloved of so many politicians, generally millionaires whose ancestors lived in broken-down cabins. But the raw material is certainly there. The son of Polish immigrants, Sanders grew up in a working-class Jewish family in Flatbush, Brooklyn. At home, money was tight: “Every major household purchase . . . would be accompanied by a fight between my parents as to whether we could afford it,” he wrote.

It was an achievement to gain admission to the University of Chicago, and though he described himself as “not a good student”, that was a result of sacrificing coursework to the cause of social activism. He settled permanently in Vermont at the age of 27, having bought an 85-acre farm in the north of the state for $2,500. Four years later he moved to Burlington, the state capital, where he became involved in city politics, at first in the tiny Liberty Union Party and then as an independent. In 1981 he was inaugurated as mayor and commenced a series of tilts at the state’s congressional seat. He finally entered the House of Representatives in 1991 – the first independent candidate to enter Congress in 40 years.

By the time I encountered him, Sanders was seeking to defend his seat for the third time. The concert where we met was taking place in an old art-deco theatre in Brattleboro, perhaps the most hippiefied community in a state where tie-dye remains as ubiquitous as dairy herds. It was headlined by Pete Seeger, who ran through a panoply from his folk songbook to a packed crowd that knew all the words.

Ten years earlier, Mayor Sanders, a long-time admirer of Seeger, had recorded one of his songs, “Where Have All the Flowers Gone”, on a surreal folk/rap album. Now, he waited until Seeger had finished his set before taking the stage and, speaking in the only manner he seems to know – a gruff, shouted staccato – exhorted Vermonters to join him in the fight against Newt Gingrich and Bob Dole to stop the Republicans from taking over the presidency and the Senate. The response was rapturous. Sanders left the stage like a president concluding a State of the Union speech, gladhanding lines of admirers as he made his way out of the hall.

A few weeks later I met him again, this time at his congressional office in Washington, DC. On the wall of his office I spotted a plaque of Eugene Debs, who ran for Congress and the presidency on a socialist ticket, travelling to every part of the country on a train he called the Red Special and picking up 6 per cent of the popular vote in 1912, when he finished fourth, behind Woodrow Wilson, Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft.

Sanders had invited me to lunch and so we headed off through the underground passageway that leads from the office building to the congressional dining room. We were accompanied along the way by one of his assistants who, in true West Wing style, peppered him with questions and made notes on a clipboard as we walked. We had just started our food when John Kasich, then congressman for Ohio and now governor of the state and a contender for the Republican presidential nomination, wandered over for a chat. Despite Kasich’s reputation as a fiscal conservative, it was evident that he and Sanders had a cordial relationship, and indeed, Sanders invited him to join us for lunch.

It was difficult to reconcile these two contrasting snapshots of Sanders: the rousing air punch in Vermont and the bridge-building handshake in DC. But the more one looks into his career, the clearer it becomes that this dual approach is integral to his remarkable political ascent. Sanders plays it quite differently inside and out, but he plays both sides very hard.

“Bernie doesn’t see a contradiction between working within the system and campaigning to change it,” the journalist Matt Taibbi told me, recalling the time when he shadowed Sanders for several weeks in 2005 while researching a piece for Rolling Stone. “I remember one Thursday afternoon I made a snarky comment about members of the House already sneaking off home for a long weekend and how it seemed to me that many of them were pretty lazy. Bernie scolded me, insisting that most of the people in Congress work very conscientiously. He doesn’t believe the system functions for ordinary people, but he’s not cynical about it either.”

This point was reiterated by Heather Gautney, an associate professor of sociology at Fordham University in New York who previously worked as a researcher in Sanders’s Senate office. “Working with Bernie in DC, I realised what a difficult place it was for someone more interested in movement-building than passing legislation,” Gautney said. “But Bernie was known for getting substantial chunks of the Republican vote in Vermont and he used that same skill to connect with some pretty unlikely allies in Congress.”

Sanders’s legislative record is strikingly good. In the decade after the Republicans took over the House of Representatives in 1995 no other lawmaker attached more amendments to bills that were voted on. He achieved this by using his position as an independent to put together coalitions that spanned both of the main parties, and also by sheer hard work. In his Rolling Stone article, Taibbi describes Sanders waiting patiently for hours to table an amendment in the office of the House rules committee, “a tiny, airless closet deep in the labyrinth of the Capitol where some of the very meanest people on Earth spend their days cleaning democracy like a fish”.

Sanders’s method of working across party lines is not without its critics. Especially on the left, there are voices that wonder if the compromises that inevitably accompany playing the system in DC are too large. Many of Sanders’s positions on foreign policy have skewed towards the militarism and careless disregard for human rights that prevail among the Washington establishment. Although notably, and unlike Hillary Clinton, he opposed the initial vote on the Iraq War, Sanders voted for every bill that came before Congress to fund the occupations of Afghanistan and Iraq. He has supported basing the new F-35 fighter plane at Burlington Airport in Vermont, despite widespread concern from residents about the environmental impact. And he did not oppose the Senate resolution that supported Israel’s attack on Gaza in 2014, which left as many as 2,200 Palestinians dead.

Sanders is clearly happier talking about problems inside the US than foreign policy. In his opening statement to last Saturday’s televised debate between the Democratic candidates, he segued awkwardly from condemning the attacks in Paris to excoriating America’s “rigged economy”. Yet on domestic issues, too, some of his stands have given progressives pause for thought: his opposition to the Trans-Pacific Partnership, a 12-country trade agreement championed by Barack Obama, has always been grounded in an argument in favour of saving jobs for American workers, rather than any notion of international solidarity. His slowness in expressing support for the burgeoning Black Lives Matter movement, something which his campaign has latterly striven hard to correct, was less of a surprise to those aware of his consistent support for the police union while mayor of Burlington. And his position on guns (he voted against the Brady Bill, which mandated background checks on buyers of firearms) is the only area in which Clinton outflanks him to the left.

But perhaps the biggest issue for many progressives is Sanders’s decision to run for president through, rather than outside, the Democratic primary. Though he began his political career in the Liberty Union Party and has stood in every election since as an independent, he is, as Howard Dean, the progressives’ challenger in the Democratic primary of 2003/2004, put it, “basically . . . a Democrat . . . [who] votes with the Democrats 98 per cent of the time”.

As Sanders relates in Outsider in the House, faced in 1996 with the choice of backing Ralph Nader, “a personal friend and an exemplary progressive” running as an independent, or Bill Clinton, whose policies on health care, welfare reform, trade, gay marriage and military spending he sharply disagreed with, Sanders decided to “support” Clinton. “Perhaps ‘support’ is too strong a word,” he frets in the book. “I’m planning no press conferences to push his candidacy, and will do no campaigning for him. I will vote for him, and make that public.”

Sanders has called for a vote for the Democratic nominee in every presidential election since Jimmy Carter left office in 1981, and early this month, on ABC’s This Week, he appeared to have completed a long transition, asserting: “I am a Democrat now.”

This failure to build an electoral force outside the Democrats always leads to a dead end, according to Anthony Arnove, a prominent member of the International Socialist Organisation (ISO) who is also a publisher and literary agent representing a range of leftish writers, including Arundhati Roy. “We’ve seen it over and over,” Arnove said: “a left challenge fires up the base and is then defeated in the primaries by a centrist, or, more accurately, right-wing candidate, who goes on to betray everything those people were mobilised around.”

Sanders’s fundraising almost matched Clinton’s over the summer – in the third quarter they raised $26m and $28m, respectively – and in September he became the first candidate to attract more than a million individual donations. (The average donation to his campaign has been $30.) But his dip in the polls after Hillary’s strong performances in the first nationally televised primary debate, and then again at her House select committee hearing on the 2012 attack on the US consulate in Benghazi, Libya, suggests he will struggle to win the nomination. As of early November he trailed Clinton nationally by 25 points.

In Arnove’s view, Sanders “won’t get further than Super Tuesday [at the beginning of March], when he’ll direct his base to vote for Clinton. This is exactly how the Democrats become a graveyard for progressive politics, when what we desperately need are social movements that can remain independent of both establishment parties and push for their own agenda.”


The revolution to which Sanders often refers is a long way from the sort envisaged by Arnove’s ISO. He is pursuing a fairer capitalism, not its overthrow. “He’s not Trotsky,” as Taibbi put it to me. But there are those inside his campaign who think its primary focus should be building a grass-roots organisation capable of transcending the four-yearly coming together of presidential elections, to create a more permanent basis for a broad, progressive movement.

One such advocate is Adolph Reed, a writer and academic who is campaigning for Sanders in South Carolina. Working with local unions and Labor for Bernie Sanders 2016, which has 70,000 signed-up members, Reed sees the potential in using Sanders’s programme, with its emphasis on basic economic demands such as the minimum wage, universal health care and free college tuition, as a way of drawing together various groups campaigning around single issues such as housing and police racism.

For Reed, who is black, class trumps race as the key to building a movement. “In New Orleans everyone talked about Katrina as having a devastating effect on black people in the city, which of course it did. But when you analyse it, class was a much better predictor of who suffered most there,” he told me. The centre of a class-based movement, Reed argues, will have to be provided by the trade unions. “Despite the fashionability of protests without any specific demands or elected leaderships, no movement initiative is going to have staying power without being anchored in the trade unions.”

Recruiting the unions to work alongside Sanders’s campaign in the way Reed envisages isn’t easy. The American Federation of Teachers and the machinists’ union have already thrown in their lot with Hillary Clinton. And Richard Trumka, the president of the AFL-CIO (America’s national federation of trade unions), has warned individual unions against coming out for Sanders. But Reed can point to significant declarations of support, from postal workers and the National Nurses Union. The AFL-CIO chapters in Vermont and, more surprisingly, South Carolina have also backed his run.

“It’s important to keep Bernie in the race for as long as possible, but the ultimate objective is to develop structures that can continue beyond the election,” Reed said. “It’s premature to say what this network will look like, but Bernie’s campaign provides an important boost to putting it in place.”


From Jesse Jackson to Dennis Kuci­nich to Howard Dean, an array of people’s champions has made a splash in the recent history of Democratic presidential primaries. None, however, has been as explicitly critical of capitalism (or so gruff about it) as Bernie Sanders. His no-nonsense, class-based politics are a measure of how the disenchantment with the ideology of a free market that arrived like a train in the 1980s and ran off the rails in 2008 is now finding its way into the mainstream.

Up until now, the critical moments of left advance in America – the Seattle WTO protests, the anti-war movement, Occupy Wall Street, the campaign for gay rights and, today, Black Lives Matter – have occurred outside electoral politics. There are a couple of good reasons for this. The US electoral system, like Britain’s, makes third-party challenges extraordinarily difficult. And inside the Democratic Party these movements would have been crushed by a conservative leadership around the Democratic National Committee, put in place by Bill Clinton.

One result is a paucity of new progressive voices inside the party. At a moment when, as Gramsci once put it, the old order no longer works but the new order has not yet been born, Sanders, with his New Deal politics and firebrand demeanour, seems not so much a successor to the old order as a throwback to a time that pre-dates it, when politicians spoke with conviction and the society they represented was less unfair. As such, he provides a staging post for a new progressive consciousness (according to a poll by Pew at the end of 2011, more Americans aged 18 to 29 would prefer to live under socialism than under capitalism) that is not yet sufficiently coherent to enter mainstream politics in its own right, either through a serious third-party challenge or the transformation of the Democratic Party.

As a middle-class white man, Sanders has been able to get a pass to promote bold positions that someone with a less privileged identity might have found hard to sell. And his age, paradoxically, has proved not to be a disadvantage with a youthful constituency dismayed by the surrender to expedience that disfigures so much of contemporary American politics. His record has been constant over such a long period that, again like Jeremy Corbyn, he can be relied on not to sell out. Though his politics are less radical, his venerability provides a messianic cloak from the same closet as the one worn by Noam Chomsky, another hero for many young progressives.

So it’s not just today’s professionally polished politicians to whom Sanders presents a stark contrast. Recent progressive movements have embraced an identity politics that was much less prevalent when Sanders started out back in 1970s Vermont. In order to forge the sorts of alliances that are necessary to mount a credible challenge on the national political stage, they will likely have to borrow extensively from his unifying class politics. But their leadership will be younger, blacker, less straight and less masculine than Sanders. In that sense, he represents the last hurrah for the old white guy.

Colin Robinson is co-publisher at OR Books (, based in New York

This article first appeared in the 19 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The age of terror