Words by

Adam Roy Gordon

Photo by

Art Bicnick

Eleven years ago today, the Westfjords district commissioner repealed the local decree permitting the killing of Basques in the Westfjords.

The decree dated to 1615. Three Basque whaling ships were wrecked in a storm off the coast in September of that year. Eighty-three men survived. Most eventually made it home. Those who didn’t were stranded with nothing to eat, stole dried fish and salt from a local merchant, and were killed by order of the local sheriff. Thirty-two of them in total, across several raids. On the night of October 5, 1615, one group was attacked while they slept. All but one were killed, a young boy who managed to hide.

This is considered Iceland’s last documented massacre.

The decree authorising the massacre sat on the books until April 22, 2015, when the Westfjords district commissioner repealed it at a ceremony and announced, with what I imagine was a straight face, that it was now safe for Basques to visit the region.

I am not making any of this up.

For context: the Basques and Icelanders had previously gotten along well enough to develop their own shared pidgin language for trading. Then came the fish theft. Then came the massacre. Then came 400 years of leaving it on the books, just in case. Then came the christening of a monument, some speeches, and a descendant of one of the killers shaking hands with a descendant of one of the killed.

Every year, Iceland tops some ranking or other. Happiest country. Most peaceful. Most gender-equal. Most democratic. All true, mostly. Iceland is a genuinely decent place to live, as anyone here will tell you, usually mid-complaint.

Fellow immigrants, I hear the grievances. The language. The frændhygli (nepotism). The rent. (The rent!) I have filed these complaints myself, repeatedly, and I stand by all of them.

But let’s give credit where credit is due. Cold-blooded murder of shipwrecked foreigners, formally off the table. That is progress. Slow, and arriving with more ceremony than urgency, but real.

I do have one outstanding question. The victims were Basque, but the massacre is called the Slaughter of the Spaniards. Were all Spaniards fair game, or just Basques? What if you were a nervous Catalan? My working theory is that Iceland, whose language has barely changed in a thousand years, met Basque and recognised a competitor. These things escalate.

What I do know is that whoever you are, you’re safe now. Nobody is permitted to kill you in the Westfjords. Worth raising a glass to, in whatever language you prefer.

There is plenty left to complain about. But today, we celebrate a win.