Deny, Defend, Deforest?

The case of Reykjavík’s trees vs. Reykjavík’s airport

Trees have always been a hot topic in Iceland. Although about 40% of Iceland’s land area was once blanketed in old-growth birch forest, trees were widely felled for firewood and building homes. Soon after, whole forests were slashed and burned to make room for livestock to graze. By the turn of the 20th century, Iceland had less than 1% forest cover. Even after more than 100 years of intentional reforestation efforts, coverage is only about 2% today. This long history of deforestation has turned the preservation of our forests into a powder keg issue.

Denying the value

The match of politics was first struck back in 2013 with the issue of cutting down Öskjuhlíð’s trees to better serve Reykjavík’s domestic airport. Airport operator Isavia claimed that the height of the trees poses a safety threat to planes landing on one particular runway from the east. Negotiations with the city resulted in 140 trees being felled in 2017 and a handful of trees meeting the same fate each year since. Fire was held within a hair’s breadth of the issue in July 2023 when Isavia, who declined to comment for this article, demanded that 2,900 of the 8,300 trees in Öskjuhlíð be cut down.

Öskjuhlíð is one of only two wooded areas in Reykjavík and the only one within walking distance of the center. Its quarries and WWII-era relics earned it a place on the National Historic Register. First planted in the 1950s, its trees have since grown into a full-fledged forest crossed with paths for walking and biking. Crowned by the Perlan Museum, the green space serves as an urban oasis for residents and visitors alike.

The demand to raze over a third of its trees left Reykjavík residents outraged. Grapevine reported that then-mayor Dagur B. Eggertsson resisted the initial demand and requested more information on alternatives, citing the area’s value as a recreation space and the time it would take to replace swaths of mature forest.

“The area will absolutely look quite ugly for some 10, 15 years,” warns Brynjólfur Jónsson, the Director of the Icelandic Forestry Association. “This will completely spoil the recreation area.”

RÚV reported that the debate about the number of trees dragged on into 2024, when the Icelandic Transport Authority stepped in and ordered the City of Reykjavík to comply with the initial demand, threatening to arrange for the work and requested the closure of the runway, citing “urgent” safety concerns. The City stalled further, claiming it had already felled 35 trees. The Transport Authority paused enforcement until Isavia could revise their assessment, the December 2024 results of which ultimately placed even more trees in danger.

Defending the arguments

The gunpowder ultimately caught on February 8 when the east-west runway of the airport was closed down at the Travel Authority’s request. The next day, then-mayor Einar Þorsteinsson announced the collapse of the coalition in Reykjavík City Council. The national broadcaster reported that he cited the issue of the airport second in the list of issues on which the factions failed to find common ground. Just as the threat against Öskjuhlíð angered the residents of Reykjavík, the news of the runway’s closure left residents of Iceland’s countryside similarly enraged.

It has become an issue of City vs. Country. City residents want to free up space to alleviate the dire housing crisis, reduce noise pollution and, of course, save their beloved urban forest. Country dwellers want the airport to stay put for easy access to services unavailable in the countryside, particularly medical services.

“You could say that is the issue,” said Eva Bergþóra Guðbergsdóttir, Communications Manager for the City of Reykjavík. “I mean, the airport is here right now. And while it’s here, it’s the main airport for domestic flights and for the medevacs.”

In 2013, the City of Reykjavík signed an agreement with the national government that the airport would remain in service until at least 2022, when they made a new agreement that the airport would be moved as soon as a replacement was in service. “That agreement is still there,” Eva Bergþóra insists. “Nobody has taken that up and ripped it apart. It’s just that we don’t have another location yet.”

In 2015, Hvassahraun was selected as the best potential site and in 2019 they began an assessment that finally concluded in 2024 finding it suitable, despite concerns about volcanic activity in the region. The Meteorological Office is conducting a separate assessment that will not be complete until 2026. With the process of building a new airport moving along about as quickly as the trees in Öskjuhlíð are growing, the question remains: what will happen to them?

Deforesting the city

The issue has officially blown up and left destruction in its wake. On February 11, just three days after the runway was closed and two after the collapse of the city government, the trees were already falling. The final number of trees demanded by Isavia to be felled was 1,400. By Feb. 22, when the first phase of work was completed, nearly 600 trees were already cut down.

“People have always asked, ‘Can’t you just cut the tops off?’” Eva Bergþóra says. “There are all kinds of reasons why it’s not enough just to trim the trees,” she says, although she is unable to provide any: “I’m not an expert really, but this is what I’ve been told.” Brynjólfur, however, is an expert. When asked whether it would be a possible alternative in his professional opinion, he responds without hesitation: “Absolutely.”

Dr. Hreinn Óskarsson, Head of Division for National Forests and Land, states that the Icelandic Forest Service has no official position for or against the work. He allows that while “felling the tallest trees is not common practice in forest management,” that “cutting the top section of the trees is not considered good practice and is probably bad for tree health.” That said, it doesn’t take a forestry official to recognize that whatever damage may be caused to the tree by cutting its top off is unlikely to be worse than cutting it down entirely.

Forestry aside, trimming the trees would also meet the demands of Isavia and the Transport Authority. “It would be sufficient,” admits Þórhildur Elín Elínardóttir, Communications Manager at the Transport Authority. “But it’s not up to us. Whether the trees would be trimmed or taken away, that’s the landowner’s choice.” In this case, that’s the City of Reykjavík and they seem to be handling their responsibility about as poorly as any other landlord in this country. “This is Iceland,” Brynjólfur says sadly. “There are no plans. You can ask the municipality how many trees they are going to plant or what species, but they don’t know. They have no plan.”

At the time of this writing, the City of Reykjavík and the Transport Authority were still waiting on Isavia to finish their assessment of the first phase to determine whether it meets their demands. Meanwhile, hundreds of trees have already been lost and the runway remains closed. In the City vs Country debate, both sides seem to be losing.