Iceland Tackles Rising Immigrant Population Amid Concerns over Extremism

Iceland, with fewer people than Wichita, Kansas, faces what locals call a "crisis" of immigration that's changing the country beyond recognition. The isolated North Atlantic island nation is experiencing the same pattern seen across Europe: rising crime, gang activity, and neighborhoods becoming unrecognizable to longtime residents.

The numbers tell the story. By 2023, foreign students made up 15-20% of Iceland's school population. In some working-class neighborhoods of Reykjavik, teachers report that 90% of their students are of foreign origin. One teacher sparked national debate by claiming that even among the few Icelandic speakers in his class, none could understand the simple sentence "the heart pumps blood."

Prime Minister Katrín Jakobsdóttir acknowledged this summer that "it's natural for emotions to run high when it comes to such rapid social change." She noted that Iceland's immigrant population has grown dramatically in just a few years, which "naturally makes people think."

The transformation mirrors what happened in Ireland - another isolated island where rapid capitalism consumed what was once an agricultural society. But Iceland's change came later and faster. The country didn't follow Western Europe's post-war immigration pattern. Instead, it remained largely homogeneous until joining the European Economic Area in 1994.

When Central and Eastern European countries joined the EU in 2004, Poles, Slovaks, and Lithuanians arrived in unprecedented numbers. Most came from cultures that fit reasonably well with Icelandic society. Catholicism gained prominence for the first time since 1550, when the last Catholic bishop was executed. Today's Catholic bishop of Reykjavik is of Slovak origin.

The 2008-2011 financial crisis - by some measures the largest banking collapse in human history - could have been a moment for Iceland to reassess its direction. But immigration wasn't yet a pressing political issue. That changed in 2015 during Angela Merkel's refugee crisis.

Wealthy Icelanders declared their homes open to Syrians and other Middle Eastern asylum seekers. The pattern became predictable: rich neighborhoods in Reykjavik stayed mostly Icelandic and pro-refugee, while poorer areas like Breidholt began resembling the troubled districts of other European capitals.

A basketball coach coined the term "Baby Malmö" for one working-class Reykjavik neighborhood that quickly gained a large immigrant population. "I'm angry at myself and everyone else for letting things get this far," he said. "We've reached a point where we're allowing an infection to cause the amputation of the entire leg."

The economic picture shows the familiar European mix of government support, temporary work, and illegal activities. Gang activity increasingly attracts young immigrant men. A recent report showed how foreign workers have flooded the taxi industry. In one night in the capital area, journalists interviewed drivers from Afghanistan, Ivory Coast, Morocco, and the Philippines.

An Icelandic taxi driver explained the result: "The market is completely saturated, and they're still issuing licenses. There are no restrictions, and competition is extremely fierce, which increases the chances of people starting to cheat and evade taxes." Some remaining Icelandic drivers now put national flags on their windshields.

Crime has followed predictable patterns. Criminal gangs from immigrant neighborhoods in continental Europe have arrived. Icelandic police warn that extremism poses a new threat - at least one immigrant linked to an extremist organization was deported this year.

A particularly disturbing case ended this summer when Iceland's Supreme Court ruled that an immigrant working at an elementary school had repeatedly sexually assaulted a 14-year-old student over several months. A local court had earlier dismissed more serious rape charges, citing "cultural misunderstanding." The perpetrator had been highlighted as an integration success story at the 2019 Global Refugee Forum by the former prime minister's secretary.

Icelanders increasingly complain that their "sovereign" land is becoming an economic zone or English-speaking colony. "The country will be sold" - a recurring line from Nobel Prize winner Halldór Laxness's Cold War novel - still resonates eight decades later.

The transformation raises questions about what happens when rapid demographic change hits a small, previously homogeneous society. Iceland's experience suggests that isolation and small size offer no protection from the social tensions that have reshaped much of Europe. For a country that maintained its distinct character for centuries, the changes of the past two decades represent something unprecedented in its modern history.