From Barefoot Confirmation to President of Iceland’s Humanist Association

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/08/04

Arndís Anna Kristínardóttir Gunnarsdóttir is President of Siðmennt, the Icelandic Ethical Humanist Association. Raised in a nonreligious Lutheran household, she embraced Christianity as a child—memorizing Bible verses and undergoing barefoot confirmation at 14—before questioning faith amid her father’s Pentecostal turn. A lawyer, she advised Siðmennt and delivered its secular parliamentary alternative. Elected president on March 1 after a two-candidate race, she served as an MP (2021–2024), championing church-state separation, transparency, constitutional review, and humanist principles. Gunnarsdóttir’s path to the presidency of Siðmennt was a gradual one.

Born to nonpracticing Lutheran parents, she embraced Christian faith as a child—memorizing Bible verses and choosing barefoot confirmation at 14—and later became unsettled by her father’s association with the Pentecostal Church, which emphasized fear of the devil. This prompted years of questioning until she concluded morality need not derive from religion. As a lawyer, she advised Siðmennt from 2013 and presented its secular alternative before Parliament. Running as a two-candidate contest, she was elected president on March 1 and has overseen membership growth even as Iceland’s national church declines. In Parliament (2021–2024) representing the Pirate Party, Gunnarsdóttir championed the separation of church and state, transparency, privacy rights, and the creation of an independent constitutional advisory council. She criticized the government’s choice of a church-affiliated crematorium over a secular proposal, highlighting institutional bias, and seeks interfaith cooperation to uphold shared humanist values.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: What is your current title?

Arndís Anna Kristínardóttir Gunnarsdóttir: Gunnarsdóttir: I am the President of Siðmennt, the Icelandic Ethical Humanist Association.

Jacobsen: How did you become involved in the humanist and ethical movement in Iceland? And how long have you been its President?

Gunnarsdóttir: To be honest, I cannot pinpoint a specific moment when I became involved in humanism. It happened gradually over time. I was raised in a non-religious household, which is quite typical in Iceland. Like many Icelanders, we were registered in the National Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church, but we did not actively practice religion. As a child, though, I was pretty religious. I attended Christian summer camps, considered myself devout, and had a traditional Lutheran confirmation at the age of 14. I chose to go barefoot for the ceremony, which, for me, held symbolic meaning — a personal expression of sincerity or humility. However, I am not entirely sure why I felt that way at the time.

Jacobsen: What did that mean to you?

Gunnarsdóttir: It meant going through the confirmation without shoes or socks. It was a symbolic gesture. At the time, I viewed it as a form of personal devotion or a serious commitment to the ritual. I was the kind of child who wanted to do things properly. I even memorized and quoted Bible verses. Not excessively, but I took it seriously. I was a straight-A student, very well-behaved. I had a strong desire to be perfect, and my religious behaviour was part of that mindset. Looking back, I believe I was genuinely religious as a child. But my shift toward humanism began when my father became involved with the Pentecostal Church in Iceland. That was a confusing period for me. Although I still considered myself Christian, the Pentecostal focus was unsettling. They spoke more about the devil than about God. It seemed like they saw the devil everywhere. Much of what I experienced in that environment felt wrong or disturbing to me — it conflicted with what I believed Christianity should be. It led to a period of confusion and reflection. For a time, I distanced myself from religion entirely because I needed to rethink everything.

And I started saying things like, “I don’t believe in God if God is so judgmental,” etc. I began to doubt — very seriously. At first, I still believed in God but rejected the religious doctrines and interpretations I was encountering. Slowly, gradually, over time, that changed. This is why I cannot pinpoint the exact moment I became a humanist or decided to join Siðmennt. It was a process that spanned many years.

As a child, I always wanted to help people. My dream job when I was little was to become a Christian missionary in Africa. The funny thing is that, as an adult, I ended up working for the Red Cross , supporting refugees and asylum seekers.

My dream is still to go to areas experiencing humanitarian crises to try and help. I now see it from a different perspective. I would say I am mostly healed from what you might call the white saviour syndrome. But I have not abandoned that part of myself from childhood — the part that wants to help, that wants to bring and promote humanity.

At some point, I realized that I did not need religion to do that. I do not need religion to act ethically. That realization is what brought me to humanism.

Humanist values are grounded in the idea that our principles and ethics do not come from divine sources — they come from our shared humanity. That understanding made me more active in Siðmennt.

I never held a formal position in the organization before becoming President. However, I have given legal advice to Siðmennt over the years and have been involved in various ways. In 2013, for example, I gave a speech at the beginning of Parliament’s annual session.

In Iceland, a traditional church service is held before the first session of the parliament. But for several decades now, Siðmennt has offered a secular alternative . At this gathering, a speaker provides hopefully wise and meaningful words, followed by a lunch. I was honoured to give that speech in 2013.

So, I have been indirectly involved with Siðmennt for a long time.

I also served as a Member of Parliament in Iceland from 2021 to 2024. During that time, I actively supported and promoted the goals of Siðmennt and the broader humanist movement, including advocating for the separation of church and state.

For example, there is currently a need for a new crematorium in Iceland. Due to our small population, there is only one existing crematorium. A private association came forward with funding and plans to create a secular crematorium.

Unfortunately, I received news today that the new Minister of Justice has signed an agreement with Reykjavík Cemeteries, which are affiliated with the national church.

Technically, Siðmennt has a representative on the board overseeing this, and it is supposed to be interreligious. But in reality, about 80 percent of the representatives are affiliated with the state church. So it is still far from being truly neutral or inclusive.

Jacobsen: So, in Iceland, the state church means the Lutheran Church?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes, it is the Lutheran Protestant Church of Iceland. They used to have around 80–90 percent of the population, but now they are just above 50 percent. Despite the global trend of conservative resurgence — including here in Iceland — the national church continues to lose members.

Meanwhile, our membership continues to grow. The rate of change has slowed, but the trend remains the same: fewer members for the state church, more for us.

I never had any personal ambition or goal to become President of Humanists Iceland. The idea was proposed to me by friends who had been more active within the humanist community. That was because Inga had decided not to run again.

So there was a need for a new candidate, and I was encouraged to step forward. I first heard the suggestion around a year ago. By November, they began pushing me to consider it more seriously, and I decided to run in February.

It all happened quite fast. The election was held on March 1, and I was elected President. There were three candidates initially. One of them withdrew his candidacy at the end of his speech , which was a bit unusual. He completed his candidate speech and then announced he was withdrawing.

So, in the end, it was just the two of us. Interestingly, the withdrawn candidate still received a few votes — maybe just one.

Jacobsen: Are candidates allowed to vote?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes, they are. But I do not think he voted for himself since he had already withdrawn. Then again, who knows? In any case, I won. And here I am.

Jacobsen: When you attend major events like this one, is this your first?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes. A Nordic conference took place earlier this year.

Jacobsen: Were you involved around the time of the 2019 Reykjavík conference?

Gunnarsdóttir: No. I was in France at the time, working on my PhD.

Jacobsen: How did that go?

Gunnarsdóttir: I did not finish it.

Jacobsen: COVID?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes, COVID. I was supposed to travel to the U.S. for the final stage of my research. I mentioned this earlier — I was doing a comparative study on the development of freedom of religion as a legal concept in Europe and the United States.

The final part of my research involved work in the U.S., but I had never been there before. I had planned a research stay, but travel was not allowed due to the pandemic.

So I returned to Iceland and later ran for Parliament. After being elected, I abandoned the PhD.

Jacobsen: Three points on Parliament. First — Is the Althing the oldest Parliament in Europe?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes.

Jacobsen: Second — Did it have to be restarted after a period of inactivity?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes. I do not remember the exact dates, but you can look them up.

Jacobsen: Third point — the party you represented was the Pirate Party?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes.

Jacobsen: The Pirate Party exists in different countries under the same name.

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes.

Jacobsen: So it may mean the same thing — or it may not.

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes.

Jacobsen: What does the Pirate Party stand for in Iceland?

Gunnarsdóttir: In Iceland? That is a good question. I love it. Due to the confusion surrounding the name. Of course, the name originally comes from the idea of “piracy.” The Pirate Party movement was founded by computer enthusiasts who were concerned that politics were not keeping up with technological developments and the evolution of information technology.

The movement had a lot to do with access to information, freedom of speech, freedom of expression, and the right to privacy — the balance between those principles.

But it evolved. In Iceland, the party began with those ideals. People often mistakenly think it is about getting free movies and music. But what attracted me to the movement was not the tech side — I do not have a background in IT. I am a lawyer.

What drew me in was that when you start talking about freedom of expression, access to information, transparency, the fight against corruption, and the right to privacy, you are talking about fundamental rights.

In Iceland, those concerns directly intersect with human rights and constitutional issues — topics that unfortunately do not receive enough political attention.

These are areas where politics have lagged, partly because the public is not aware of how these issues affect them.

For example, one bill that the Pirate Party has presented year after year — though we have always been in the opposition, so it has never passed — is about constitutional review of parliamentary legislation.

Currently, there is no formal constitutional review process in place. That fact is shocking to most people. One reason there is so little concern is that people assume such a review already exists.

They cannot imagine that Parliament would pass laws without checking them against the Constitution. But that is the situation. That is the reality.

So we proposed the creation of a constitutional council that would be independent from Parliament — nonpartisan and separate from politics — that would provide advisory opinions. It would always remain advisory. For example, at the request of a certain number of members of Parliament, the council could review a bill and offer an opinion on its constitutionality.

There are many possible ways to structure the process. Still, the idea is to have a mechanism for constitutional review — something we currently lack. Unfortunately, there has been little interest in this proposal.

People often ask, “How is this related to the Pirate Party?” It is — because it concerns fundamental rights and freedoms, which are at the core of the Pirate Party’s mission. That is the meaning of the movement. And I think that is how most people in Iceland now understand the Pirate Party — because they have seen what we fight for.

We fight for transparency. We are known for that. We have often gained public attention for our relentless efforts to expose corruption in Iceland.

For example, we published a report — this is quite telling. You can see the difference between how conservatives and we, in the Pirate Party, understand transparency and privacy.

I can compare four cases in Iceland where sensitive information was made public — two involving the Pirates and two involving conservatives. And there is an apparent difference between them.

Jacobsen: Do you see the Pirate Party as a kind of Robin Hood party — stealing from the rich and giving to the poor?

Gunnarsdóttir: Well, for instance, in one case that people call a “leak,” we just published the report — it was not a leak at all. We posted it on our website. It was a report about how specific state-owned properties were handled after the 2008 economic collapse. The report had never been made public , so we made it public.

That is what we do. Another report we were accused of leaking did not come from us. But we did not mind people thinking it did, because it was a critical report.

It was leaked two days before its scheduled release. The report concerned the sale of a state-owned bank, and numerous questions arose regarding that transaction.

The report came from the National Audit Office — I was trying to remember the name earlier.

Jacobsen: Finances, accounting, financial statements… audit?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes, the National Audit Office. The report was leaked to the media two days before its official release, and we were blamed for it. We never claimed responsibility, but we also said we did not see anything wrong with it.

The reason the authorities delayed its publication was to control the narrative before the public had access to it. It was actually in the public interest for it to be seen earlier.

The leaks we are blamed for — rightly or wrongly — are always about information relevant to the public, about matters of state.

By contrast, leaks associated with the Independence Party have involved private information — personal data about individuals — intended to discredit or stigmatize them.

In one case, the target was an asylum seeker. So you can see the contrast: they try to say it is the same — ”Oh, you’releaking information too” — but we are leaking public-interest information about state operations. They are leaking private data about vulnerable people.

But they do not seem to understand the difference.

This is what we are known for, and many people understand what the Pirates stand for.

That said, one of the reasons we failed to gain any parliamentary seats in the last election is the growing polarization in society.

The Left-Greens lost voters to the Socialist Party, and the Social Democrats have become stronger. We are moving toward two large political blocs, instead of the many smaller parties that characterized earlier parliaments.

Even though ten parties still ran in the last election, this is the current trend.

So that is the Pirate Party in Iceland — more or less.

Jacobsen: How do you see Iceland’s style of humanism as a reflection of the more global movement? Everyone shares roughly the same values, but they tend to rank or prioritize them differently. Another way to look at it is that when youshine a light through the prism of humanism, the character and colouring of it shift depending on the culture , and even the individual. So, how would you describe the Icelandic version of humanism?

Gunnarsdóttir: That’s a fascinating question, mainly because we are seeing some worrying developments lately. Still, I believe humanism is a significant part of our national identity.

Generally, Icelanders do not identify as religious. Even when people say, “We are a Christian nation,” what they usually mean by that is not literal Christianity — they mean values we associate with humanism: equality, justice, and human rights for all.

Those are the values for which we are known. We have built a reputation for gender equality and queer rights — those are the areas where we’ve been seen as progressive.

But that image is changing somewhat.

So, when people say things like, “Immigrants are threatening our values,” I respond, “No , they are not. You are, by saying that.”

The threat comes not from immigrants but from those of us who fail to uphold, share, and practise our values. Instead of modelling and teaching them, we violate them ourselves.

For example, by passing legislation that limits the rights of refugees — such as removing their ability to appeal decisions — we are actively taking away procedural protections from vulnerable people.

This is very new in Iceland. And it is entirely at odds with our core identity as a society committed to equality.

Jacobsen: Does the attitude toward immigration differ by group? About 8% of your population is Polish, 1% is Lithuanian, and then there’s a mix of others who make up 1% or less each.

Gunnarsdóttir: Is there a difference in how they’re treated? Or is the sentiment more uniform? It hasn’t changed drastically in recent years.

By far, the largest foreign population in Iceland is Polish, and they are relatively well accepted.

The issue has more to do with political rhetoric and how those in power frame the conversation.

For example, the number of refugees in Iceland is still extremely small , statistically negligible. It’s something like 0-point-something percent. There is no significant influx.

Still, if 400 refugees arrive, people act as if Iceland is about to sink into the ocean — yet when 10,000 people come from the European Economic Area (EEA), no one says a word.

The numbers have not increased dramatically in general. The only real spike came in connection with the war in Ukraine.

That was a few years ago now — time passes quickly.

We also had a noticeable group come from Venezuela, which was a trend across Europe.

But even then, the numbers were small — just a few hundred people. And we knew it was a temporary situation.

Despite this, one of the most significant turning points in public discourse came when our Foreign Minister posted something on Facebook…

That moment marked a U-turn in Icelandic political discourse. At the time, Palestinian refugees were protesting outside Parliament.

There’s a small park in front of the Alþingi — it is where protests regularly take place. If you want to demonstrate, that is the designated area.

They had set up a single tent, with authorization from the city. Inside the tent, they stated they would remain there until they were granted family reunification with loved ones still in danger in Gaza.

These were people who had already received approval for family reunification, but had no safe or viable means for their relatives to leave Gaza.

Other countries, including some Nordic states, were utilizing their diplomatic channels to facilitate evacuations. Iceland, however, refused to do so.

At the time, the Foreign Minister — who was also the chair of the conservative Independence Party — posted on Facebook that the tent was “obnoxious” and “horrible” to see in front of such a “respectable institution.”

Jacobsen: To clarify — factually — it was not a tent encampment, but a single tent?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes, just one tent. You could probably fit 20 people inside. But no one was sleeping there. People were sitting, gathering, and talking.

You could pass by and have coffee with them. It was relatively peaceful — almost like a small festival.

Jacobsen: Were there any noise complaints?

Gunnarsdóttir: Not.

Jacobsen: Any complaints of violence or harassment?

Gunnarsdóttir: Not initially. But after the Foreign Minister’s Facebook post — after he called it obnoxious — harassment began. People started targeting those in the tent.

Jacobsen: Just to be clear, was the harassment coming from Icelanders or other recently arrived individuals?

Gunnarsdóttir: It came from Icelanders. The Foreign Minister’s rhetoric stirred something. And the most serious part was at the end of his post — he tried to claim he was addressing two unrelated issues in one article — but he wrote that Iceland also needs to “start getting serious about organized crime.”

Jacobsen: When I was doing fieldwork in Iceland, I was there for about three weeks. It took about a week before I saw even one homeless person. I did not see any others during that time. That individual may have been a beggar rather than homeless. From what I observed, Iceland is quite comfortable.

Gunnarsdóttir: Very comfortable.

Jacobsen: In general. So, how did the public receive the minister’s remarks?

Gunnarsdóttir: There was much backlash. There was much anger. However, I would also say it permitted people who already held those views to speak openly.

It completely shifted the discourse. It increased polarization in a single day. Suddenly, it became socially acceptable to say that asylum seekers are a problem — either they are taking our jobs or draining public benefits. And it is like, okay, which is it? Are they working or not working?

People started claiming that their religion is dangerous. Everything changed almost overnight. And now it is common to hear someone say, “I have no problem with foreigners — it is just asylum seekers and refugees who are here to exploit our social system.”

People feel entitled to talk this way because someone in power has given them a signal. “He must know what he’s talking about,” they assume. But he didn’t even say any of that directly. He just said, “This tent is ugly,” and added something about organized crime.

Jacobsen: Role models and examples matter. Representation matters. 

Gunnarsdóttir: Let me ask you — how many women in hijab did you see during your stay?

Jacobsen: In Iceland?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes. How long did it take? Did you see one on your first day?

Jacobsen: I think I saw one.

Gunnarsdóttir: Exactly.

Jacobsen: It doesn’t stand out.

Gunnarsdóttir: We don’t have a visible increase in diversity on the streets, unlike many other countries. The number of visibly different people is still minimal. We only have the rhetoric — there is no demographic basis for the moral panic.

This rhetoric is the only reason public opinion has changed.

Jacobsen: For the record, how does Lutheranism in Iceland distinguish itself from other Christian denominations? Anddoes religion get invoked in political discourse during moments like these?

It doesn’t have to be about immigration necessarily — just anything that could be seen as contradicting humanist values: equality, fair treatment, dignity, compassion.

Let’s set aside sophisticated legal frameworks, such as democracy, the rule of law, and human rights, for a moment.

Gunnarsdóttir: Well, right now we have two openly populist parties in Parliament — one of them is even part of the governing coalition. They talk about Islam as a threat to our values, and so on. That narrative is very present.

But the number of Muslims in Iceland is minimal — their population is growing, but only by one or two people per year. I don’t have the exact figures, but it’s not very important.

We do not even have one Muslim representative in Parliament. So, how exactly is Islam threatening our values or institutions? It is not. The threat is coming from within — from the political rhetoric and actions of people already in power.

Jacobsen: There’s a North American saying — you might have heard it: “The hate is coming from inside the house.”

And I think Iceland is a perfect example , because we had nothing external driving this. In Iceland, you’re free to speak out, so why the shift in rhetoric? In many countries, people are unable to discuss such issues.

So, we’ve seen pluralistic ignorance: everyone assumes things are fine, while underneath, they’re not.

Gunnarsdóttir: Exactly. It’s like the underreporting of domestic violence — what’s happening in Iceland now feels similar. We’re witnessing changes I never thought possible.

Jacobsen: Can you give specific examples?

Gunnarsdóttir: Take the language around asylum seekers and refugees — that hateful rhetoric would have been unthinkable in Iceland until recently.

Then there’s the legal changes. In March 2023, Parliament passed legislation that — in effect — cuts access to housing and healthcare for rejected asylum seekers 30 days after their application is denied. Previously, they had continued access to basic services while appeals or post-decision reviews were underway.

What’s baffling is why this was necessary. Iceland has had very few severe crime cases involving asylum seekers — perhaps one high-profile violent incident, where non-refoulement meant they couldn’t be deported. So instead, authorities removed international protection status — but still couldn’t deport the person — and then assigned a lower-tier permit with no rights. It’s a punitive measure with no apparent benefit.

What’s driving this? It stems from a desire to apply stricter standards selectively and protect privileges domestically.

Jacobsen: And this measure passed with broad political support?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes — all major parties, including the Social Democrats, the Progressive Party, and the Center Party, supported it. That’s a significant shift for parties traditionally seen as liberal or rights-respecting.

Now there’s talk of establishing a detention center near the airport for deportations — something Iceland has never had. Why does Iceland need it? It’s a small island country with a population of ~400,000 people. Where would deportees go? It all feels unnecessary and harsh.

And it is not like the situation is not challenging. But they want to build a camp — and they are even planning to place children there. This is despite UNICEF, Save the Children, the Red Cross, and all the major humanitarian organizations in Iceland being in protest. And they are being ignored.

Five years ago, I would have said, “That will never happen.” I would have thought that UNICEF would oppose it, and there would be pushback; at the very least, they would keep children out of it. But no.

Jacobsen: Are these reactionary or more populist parties? Are the leaders mostly men?

Gunnarsdóttir: No. One is a man, and one is a woman. One of them is actually in government , and she’s a woman.

Jacobsen: Are there slurs or epithets in Icelandic that are used when this rhetoric is employed?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes.

Jacobsen: What are they — or at least, what are their translations?

Gunnarsdóttir: Well, the most extreme one is “Iceland for Icelanders.” That is the harshest. But most won’t say it openly. Instead, they use coded language. They say things like, “We’re fine with immigrants, as long as they’re better than everyone else.” You’re expected to be perfect — to do everything right — to earn even basic shelter.

You have to work, support your family, speak the language fluently after two weeks — you know, all these impossible expectations.

I don’t recall a specific slogan at the moment. Still, it’s the same as what you hear everywhere: “Foreigners get everything for free, and we can’t even take care of our elderly or disabled.” It is a familiar pattern.

So anyway, the phrases we hear a lot now are like: “I’m not against immigrants, but these asylum seekers and refugees…”And then they go on to say they are leeching off the welfare system, bringing in religion that does not belong here, or that they are criminals.

And none of that is backed up by data. There is absolutely nothing — even slightly — that supports those statements. For example, the refugees we received from Venezuela have higher employment participation rates than Icelanders in the same demographic group.

Gunnarsdóttir: They’re the same age, same background — apart from nationality. And yet, a higher percentage of Venezuelans are employed than Icelanders in the same position. But that changed nothing. The government still wanted to get rid of the Venezuelans.

Jacobsen: Why?

Gunnarsdóttir: And they are not even Muslim. That’s the thing. You cannot blame this on anti-Muslim sentiment in that case. And yes, of course, there are a few complex cases — families who struggle to adjust, who face challenges with integration. But those are the exceptions.

Still, people seize on those few exceptions and treat them as if they were representative of the whole. The conservative newspaper here , Morgunblaðið, “The Morning Paper,” runs stories almost daily about these cases.

Jacobsen: How do you spell that?

Gunnarsdóttir: It’s a long word — Morgunblaðið. But the website is short: mbl. Is. It’s very well-known, and many people in Reykjavík still subscribe to it. They claim to be neutral, but they are not. They constantly report on “security issues” in neighbourhoods with high immigrant populations. The narrative is always the same: teenagers are violent, families are not cooperating with schools, etc.

And yes, there may be two or three families experiencing these issues—families who do not attend parent-teacher meetings or are struggling with their children’s education. But it only takes one of those stories, and suddenly people generalize. They start thinking all refugees are like that, all immigrant communities are like that.

It’s tough to combat. Because the statistics do not support these claims, they say the opposite. However, it’s no longer about statistics or facts. And that’s what makes this whole situation anti-humanist.

People no longer care about evidence or human dignity. They are concerned with fear, control, and exclusion.

Jacobsen: What parts of Iceland would you say are most committed to humanist values?  Ideologically, all of Iceland considers itself a humanist nation. The core of our national identity has long emphasized equality, human rights, and fundamental freedoms for everyone. That’s how we see ourselves — and it’s how the world has come to see us. So yes, people care about that image. But the tragedy is: we’re slowly destroying that reputation — from the inside.

Jacobsen: What is your vision for Siðmennt moving forward?

Gunnarsdóttir: What I promised to do as President — and what I want to do, and what I think is most important now — is to create interreligious cooperation. We need to work together to uphold our shared values.

For example — and you asked this earlier, but I did not answer it — regarding how the Evangelical Lutheran Church, the national church of Iceland, is perceived, how do they differ from other Christian denominations here?

They are very progressive. The Bishop of Iceland is a woman, Agnes M. Sigurðardóttir. And her successor, or coadjutor bishop-elect, has a transgender child. Indeed, it is evident that the church leadership embodies progressive values.

Jacobsen: That’s raising the platform.

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes — raising the platform, raising the body, as it were.

So, I would say the national church is progressive. For example, we’ve seen news about youth — mainly teenagers around confirmation age — going to church more often.

Jacobsen: And the confirmation age is 14?

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes — 13, 14, 15 years old. They’re attending church again, which wasn’t fashionable two years ago. Now, it seems to have become a trend. We’re not sure where it’s coming from. Some people are concerned that it might be coming from social media influencers, like Andrew Tate or others.

But honestly, if that is the case, I would say I’m relieved they’re going to the state church. Because there, they’ll receive a very different message — one grounded in equality and compassion.

I sing in a church choir myself , which is a little ironic, I suppose.

Jacobsen: What is the name of the choir?

Gunnarsdóttir: Kór Hallgrímskirkju. It’s the choir of Hallgrímskirkja — the large church in central Reykjavík.

Jacobsen: What’s the English translation?

Gunnarsdóttir: Hallgrímur was one of our national heroes. He was a poet — Hallgrímur Pétursson. He did not recite his poems, but he wrote a great deal of deeply emotional and spiritual poetry that is still cherished today. The church is named after him.

And yes, it’s one of the most respected choirs in Iceland, and I sing soprano there.

Jacobsen: Are there many sopranos?

Gunnarsdóttir: Not as many as you’d think. You always need fewer of them than people imagine.

Jacobsen: When I was in choir, we were always short on basses — but they were thrilled to have me. I was thinking the same when you mentioned it earlier — that’s my space. We perform pieces like Mozart’s Requiem and similar classical works.

Gunnarsdóttir: That’s actually why I joined the choir. I love classical music, and much of it is religious , Christian in particular. But I do not mind that. It’s deeply emotional. Spiritual music is often the most beautiful and moving. Honestly, it’s one of the most rewarding aspects of religion.

Jacobsen: Yes.

Gunnarsdóttir: When I ran for President of the Humanist Association of Iceland, I worried they might have a problem with me singing in a church choir. But I think they understood.

Jacobsen: George Carlin once said that the only good part of religion is the music. And Nietzsche had that quote — Without music, life would be a mistake. I agree with a lot, but they had their flaws. I interviewed Kelly Carlin — George Carlin’s daughter — years ago, when she published her memoir. We talked about his parenting. He was a very absent father, and his drug issues were overwhelming at times. So his public image did not quite match the private reality. AndNietzsche… well, he was a troubled person, to say the least.

Gunnarsdóttir: And I have many friends who are musicians. One of them told me, “I can’t write good music if I’m mentally okay. That’s the problem.” He said, “I’m seeing a psychologist, and now that I’m doing well, everything I write is boring. There’s no spark.”

It all comes from strong emotions. But even so, you should be able to create when you’re well. Speaking for myself, I didn’t sing in a choir for a couple of years during the COVID pandemic, and I just felt like I was withering. I was like a flower without sunlight. I didn’t want to get out of bed.

So, I joined another choir. I’ve been in choirs since I was a kid — I have to sing. Like you’ve seen here, I go to karaoke all the time. It’s my form of meditation.

Jacobsen: What’s your favourite karaoke song?

Gunnarsdóttir: That depends on the crowd — whether I’m singing in Iceland or abroad. But if I had to pick one right now… I mean, my go-to song these days is Burn from Hamilton.

Jacobsen: Great choice.

Gunnarsdóttir: Thank you. It depends on the mood. Sometimes I sing for myself; sometimes I sing for the crowd. Those are very different choices. Some songs are satisfying to perform — others are better for listening. But Burn… I relate to it deeply. I feel like I become Eliza when I sing it.

The story behind it is compelling. Hamilton, of course, is about Alexander Hamilton, one of the Founding Fathers of the United States. Eliza Hamilton, his wife, sings the song Burn.

There are numerous written historical sources from that era, especially those about Alexander, as he wrote extensively. Letters, essays, speeches — volumes of material. But when it comes to Eliza’s reaction to a particular scandal — his affair — there’s absolutely nothing. Not a single letter, not a single line. Historians have searched, and the prevailing theory is that she destroyed all the correspondence about it.

So in the song, she says: “I’m burning the letters. I’m burning the memories. Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted.”

It’s so emotionally rich. First, she sings about how their love made the world feel like it was burning — and then she takes that metaphor and turns it into an act of defiance, burning his legacy of betrayal. It’s devastating and beautiful.

Gunnarsdóttir: And then at the end of the song, she says, “I hope that you burn.” She’s furious — but it is such a decisive moment. The music is incredible. It’s beautiful.

I admire the work of Lin-Manuel Miranda, the writer of Hamilton and other musicals.

Jacobsen: Although Hamilton has been criticized, right? There are some problematic elements.

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes, of course. It’s very problematic. It’s about the founding of the United States, and it casts nearly the entire group of Founding Fathers using actors of colour. I think only two characters are portrayed by white actors. While that was a deliberate artistic decision — and it does something quite powerful in terms of representation — it still glosses over some very uncomfortable historical truths.

Jacobsen: Including issues of age and slavery?

Gunnarsdóttir: It’s still the story of the United States — founded on colonialism, slavery, and exclusion. You could say it’s a kind of historical revisionism. And yet, I still like it. I appreciate the music, the emotion. It’s moving, even with its flaws.

Jacobsen: Do you find, when interacting with people around the world — especially in humanist circles — that there’s sometimes a sense of over-intellectualization? Like, a fixation on clarity and precise language that ends up feeling sterile? Like a Styrofoam cup: perfectly formed, but lacking the vitality and passion of a karaoke song or a choral piece?

Gunnarsdóttir: I would not quite put it that way. But I see what you mean. I think this tension is always there — we humans are both simple and complex. Our ideologies are the same — simple and complex at once. You will always have groups that obsess over the details, and you will always see that it’s the bigger picture that reaches people.

So, I don’t know. It’s about context. There’s a time and place for everything. And sometimes, emotional resonance—through music or story—reaches farther than precision ever can.

For example, I also really liked The Greatest Showman, even though it’s about a highly problematic figure: P.T. Barnum, the man who invented the circus and early versions of the modern zoo. In the beginning, he used disabled people and others seen as “different” to create a spectacle , clearly exploitative.

But in the film, he’s portrayed as this heroic figure who gave marginalized people opportunities. And maybe, at that time, it felt that way for some. I don’t know.

However, it isn’t very easy. The story is sanitized, emotional, and inspiring — but the reality behind it is much messier. It’s like many “progressive” portrayals: they’re uplifting, but they risk simplifying ethical debates in ways that’re too simplistic.

Jacobsen: It reminds me of specific secular or philosophical conversations , especially about equality. Someone might say, “It was revolutionary to promote equality in the first century or the seventh century,” and the response is always: “Yes , for the first century. But we’re not in the first century anymore.” That’s the tension. It’s like freezing an ethical stance in time, then wrapping it in transcendental language. It feels noble , but it also avoids the real challenge of evolving ethics. And that tension — it’s everywhere.

Gunnarsdóttir: But I think just the fact that these musicals generate discussion is a good thing. The fact that we’re willing to talk about them — that we have open debate around Hamilton or The Greatest Showman — that’s useful. That’s what matters.

The ability to reflect and think critically — that’s at the core of humanism. It’s central to everything: our ability to examine, question, and grow. So yes, maybe there are people who are more fanatical or uncompromising in their critiques than I am — but I respect that too.

Jacobsen: What did your time in Parliament teach you , especially in a country where religion is broadly in decline, and gender equality is achieved mainly in some sectors, though still lagging in others? We could also discuss the Nordic paradox if you’d like. But specifically, from 2021 to 2024, what was the most important takeaway for you?

Gunnarsdóttir: The most crucial lesson — personally and ideologically — was this: all the people elected to Parliament in Iceland, at least in my experience, are there because they genuinely want to improve society.

That was a big realization. They may have different visions of what “better” looks like, but they are not there for selfish reasons , not for personal gain or corruption. Before I entered Parliament, I lived in my social bubble. I think, subconsciously, I believed that the so-called “bad guys” were only there to serve their interests. However, I no longer hold that belief.

Iceland may be different from other countries, of course . Still, for me, this belief became very strong: that all of them, regardless of party, are trying to build a better future.

And what surprised me most is that I made friends across ideological lines — people my social circle would probably despise. However, we became friends because we shared a fundamental value: a desire to improve society. We disagree on how to get there, or on what a good society looks like.

But that shared intention is powerful. It helped me understand others more deeply — and that, in turn, made it easier to communicate my values and goals. Because if you cannot understand someone else’s perspective, it is almost impossible to explain your own in a way that resonates.

Jacobsen: So empathy became a bridge.

Gunnarsdóttir: Exactly. That was the most important lesson: to understand where people are coming from.

Jacobsen: Why? Why do they hold these opinions — some of them so unreasonable?

Gunnarsdóttir: I know. And at first, it felt like wandering through a forest of hidden trolls. But you’re right to ask.

What was fascinating to me was realizing that just as I may find them unethical, they think I — and people like me on the left — are unethical. They see us as disloyal.

For them, loyalty is a core moral value. It’s important to us, too, but we tend to place justice and equality even higher. For instance, when we expose wrongdoing within our political circles, they perceive it as immoral. They view it as a betrayal.

Jacobsen: That’s a very revealing difference in ethical hierarchy.

Gunnarsdóttir: That, in my opinion, is one reason why the left is so often fractured — we value truth and justice over loyalty. Meanwhile, conservatives prioritize loyalty above nearly all else. It’s right there in the root of the word: conserve— to preserve, to remain loyal to what is.

Jacobsen: It’s almost like a political expression of filial piety.

Gunnarsdóttir: I wasn’t sure what that meant when I first heard it, but yes — family loyalty. That’s a perfect analogy.

These same people-the ones with views I disagree with-they are also the ones who ask, “Why aren’t these refugees staying home and rebuilding their own countries?” And it’s not only about rejecting foreigners. Partly, yes, they don’t want them here. However, their ethical framework also states that if their own country were in crisis, they would stay. They would fight. They would endure. They would never abandon it.

So, when someone leaves their country and seeks refuge here, it’s seen as a betrayal of duty and national loyalty. That’s why it feels unethical to them.

When I understood that — when I grasped how their priorities are arranged — it changed everything. I realized that we have different moral frameworks. We’re not speaking the same ethical language.

Jacobsen: That’s a significant shift in perception.

Gunnarsdóttir: It was. And it made me rethink the way I was raised, too. I mean, growing up, my mother—she’s a leftist—would sometimes talk about conservatives in really dehumanizing terms. She described them almost as monsters, animals. And I took that in.

But now I see that they’re not monsters. They may be behaving in ways I find monstrous — especially when rejecting vulnerable people — but they believe they’re doing the right thing. That understanding has helped me connect with others. And I think that connection is crucial.

It’s the only way to bridge divides — by seeing others not as evil but as coming from a different starting point, once we find that shared ground, we can build dialogue.

For example, I’ll say to them: “You believe that for society to be just, peaceful, and stable, we need clear rules that apply to everyone. You believe in the rule of law because it brings order.” And they’ll say, “Yes.”

And from there I say, “Then don’t you also believe that everyone should have the opportunity to correct a wrong decision? That everyone should have the right to seek justice?” And often, they agree. That’s the kind of bridge we need.

Of course. Okay — maybe we can talk about that instead. Instead of saying, “Oh, just feel sorry for those poor immigrants,” — which they will not relate to, because that’s not their core concern — we can talk about how we want our society to function. That’s where we find agreement.

This is how you make progress, even when you fundamentally disagree on other issues. And we’ve lost sight of that. I think we’ve lost sight of the importance of finding common ground. People are no longer interested in it.

It’s become so polarized that now, if you show even understanding of someone else’s perspective, it’s seen as agreement. And that, in turn, brings consequences — social consequences, professional ones. People fear showing empathy because it may be interpreted as betrayal.

Jacobsen: It becomes a kind of moral absolutism: either you agree with me, or you’re the enemy. But there’s an analytical difference between saying, “I understand you,” and “I agree with you.”

Gunnarsdóttir: Yes. And we need to find where we agree, because there are layers to all of our opinions. If we can identify one of those layers where there is alignment, then maybe we can work from there.

That doesn’t mean we’ll always reach a perfect conclusion or a solution that makes everyone happy. That’s not realistic. But simply acknowledging that we have more in common than we often admit — that’s something. And it matters.

Jacobsen: Absolutely, any final comments?

Gunnarsdóttir: Not really. I think in the end, we are all humanists — wherever we come from and wherever we go. We need to realize that. I believe in everybody’s humanity.

Jacobsen: Thank you for the opportunity and your time, Arndis.

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