ORDERED
ANARCHY, STATE, AND RENT-SEEKING: THE
ICELANDIC COMMONWEALTH, 930-1262
by
Birgir T. Runolfsson Solvason
6. THE POLITICAL
ECONOMY OF RENT-SEEKING AND THE END
OF THE COMMONWEALTH
The Theory of Rent-Seeking
The Wealth and Power
Struggle
Rent-Seeking in the
Commonwealth
Concentration of
Power
End of the Commonwealth
Economic Decline?
Summary
6. THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF RENT-SEEKING AND THE END
OF THE COMMONWEALTH
Bishop Gizur was loved more intensely by the whole population, than
any other man, to our knowledge, has ever been in this country. As a result
of his popularity, and his and Sæmundur's recommendations, and by
the advice of Markús the lawspeaker, a law was passed that everyone
should count and appraise his property; and swear that the evaluation was
correct, whether land or chattels, and then pay tithes thereof. It shows
the great power of the man that the people as a whole obeyed him; that
he succeeded to complete the appraisal of all real and personal property
in Iceland under oath, and collected tithes thereof. A law was also passed
which made this compulsory as long as Iceland was inhabited.
The Book of the Icelanders1
In the previous chapter I discussed the Goði-þingmann
relationship and how this relationship changed during the course of the
Commonwealth. An important aspect of this was rent-seeking. The term, "rent-seeking,"
denotes the monetary income the chieftains derive through their relations
with farmers. Although the chieftains were simply trying to get income
greater than their expenses, i.e. trying to profit from the situation,
the term profit-seeking does not capture the essence of this behaviour.
This chapter, therefore, describes the theory of rent-seeking and distinguishes
rent-seeking from profit-seeking. This theory is then used to explain the
decline and fall of the Commonwealth. Finally, I discuss the alternative
views of historians on the end of the Commonwealth, and explain and distinguish
my own view.
THE THEORY OF RENT-SEEKING
The term rent-seeking is first used in publication in Anne O. Krueger's
article "The Political Economy of the Rent-Seeking Society,"
(1974). Seven years earlier Gordon Tullock (1967) had offered the first
systematic discussion of "rent-seeking" activities without using
the term "rent-seeking." These articles analyzed situations where
restrictions on trade, most notably government restrictions, predominate.2
Restricted markets offer different behaviourial incentives than unrestricted
markets. It should be emphasized though that profit motives do not differ
much from one situation to the other (Buchanan 1987a:17). Restricted market
situations are not actually markets, since the market is by definition
unhampered by imposed regulation. Rent-seeking is predominantly found in
these non-market situations, although it can occasionally be found in some
market situations (Tollison 1987:145).
The term "rent" refers to "that part of the payment
to an owner of resources over and above that which those resources could
command in any alternative use. Rent is receipt in excess of opportunity
cost" (Buchanan 1980a:3). "Rents" does not refer to the
"rent" collected by landlords or paid by renters. Rent appears
both in market and non-market situations, or in profit-seeking and rent-seeking
situations. Profit-seeking is distinguished from rent-seeking by contrasting
the consequences of rents-seeking with the consequences of profit-seeking.
These consequences are, of course, unintended, since the individuals in
both situations behaving alike and have the same motivations.
The institutional settings where rent-seeking occurs generally maximize
social waste and minimize social benefits.3
The institutional settings where profit-seeking occurs, on the other hand,
maximize social benefits and minimize social waste. Profit-seeking occurs
in the unhampered market and rents "emerge from the increments
to value that are created by entrepreneurs who put together new
resource combinations, or who meet new demands" (Buchanan 1987a:17).
Rent-seeking occurs in non-market settings in which "there are no
increments to value created. Instead, the value that potential rent-seekers
attempt to secure is artificially created through interferences with resource
adjustments" (Buchanan 1987a:17-18). Rent-seeking, as distinguished
from simple profit-seeking, can therefore be defined as "expenditure
of scarce resources to capture a pure transfer," (Ekelund and Tollison
1981:19).4 In a monopoly, for example, output
is "fixed" or can be restricted and so would the rents at that
monopoly price. Aside from the usual dead-weight loss associated with monopoly
another "loss", rent-seeking, occurs where firms spend resources
to acquire the rents. If competitive bidding is allowed then the resources
spent on rent-seeking may equal the actual rents to be gained from the
monopoly. In less competitive situations the rents may not be totally dissipated.
Although rent-seeking is most likely to occur when states (governments
or monarchs) grant monopolies or other privilege through licensing, it
may also occur by private collusion (Tollison 1987:145). Oligopolies, for
example, are engaged in rent-seeking when they use competitive advertising.
Other examples of rent-seeking behaviour occur in the Mafia and when siblings
compete for an inheritance. Rent-seeking is not limited to producers or
firms. Rent-seeking by individuals or groups can occur wherever there are
artificially contrived transfers or the output level is not competitive.5
Rent-seeking can also been seen as a two-stage game or process (Tollison
1987:153). The first stage is the creation of artificial barriers in the
market, i.e. the creation of a non-market out of a market. Individuals
at this stage try to control the political apparatus that "creates,
enforces, and assigns rent flows" (Tollison 1987:153). The second-stage
of rent-seeking occurs with the competition for rents in particular instances.6
Here, in non-market situations with artificial barriers already in place,
individuals compete to get rents or positions in the rent flow. The two
stages of rent-seeking are equally important and are in a sense two sides
of the same coin. To my story here they are also of equal importance. In
the first stage, Icelandic institutions evolved or were created to ensure
rent flows, while in the second stage the chieftains and others competed
for these rents, undermining the Commonwealth.
Now, I examine the historical details of the end of the Commonwealth in
light of the above theory of rent-seeking.
THE WEALTH AND POWER STRUGGLE
Although occasionally assuming pretensions of rulers, the stórgoðar
were unable to establish effective regional states. Especially in the last
decades of the Free State, their careers tended to be short and their hold
on power became insecure as their feuds increased. Rather than setting
up effective administrations dependent on sheriffs, bailiffs, and other
functionaries of a central political hierarchy, individual leaders usually
did not have the time or the authority to replace older forms of government.
(Byock 1988:74)
Most historians support the "political struggle" theory.7
The political struggle blamed for the end of the Commonwealth is said to
start late in the 11th or early 12th century. At that time the Church had
its first Icelandic bishop, Ísleifur, and succeeding him was his
son Gizur. Bishop Gizur is not only credited with establishing the Church
as an institution, i.e. providing it with a church building along with
farm land to provide income, but with providing it with a secure means
of future income, taxation. The Church's land and building was at Skálholt
and later bishops lived there and participated in trade, farm production
and teaching in a Church school. In 1096 the Alþing, through
the advocacy of the bishop and the Lawsayer, accepted a form of taxation,
the Tithe (Tíundargjald). The Tithe replaced the requirement
for free-farmers to house and feed poor people, providing the Hreppur
itself with income necessary to care for the poor. This tax also replaced
voluntary contributions by parish members to local churches. The Tithe
was a property tax, assessed 1% of the farmer's wealth.
After collection the tax was divided into four parts; one part was sent
to the Church (the bishop), one to the Hreppur (for the poor), on to the
local church (to reimburse building costs and maintenance), and one to
the local priest (his salary). The two latter fourths actually went to
the owner of the church-building, who then provided the church-building
and paid the priest. The owners often became priests at their own local
churches, until the Church (the Pope and the bishops) restricted this late
in the 12th century.
RENT-SEEKING IN THE COMMONWEALTH
Thus the introduction of tithes paved the way for an increasing accumulation
of wealth by a relatively small number of people, even if still in the
name of the Church. This again laid the foundation for serious conflicts
over church lands, which contributed to the general breakdown of Icelandic
society. (Hastrup 1985:193)8
[I]t was the system of funding the church that ultimately provided
the apparatus for some men to skim the production of their neighbours.
(Miller 1990:5)9
It is my contention that the acceptance of the Tithe in Iceland
is an example of rent-seeking. The Church by proposing the tax secures
a steady and guaranteed income for itself, as Pope Gregory had demanded,
and in doing so offers the "lawmakers", the chieftains, the same.
The Chieftains had previously gotten income from various contributions,
such as the church fee, the Alþing fee (þingfararkaup),
legal fees, trade fees, etc., but the Tithe offered them a higher
and steadier income. But even if the Church and the chieftains (along with
church owning farmers) had a self-interest in accepting the tax, the tax
paying public should not have.
Historical sources do not clearly describe the original Tithe, i.e.
we do not know if the Tithe was originally only a tax on land or
if it had a broader impact, as it had later (Stefánsson 1975:60-61).
If the tax was limited in scope to begin with, then the free farmers may
not have seen much to bother about. Actually, they may have preferred to
pay one simple tax instead of various fees.10 The
farmers may have accepted even a tax wider in scope for this reason, and
because the tax provided a stable structure to provide tax-funded services.
The only thing the Sagas make clear is that the farmers were anti-tax;
this becomes clearer later in the Commonwealth. Previous chapters show
that the most plausible explanation for the farmer's acceptance of the
tax was the farmer's lack of choice. The chieftains had been gaining the
upper hand in their relation with the farmers ever since the formation
of the Commonwealth. By the end of the 11th century, the chieftain's
position, taking into account their alliance with the Church and wealthy
church owning farmers, had gotten so strong that they could interpret the
law in any way they wanted, as long as all of them agreed. Eggertsson implies
this, saying:
"During the early Commonwealth, the law appears to have functioned
well, but toward the end of the period the chieftains either ignored the
law or manipulated it for their personal ends." (Eggertsson 1990:310)11
The Church and the Chieftains were sure to exempt themselves from the taxation
whenever possible. All properties given to God or intended for religion
purposes were exempt from taxation and so was the institution of chieftainship.
The Church and the chieftains were supposed to pay taxes on other properties,
but to a large extent circumvented these rules. The tax-law, for example,
exempted local churchplaces, the staðir, from taxation. Owners
of local churches went on to declare most of their property as staðir
and declared their families as guardians of the property.12
Even the institution of chieftainship was tax-exempt, although chieftainships
were marketable commodities.13
The description above corresponds to the first-stage of rent-seeking; the
"competition to control the political apparatus that creates, enforces,
and assigns rent flows," (Tollison 1987:153). Although the political
structure was firmly in place in the Icelandic Commonwealth before the
Tithe was introduced, the introduction of the tax itself restructured
these institutions. Before imposition of the tax, the chieftains were the
sole political authority in the country, but after the tax's introduction
the Church and wealthier farmers contended with them for this power (Stefánsson
1975).14 If unanimity among the chieftains was
required for the acceptance of the new tax-law, then the Tithe as
it was actually accepted, was probably the only possible form of general
taxation that could be agreed upon. Some of the Southern chieftains (Oddverjar
and Haukdælir) controlled the institution of the Church. These
chieftains, by getting the others to accept a portion for the Church, would
therefore receive more revenue than the others. The other chieftains, in
turn, had no way of getting a tax accepted without the approval of the
Church. A stalemate would likely have resulted, if not for the exemption
of all chieftain's from taxation. These exemptions as mentioned above included
the local ecclesiastical institutions (staðir) and the chieftainship
(goðorð) itself. Furthermore, in the 12th century Northern
chieftains demanded, and got, another bishop for the Northern part of the
country. The Northern bishops at Hólar, were independent
of the ones at Skálholt. Since not all staðir
were owned by chieftains, but, rather, many were owned by wealthy farmers
they too could be relied on to support the new tax. It is therefore likely
with this coalition of the Church, chieftains and the wealthier farmers
was powerful enough that it did not really matter what the other free-farmers
thought.
The assignment of rents was therefore decided by the tax-law. Now a second-stage
of rent-seeking occurred, with competition for rents in particular instances.15
CONCENTRATION OF POWER
"The eventual breakdown of the system was preceded by (1) a strengthening
of the relative position of the chieftains vis-a-vis their liegemen, and
(2) the merger of the thirty-nine competitive firms (chieftains) into a
few oligarchic firms." (Eggertsson 1990:308-9)
The second-stage of the rent-seeking occurred when chieftains tried to
acquire more sources of revenue within the structure created. In other
words, they now spent real resources to capture pure transfers. This took
the form of bringing under their control more followers (þingmenn),
local churches (staðir), and chieftainships (goðorð).
By getting more followers the chieftains made other chieftains comparatively
weaker in strength and wealth. To get followers a chieftain had to offer
some "services" in turn for the tax he got from the farmer. Aside
from providing church services and aid to his followers, the chieftain
distributed gifts. At given levels of revenue, at some margin, this would
become uneconomical. The chieftains therefore began to acquire more staðir,
and finally sought to control and acquire other chieftainships. By controlling
more staðir and chieftainships, the competition for tax-payers
was lessened and returns would potentially have been higher. By controlling
more than one chiefdom, the chieftains established Greater Chiefdoms (Stór
Goðorð).16
The first known Greater Chiefdom developed in Northern Iceland in the early
11th century. The chieftain there owned two chiefdoms, probably acquiring
them through marriage or inheritance. In the 12th and 13th century Greater
Chiefdoms became common, and, finally, all the chiefdoms became concentrated
in five Greater Chiefdoms. Some of these could properly be called states
(ríki) rather than chiefdoms, since their chieftains became
rulers (or war lords), and the boundaries of most chiefdoms even became
geographically fixed. Sigurðsson (1989:139-40) has summarized this
concentration of power neatly:
"The earliest phase in the process of power concentration probably
started in the 11th century, and involved the first stage in the formation
of lordships consisting of a territorial unit called a ríki.
A ríki was a district with fairly fixed boundaries, comprising
at least three to six goðorð, and one or two vorthing-parishes.
During the 11th century, ríki were established by the Haukdælir
in Árnesþing, the Ásbirningar in Hegranesþing,
and the Svínfellingar and the Austfirðingar in Austfirðingarfjórðungur.
Only the results of the first phase of power concentration are known; but
the available information, sparse though it may be, indicates that it ran
a slow, peaceful course.
The second phase of power concentration started in the early 12th century,
and involved the establishment of a ríki by the Oddverjar
in Rangárþing. This was shortly after the introduction of
a tithe was approved at the Althing in 1096/97.
The third phase in the concentration of power and the formation of ríki
came in the last quarter of the 12th, and the first quarter of the 13th
century. The development of ríki in Eyjafjörður
and Þingeyjarþing started at the end of the 1180's, and was
finalised in 1215 when Sighvatur Sturluson gained control of the district's
six goðorð. At the beginning of the 13th century, Snorri
Sturluson, Sighvatur's brother, established a ríki in Borgarfjörður,
covering area on both sides of the boundary between the Sunnlendinga and
Vestfirðinga quarters.
To the best of our present knowledge, the concentration of power in Árnesþing,
Rangárþing, Hegranesþing and Austfirðingafjórðungur
involved a long, steady process. In other districts, such as Eyjafjörður
together with Þingeyjarþing, and Borgarfjörður, the
process started later and went at a faster rate, the latter being partly
due to the use of pressure and coercion. The only exception was the unruly
district of Vestfirðir, which for a long time exhibited no more than
a tendency toward the formation of a ríki. It was not until
the late 1240's that Þórður kakali, later succeeded by
Hrafn Oddsson, managed to exert stable control over Vestfirðir.
By 1220, most of the ríki had taken shape, and the fourth
and final phase of the process was initiated. Five families - the Ásbirningar,
the Sturlungar, the Haukdælir, the Oddverjar, and the Svínfellingar
- controlled almost all of the 39 goðorð. Conflicts now
involved ríki, not goðorð as before. The power
struggles of this period resulted in the creation of the stórríki,
which contained two or more ríki, or nine goðorð
and three vorthing-parishes."
Aside from controlling more staðir and chiefdoms through blood
relations, chieftains also established small "armies" and fought
for control of other chiefdoms. But one chieftain's killing of another
chieftain was not enough to gain control of the latter's chiefdom. The
triumphing chieftain had to offer "services" or gifts to the
followers of the fallen chieftain so they would accept his leadership.
The gain of another staður or chiefdom therefore not only resulted
in a gain of revenue for the triumphant chieftain, but also increased his
expenses.
Despite the law stating that the farmers were free to choose a chieftain
to follow and change their allegiance each year, it seems that with the
advent of the political struggle this choice all but disappeared.17
A chieftain holding two out of three chieftainships in a local-þing
really had an exclusive say on local matters. Thus, the farmers had little
choice but to accept the chieftain's word as law. Of course, the farmers
might have revolted so the chieftains made sure that at least a majority
of the farmers were comparatively satisfied with his rule. This the chieftain
would do by distributing gifts, upholding order, and representing his followers
against other "states."18
In some cases a chieftain controlled not only a few local-þings,
but the majority of chieftainships in a Quarter-þing. In most
cases the local or quarter-þings, were simply put off, and
only the Alþing itself survived. At times even the Alþing
was unworkable because some chieftains would not attend.19
This concentration of power, wealth-seeking and the state of war (with
relatively small casualties) was the major reason for the fall of the Commonwealth.
The major contenders in this struggle were the chieftains, the Church,
and the Norwegian kings. All wanted more power and wealth. The Church demanded
control over its own affairs, both in judicial and financial matters. The
Church demanded its own internal law and tried to gain control, sometimes
successfully, of staðir. Some of the chieftains were allied
or related to the bishops, and therefore took the Church's side. The other
chieftains saw that a more independent and wealthy Church could only come
at their expense. These chieftains resisted the expansion of the Church,
and some made alliances with the Norwegian kings. The kings were ready,
especially in the 13th century, to make temporary alliances to gain foothold
in Iceland.20
The free farmers, especially the wealthier ones, participated in the political
struggle both by helping with other actors and acting independently to
secure their own advantage. To participate in the struggle they needed
revenue, initiating their own form of taxation and the offering of gifts
to farmers.
The supply of money from mints or other sources was always limited in Iceland,
and as time went by money became even more scarce. To pay the tax the free
farmers generally paid in commodity money, such as skins, wool, cows, pieces
of metal, etc. This meant that the Church and other receivers of the tax
engaged in trade to monetize these commodities. The chieftains had always
been involved in trade-related activities and in assessing the value of
goods ("price-controls"), and their involvement in trade was
not new. The Church, on the other hand, had not existed as an institution
before the tax; in becoming an independent institution, it needed for the
first time to participate in trade. Since the Icelandic Church was part
of the Norwegian archbishops area, it naturally traded with Norway. As
the Norwegian kings controlled the Norwegian church, they also controlled
trade with the Commonwealth. This, along with the fact that Norway was
one of the bigger market for Icelandic goods, may explain why the Norwegians
came to monopolize Icelandic trade.
Despite this monopoly, trade continued between the two countries except
during periods of hardship in Norway. But by 1200 some markets changed
for Icelandic goods and inflation took off. This explains the trade hostilities
in Iceland in the early 13th century. In 1215 the chieftains in Southern
Iceland set prices (price controls) on various goods so that the Norwegian
traders refused to sell. The Icelanders than raided the Norwegian ships,
and so provided disincentives for other merchants to trade with Iceland
and involved the Norwegian king directly in trade matters, as the merchant's
protector. Earl Skúli, then ruler of Norway, is said to have proposed
an invasion of Iceland. Through the persuasive efforts of some Icelandic
chieftains he relented.
ECONOMIC DECLINE?
Others theorize the decline of the Commonwealth was caused by an overall
decline of the island's economy. This theory was originally based on a
clause in the agreement of 1262/64 between the Icelanders and the Norwegian
kings. This agreement, referred to as the Old Covenant (Gamli
Sáttmáli), guaranteed that the king of Norway, now king
of Iceland, would have 6 ships sail for Iceland every year. Some historians
have interpreted this as suggesting that Iceland's foreign trade had declined
dramatically, to such an extent in fact that the islanders made the agreement
solely to restore trade.21
Historians have therefore looked at the records to determine whether there
was such an economic decline. The two factors most often used to support
the theory of an economic decline are: Firstly, that Icelanders owned almost
no ships after the year 1100, and thereby had lost control of the island's
trade relations. Secondly, certain export markets for Icelandic goods either
declined or even disappeared. Historians, such as Gelsinger (1981), claim
that the number of ships in the ownership of Icelanders declined steadily
throughout the Commonwealth period.22 Some have
claimed that Iceland's lack of forests and the great expense of ships abroad
explains the dwindling of Iceland's fleet. But trees were imported for
other purposes, and could also have been imported for shipbuilding. The
claim that ships were expensive is not supported by the record. Shipbuilding
was becoming more sophisticated and cheaper.23 Gelsinger
claims "around the beginning of the eleventh century, land probably
became a better investment because the shortage of free labour would have
grown less extreme as the population expanded" (Gelsinger 1981:160).
This may explain why Icelanders stopped investing in new vessels, but would
not explain why this would have caused an economic decline. Gelsinger fails
to explain why the lack of ship ownership in Iceland would have any effects
on trade or the economy. The lack of shipownership in Iceland should not
have had much or any effect on the level of trade. Norwegian and other
merchants, an economic class Iceland never developed, owned ships and traded
with the islanders. If there had been an unfulfilled need to trade, surely
the islanders could have and would have bought their own ships.
Gelsinger and others claim that the records confirm that fewer and fewer
foreign ships, mostly Norwegian, arrived in Iceland each year. It is doubtful,
as these historians suggest, that the Sagas would record every ship
arrival, the records certainly confirm this contention. But, since the
records seem to mention the number of ship arrivals mainly in years when
a high number of them arrived and when only a few or none arrived, it might
be just as plausible that when a proper number of arrivals did occur that
was not noteworthy. In any case, it should be expected that fewer ships
would arrive each year, unless one wants to claim that the foreign trade
was actually increasing. The reason for expecting fewer arrivals is mainly
that the ships were getting bigger, carrying as much as three times the
load of earlier vessels.24 Sea voyages were
not only becoming more profitable because of cheaper ships, cheaper both
in building and operating costs, but voyages were also becoming safer,
with the advance of the magnetic compass.25
It is also doubtful, as Gelsinger and others claim, that the Icelanders
were in any way dependent on trade or that they ever really traded that
much. The island was in most ways a self-sufficient economy, although,
of course, Icelanders would have and probably did gain from trade. The
fact that grain, for example, could only be produced in very limited amounts
in Iceland does not mean that the island was therefore dependent on trade.
It is probably more accurate to say that Icelanders learned to get by without
its use. As for other goods, Icelanders quickly learned to utilize all
that nature would give them. As for meat, it is more likely that the island
was an exporter of it than an importer.26
The main production goods for trading purposes, whether within the country
or abroad, were various wool products. Vaðmál and Varafeldir,
for example, were the main export goods (as well as being units of account).
Byock summarizes the mainstay of the economy well:
"As the Icelanders, from early on, specialized in the exploitation
of sheep by-products, exports were chiefly raw wool, different grades of
homespun cloth, and a type of rough woollen cloak (varafeldir).
Through this specialization they obtained, at least in one area of production,
a comparative advantage that lowered their costs, making it feasible for
them to participate in international trade. The goods were produced by
a widespread cottage industry, and woollen products became a useful vehicle
of exchange within the country. Along with merchandise derived from sheep
raising, some trade was conducted in other farm products, for example,
horses, hides, and sometimes cheese. Also there was a limited trade in
sulphur and exotics such as white falcons." (1988:96-97)27
Production of the main export goods increased during the Commonwealth,
but of course production changes accompanied market changes. Around 1200
there were major market changes, the market for Varafeldir disappeared
and the price of Vaðmál declined temporarily.28
Even if these market changes caused a depression in Iceland, it did not
cause total economic ruin.29
There may also have been some locally produced factors that could have
interrupted trade temporarily. The chieftains attempts at price-controls,
for example, have been suggested to have driven merchants away:
"[T]he 13th century chieftains, by imposing severe price controls
on the Norwegian traders who came to the country each summer, only managed
to drive them away. It became uneconomical to trade with the Icelanders."
(Gissurarson 1990:19)
Other historians have disputed this, and claim that price-controls were
exceptional.30
Since no real economic statistics were recorded in the period it is hard
to see that the economy did decline, in fact this lack of statistics make
any claim less convincing. But even if we assume that an economic decline
did occur, it seems that the reasons mentioned above could not have been
the cause of that decline. Instead, a more plausible cause of an economic
decline would have been found in the decline of Iceland's institutional
structure. The continuous quest and struggle for staðir, for
example, would be expected to not only interrupt trade and normal economic
life, but further waste resources in the process.
Another institutional feature, laws biased against the development of a
fishing industry were in effect during this period, and would have prevented
the development of an alternative means of income for the Icelanders. Iceland
has always been, and still is, known as an obscure fishing station in the
middle of the Atlantic. The settlers immediately used this resource for
themselves, and later began exports of stockfish. Mainly, though, fishing
was a side employment and farming continued to be the main one. But as
other nations began increasing their demand for fish products, Icelanders,
as well as the Norwegians, responded with increased exports. How much these
fish exports accounted for in Iceland we do not know.31
But there must have some exports of fish, since at least two places in
Iceland specialized in fish-processing before the end of the 12th century
(Þorsteinsson 1980:211-212;Miller 1990:79). Sometime before the year
1200, though, the law was rectified such that individuals and their families
were not allowed to have fishing and fish-processing as their sole occupation
unless their local Hreppur allowed them and took responsibility
for them (Þorsteinsson 1980:209). Whatever the reasons for this change
in the law, the change probably did prevent further development of the
industry.32
Among historians, Þorsteinsson (1953;1966;1980) has been in the forefront
of denying any "economic decline" explanation as the cause of
the end of the Commonwealth (See also Líndal 1964:33). He not only
claims that economic conditions were better at the end of the Commonwealth,
but that even if a decline did occur, it would only have been temporary
and the Icelanders would have known from experience that it would be. As
evidence of "progress" both the beginning of taxation, the tithe
(Tíundargjald), in 1096 and the ever increasing "welfare
system" support it.33 Further, the rise
of the Church, educational institutions, and the productiveness in Saga
and other writing also support a theory of increased well-being. The conclusion
here will be that the "economic decline" theory fails to offer
supportive evidence that withstands scrutinization and is therefore rejected.
The historical record does, therefore, not allow us to conclude that there
was a general economic decline in the Commonwealth. But, if there indeed
was an economic decline, then it certainly was not the cause for the fall
of the Commonwealth.
The real cause for the ship-guarantee clause in the Old Covenant of
1262-64, driving all the economic decline explanations, is that during
economic downturns in Norway no trade with Iceland took place. Therefore
the guarantee that the Icelanders had put into the agreement was to secure
supplies from Norway during such periods.34
THE END OF THE COMMONWEALTH
"The fall of the commonwealth in 1262-64, marked by the agreement
to pay tax to the King of Norway, is the usual closing bracket for studies
of early Iceland. The conventional practice is not without merit. The demise
of the grand saga sensibility occurs soon enough after the political change
to suggest some causal linkage. The change in governing institutions could
not have had all that great an impact on day-to-day life for the greater
part of the population, but the native conceptual universe seems to have
soon been transformed significantly. By the early fourteenth century the
creativity, the synergistic coupling of the heroic and pragmatic, that
produced the sagas was gone." (Miller 1990:41)
When Hákon becomes king, in 1217, a policy for "overtaking"
Iceland seems to be initiated. Hákon offered new alliances with
the chieftains, made them part of the Royal Circle, obligating the chieftains
to adhere to his royal rules and wishes. A part of Hákon's deal
was that his chieftain allies were to convince Icelanders to pay taxes
to him and him alone and the king would guarantee the peace. The king was
making an investment that could later bring ample returns. Chieftains in
allying themselves voluntarily with the king had an obligation to obey
the kings wishes and demands, and if they opposed him in any way surrendered
their property to the king.35 The chieftains
may not have seen any advantage in fulfilling the king's wishes, since
their income might be lower under his rule, and therefore most did not
obey him. The king declared these "traitors" and demanded possession
of their property. To present cases and in general to achieve possession
the king made alliances with other chieftains, who willingly fought for
him and sometimes acquired control of more property.
Throughout this struggle the structure of the Commonwealth went through
radical changes. The chieftain, instead of being a representative of his
fellowman, became a warlord. The chiefdom, instead of being a form of brotherhood,
became an "armed tyranny."36 The
chiefdoms had changed and became warring states, and finally they collapsed
through infighting.
In the end it was the farmers themselves, rich and poor, who chose the
Norwegian king as their ruler. With the fall of a chieftain his chieftainship,
or rather his followers, were up for grabs. A new chieftain could not simply
overtake the chieftainship and expect the farmers to accept him. The new
chieftain had to convince the farmers that he could fulfil their demands.
In the 13th century, especially after 1240, the farmers turned down all
new chieftains except those who were the representatives of the Norwegian
king.37 The spirit in this choice is well stated
in a supposed answer of a farmer to a potential chief-ruler. A story is
told that this new warlord asked a leading farmer if he would be accepted
in the area as ruler and the farmer replied that he could only speak for
himself, and that he had no problem with his current ruler, although he
would prefer if there were none. Later after consulting with the other
farmers in the community he added that they had decided not to accept the
new ruler, that he was too warlike, not very rich and yet had plenty of
debt. He further added that the farmers wanted to wait and see what the
king's men offered.
The farmer's response can be interpreted to imply that because of the ruler's
wealth/debt ratio they could only expect to pay higher taxes to him. Further
he implies that no ruler is preferred to some ruler, but that if they do
have to have a ruler then better he live further away than nearer.38
SUMMARY
The fall of the Commonwealth can therefore be explained by the rent-seeking
that took place there. As soon as structured taxation began, replacing
the system of obligated contributions, rent-seeking took off. At first
it took place peacefully, chieftains gaining more staðir and
chiefdoms through family ties, gifts, power sharing, etc. But later it
became an armed struggle. The chieftains gained followers and raised armies
at great expense in the hope that newly acquired properties and larger
tax areas would bring in even greater revenue. In the end it was political
chaos resulting from this that made the farmer choose the king as their
ruler.39
Even though the king may not have been a better ruler than the warlords
in actuality, he was supposed to have been. The Old Covenant of 1262-4
is an explicit and detailed agreement that has clauses guaranteeing a legislature
for the commons and light taxation. The king, like the previous rulers,
did not live up to the agreement. There was actually no need for him to
do so, since all competition for the rents had been outlawed.
bibliography
chapter 7
_________________________________
1 Quoted from Ruth (1965:31).
2 Tullock's article "The Cost of Transfers" (1971) deals, as
the title suggests, with the costs to government transfers. This article
was written before the term "rent-seeking" was coined, but would
otherwise, in all likelihood, have been titled "Rent-Seeking and the
Cost of Transfers." Tullock, in his article, was pointing to the additional
costs involved in transfers; costs additional to the simple middle-man
cost. The term "cost of transfers," as used by Tullock in 1971,
is therefore as applicable to the case here, as is the term "rent-seeking."
I have chosen to adopt the latter term, instead of the former, for two
reasons: First, because it more properly emphasizes my point; the negative
social impact of the transfers and the "hidden" costs to them.
And, secondly, because I believe Tullock would insist on its use (see Tullock's
chapter on "Rent Seeking and Transfers," in Tullock 1989:73-77).
3 See Buchanan (1980a:4-5). Also Tullock (1989:55) states "My suggestion
is that we use the term 'rent seeking' (and I always have) solely for cases
in which whatever is proposed has a negative social impact."
4 A similar definition is given by Tollison (1987:145): "Perhaps the
most useful way to think about rent-seeking is in terms of using real resources
to capture a pure transfer."
5 For a good introduction to rent-seeking see Mueller (1989)
and Buchanan (1980a). Other works on rent-seeking to look at are Buchanan,
Tollison and Tullock, eds., (1980), Rowley ed., (1987) and Rowley and Tollison
eds., (1988). Some interesting applications of the rent-seeking model are:
Ekelund and Tollison (1981), and in Buchanan and Tollison (1984).
6 Tollison (1987:153) defines this second-stage as "rent-seeking
behavior" in "the competition to capture the rents that inhere
in particular instances of monopoly and regulation."
7 See for example Líndal (1964), Olgeirsson (1954), Sigurðsson
(1989), Þorsteinsson (1953;1966;1980), and Karlsson (1972;1975;1980.)
8 For an excellent historical discussion on the details of this, see Karlsson
(1975:31-49) and Stefánsson (1975:109-37).
9 For further discussion on the Tithe, its assessment, wealth accumilation,
and the consequences, see Jóhannesson (1956:202:212).
10 It is actually not all that clear whether all
the various fees (or contributions) were discontinued with the introduction
of the Tenth. It is known that various fees were collected by chieftains
and other leaders in the 12th and 13th century. See Sigurðsson (1989)
and Ingvarsson (1986:172-191).
11 Other historians support a similar view: "The
law was not a set code that everyone was expected to obey, but a group
of rules that individuals could use to their advantage or turn to the disadvantage
of others. The sagas show characters routinely breaking the law when they
thought they could get away with it, and it may well be that people acted
in precisely this way" (Byock 1988:21). And Karlsson states: "The
laws indicate that a man could plead his own case in court without the
intervention of his goði. But in practice this led to difficulties,
principally because a just cause and correct pleading in court were seldom
sufficient to secure the execution of justice. In order to carry out a
judgement a strong hand was required, and many had to turn to their goði
for this. In addition, it seems to have been far more common in the twelfth
century for quarrels to be settled by arbitration than by judgement. Arbitration
was used to stabilize peace rather than to assure that justice be done;
accordingly, the man who was more powerful came away with the better half
of the bargain. There is clear evidence that it was considered better in
dispute to have the support of powerful men than to have a just cause.
It is therefore safe to say that in general justice and security were in
the hands of the goðar." (1979:55-6)
12 Miller sums this point neatly: "Chieftaincies...were
not titheble, nor was property donated to a church, even if that church
was owned and under the sole control of the person making the contribution.
This last exemption could be used by churchowners to insulate effectively
all their property from tithes. From this exemption, coupled with the fact
that one-half of the amount collected from others went to the churchowner
for the maintenance of the church and of its indentured priest, we can
begin to discern why there is no mention in the sources of resistance to
the tithe by the rich and powerful, who in fact recognized and took advantage
of the loopholes." (1990:36)
13 The commodity nature of the chieftainship is best illustrated in that
it could be traded, given as a gift, inherited, etc. On the other hand
though, just buying the chieftainship was no guarantee of power. Every
chieftain had to be able to convince some free-farmers to follow him or
accept his leadership. In failing to gain following the chieftainship was
almost worthless.
14 As other historians have stated: "Many studies
have stressed the control of staðir as the principal source of wealth
for the stórgoðar in twelfth- and thirteenth-century Iceland.
This conclusion is sound in certain respects, but when accepted as a general
rule it becomes misleading. The tithe did not establish the goðar as
leaders. Traditions of leadership were firmly in place when in the late
eleventh century the chieftains used their lawgiving power to reap benefit
from a new form of revenue, one that also offered a nontaxable shelter
for existing wealth. On the other hand, some families, particularly the
Oddverjar and the Haukdælir in the south, profited to an inordinate
degree from the management of staðir. The increased wealth such families
derived from control of church property hastened the evolution toward increased
social complexity" (Byock 1988:94). And, Byock continues in a footnote
to this paragraph: "Björn [Þ]orsteinsson has been instrumental
in drawing attention to the importance of staðir for these chieftains
of the postconversion centuries who in modern studies are often called
church goðar (kirkjugoðar). His emphasis on class structure, however,
may be misleading... Gunnar Karlsson...notes that both stórbændr
and stórhöfðingjar owned staðir and that possession
of staðir alone did not assure the authority of a stórgoði"
(1988:note 33 p. 94). And Miller (1990:26) also supports this: "During
the turmoils of the last decade of the commonwealth, the big players in
the power politics of the period resorted to raiding. The two most lucrative
sources of wealth, in addition to the productive capabilities of their
own lands and livestock, were the gains from controlling the access of
little people to the law and their own access to tithes, which...was a
function of being a churchowner rather than a chieftain."
15 Tollison (1987:153) defines this second-stage as "rent-seeking
behavior" in "the competition to capture the rents that inhere
in particular instances of monopoly and regulation."
16 The historical facts in this paragraph and the next one are derived
largely from Sigurðsson (1989) and Karlsson (1975).
17 "In treating the relations of farmers to goðar
historians have on the whole stressed the farmer's legal freedom to choose
his own goði.... In the twelfth-century Sturlunga sagas there is one
example of a farmer who changed his goðorð of his own free will.
This shows that it was possible to exercise this right; but it is no proof
that the relationship between the goðar and thingmen was in general
a matter of the farmers' free choice. It can be assumed that hereiditary
custom often decided what goðorð a man was in. But it is also clear
that the authority of a goði was to a certain extent territorially
defined. There are, to be sure, clear examples that a goði's thingmen
did not always form a consistent district in which no one else lived, but
to a large extent the autority of the goði was restricted to one defined
area. For defense against robbers men depended on the goði who lived
in their district, whether they were his thingmen or not. There are also
examples of goðar refusing to allow other men in their district than
those they could depend on. Thus the goðar had their own areas of influence
within which everyone - both their own thingmen and those of other goðar
- had to respect their will. Under these circumstances the right to attach
one's self to another goði meant little in practice. On the other hand,
the goðar were dependent on neighbouring farmers in so far as they
needed their support in defense and in fighting. When most of the goðorð
in Iceland were assembled in the hands of a few powerful chieftains in
the beginning of the thirteenth century, it is likely that this was due
to some extent to the failure of farmers to support the less powerful goðar"
(Karlsson 1979:56).
18 "The driving-force behind this process was the
chieftains' desire for power and prestige, involving both economic and
political motives. The chieftains' economic base was of great significance
in determining subsequent developments; those who managed to control substantial
resources of wealth were able to establish a ríki. It was mostly
by means of gifts that each chieftain endeavoured to retain, and enlarge,
his group of thingmen. A gift worked a strong spell; the recipient had
either to give a gift in return, or else work for the donor. This practice
gave a wealthy chieftain the means of enlarging his group of followers.
Once the chieftain-vassal relationship had been established, the chieftain
was obliged to maintain it, either by distributing new gifts, or by holding
a feast for his followers. In the end, it was the chieftains' ability to
mobilize the economic resources and manpower of their ríki that
determined whether or not they survived the increasingly bitter and destructive
power struggle during the final period of the Free State. The chieftains'
economic power base was strenghtened by their control of the local ecclesiastical
institutions, the staðir, and the churches of the wealthy farmers.
Snorri Sturluson is a case in point: he managed to aquire several goðorð
and vast economic resources, mainly through his control of the staðir
and the churches of the wealthy farmers, and this enabled him to establish
his ríki in Borgarfjörður. Riches begot riches. The goðar
could then `buy' more farmers, which made it possible for them to expand
their economic activities, and thereby establish their standing as stórgoðar.
The concentration of power was parallelled by a corresponding concentration
of economic resources. The difference in wealth between the 12th century
goðar and the 13th century stórgoðar was huge. As an example,
the sons of a leading 12th century goði called Hvamm-Sturla all became
stórgoðar in the 13th century: Hvamm-Sturla's sons were at least
ten times wealthier than their father, with power proportional to their
wealth" (Sigurðsson 1989:141-2).
19 "The development of ríki led to the use
of new methods of government by the stórgoðar in the 13th century
(the greater chieftains), who usually took Norwegian practices as their
model. Trusted men served as their advisors, and probably also as their
representatives in the local government, while other followers acted as
bodyguards and police, capable of exerting coercion where necessary. Both
groups functioned as the extended arm of the stórgoðar. The
power base of the stórgoðar also changed when the ríki
evolved. In former times, the farmers had been relatively free to elect
a goði. Now, however, all the farmers within a ríki were, in
reality, subjected to one stórgoði as his thingmenn. That which
at an earlier stage had been essentially a leadership based upon family
and friendship, now became a territorial, political domination. At the
same time, the stórgoðar gained control over the judicial activities
in their district, and decided all the cases arising between their thingmenn.
The local and regional things declined. The stórgoðar aimed
at ever-increasing power and influence" (Sigurðsson 1989:141).
20 There is some disagreement as to how important the
institution of the Church itself was in this struggle. All the historians
admit that it did play a role, but the question is how much this role was.
Stefánsson (1975) has given it the most important status. A more
fair summary of what the facts do allow us to conclude is found in Miller:
"The history of the Icelandic church and the story of the fall of
the commonwealth are undoubtedly connected but in no certain way. Our evidence
allows us to identify other factors that contributed to the advent of Norwegian
rule, but it does not allow us to privledge any one explanation. A confluence
of factors was at work. One of the key changes in the social order during
the course of the last half of the twelfth and into the thirteenth century
was the consolidation of much official and unofficial power into fewer
and fewer hands. By the 1220s most of the goðorðs had come into
the possession of five or six families. They were able to rule territories,
effectively depriving the bændr of any legal right to choose their
Thing attachment. The process by which these families ascended and others
declined is obscure. The usual explanations link the process to the greater
accumulations of wealth made possible by access to tithes and donations
to the church." (Miller 1990:39)
21 A somewhat typical statement of this argument is made
by Gissurarson: "[T]he Icelanders were not primarily making the pact
with the Norwegian king in order to achieve domestic peace: they were trying
to avoid economic isolation. After all, this later became the fate of the
Icelandic colony in Greenland with which all contact was lost in the early
15th century," (1990:18). See also Líndal (1964).
22 Þorsteinsson (1953), although claiming this is a non-issue, confirms
that Icelandic ownership declined throughout the period. He goes a little
further, though, and claims that the Icelandic shipping fleet did not recover
until the 19th century (1953:132). See also Líndal (1964).
23 The advance in ship-building is mainly due to a changed
method of building them: "Clearly, the date and location of the change
from skin-first to skeleton-first ship construction is a major problem
in economic history. The new method would build an adequate ship at much
less expense. Wreck or destruction of a ship by pirates or in a war would
mean less loss af capital than formerly and the returns on successful trade
would be proportionally increased on the lower investment.... in the delta
of the Po a boat 10.5 meters long, built skeleton-first, has been found
and dated by pottery to the eleventh century.... at present it appears
that in the century or so before the first crusade a simplification of
the shipwright's art provided ships which were far cheaper, and therefore
presumably more numerous, than had been earlier. The ability of the crusaders
to maintain themselves for nearly two hundred years in a hostile context
so far from their home bases may partly be explained in this way."
(White 1986:288-9) See also White (1976:167) and Jones (1987).
24 That the ships were getting bigger is now well established
by archaelogical finds. In discussing the ship find at Roskilde, Hodges
says: "Wreck 1 from Roskilde was the ship of the future. This was
a heavy boat about 16.5 m long and 4.6 m in the beam, and was probably
a knarr, the kind of vessel used on the voyages to Iceland and Greenland.
It too had fore and aft half decks with a central hold that could have
accommodated nearly 30 tons, causing the ship to draw 1.5 m of water, compared
with the metre that wreck 3 would have drawn fully loaded. This load-draughted
boat required two pairs of oarsmen fore and aft, but it was primarily a
sailing boat that docked and was, we assume, seldom man-handled, unlike
those that preceded it." (1982:99) And he continues, a few paragraphs
later: "The implications of this are twofold. First, one merchant
meant as many as twenty crew members before the tenth century. Secondly,
bearing the crew in mind, cargoes must have been very limited; on the basis
of Ellmer's calculations, in the order of 8 tons or less before about A.D.
1000. Quite clearly bulky goods were out of the question." (Hodges,
1982, 100) The historian Peter Sawyer also confirms this for Scandinavia
in particular: "These heavier vessels reflect a change that apparently
occurred in Scandinavian ship design towards the end of the Viking period
when heavier, more rigid craft replaced the light, flexible boats of earlier
times. This was partly a response to changing needs, for in the eleventh
century there was a growing demand for deeper ships capable of carrying
relatively heavy loads." (1971:80) It is also possible that Iceland
enjoyed a similar experience of the Shetlanders: Boatbuilding in Shetland
seem to have started as a kind of assembly line. Norwegian boats for the
Shetland market were built with minimum of fastenings, marked, dismantled
and shipped as kits to be put together and fastened in Shetland."
(Christensen 1984:86)
25 As White claims: "Another great advance both in
safety and in profit was caused by the arrival of the magnetic compass
in Europe from China in the last decade of the twelfth century; within
a few years it was widely employed" (1976:167). And, further: "In
Europe the mariner's compass appears in Alexander Neckham's De naturis
rerum, which was in wide circulation by the end of the twelfth century,
and in Guiot de Provin's Bible composed between 1203 and 1208. By c. 1218
Jacques de Vitry considered the compass `valde necessarius...navigantibus
in mari'. By 1225 it was in common use even in Iceland." (White 1964:132)
26 Some historians use the grain example as support for the argument that
Iceland was dependent on foreign trade. They, seemingly, do not know that
what grain the Icelanders were able to produce on the island went mostly
into brewing ale, rather than for baking bread. On this and on local production
in general, see Þorsteinsson (1953;1966;1980). On the Icelander's
dietary needs in the period, see Björnsson (1975).
27 For a more thorough description of the Icelandic economy, see Jóhannesson
(1956:341-410) and Þorsteinsson (1966).
28 Quoting Gissurarson again: "[T]he Icelandic economy
could simply not withstand a great fall in the value of its exports, mainly
wool, in the 13th century.... It was only later when the Icelanders started
exporting fish that the economy became feasible." (1990:18-19)
29 It should be mentioned here that some historians have claimed that weather
conditions became unfavorable in the 12th and 14th century and this in
turn caused a downturn in the economy. Modern studies, though, indicate
that this is not correct and that the beginning of the "little ice
age" only came about later. As Stoklund says: "A fall in the
average temperature can be traced from about 1300." (1984:97) The
following table from Hastrup (1985:161) comes to the same conclusion: Climatological
Periods: 1. 800-900 Generally dry and warm summers. Eastern winds dominated
over the North Atlantic. 2. 900-1050 Relatively wet and cold summers. 3.
1050-1130 This period was much like the first. 4. 1130-1160 Like the second
period, only worse. 5. 1160-1230 Of the same kind as the first period,
but not quite so advantageous. 6. 1230-1270 Like the second period, only
considerably worse. 7. 1270-1330 Slight improvement in climate, but increasing
frequency of north-westerly winds. A period of general instability. 8.
1330- Gradual worsening of conditions, leading to the `Little Ice Age'
(1600-1800).
30 Both the Alþing and some local þings occasionally
did announce price lists of some goods, but whether they were ever abided
by is not known. Chieftains seemingly had the authority to set prices also,
i.e. price-controls, but Karlsson, at least has disputed that they ever
used those powers to any degree: "Ekki verður heldur mikið
vart við afskipti goða af verslun og kaupmönnum í frásögnum
frá 12. öld." (Karlsson 1979:10-11). And he continues:
"Árið 1215 lögðu" þrír goðar
"lag á varning norskra kaupmanna, og virðist þá
hafa verið óvenjulegt, að íslenskir höfðingjar
gerðu það." (Karlsson 1979:11)
31 We do know that Norway invaded the English market with great success,
as Gelsinger says: "Because of its urban development during the eleventh
century and later, England had a large market for dried fish that Norway
could offer in return for grain and other supplies it needed" (1981:166).
At another place he says: "After the beginning of the eleventh century
England provided a substansial market for Norway's dried fish and other
products in return for grain, fine cloth, and other goods." (1981:157)
See also Þorsteinsson (1953:136).
32 The law was changed again in the late 13th century, after the fall of
the Commonwealth, and the fishing industry "took-off" from that
point on. On the development of the fishing industry in general see Þorsteinsson
(1953;1966:1980).
33 Þorsteinsson argues that the fact of organized
taxation and its expenditure are supportive of his contention that economic
conditions had become better. Even so it would seem that continued taxation
need not be supportive of continued "prosperity", in fact taxation
might have continued in spite of an economic decline. But economic decline
by itself is a doubtful cause for the fall of the commonwealth.
34 There is seemingly no evidence of "better times" in Iceland's
economy after the agreement with Norway. Only in the 14th century do we
(think we) know of better times, after the exporting of fish products increased
drastically. The 1301 count of tax-farmers shows lower numbers than in
1097, and it seems therefore that there were fewer people in Iceland in
1300 than in 1100. The question is whether there was a linear decline in
population in those 200 years, whether population had increased again by
1300, or whether the population had actually stayed the same but that the
number of tax-paying farmer had declined?
35 See Jóhannesson 1958:205-225.
36 Or as Miller says: "Feud between big families
started to take on the characteristics of war, the chief costs of which
were not born by the principals but by the people who lived in the territories
they controlled. We see the powerful and pretenders to power provisioning
themselves by plundering the people they sought to rule." (1990:40)
37 "Thus, by about 1250, the king had managed to aquire control over
almost all of the goðorð in Vestfirðingafjórðungur,
Sunnlendingafjórðungur and Norðlendingafjórðungur;
the goðorð in Austfirðingafjórðungur were aquired
in 1264. With establishment of control over the goðorð, the king
could appoint their governors, and in fact became the farmers's overlord"
(Sigurðsson 1989:140-1).
38 Karlsson claims that the wealthier farmers in effect
replaced the chieftains and took over their functions: "Á síðasta
skeiði þjóðveldisins verður gagnger breyting....
Goðorðsmönnum fækkar, og þeir verða víða
óstöðugir í sessi vegna innbyrðis átaka
og áhrifa norska konungsvaldsins. Um leið eflist sá hluti
bændastéttarinnarm, sem getur aflað sér tekna af
umráðum kirkjueigna. Þessi hópur bænda, sem
líklega hefur tekið við hlutverki goða í heimabyggðum
og staðið í svipuðum tengslum við bændur og
goðarnir höfðu áður gert. Það er þessi
hópur forystumanna bænda, sem kemur fram fyrir þeirra
hönd gagnvart stórhöfðingjum Sturlungaaldar og heldur
því stundum fram, að best sé að hafa enga höfðingja."
(1979:49) A more detailed statement by Karlsson goes: "In the thirteenth
century there are a few examples of farmers being strongly independent
of goðar. In general the goðar did not take power without first
assuring themselves of the approval of the farmers in the district, and
at times the farmers hint that it is best to have no goði. This has
been interpreted as remnant of the old freedom of farmers, and it has been
concluded that this freedom was greater before the great chieftains and
large-scale wars of the thirteenth century. But closer consideration reveals
that it was especially the so-called big farmers or, `best men' whom the
chieftains turned to for support, and that the smaller farmers followed
the bigger ones. It is likely that these big farmers assumed the leadership
over other farmers when the goðar became fewer in the thirteenth century
and their personal contact with the individual farmers diminished. The
big farmers then took the place of the goðar to some extent. The goðar
could be more harmful than useful, for they were often at war and the farmers
often had to support them with certain expenditures. The big farmers, on
the other hand, seem to have been wealthy men who lived on prosperous church
farms and made a profit by managing the church's property. Some of these
men figured in the struggle for power between the goðar families, and
one of the Sturlunga sagas, Svínfellinga saga, tells of a prosperous
church farmer who killed his goði" (1979:57).
39 It has often been suggested by some historians that
the various kings in Norway always wanted to gain hold of Iceland, but
that for some reason never managed to achieve their goal. Icelandic historians,
earlier ones especially, tended to claim that it was patriotism on the
part of the Icelanders that prevented the kings from this. But then in
the 13th century the chieftains committed treason and abandoned patriotism
in favor of Royal privlidges. Their explanation is, of course, not convincing
and has therefore been rejected by modern historians (See Líndal
1964). But the claim concerning the kings' goal may still be salvaged though.
If, as claimed, the kings wanted to gain Iceland as part of their kingdom,
then the progress in technology was surely on their side in the longer-run.
The kings may simply not have been able to achieve their goal in the 11th
and 12th centuries because of transportation and communication difficulties.
By the 13th century, however, technology, especially in shipping, had advanced
so much that the goal became achievable. This advance in technology gives
the kings' intentions, at least, some plausibility.
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