From: The Encyclopedia of Canada's Peoples/Icelanders/Anne Brydon
The social and geographical separateness of the prairies has shaped Icelandic-Canadian ethnicity. When the area is compared to the more populous regions of the country, such factors as a larger proportion of rural inhabitants, less in-migration, and a stable or declining population have meant that Icelandic Canadians have not needed to adjust to rapid social change. In particular, the Interlake region’s comparative isolation allowed the language and customs to be preserved longer there than in other, more dispersed settlements. These conditions have enforced a feeling of continuity, but the lack of new immigrants from Iceland has contributed to a growing sense of anachronism among many members of the fourth and fifth generations. Given the easy assimilation of Icelanders into English-speaking society, each generation has been marked by a considerable loss of interest in the Icelandic heritage and organizations. Such decline concerns members of these associations, but it has proven difficult to generate a sense of relevance among the young people.
Although it is impossible to specify an exact moment when the circumstances changed, the continuance of a self-defining community has increasingly depended on formal institutions since the 1960s. Women now far outnumber men in the Icelandic National League, though men generally continue to wield the power in revenue-generating enterprises such as the Icelandic Festival and the Lögberg-Heimskringla newspaper, and women serve in more custodial roles. Exceptions exist; for example, the Icelandic Festival appointed its first woman president, Lorna Tergeson, in 1988, and Evelyn Thorvaldson has served as president of the INL.
In recent years, but with less consistency, federal and provincial funds have assisted communication between Icelandic-Canadian groups across Canada. The department of the secretary of state for multiculturalism has subsidized transportation costs, enabling delegates to travel to annual INL meetings. This support has been helpful, but the themes that the department recommends for meetings are not necessarily relevant to an established, well-integrated ethnic group such as the Icelanders, who do not face racism or other social stigmatization. Further, the granting and taxation regulations limit access to funds needed to maintain existing institutions. For example, the INL cannot obtain charitable-foundation status and provide income tax credits to donors since the organization does more than disperse funds.
For Icelandic Canadians, language no longer plays a role in maintaining group boundaries, although it retains powerful symbolic meaning for group identification in Canada. There are several reasons for this decline. First, nineteenth-century community leaders encouraged immigrants to learn English in order to adapt to the new country. Secondly, as happened with many ethnic groups who arrived at the turn of the century, many parents either refused to teach their children Icelandic or their children would not learn it, for fear of appearing different and un-Canadian. Finally, with diminished connections to Iceland, members of the community in Canada have lost an important reason for continuing to speak and read the language.
Earlier in this century, connections between members of the community in Canada and Iceland were more direct. Some individuals retained economic and political ties to the homeland. The career of Ásmundur P. Jóhannson, who made his wealth as a contractor in Winnipeg and visited Iceland in 1913, provides an interesting example. Both his sympathies for the independence movement and his nose for a profit were evident in his attempts to found an Icelandic steamship company. After returning to Canada later the same year, he travelled with three other contractors to rural Icelandic communities in order to raise capital. The beginning of World War I ended the project, and his focus shifted closer to home. Beyond any financial interests, Ásmundur felt duty-bound to his homeland and compelled to support Icelandic culture in Canada. He contributed to the founding of the INL, donated the funds to enable the First Lutheran Church to buy a building, and served on the committee representing Iceland at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1940. As well, he kept both Lögberg and Heimskringla newspapers afloat and he participated in the temperance movement. Finally, he donated $50,000 to his pet project, a chair in Icelandic studies, and attempted to encourage other wealthy Icelanders to follow suit.
Kinship and marriage play a role in the maintenance of ethnic commitment, since the children of those active in organizations tend to become members themselves. Endogamy has declined considerably in the post-war period, but it persists in rural areas, where the geographical proximity of other Icelandic Canadians increases the likelihood of intramarriage. But injunctions against marrying outside the group are rare and may consist only in gentle suggestions that Icelandic men and women are better looking and more educated or cultured. Peer pressure is difficult to evaluate and is not likely a significant factor in the maintenance of community loyalty. But the Lutheran and Unitarian churches still retain ethnic affiliations and loyalties. Icelandic Canadians were among the first to provide subsidized housing for the elderly in Canada, and retirement and nursing homes such as Betel Homes in Gimli, Selkirk, and Winnipeg in Manitoba and Höfn in British Columbia, in addition to providing services for the elderly, also create focal points for fund-raising and local celebrations that attract younger family and community members.
During the tenure by Haraldur Bessason of the Icelandic chair, the University of Manitoba served an important role in promoting linkages between Icelandic and Canadian scholars. Graduate students from the homeland, although not numerous, enlivened campus social life for their Canadian counterparts. A series of visiting speakers continues to attract scholarly and community attention. However, a recent decline in enrolment poses a serious problem for the future of the Icelandic program. Despite a fund-raising campaign, economic uncertainties and university restructuring threaten its existence in its present form, and while the chair will survive, the related department could be merged with those devoted to other modern languages. The challenge for the present incumbent is to rebuild community involvement in the program in order to boost the level of financial support.
The teaching of Icelandic in the Winnipeg and Interlake high school systems is another strategy to encourage survival of the language in Canada. After approval from the Manitoba department of education, as of the mid-1990s small classes of grades ten and eleven were being taught, and grade twelve was in development. As well, the Icelandic government annually offers two scholarships to enable North American students to study at the University of Iceland. Although they are open to applicants of any ethnic background, the fund has been particularly useful in fostering knowledge of Icelandic language and culture among members of the community in Canada.
The Icelandic Language and Cultural Camp, established in 1974, also promotes awareness of the Icelandic heritage. Its founders, Gunnvör Ásmundsson, Kristine Perlmutter, Elva Simundsson, and Lorna Tergesen, have provided continuity and support throughout its history. As well as studying the language, campers learn about Icelandic and Icelandic-Canadian culture and history, folk stories, and folk songs. Located near Gimli, Manitoba, the camp provides an opportunity for children from across North America to meet and form lifelong bonds.
Other contacts between Icelandic Canadians and the homeland contribute to the maintenance of ethnic identity, although these are increasingly formalized. Each year organizers of the Icelandic Festival invite a dignitary from Iceland to address the festival audience during the traditional Monday afternoon program. Another means of communication, an Icelandair charter flight, has operated between Winnipeg and Reykjavík each summer since 1975, and flights from other centres have also been launched.
Icelandic Canadians are not the only initiators of communication between the two countries. The Ministry for Foreign Affairs in Iceland has embarked on a project to compile a registry of individuals of Icelandic descent living outside the country. As of 1996, this scheme was in the beginning stages; whether it will grant to individuals such rights as work permits and medical insurance while they are in Iceland remains uncertain. The opening of Icelandic money markets to greater foreign investment may be one motive, beyond the cultural ones, for such a registry. The creation of directories listing individuals of Icelandic descent has also been a project of several chapters of the INL. The Toronto chapter has been particularly successful, through a labour-intensive telephone campaign, in finding such individuals living in Ontario.
Any discussion of the ethnic commitment of individuals can only be general. Interest may change throughout a lifetime, and a sense of duty to community institutions may not indicate a deep commitment to or sense of Icelandic-Canadian identity. Volunteering for the Icelandic Festival, for example, may be as much about loyalty to the town of Gimli as to one’s ethnic origins. The reverse may be true as well: some cherish their heritage yet avoid community activities. The most recognizable change in patterns of commitment over time has been towards a more voluntary, rather than a socialized, membership. For some, involvement begins when their children have reached adolescence and financial security has been assured. An emphasis on multiculturalism in Canada since the 1960s has also prompted an increased interest in Icelandic-Canadian culture. The future for ethnic identity lies in those efforts that strive to create new connections to Iceland and a sense of personal and cultural relevance among the younger generations.
