With those words, spoken at the Althing by Thorgeir Goði in the year 1000 of the Common Era, Iceland became Christian. Iceland is singular not only in being the first post-Classical republic in Europe, but also in the rapidity of its shift from heathenism to Christianity, becoming Christian on the word of a heathen, only a few scant years after conversion had begun in earnest. This happened because of the unique character of Icelandic society and the devotion of the Icelandic people to their law.

Of course, to understand the whys of an event, one must first understand the hows. As such, before turning to the events of the Althing of 1000 CE, a brief history of Iceland follows, with an emphasis on the legal development of the Icelandic republic. Then, the focus turns to the Althing itself, including the implications of a fracturing of the Law, followed by a discussion of how Christianity came to Iceland, the reasons that Thorgeir Goði might have made the choice he did, and why a closely divided populace would have abided by such a contentious decision.

The Settlement of Iceland

Norway in the late ninth century was far from a unified nation-state, but was rather a series of small kingdoms and chieftaincies, held together by the mutual interests of those who held oðal lands in the area. Norway was very unstable, however, and many Danish colonies were on the Norwegian coast. When Harald Fairhair came north from his center of power in Vestfold (near Oslo), he took from many of his enemies their oðal rights, forcing them either into tenancy or migration.

The original settlers of Iceland came from the western coast of Norway, though whether they were native to that area is a question of some significance. If they were Norwegians, then their decisions to break away from Harald Fairhair is one of convenience, but Guthmundsson makes an interesting case for them having been Danes, settled in Norway. Many concepts that were prevalent in Norway, such as oðal lands, are largely missing from Iceland, while those that bear a Danish stamp, such as the term "goðar", are present. Also, while Norwegians commonly cremated their dead, while the Danes buried their dead in mounds. No Viking-age burials in either Iceland or Denmark show signs of cremation, adding to the Danish origin theory. That the settlers were Danish, rather than Norwegians, provided them with additional impetus to form their own government, separate from the one rule of Harald Fairhair, who supposedly sponsored their colonization, and many would have viewed as an oppressor for usurpation of their lands.

When the first settlers came to Iceland, they initially took huge tracts of land, far more than they needed, sometimes even claiming entire fjords. When the second wave of settlers arrived, however, disputes rose over how best to divide the land, with the latecomers claiming that those who had come before had taken too much. One version of the Landnámabók has it that Harald Fairhair was asked to mediate a solution, which resulted in the reduction of many early properties to accommodate more settlers. As more and more people came to Iceland, it became clear that asking the Norwegian King to mediate their disputes was as impractical as it was undesirable, and thus the institutions of the goðar, regional þings, and the Althing were established within sixty years of settlement.

Goðar, Regional Ðings, and the Althing

While Icelandic law held all men were equal before it, it can be safely be said that some men were more equal than others. These men were the goðar. Goðar were required to hold the local þings in May (várðing) and August (leið) at the predetermined place for their district. They each chose twelve judges who sat at the várðing, but were otherwise free to use their considerable influence in litigation and various out of court maneuverings. The leið was of lesser importance, and served mainly to report on the Althing to those who had not attended, and to announce new laws.

The office of goði was both a form of power and one of property; one could loan, sell, or divide a goðorð to any other qualified man. While the traditional number is thirty-six goðar, it is uncertain whether or not this was the initial number of goðorð. Initially, men in Iceland were merely required to form a relationship of mutual support with one of the goðar. In 960 CE, the Althing divided Iceland into four quarters, which were further divided into three assembly districts (except for the northern quarter, which had four because of geographical considerations). Each assembly district had three goðar, and landholders were now required to select a chieftain from within their own quarter for their alliance. Because of the imbalance created at the Althing by the northern quarter having twelve goðar to the other regions' nine, the southern, eastern, and western districts were each granted an additional three goðar. These additional goðar sat in the Althing during legislative debate, but had no exceptional status with the quarter courts or local assemblies.

Between the várðing in May and the leið in August was the Althing, which all goðar were required to attend (if two men shared the goðorð, only one would act as goði for the Althing). It lasted for two weeks in June, during a period of uninterrupted daylight and usually mild weather. The Althing was held in the southwest, on the Thingvöllr by the Öxará. It was analogous to a continental lord's fair, combining judicial, legislative, economic, and social functions into one event.

During the Althing, all of the goðar would attend the law council, or lögrétta, and could bring up to two advisers. In addition, the lögrétta was chaired by a lawspeaker, or lögsögumaðr, who the goðar elected to a three-year term. He recited one-third of the laws from memory while standing at the Law Rock (lögberg) at every Althing over which he presided. Each goði, or two stand-ins, was required to attend, and others were allowed to do so, offering corrections should the lögsögumaðr miss something. In that event, the lögsögumaðr was required to consult with no less than 5 legal experts (lögmenn), who were likely former or hopeful lögsögumaðr themselves.

At the lögrétta, old laws were reviewed and new ones proposed, exemptions from the law were considered, and treaties with foreign nations were debated by the goðar, their advisors, and the on-lookers. Only goðar, however, had any actual vote in the matters before the lögrétta; advisors and other attendees were not active participants in the passing or revoking of laws, or the ratification of treaties. In 1056 and 1106, after our period, the Icelandic bishops were also given seats and votes in the lögrétta, though they were not allowed to have advisors.

Judicially, the Althing originally had very little in the way of purpose; its function was purely legislative. However, the reforms of the 960's introduced quarter-courts (fjórðungsdómar, plural; fjórðungsdómr, singular) to the Althing. These were designed to arbitrate decisions between men from different várðing districts, as neither would expect a fair trial in another man's home territory. One could also begin a suit in the fjórðungsdómar, or a suit deadlocked in the várðing could be referred to the fjórðungsdómr for a decision. The goðar holding one of the thirty-six original goðorð would nominate judges from their districts, who were then assigned by lot to the various fjórðungsdómar. These judges were required to be free men who were at least twelve years old, with a fixed place of residence and responsible for themselves and their oaths.

For all the legislative and judicial complexity of the Icelandic republic, there was no executive power in place, nor any compulsion to make use of the judicial system. Executive power rested solely with the people; a judicial decision that one and one's allies could not enforce was little more than a moral victory, and perhaps grounds for a charge of outlawry, which would at least give the wronged the legal right to kill the offender and seize his property. Judicially, one also had the option of arbitration, allowing the other party to dictate the terms of a settlement, hólmganga, einvígi, or even blood feud to achieve satisfaction. Furthermore, the legal system was far more complex than can be summarized here, with restrictions on to which court a case must be brought, the proper informing of witnesses, and so on, ad nausem.

Without a recognized executive force, and with legal technicalities ending many suits unsatisfactorily, the balance of power of Iceland was very delicate. If the people did not uphold the law themselves, Iceland would have been embroiled in constant blood-feuds and almost total civil war as disputes boiled out of control. Thus, the threat of a large number of Icelanders to cease participating the legal process was a very real and dangerous threat; it would destroy the country completely. Thorgeir Goði stepped onto this delicate balance when he made the declaration in favor of Christianity.

Christianity in Iceland

Iceland was not, in its early stages, a stranger to Christianity. Irish monks first settled the land around 790 CE, though referring to their actions as settlement is a bit of a misnomer; the men who lived upon Iceland were anchorites, living in seclusion from the rest of the world, and that northern land would have seemed ideal. However, the Nordic settlements, which began circa 870 CE, drove them out of Iceland, but also brought a new crop of Christians to the land.

Several early settlers of Iceland are noted as being at least nominally Christian, though they were outnumbered by heathens. Of special note are the semi-legendary Aud the Deep-minded, who had Christian crosses set up at Krossholar, and Helgi the Lean, who "believed in Christ, yet made vows to Thor for sea-voyages and in tight corners, and for everything which struck him as of real importance." Equally, however, there were men such as Thorolf Mostrarskegg who made Helgafell on the southern shore of Breidafjord a greatly hallowed spot amongst the heathens. By and large, though, heathen and Christian lived well together, and Christianity rarely lasted in a family more than a generation.

The quickening push of Iceland towards Christianity was provided by Thangbrand, a German missionary in service of Olaf Tryggvason. Olaf had sent a previous missionary, Stefni Thorgilsson, whose violence in throwing down the temples of the heathens had led to him being expelled from Iceland and resulted in a law being passed against blaspheming the Gods or defiling a temple. Olaf, apparently trying to get the people of Iceland gradually used to the idea that not all Christians were disruptive to their way of life, then sent in a man who was only slightly less vile in his methods: Thangbrand the German.

Thangbrand was the son of a German count, but he had to flee Germany because of a murder he committed. He met Olaf in England, and became his chaplain. He likely would have stayed with Olaf, but his violent temper and viciousness made him unsuited to be a parish priest, even under someone like Tryggvason. He was called before Tryggvason for squandering the income of his parish and making up the shortfalls by viking, and sent to Iceland in 997 CE as a missionary rather than receiving full banishment. In Iceland, he made a few converts, but also committed several other killings, including two in hólmganga, one man who led a force of warriors against him from ambush, and one poet who dared to compose satirical verses about him. He preached at the Althing of 998 CE, and was banished from Iceland for it, and only escaped the relatives of those he had slain through the intervention of Njal of Bergthorshvall and others he had converted. He spent the winter with several influential goðar and farmers, and finally left Iceland in the summer of 999 CE, before the Althing.

That Thangbrand had not converted Iceland made Tryggvason quite angry, so he imprisoned the kinsmen of many Icelanders. At the promise of two Icelandic Christians, one of them the respected goði Gizur the White, to go to Iceland and preach Christianity, he freed the hostages, amongst whom were both heathens and Christians. Thus a force of some thirty Icelandic Christians went to the Althing, with the intent of making Iceland Christian. They arrived in a column, and saw that the heathens had also marshaled their forces. Both groups went to the Law Rock, named witnesses, and renounced their community of laws, saying that they could not live under the Law with those of the other faith. The Christians chose Hall of Sida as their lögsögumaðr, telling him to declare what the Law should be for Christians. Hall, however, went to Thorgeir Goði, and paid him to make the judgement. As Njal's Saga says, "It was taking a risk, for Thorgeir was a heathen."

Thorgeir lay the whole day with a cloak over his head. One can see this act to have two possible implications. First of all, one may view it from a strictly practical point of view: Iceland in June is constantly bright. Covering his head with a cloak would have allowed him to sleep, or at least give that appearance to aid in receiving quiet for contemplation. However, DuChaillu mentions that heathens place great store in dreams, seeing many of them as revelations from the Gods. Though many of the duties of the goðar were secular, they were still considered priests, and were responsible for hallowing the Althing. Thorgeir would have been odd indeed if he was not familiar with the importance of dreams, and as he was a heathen, it is likely that he lay with the cloak in order to dream, so that the Gods might give him advice.

Njal's Saga continues:

Why? This was surely the question that haunted those who were still in their hearts heathen as they returned home from the Althing of 1000 CE. What conclusions they drew, we do not know, but several theories come forward with the perspective of one thousand additional years.

First of all, one must consider that Thorgeir may have been acting to protect his people from both civil and external war. Olaf Tryggvason had already made clear through his choice in missionaries and imprisonment of the Icelanders in Norway that he would see Iceland Christian by its own choice, or force it upon them. Furthermore, dissolution of the community of law would have led to civil war, since neither Christian or Heathen would have a choice but to stop participating in the process should one religion become dominant without becoming law. The regional þings and the Althing were both hallowed to the Gods before business was conducted. This would violate the new-found beliefs of the Christians, and a Christian hallowing, with its denial of their own Gods, would not suit the heathens. Large portions of the country would not participate in the þings should either religion be the only one honored, and they could not be hallowed to both without betraying the theology of the Christians (who had left behind Helgi the Lean's opportunistic pantheism). With the broad-sword rattling of Olaf Tryggvason, and the possibility of an overwhelmingly Christian Europe behind him, declaring for Christianity made peaceful the transition that would have happened at the sword, otherwise.

Secondly, sacrificing to the Old Gods was not forbidden by Thorgeir's pronouncement. In this fashion, he may have been attempting to keep the peace by playing on the more religiously open tendencies of his heathen brethren. As Helgi the Lean exemplifies, the heathens saw little wrong with simply adding the God of the Christians to their existing pantheon. Christians, however, would not accept the reverse. Thus, by keeping private practice legal, he relied on the heathens to keep their old faith beneath the gaze of Christianity, and yet keep the peace with the Christians. His will was subverted after his tenure, however. Soon after he ascended the throne in 1016, Olaf Haraldsson of Norway convinced the lögsögumaðr Skapti Thorodsson to remove the provisions that allowed for heathenism to continue in secret.

Some will no doubt claim that Thorgeir was converted during his day of meditation, despite Njal's Saga's statement that none spoke to him during that day. However, to consider that possibility, one also leaves open a large number of alternate explanations of supernatural influence, such as the coming of Christianity being a fulfillment of Ragnarok prophecies, Odin having given him a vision instructing what to do, and so on. While such an explanation is somewhat tempting, and would no doubt serve the proponents' own religious views, unless someone can present a document that is indisputably Thorgeir Goði's personal journal, such theories cannot be the purview of historians in their role as historians. They are only mentioned here to forestall another person from supplying them.

In the end, however, there must be a realization that none today can know the reason why Thorgeir made the selection that he did. However, the evidence of the previous pages serves to show that the fragile peace of Icelandic society was only maintained by the people's mutual adherence to the Law. With no executive branch to enforce adherence, social pressures within the society served to uphold the Law, and thus the peace of a nation. When faced with pressure from the outside, a true leader from within the people took a drastic action that served to uphold the peace and maintain the life and freedom of his people as long as possible.

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But the good name never dies
Of one who has done well