Gnarr (8 page)

There was silence. On the faces of the students, disappointment spread. The other candidates exchanged meaningful glances and concealed their satisfaction with difficulty.

“Joke!”

Then laughter broke out.

I explained in several ensuing interviews that it was high time that artists in Reykjavík took over the helm. Very few people were of the opinion that artists had any place at all in politics. But I hastened to point out to them that Iceland was known around the world for its art. It was our writers and artists in particular who ensured we had fame and reputation abroad, so it was high time to let Icelandic artists finally get the recognition they deserved.

The result was unambiguous. In the 2010 city council elections, the Best Party won 34.7 percent of the vote. The Independence Party, the old established Right, got 33.6 percent, the social democratic Samfylkingin 19.1 percent, and the Left-Green Alliance 7.1 percent.

The rest had fallen at the 5 percent hurdle.

I broke out in a sweat.

Later that evening, at our victory party, we sat around a kitchen table and discussed the results. The air crackled with tension, and we giggled nervously. What were the other parties going to do now? Would the Social Democrats team up with the Independents to form a working majority (and ignore the fact that this coalition had been in power in 2008 and was thus jointly responsible for the crisis)? Would their common aversion to us be a sufficient basis for political cooperation? What kind of a party were we after all? Who would we want to work together with? Not with those on the Right, we were unanimous about that. Of all the parties they were the rottenest. But what annoyed us even more was that they obviously had no respect for us. Whenever we had to deal with them, they made
us feel their contempt and condescension. That said, I did think briefly about what it would be like to form a coalition with them:

“This party chairman, Hanna Birna, she’s all right apparently, okay?” I said, thinking aloud. “What do you think?”

“Well, she’s not exactly evil, but she is extremely superficial,” someone said. “You know the interview in which she explains why the majority has fallen for her party?”

No, I hadn’t come across it.

“She more or less says, ‘What a pity, it would have been so easy to find a consensus.’ Meaning, of course: if everyone else had done what
she
wanted. And I also very much doubt that Hanna Birna would ever voluntarily relinquish the mayor’s office for you. You can forget all about that.”

“But do I have any other choice—apart from becoming mayor, I mean? Isn’t that what people want?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what people want. The people voted for us because they want Jón Gnarr as mayor.”

“So the Independents are out of the picture right from the start?”

Heiða nodded. “They think you’re a total idiot. And we’re not working with people who look down on us.”

“Look down?”

“Yes. You know what they call you inside the party, right?”

I’d never given the matter any thought.

“They call you ‘the Clown.’ ”

“Aha. And what about the Social Democrats? This Dagur Eggertsson? I don’t know what to think of him, either. But I don’t know him. Is he okay?”

Óttarr knew Dagur a bit better. “Dagur’s a great guy,” he said.

“But isn’t he a bit … well … strange?” I asked. “For me, he was always one of those politicians who I can never make out. He speaks without commas, as if trying to set a world record, and it’s as clear as mud to me. He just doesn’t listen.”

“Dagur definitely has his strengths and weaknesses,” someone said. “But overall, the Social Democrats have a lot of capable people. Of course they also have cross-links to the leftist intellectuals.”

“But by and large they respect us, I mean, more than the others, anyway.”

“Yes, yes,” someone said. “But only because they’re afraid of us. We draw the most votes away from them. They’re trembling with respect, so to speak.”

General laughter.

“At least they seem to be not quite as puffed-up as the rest,” someone said. “After all, they’ve already tried to contact us.”

“And they could come to terms with me as mayor if the circumstances were right?” I asked.

“We still need to find that out.”

“Okay, and how do you do that? Should I perhaps
call Dagur? Heiða, you’re our political expert, you know about this kind of stuff.”

“No,” Heiða said. “Let’s keep playing it nice and cool. Now it’s the big guessing game, who’s getting it together with who, and so on—and the media are guaranteed to get involved big time.”

“It’s a surreal situation, of course,” Björn pointed out. “There’s never been anything like this before. Not here in Iceland, and as far as I know nowhere else in the world.”

“It’s logical enough,” I said. “Until now, there wasn’t any Best Party either. Maybe a Most Acceptable Party, or an It’ll-Have-To-Do Party.” Laughter. “So, how do we proceed?”

“You stay in the background and keep schtum. You don’t make any statements, not when any people from the press call, and not on Facebook either.”

“But I could at least post that I
won’t
be commenting in the Icelandic media, because they’re all just willing henchmen of the whole political clique?”

Heiða and Björn shook their heads. “No, just don’t. We shouldn’t rouse the others against us more than necessary. They’re all pretty much against us already so we don’t need to provoke them any further. You just don’t reply.”

Then we decided that Óttarr and Sjón would represent the party in the coalition negotiations.

“And if the Independents get together with the Social Democrats?” I interrupted. “After all, there’s
something of a political emergency on. And we know what their club is like. If it comes to the crunch, they’ll pull themselves together and wriggle out somehow.”

“They won’t risk it,” Sjón remarked.

On the following days, exploratory talks were scheduled. Heiða, Björn, Óttarr, and Sjón met successively with representatives of the other parties. Otherwise, we sat around in the home of one of our members, drank coffee, and talked shop. The Leftists could obviously contemplate a coalition with us, and the Independents had already come knocking. They suddenly started behaving as if they thought we were an amazingly smart and alert bunch. We found this incredibly funny.

“Sjón and Óttarr had a conversation with Dagur earlier today,” Heiða announced.

“Has he seen
The Wire
?” I asked.

“We did briefly mention it,” Óttarr said. “No, he’s never seen it. And he wanted to know if we would make that a precondition for cooperation.”

“He must watch
The Wire
,” I insisted. “What am I supposed to talk to him about otherwise—socialism?”

Gradually things took shape. The first meeting with the Social Democrats took place in an old factory building down at the harbor. For Samfylkingin, labor and education policy were top priority issues. We wanted most of all to make Reykjavík more human, more welcoming, and more modern. I want Reykjavík to be the hippest, coolest city in the world, and it must
have more trees. In terms of citizen welfare and social security, we were largely in line. We wanted to advocate a minimum social standard, a statutory basic protection for the homeless and socially disadvantaged. In general, it was high time we paid more attention to the outsiders and disadvantaged. Too little is still being done for the underdogs at the bottom of the social ladder. I was one of those all my life.

The media indulged in avid speculation as to how things would pan out. But we kept quiet. In the roundtable discussions, the political experts provided in-depth analyses, declared the election of the Best Party to be a grotesque mistake, and said that I had no chance as mayor anyway. When the result of the negotiations finally became clear, I met Dagur for the first time in person. It was obvious that he would be taking a big risk if he formed a coalition with the Best Party. To some of his colleagues, this bordered on political suicide. That’s why I decided to pay special attention to honesty and transparency in this conversation. I simply put my cards on the table.

“I want to do this job really well,” I said. “I want to achieve something that benefits the city and its residents. Believe me, it’s perfectly clear what’s in store for us. But I guarantee I won’t just drop everything and jump ship. Because I believe that, together, we can get some pretty cool stuff up and running. Still, I’d like you to be familiar with
The Wire
.”

“No problem,” Dagur said. “Where can I find this series?”

“I guess it’s out on DVD by now. Or on iTunes. Oh, and I’ll be mayor. That okay with you?”

“Sure.”

A press conference was scheduled to announce that the formation of a coalition was now complete. But where would this press conference be held? The council usually gave press conferences in the Nordic House. Dagur suggested moving the meeting to Breiðholt, a densely populated, low-wage problem area of Reykjavík with a big immigrant population. I thought that was pretty cool. The Breiðholt Coalition.

“My brother lives there, in the largest residential block in the whole district,” I said. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s actually the janitor. How would it be if we held the meeting with him on the roof?”

I called my brother.

“Hello. Can we hold a press conference on the roof at your place?”

“Sure thing. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Do we need approval or anything?”

“No idea.”

“Aren’t you the janitor on the block?”

He wasn’t the janitor. But he did have the key to the attic, so that was sorted.

At the press conference we announced the outcome of our discussions. I’d become mayor of Reykjavík,
and Heiða would be my closest colleague and political consultant.

“And how will you tackle the job of being mayor?” the journalists wanted to know.

“I’m going to try and get my stuff set out neatly, and otherwise just be nice.”

“Do you really think you can cope with the job?”

“Being mayor? Yes, I can cope. It can’t be all that hard. It’s a pretty relaxed job where you comfortably sit at a desk most of the time, isn’t it? I’ve done all sorts of lousy dirty jobs in my time. I’m really not spoiled. I was a taxi driver in Reykjavík and actually got lost downtown. Didn’t know any of the street names. But I got down to it. Brooded over the map and learned everything by heart, and eventually I was a really good taxi driver. And always polite, too. I held the car door open for ladies, and none of my passengers ever complained about me.”

“What’s the first thing you’ll tackle?”

“I’m going to make sure that Reykjavík is hip and cool.”

“And what is hip and cool?”

“Er … roughly the opposite of stupid and narrow-minded.”

“And that request for a polar bear for the zoo?”

“First we have to make it council policy that no more polar bears get shot.”

Jón Gnarr described the self-image of the Best Party on the party’s website in January 2010
.

The following “rules of moral behavior” apply to city officials and fellow workers in the Best Party, as well as all those who represent us in committees and panels. They also apply to individuals who represent the party in public, in the media, on the Internet, or using other, similar technologies, including those that have yet to be invented. With their signatures, all party members agree to these rules and are committed to them. Any violator of the rules incurs criminal penalties and will be prosecuted. Only in this way can the conscientious observance of the rules be achieved.

Anyone who is suspected of violating the rules must temporarily relinquish office while relevant officials investigate the matter. If the suspicion is confirmed, the person in question will immediately be suspended from party membership and must surrender his or her party card as well as all articles that bear the logo of the Best Party, such as T-shirts, buttons, and pens. Also, all relevant information, photos, and text materials will be deleted from the archives of the Best Party.

Finally, the expelled member must make a personal apology by asking for the forgiveness of party members in writing, thus showing remorse and expressing the desire for reparation. This apology should include an expression of regret at causing damage to our party and its image, as well as the hope that the voters will not condemn the party as a whole, but recognize the violation as the mistake of one individual. Finally, the document is to end with some warm words about the party and its wonderful members, and then be published in easily accessible places in the main analog and digital media.

The rules in detail: