Blue whiting, mackerel and golden redfish may carry more weight at the ballot box than the expansionist rhetoric of US President Donald Trump or the strategic manoeuvring of Russia in the Arctic. In Iceland, where the sea shapes the economy, livelihoods and national identity, the most consequential decision in a decade comes down to one thing: fish.
On 29 August, Icelanders will vote on whether to resume negotiations to join the European Union, a process frozen since 2013. If approved, talks with Brussels would restart, potentially putting Iceland on a faster track to membership than other candidate countries.
At first glance, the timing seems ripe for a geopolitical debate. Washington's renewed interest in Greenland, combined with the war in Ukraine, has pushed the Arctic up Europe's strategic agenda. Yet the campaign on the ground tells a different story. According to Eirikur Bergmann, politics professor at Bifröst University and a prominent political commentator, the referendum is being fought over economics, sovereignty and, above all, control of Iceland's fishing grounds.
“Icelanders are split in half,” he said, noting that public debate still centres on the benefits of adopting the euro and the risks facing the fishing industry.
Fishermen's concerns are Iceland's concerns
Fishing's share of Iceland's GDP has declined but still stood at about 8% in 2024. It remains one of the country's largest export sectors and the backbone of many coastal communities. This is not the first time Icelanders have fought over the sea: during the three “Cod Wars” between 1958 and 1976, Reykjavík successfully defended its maritime claims against the United Kingdom.
Today, the threat comes from the EU's Common Fisheries Policy (CFP), which manages fishing resources among member states. The division of catch quotas for shared fish stocks is the biggest concern for the Icelandic industry, prompting calls for exemptions or special arrangements if the country joins. Iceland's fishing industry operates one of the world's most sophisticated quota systems, with scientifically based catch limits and tradable fishing rights.
For fishermen in towns like Ísafjörður or Vestmannaeyjar, the question is not only how much fish can be caught, but who decides who catches it. As Foreign Minister Þorgerður Katrín Gunnarsdóttir said in a recent interview, fisheries and agriculture are likely to be the toughest chapters in any renewed accession talks.
Farmers also fear the EU's Common Agricultural Policy (CAP), which could disrupt Iceland's heavily subsidised agricultural system, designed to compensate for the harsh climate and small domestic market.
Supporters of EU integration point to economic advantages, chief among them the adoption of the euro. This would eliminate exchange-rate volatility caused by the Icelandic krona, potentially reducing inflation, interest rates and the cost of international trade, as highlighted in a recent OECD report.
A referendum born by chance
The renewed interest in Europe is not a direct response to Trump's statements about Greenland or Arctic ambitions. While the United States has long been Iceland's principal security guarantor through NATO, and cooperation with the EU becomes more attractive if Washington becomes less predictable, security issues have not shaped domestic politics or dominated the referendum debate.
“I wouldn't say that has properly filtered into the debate yet,” Bergmann said, explaining that the referendum was decided after the 2024 election, before Trump's second term and the recent geopolitical shifts. “The security defence issue was not a part of that decision.”
The referendum is the consequence of a change in government rather than a dramatic shift in public opinion. A Eurosceptic coalition came to power in 2013, suspending negotiations and later withdrawing Iceland's application without consulting voters. The pendulum swung back in 2024, and a coalition of pro-European parties pledged to let Icelanders decide whether negotiations should resume.
“The only reason Iceland is moving ahead now is that we have a change in government. But the EU question had nothing to do with these parties coming to power,” Bergmann said. This explains why opinion polls remain finely balanced, with Icelanders revisiting a question that has divided the country since the early 2000s.
Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin may have reminded Iceland that the international order is changing, but voters entering polling stations are likely to think less about Greenland or Russia's Arctic ambitions than about domestic economic concerns.
Iceland is already deeply integrated into Europe: it is a member of the single market through the European Economic Area (EEA) and enjoys free movement of people, goods, services and capital within the Schengen area. Negotiations would not start from scratch, but the path to membership would still be fraught with difficult compromises over fish and farms.
