Is Iceland a Good Ally?
Garðar Forberg, formerly Iceland's representative on NATO's Military Committee, opens with what Iceland does well, then argues it falls well short of being a genuinely good ally.
The strength is speed. He recounts buying ten fuel trucks from a dealer near Brussels and delivering the first to the Ukrainian border within a week, after Ukraine warned its counter-offensive could not start without them. Small Iceland, he says, became known for "getting things done" – flying allied weapons eastward the day after the invasion despite owning no arms itself. Lacking an army, Iceland is strong in aviation, transport, and logistics, and these are real contributions.
The overall effort, though, is weak. Iceland lags far behind the Nordic countries in total support for Ukraine and seems indifferent to meeting NATO summit commitments. Defence spending has risen from 0.08% to about 0.2% of GDP, still far below the alliance's 5% target (3.5% military, 1.5% dual-use infrastructure, by 2035). Iceland, he argues, has hung everything on the 1.5% – roads, harbours, reserve airports – while ignoring the 3.5%, with no clear strategy for either.
Smallness is no excuse. He compares Iceland with Montenegro: similar population but a fraction of the wealth (Iceland's GDP roughly $33bn in 2024 versus $8bn), yet Montenegro plans to ramp up quickly while Iceland points to 2035. It cannot be right that the richer the state, the less it contributes proportionally. He ties this to a self-image gap – Icelanders consider themselves world-class per capita in everything but defence – and cites NATO polling where Iceland ranked highest in wanting help but lowest in willingness to give it. Being unarmed, he insists, is part of Iceland's identity but cannot be a permanent exemption from commitments and credibility, or a shelter for inaction.
Capability, not an army. Trained as a German army officer, Forberg admits an Icelandic army appeals to him but argues a token force would waste money and mean little to NATO. Far smarter is to invest in force multipliers – capabilities that magnify Iceland's value, strengthen deterrence, and make it a useful link in collective defence. He flags one urgent gap: the Coast Guard has too few helicopters to cover both domestic duties and the standby cover required during allied air policing, and a "we'll sort it out" (is. þetta reddast) culture is not a defence policy. He calls for funded helicopter capacity, far better monitoring of Iceland's vast waters, and – crucially – the ability to respond, not just observe.
Resilience and hybrid threats. Iceland excels at natural-disaster response through its admired volunteer-based system, close to the Nordic total defence concept, but the link between civilian and military capability is weak and the focus is on natural rather than man-made hazards. As the line between conventional and hybrid warfare blurs a few simultaneous events could overwhelm a police force and Coast Guard too small to cope. He urges strengthening both, building specialised response capacity, and seriously debating a reserve or national guard. He presses equally sharp questions on fuel reserves, backup power, food and medicine stocks, communications, ports, and cyber-security and highlights Varða's point that not one merchant ship is registered in Iceland, meaning foreign-flagged vessels could be requisitioned by their flag states in a crisis, leaving Iceland without its own shipping capacity.
His conclusion. This is not scaremongering but normal risk analysis for a small, wealthy, strategically vital state. Iceland needs more of its own capacity and clearer response plans, not to stand alone, but so it is not left exposed until others arrive. Government must answer with a credible, funded, time-bound plan, not vague appeals to smallness or special status. Anything less, he concludes, will not do if Iceland genuinely wants to count as a good ally.