REYKJAVIK, (Reuters) – Few suspicions are raised by the sight of another geologist pottering around Iceland’s natural wonders of rock, fire and ice – unless that geologist is also the Chinese premier.
Wen Jiabao put on his hiking boots and donned a windbreaker in communist red at the weekend for time in Iceland’s wilds at the start of a visit to Europe. As admiringly as any tourist, he gave a thumbs up as the force of the Strokkur geyser blew water and steam metres into the air.
But in Iceland, the visit of the bespectacled “Grandpa Wen” has given rise to some unease over what his rising power, the world’s second-biggest economy and most populous nation, really seeks from the determinedly independent island.
Worries centre on China’s economic clout and its lack of democracy in a state that boasts the world’s oldest parliament.
“Don’t forget that we have been isolated on the margins of the rough Atlantic for centuries. Iceland is always a bit apprehensive about other nations,” Foreign Minister Ossur Skarphedinsson told Reuters.
China’s interest in ties to resource rich lands is no secret. Its businesses have also been on the lookout for opportunities in a Europe weakened by the global financial crisis – a crisis felt nowhere more sharply than Iceland.
Global warming also has the potential to redraw the geopolitical map near Iceland as melting ice could one day allow for trans-Polar traffic, opening up speedy new routes to Europe for Chinese exporters.
Iceland sees a place for itself on those routes, developing its sparsely populated north.
Iceland rolled out the red carpet for its first visit by a Chinese premier, making clear its satisfaction that Wen would start his European visit in the country whose population of 320,000 would barely qualify as a small city in China.
Business leaders have been upbeat on the visit. Local firm Orka Energy signed a deal with China’s Sinopec on geothermal energy. Coverage in Icelandic media has generally been positive.
But some Icelanders are not in such welcoming mood.
“Free Iceland!” someone wrote in giant letters outside the gleaming new music hall where the premier had dined with his 100-strong entourage, the words echoing the “Free Tibet” slogan.
