After the second world war Iceland began to gradually extend the fishing zone around its coastline. The first cod war began in 1958 when it proclaimed a 12-mile fishing zone, followed by the second cod war in 1972, which extended the limit to 50 miles. In October 1975 Reykjavik decided to further increase its protected waters to a 200-mile zone, effectively cutting off British and German fishers from their best catch. This led to the third cod war which saw violent clashes and rammings. The dispute ended in June 1976 when Britain recognised the 200-mile limit.

Iceland opens fire on British vessel

By David Fairhall, Patrick Keatley, and Mark Arnold-Forster in Brussels
12 December 1975

The cod war turned to violence yesterday when the Icelandic gunboat Thor opened fire on British fishery support vessels and was herself badly damaged in collision with the ocean-going tug Lloydsman. The clash began with an apparent attempt by the Thor to arrest the support vessel Star Aquarius as she sheltered from a force 9 gale off Seydisfjord. An obviously stage-managed incident, British diplomatic sources suggested, timed to coincide with the Nato Foreign Ministers’ meeting in Brussels – where Iceland evidently hopes to exploit fears, particularly among the Americans, of losing the vital allied airbase at Keflavik.

But Icelandic diplomats in Brussels promptly retorted that the clash was more likely to have been stage-managed from London than Reykjavik.

According to the Royal Navy, the Thor emerged from the fjord intent on arresting the Star Aquarius as she wanted to take on water and supplies from the support tug Lloydsman. The Icelandic coastguard vessel ranged alongside, signalling the British ship to stop, or she would shoot. In the process she struck the Star Aquarius a glancing blow – or was struck a glancing blow – which is not surprising with two ships rearing and plunging in a severe gale.

As the Thor broke clear, the powerful Lloydsman surged in between the other two to protect the Star Aquarius from arrest. The Thor emerged from the subsequent clashes with her deck crane and funnel badly buckled, and it was while the tug’s bows were grinding against her side that she opened fire.
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Editorial: strife on the ocean wave

12 December 1975

The third cod war saw its first shots fired yesterday – and witnessed more collisions. Both sides had been stepping up the dispatch of protection vessels and lunatic derring-do displays of seamanship, so that these incidents, the most dangerous so far, had become, sadly, almost inevitable. The appallingly heavy seas, and a limited visibility of the Arctic murk, make dishing out blame unprofitable. Perhaps it was no accident that the shots and collisions coincided with Nato meetings in Brussels. Nevertheless, they are vivid illustrations of the fact that lives are at risk, and that the current tactics being used on the seas (and around the negotiating tables) are at best myopic.

And for the moment, deadlock looks the continuing prospect even though Mr Callaghan was openly conciliatory in Brussels yesterday. Iceland is enjoying the role of Naval David to the British Goliath. Its tactics are based on riding out the ocean battle until the next Law of the Sea Conference, scheduled for the spring, turns consensus about 200-mile economic offshore zones into law. Simultaneously, Mr [Einar] Agustsson, the foreign minister of a broadly conservative government, claims that concessions to Britain would lead to its immediate exit from power and replacement by a tougher left-wing administration. This may be exaggeration, but what has indeed happened is that the longer the government has played for time the more difficult a concession without electoral disaster has become. Iceland is a single, united fishing constituency. The reduced levels which Britain has offered (110,000 tons of cod a year) could be lowered without affecting drastically the catch per boat of Hull, Grimsby and Fleetwood; and these are three, hardly united constituencies. But softer offers now are harder to accept: harder as the first guns boom.

The real room for compromise nestles among the longer term issues. It is possible to challenge Iceland’s 200-mile limit in law. But this zone has now become generally acceptable, and underlines painfully where Britain’s case is weakest. Britain is not only intending to follow suit before long, but has already shown itself as fiercely protective on the international scene about oil as Iceland is about fish. Thus the argument rests on the frail, if not hypocritical, bases. There are Nato considerations, too (although Iceland’s importance is diminishing, and alternative arrangements to the reconnaissance facilities of Keflavik could be made, but at a cost). Even so, it is hardly worth adding stress to Nato’s northern flank whilst the southern one – because of Greek and Turkey – lies in such a parlous state.

Fish are for preserving as well as catching, and here Britain and Iceland can cooperate, not compete. A change in the British subgastronomic obsession with all catching levels, and the future of Iceland’s economy could be assured. The difference between the last open catch offers from Iceland and Britain is less than 45,000 tons. The slap and slosh of obdurate gumboot-diplomacy, plus the dangers of high-seas naval bravado, are simply not worth a fish finger mountain.

Gunboat in reverse as cod war flares

By Simon Hoggart, parliamentary correspondent
13 December 1975

The House of Commons, in tune with its modern no-nonsense image, went in for a spot of non-gunboat diplomacy yesterday, when it discussed the cod war with Iceland.

In the last century, when small nations dared to get stroppy with us, we sent a gunboat along to sort them out. But the problem is vastly worse when the small nation is brandishing the gunboat at us. Admittedly it seems to be a rather accident-prone gunboat, conducting a naval engagement like a car chase with dodgems, but it does begin to look as if in the long run it will be as successful in its purpose as those British vessels which used to steam into Far Eastern ports and African rivers.

So the House was slightly schizophrenic yesterday, with more than a hint from some members that we might do better to jack the whole thing in and admit defeat. The only fresh news came from Mr Hattersley, the foreign secretary’s deputy, who revealed that the government was considering bringing in an independent mediator.

This, it emerged later in the day, would probably be Herr Hans-Jurgen Wischnewski, who is a friend of Mr Hattersley and his opposite number in the West German Foreign Office. The mind boggles agreeably at the thought at a Germanic Hattersley, a spritely soul taking care not to spill his Claret when he clicks his heels.

The problem is, of course, that the Icelanders are not likely to want a mediator since they are likely to win when the International Law of the Sea conference extends their limits to 200 miles. Nevertheless, Mr Callaghan said in Brussels yesterday that the Icelanders had not totally ruled the idea out. They didn’t want it just yet, but might consider it in future.

Mr Hattersley said that there would be no sudden change in British policy. While Thursday’s incident would make a negotiated settlement harder to find, the government would go on looking for compromise. We would be defending ourselves at the UN by pointing out the legality of our position and our duty to protect our fishermen.

Then another, Mr John Prescott (Lab, Hull East), said that we should clear out and stop the whole “pirouette” before someone was killed. One death was worth more than 30,000 tons of fish, particularly as we were going to lose the whole battle at the sea conference next year. Mr Hattersley said that this was the equivalent of telling the Hull fishermen to go home and get on to the dole because the Icelandic government just didn’t happen to like what they were doing.