Icelandic police officer Guðmundur Fylkisson has revealed a significant clash with the Red Cross's harm reduction services. The conflict centered on a group of children under 18 using the organization's needle exchange program. Guðmundur, named Iceland's Person of the Year in 2025 for his work with vulnerable youth, described the incident in a recent podcast interview.
He stated that several years ago, a group of children in his care were actively using injection drugs. They frequently accessed services at the Red Cross's mobile harm reduction unit, known as 'Frú Ragnheiður' (Lady Ragnheiður). The unit's staff provided the minors with a safe environment and clean injection equipment. Guðmundur argued this directly contradicted his efforts to pull the children away from drug use.
"From 2022 I have not had such a group, which seeks that service," Guðmundur said. "My kids, while they are under eighteen, from 2022 they are not seeking this service." He claims the mobile unit's staff justified providing services by stating they did not know the children's ages. The program is built on a principle of anonymity and low-threshold access, where anyone can seek clean needles and basic healthcare.
A Fundamental Policy Conflict
This incident exposes a deep philosophical divide in Iceland's approach to youth drug addiction. On one side stands law enforcement and child protection, focused on abstinence and removal from harmful environments. On the other stands public health and harm reduction, prioritizing immediate safety and disease prevention over legal or age restrictions.
Guðmundur's work involves intense, personal advocacy for children with complex problems, often helping families search for missing kids. His perspective is rooted in protection. The Red Cross model, followed by similar services across the Nordic region, operates on a principle of 'meeting people where they are.' Forbidding services to minors, they argue, doesn't stop drug use—it only makes it more dangerous.
"The service is built so that anyone can go there and get clean syringes and health services," Guðmundur noted, highlighting the core of the conflict. There is no national protocol in Iceland mandating age checks at such facilities, creating a legal and ethical gray zone.
The Nordic Harm Reduction Context
Iceland's struggle mirrors debates occurring in neighboring capitals. Copenhagen and Oslo have long-established, extensive harm reduction programs, including supervised consumption sites. These are often defended as critical public health tools that reduce overdoses and the spread of HIV and hepatitis C.
However, Iceland's smaller, tighter-knit society and its historically different drug use patterns make the application of these models uniquely sensitive. The revelation that the conflict involved a named, dedicated officer and a specific mobile unit personalizes a usually abstract policy debate. It moves the issue from the Althing committee room to the streets of Reykjavik districts like Breiðholt or Árbær, where such services operate.
No parliamentary committee has yet convened specifically on this clash, but it touches on the jurisdictions of both the Health and Social Affairs Committee and the Children's and Youth Affairs Committee. Several Althing members have previously expressed concerns about youth access to harm reduction, but no legislation has been proposed to change the current low-threshold model.
The Officer's Mission and Its Limits
Guðmundur's Person of the Year award underscores the high public value placed on his form of hands-on, guardian-style intervention. He represents a system that seeks to actively rescue children from dangerous situations. His frustration with the Red Cross unit stems from seeing it as an enabler, undermining his rescue efforts by providing the tools for continued use.
Yet, public health experts would counter that his mission, while noble, cannot reach every child at every moment. The harm reduction service acts as a safety net for those not yet ready or able to accept help to stop. It aims to keep them alive and healthy until they are. The Red Cross has not yet issued a public response to Guðmundur's specific claims, but their operational guidelines are publicly available and emphasize confidentiality and accessibility.
This raises a critical question for Icelandic society: Can the protective, paternalistic model and the pragmatic, public health model coexist? Or does the operation of one inherently frustrate the goals of the other? The data from the Red Cross likely shows they are preventing disease. Guðmundur's anecdotal evidence suggests the service was facilitating use for a specific group of minors he was trying to help.
Searching for a Icelandic Solution
The path forward requires nuanced policy discussion, likely at the Althing level. Potential solutions could involve developing specific protocols for engaging with minors at harm reduction sites, mandating stronger collaboration between these units and child protection services, or creating specialized youth-focused outreach that blends harm reduction with immediate pathways to treatment and shelter.
Simply shutting down access for young people, as some might advocate following Guðmundur's account, is rejected by the broader Nordic public health community. Evidence from Sweden and Finland suggests driving youth use further underground leads to worse health outcomes without reducing prevalence.
Iceland must find its own balance. The nation has successfully used community-based programs and youth centers to curb teenage substance use in the past. This success story now collides with the harder reality of injection drug use among a small, highly vulnerable subset of minors. The geothermal energy that powers Iceland comes from finding balance between immense heat and cold water. A similar balance must be found between protection and pragmatism in drug policy.
A Personal Clash with National Implications
Ultimately, this story is about two dedicated entities, both believing they are acting in the best interests of vulnerable children, who found their methods to be in direct opposition. Guðmundur Fylkisson saw the mobile unit as part of the problem it sought to solve. The volunteers at Frú Ragnheiður likely saw themselves as the only source of safety for kids who had nowhere else to turn.
Their clash in the streets of Reykjavik is a microcosm of a global debate. It forces Iceland to examine whether its approach to youth drug use needs modernization. Should the country follow the more medically-oriented models of Denmark and Norway, or reinforce a stricter protective stance? The answer will define how Iceland cares for its most at-risk youth in the years to come. The silence from the Red Cross in response to these allegations is deafening, and the Althing may soon feel compelled to break it.