The word province comes from latin (provincia). Its two roots are Pro-, which may mean “on behalf of”, and vincere, which means “to win/triumph”. In the Roman Empire, a province was simply a territory conquered by the Romans. To control it they appointed a magistrate, often as a token of appreciation for a job well done. Thus, the term province is historically associated with the balance of power, when someone has gained control over someone else. Power is concentrated in the centre, in the metropole, from which the situation is controlled and the provincial quality of life determined.

Like many other words, the term province or provincial has little meaning except in relation to its opposite. Without a metropole or a centre, there can be no province or periphery. At first glance, one might think that the relation between the two is obvious: the powerful metropole casts the province in its own mould. This sets up a discourse on the region shaped primarily by this power structure, a discourse which appears descriptive, but is in reality a construct based on its own premises. Often this description is characterised by either “starry-eyed exoticism” or “wholesale denigration and inferiorization”, to use the words of one researcher. ¹

There are countless examples of the metropole belittling the provinces as backward, uncivilised and foolish, like in the many early accounts of travels to Iceland as late as the 1700s or mid-1800s. For instance, Icelandic people were often described as more animal than human; they ate like animals, dressed like animals, lived under ground like animals, and they bred like animals. Fortunately, the relationship between centre and periphery is often more subtle. There are examples of the metropole having a positive view of the province as a place where traditional values, now lost in the urban areas, have been upheld. One good illustration of this is the noticeable change in attitude towards Iceland in the 1800s. The country was increasingly recognised as a place where the Germanic and Nordic cultural heritage was best preserved and where the primal forces of nature were more evident than anywhere else. Iceland, the most isolated corner, was once again a hot topic of conversation in Western Europe in the latter part of the nineteenth and the early twentieth century. Intellectuals and politicians in Central Europe, Great Britain and Scandinavia “exploited” Icelandic history, medieval culture and literature to support “national claims to superiority”; in his book Exploring European Frontiers, Brian Dolan argues that a similar process occurred in the 1800s when scientists and travellers were enthralled by ancient Greece.² Although this change in attitude was mostly couched in the metropole's own terms, it was of great importance to Iceland as a province. The ambiguity in the centre-periphery relationship is reciprocal; although often negatively disposed towards the metropole, criticising its arrogance and sense of superiority, the province also holds it in high regard, admiring its beauty and copying its fashion.

Thus, the interdependence between metropole and province is a complex phenomenon. It is certainly true that the periphery provided fish, fur, ivory, wool and meat. It is also true that the centre laid down rules and religion, customs, fashions and opinions, which were accepted and assimilated by the provinces. Nevertheless, this relationship has long been a subject of active debate. In the case of Iceland, the seventeenth-century historian Arngrímur Jónsson may be considered the pioneer of “writing back”, to use Salman Rushdie's term for the debate between metropole and colony. Arngrímur´s effort may not have had much impact in his time, and it was not until the 1800s that the metropole started noticing backwaters like Iceland. The fact that Iceland could offer more than fish and sulphur was not particularly interesting to the European upper class; “Of Yseland to wryte is lytill need” ³ had long been the take-home message. However, from the mid-1800s, Iceland received some recognition from its neighbours, and particularly with respect to literature and cultural heritage, the Icelandic “letters” were being noticed.

According to the dictionary, a provincialist is one who lives on the outskirts, but also one who supports the local people's demand for justice and fair treatment. Provincialism is a demographic phenomenon, but also holds connotations of backwardness and narrow-mindedness. There might be some truth to the notion that the province is out of step, and often xenophobic. On the other hand, provincialism means leaving room for uniqueness, for a different perspective, an alternative. In order to gain access to the metropole, the province needs to foster courage and initiative, one needs to make an extra effort, like learning several foreign languages. This is often seen as unnecessary in the metropole, and is one of the benefits of living in a province.