No legal system can effectively function without some authority to administer and interpret the laws therein. Any “law” created by people with no plan to reinforce it with a judiciary is useless, and the system is no better than anarchy. Laws must come with consequences, which must be applied justly and fairly by a court invested with the power to do so. This process is not solely about punishment; it is also about maintaining peace and resolving disputes. Our goal here is not only to examine how legal assemblies worked in historical contexts and how we might apply these ideas here and now but also to consider the religious underpinnings of such assemblies and why they are so vital for practicing the Heathen faith. We will not bog this treatise down with every regional or national variation in ancient Scandinavia; instead, we shall concentrate on the general characteristics of the Þing and how these can be adapted for our use today. Countless laws and concepts revolve around the institution of the Þing, and many sources describe how each Þingdistrict was organized. Nevertheless, our focus will be on what types of Þings existed, who participated in them, and what procedures made them run effectively.
First and foremost, these ancient societies were built upon the only power structure that truly localized authority and kept the people strong: the clan system, with the clans themselves referred to as Ættar. We covered this system in our Ættarbók, showing how it may be reintroduced today to restore the power of the family unit. The great clans of Skjǫldungr, Vǫlsungr, Buðlungr, and others were held in the highest esteem, forming a core of strength and organization that successfully kept Imperial Rome at bay in Germania. Even the mightiest empire in the known world could not break the Heathen spirit, a spirit that flowed through these clans. Ensuring these clans reemerge in their true form is of paramount importance in the modern era.
With such a clan system in place, the Heathen tribes developed a representative system of government, even under kings, that allowed the people to have a voice in the creation and enforcement of laws. However, it was not the façade we see in modern politics, where virtually anyone can take part and elections often become bloated popularity contests. As with many later republics, only landowners were permitted to vote, which prevented monarchs and other authorities from accumulating excessive power. The principle behind granting the vote to landowners was that those with the greatest stake in the land and its outcomes had a say in crucial matters, thus ensuring that positions of responsibility were held by competent individuals. Allowing þrælls to dictate the affairs of one’s nation turns it into a cesspit of degeneracy, plagued by incompetence and failure.
Types of Þings
Now we turn to how these clans sustained their representative governments through the hierarchy of the clan system. We begin with the House, or Hús, which corresponds to the immediate family. In ancient times, the Húsþing was a small council or assembly held by a king, jarl, or family-head (hǫfðingi) with his household or guards. We can adapt this to the following: by establishing a weekly meeting with your family, with a genuine agenda to discuss your place within the clans and tribes, you can begin to form a structured entity that builds actual influence. Modern governments tremble at the notion of clans reemerging, which is why they incessantly tout “national unity” as propaganda, urging people to reject the one system capable of restoring their power. Until we recognize this, the Machiavellian apparatus that perpetuates your subjugation will remain. You can trust your family far more than any goblin in a suit who claims to have your best interests at heart while gorging himself on the national coffers.
After the Húsþing comes the Ættarsþing, or “Þing of the Clans,” traditionally referred to as a Fylkisþing (“District-Þing”). For our purposes, we aim to establish a framework whereby our clans can join forces and craft something viable in the modern era. A clan is essentially a collection of households, each headed by a representative. The earliest records regarding the timing and function of this Þing appear in Germania, where Tacitus describes how such assemblies took shape.
Upon minor matters the chiefs deliberate; upon greater matters the general assembly, with the reservation that, in the latter case, where the popular vote settles the question, these matters, too, must be thoroughly debated at a meeting of the chiefs. The general assembly is held regularly on fixed days (except in the instance of a sudden emergency arising) either at new or at full moon, for they hold these times to be the most auspicious date for entering upon their discussions. They reckon time by nights instead of by days as we do, and all their engagements and arrangements are made on this system; the day is counted in with the previous night. Their perfect independence of one another involves this drawback, that they never reach their trysting-place together nor obey the conditions of their summons, but two or three days are always wasted by the unpunctuality of the late comers. When the general opinion is that the time has come to begin, they all take their seats, arms in hand. Silence is commanded by the priests, on whom now devolves the task of maintaining order. Then the king or a chief, according to the speaker’s age or rank or fame or eloquence, is heard by the assembly; but he is listened to rather as a man whose influential character carries weight than as one who has the power to command. If the proposal finds no favor, its rejection is signified by groaning; if it is accepted, the warriors clash their spears. Approval expressed by the clashing of arms is the form of assent held in the highest honor.
Thus, one can choose to hold the monthly Clan-Þing either at the new moon or the full moon, acknowledging the historical precedent for such gatherings and constructing a framework around these lunar phases, which are expressly noted as marking the time for meetings. During these assemblies, the clan addresses matters impacting every family within their union and deliberates on the various legal concerns affecting the broader community.
Finally, we have the national Þing, an institution still existing in Scandinavian nations today. There is the Icelandic Alþing (“All-Thing”), the Danish Folketing (“Folk-Thing”), and the Norwegian Storting (“Great Thing”), all serving as parliamentary bodies. Some have functioned as republics, while others remain under monarchs; nonetheless, they facilitate representative government and uphold a balance of power. Because we aim to revive our ancient Heathen faith for the present day, it seems appropriate to establish a general Þing to embody this reconstruction. Recognizing our primordial heritage under Heimdallr’s guidance, we find it fitting to invoke his name in this renewal and preserve it for future generations. Hence, we call our general Þing Rígsþing, “The Þing of Rígr,” referencing the name he bore when he first visited humankind at the dawn of our civilization.
Proceedings
The Þing must have a defined structure for its proceedings, one that can expand in complexity over time but always preserves order, enables each person to speak in turn, and prevents the court from descending into chaos. Certain rules must be observed to ensure that everyone has a voice and that no grievance or matter of justice goes unheard. Because of this, the following should be the basic outline for achieving this.
Introduction: Before the event begins, a Chairman, called a Forsetr (from our God Forseti) is chosen. This may be an elected position or an appointed seat. The Forsetr upholds order and directs the proceedings. Then, everyone is called to the place where the Þing is to take place, usually summoned by the blowing of a horn. Next, a Goði or Gyðja calls for silence and blesses the gathering, invoking the Gods and Goddesses of the Þing, commonly Forseti, Baldr, Syn, and Vor, to guide participants in making sound decisions. The Lawspeaker (Lǫgsǫgumaðr) then steps forward to recite all laws relevant to the court: your religious laws, your group’s bylaws, and those of the Sedian Nation.
Conference: Here, members discuss matters of collective importance to the group. This could involve economic issues, modifications or additions to customs, induction of new members, noteworthy news, or anything of value that may be brought forth, examined, debated, and/or decided on. This is where the folk may enter any topic they desire into the discussion, so long as they have the floor. It is here that heads of household, members of the leadership, or the Rígsþing mediate the debates as they develop. A special artifact, used specifically for this purpose, shall be passed around the assembled. When one has a hold of the artifact, they have the floor, and can present a topic, or pass it on to another. When a member has the floor, they are allowed to speak uninterrupted until they have finished and open the topic for debate, which they must do (or the mediators will do it for them) once they are done. If any debates lead to some sort of decision that will require a vote, this will be noted by the mediators, to be brought forward in the next segment. Once they have declared the debates or discussion closed, the artifact moves on to the next member, unless the one holding it has something else to present. It is here that the Þing hears any appeals on matters concerning the law, organizational structure, and divisions of Ætts, except those pertaining to the Justice segment, which will be heard below. The Conference segment of the Þing does not conclude until the artifact has been passed around the entire assembly of established members.
Legislation: Here the gathered bring forth any topics for a vote, which have been debated or discussed in the previous segment. This will also include any by-laws or rules that may be added, repealed, or amended. A key principle is that larger entities may not impose mandates for specific groups within the smaller divisions, i.e. the Rígsþing cannot create laws for specific Ætts or families and the Ættarþing cannot create laws for specific families. Each entity governs itself by its own legal code in a “gradual umbrella” structure: larger bodies set rules for the broader unions they represent, ensuring fairness and equality without infringing on the rights of smaller groups. It is here that the Þing will decide on any appeals pertaining to the matters heard above.
Arbitration: Lastly, we address disputes between two or more parties that have been brought before the court. First, they must swear an oath upon their honor that they will speak truth in presenting their case, and that they will accept the Þing’s decision, no matter what. Violation of this oath should have its own consequences. Settlement of disputes should work through the family and clan so that menial conflicts can easily be corrected by a simple apology or handshake. We do not want to abuse the power of the Þing by over-utilizing it to deal with every minor issue, nor do we want to allow disputes to fester and grow into something damaging to the overall group.
The difference here is that elders, kinsmen, and the Goðorð can only offer advice on how to settle a dispute, whereas the Þing wields the combined wisdom of many and the strength of its formal authority. Thus, when people bring their cases before the Þing, there is a clear expectation that the ruling will be final, and that some form of compromise or resolution must be reached and honored. Of course, that may not necessarily erase personal animosity, nor does it guarantee that conflict will never flare up again, but the intention is that a fair resolution be devised, one which all parties accept in an honorble manner. The Þing’s primary purpose is to keep peace, and though this is the hope driving its decisions, it will not always succeed perfectly. Ultimately, those involved should make sincere efforts to settle matters themselves whenever possible, and understand that the folk and the Þing stand ready to help them. This portion of the Þing does not conclude until every dispute has been heard.
Justice: This segment often proves the most challenging for many of our members to initiate, yet it is no less essential. Here, charges are brought forward where individuals have committed níðs (ON níðar), or crimes against our folk, our faith, or our federation. By ancestral custom, which inspired the basis for modern criminal trials, a jury of 12 is chosen, comprising 6 friends of the accused and 6 friends of the accuser, to weigh the evidence impartially. Naturally, one cannot always arrange the panel precisely in this manner; circumstances may dictate certain adjustments. Before any charges can be officially introduced or publicly announced, the supporting evidence must be presented to the Elder(s) or Judge(s) to determine if the case merits a full Þing hearing or if it can be resolved outside the court. Should the Elder(s) or Judge(s) deem the case worthy of trial, they will then refer it to the appropriate Þing, based on the accused’s affiliation and the group or individual(s) they have wronged, be that their family’s Þing, a Húsþing, an Ættarþing, or the Rígsþing of our Nation.
It is important to remember that the main objective of a trial is not to punish the accused but to restore their honor before the folk, enabling them to rebalance their ǫrlǫg. As in Arbitration, both sides must swear an oath to speak truthfully and to abide by the Þing’s verdict, whatever it may be. Even if the defendant is innocent but somehow found guilty through an error in judgment (which we hope never happens), they should accept the sentence so that they may clear their name and preserve the nobility of the folk as a whole. This sacrifice of self brings more honor to them than any false charge can take away. Ideally, such dire circumstances will be rare, since they would involve slander or deception (níðs in themselves) that must be exposed and eliminated if discovered. Regardless of the final outcome, we hold that under ǫrlǫg, once any níð has been compensated for, the offender’s honor stands fully restored, and their misdeed is treated as though it never occurred.
Typical punishments may progress in severity according to the seriousness of the offense or the number of prior offenses. Such measures might start with a reprimand, then move to private censure, then public censure, then probation, then temporary banishment, then removal from station or position, and finally permanent banishment for the gravest transgressions. The greatest punishmet of all is for us to declare one Vargr í Véum¸which blacklists a person from attending any ceremony anywhere for their misdeeds. These sentences should be carried out by the Goðorð, who act in the name of the Gods to purify the offender of their wrongdoing (see Germania, ch. 7). We should be careful about labeling anyone within our community a níðingr, especially if we hope for their eventual reintegration. The Þing’s purpose is not to condemn or humiliate but to maintain harmony, no matter what conflicts arise. The Old Norse term friðr (“peace”) also implied a fine paid to the state to settle disputes and preserve amity among all parties. Our courts, likewise, may issue fines when appropriate. Still, for our purposes, permanent banishment from the Nation stands as the ultimate punishment for the most heinous crimes. Such banishment severs all ties with the offender; those who wish to follow them may renounce their oaths of loyalty to the Nation, in keeping with our devotional hierarchy. A person may certainly remain with us even if a family member is banished, without any stigma placed upon them. If someone chooses to leave in solidarity with their banished loved one, which can be seen as both acceptable and honorable (mirroring Sigyn’s steadfastness beside Loki in the Eddas), they may return at any time. Hopefully, our Nation need never enact permanent banishment, but we must be prepared for all possibilities. Of course, as previously noted, any verdict may be appealed to a higher Þing, but only if the original court agrees, and provided such an appeal will not create tension among the alliance’s various groups.
Celebration: An authentic feature of our ancestral Þing traditions, Celebration forms an essential part of the proceedings, allowing tensions from earlier debates to dissipate and restoring the bonds of kinship and camaraderie to their rightful place. Here, the more formal aspects, heated discussions, and looming troubles are put aside, replaced with fellowship, feasting, drinking, and merriment shared by the folk. This celebratory gathering helps people vent their emotions in the previous segments, secure in the knowledge that goodwill and unity will ultimately triumph. We must remember that the Þing is a tool: a means of exposing issues, deliberating on them, and bringing order to our community. No one should leave its assembly bearing personal grudges or harboring bitterness just because they did not prevail in a particular dispute. The Celebration is designed precisely to diffuse lingering negativity, ensuring that participants depart with an uplifting sense of festivity and friendship, a final reaffirmation of unity. It is crucial to the success of your assembly that you adhere to the sequence of segments outlined above. You will want Conference and Legislation to precede Arbitration and Justice, since the latter two are more severe and could overshadow vital discussions regarding the Nation’s affairs. You will likewise want to begin with the Introduction and end with the Celebration, so that order and peace guide the start of the gathering, and the final note is one of camaraderie and goodwill.
Whenever an entity within our Nation holds a Þing, the matters addressed should pertain only to those in attendance. A family’s Húsþing should deal strictly with that family and household’s concerns, not broader Ætt or national issues, unless these directly affect that household. The same principle applies to any other entity in our alliance: keep your focus on the matters relevant to the assembly before you. An Ætt need not busy itself with the private affairs of each constituent household unless such issues impact the entire group under its banner (for instance, wrongdoing requiring recompense or any situation affecting their union). The same holds true for the Rígsþing, which need not concern itself with every minor incident within its smaller divisions. Additionally, refrain from discussing matters involving absent individuals, for doing so is dishonorable, as everyone should be able to defend themselves against accusations or personally speak to their own concerns. If people refuse to stand before the court to address important matters, that is another issue altogether.
Excerpt from: Æfinlǫgr: The Book of Sedian Law: Puryear, Mark, Hrafnakonr, Aðakán Jamesarson: 9798307965320: Amazon.com: Books