Iceland: Cracks in the crust

the collapse of the krona and nationalisation of the country’s three largest banks in early October, which forced the country to secure help from the IMF, have left Iceland’s economic miracle and Mr Oddsson’s reputation in tatters. For weeks, protesters have gathered in Reykjavik’s main square each Saturday calling for his removal from office. On the chilly afternoon of December 1st a few hundred of them, shouting “David out, David out”, gathered at the Arnarson statue and marched down the hill to the central bank. In the lobby, they were met by riot police, who eventually defused the situation.

Almost no other private creditor is lending them anything; Iceland has turned instead to the IMF. In November the fund agreed to a $2.1 billion two-year standby programme, which was supplemented by promises from Nordic countries and Poland, as well as Britain, the Netherlands and Germany. The package will be worth $10.2 billion in total—more than half of Iceland’s GDP.

The IMF calls the collapse of the banks the biggest banking failure in history relative to the size of an economy. In 2007 Iceland’s three main banks made loans equivalent to about nine times the size of the booming economy, up from about 200% of GDP after privatisation in 2003 (see chart 1). Only about one-fifth of those loans were in kronur; interest rates on these were punitively high. Ordinary citizens instead borrowed from their banks in cheaper currencies such as yen and Swiss francs to buy even the most modest homes and cars.

But after the banks collapsed in early October, the currency slumped and domestic interest rates rose sharply (see chart 2). Exchange controls imposed in the heat of the crisis have severely restricted access to hard currency. Initially, there were fears for the payments system. But after an initial panic, credit and debit cards appear to work normally again; Reykjavik’s stores are filled with Christmas shoppers, and restaurants still serve up expensive delicacies such as grilled whale.

But people are mostly living on borrowed time as well as borrowed money. The IMF programme forecasts that the economy will contract by 9.6% next year. Many workers have been laid off but, thanks to Iceland’s labour laws, they have three months’ notice, so the impact is not yet being fully felt. Many young Icelanders, who have never known unemployment, are expected to lose their jobs as businesses shut down. Vilhjalmur Egilsson, head of the Confederation of Icelandic Employers, the main business organisation, says that “corporate Iceland is technically bankrupt” because of its foreign debts. It is unable to refinance loans because the new capital controls mean all credit to the country has dried up.

The scale of what confronts Ms Hjaltested and other Icelanders is only just becoming clear. According to the IMF, the failure of the banks may cost taxpayers more than 80% of GDP. Relative to the economy’s size, that would be about 20 times what the Swedish government paid to rescue its banks in the early 1990s. It would be several times the cost of Japan’s banking crisis a decade ago.