Insights regarding Iceland

Those whose 'net surfing extends beyond the United States should be aware that the financial crisis is essentially worldwide, and that one of the hardest hit countries is Iceland, which has seen many of its major financial institutions devastated (for complex reasons which we won't go into here).

Today the Times Online has a fascinating article in its business/economics section about Iceland and its response to the crisis. Herewith some excerpts:

They want an election and someone to be Icelandic enough to grasp the blame and responsibility. But about themselves and the future they are remarkably, Nordically sanguine. A very direct woman in a bar said: “All that money, all the things and the stuff, it’s very un-Icelandic. The wanting, the conspicuous consumption, the avarice and ambition, the pathetic jealousy, that isn’t us. A great weight has been lifted now the money and the desires are gone. We can get back to being who we are.”

Who the Icelandics are is one of the great enigmas of northern Europe. They speak an ancient, pure Scandinavian. They are horrifically hard-drinking, maudlin and prone to flights of dark nihilism and lengthy bitterness. They are taciturn fishermen and farmers; stoical, practical and moral. They have published more books and produced more chess grandmasters per head than anywhere else. They read more and write more, they sing and play instruments. Everyone here can change a tyre, strip an engine, ride a horse, sail a boat, dress a sheep and cure a salmon. They have grown through a hard Calvinism to a moral atheism while maintaining an open mind about elves...

Families are going back to the old ways... The warming cabinets of convenience stores offer vacuum-packed, ready-cooked, laterally sliced halves of sheep’s heads, which I’m told are selling like boil-in-the-bag halves of sheep’s heads. The women are going back to knitting rough, tarry wool into the mentally geometric jerseys...

There is something invigorating about Iceland at this moment — like being with people waking from a dream. It’s exciting and instructive. It’s a patronising cliché to say that people have wealth beyond mere riches. Nobody is better off for being poor. But this tight-knit, undemonstrative community at the edge of the world has been woven together from sterner stuff than I think we could muster. “We’ll be all right — we’re not going to starve,” a shopkeeper told me. “We have fish and rye and mutton and barley. We can grow the odd tomato in a polytunnel. We have skills — useful skills, practical skills. And, you know, they’re under-heating the pavement outside my shop so it won’t freeze in the winter. All our energy is thermal and free. So maybe I can’t have a new mobile phone, but when I get drunk and fall over, the pavement will keep me warm.”

From the 12th century a miraculous thing happened here: one of those eruptions of creation that defy the laws of culture and make civilisations briefly pyrotechnic. A series of books were written to illuminate the dark: sagas, secular stories of life, of mystery and mythology, of lords and farmers, politics and revenge, love affairs and voyages. Stories that were the first to be written as narratives with parabolas of plot and evolving characters. Nobody anywhere else had ever done that before. It is the birth of literature... Nobody knows what inspired Iceland or what precipitated this volcano of clear, collected genius. It was just Iceland: out there, sparse and treeless...

They will be all right. This is the nation that made the first democratic parliament — the Althing — that fought the Royal Navy to make the first sustainable fishery in the northern hemisphere, produced three Miss Worlds and one Nobel literature laureate — then came second at handball. You are measured by how squarely you stand against bad luck. Not how you squander good luck.