Women in Iceland show how it's done
The day the Prime Minister delivers his message of fate to the people, the economics professor Katrín Olafsdóttir is standing around a TV set with some university colleagues, seeing the prime minister in front of a black background and hearing the unbelievable words: "God bless Iceland." In the US, a politician says that five times a day. Otherwise never in Iceland.
Trained educator Bedda Hallórsdóttir is currently working on a tourist bus on October 6, 2008, listening to the radio broadcast on headphones and thinking, "We're fucked." Lóa Thorhallsdóttir, entrepreneur, went fishing salmon fishing with friends that day. But instead of standing by the river, they sit in the car and listen to the radio.
Katrín Olafsdóttir has something to say today in her country: in addition to her teaching at the University of Reykjavík, the Professor of Economics works in a committee of the Icelandic Central Bank, which oversees monetary policy. "
Not only the three women, all Icelanders have remembered the day. Their country is on the brink: within a few days, three banks have gone bankrupt because they have borrowed mad loans abroad, which are now being reclaimed in one fell swoop after the real estate crisis in the United States. In the following months, the currency crashes by 40 percent, the state cuts wages and social spending. People are taking to the streets, chasing the Prime Minister out of office, shouting their rage at the clique of bankers whose megalomania began, including a striking number of young men. They are now called "banksters". The world looks with horror on Iceland: How can this flagship country so suddenly fall so deep? If that is possible, no land is safe anymore.
Today, just four years after the big bang, inflation has fallen, foreign debt has been eradicated, and the economy is growing. "We are getting better," says economics professor Olafsdóttir at a meeting in a well-attended Reykjavík café. Without indulgence she names the causes of the disaster: the "macho culture" in the highest bank floors, the uninhibited risk-taking, nepotism, excessiveness in the population: "To have several cars and a summer house was considered completely normal When the rapper booked 50 cents for his party, the other Elton John flew in. "
For many, the wonder of Iceland is above all the wonder of the Icelandic woman.
Today, the 47-year-old is one of those who have something to say in the country. In addition to her work at the university, she sits on a committee of the Icelandic Central Bank, which oversees monetary policy. The sole rule of the male "Bankster" is broken: Nine of the 19 highest posts of the central bank are now occupied by women. The chair of the supervisory board is a woman. Wherever money and economic policy are managed on a large scale, today more women find themselves in leadership positions - and not only, as is often the case, in human resources and marketing.
In addition to dozens of portraits of the hitherto consistently male ministers, the finance ministry conference room now also houses the picture of Iceland's first Minister of Finance. Since 2009, the government has been led by Prime Minister Johanna Sigurdardóttir.
So much femininity at the levers of power is a novelty even for Iceland, which is so concerned about equal rights. For many, the wonder of Iceland is above all the wonder of the Icelandic woman. But who is "the" Icelander? A Viking or even a rubble woman, as it is sometimes called? Or more like Bedda? Like all Icelanders, up to politicians and business leaders, she can also be called by strangers right by her first name.
Bedda Hallorsdóttir lives up to the motto "Thetta reddast"? is that going to happen again? and her optimism is so easy not to shake. The trained educator and mother of three children has diverse professional experience, including as a radio presenter and as a living sugar pack. Today she rents the rooms of her former residence to tourists.
Red-cheeked, radiant and constantly chattering, the 35-year-old stands in the entrance area of her guest house, between 60s furniture and turntables, earplugs and Polaroid photos of her guests. The trained educator once lived in this house. Pictures of her wedding and the three children hang in the hallway. But up in the bathtub, where she gave birth to her youngest, foreign tourists now take a shower. For them living in Iceland now as cheap as not for a long time.
On the other hand, Bedda had to move out of her house with her family, because her credit suddenly cost not 80, but 80 million Icelandic crowns and she could not have paid the installments."We got the loan so cheap back then," she says, "and were even encouraged to take in much more than was needed to buy the house."
Then came crisis and inflation. Bedda, the Busy, who has already worked as a radio presenter and distributed as an oversized sugar package advertising, thought of the Icelandic motto "Thetta reddast" - that will be back. And built her lovingly decorated house with the colorful painted walls to the guesthouse. That did not hurt, she assures. "I'm here every day, too, and everyone says how beautiful they are here." Energetically, she adds, "Iceland has not fallen as low as other countries, we still have good schools, a good health system, and when I hear people are down, I think, you have not tried it right, put something down the legs!"
Steinnun Birna Ragnarsdóttir has taken on a heavy legacy: the pianist leads the Harpa Concert Hall in Reykjavík. Although the overpriced object of prestige is still seen by the Icelanders as a symbol of the crisis, many concerts are sold out.
To know how to help, that is very important in this country - especially among the women. Many Icelanders have come up with a "Plan B", and some are now using their craft and artistic talent: they knit, paint, write and make music. In the old days you simply threw away old things, now you repair and sell them. It has recently been reported that in Iceland now as much money is being made with culture as with aluminum smelting, one of the most important industries in the country.
Probably no place stands for the flourishing of culture like the concert hall Harpa at the harbor of Reykjavík. It is led - of course - by a woman. Concert pianist Steinunn Birna Ragnarsdóttir has been music director here for two years. Your difficult task: to prove that the glittering, oversized building not only stands for the megalomania of a bygone era, but also for a new beginning.
In the crisis, the work did not continue for months, there was no money left for the prestige project planned in boom times, and the ruined building became the symbol of everything that had gone wrong. Now the 53-year-old boss of the rock band Jethro Tull over Jamie Cullum to violinist Hilary Hahn brings everything in the concert hall, what the Icelanders might like. They come and are thrilled: One million tickets were sold in the first year. Only 320,000 people live in Iceland. "People now appreciate more things that stay in bad times: family, friends - and culture," says Ragnarsdóttir.
Lára Juliusdóttir blames the young banksters in particular for the crisis. This is the result of the nine-volume report of the Commission of Inquiry, which included the lawyer. Today, the 61-year-old is chairing the central bank's parliamentary board.
It will be 35 years before the loans for the Konzerthaus are paid off - money that has to be saved elsewhere. Many Icelanders are angry. On the other hand, the government is trying not to burden its citizens beyond what is bearable. For example, taxes were raised above all for the high earners. Some taxes introduced or increased - such as those on sugary foods - were also a means of promoting health.
In order to prevent mass unemployment, for example, salary cuts were agreed in the civil service and positions were obtained. After the bank failure, the savings deposits of Icelanders were hedged, while many foreign investors - especially Dutch and British, but for example, the German Bank - lost a lot of money.
Above all the banks were taken into account. The three most important banks were dissolved and reopened under a new name and state supervision - with strict regulations: this is how the money houses should primarily invest in the local economy. And at the central bank, a newly created department with 100 employees works exclusively to prevent corruption and fraud.
There were maybe 30 guys who brought us this misery.
Why is this happening now? Did nobody look at you earlier, did nobody intervene when the mismanagement got worse and worse? Lára Júliusdóttir presides over the central bank's supervisory board and was part of the commission, which analyzed the causes of the crisis in nine thick volumes of reports. The realization of the 61-year-olds: "There were maybe 30 guys who brought us this misery."
It all began with the privatization of the previously state-run banks in the 1990s: companies acquired overpriced shares in the banks, which in return gave them far too lucrative cheap loans for which they lent themselves huge amounts of money from abroad. Nearly every financial house was close to a party that discreetly looked away or even supported the deals.Those who were sponsored by these types of banks and politicians could possibly even buy an airline without being familiar with this business without having to submit a sound business plan. The media fell away as a controlling body because many were also close to a party or were themselves in the hands of a major entrepreneur.
Lára Júliusdóttir has seen the young "banksters" gain more and more influence: "Older women, who had spent all their life at bank counters, now saw the boys getting four or five times higher salaries than they did, and then they were fired because the banks wanted to renew themselves, what we experienced was a glorification of youth. "
Lóa Thorhallsdóttir has an intricate career behind her: The graduate sociologist worked as a senior social worker at Reykjavík and taught at the university. Today she runs a restaurant chain.
Would it have been different if more women had been at the helm? "Definitely," says Lára Júliusdóttir. The entrepreneur Lóa Thorhallsdóttir disagrees: "We would not only need more women, but also more diversity, for example in education and old age." Many Icelandic women see it today. They know that they do not do anything different, possibly better than the men. But they find that they have to be there in the future when decisions are made. And they want something to change in the whole system.
Lóa Thorhallsdóttir is certain that her country is well on its way to achieving this goal. For example, a law has now come into force obliging companies with more than 50 employees to fill at least 40 percent of their boards with women. The approval is huge in Iceland, says Lóa Thorhallsdóttir: "There are also more and more men who believe in us."
