What can Iceland teach us about a wealth tax?

The country instituted an emergency tax for three years to sort out its problems. Should we?

Iceland’s remarkable recovery can serve as a lesson to the UK.

Having recently paid back its IMF loan quicker than was predicted, Iceland's unorthodox reaction to the crisis has been hailed by economists, policy-makers and the IMF itself. In addition to letting its financial system fail, the country introduced capital controls (which have been met with some skepticism as they arguably prevent foreign direct investment and therefore stunt growth) and leveraged its fiscal policy to pay off debt whilst sustaining consumption. It is this last point the UK should pay heed to, particularly as Clegg declares his support for a wealth tax.

The general theme of Iceland’s 2010 tax reform (pdf) is one of increasing tax revenue whilst offsetting the burden for lower income individuals. For instance, while fuel taxes and VAT were increased, the revenue was partially re-channeled towards public transportation and bottom-quartile households compensated for higher food, heating, and transport costs. Furthermore, in an effort to raise income without affecting consumption, the government implemented an emergency wealth tax rate for the period of 2010-2013. As of January 2011, one year after introduction, the tax rate is 1.5 per cent of net capital for single individuals with more than ISK 75,000,000 (£390,000) or 100,000,000 (£519,000) for married couples. By taxing the top 2.2 per cent of the population, the Icelandic government was able to raise 0.3 per cent of GDP in revenue every year.

However, an IMF report on the country's reform argues that the wealth tax should be abandoned as capital controls ease. Because the tax is recurring, the only thing that is stopping the wealthy from offshoring capital is the simple fact that they’re not allowed to. Therefore, IMF economists argue that the revenue from the wealth tax should be replaced by a less mobile base (i.e. real estate and high income). This does not, however, discredit the Icelandic wealth tax as a possibility in the UK; it just means that, as suggested by German scholars, it should be a one-off levy. (For an in-depth assessment of Clegg’s wealth tax go here)

Meanwhile, the biggest lesson the UK can learn from Iceland is that its recovery was at least partially fuelled by the government's struggle against depressed consumption.

Bloomberg's Omar Valdimarsson writes:

Iceland’s growth “is driven by private consumption, investment has picked up strongly and even though, when you look at net exports, those have a negative contribution to growth, it is mainly because imports have been strong, reflecting strong consumption and an increase in income and the healthy expectations of households,” Zakharova said. “Still, exports have been increasing very strongly. Last year was a banner year for tourism. These are all really positive things.”

A handful of Icelandic banknotes are withdrawn from an ATM. Photograph: Getty Images
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Leader: Trump and an age of disorder

Mr Trump’s disregard for domestic and international norms represents an unprecedented challenge to established institutions.

The US presidency has not always been held by men of distinction and honour, but Donald Trump is by some distance its least qualified occupant. The leader of the world’s sole superpower has no record of political or military service and is ignorant of foreign affairs. Throughout his campaign, he repeatedly showed himself to be a racist, a misogynist, a braggart and a narcissist.

The naive hope that Mr Trump’s victory would herald a great moderation was dispelled by his conduct during the transition. He compared his country’s intelligence services to those of Nazi Germany and repeatedly denied Russian interference in the election. He derided Nato as “obsolete” and predicted the demise of the European Union. He reaffirmed his commitment to dismantling Obamacare and to overturning Roe v Wade. He doled out jobs to white nationalists, protectionists and family members. He denounced US citizens for demonstrating against him. Asked whether he regretted any part of his vulgar campaign, he replied: “No, I won.”

Of all his predilections, Mr Trump’s affection for Vladimir Putin is perhaps the most troubling. When the 2012 Republican presidential nominee, Mitt Romney, warned that Russia was the “number one geopolitical foe” of the US, he was mocked by Barack Obama. Yet his remark proved prescient. Rather than regarding Mr Putin as a foe, however, Mr Trump fetes him as a friend. The Russian president aims to use the US president’s goodwill to secure the removal of American sanctions, recognition of Russia’s annexation of Crimea and respect for the murderous reign of the Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad. He has a worryingly high chance of success.

Whether or not Mr Trump has personal motives for his fealty (as a lurid security dossier alleges), he and Mr Putin share a political outlook. Both men desire a world in which “strongmen” are free to abuse their citizens’ human rights without fear of external rebuke. Mr Trump’s refusal to commit to Nato’s principle of collective defence provides Mr Putin with every incentive to pursue his expansionist desires. The historic achievement of peace and stability in eastern Europe is in danger.

As he seeks reconciliation with Russia, Mr Trump is simultaneously pursuing conflict with China. He broke with precedent by speaking on the telephone with the Taiwanese president, Tsai Ing-wen, and used Twitter to berate the Chinese government. Rex Tillerson, Mr Trump’s secretary of state nominee, has threatened an American blockade of the South China Sea islands.

Mr Trump’s disregard for domestic and international norms represents an unprecedented challenge to established institutions. The US constitution, with its separation of powers, was designed to restrain autocrats such as the new president. Yet, in addition to the White House, the Republicans also control Congress and two-thirds of governorships and state houses. Mr Trump’s first Supreme Court appointment will ensure a conservative judicial majority. The decline of established print titles and the growth of “fake news” weaken another source of accountability.

In these circumstances, there is a heightened responsibility on the US’s allies to challenge, rather than to indulge, Mr Trump. Angela Merkel’s warning that co-operation was conditional on his respect for liberal and democratic values was a model of the former. Michael Gove’s obsequious interview with Mr Trump was a dismal example of the latter.

Theresa May has rightly rebuked the president for his treatment of women and has toughened Britain’s stance against Russian revanchism. Yet, although the UK must maintain working relations with the US, she should not allow the prospect of a future trade deal to skew her attitude towards Mr Trump. Any agreement is years away and the president’s protectionist proclivities could yet thwart British hopes of a beneficial outcome.

The diplomatic and political conventions embodied by the “special relationship” have endured for more than seven decades. However, Mr Trump’s election may necessitate their demise. It was the belief that the UK must stand “shoulder to shoulder” with the US that led Tony Blair into the ruinous Iraq War. In this new age of disorder, Western leaders must avoid being willing accomplices to Mr Trump’s agenda. Intense scepticism, rather than sycophancy, should define their response.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era