Swedish Politicians Want to Fill the National Piggy Bank With Bitcoin—Will It Happen?

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This week, the stately halls of Swedish government echoed with a brand-new cry: “Bitcoin, ho!” Two lawmakers, Dennis Dioukarev (who sounds like someone who wouldn’t say no to a brisk round of crypto speculation after lunch) and Rickard Nordin, dusted off their fountain pens and dashed off impassioned entreaties to Finance Minister Elisabeth Svantesson. The gist? Sweden should embrace Bitcoin like a long-lost IKEA instruction manual and wedge it firmly into the nation’s piggy bank.

Dioukarev, exhibiting the spirit of a man who once bit his tongue on a sour herring but has since decided to live dangerously, submitted a missive on April 14 suggesting Sweden start stockpiling confiscated Bitcoin. The logic is simple: if you can’t beat the Bitcoiners, at least nab their loot and call it fiscal policy. Why let the U.S. have all the fun inventing new ways to fill the national coffers post-heist? 🇸🇪

“The world’s catching on to this Bitcoin lark,” Dioukarev intoned (one imagines with a flourish), prodding the finance ministry to leap aboard the bandwagon before it turns into a runaway train.

Nordin, not wishing to be left out of the Scandinavian crypto shenanigans, scribbled his own letter on April 8. He gently suggested it was time to stop polishing Sweden’s gold bars long enough to notice that the rest of the world was swapping bullion for blockchain.

“Has anyone in government tried turning the Riksbank off and on again, only to discover Bitcoin in the reserves folder?” Nordin queried. He’s keen for the minister to allow Sweden’s central bank to join the Bitcoin bonanza and—presumably—enjoy the wild rollercoaster ride that comes with it. 🎢

Nordin thinks Bitcoin isn’t just useful for fending off inflation; it’s also an ace up the sleeve for activists, dissidents, and, presumably, the occasional stand-up comedian tired of being censored by central banks. “Look, it’s a payment system that laughs in the face of censors!” Nordin points out, conveniently ignoring the fact that its sense of humor can be rather volatile.

As for funding this bold new reserve, Nordin suggests a move so frugal it would impress even a Swedish grandmother: grab whatever Bitcoin is confiscated by the authorities and simply don’t sell it. Voilà—reserve achieved, and not a single krona splashed on fancy crypto exchanges.

He pointed with enthusiasm towards the U.S., where an impressive pile of Bitcoin was gathered not with hard-earned taxpayer funds, but by hoovering up everything left behind in digital wallets seized by law enforcement. Clever Americans, always thinking one step ahead (or three steps sideways).

Before Trump swaggered back into the Oval Office and started ordering up Bitcoin with the same gusto as cheeseburgers, the notion of a national Bitcoin reserve was mostly confined to the fevered dreams of cryptocurrency fans and the occasional overly caffeinated think tank resident. Now, it’s all the rage—at least in government memos.

Europe’s not immune to this Bitcoiny brainwave: the Czech central bank governor, Aleš Michl, has been pondering Bitcoin as a diversification tool (because what’s financial policy without a little chaos?), while French Parliament Member Sarah Knafo is all for swapping central bank digital currencies for a little BTC under the nation’s mattress.

Of course, not everyone’s convinced. Down under in Australia, the response was a firm “No thanks, mate.” The Albanese government is coolly focused on regulation, not accumulation—which is code for “We’d rather not risk explaining to grandma why her pension disappeared during a Bitcoin crash.” 🙃

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2025-04-15 11:45