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The mortgage crisis.

The bad mortgages that got the current financial crisis started have produced a terrifying wave of home foreclosures. Unless the foreclosure surge eases, even the most extravagant federal stimulus spending won't spur an economic recovery.

The Obama Administration is expected within the next few weeks to announce an initiative of $50 billion or more to help strapped homeowners. But with 1 million residences having fallen into foreclosure since 2006, and an additional 5.9 million expected over the next four years, the Obama plan -- whatever its details -- can't possibly do the job by itself. Lenders and investors will have to acknowledge huge losses and figure out how to keep recession-wracked borrowers making at least some monthly payments.

So far the industry hasn't shown that kind of foresight. One reason foreclosures are so rampant is that banks and their advocates in Washington have delayed, diluted, and obstructed attempts to address the problem. Industry lobbyists are still at it today, working overtime to whittle down legislation backed by President Obama that would give bankruptcy courts the authority to shrink mortgage debt. Lobbyists say they will fight to restrict the types of loans the bankruptcy proposal covers and new powers granted to judges.

The industry strategy all along has been to buy time and thwart regulation, financial-services lobbyists tell Business Week . "We were like the Dutch boy with his finger in the dike," says one business advocate who, like several colleagues, insists on anonymity, fearing career damage. Some admit that, in retrospect, their clients, which include Bank of America , Citigroup , and JPMorgan Chase, would have been better off had they agreed two years ago to address foreclosures systematically rather than pin their hopes on an unlikely housing rebound.

In public, financial institutions insist they've done their best to prevent foreclosures. Most argue that giving bankruptcy courts increased clout, known as cramdown authority, would reward irresponsible borrowers and result in higher borrowing costs. "What we're trying to do now is target the bill to make it as narrow as possible," says Scott Talbott, a lobbyist for the Financial Services Roundtable. On the defensive, the industry nevertheless benefits from one strain of popular opinion that home buyers who took on risky mortgages -- even if the industry pushed those loans -- don't deserve to be rescued.

An Industry In Denial

However the skirmish ends, the industry's contention that it has done as much as possible to limit foreclosures seems hollow. Some statistics it cites appear to be exaggerated. Even pro-industry figures such as Steven C. Preston, a Republican businessman who headed the Housing & Urban Development Dept. late in the Bush Administration, concede that many lenders have dragged their heels. "The industry still has not stepped up to the volume of the problem," Preston says. One program, Hope for Homeowners -- which Bush officials and banks promised last fall would shield 400,000 families from foreclosure -- has so far produced only 25 refinanced loans.

Meanwhile, an already glutted market sinks beneath the weight of more foreclosed homes. Borrowers whose equity has evaporated have nothing to tap into if the recession costs them their jobs. Some lawmakers and regulators are calling for a foreclosure moratorium. "People are falling through the cracks," Preston says. "That's bad for communities, bad for the individuals losing their homes, and bad for investors."

Foreclosure proceedings typically cost banks about 50% of a property's value. That's assuming the home can be resold -- not a certainty when empty houses multiply in a neighborhood.

Some from the industry denied a foreclosure problem existed, including Sandor E. Samuels, at the time chief legal officer of subprime giant Countrywide Financial. They vowed to continue selling loans with enticing introductory rates as well as those requiring minimal evidence of borrowers' income. "We are going to keep making these loans until the last second they are legal," Samuels later told a fellow participant.

A major reason financial institutions and investors are so determined to avoid modifying loan terms more aggressively has to do with accounting nuances, say industry lobbyists. If, for example, a bank lowered the balance of a certain mortgage, there would be a strong argument that it would have to reduce the value on its balance sheet of all similar mortgages in the same geographic area to reflect the danger that the region had hit an economic slump. Under this stringent approach, financial industry mortgage-related losses could far surpass even the grim $1.1 trillion estimated by Goldman Sachs in January. A desire to postpone this devastating situation helps explain lenders' intransigence, says Rick Sharga, vice-president of marketing at RealtyTrac, an Irvine (Calif.) firm that analyzes foreclosure patterns.

There's reason for skepticism. Federal banking regulators reported in December 2008 that fully 53% of consumers receiving loan modifications were again delinquent on their mortgages after six months. Alan M. White, a law professor at Valparaiso University, says the re-default rates are high because modifications often lead to higher rather than lower payments. An analysis White did of a sample of 21,219 largely subprime mortgages modified in November 2008 found that only 35% of the cases resulted in lower payments. In 18%, payments stayed the same; in the remaining 47%, they rose. The reason for this strange result: Lenders and loan servicers are tacking on missed payments, taxes, and big fees to borrowers' monthly bills.

Consider the case of Ocbaselassie Kelete, a 41-year-old immigrant from Eritrea who called Hope Now last fall. Kelete, a naturalized U.S. citizen, bought a $540,000 townhouse in Hayward, Calif., in November 2006 with no down payment and 100% financing from First Franklin Financial, a subprime unit of Merrill Lynch. At the time, he and his wife earned $108,000 a year from his two jobs, with a pharmacy and an office-cleaning service, and hers as a janitor. Kelete says First Franklin and his realtor convinced him that he could afford a pair of mortgages, one with a 7.5% initial rate that would rise after three years, and a second with a fixed 12% rate. His monthly payment would total $3,600.

"Work With Me"

"The realtor said, 'Just make sacrifices for two years. Home prices will go up, and you can refinance at a lower rate,' " Kelete recalls. He regrets signing a mortgage he couldn't afford -- a mistake many people made during the subprime craze. Home prices didn't go up. He lost his office-cleaning job. First Franklin modified his loans, but added on property taxes it had failed to collect earlier. Kelete's monthly bill rose to $3,900. In October 2008, he called Hope Now. A counselor set up a conference call with First Franklin. The lender's representative said Kelete should get another job or give up the house, the borrower says. Kelete responded that he'd already lost his second job cleaning offices and couldn't find another in a faltering California economy. "Why don't you work with me?" he asked First Franklin. The lender declined. The Hope Now counselor said there was nothing more to do. "Foreclosure is the only future I see," Kelete says. A spokesman for BofA, which acquired Merrill in December, declined to comment, citing the borrower's privacy. After Business Week's inquiries, however, First Franklin contacted Kelete about lowering his monthly payments.

Hope Now's Schwartz acknowledges she is fighting an uphill battle. By her calculation, 45% of the borrowers her organization advises still end up in foreclosure. "If I seem frustrated," she says, "it's because we are dealing with nothing but an exploding problem." She has a fulltime staff of four in Washington; 500 counselors participate in the industry-funded hotline. "You shouldn't take it lightly, what we have achieved," Schwartz says. She bristles at suggestions that the statistics she disseminates are misleading. "I print what I know," she says, noting that some of her bank members aren't forthcoming about loan modifications. "It's like herding and juggling cats."

By early 2008 it was obvious that Hope Now wasn't halting a significant percentage of foreclosures.

In the end, the program included stiff upfront and annual fees and a requirement that homeowners pay the government 50% of any future appreciation in the property's value -- all of which made it much less attractive to borrowers. Moreover, the banks' participation was made entirely voluntary; there was no way to pressure them to cooperate.

Congress approved Hope for Homeowners on July 26, 2008, as part of a larger measure imposing restrictions on the mortgage finance firms Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.

Those familiar with Hope for Homeowners anticipated that its fine print would discourage all but a few borrowers. "We knew it was likely to have limited appeal," says Preston, the former secretary of HUD, which oversees the FHA. George Miller, executive director of the American Securitization Forum, a Wall Street trade group, calls the program and its 25 refinanced loans "useless" because of the onerous details.

In the first days of 2009 it appeared that progress might be possible on a different front. A slumping Citigroup came back to the Treasury Dept. for a second round of bailout money. Bowing to pressure from regulators, Citi broke ranks with its rivals and dropped its opposition to bankruptcy cramdown.

In the following weeks, banking lobbyists launched a renewed attack on the cramdown legislation. Apart from Citi, "the industry remains united in that bankruptcy cramdown would destabilize the market" by creating widespread uncertainty about the value of numerous troubled mortgages, says Steve O'Connor, senior vice-president for government relations at the Mortgage Bankers Assn. His group is distributing talking points to key congressional aides laying out reasons why "Congress should defeat bankruptcy reform legislation." 

Stefanie and James Smith of Santa Clarita, Calif., fear they may need the help of a bankruptcy court if they are to keep the subdivision home they bought for $579,000 in November 2005. Stefanie, 37, a university human resources coordinator, and James, 40, a federal law enforcement agent, borrowed the entire amount in two subprime loans that required a total monthly payment of $3,000. A representative of their lender, Countrywide, told them not to worry, says Stefanie: They would be able to refinance in a year.

By mid-2007 they were running late on payments, and refinancing options had dried up. With their monthly bill scheduled to jump to more than $4,000 this January due to a rising mortgage rate, Stefanie contacted Countrywide last summer. She asked for a loan modification so they could avoid default. In December the lender said it would be willing to increase their payment by $600. That was better than the scheduled rise of $1,100, so the Smiths agreed.

But now they are struggling to pay the higher amount. Countrywide's parent, BofA, declined to comment, citing the Smiths' privacy. After Business Week's questions, though, Countrywide called them to discuss cutting their payments.

"We knew when we bought that the payments would be a stretch," says Stefanie. She regrets assuming they would be able to refinance at a lower rate. "We are not deadbeats," she adds. "All we want is a mortgage we can afford."