Mammonism

In the beginning, there was no money—only barter. Farmers, fishermen, and weavers exchanged goods directly to meet their needs. Over time, standard exchange ratios were established: three pounds of grain for two pounds of fish, or a foot of cloth. But barter was inefficient. A farmer might want fish, a fisherman might want cloth, and a weaver might want grain. This mismatch led to the invention of money—a universal medium that simplified trade.

At first, money took the form of widely desired goods like salt, cattle, or silk. People converted their products into these universally accepted items, then traded them for what they needed. A pound of salt, for example, could be exchanged for a foot of cloth, two pounds of fish, or three pounds of grain—based on the labor embedded in each. Eventually, precious metals became the dominant form of money due to their rarity, durability, portability, and divisibility.

Yet even metal coins proved cumbersome. Since money merely represents value, it need not be physical. Paper—lighter and more convenient—replaced metal. Later, electronic transactions rendered paper obsolete, giving rise to digital currency: numbers stored on computers and smartphones. Thus, money has evolved from a tangible good to a digital figure—an immaterial abstraction that has become the object of modern pursuit.

This transformation conceals a deeper illusion. Money is not wealth itself. Printing money cannot make a nation richer. When a country over-issues currency, its value erodes. Without real products to anchor them, these numbers lose meaning—they become empty symbols, detached from substance.

In the beginning, wealth accumulation was limited. Physical goods couldn’t be stored in large quantities, so trade primarily met immediate, everyday needs. But money changed that. Unlike perishable goods, money could be hoarded, saved, and passed down through generations. With money, people could buy what they wanted—leading to the belief that money was the true form of wealth. Some quickly realized they could make money without producing anything, simply by positioning themselves as intermediaries. Trade shifted from a matter of survival to a mechanism for building wealth. Once they had amassed enough capital, enterprising individuals began founding banks, using money itself to generate more money. Over time, the most astute minds abandoned manufacturing altogether, turning instead to commerce and finance—profiting by reselling others’ goods or manipulating financial instruments like loans and stocks.

Economic theories—mercantilism, financialism, neoliberalism—were crafted to justify this shift, promoting the idea that the purpose of economy is to generate profit, that markets alone should drive this process, and that trade and finance offer the fastest paths to wealth. Based on these theories, advanced countries started to outsource manufacturing to cheaper labor markets, redirecting their focus toward more lucrative trade and financial sectors. This shift transformed production-based economies into ones dominated by commerce and finance. The resulting deindustrialization poses serious risks: it leaves nations vulnerable to foreign supply chains and, in times of war or embargo, reveals the harsh truth that neither trade nor financial instruments can substitute for actual production capacity.

The pursuit of profit through trade opens the door to exploitation. Gains for one often come at another’s expense. Employers profit by underpaying workers whose labor generates far more value than their wages reflect. Wall Street thrives on complex instruments that exploit small investors. Insurance companies profit from low-risk clients. Pharmaceutical firms inflate drug prices; hospitals charge exorbitantly for basic care.

I once visited a hospital for a minor skin condition. I was referred to a general practitioner, then to a lab, and finally to a dermatologist—who diagnosed eczema without even reviewing the test results. The prescribed cream cost $30 and worked. Yet the hospital bill totaled $800.

This way, while the nation's physical wealth does not increase, some people can make a lot of money through unfair trade. This practice undermines the core principle in trade. A fair exchange reflects the equivalent amounts of labor involved in producing the products. Because the exchange ratios of all products are interconnected, when one rises unjustifiably, it triggers a chain reaction of inflation—houses, cars, groceries, services—all become more expensive. The burden falls on honest working people. In today's America, 63% of the population cannot afford an unexpected $500 bill, while a tiny elite amasses unimaginable wealth from a rigged system.

Greed knows no bounds. Most crimes—whether detected or not—are driven by money. Even noble professions like education, medicine, and journalism have become profit-driven. Yet money respects no morality. Those who exploit others cleverly are rewarded; honest workers are left behind. As fairness erodes, so does the motivation for genuine labor, giving rise to moral decay and opportunism.

Once, a single income could support a family. Now, women must work alongside men to maintain the same standard of living. Feminists may celebrate this as empowerment, but in truth, it resembles coerced labor. As one woman put it: "More and more women work extremely hard to make money now. Society offers us less and less security. Security used to mean commitment and a helping hand crossing the street. Now it means money in your wallet and a fully charged phone. We dreamed of marrying men, only to become men ourselves."

When a society measures success by capital gains, allows oligarchs to hoard money, lets them influence laws and policies, grants them legal privileges, and exalts them as role models, the outcome is inevitable: a culture obsessed with getting rich quick. Corruption spreads. Inequality deepens. Society fractures. Natural resources are depleted, the environment ravaged, and the state becomes a cartel controlled by capital and special interests. Politicians grow ever more corrupt and shameless.

Capitalism—driven by greed and profit—may initially spur economic growth, but it ultimately leads to decay, corruption, and collapse. When an economy prioritizes profit over production, when it outsources manufacturing to cut costs, when it sacrifices quality for profit—as Boeing has shown, when it relies more on financial manipulation than on producing goods, when its main components are no longer farmers and industrial workers but bankers, consultants, and lawyers, when its GDP comes primarily from the service and financial sectors rather than production, collapse is not a question of if, but when.

Capitalism is the cancer of the modern world, which turns people into slaves to money. When money was invented, no one foresaw it would lead to such profound alienation. How to break free from this vicious cycle remains one of the most urgent questions facing modern thinkers. (See America Is in Big Truoble.)