Money is the probably the most successful story ever told. It has no objective value... but then you have these master storytellers: the big bankers, the finance ministers... and they come, and they tell a very convincing story.

The story we all agreed to believe

Money works because we all agreed it would. There's nothing inherently valuable about a piece of paper or a number in a bank account—it's pure collective belief. The genius is that this story is so deeply embedded in how we live that we forget it's a story at all. We treat money like it's as real as gravity, when really it's more like a language we all decided to speak.

What makes this tricky in modern life is that the people best at telling this story—central bankers, financial institutions, politicians—have enormous power precisely because they understand it's a story. When they speak with authority about economic health or market confidence, they're not just describing reality; they're actively shaping it. And because most of us never learned to see money as the constructed narrative it is, we can't easily question whether the current plot serves us well.

The unsettling part? Once you see money this way, you start noticing other stories we treat as inevitable. The ones that actually shape our lives—what success means, what's possible, who deserves what—often rest on equally flimsy foundations. But unlike money, we rarely have master storytellers explicitly selling those to us. We just absorb them.