Gregory Gundersen’s The Hierarchy of Money is the clearest village allegory I have read of how modern money actually works. Gray stones become banknotes become reserves become a reserve currency become fiat. Every step is forced by the same problem: you cannot settle a debt by making another promise at the same level, so a layer above appears.
The allegory is true of the system we have. It is incomplete in one place. It treats the stones as Commodity money, and everything above them as promises. It never names the third kind.
Money comes in three kinds, not two. That is the argument of The Missing Monetary Element. The Alberta Buck is what the third kind looks like when civilians, not banks, do the issuing.
You buy it. Gold, wheat, Bitcoin. You hold the money instead of the thing you gave up. Supply is scarcity.
Someone lends you money they already have. Their balance sheet shrinks: cash out, a receivable in. Interest pays for time and risk. Your uncle. A pension fund. A bond.
Issued against attested, insured wealth the owner keeps. Nothing sold, nothing lent. Gold-standard notes, elevator receipts, bank deposits, BUCKs. The ledger grows on both sides.
Bank deposits are Claim money billed as Credit. A mortgage is two contracts with one signature: a pledge (lien against a deposit — the money event, complete without interest) and a note (amortize, pay interest, forfeit on default — where every dollar of bank profit comes from). The BUCK is the pledge without the note.
On the left, Gundersen’s stone village, in his words. On the right the story starts in the same place — a scarce metal from a riverbed, used as money — and then takes a different path. A BUCK begins as one standard ounce of gold. The first bank holds gold and issues paper. The banks that follow are not lenders of the widow’s ounces: they are groups of farmers, ranchers, cobblers who underwrite, insure, and value their own stock in gold BUCKs, and issue paper up to two-thirds of that stock — a lien on insured collateral worth more than the liability, plus a carrying fee of two percent a year on the issuance limit. Interest appears only when someone has used that two-thirds and must borrow BUCKs someone else already holds: a separate loan, priced for risk and loss of use.
Over the mountains the same structure appears in other units: NRGY (one unit of energy), FOOD (one standard meal), LABOR (one standard hour), METAL (one standard unit of metals), WOOD (one unit of wood). When the stone world is inventing fiat, these villages meet and redefine one BUCK as a basket of all six. Every bank keeps the same pledged wealth, the same underwriting, the same insurance, the same two-thirds — now measured in a shared unit.
One BUCK, by the end of the story, is a basket of six: not the goods themselves, but a unit in which member-banks already know how to value, insure, and issue against wealth. Until that conference, each village measures in its own commodity. After it, the backing does not change. The ruler does.
Read down for the story. Read across for the difference.
Intermediation
Money
Stone village
Money. The villagers are tired of bartering. The dairy farmer wants to buy corn, even when he does not have milk to trade, and the corn farmer wants to buy meat, even when the butcher does not want corn. So they decide that special gray stones that they can collect from a nearby riverbed will represent an abstract unit of value, called money. They reason that if everyone uses stones to represent value, then people can transact when they would like, rather than when both parties are willing and able to barter. The villagers have abstracted value.
Basket village
Money. The villagers are tired of bartering. The dairy farmer wants corn when he has no milk, and the corn farmer wants meat when the butcher wants no corn. Across the pass they do what the stone village does, with a metal from a riverbed. They walk an hour outside of town and sift the gravel for gold, and they agree that one standard ounce will be one BUCK. Everything in the village — milk, corn, boots, a day’s hire — is priced in ounces. Anyone who holds a BUCK holds an ounce, or a claim that will be settled in ounces. They have abstracted value, just as the stone villagers did. At this stage a BUCK is Commodity money: you obtain it by panning, or by selling something for gold you do not keep.
Supply
Stone village
Supply. The villagers picked special gray stones to be money because the stones were portable, durable, and most importantly hard to collect. The only way to get them was to walk an hour outside of town and spend all day sifting through the riverbed. Sometimes, a villager would do this and only find one or two special stones. And so like any other job—winemaking, farming, cobbling—the job of collecting stones was self-regulated by the value of the activity. If the villagers collected too many stones, like they did after a flood cut open a new seam of special stones in the riverbed, then the cost of goods would go up and the relative value of stones, and thus collecting them, would go down. Or vice versa. So the villagers decided that anyone could collect stones, just as anyone could forage for berries or dye cloth. More or fewer people would do it as demand changed.
Basket village
Supply. They picked gold for the same reasons the others picked gray stones: portable, durable, and hard to collect from the riverbed. A day sifting the gravel might yield an ounce, or two, or none. Panning is a job, like farming or cobbling, and it is self-regulated by the value of the activity. If a flood cuts open a new seam of gold in the riverbed and ounces flood the village, the cost of goods in BUCKs goes up and the relative value of a day’s panning goes down, so fewer people pan. Or vice versa. Anyone may pan, just as anyone may forage or dye cloth. More or fewer people do it as demand changes. The supply of gold BUCKs is still a riverbed. That will matter, and then it will matter less.
Debt
Stone village
Debt. The rancher has a problem with money. He raises cows, but this takes a long time, much longer than it takes the dairy farmer to gather fresh eggs. He must go long periods of time without earning more stones. So the villagers decide that some people can simply pay for goods later. The two parties just record the details of the trade on a piece of paper and settle up later. The person who owes money is said to have debt, while the person who is owed money is said to have credit. For example, the woman who owns the general store in town is happy to let the rancher buy on credit, since she has known him since they were both children. However, she does not sell on credit to strangers or to people who do not pay their debts.
Basket village
Debt. The rancher has the same problem. Cows take longer than eggs. He must go long stretches without earning ounces. So some people pay later: they record the trade on paper and settle up in BUCKs when the herd is sold. The rancher has debt; the store owner has credit. She is happy to do this because she has known him since they were children. She does not do it for strangers, or for people who do not pay. This is Credit money: she parts with goods, or with ounces she already has, and waits. Nothing new has been issued. The gold is still in the riverbed or in someone’s jar.
Interest
Stone village
Interest. While the general store owner is happy for the rancher to buy on credit, the shoemaker is not. He too trusts the rancher, but he wants money now to expand his business. Since the shoemaker would not be paid in stones for a year—it takes a long time to raise a cow—, the shoemaker cannot use that money to buy new tools or hire an assistant in the meantime. Having stones today is better than having stones in a year. So the shoemaker makes a deal with the rancher: the rancher can have boots today but pay for them in a year; however, rather than paying one hundred stones for the new boots, the rancher must pay one hundred and five stones. The extra five stones are for the lost value of not having money sooner. The villagers like this idea and adopt it. Soon, all debt is repaid with excess stones, which the villagers call interest. The villagers have created the time-value of money.
Basket village
Interest. The shoemaker trusts the rancher too, but he wants ounces now, to buy tools and hire an assistant. Boots today against payment in a year means he does without his money while a cow grows. Having BUCKs today is better than having them in a year. So the rancher can have the boots, but he must pay one hundred and five ounces for what would have been one hundred. The extra five are for the lost value of not having gold sooner. The villagers adopt the idea. Soon, delayed payment is repaid with extra ounces, which they call interest. They have created the time-value of money — the time-value of someone else’s ounces. That will stay honest, later, only when someone actually parts with BUCKs they already hold.
Bank
Stone village
Bank. The rancher still has a problem. He can buy on credit from the general store and from the shoemaker, but most stores in town will not lend to him, since they do not know or trust him. One entrepreneur in the village wonders about this problem. He notices that the rancher needs to buy on credit, but none of the stores he needs to buy from will lend, while the widow across town keeps a hundred stones in a jar in her cupboard, but has no friends who need the money. The entrepreneur has a clever idea. First, he borrows the stones from the widow, and he promises to return them in one year with an interest of three stones. And then he lends these stones to the rancher, on the condition that the rancher pays him five stones of interest in a year. The business plan is to make the spread, two stones, in a year’s time. This works because the entrepreneur knows both the widow and the rancher. Over time, word spreads, and many villagers who want to borrow or lend come to him. The entrepreneur calls his business a bank. The bank is very profitable, and over time, many banks pop up in the village.
Basket village
Bank. The rancher can still find shops that will not wait, and the widow across town still has a hundred ounces in a jar and no neighbour who needs them. An entrepreneur does exactly what the stone-village entrepreneur does. He borrows the widow’s gold, promises three ounces of interest, lends the ounces to the rancher at five, and lives on the spread. He holds the gold in a storehouse. He calls the business a bank. Word spreads; more such banks appear.
Then the path splits. The banks that last, and the ones the cobblers and the farmers actually join, are not lenders of the widow’s ounces. A group of farmers, ranchers, cobblers — people who already hold stock — agree to underwrite one another, to insure the stock, and to value it in gold BUCKs. The member-bank may then issue paper BUCKs up to two-thirds of that insured stock. The cows stay in the pasture; the leather stays in the shop. The paper is a claim on the pool of pledged, insured wealth, not a loan of the widow’s jar. The remaining third is the cushion: the collateral is worth more than the liability, so a price drop or a bad season does not break the claim. For this issuance the member pays a carrying fee of two percent a year on the issuance limit — the two-thirds — whether the paper is spent or sitting. That fee is storage: underwriting, insurance, the ledger. It is not interest. If a member has already issued to two-thirds, and still needs BUCKs, then he borrows paper someone else already holds — a loan, with interest proportional to risk and to loss of use. Until then there is no one to pay for money that was never lent. Two monetary events, named as two.
Balance
Stone village
Balance. Eventually, the entrepreneur is borrowing and lending from so many people that there is no correspondance of one person’s lent stones to another person’s debt. At the end of the year, when the widow asks for her money back, the entrepreneur goes into his storehouse to fetch some stones he hasn’t yet lent and gives them to her. He does not even know if they are the stones repaid by the rancher or not, but it does not matter. He even starts letting customers ask for their stones back whenever they would like, to encourage more people to deposit stones. However, this creates a problem: the number of stones in the banker’s storehouse tells him very little. If someone lends him five hundred stones, and then he lends four hundred of those, he will have one hundred stones in his storehouse. But this is a very different situation than the one in which someone simply deposits a hundred stones. So the banker begins to track two lists. On one list, he records everything the bank owns or is owed: the stones in the storehouse and the debt owed by borrowers. He calls these his assets. On the other list, he records everything the bank owes to others, namely deposits. He calls these liabilities. When a villager deposits fifty stones, the banker records fifty stones in liabilities and fifty stones in assets. He calls these two lists his balance sheet, since the bank’s assets must equal its liabilities. Counting his stones in his storehouse only tells him what he has now; his balance sheet tells him what he is owed and what he has promised.
Basket village
Balance. The gold-warehouse banker still needs two lists, just as in the stone village. Assets: ounces in the storehouse, and debts owed by borrowers. Liabilities: ounces owed to the widow and the other depositors. Counting the till tells him what he has now; the sheet tells him what he is owed and what he has promised.
The member-bank’s lists also balance, but they balance on the pledge. Assets: liens on members’ stock — attested, insured, valued in gold BUCKs at more than the paper outstanding, so the extra is a buffer — and any ounces in the till. Liabilities: the paper BUCKs issued, never more than two-thirds of that stock. When a rancher pledges a herd worth three hundred ounces, the bank may issue two hundred in paper. The sheet grows on both sides: a lien on insured collateral, and a deposit. That is issuance, and it is complete. A carrying fee of two percent a year runs on the two-hundred issuance limit, not on a loaned amount. There is no schedule, and no forfeiture for missing one, because there is no principal repayment to miss. If the rancher later wants a calendar to restore the deposit so the lien can lift on a date, that is a separate bond: principal that happens to match the deposit liability, plus interest on whatever was actually lent. After the money goes out, did the intermediary’s asset side shrink? That is Credit — the widow’s ounces. Did it grow on both sides, against a lien on insured collateral worth more than the liability? That is Claim money. Mixing the two sheets — writing a deposit against an intention to repay, then calling the intention a loan — is how a warehouse bank can look as if it had lent what a member-bank merely issued.
Illiquidity
Stone village
Illiquidity. One morning, the teacher walks by his bank and notices a queue. The bank isn’t even open yet. He asks around, and the people in line say that they heard a rumor that this bank had been lending aggressively and even made some bad loans. Those in line didn’t want their stones to go missing, so they were about to pull their money out. The teacher thinks about it, and decides to wait in line too. By the time the bank opens, there is a very large line. The banker panics. He dutifully gives out all the stones that he can, but eventually he runs out of stones in his storehouse, and there is still a line of people demanding their stones. The banker is frustrated. He knows that his balance sheet balances! He is owed many stones from various villagers. But he does not have the stones now. He does everything he can. For example, the winemaker is late to repay a debt, but the banker and the winemaker are friends, so the banker has allowed the debt to persist. Now the banker forces the winemaker to sell her wine early, at a discount, in order to be repaid today. By nightfall, he asks the remaining villagers to come back the next morning. Then he goes to to another banker in town, the owner of a much larger bank with more stones, and he sells them his balance sheet at a discount. For example, one villager owes the banker two hundred stones in one year’s time. The banker is only able to sell this loan for one hundred and fifty stones, because the larger bank knows he is in trouble. And thus, the smaller bank is forced to close, and the bigger bank assumes his assets and his liabilities. The next morning, the larger bank starts giving money to any depositer that wants their money back, but people stop panicking once they realize the larger bank is the backstop. However, because of this panic, wealth in the village is destroyed. The winemaker was forced to sell good wine at a discount, and the small banker was forced to sell his good debt at a discount.
Basket village
Illiquidity. A rumor can still form a queue at the warehouse bank, because that bank promised the widow her ounces back on demand while lending them for a year. Solvent, not liquid: the old story. The winemaker is forced to sell good wine at a discount. Wealth is destroyed.
The member-bank does not have this run. A holder of paper BUCKs cannot present them at the rancher’s gate and demand a cow, or at the till and demand an ounce the bank never claimed to warehouse for him. The paper is a claim on the pool of pledged, insured stock, issued at two-thirds, and only the issuer retires it. If the herd is healthy and insured, the backing is intact even if every shop is busy spending paper. Panic that forces a fire sale is what happens when settlement requires ounces you lent out of a box. When an asset is actually destroyed, the insurer pays — that is what the premiums were for — and the two-thirds cap still has a third of cushion behind it. The larger warehouse bank can still backstop a smaller one. That is a Credit-market service. It is not required to keep paper BUCKs from vanishing in a morning.
Speculation
Stone village
Speculation. The bankers realize that their business model is inherently fragile due to this timing mismatch: villagers can ask for their deposited stones back before the bank earns back its loans plus interest. If all the depositers were to do this at once, the bank would simply run out of stones. So different bankers experiment with different banking models. For example, one banker does not make money by collecting a spread. Rather, she safekeeps peoples money and charges them interest to do so. Another banker only allows people to withdraw their deposited stones at fixed times, giving him time to ensure he has had some of his loans repaid in order to match the outflowing stones. However, the original banker’s business model is the most popular, because people get paid to store their money and can withdraw it as they wish. Most villagers are happy to accept the risk of a bank running out of money in exchange for being paid interest while still being able to withdraw their money at any time. Much like planting corn is a speculative investment—one could pay money for seed and yield no crop—the villagers realize that depositing money at the bank is a kind of speculative investment. But they are happy to take this risk because they expect to get paid interest.
Basket village
Speculation. The warehouse bankers have the same fragile timing: villagers can ask for deposited ounces before loans come back. Different bankers try safekeeping for a fee, or fixed withdrawal dates. The popular model still pays people to leave ounces in the box and lets them withdraw at will, so depositing there remains a speculation, like planting corn.
Holding member-bank paper is a different speculation. You are not owed ounces from a vault that lent them. You hold a claim issued at two-thirds of insured stock that the members still have and still use. If you want a return, you lend idle paper to someone who is already at their two-thirds — Credit, with interest — or you put the paper to work. You are not paid to take a run on a box of gold. The member-bank’s risk is underwriting: did they value the stock honestly, and is the insurer good? That is a real risk. It is not the widow’s queue at dawn.
Creation
Payment
Stone village
Payment. At first, the banking business model was to collect a spread between the interest banks paid on deposited stones and the interest banks collected on lent stones. However, over time, the banks became trusted intermediaries for day-to-day payments. For example, imagine that the carpenter wants to buy goods from various merchants. He does not want to cart his stones around all day. This is heavy and dangerous. So instead, he goes to the bank, hands over some stones, and the bank gives him a paper note indicating that the bank is good for those stones. The bankers called these banknotes. Various shops in town were originally skeptical of this scheme; they thought that banknotes were not money but only the promise of money. But over time, they liked the system too, because they did not have to keep as many stones in the back rooms of shops. Everyone could transact with banknotes, and simply exchange them for stones when needed.
Basket village
Payment. At first the warehouse banks collect a spread on ounces. Then, as in the stone village, they become payment intermediaries. The carpenter does not want to cart gold all day. He takes ounces to the bank; the bank gives him a paper note that the bank is good for those ounces. Shops are skeptical: paper is not gold. Over time they like it, because they need not keep ounces in the back room.
The member-banks skip a step. Their paper was never a warehouse ticket for a particular pile of ounces. It was already a claim on pledged, insured stock, issued at two-thirds. Shops accept it because they can spend it this afternoon, or present it at any member-bank of the same village, which will take it at par — at par, because no note is a claim on its own cow. The carpenter may still keep a ledger so he need not carry even the paper. That ledger is a record of claims, not a mule-train of metal.
Settlement
Stone village
Settlement. This new payment system worked extremely well, because now villagers can buy things when they need them, rather than when they have stones, and they can buy at nearly every shop in the village using debt or banknotes, because the debtor is a trusted third-party, a bank. However, the banks realized something odd: they often become each other’s creditors without trying. For example, imagine that the architect banks at Athena Bank and the zoologist banks at Zeus Bank. When the architect buys from the zoologist, she gives the zoologist a banknote from Athena. The zoologist then goes to exchange this banknote for stones at Athena Bank. But this is a hassle. Now the zoologist has to walk his stones from Athena to Zeus. The zoologist would rather have Athena just deposit the stones directly at Zeus, but Athena cannot do this, as it would require manipulating Zeus’s balance sheet. So instead, the banks decide that the zoologist can deposit the architect’s banknote directly at the zoologist’s own bank, and then Zeus will collect the debt from Athena. The banks call this scheme gross settlement. However, for a brief moment, Zeus is inadvertently a creditor to Athena, because it creates a deposit for the zoologist before it has the architect’s stones from Athena. Zeus is loaning Athena stones, as an artifact of who pays who in the village. So the banks hire the fastest kids in town to run stones between banks. They settle these incidental, transient debts as fast as possible.
Basket village
Settlement. The architect banks at Athena, the zoologist at Zeus. When she pays him, she hands him Athena paper. If both banks are member-banks issuing the same gold-BUCKs against insured stock, Zeus does not need to walk ounces from Athena’s vault. The zoologist deposits the note at Zeus; Zeus collects from Athena. Gross settlement is a book entry. For a brief moment Zeus is Athena’s creditor, as in the stone village — but what it is owed is paper BUCKs, which Athena can be good for without emptying a box of gold, provided Athena’s members still have unused room under two-thirds. If they do, Athena issues against that unused pledged capacity to settle with Zeus. The obligation stays inside Athena’s own insured balance sheet. The kids who ran stones between banks were solving a Commodity-money problem the member-banks declined to create.
Residual
Stone village
Residual. Gross settlement is appealing because it is simple. Athena Bank knows the architect, and Zeus Bank knows the zoologist. Every banknote is settled immediately after the transaction, by stone runners. Neither bank is touching the other bank’s balance sheet, and the zoologist himself does nothing. His stones stay within the banking system. But the banks have problems with this system. First, it is costly, time-consuming, and dangerous to transport stones constantly. And second, it is terribly inefficient. In one day, Athena might transfer ten thousand stones to Zeus, while Zeus transfers eight thousand stones to Athena. It would be better if they netted, if Athena simply transferred two thousand stones. So the banks agree: at the end of each day, the bankers will convene and settle all debts by netting their transactions. They call this nightly meeting scheme net debt settlement and the net payment the residual. At the end of the day, Athena might transfer only five stones to Zeus, but this residual payment says nothing about the day’s transactions. It could mask hundreds of transactions between its customers.
Basket village
Residual. Netting is still intelligent. If Athena’s customers paid Zeus’s customers ten thousand BUCKs and Zeus’s paid Athena’s eight thousand, they settle two thousand. They call this the residual. It says nothing about the day’s trade except the imbalance. It does not require a nightly wagon of ounces. Athena covers the two thousand from unused issuance room against members’ pledged, insured stock — still inside two-thirds, still on Athena’s own sheet. If the residual is five BUCKs, five BUCKs move. The cost, time, and danger of transporting gold was a problem of settling in a scarce object. Member-banks settling in paper they are already allowed to issue do not have it. The nightly meeting is an accounting close.
Deferral
Stone village
Deferral. One night, the bank leaders convene to settle their debts, and Poseidon Bank asks a question: rather than settle with Athena Bank tonight, could it possibly settle with Athena tomorrow night and pay one night of interest? The bankers thought about this and decided that it was not only acceptable, it was desirable. The ability to pay one’s debts, which the bankers called solvency, is different from liquidity. When the small bank was forced to sell its balance sheet at a discount, it was solvent but not liquid, and the inflexibility of the system caused real value to be destroyed. Or take the fishmonger, who pays his suppliers with banknotes in the morning before going out to fish but isn’t able to sell his fish to the restaurants until evening. Under immediate gross settlement, his bank account was often dangerously low, but it was always full again by nightfall. Thus, the bankers reason, it would be better if the system had some flexibility. Since Poseidon is good for the money and only owes Athena for incidental reasons due to who paid who today, why not defer settlement another day? So the banks agreed that while eventually settling was critical to the system, banks could borrow from each other for one night at a special interest rate, which they called the overnight rate. Just as villagers could go into debt to each other in order to resolve a timing-mismatch, so banks could go into debt to each other for exactly the same reason.
Basket village
Deferral. Poseidon asks to settle tomorrow. Solvency is still not liquidity. The fishmonger still buys in the morning and sells in the evening. In the stone village his bank’s vault runs low until nightfall, and overnight borrowing at a special rate papers over the gap.
If Poseidon’s members still have unused room under two-thirds, Poseidon issues overnight against that pledged, insured stock and pays Athena in paper BUCKs. No one lent Poseidon ounces. The pledge was already there. Interest is due only if Poseidon is already at two-thirds and must borrow paper another bank actually holds — Credit, for a night. The overnight rate, when it appears, is the price of that residual Credit. It is not the throttle on all money. The fishmonger’s member-bank issues against his morning inventory and retires the paper at dusk. Flexibility still matters. It no longer has to be purchased by stacking bank debt on bank debt to keep a wagon of metal from running late.
Acceptance
Stone village
Acceptance. The villagers begin to wonder: what is money? Stones are obviously money, but so are banknotes and even bank deposits. For example, every time the bookseller sells a book, he is either paid in stones directly or he is paid with a banknote. After a while, the bookseller realizes something: he hasn’t seen a stone in a while. Everyone buys from him using banknotes, and he doesn’t even convert that banknote to stones. He simply deposits the banknote at his bank, and then banks settle the debt later, sometimes days later. The bookseller realizes that once he’s handed a banknote, he considers himself paid. Of course, if he only viewed stones as money, he would not be paid until he converted this banknote into stones. But he goes to bed each night with only a number on a balance sheet to tell him he has money. The villagers begin to wonder if maybe all the things they thought mattered about special gray stones—durability, portability, scarcity—were not the real reason people were willing to accept them as money. Maybe money was just anything that another person would accept as settlement for a debt. If this were true, then a banknotes were also money.
Basket village
Acceptance. The bookseller has the same revelation: he has not seen an ounce in a while. He is paid in paper BUCKs, he deposits them, he sleeps. He considers himself paid. Money is whatever the other party will accept as settlement. The stone villagers were right about that. They were wrong that this makes a warehouse note, a gray stone, and a member-bank note the same kind of thing. An ounce is Commodity money. A warehouse note is a claim on a bank’s box. Member-bank paper is Claim money: issued at two-thirds of attested, insured stock the members keep. A loan of someone else’s paper is Credit. All of them can be accepted. Only one of them was issued against wealth the owner kept, without asking the widow to stand in the middle. Durability, portability, scarcity of gold were never the whole reason money worked. Acceptance was. What stands behind the accepted thing is why some money stays good.
Creation
Stone village
Creation. An extremely profitable businessman came to Zeus Bank for a loan, but the banker has a problem. Her storehouse of stones is nearly empty, and she cannot issue more debt without another villager handing over more stones as deposits. But then she thinks about the bookseller. The bookseller accepts banknotes as payment and buys goods for his family using banknotes as well. He has not asked for his stones in the storehouse in years, and the banker does not even think of herself as storing his particular stones anywhere. She only has a pile of stones in the storehouse, and she can’t remember the last time she worried about running out of them. What she does worry about is the residual payment owed at nightly settlement. Sometimes she is paid a little, sometimes she pays a little, depending on payments across the village. And if she owes more than she expects, she can borrow at the overnight rate. In her mind, the real risk is not a villager asking for their stones. It’s her overnight interest payment growing if she keeps rolling her debts forward. This is the risk that she must and can manage. So she takes out her balance sheet, and simply writes down a new line: a liability in the form of new deposits for the businessman and an asset in the form of this man’s debt to the bank. Her sheet balances. This isn’t an accounting trick in her mind, and she doesn’t even think about it as creating money, because she isn’t creating stones. The liability or deposit is simply a claim for stones against her bank. The profitable businessman can now, if he wants, ask for real, physical, special gray stones, and she could give them to him. But he won’t! He will only ask for banknotes and repay his debt in banknotes. Thus, with a stroke of the pen, the businessman has banknotes to expand his business, and the ingenious banker’s residual payments shift, imperceptibly, day over day, as slightly more money in the village is a claim against the stones in her storehouse.
Basket village
Creation. A profitable businessman comes to Zeus for liquidity. In the stone village the banker has a problem: her storehouse of stones is nearly empty. She cannot write more deposits without someone handing her stones. Then she thinks about the bookseller, who has not asked for stones in years. What she worries about is the residual at nightly settlement, and the overnight rate if she rolls. So she takes out her sheet and writes a liability — a new deposit for the businessman — and an asset — his promise to restore that deposit. Her sheet balances. She is not writing the deposit against stones in the vault, or against a lien on his plant. She is writing it against an intention: that he will pay her back. Bundled in the same signature is a bond: a schedule to restore the principal, which happens to match the deposit she just wrote, plus a fee she calls interest. She does not think of this as creating money, because she is not creating stones. She is creating a claim on her bank, backed by a promise to unwind it. He will not ask for gray stones. He will spend banknotes, and repay in banknotes. The stroke of the pen is the missing element, mislabelled. Look at her sheet: it grew on both sides.
At Zeus in the gold village the banker will not write a deposit against an intention. The businessman is a member. His plant is attested, insured, and valued in gold BUCKs at more than the paper she will issue — the extra is the buffer, the unissued third. She records an asset: a lien on that insured collateral. She records a liability: paper BUCKs, never more than two-thirds of the insured value. That is issuance. It is complete without a promise to restore anything on a calendar. It carries a fee of two percent a year on his issuance limit — the two-thirds — whether he spends the paper or not. That carrying fee pays for underwriting, insurance, and the ledger: an elevator’s storage charge, not interest on a loan. There is no schedule, and no forfeiture for missing one.
If he also wants a promise to restore the deposit on a date — principal back, so the lien can lift on a calendar — that is a separate contract: a bond, whose principal repayment happens to match the deposit liability, plus interest on the amount actually lent, priced for risk and for loss of use. Member-banks are forthright about the two monetary events. Issuance is a lien on insured collateral plus a carrying fee on the limit. A loan is interest on a loaned amount. The stone banker bundled them with one pen and named the bundle a loan. The gold village leaves them as two lines. If he is already at two-thirds, Zeus can only lend him paper another member has left idle — Credit, with interest, because someone actually parts with BUCKs. Until then there is no one to pay for money that was never lent.
Centralization
Squeeze
Stone village
Squeeze. Every autumn, all the farmers in town withdraw their stones from their banks to pay the the agricultural workers who bring in the harvest. These are typically poor, itinerant workers who do not have bank accounts. They always want to be paid in stones. On a normal night, the banks’ nightly settlement is easy because everyone in the village is paying everyone else, and so the residual payments between banks is small. The zoologist pays the architect and the architect pays the bookseller and the bookseller pays the fishmonger and the fishmonger pays the zoologist. Money circulates. But around harvest time, many banks struggle to settle because their stones have been withdrawn to pay agricultural workers. Money flows in one direction. The banks fear this night, because often the residual payments are very large. The bankers call this night a credit crunch because the ability to extend credit is restricted, as many banks are suddenly short on stones. The stones do not disappear; they simply leave the banking system temporarily, until the agricultural workers spend their money.
Basket village
Squeeze. Every autumn the farmers pay the itinerant workers who bring in the harvest. In the stone village the workers want stones, stones leave the banks, residuals blow out, and the night is called a credit crunch. In the gold village some workers still want ounces, and the warehouse banks feel that drain. Most will take paper BUCKs, because paper buys food and lodging. Member-banks do not empty a gold vault to pay them; they transfer claims. Money still flows in one direction for a few weeks. Residuals between banks get large. Each bank covers its residual from unused room under two-thirds of its own members’ pledged, insured stock. The pinch is real if a bank is already at the cap — that bank may need Credit overnight. The pinch is not a shortage of gray stones, and it is not a shortage of the unit. The ounces did not disappear in the stone village either, as Gundersen says. They just left the vault. The member-banks never put most of the unit in that vault.
Gridlock
Stone village
Gridlock. One harvest night, Athena Bank owes Poseidon Bank a large residual payment of one hundred thousand stones, but Athena’s vault is empty because its customers had to pay workers’ wages. As usual, Athena asks Poseidon for an overnight loan, but this time Poseidon says no. Athena argues that while its vaults are empty, this is only due to the seasonal harvest. Eventually, money will flow back into Athena as its customers—many of whom borrowed money to prepare for the harvest—repay their debts. But Poseidon has its own debts to pay very soon and depositers who might ask for their stones back at any moment. Also, Poseidon cannot tell whether Athena made good or bad loans. All Poseidon can see from the outside is that Athena does not have stones. Most of the other banks are similarly constrained by the harvest’s drain on their stones, and Athena simply cannot settle its debt. The problem with the harvest night credit crunch is that Athena cannot create money that Poseidon will accept. Athena can expand its balance sheet to create new deposits that the bookkeeper will accept as money. But these new deposits mean nothing to Poseidon. Money is something that the other party will accept as the settlement for a debt, and so deposits at Athena is not money to Poseidon. But if Athena cannot pay Poseidon, then Poseidon cannot pay Hermes, and so on. The banks cannot settle, and this harvest night, the banking system finally goes into gridlock. The bank leaders and village elders agree to meet the next morning to resolve the crisis.
Basket village
Gridlock. Athena owes Poseidon a large residual; Athena’s gold box, if it has one, is empty because wages went out. Athena asks Poseidon for an overnight loan of ounces; Poseidon says no. In the stone village Athena cannot create money Poseidon will accept: Athena’s deposits are not money to Poseidon. That is the hierarchy problem.
In the gold village Athena’s paper is already money to Poseidon — the same gold-BUCKs, issued at two-thirds against insured stock. If Athena’s members still have unused pledged capacity, Athena issues against that capacity and pays Poseidon. The obligation stays on Athena’s own insured sheet. Poseidon does not need Athena’s vault. Poseidon needs Athena’s pledges to be real and under the cap. If they are not — if Athena has issued to two-thirds and the harvest used even the cushion — that is a bank at its bound, and the insurer and the other members’ unused room are the parties who care. It is insolvency or a request for Credit, not gridlock from a unit Poseidon will not take. The cascade — Athena cannot pay Poseidon, Poseidon cannot pay Hermes — is what happens when each bank’s money is only money to its own customers. Shared gold-BUCKs at a shared two-thirds rule do not have that seam.
Backstop
Stone village
Backstop. The next morning, the largest bank in the village, Zeus, proposes a solution. It argues that the banks should create an organization that acts as an intermediary between lender and debtor banks during a crisis. Zeus calls this a clearinghouse. The clearinghouse could inspect any member bank’s balance sheet and issue paper certificates against the bank’s assets. Other banks would trust the clearinghouse because it was a neutral third party, run by all the member banks. At first, Poseidon balks at this idea. It argues that you cannot settle a debt by making another one. This is why Athena cannot simply loan itself money and why Poseidon does not want another promise from another bank. But Zeus argues that these certificates are not promises; they are money between banks! If two villagers transact without a bank, the only thing that is money between them is stones. But if two villagers use an intermediary such as a bank, then a hierarchy emerges. One villager can pay another using a banknote and both parties go to bed knowing that there is no debt. The debt is moved up the hierarchy, to debt between banks. But what happens when the banks cannot settle? Zeus argues that the fix is simple and even obvious: the banks should move the debt up the hierarchy by creating a kind of bank-of-banks! Finally Poseidon agrees—what choice did the bank really have any way? —and a clearinghouse is created. The clearinghouse inspects Athena’s balance sheet and then issues a fairly-valued certificate against its assets. Athena pays Poseidon with this certificate, and now Athena has no debt to Poseidon but rather has debt to the clearinghouse. And Poseidon can pay Hermes with a clearinghouse certificate, and so on. And soon, the argicultural workers start buying beer and food and clothing, and stone money starts flowing through the village and back into each bank’s storehouse. Soon, every bank is able to repay its certificate loan, and the banking system survives the harvest gridlock.
Basket village
Backstop. Zeus still proposes a clearinghouse. It is a good idea, used for a different job. The clearinghouse inspects member-banks’ pledges — which they already underwrite for themselves — and confirms that residuals are being covered from unused two-thirds capacity, not from empty boxes of metal. It does not issue a higher money. Poseidon’s objection in the stone village was right: you cannot settle a debt by making another one. Clearinghouse certificates worked there because they moved the debt up the hierarchy, to a bank-of-banks. Here the debt does not need to move up. Athena pays Poseidon with paper issued against Athena’s remaining insured stock. Poseidon pays Hermes the same way. Soon the workers buy beer and clothing, paper circulates, harvest season ends, and each bank’s residual shrinks back inside its ordinary headroom. The backstop is the unissued third, and the insurer. Zeus is still the largest, and still a competitor, and still should not run the standard. That is an argument for a public inspector of underwriting. It is not an argument for a bank-of-banks whose certificates become the only money banks will accept from each other.
Centralization
Stone village
Centralization. Over time, the banks agree with Zeus that these certificates were yet another form of money. Between villagers, stones were money and even banknotes were money because neither was any villager’s liability and both were accepted at face-value and without any discount, which the banks called at par. Similarly, between banks, clearinghouse certificates were a kind of money because they were not the liability of any individual bank and they were accepted at par. However, with time, the banks came to dislike the clearinghouse. Zeus was the largest bank and even a competitor and yet had outsized influence in the process. The village elders realized that the clearinghouse, as a bank-of-banks, was the most powerful financial organization in the village. So the village elders stepped in and decided that the village needed an official bank-of-banks, which they called the central bank. They called all the other banks commercial banks. The central bank would serve essentially the same role as the clearinghouse, but rather than being run by member banks, it would be a new administrative arm of the village government.
Basket village
Centralization. The stone village dislikes Zeus’s influence over the clearinghouse, so the elders make a central bank and call the others commercial banks. That step concentrates the power to issue the settlement asset. In the gold village the elders may still want a public office: a standard for attestation, a two-thirds rule, insurance that is actually insurance, a clearinghouse that is not a competitor. They can staff it as an arm of the village. They should not give it a monopoly on the unit. The unit is the ounce — and, later, the basket — which no office issues by decree. The office recognizes member-banks that meet the standard. Warehouse banks, if they remain, do Credit and safekeeping. The public office does not sit above them as the only maker of bank-money. It sits beside them as the keeper of underwriting. Money at par is still the aim: a paper BUCK spends at face, with no discount for whose herd or whose leather stands behind this particular note, because no note is a claim on its own asset. Par is a property of fungible Claim money issued at a common cap. It does not require a throne.
Reserves
Stone village
Reserves. The central bank opened a bank account for every bank in the village. Unlike the clearinghouse, banks had no choice. They could not opt in or out of membership. They were required by law. And rather than issue certificates, the central bank said it would issue reserves. The central bank said that certificates were ad hoc emergency money, issued as part of a voluntary system of member banks, while reserves would be official bank money, issued by the central bank. Furthermore, by law every bank had to keep a certain amount of reserves in its account at the central bank, as a fraction of the amount of deposits it owed its customers. This made reserves money between banks, because now banks needed and wanted to have reserves and because they were accepted at par as settlement for debt between banks. To get more reserves, a commercial bank would borrow from the central bank against the assets on its balance sheet. This moved bank debt up the financial hierarchy, just as villager debt was moved up the hierarchy by banks. And just as villager debt was made flexible by intermediation and money creation, so bank debt was made flexible by the central bank, which could simply create reserves by expanding its own balance sheet.
Basket village
Reserves. The stone central bank opens an account for every bank and requires reserves — official bank money, a fraction of deposits, borrowed from the centre against assets, moving debt up the hierarchy. In the gold village the reserve is already on the books: the unissued third of pledged, insured stock. That is the buffer. You do not borrow it from a bank-of-banks in order to issue; you leave it unissued, and you issue against the two-thirds when a member needs paper or when a residual must be funded. A required fraction of “reserves” at a central bank is how the stone system rations a scarce settlement token it invented because stones left the vault. The member-bank rations by attestable wealth and a cap. If a warehouse bank wants a buffer of ounces, it can hold some. That is prudence. It is not a legal monopoly on the settlement asset. Expanding a public balance sheet to “create reserves” is the stone village repeating, one layer up, the stroke of the pen. The member-bank does not need that echo. The unused two-thirds-room is the flexibility — and it is still a claim on wealth the members keep.
Inflation
Stone village
Inflation. Over time, debt in the village grew. The commercial banks were comfortable with the debt in the village, because now they could always settle their debts to other banks by going into debt to the central bank instead. And the central bank was comfortable with all the debt from commercial banks, because it could always expand its own balance sheet to create more reserves. However, as more and more villagers and businesses paid for goods with debt, the price of goods in the village went up. For example, the rancher could only raise so many cows per year, but now people were offering him more stones for each cow. So the prices of cows went up. And so on for other items in the village. The villagers called this increase in prices over time inflation. The villagers speculated that inflation was caused by the village creating money faster than it could create value. A few wise villagers noticed, however, that the problem with inflation was not with stones. The stone supply had barely changed in years. When the village experienced inflation years ago, it was when the flood cut open the river embankment and revealed more special stones. At that time, the impact was moderated because the value of a day’s labor collecting stones was reduced as the value of a stone went down. But now inflation was being caused by the stroke of a banker’s pen, and this labor was essentially free.
Basket village
Inflation. Prices can still rise. If a flood cuts open a new seam of gold in the riverbed and ounces cheapen, that is Commodity money doing what Commodity money does, and panning slows to match — the same moderator the stone village had. The other kind — the stroke of a pen, free labour — is what the stone village gets when issuance is unbounded by goods, and when a deposit is written against an intention to repay rather than against a lien. Member-banks cannot do that and remain member-banks. Paper is capped at two-thirds of attested, insured stock: the liability is smaller than the insured collateral. If they value the stock too high, the underwriters and the insurer are on the hook, and shops stop taking the paper. If they issue past two-thirds, they have left the rule and become the warehouse banker who wrote a loan without ounces. Claim money cannot make anyone richer than their wealth. Two-thirds is the bound they chose so a bad season does not break par. The labour of panning gold still moderates the ounce. The cap, the buffer, and the insurer moderate the paper.
Policy
Stone village
Policy. The central bankers thought about the problem of inflation, and they realized that they could control the price and thus the quantity of reserves, which in turn would control the price of money for the villagers. Just as a commercial bank could encourage more villagers to deposit money by offering a higher interest rate on deposits, so the central bank could encourage more banks to hold reserves by offering a higher interest rate on reserves. And since banks were were required to hold reserves as a fraction of the debts on their balance sheet, this meant that the banks would loan less money to villagers. So if the central bank increased the interest rate it offered on reserves, more banks would hold reserves and thus decrease their lending to villagers. And if the central bank decreased the interest rate it offered on reserves, fewer banks would deposit their reserves and thus increase their lending to villagers. So the central bank started to manage the problem of inflation by changing the overnight interest rate on reserves.
Basket village
Policy. The stone central bank steers the village by changing the interest it pays on reserves, which changes how much commercial banks lend. That is a powerful wheel, and it is on one desk. The gold village does not steer issuance by changing the price of overnight Credit. Issuance is not lending. The two-thirds cap, the attestation, the insurance, and a carrying fee of two percent a year on each member’s issuance limit — those are the policy. They are not decided each morning. Honest Credit — paper lent by a member who is under their cap to a member who is at it, or ounces lent from a warehouse — still has a market rate, proportional to risk and to loss of use, set by people who actually part with BUCKs. That rate is information. It is not a tool for rationing the money the village lives on. The stone village has to use the price of Credit to ration Claim issuance, because it filed Claim issuance under Credit and wrote deposits against intentions to repay. Once the two events are named separately, they can be priced separately: a carrying fee on the issuance limit, and interest on a loan.
Hierarchy
Stone village
Hierarchy. The villagers have constructed a hierachy of money. Villagers settle debts with stones, bank deposits, or banknotes, while banks settle debts with reserves. So reserves are money between banks, while banknotes and deposits are money between villagers. This gave the central bank enormous power. It could change the price of credit throughout the entire village by changing the interest rate on reserves. And in a crisis, it could act as the lender of last resort, creating elasticity in the system by lending when no other bank could. The villagers have built a hierarchical system that allows for both elasticity and discipline in the money supply.
Basket village
Hierarchy. The stone village has built a hierarchy of money: stones, banknotes and deposits, reserves. The central bank can change the price of Credit for everyone, and in a crisis it can lend when no one else will. Elasticity and discipline, stacked. The gold village has a hierarchy of trust in underwriting and insurance, not a hierarchy of moneys. Villagers settle in ounces or in paper BUCKs. Banks settle in paper BUCKs issued against unused room under two-thirds of their own members’ pledged, insured stock. A mill’s paper and a rancher’s paper are the same money. What sits above is the standard: the ounce, the cap, the insurer, the public inspector. Elasticity is unused issuance room. Discipline is the two-thirds and the stock that must still be there. No one needs the power to set a single overnight rate for the entire village. The lender of last resort, when one is needed, is the insurer of last resort — and, for a bank that is merely at its cap, a neighbour with unused room, at interest, because that neighbour is actually lending.
Exchange
Currency
Stone village
Currency. The village has built a financial system that uses special gray stones as money. But over the mountain pass is another village which uses special red stones as money. And over the river is another village which uses special blue stones as money. And so on. In fact, there are many villages in the region, and they each use their locally available special stones as money. In each village, the villagers refer to their stones as simply money, but when discussing money as an idea that transcends all the villages, they refer to special stones as currency.
Basket village
Currency. Over the mountain pass is a village that prices everything in NRGY — one standard unit of energy. Over the river, FOOD: one standard meal. Beyond the woods, LABOR: one standard hour. In the hills, METAL: one standard unit of metals. Upstream, WOOD: one unit of wood. Each village has done what the gold village did. Member-banks underwrite, insure, and value their citizens’ stock in the local unit, and issue paper up to two-thirds of that wealth. In each village they call their unit simply money. When they talk across the pass, they call these units currency. The stone region needed that word because each village’s rock was a different colour. These villages need it because each measures in a different real thing. The banking structure is the same. The ruler is not. Not yet.
Trade
Stone village
Trade. The merchant has a problem. The red-stone village is near rich clay deposits and makes excellent pottery, which he wants to bring back to his village to sell. However, the merchant only has gray money, which is not money in the red village. But after some initial bartering, he convinces the merchants in the red-stone village to accept his gray stones as payment. He argues that while gray money is not money to them, it is not worthless either. They can, for example, spend the gray stones in his village when they travel there for business, or they can exchange the gray stones for red stones with other red villagers who plan to travel to the gray village. The red-stone merchants eventually agree, and they sell their pottery for gray stones. But they include a markup on the price, since gray money is inconvenient and must be converted. Over time, all the villages trade with each other. However, trades are limited, because not every merchant wants the inconvenience of being paid in a foreign currency and because imported goods are expensive due to the markup.
Basket village
Trade. The merchant wants FOOD-village pottery — they sit on clay as well as kitchens — and he has only gold BUCKs, which are not money there. After some bartering he convinces them to take his paper, or his ounces: not worthless, spendable when they travel, or exchangeable with FOOD villagers who will go to the gold village. They agree, with a markup, because gold is inconvenient and must be converted into meals. Over time all six villages trade. Trades are limited, because not every merchant wants the inconvenience of a foreign unit, and because imported goods are expensive due to the markup. The FOOD merchants are not taking a gray stone they cannot eat. They are taking a claim on gold-village stock, underwritten at two-thirds, which they must still turn into FOOD. That is a better inconvenience than a coloured rock, and it is still an inconvenience.
Exchange
Stone village
Exchange. An entrepreneur notices that many merchants have red stones that they do not want. They trade with the red-stone village because it is worthwhile, but they would prefer to be paid in gray stones. The entrepreneur thinks that the inverse problem must exist in the red-stone village: those merchants must have gray stones that they do not want. And so she forms a business: she buys red stones from the merchant in her village using gray stones, and then she travels over the mountain pass to the red-stone village and buys gray stones with red. The villagers in town start to call her a currency trader. Just as a horse trader specializes in trading horses, the currency trader specializes in trading currencies. The currency trader quotes her price as exchange rate, which reflects her estimate of the relative value of stones in two villages. This rate fluctuates, as the money supply and the prices of goods in both villages slowly drift. And of course, she adds a markup or spread onto this rate for her services. Currency trading is very profitable, and over time, many exchanges pop up. As exchanging currencies becomes easier and cheaper, the villages trade more.
Basket village
Exchange. An entrepreneur notices that many merchants hold NRGY or FOOD they do not want, and she guesses the inverse holds over the pass. She buys foreign paper with gold BUCKs and travels to buy gold BUCKs with foreign paper. The villagers call her a currency trader. She quotes an exchange rate: how many meals to the ounce, how many hours to the unit of energy, how much wood to metal. The rate fluctuates as supplies and harvests drift, and she adds a spread. Currency trading is profitable; exchanges pop up; trade grows. The rate is a relative price of real things — gold, energy, food, hours, metal, wood — and of whose member-banks you trust to mean two-thirds. It is not a mystery of two riverbeds.
Correspondence
Stone village
Correspondence. But the currency trader has a problem: transporting stones between villages is dangerous and laborious. So she opens bank accounts in all the villages in the region, and rather than trading stones, she trades banknotes. The banks notice her work and that their customers are often receiving foreign currency, and they wonder: why not simply accept banknotes from other villages and then perform this exchange themselves? Then they could collect a currency exchange fee. A gray merchant could receive a red banknote, deposit it in his local bank, and receive gray deposits in return. His bank would then warehouse the foreign currency and eventually exchange it for gray money. The process could be similar to nightly settlement in a single village. And so the banks open accounts with all the other banks, and they hire currency traders to manage exchange rates and their growing balances of foreign currencies. The bankers call this correspondent banking. And so just as payments between villagers created debts between banks, trade between villages starts creating debts between banking systems.
Basket village
Correspondence. Transporting ounces and foreign paper is still dangerous, so she opens accounts in each village and transfers claims. The member-banks notice, and accept foreign paper, warehousing the claim and crediting the local unit. They call this correspondent banking, same as the stone bankers. Payments between villagers create residual claims between banking systems. The residual is typically small when trade is two-way. What is being warehoused is not a foreign stone. It is a foreign member-bank’s paper, issued at two-thirds of that village’s insured stock. The fee, if any, pays for checking the other village’s underwriting. It does not pay for a mule train of coloured rocks. A correspondent residual is still supposed to sit inside the receiving bank’s unused issuance room, or to be Credit, with interest, if it does not.
Exposure
Stone village
Exposure. Correspondent banking made trade between villages easier. Now a gray bank could simply accept a red banknote from one of its customers. However, this red banknote was only a promise from a bank in another village. Ultimately, the gray bank needed to know that the red-stone village bank was good for the money. As with nightly settlement, the residual payment between banking systems was typically small. The gray village bought pottery from the red village, while the red village bought cows from the gray village. Money circulated. But the central bankers worried about the political and economic health of the other villages. They thought about their own struggles with inflation and credit squeezes, and wondered what would happen if these happened in another village. There was no central bank above villages. What if another village failed to repay their debts? The gray village could create gray money, but it could not create foreign currency, force a foreign bank to pay its debts, or enforce its laws on foreign bankers. And so as the debts between villages grew, the central bankers monitored the political stability and economic health of their trading partners. They reasoned that a foreign currency was only as good as the village that issued it.
Basket village
Exposure. A gold bank that accepts FOOD paper needs the FOOD village to be good for it. There is no bank above villages. You cannot issue another village’s unit, force its insurers to pay, or write its laws. The stone central bankers were right to watch their neighbours. What they were watching, without a name for it, was the quality of someone else’s Claim money — and, later, of someone else’s fiat. Political risk remains. A gold village cannot paper over exposure by panning ounces it does not have, or by issuing past two-thirds. It cannot issue against FOOD-village wealth it does not hold. A foreign currency is only as good as the village that issued it: yes. Foreign member-bank paper is only as good as that village’s stock, its two-thirds, its insurer, and its courts. That is a narrower, more inspectable claim.
Default
Stone village
Default. Like other villages, the red-stone village funded itself through taxes. However, the government also funded itself with debt: banks, businesses, and individuals would give the elders money, and the elders would promise to repay the debt with interest. The bankers called these promises bonds. Many people liked to own bonds, because it seemed like a relatively safe way to make interest. However, over many years, the red-stone village borrowed more and more by selling bonds. The village’s debt became very large, and after a few poor harvests, many local businesses struggled and tax payments dwindled. A wealthy lawyer in the red village worried about his government. He worried that his central bank might pay off its bond debt by issuing yet more bonds, this time by creating reserves and selling the new bonds to commercial banks. The debt would roll from public bondholders to commercial banks, and the central bank would pay for this by expanding its balance sheet, by simply creating money. He knew that when this happened, there would be more red money in the system chasing the same amount of goods, and so the red village might experience inflation. So every so often, this lawyer would go the currency trader in town and convert some of his red banknotes to black banknotes, since he thought the black-stone village had the strongest economy. At first, the currency trader was happy to exchange one red banknote for one black banknote. But soon, as the red-village experienced inflation, many people in the red-stone village wanted black stones instead of red. The currency trader started demanding two red stones for one black stone, then three, and then four. The red-stone village’s economy continued struggle, because now importing goods was more expensive, since red stones were worth less relative to other currencies. Finally, the red-stone village told the other villages in the region that it would not repay its loans, since it could not risk creating more red money without extreme inflation. The bankers called this a default.
Basket village
Default. The FOOD village may still tax, and it may still sell bonds — Credit, if buyers part with FOOD-paper they already have. If the elders issue paper against public land and granaries that really exist and are insured, at two-thirds, that is Claim money, bounded by that wealth. If they issue past two-thirds, roll bonds into more paper, and “pay” by writing more claims, they have left the rule. The lawyer who starts buying METAL-village paper is reading the same story the stone-village lawyer read. Import prices rise because FOOD claims have multiplied faster than meals. Finally FOOD says it will not repay. Default is what happens when promises outrun two-thirds of attestable, insured wealth. The cap does not prevent folly. It makes the folly visible as a broken underwriting rule, rather than as a mysterious rise in the price of cows.
Reserve
Stone village
Reserve. During the red-stone village’s debt crisis, no one thought that black stones were completely safe. Rather, many villagers simply preferred to hold black stones rather than red. Like the lawyer, everyone trusted the black-stone village more. This is because the black-stone village, which was high in the mountains, was the wealthiest village by far. It had a strong military, a robust economy, transparent monetary policy, and a fair judicial system. People trusted that black money would retain its value. Over time, black money had simply become the most trusted money in the region, and merchants from all the villages found themselves transacting with black money because everyone had some. When a merchant was offered a black banknote, she would happily accept it; often, she would not even bother taking it to a currency trader to convert it. Like the bookkeeper who thought himself paid when he received a banknote, the merchant thought herself paid when she received black money. She did not think, “This money is better than my money.” She simply didn’t bother to exchange it. And during any sort of financial crisis, people would quickly exchange their domestic money for black money. The central bankers noticed this, and they started to refer to black money as the reserve currency. They used the word “reserve” because, much like central bank reserves, black money acted as a settlement asset, this time between banking systems.
Basket village
Reserve. During the FOOD crisis, no one thinks METAL is perfectly safe. People simply prefer it. The METAL village, high in the mountains, is the wealthiest: a strong militia, a robust economy, transparent underwriting, a fair court. Merchants accept METAL paper without converting, as the bookseller accepted banknotes. In a crisis they exchange into METAL. The bankers start to call METAL the reserve currency: a settlement asset between banking systems, the way central-bank reserves were settlement between banks. The word fits. It still names one village’s unit. The structure underneath is the same two-thirds member-bank in every village. Preference for METAL is preference for their underwriting, not a law of nature that settlement must be someone else’s metal. That preference is what the next conference will have to live with — or replace.
Fiat
Devaluation
Stone village
Devaluation. The purple-stone village is also struggling. The village specializes in making clothes; it has spinners and weavers, knitters and dyers, tailors and dressmakers. However, the village struggles to export clothes, since other villages also make their own clothes at competitive prices. So the village’s bankers propose an idea: what if the purple central bank expanded its balance sheet to create reserves and then used those reserves to buy foreign currencies. Then there would be more purple stones relative to foreign currencies, which would decrease the price of purple money. The bankers called this currency devaluation. Why, the village elders ask, would they want to do that? The bankers reply that if purple money is cheaper relative to, say, black money, then in the black-stone village, purple clothes would be cheaper than black clothes. And so black-stone villagers would buy more purple clothes. Of course, this would mean that the purple village would struggle to import goods, but it would thrive at exporting them. After much debate, the elders agree, and the purple central bank begins devaluing its currency. Some villages enjoy the cheaper clothing from the purple village and allow their local clothing industries to struggle, while other villages protect their local industries by levying a special tax on imported clothes, called tariffs. Over time, many villages devalue their currencies to become more competitive, while others impose tariffs to protect their domestic industries.
Basket village
Devaluation. The LABOR village specializes in clothes: spinners, weavers, knitters, dyers, tailors. Exports struggle; other villages sew too. In the stone region the purple central bank would write extra reserves, cheapen purple money, and make purple clothes look inexpensive in black stones. Other villages would levy tariffs. The LABOR member-banks cannot cheapen an hour by issuing past two-thirds of insured stock. The hour is the definition. They can only cheapen their paper by lying about the wealth behind it, which is a problem for the insurer and the underwriters, not a policy. Competitive devaluation is a fiat trick. A village that wants to export more must make better clothes, or fewer of other things. Tariffs remain a political choice. They are not the aftershock of a pen. An hour is still an hour. Dressing it up as a cheaper hour, by multiplying claims, is the stone village’s move.
Conference
Stone village
Conference. The central bankers debate monetary policy. They debate topics like currency devaluation, extreme inflation, and banking system defaults. They realize that trade between banking systems is lacking cooperation and flexibility. Each village is engaging in competitive or protectionist policies that limits free trade. And a village default impacts everyone, since there is no backstop. So the elders agree that they should meet and discuss a resolution, and they gather in mid-summer at a beautiful hotel in the black-stone village. After much debate, the leaders decide to formalize a few things. First, they agree that black money would be the region’s official reserve currency, and that a single black banknote would always be convertible into thirty-five black stones. Second, they decide that each central bank would keep its exchange rate with the black currency fixed. They called this dynamic a currency peg. This meant that each central bank would maintain a balance of black money in reserve and would then buy or sell this black money in exchange for its own currency, in order to maintain the exchange rate. For example, if red stones were worth too little relative to black stones, the red central bank would buy red stones for black. The idea behind this system was that that if black money was stable and if every other currency was pegged to black money, then every other currency would also be stable. Finally, they agree that some flexibility was needed in the system, and they create a clearinghouse for the central banks. This would be analogous to a clearinghouse for banks within a single village: if any central bank struggled to defend its currency peg due to liquidity issues, this new clearinghouse could lend as a last resort. In theory, this system would prevent currency devaluations and protectionist policies, limit the fallout of debt defaults, and add flexibility during gridlocks.
Basket village
Conference. The elders gather in mid-summer, as in the stone region — not because they must elect one village’s metal as the official reserve and peg every other unit to it at thirty-five to one, but because trade among NRGY, FOOD, LABOR, METAL, WOOD, and gold is still six rulers, six correspondent books, and a METAL privilege they can see coming. The stone world, at this same chapter, is about to invent fiat. These villages take the other door.
They agree that one BUCK will no longer mean one ounce of gold alone. It will mean a basket: gold, energy, food, hours, metal, and wood, in standard amounts that together are worth exactly one BUCK. Every member-bank in every village will remeasure its pledged, insured stock in that basket, and will keep issuing paper at two-thirds of that stock. The cows, the kilns, the timber, the hours, the ore, the meals — the same wealth, the same underwriting, the same insurance, the same cap. Only the ruler changes. There is no peg to defend with someone else’s stones. Par is the basket. A clearinghouse among the villages can still extend Credit overnight to a bank that is solvent but at its two-thirds; that is interest, because someone is actually lending. It is not a new hierarchy. It is the same residual, now in a shared unit.
Privilege
Stone village
Privilege. This status as the region’s reserve currency gave the black village an important advantage. Other villages had to make and sell goods in order to acquire money used to trade. But the black village could, within limits, acquire goods simply by issuing money and debt that everyone else wanted to hold, because people preferred to save and trade using black money, and now because central banks needed to maintain some black money in reserve. This made debt cheaper for the black village, and the black government could fund public programs more easily, because everyone was happy to hold black bonds. Furthermore, black villagers could buy cheap goods and services from across the region, because everyone wanted black money.
Basket village
Privilege. METAL’s status as the region’s reserve unit had been about to give it the stone-black advantage: other villages must make goods to acquire the money used in trade, while METAL could, within limits, acquire goods by issuing the paper everyone wanted to hold. After the basket, no village gets that gift. The unit everyone holds is the basket. Issuing it still requires pledged, insured wealth at two-thirds, in every village, including METAL. You cannot buy the world’s clothes with a stroke of the pen unless the pen is attached to nothing. The basket attaches it, and the cap keeps the attachment. A trusted village may still enjoy cheaper Credit, because people prefer its courts and its underwriters. That is a return to governance. It is not seigniorage on a unit everyone else must mine in a hill they do not have.
Dilemma
Stone village
Dilemma. However, the success of black money created a dilemma. Over time, the other villages accumulated vast quantities of black banknotes and debt denominated in black money. This meant, however, that there were many claims for black money across the region. And just as the teacher worried about convertibility of his bank deposits into special gray stones, so central banks wondered about convertibility of black money into special black stones. As long as few banks tried to convert, this was not a problem. But as more and more black money flowed through the system, the central banks wondered: was every black banknote really worth thirty-five black stones? And thus a dilemma arose: the more successful black money was, the harder it became for the black central bank to maintain the promise of convertibility.
Basket village
Dilemma. The more successful black money was, the more claims on black stones piled up, and the harder convertibility became. That was the dilemma. The basket villages do not have it. They did not promise to convert a mountain of notes into METAL’s ore, or into gold ounces in one vault. They promised that a BUCK is the basket, and that paper is issued at two-thirds of insured stock measured in that basket. Success in trade does not undermine the unit. It fills the ledgers with claims that still mean gold, energy, food, hours, metal, and wood, against wealth that is still there. The teacher who ran on the stone bank was converting a promise into a rock. The holder of a basket-BUCK is not waiting on a rock. Convertibility is spending — or, for the issuer, retiring the paper against the stock that still sits in the pasture, the mill, the kitchen, the workshop, the mine, and the woodlot.
Float
Stone village
Float. The black-stone village elders had a problem. There was too much black money in the system, relative to black stones held by the black central bank. To maintain convertibility, they would need to make black money more expensive. They could buy back black money using foreign currencies, but they were constrained here. There was much more black money than any other currency. And they could raise the central bank’s overnight interest rate and thus raise the price of money in the village, but this would discourage villagers from taking out loans. It would hurt the black village’s economy. In other words, the black central bank was struggling to defend its own kind of peg, that of convertibility of a black banknote into thirty-five special black stones. And so after much discussion, the elders of the black-stone village made an extraordinary announcement: the black central bank would no longer exchange its banknotes for special black stones at all. Anyone could trade black stones, but their price in terms of black banknotes would not be fixed by convertibility; the parlance of the central bankers, the price would float.
Basket village
Float. The black elders, unable to defend thirty-five stones per note, let the price float and then stop converting at all. That is the confession that the notes had already ceased to be claims on stones. The basket villages do not have that moment. They already changed what the unit measures, at the conference, with the claim still on: same pledges, same two-thirds, new ruler. They did not break an ounce-promise. They replaced six rulers with one basket. If they later abandoned the basket and the cap, they would be declaring fiat — saying the notes are no longer claims. They do not. A float against a riverbed is a confession. A BUCK that still means the basket, issued at two-thirds of insured stock, has nothing to confess. Its price in some other village’s abandoned rock may wander. That is their float, not ours.
Fiat
Stone village
Fiat. At first, elders and bankers and traders around the region were shocked. Even the black village’s central bankers worried about what would happen next. And yet nothing happened. Everyone in the black village still had to pay taxes with black money. Wages, loans, and contracts were still denominated in black money. Commercial banks settled debts using reserves from the black central bank. And the black-stone village was still the strongest economy in the region, with a large military, a liquid and transparent financial system, and a relatively fair judiciary. People across the region still preferred to hold black money over any other, even though a black banknote was now just a piece of paper which could not be converted into special black stones. The bankers called this new system fiat money, because its value depends on the institutions and economy of the black village, not on convertibility into a commodity whose supply was governed by labor. Of course, the elders of the black village were still constrained. They could create unlimited amounts of black money, but they could not create unlimited amounts of goods from the black village: eggs, bread, cloth, wine, jewelry—these all had to be produced by people in the black village. So if the black central bank created money recklessly, they might experience inflation, and other villages might lose trust in the system. But within reason, fiat money gave the black village immense flexibility and power, while still maintaining the village’s status as the region’s reserve currency.
Basket village
Fiat. In the stone region, nothing happens. Taxes, wages, contracts, reserves, the army, the courts — black money still works, now called fiat, its value resting on institutions and the economy, not on labour in a riverbed. The elders are still constrained: they cannot print eggs. They can write claims with the claim removed. That is immense flexibility and immense power, within the limits of trust.
The basket villages can see exactly what was removed. A BUCK is Claim money, issued at two-thirds of attested, insured wealth, now measured in a shared basket. Fiat is Claim money after the claim has been taken off, leaving acceptance, taxes, and habit. It works until it doesn’t. The constraint “within reason” is political. The basket’s constraint is operational: no pledge, no issue; at the cap, only Credit, with interest, from someone who still has unused room. Gundersen is right that eggs, bread, cloth, and wine have to be produced by people. The basket villages never let the unit of account forget that. They met at the same chapter of the story where the stone world took the claim off, and they put six claims into one ruler instead.
Hierarchy
The pattern
Stone village
In the beginning, special gray stones were money. However, the villagers ran into a problem with stone money: it was inflexible. So the villagers created debt, but a villager could not settle a debt by making more promises. And so banks emerged as a layer above stone money. Now villagers could settle their debts with banknotes, because banknotes were a promise from higher up the hierarchy. Then the banks ran into the same problem: a bank could not settle a debt to another bank by creating more of its own deposits. And so the central bank emerged as a layer above bank money. Now banks could settle their debts with reserves, because reserves were a promise from higher up the hierarchy. Finally, the banking systems themselves ran into the same problem but with currencies: one village could not settle a debt to another village by creating more of its own currency. And so a reserve currency emerged as a layer above. Now villages could settle their debts with reserve currency, because the reserve currency was a promise from higher up the hierarchy.
Basket village
In the beginning, special gray stones were money, and they were inflexible, so debt appeared, and debt could not settle itself, so banks appeared, and banks could not settle with each other, so a central bank appeared, and villages could not settle with each other, so a reserve currency appeared, and then the reserve currency stopped being a claim on stones and simply was.
Across the pass, one-ounce gold BUCKs were money. Debt appeared, honestly, as Credit. The first banks held gold and issued paper. Then the banks that mattered were groups of farmers, ranchers, cobblers who underwrote, insured, and valued their stock, and issued paper at two-thirds against liens on insured collateral worth more than the liability, with a carrying fee on the issuance limit. They did not write deposits against an intention to repay. When a repayment calendar was wanted, it was a separate bond. Banks settled with each other inside unused two-thirds — obligations on their own insured sheets, not a higher money. Other villages did the same in NRGY, FOOD, LABOR, METAL, and WOOD. When the stone world stacked a reserve currency and then took the claim off, these villages redefined the BUCK as the basket of all six and remeasured the same pledges in a shared unit. The pattern Gundersen names is true of promises that are not claims on wealth. It is the pattern of unsecured IOUs stacked until the top IOU declares itself money. Claim money at a two-thirds cap stops the stack, because the promise was a lien on stock the members keep — and because a residual between banks is supposed to be paid from capacity they have not yet used.
Trust
Stone village
And so the pattern was: within each level, money was whatever the counterparty accepted as final settlement, and this could be promise if it was backed by the level above. The black village sat atop this hierarchy, with a promise to convert black banknotes into real, physical, special black stones. But in the end, this too was just a promise, and the black village was able to decree, by fiat, that black money just is. The black village could do this because black money was the most widely accepted form of final settlement. But the system rests on trust. And if the system rests on trust, then the trust can erode through bad governance, corruption, poor fiscal policy, and competition. But for now, black money is the best money in the world.
Basket village
And so the pattern was: within each level, money was whatever the counterparty accepted as final settlement. Gundersen is right. A promise can serve if it is backed by the level above — or if it is backed by wealth that does not need a level above. The black village sat atop the stone hierarchy because its promise was the most accepted, and then it took the promise off and the acceptance remained. The basket villages do not sit atop anyone. The basket does: gold, energy, food, hours, metal, wood, worth one BUCK, issued at two-thirds of insured stock, with a carrying fee on the limit and interest only on a loan. The system still rests on trust. Trust can still erode through bad governance, corruption, poor fiscal policy, and competition. The difference is what the trust is in. There: that the next layer will accept the promise, and that the village at the top will govern well. Here: that the stock exists, that it is insured, that two-thirds means two-thirds, and that a residual between banks is funded from unused pledged capacity — or, failing that, borrowed at interest from a neighbour who still has room. That is a smaller thing to ask of strangers, and a harder thing to counterfeit with a speech.
Acknowledgements
Stone village
Acknowledgements. I owe my understanding of the modern monetary system to a few excellent resources. First and foremost is Perry Mehrling’s incredible lecture series Money and Banking. I am grateful he has made these available for free. He introduced me to the idea of the “hierarchy of money”, although my understanding is that others predate him in using this phrase, notably Hyman Minksy. I also found the Bank of England’s whitepaper Money Creation in the Modern Economy unusually clear about what money creation actually is. And finally, Joseph Wang’s book Central Banking 101 reinforced much of my understanding from the first two resources.
Basket village
Acknowledgements. The left column is Gregory Gundersen’s, reproduced here for parallel commentary; read him in the original. I owe the same debts he names — Mehrling, the Bank of England, Wang — and one more: Richard Werner’s demonstration that a bank’s sheet grows on both sides when it “lends.” The three-money taxonomy, the two-contract mortgage, and the elevator that does not charge interest on your grain are from The Missing Monetary Element. The BUCK itself — issuance against attested, insured wealth, at a cap, a carrying fee on the limit, held to a commodity basket — is the Alberta Buck. The stone village is how we live. The gold village, and then the basket, is the same operations named as two events: issuance is a lien plus a carrying fee; a loan is interest on an amount someone actually parted with.
Left column © Gregory Gundersen, The Hierarchy of Money (20 September 2026), reproduced for commentary. Right column: Perry Kundert, 2026.