Centralisation Only Rewards Those at The Centre

For months I’ve been writing about The Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS) and The Basic Living Standard. Yet I’m always aware of a deeper challenge: until people truly see the mechanics of the money‑centric system we live in – not just the symptoms, but the structure – the need for a paradigm shift can feel abstract.

The irony is that the evidence sits in front of us every day. The system hides in plain sight. But because we have been conditioned to treat money as the unquestionable centre of life, we rarely recognise how deeply it shapes our behaviour, our morality, our relationships, our communities, and even our understanding of what it means to be human.

Money today is not simply a medium of exchange. It has become the organising principle of society – the lens through which value is defined, the gatekeeper of freedom, the arbiter of worth, and the mechanism through which power is accumulated. And because money has been elevated to this position, the consequences extend far beyond currency itself. They reach into motivation, identity, governance, and the very structure of our lives.

This is why centralisation exists.

This is why it grows.

This is why it always rewards those at the centre – and harms everyone else.

The money–power–centralisation equation

The relationship is simple:

Money → Wealth → Power → Control → Centralisation

Everyone understands this at some level. Even those with the least money know that having money gives them more control over their own lives.

But as you move up the hierarchy of the money‑centric system, the dynamic changes. Money no longer gives control over your own life – it gives control over other people’s lives.

And once that dynamic exists, centralisation becomes inevitable.

Centralisation is not an accident.

It is not a side‑effect.

It is the natural outcome of a system built on scarcity, hierarchy, and accumulation.

The more money someone has, the more they can centralise power. The more power they centralise, the more money they can extract.

The cycle feeds itself.

This is the architecture of the money‑centric paradigm.

What centralisation really is

People often imagine centralisation as a simple chain of command. But in reality, it is a network of overlapping chains – each one transferring power, ownership, and influence upward, away from the people affected by decisions and toward a distant centre.

Every chain works the same way:

  • power flows upward
  • responsibility flows downward
  • accountability disappears
  • humanity is lost

And because these chains replicate across every sector – politics, business, food, media, technology, governance – they form a vast web of dependency and control.

Centralisation is not just structural.

It is psychological.
It is cultural.
It is economic.
It is moral.

It is the mechanism through which the money‑centric system maintains itself.

The trick: centralisation is sold as “efficiency”

One of the most effective illusions of the money-centric system is the way centralisation is presented as:

  • reasonable
  • intelligent
  • cost‑effective
  • efficient
  • modern
  • inevitable

People are told that centralisation “reduces duplication”, “streamlines services”, “saves money”, or “improves coordination”.

But the truth is simple:

Centralisation always reduces the number of people with power.

It always increases the distance between decision‑makers and those affected.

It always concentrates wealth and influence in fewer hands.

And because distance removes empathy, centralisation always leads to dehumanisation.

Where we see centralisation at work

You can see the pattern everywhere:

  • Politics – power pulled upward into party machines, donor networks, and distant executives.
  • Government – “devolution” used as a cover for regional centralisation, reducing local representation and increasing control from Westminster.
  • Globalisation – local economies hollowed out as production and decision‑making move offshore.
  • Corporate structures – small businesses replaced by multinational giants.
  • Supply chains – farmers and producers trapped by supermarket monopolies.

In every case, the story is the same:

Centralisation removes local agency and transfers power upward.

The dehumanisation effect

As centralisation grows, the number of links between people and the centre increases. Each link removes a layer of humanity.

When decision‑makers have no direct contact with the people affected by their decisions, they stop seeing them as people at all.

This is why:

  • Policies harm communities without anyone taking responsibility
  • Corporations exploit workers and environments without remorse
  • Governments impose rules without understanding consequences
  • Systems become cold, bureaucratic, and indifferent

Centralisation creates distance.

Distance removes empathy.

Lack of empathy enables harm.

This is the psychological architecture of the money‑centric world.

The damage centralisation has caused

We have been told for decades that centralisation “makes life easier” and “reduces cost”. But the lived reality is the opposite:

  • People cannot afford to live independently on a minimum wage.
  • Communities have lost identity, cohesion, and purpose.
  • Local businesses have been replaced by corporate monoliths.
  • Supply chains have become fragile and exploitative.
  • The environment has been degraded for profit.
  • Wealth has been transferred upward at unprecedented speed.

Centralisation has not reduced cost.

It has redistributed cost – downward.

Onto the people least able to bear it.

This is not a glitch. It is the design.

Localisation: the antithesis of centralisation

Centralisation only exists because the system is built on hierarchy, scarcity, and accumulation.

Remove those foundations, and centralisation has no purpose.

This is why genuine localisation – not the fake “devolution” offered by governments, but true community‑level autonomy – is the natural alternative.

Local systems:

  • Operate without hierarchy
  • Are built on relationships
  • Are grounded in lived reality
  • Prioritise needs over profit
  • Are transparent and accountable
  • Reconnect people to the consequences of decisions

People trust local leadership because it is human, visible, and accountable.

They do not trust distant leaders they never meet, cannot reach, and did not choose.

Locality is the natural scale of human systems. Centralisation is the unnatural one.

Why this matters now

Centralisation is not just a political or economic issue.

It is the structural expression of the money‑centric worldview.

And because the money‑centric system is collapsing – financially, socially, environmentally, morally – the centralised structures built upon it are collapsing too.

This is the doorway moment.

We can continue rearranging the furniture inside a collapsing room.

Or we can step through the doorway into a new paradigm – one built on locality, contribution, community, and human dignity.

Centralisation is the problem.

Localisation is the solution.

LEGS is the structure that makes localisation possible.

The Basic Living Standard is the foundation that makes it humane.

The Revaluation is the shift in consciousness that makes it visible.

Once you see the doorway, you cannot unsee it.

And once you understand centralisation, you understand why nothing will change until we leave the old room behind.

The Pub Crisis: How an Industry Lost Its Soul – And Why Tax Isn’t the Real Villain

The pub and hospitality industry is in free fall today. Yet, like so many other struggling sectors, it clings to a comforting illusion: that the problems it faces are entirely within the government’s control, and that salvation will come if only our MPs can be persuaded to “see things their way.”

But this belief blinds us to a deeper truth. The crisis facing pubs is not a sudden collapse brought on by taxation, changing tastes, or even the aftermath of the pandemic – although they certainly haven’t helped. It is the result of decades of structural damage – political, commercial, and cultural – that has hollowed out an industry once rooted in community life.

To understand what has gone wrong, we have to remember what pubs used to be. Not drinking venues. Not branded experiences. Not “hospitality units.” But social anchors. Community mirrors. Places where the character of the landlord and the character of the neighbourhood shaped each other in ways no corporate model could ever replicate.

This is the story of how that world was dismantled – slowly, quietly, and often deliberately – and why the solutions being demanded today fail to address the real causes of the decline – no matter how logical they might seem.

The Forgotten Role of Pubs – And Why Their Collapse Makes No Sense at First Glance

The pub is not the only part of British life now in free fall. Farms, social clubs, small independent businesses – many of the sectors that once formed the backbone of our communities – are also struggling or disappearing entirely.

What those working within these businesses all share is a growing sense of frustration and confusion, because on the surface their collapse simply doesn’t make sense.

These are industries that should be thriving. They provide essential services, meet real human needs, and have deep cultural value. Yet they are being destroyed by forces that are not immediately obvious, leading many to assume that government policy alone must be to blame.

But the truth is more complicated.

If we strip alcohol out of the equation and look at pubs in the most obvious, human way possible, their purpose becomes clear. Pubs were once what coffee shops are today – everyday social spaces – but with one crucial difference: they existed in every community, no matter how remote. They were part of the social infrastructure long before commercialism, branding, and legislation began dictating what a “successful” venue should look like.

And just like farms, social clubs, and other small community-rooted businesses, pubs are now being undermined by structural changes that most people never see. That is why so many closures feel illogical. It’s not because demand has vanished. It’s because the systems that once allowed these places to thrive have been quietly dismantled.

The Price of a Pint: A Treat, Not a Habit

Today, publicans – whether freeholders, leaseholders, tenants, or self-employed managers dressed up with misleading titles like “partners” – look at the taxes hitting their industry from every angle and genuinely believe that tax breaks will save them. They see the closures (around 500 pubs since Labour came to power alone) and conclude that taxation is the root of the crisis.

As a consumer and a fan of real ales from regional and microbreweries – and of high-quality lagers like Jeremy Clarkson’s Hawkstone – I understand the frustration. The maths of going out for a drink simply doesn’t add up anymore. In Cheltenham, you can expect to pay £5–£7 a pint in many of the town’s best locals. Meanwhile, supermarkets will sell you three or four times the volume for the same price.

Going to the pub has become a treat, not a habit. It’s easy to look at that reality and blame taxation alone.

But that would be a mistake.

A Personal Window Into the Industry

When I was elected chair of a local licensing authority, I was often greeted with the same wry comment: “Poacher turned gamekeeper.” It made me laugh, not least because I’ve always been fascinated by the industry and what access to a local pub really means.

I also remember firsthand what went on behind the scenes when my father bought and ran a pub – the Airport Inn in Gloucestershire – in the late eighties. Anyone who has grown up around pubs knows that you absorb the industry through osmosis. You see things others don’t. You understand the mechanics, the pressures, the culture.

Looking back over the past 30–40 years, the changes I’ve witnessed form the foundations of the crisis we face today. And these problems were visible long before COVID, long before austerity or the cost-of-living crisis, and long before politicians decided that taxation was their only tool.

When Being a Publican Was a Respected, Rewarding Career

In the 1980s, being a publican was a respected job – and a well-paid one. Yes, the hours were brutal and the work relentless, but the rewards matched the effort. Whether you were a freeholder, leaseholder, or tenant, you could:

• earn a solid income

• drive an executive car

• send your children to private school

• take a proper annual holiday

• run a business with healthy margins

And all of this was possible even in “wet-led” pubs that sold no food at all.

The drinks range was limited, often produced by the brewery that owned the pub. But it didn’t matter. The breweries were happy. The publicans were happy. The customers were happy. The supply chain worked. And most importantly, people didn’t need 40 brands of lager to enjoy themselves. The value was in the social interaction – the incalculable benefit of being out with people you knew – or spent enough time with to get to know.

The Slow, Quiet Collapse Begins

People who lived through these decades often look at the closure of once-successful pubs and assume the cause is obvious:

• “People can’t afford to drink like they used to.”

• “Tastes have changed.”

• “People don’t drink alcohol anymore.”

But these explanations miss the real story.

In the 1980s, the Thatcher government was pushed – by the EU’s single, common or rather free-market agenda – into opening the UK market to European brewers. This meant big British brewers like Whitbread, which had a major brewery in Cheltenham, were forced to sell hundreds of pubs because they could no longer own large, tied estates.

This single policy decision changed everything.

The Rise of the PubCo – And the Death of the Traditional Pub Model

The vast pub estates put up for sale were snapped up by hedge funds and financiers who had no interest in pubs, communities, or hospitality. They were interested in one thing only: profit extraction.

This was the birth of the PubCo.

PubCos redesigned the entire tenancy and leasehold system. They introduced:

• complex and restrictive beer ties

• inflated wholesale prices

• charges on gaming machines

• inflated rents

• fees on everything they could monetise

They sold the dream of “running your own pub” while stripping away every mechanism that once allowed publicans to succeed.

The old culture – “there’s enough for everyone to do well” –  was replaced by a new one:

“Money is the only thing that matters. You’ll earn just enough to survive, as long as you treat the business like it’s yours – without ever receiving the rewards of ownership.”

Pubs Treated Like Franchises – When They Are Nothing Like Franchises

Sadly, whilst there are some breweries that still recognise the value a good tenant or leaseholder brings, the changes that created this crisis eventually came from other directions too. The model of stepping beyond rent and a simple beer tie – and instead extracting profit from every function within the business – became irresistible to many traditional owners too.

This is where the industry took a disastrous turn.

Pubs began to be treated like franchises. But they are nothing like franchises.

A true franchise provides:

• a proven business model

• consistent branding

• centralised support

• shared risk

• shared reward

A good pub is the opposite. A good pub is a person. A personality. A living reflection of the community it serves.

No two pubs are the same when they are run properly, because no two communities are the same.

The character of the landlord, the regulars, the local culture – these are the ingredients that make a pub work.

Yet PubCos and some breweries imposed franchise-style controls without offering any of the support or stability that makes franchising viable. They demanded the discipline and the financial commitment of a franchisee, but provided none of the tools, protections, or shared success. They extracted value while giving nothing back.

This fundamental misunderstanding – or deliberate disregard – of what a pub actually is has been one of the most destructive forces in the industry’s decline.

The Human Cost: A Cycle of Exploitation

The impact was catastrophic.

People signed up to run pubs that should still be profitable today, but they were doomed from the moment they signed. PubCos loaded them with artificially inflated costs, took profit from every angle, and left them responsible for everything.

Many were bankrupted. Many lost their homes. Many lost their savings. And the system didn’t care – because there was always another hopeful applicant ready to step in.

A good pub can take years to build. It can be destroyed overnight. And when a struggling pub changes hands under the same broken model, the lost business doesn’t magically return – no matter what the regional manager promises.

Communities Lose Out – The Real Cost of a Broken System

The most painful part of this crisis is not what happens to the operators, as devastating as that is. It’s what happens to the communities left behind.

A pub is not just a commercial unit. It is a social space, a point of connection, a place where people who might never otherwise meet share the same room, the same stories, the same sense of belonging. When a pub closes, the loss is not measured in pints sold but in relationships that no longer form, conversations that no longer happen, and the quiet isolation that grows in the gaps where community life used to be.

And this is the part that makes the decline so hard for many people to understand. In countless towns and villages, the demand for a local pub still exists. People still want somewhere to go. They still want the familiarity, the warmth, the human contact. But the structures that once allowed pubs to survive – fair rents, reasonable margins, supportive ownership – have been replaced by systems that strip value out faster than any community can put it back in.

So pubs close not because they are unwanted, but because they are unviable under the models imposed on them. And when they go, something irreplaceable disappears from the emotional and social landscape of the place they served.

What We Lose When a Pub Closes

The tragedy of the modern pub crisis is that it has been reduced to a debate about tax, taste, or government neglect. Those issues matter, but they are not the heart of the problem. The real story is far more structural – and far more uncomfortable.

Pubs didn’t disappear because people stopped wanting them. They disappeared because the foundations that once allowed them to thrive were quietly dismantled. Ownership shifted from brewers who understood the trade to financial entities that saw pubs only as assets. Fair margins were replaced with extraction. Community-rooted businesses were forced into models that treated them like generic units, even though nothing about a real pub is generic.

And when a pub closes, the loss is not just economic. It is social. Cultural. Human.

A pub is one of the few places where people of different ages, backgrounds, incomes, and beliefs naturally mix. It is where friendships form, where loneliness is eased, where local life becomes visible and shared. When that disappears, the community doesn’t just lose a business – it loses a piece of itself.

If we want pubs to survive, the conversation must move beyond short-term fixes and political sticking plasters. We have to confront the deeper truth: pubs cannot be run like franchises, squeezed like assets, or managed through models designed for industries that bear no resemblance to them. They must be allowed to be what they always were – reflections of the communities they serve, shaped by people who care about them and supported by structures that make their survival possible.

Until we face that reality, the decline will continue – no matter what government does, and no matter how many people still want a place to gather, talk, laugh, and belong.

We Can’t Fix Society Because We Won’t Question Money

Everywhere you look, people are trying to fix society. Politicians, academics, thinkers, campaigners, charities, business leaders – all of them offering ideas, strategies, and “solutions” for the problems we’re facing.

And yet, for all the effort, nothing really changes. If anything, things seem to get worse.

People feel more frustrated, more exhausted, and more convinced that something fundamental is broken.

A couple of years ago, when I was doing a postgraduate programme at the Royal Agricultural University, I had one of those moments where something you’ve always felt suddenly becomes clear. I was surrounded by people who genuinely understood the issues around food, farming, and policy. They weren’t clueless. They weren’t uncaring. They weren’t lacking intelligence or experience.

But when the conversation turned to solutions – real solutions, the kind that would actually change the direction of society and the industry and sectors they were teaching about, something became painfully obvious.

Everyone was thinking inside the same box.

Not because they lacked imagination. Not because they didn’t want change. But because they couldn’t step outside the one assumption that sits beneath everything we do.

Money.

Not money as a simple tool.
Not money as a way to exchange value.
But money as the centre of our entire value system – the thing everything else must revolve around.

And that’s when it hit me:

We can’t fix society because we refuse to question the thing that defines it.

The Paradigm We Don’t See

People know society is broken.

They feel it every day.

They write books about it, make documentaries about it, argue about it online, and vote based on it.

But almost nobody questions the paradigm itself.

Every proposed solution – no matter how radical it sounds – still assumes:

  • money must remain the organising principle
  • the economy must remain the master
  • value must be measured financially
  • progress must be tied to growth
  • risk must be calculated in monetary terms
  • success must be defined by income, wealth, or profit

Even the most well‑meaning reformers try to fix the system from inside the system.

And that’s why nothing works.

You can’t fix a paradigm from within the paradigm.

You can’t solve a problem using the logic that created it.

You can’t build a better world while clinging to the very assumptions that make the current one impossible to repair.

Yet that’s exactly what we keep doing.

The Money and Economic System we have isn’t Neutral – It’s the Problem

This is the part people struggle with, because we’ve been conditioned to treat money as if it’s some kind of natural law.

But money, as it exists today, isn’t neutral.

It isn’t harmless.

It isn’t just “a tool we’ve misused.”

Money today is the operating system of a harmful paradigm.

It creates dependency.
It creates hierarchy.
It creates artificial scarcity.
It creates fear.
It creates inequality as a mathematical certainty, not a moral accident.
It shapes our sense of value until we can barely recognise what matters anymore.

And because money sits at the centre of our value system, everything else – people, community, the environment – becomes negotiable.

Once something becomes negotiable, it becomes expendable.

That’s why the system feels cruel.
That’s why it feels rigged.
That’s why it keeps producing outcomes that nobody actually wants.

This isn’t a glitch.

It’s the design.

Why We Stay Trapped

People can’t imagine a world that isn’t built around the money system we have now.

They can’t picture value without price.
They can’t picture security without income.
They can’t picture contribution without employment.
They can’t picture community without commerce.
They can’t picture governance without budgets.

So when they look for solutions, they try to carry all of that with them.

They want a better world…

But they want to take the old world with them.

They want change…

As long as nothing fundamental has to change.

They want transformation…

As long as the money paradigm remains untouched.

This is why every solution ends up protecting the problem.

The Doorway We Keep Walking Past

There is another way.

There is a different paradigm.

There is a world beyond the money‑centric system.

But you can’t see it until you stop worshipping the current one.

And I’m not asking anyone to leap into the unknown or accept a fully formed alternative.
I’m not asking anyone to imagine a world without exchange or structure.
I’m not even asking anyone to agree with me.

All I’m saying is this:

There’s a doorway here that almost nobody is looking at.

You don’t have to step through it today.

You don’t have to picture everything on the other side.

You don’t have to commit to anything.

But at the very least, we should be willing to turn toward it and admit that it exists.

Because once you see the doorway, you can’t unsee it.

And once you realise that every solution we’ve tried has been trapped inside the same room, the idea of looking beyond it stops feeling radical – and starts feeling like common sense.

We can keep rearranging the furniture.
We can keep repainting the walls.
We can keep arguing about where the chairs should go.

Or we can finally acknowledge that the room itself is the problem – and that stepping through that doorway is the only way anything truly changes.

The Free Market Myth

For decades, the idea of free trade has been sold as a universal good – a rising tide that lifts all boats. It’s a comforting story: remove barriers, unleash competition, and watch innovation flourish while consumers enjoy lower prices.

But like many economic myths, it’s built on a partial truth. And when you look closely at what “free trade” actually produces, the picture becomes far less idyllic.

The Popular Illusion: Freedom for All Businesses

Ask most people what free trade means, and you’ll hear a version of the same belief: businesses are free to do what they want. No red tape. No meddling. Just pure competition.

But that’s not how free trade works in practice. The “freedom” it promises is selective – and it rarely benefits the small, local, or community‑focused businesses that form the backbone of healthy economies.

What Free Trade Really Removes: Protections That Serve the Public

Before the era of deregulation and globalisation, many rules existed not to stifle business, but to protect essential services and ensure broad access. These protections supported:

• Local availability of goods and services, even in less profitable regions

• High quality standards that weren’t optional

• Customer service expectations that required real human labour

• Small‑scale enterprises that employed more people and reinvested in their communities

Free trade reframes these protections as “barriers.” Once removed, the businesses that relied on them – often the ones most embedded in local life – are left exposed to global giants with entirely different priorities.

The Hidden Costs: Jobs, Communities, and SelfSufficiency

The promise of cheaper goods has come with a steep price. As protections fall and markets open, small businesses struggle to compete with multinational corporations that can undercut them on cost alone. The result is a slow erosion of:

• Local jobs, replaced by distant supply chains

• Community cohesion, as local shops and services disappear

• National self‑sufficiency, as essential industries move offshore

The economic landscape becomes more efficient on paper, but far more fragile in reality.

The Rise of Monopolies Disguised as “Efficiency”

Free trade champions often point to economies of scale as the ultimate justification: bigger companies can produce goods more cheaply, so everyone wins.

But this logic ignores what happens next.

Large corporations use their size to squeeze out smaller competitors, often selling goods at unsustainably low prices until the competition collapses. Once they dominate the market, prices rise – sometimes repeatedly – because there’s no one left to challenge them.

What began as “competition” ends as consolidation.

Power Begets Power: How Big Business Shapes the Rules

As markets consolidate, the largest players gain not just economic power but political influence. They use it to:

• Lobby for legislation that cements their dominance

• Rewrite rules to disadvantage smaller rivals

• Deploy legal teams to intimidate or exhaust independent businesses through civil courts

The free-market myth suggests that the best business wins. In reality, the biggest business wins – often by shaping the playing field itself.

The Myth Exposed

Free trade is not a neutral force. It is a deliberate restructuring of the economy that privileges scale over community, efficiency over resilience, and corporate power over democratic control.

The partial truth – that removing barriers can increase competition – obscures the deeper reality: without protections, the market doesn’t become freer. It becomes captured.

And once captured, it serves the interests of the few, not the many.

As AI Ends Work: Waking Up to the Illusion of UBI – and the Need for a New System

How the End of Work Exposes the Crisis of a Broken System

The Collapse of the Money-centric System

Value is the foundation of human life. It shapes how we live, how we relate to one another, and what we believe matters. Wherever we place value – and whatever we collectively agree has value – becomes the organising principle of our behaviour, our systems, and ultimately our civilisation. The value set we adopt determines not only how we live today, but the consequences that unfold tomorrow.

For most of human history, and certainly in the world we share today, the dominant value set is built around money. Not human experience. Not community. Not contribution. Not wellbeing. Money.

Our governments, institutions, systems of governance, economies, and the very fabric of daily life all orbit this single construct. Everything has become transactional because the value of money – what it costs, what we earn, what we accumulate, what we attract, what we are given – has become the lens through which we make decisions about the present and the future. Our interpretation of how money works, or how it has worked in the past, has become the compass by which we navigate life.

But the problem with money is not new. It began the moment money stopped being a simple medium of exchange – a tool to facilitate trade – and instead became the store of value itself, the point and purpose of value, the thing we pursued for its own sake.

This shift was accepted because it appeared logical, even sensible. It seemed like common sense. Yet in reality, it was the easy option – the lazy option – and it became the pivot point that set humanity on a path that would eventually lead us away from ourselves.

What few people have ever recognised – and fewer still have been willing to challenge – is that once money became the centre of value, our focus shifted away from people and the human experience. Instead, we became fixated on money itself, and then on the power, position, control, and influence that money could buy.

Human life became stratified by how much or how little of it we possessed. Success became synonymous with wealth. Poverty became synonymous with failure. And the human experience was reduced to a spectrum between rich and poor.

Over time, this became normalised. Wealth and poverty have existed for so long, in so many forms and nuances, that most people accept the wealth divide as a natural feature of life. Many even believe it is acceptable – that some should thrive while others go without, that some should have more than they could ever need while others struggle to meet the basics of life.

The dynamic has only worsened. The transition from feudalism to industrialisation was celebrated as progress, but the underlying imbalance remained. The gap between those who have and those who have not continued to widen. Eventually, it reached a point where no rule, regulation, or law could meaningfully correct it. The imbalance had become embedded in the system itself.

And as always, more wants more. The existence of social classes, and the aspiration to climb them, was never enough.

A point came when the elites – those who already held power – realised that if they wanted to accumulate even more, they would have to change the rules of the game. And who was there to stop them? They already controlled everything.

People talk endlessly about new world orders, Fabianism, the WEF, and other groups. But regardless of the motivations or the plans behind these movements and those who run and influence any government, the reality is simple: any value system has a finite total value within it, even if it grows. That value moves depending on the actions – whatever the motivation and whether conscious or unconscious – of those who control the system.

Under a ring‑fenced money system, such as the gold standard, no new money can be created. The total value is fixed. Even if the scales of wealth are pushed to their limits, the wealthy cannot accumulate beyond the system’s natural ceiling. They can own a lot, but they cannot conjure the value out of thin air that would enable the few to own and control everything.

This system – flawed as it most certainly was – remained in place until 1971. And only when we understand what changed in that moment can we understand what has happened to us since.

The creation of the fiat money system, which allowed those in control to create money at will, enabled the greatest transfer of wealth in human history. It allowed the already wealthy to become unimaginably wealthier by creating money that could then be used to buy everything of real value – businesses, infrastructure, land, resources, and the essentials of community life.

Ownership and power were transferred to people who could never have acquired them under a value system grounded in reality. The new system was built on methods that were dishonest and fundamentally false.

Ordinary people didn’t question it. Why would they? Their value system – money – still looked the same. A pound was still a pound. A dollar was still a dollar. But the reality had changed completely.

This is why life today looks so different from life 60 or 70 years ago. There are anomalies everywhere. A single average wage once supported a family, bought a home, and provided security. Today, even the national minimum wage is not enough for one person to survive without benefits, charity, or debt.

Because money is the centre of value, people have been conditioned to believe that if they have what they want, everything is fine. So the consequences of the fiat system – what it has done to people, communities, and the environment – have not been treated as the priority they should have been.

The West has been told that the last 80 years have been peaceful, that there are no real problems ahead, and that nothing fundamental could ever change. Meanwhile, laws, working practices, and – most importantly – technology have changed at an accelerating pace. Everything has changed while we believed we were standing still.

We can see clearly what the Industrial Revolution did. We understand why the labour movement emerged. Industrialisation devalued human effort by replacing or reducing the need for human labour with machines wherever it could be done.

Yet we have failed to notice the evolution happening beneath our feet today. People believe the world still works as it did after the Second World War. Very few see the catastrophe unfolding around us: the next great technological shift – the rise and takeover of AI.

Just as people once accepted that machines would replace or reduce the need for manual labour, many now accept that AI will replace cognitive labour. And they assume this means nobody will have to work.

There is a dangerous collective assumption that technology has been created for the betterment of humanity. But the reality is that modern technology – especially AI – has been developed for profit and control, not for helping and supporting humanity.

If it had been created to improve life, we would already be living in a world where even the poorest had enough, where jobs were secure, and where technology enhanced life rather than replacing it.

Instead, we are living through a neoliberal, globalist model powered by fiat money – a model that extracts value from people and concentrates it in the hands of a few.

Even the architects of this system know it cannot work. That is why figures like Sam Altman now promote UBI – Universal Basic Income – as the supposed solution, for the fast-approaching time when for growing numbers, there will no longer be any kind of work.

The Fiat Era, AI, and the False Promise of UBI

UBI has been tested in small‑scale trials around the world. The idea is simple: everyone receives a set amount of income, regardless of what they do. It is appealing because it promises security in a world where jobs are disappearing. It reassures people that even if AI replaces their work, they will still be able to live the life they know today.

But this belief rests on a dangerous misunderstanding.

People assume UBI means they will continue to live as they do now – with the same homes, the same comforts, the same access to goods and services – simply without needing to work. They imagine a world where machines do everything, and humans simply enjoy the benefits.

This is fantasy.

UBI, in the context of the system we have today, is idealism built on a lie. It assumes that money can be endlessly created to pay off debts that already represent money that does not exist. It assumes that the system can continue functioning even as the economic role of billions of people disappears. It assumes that those who own everything will willingly fund the lives of those who own nothing.

The technological revolution – and the speed at which it has unfolded – was only possible because of the fiat money system. A system that survives only because enough people still believe in it. A system where most people already own nothing, and where the underlying structure is already broken.

The people who own everything – the corporations, the financial institutions, the elites who control the levers of power – cannot run a world where machines do all the work and billions of people contribute nothing.

The equation does not balance.

A system where everyone takes but no one contributes cannot function.

UBI is simply a tool to maintain the illusion that money still matters, that the system still works, and that people still need the very system that is failing them.

If we continue removing jobs at the current rate, a point will come – soon – when people outside the protected classes will have no means to survive. Not because they lack ability. Not because they lack willingness. But because the system will no longer have a place for them.

The question is not whether technology is good or bad. Technology can be used to advance humanity. But the reality we face is that AI has been developed to remove human involvement, not to improve human life. It has been built to maximise profit, minimise cost, and eliminate the “problem” of human labour.

And this is where the truth becomes unavoidable:

UBI will not save us.
It cannot save us.
It was never designed to.

UBI is the last tool of a dying system – a sticking plaster on a wound that requires surgery. It is the final illusion offered by a worldview that has already collapsed under its own contradictions.

The dam is cracking.
The pressure is rising.
And UBI cannot hold it back.

There is another way – a way of living that embraces technology without using it to replace or devalue people. A way built on local economies and local governance, with the Basic Living Standard at its heart. A way that restores human value, dignity, and sovereignty.

A time is approaching – sooner than most realise – when we will have to choose. We can continue sleepwalking down the path we are on, a path controlled by a few, where most will find neither benefit nor happiness. Or we can choose to walk a different way – a way where each of us contributes, participates, and lives with genuine freedom and sovereignty.

The alternative may flatten hierarchies, decentralise power, and remove the obscene concentrations of wealth that exist today. But it will also create lives worth living – lives grounded in peace, purpose, and the true human value that comes from within us, not from the money system that has defined us for far too long.

The Turning Point: Why UBI Cannot Save a Collapsing System

UBI is being sold as a compassionate solution, a stabiliser, a safety net for a world without work. But the truth is far more uncomfortable:

UBI is the final illusion of a system that has already collapsed in every meaningful way.

It is the last tool available to a worldview that cannot admit its own failure. It is the final attempt to preserve a structure that has been unravelling for decades – a structure built on false value, false scarcity, false growth, and false promises.

The destruction of jobs was not an accident.
It was not an unfortunate by‑product of progress.
It was a deliberate choice – a choice made by those who benefit from a world where human beings are no longer required.

The system has been moving toward this point for generations:

  • first by replacing physical labour with machines
  • then by replacing skilled labour with automation
  • now by replacing cognitive labour with AI

At each stage, the justification was the same: progress.

At each stage, the consequences were the same: displacement.

At each stage, the winners were the same: those who already held power.

And now, as the final stage unfolds, the system has run out of excuses – and out of time.

The truth is simple:

A society built on money cannot survive when people no longer earn it.

A society built on work cannot survive when people no longer have it.

A society built on consumption cannot survive when people cannot afford to consume.

UBI does not solve this.
It cannot solve this.
It was never designed to solve this.

UBI is a sedative – a way to keep people calm while the system collapses around them. It is a way to delay the moment when the public realises that the world they were promised no longer exists.

But the dam is cracking.
The pressure is rising.
And UBI cannot hold it back.

A world where billions of people have no economic role is not a world that can be stabilised with monthly payments.

It is a world that requires a complete rethinking of value, contribution, governance, and the purpose of human life.

And that is where the real alternative begins.

The Alternative: A System That Solves the Root Causes

If UBI is the last illusion of a dying system, then the question becomes unavoidable:

What replaces it?

Not a reform.
Not a patch.
Not a new policy within the old worldview.

What replaces it must be a new operating system for society – one that addresses the root causes of the crisis, not the symptoms. One that works with human nature, not against it. One that restores dignity, purpose, and sovereignty to every person.

That system exists.

It is called the Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS), and it is built on four pillars:

  • The Revaluation
  • The Basic Living Standard
  • The Contribution Culture
  • Personal Sovereignty

Together, they form a coherent, humane, practical alternative to the collapsing money-centric world.

1. The Revaluation: Changing What We Value

The crisis we face did not begin with fiat money.
It did not begin with globalisation.
It did not begin with AI.

It began with a value system that placed money above people.

The Revaluation is the shift from:

Money-centric value → human centric value

It is the moment we stop measuring life through:

  • price
  • profit
  • productivity
  • accumulation

and begin measuring it through:

  • wellbeing
  • contribution
  • community
  • dignity
  • sustainability
  • fairness

Without this shift, nothing else can work.

With it, everything else becomes possible.

2. The Basic Living Standard: Security as a Universal Right

The Basic Living Standard (BLS) is not UBI.
It is not a handout.
It is not dependency.

It is a guarantee that every person can meet their essential needs – food, shelter, energy, water, healthcare, and participation – from a normal week’s contribution.

It breaks the link between survival and employment.
It removes fear, insecurity, and dependency.
It ensures that no one can fall below the basics of life.

And unlike UBI, it is not funded by printing money or taxing a collapsing economy.
It is built into the structure of the local economy itself.

The BLS is the economic foundation of a people‑first society.

3. The Contribution Culture: Work as Meaning, Not Survival

The Contribution Culture replaces the toxic idea that:

“If you don’t work, you don’t deserve to live.”

with:

“Everyone who can contribute, contributes – because contribution is meaningful, valued, and secure.”

In a Contribution Culture:

  • work is not coerced
  • work is not a punishment
  • work is not a transaction
  • work is not a competition
  • work is not a fight for survival

Work becomes:

  • participation
  • purpose
  • community
  • shared responsibility
  • a source of dignity

This is the cultural foundation of the alternative – and the antidote to the crisis of work in an AI‑dominated world.

4. LEGS: The Local Economy & Governance System

LEGS is the structural foundation – the practical framework that makes the Revaluation, the BLS, and the Contribution Culture real.

It is built on:

  • local economies
  • local food systems
  • local governance
  • participatory democracy
  • shared responsibility
  • transparency
  • decentralisation

LEGS solves the problems that have existed since long before fiat:

  • centralised power
  • hierarchical control
  • distance between decision‑makers and consequences
  • systems that cannot see the ground
  • economies that treat people as units
  • governance that manages people instead of serving them

And it solves the problems that fiat accelerated:

  • extraction
  • inequality
  • speculation
  • debt dependency
  • the illusion of infinite value

And it solves the problems that AI will make catastrophic:

  • the removal of jobs
  • the collapse of income
  • the loss of agency
  • the erosion of sovereignty
  • the concentration of power in the hands of a few

LEGS is not a policy.

It is a new operating system for society.

5. Personal Sovereignty: The Human Foundation

Personal sovereignty is the right – and responsibility – of every individual to live as a free, ethical, self‑directed human being.

It is protected through:

  • security
  • transparency
  • locality
  • shared responsibility
  • meaningful contribution

The money-centric system destroys sovereignty by creating dependency through UBI.

LEGS restores sovereignty by creating participation.

Why LEGS Works Where UBI Cannot

UBI tries to preserve the old system.
LEGS replaces it.

UBI depends on money.
LEGS depends on contribution.

UBI centralises power.
LEGS decentralises it.

UBI treats people as passive recipients.
LEGS treats people as active participants.

UBI assumes scarcity.
LEGS builds natural abundance.

UBI keeps people dependent.
LEGS restores personal sovereignty.

UBI is temporary.
LEGS is sustainable.

UBI is the illusion of security.
LEGS is the reality of it.

The Choice Ahead

Humanity is approaching a moment where the old system will no longer function – not because of fiat, not because of politics, but because AI will remove the economic role of billions of people.

UBI cannot solve this.

It was never meant to.

The only real alternative is a system that:

  • restores human value
  • guarantees security
  • redefines work
  • decentralises power
  • rebuilds community
  • and places people first in every sense

That system exists.

It is coherent.
It is humane.
It is practical.
It is necessary.

It is the Local Economy & Governance System, built on the Basic Living Standard, the Contribution Culture, and the Revaluation.

This is not a dream.
It is not a theory.
It is not a utopia.

It is the only path that deals with the root causes – not just the symptoms – of the unravelling we are living through.

And the time to choose it is now.

Further Reading:

1. An Overview of a People-First Society

https://adamtugwell.blog/2026/01/03/an-overview-of-a-people-first-society/
Why it’s critical: This article lays out the philosophical foundation for a people-centric society, directly addressing the shift away from money-centric values. It’s essential for grasping the big-picture vision that underpins all other proposals in this document.

2. The Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS): Online Text

https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/11/21/the-local-economy-governance-system-online-text/
Why it’s critical: This is the definitive resource on LEGS, the proposed alternative to the money-centric system that may soon look to UBI. It explains the system’s structure, principles, and practical mechanisms for replacing the current economic model. If you want to understand the practical solution, start here.

3. The Basic Living Standard: Explained

https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/10/24/the-basic-living-standard-explained/
Why it’s critical: This article clarifies the concept of the Basic Living Standard (BLS), a cornerstone of the LEGS system. It distinguishes BLS from UBI and explains why it’s a more sustainable and empowering approach.

4. The Contribution Culture: Transforming Work, Business, and Governance for Our Local Future with LEGS

https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/12/30/the-contribution-culture-transforming-work-business-and-governance-for-our-local-future-with-legs/
Why it’s critical: This article explores how LEGS redefines work and contribution, moving away from survival-based employment to meaningful participation. It’s vital for understanding the cultural transformation needed for the new system to succeed.

5. The Local Economy Governance System (LEGS): Escaping the AI Takeover and Building a Human Future

https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/12/04/the-local-economy-governance-system-legs-escaping-the-ai-takeover-and-building-a-human-future/
Why it’s critical: This piece directly addresses the impact of AI on work and society, and how LEGS offers a human-centred response to technological disruption. It’s especially relevant for readers concerned about the future of employment.

Why These Are Critical

These articles collectively provide:

  • The philosophical rationale for change.
  • A detailed blueprint for the proposed alternative system.
  • Clear explanations of the foundational concepts (BLS and Contribution Culture).
  • Direct responses to the challenges posed by AI and the collapse of traditional work.