A response to HM Government – Global biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse and national security: A National Security Assessment (Published 20 January 2026)
When the UK Government publishes a national security assessment warning that global biodiversity loss and ecosystem collapse threaten our food supply, you would expect honesty, clarity, and a sober assessment of the risks we face.
Instead, the report released on 20 January 2026 offers a strange mixture of stark warnings and comforting illusions – particularly around the UK’s food security.
It acknowledges that ecosystem degradation could destabilise global food production, disrupt supply chains, and trigger geopolitical competition for food. All of that is true.
But then it slips in a familiar, misleading reassurance:
“The UK imports 40% of its food.”
This figure is presented as if it reflects our real‑world vulnerability. It doesn’t.
It’s a net figure, not a resilience figure.
And it hides the truth that the UK is far more dependent on foreign food systems than the report admits.
In fact, if the UK’s borders closed tomorrow, the amount of food immediately available for the population is closer to 11%.
That is the real national security threat – and it has nothing to do with future ecosystem collapse.
It is the result of decades of political choices, corporate control, and a food system designed around globalisation rather than public need.
The 40% Myth: A Convenient Political Fiction
The government’s “40% import dependence” statistic is based on food by value, not food by:
calories
volume
nutritional availability
immediate edibility
or domestic accessibility
It also ignores the dynamic reality of the UK food chain:
1. UK‑produced food is routinely exported
Much of what we grow or rear here is not eaten here.
We export beef, lamb, dairy, fish, cereals, and vegetables – then import substitutes.
2. “British food” often depends on foreign inputs
Even domestic harvests rely on imported:
fertiliser
feed
seed
chemicals
machinery
packaging
labour
A UK-grown crop is not a UK-secure crop.
3. The UK’s food system is globally entangled
Ingredients cross borders multiple times before becoming something we can eat.
A “British” ready meal may contain components from 10–20 countries.
4. The UK cannot feed itself under current systems
Even the report admits:
“The UK cannot currently produce enough food to feed its population based on current diets.”
But it fails to explain why:
Because the UK no longer has a food system designed to feed its own people.
The Real National Security Threat is Already Here
The government frames biodiversity loss as a future risk. But the UK’s food insecurity is a present reality, engineered over decades.
This is the uncomfortable truth:
The UK dismantled its own food resilience long before ecosystems began collapsing.
Traditional farming was replaced by industrial, globalised supply chains.
Local food systems were hollowed out.
Supermarkets and processors gained total control over production.
Farmers became contract‑bound suppliers rather than independent producers.
Policy after policy pushed the UK away from self-sufficiency.
The result?
A nation that produces food – but cannot feed itself.
This is why the 11% figure matters.
It reflects the food that is:
edible immediately
consumed domestically
not dependent on foreign inputs
not locked into export contracts
not reliant on overseas processing
This is the food that would still be available if global supply chains failed.
And it is terrifyingly small.
Biodiversity Collapse Will Hurt Us – But It Will Hit a System Already Broken
The government report is right about one thing:
Ecosystem collapse will make global food production more volatile.
But the UK’s vulnerability is not caused by ecological decline.
It is caused by:
globalisation
supermarket dominance
financialisation of land
industrialised processing
loss of local food infrastructure
policy choices that prioritised profit over people
Ecosystem collapse will simply expose the fragility we have already created.
The Missing Piece: A Food System Built Around People, Not Profit
The report warns that the UK must “increase food system resilience”.
But it offers no meaningful pathway to achieve it.
It talks about:
lab-grown protein
AI
alternative proteins
technological innovation
But it barely mentions the one thing that actually works:
Traditional, regenerative, localised farming.
The kind of farming that:
Builds soil
Restores biodiversity
Strengthens communities
Reduces dependency on imports
Shortens supply chains
Produces real food, not processed substitutes
Keeps value circulating locally
Increases national resilience
This is the farming model that the UK abandoned.
And it is the farming model we must return to.
LEGS: A Framework for the Food Security We Actually Need
The Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS) offers exactly the kind of structural shift the government report refuses to contemplate.
Under LEGS:
Food is treated as a Public Good
Not a commodity.
Not a profit centre.
Not a tool of corporate control.
Local farming is prioritised
Communities produce the food they eat.
Farmers regain independence.
Supply chains shrink.
Resilience grows.
Traditional and regenerative methods become the norm
Because they work.
Because they protect ecosystems.
Because they feed people.
Because they build long-term security.
The economy becomes circular and local
Value stays within communities.
Food sovereignty becomes real.
Dependency on global systems collapses.
People, Community, and The Environment become the organising principles
Not money.
Not shareholder value.
Not global trade flows.
This is the only credible pathway to genuine food security.
The Government Report Is a Warning – But Not the One It Thinks It Is
The report warns that biodiversity loss threatens our food supply.
It’s right.
But the deeper warning is this:
The UK’s food system is already so fragile that any external shock – ecological, geopolitical, or economic – could collapse it.
We do not need to wait for the Amazon to fall or coral reefs to die.
We are already exposed.
The real national security threat is not future ecosystem collapse.
It is the current food system, built on:
Global dependency
Corporate control
Industrial processing
Financialised land
Political complacency
We cannot fix this with technology, trade deals, or emergency stockpiles.
We fix it by rebuilding the one thing that has always fed people:
Local, traditional, community-rooted farming.
And we fix it by adopting a governance and economic model – like LEGS – that puts food, people, and the environment back at the centre of national life.
If the Government Is Serious About Food Security, It Must Change Course Now
The UK cannot continue:
Exporting food we need
Importing food we could grow
Relying on global supply chains
Allowing supermarkets to dictate farming
Treating food as a commodity
Ignoring the collapse of local food systems
If we want real food security, we must:
Rebuild local food production
Restore traditional farming
Shorten supply chains
Treat food as a public good
Prioritise people over profit
Adopt community‑based governance
Embrace the principles of LEGS
Because the truth is simple:
A nation that cannot feed itself is not secure.
A nation that depends on global systems is not resilient.
A nation that abandons its farmers abandons its future.
The government’s report is a wake‑up call.
But the real alarm has been ringing for years.
It’s time we listened.
Further Reading: Navigating the Real Threats to UK Food Security
The blog’s central argument is that the UK’s food system is already dangerously fragile -not just because of future biodiversity loss, but due to decades of policy choices that prioritised global supply chains and corporate control over local resilience.
The following resources are curated to help readers move from understanding the government’s official stance, through critical analysis, to actionable frameworks for rebuilding food security.
1. Official Context: The Government’s Assessment
Nature security assessment on global biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse and national security
https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/nature-security-assessment-on-global-biodiversity-loss-ecosystem-collapse-and-national-security Summary: This is the UK Government’s own national security assessment, published on 20 January 2026. It warns that global biodiversity loss and ecosystem collapse threaten food supply and national security. While it acknowledges risks to food production and supply chains, the report is critiqued in this blog for offering misleading reassurances about UK food resilience and failing to address the deeper, present-day vulnerabilities in the food system.
(Please note that a copy of the Report can be downloaded as a PDF below)
2. Critical Analysis & Solutions: The Author’s Portfolio
Adam’s Food and Farming Portfolio: A Guide to Books, Blogs, and Solutions
https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/12/18/adams-food-and-farming-portfolio-a-guide-to-books-blogs-and-solutions/ Summary: This curated portfolio gathers key writings, books, and practical solutions from the blog’s author. It’s designed for readers who want to go beyond critique and discover actionable ideas for food system reform, regenerative agriculture, and community-based resilience. The portfolio reflects the blog’s ethos: prioritising people, local economies, and ecological health over profit and global dependency.
3. Deep Dive: The LEGS Ecosystem
Visit the LEGS Ecosystem
https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/12/31/visit-the-legs-ecosystem/ Summary: LEGS (Local Economy & Governance System) is the framework proposed in the blog as the structural shift needed for genuine food security. This resource introduces LEGS in detail, showing how it treats food as a public good, rebuilds local farming, and fosters circular economies. It’s essential reading for those interested in systemic change and practical pathways to resilience.
4. In-Depth Reference: LEGS Online Text
The Local Economy Governance System – Online Text
https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/11/21/the-local-economy-governance-system-online-text/ Summary: For readers seeking a comprehensive understanding of the LEGS framework, this online text provides the full theoretical and practical foundation. It expands on the principles outlined in the blog, offering guidance for communities, policymakers, and advocates aiming to rebuild food sovereignty and resilience from the ground up.
Guidance for Readers
Start with the government’s official report to understand the mainstream narrative and its limitations.
Move to the author’s portfolio for critical analysis and practical solutions.
Explore the LEGS resources to discover a transformative framework for food security rooted in local economies and regenerative practices.
This order will help readers progress from context, through critique, to concrete action – mirroring the blog’s call for urgent, systemic change in the UK’s approach to food and farming.
“Locality is the natural scale of human life. Everything else is a managed simulation.”
A Note from Adam
This essay sits within a wider body of work that includes The Local Economy & Governance System, The Basic Living Standard, The Revaluation, The Contribution Culture, Foods We Can Trust – A Blueprint’ and Centralisation Only Rewards Those at the Centre.
All of these pieces are attempts to describe something that should be obvious, but has become strangely difficult to see: that the world we live in today is not built on real life, but on layers of abstraction that have replaced it.
The tragedy – and the reason this work is necessary – is that when people are raised inside an abstract world, the real world begins to look abstract.
Locality looks naïve.
Community looks unrealistic.
Contribution looks idealistic.
Real food looks nostalgic.
Real governance looks impossible.
Real value looks imaginary.
Real life looks like a fantasy.
This inversion is not accidental. It is the predictable outcome of a system that has normalised distance, centralisation, and money as the organising principles of life.
When the abstract becomes normal, the real becomes suspicious.
People reject the very things that would make them healthy, grounded, connected, and free – not because they are wrong, but because they have been conditioned to believe that the real is impractical, inefficient, or outdated.
This rejection is not a rational act. It is a form of self‑harm.
It is the moment when a person turns away from the only scale of life that can sustain them – the local, the human, the grounded – and chooses instead the familiar discomfort of the abstract world.
This essay is written to break that spell.
It is written to help people see the abstract world clearly, perhaps for the first time. It is written to show how the real world has been hidden in plain sight. It is written to reveal why the real feels abstract, and why the abstract feels real. It is written to open the doorway back to a life that makes sense.
If the ideas inside this essay feel unfamiliar, strange, or even unsettling, that is not a sign that they are wrong. It is a sign of how deeply the abstract world has shaped our perception.
The work that follows – including LEGS, the Basic Living Standard, and the wider architecture of a local, human or people-first economy – is not an attempt to invent a new world.
It is an attempt to return to the only world that has ever truly worked.
A world where life is lived at the scale of human beings. A world where value is real. A world where community is lived. A world where food is understood. A world where governance is accountable. A world where health is natural. A world where meaning is visible. A world where people are whole.
This essay is the beginning of that return.
Stepping Out of the Abstract: Why This Essay Exists
We live in a world where almost everything that matters has been lifted out of daily life and placed somewhere distant, managed by people we never meet, shaped by systems we never see, and justified by narratives we never question.
This distance has become so normal that most people no longer recognise it as distance at all.
They mistake abstraction for reality because they have never known anything else.
This is the quiet tragedy of the money‑centric, centralised world:
When you are raised inside the abstract, the real begins to look abstract.
Locality – the natural scale of human life – begins to feel naïve. Community begins to feel unrealistic. Contribution begins to feel idealistic. Real food begins to feel nostalgic. Real governance begins to feel impossible. Real value begins to feel imaginary.
And because the abstract world is all we have been shown, many people reject the real world when they first encounter it – not because it is wrong, but because it feels unfamiliar.
This rejection is not a failure of intelligence.
It is a consequence of conditioning.
It is also a form of self‑harm.
Because the real world – the local, the human, the grounded – is the only place where health, meaning, agency, and freedom can genuinely exist.
This essay is written for the moment when people begin to sense that something is wrong, even if they cannot yet name it.
It is written for the moment when the abstract world stops feeling natural. It is written for the moment when the doorway to the real world becomes visible – even if only faintly.
It draws on the wider body of work – including Centralisation Only Rewards Those at the Centre – to show how the abstract world hides in plain sight, how it shapes our behaviour without our consent, and how it convinces us to reject the very things that would make our lives whole again.
This essay is not an argument.
It is an invitation.
An invitation to see clearly. An invitation to understand deeply. An invitation to step back into the real.
SECTION 1 – Life Inside the Abstract
Most people can feel that something is wrong with the world today, even if they can’t quite name it. There is a sense of disconnection running through everything – work, community, politics, food, even our relationship with ourselves.
Life feels harder than it should be. Nothing seems to add up. And yet, when we look around, the structures that shape our lives appear normal, familiar, even inevitable.
The truth is far more uncomfortable.
We are not living real lives anymore.
We are living in an abstract world – a world built on systems, narratives, and mechanisms that sit outside our direct experience, yet govern almost every part of it.
We have been conditioned to treat these abstractions as reality, even when they bear no resemblance to the lives we actually live.
We mistake the abstract for the real because we have forgotten what real life feels like.
Real life is local.
Real life is human.
Real life is experienced directly – through people, places, relationships, and the natural world.
But the world we inhabit today is mediated through layers of distance, bureaucracy, digital interfaces, centralised systems, and economic structures that most of us never see.
We live inside a world of processes we do not control, rules we did not write, and decisions made by people we will never meet.
We have been taught to believe that this is normal.
It isn’t.
It is simply the result of a system that has replaced lived experience with abstraction – and then convinced us that the abstraction is real.
This is why so many people feel exhausted, anxious, or powerless. It is why work feels meaningless. It is why communities feel hollow. It is why food feels fragile. It is why politics feels distant. It is why life feels precarious.
We are trying to live real lives inside an abstract world.
And the abstract world is collapsing.
To understand why – and to understand the alternative – we must first see the architecture of the abstract world clearly. Because once you see it, you cannot unsee it. And once you understand how abstraction has replaced reality, you begin to understand why the only real solution is to return life to the scale where humans actually exist.
That scale is the local.
And the system that makes that return possible is the Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS).
But before we can reach that point, we must first understand how the abstract world was built – and why it has taken us so far away from the lives we were meant to live.
SECTION 2 – How Abstraction Shapes Daily Life
One of the most important things we have to recognise – and perhaps the hardest – is just how much of the world we take for granted without ever questioning how it really works.
We assume that because something is familiar, it must also be real. We assume that because something is normal, it must also be natural. And we assume that because something has always been presented to us in a certain way, that way must be the truth.
But much of what we now treat as “real life” is nothing of the sort.
We are living in an abstract world – a world built on ideas, systems, and processes that sit far outside our direct experience, yet shape almost everything we do. And because these abstractions have been with us for so long, we rarely notice them. They hide in plain sight, precisely because we have stopped looking for anything else.
But the question itself reveals something much deeper.
Because we already have compulsory subjects in schools.
And yet almost none of them connect children to real life.
They are taught in the abstract.
They are delivered through textbooks, screens, worksheets, and exam specifications – not through lived experience. Children learn about the world through representations of the world, not through the world itself. They learn about life without ever touching life.
So when we say “make food education compulsory,” we are really saying “add food to the list of things we teach abstractly.”
We don’t even notice the contradiction.
We don’t notice that the very structure of schooling has become abstract – detached from the realities of life, detached from the skills that sustain us, detached from the communities we live in. We don’t notice that the way we teach children about the world is itself part of the problem.
We don’t notice because abstraction has become normal.
We have been conditioned to believe that learning happens in classrooms, not in fields, kitchens, workshops, or communities.
We have been conditioned to believe that knowledge comes from institutions, not from experience.
We have been conditioned to believe that the abstract version of life is the real one – and that the real one is somehow outdated, inefficient, or unnecessary.
This is how deeply the abstract world has embedded itself.
We no longer see the distance between the representation and the reality. We no longer see the gap between what we are taught and what we need. We no longer see that the systems we rely on are not built around life at all.
Food education is just one example – but it is the example that exposes the whole pattern.
Because food is not abstract.
Food is life. Food is local. Food is real.
And yet most people now understand food only through the abstract lens of supermarkets, supply chains, packaging, and price labels.
They understand food as something they buy, not something they grow, prepare, preserve, or share.
They understand food as a product, not a relationship.
So when we talk about teaching food in schools, we are really talking about teaching the abstract version of food – the version that fits neatly into a curriculum, not the version that sustains life.
This is the heart of the problem.
We are trying to fix the consequences of abstraction by adding more abstraction.
We are trying to reconnect people to real life through systems that are themselves disconnected from real life.
We are trying to solve a problem we have not yet recognised.
Because the problem is not that children don’t understand food.
The problem is that children – and adults – no longer live in a world where real life is visible.
We live in the abstract. We think in the abstract. We learn in the abstract. We work in the abstract. We eat in the abstract. We govern in the abstract.
And because abstraction has become normal, we no longer see what it has taken from us.
But once you begin to see it – once you notice how much of life has been lifted out of reality and placed into distant systems – you begin to understand why so much feels wrong, disconnected, or hollow.
You begin to understand why the sums no longer add up.
You begin to understand why people feel lost.
You begin to understand why communities feel empty.
You begin to understand why the world feels fragile.
And you begin to understand why the only real solution is to return life to the scale where it actually exists.
The local.
The human.
The real.
SECTION 3 – Food: The Evidence for Local Reality
If there is one place where the difference between real life and the abstract world becomes impossible to ignore, it is food. Food exposes the truth that sits beneath everything else:
Local is real. Local is healthy. Local is human.
Abstract is false. Abstract is unhealthy. Abstract is dehumanising.
Food shows us this more clearly than anything else because food cannot be understood in the abstract. You cannot learn food from a worksheet. You cannot respect food from a PowerPoint. You cannot understand food from a supermarket shelf.
Food is something you learn by living with it.
For most of human history, food was part of daily life. Children didn’t need lessons about food – they absorbed it simply by being present.
They saw seeds planted, animals cared for, bread made, meals prepared, leftovers preserved, and seasons change.
They learned respect for food because they saw the work, the patience, the skill, and the care that food requires.
Food was not a subject. Food was a relationship. Food was real.
And because food was real, it made life real.
It grounded people physically, mentally, emotionally, and socially. It connected them to nature, to community, and to themselves.
This is what locality does.
Locality makes life real.
Locality makes life healthy.
But today, food has been lifted out of daily life and placed into the abstract.
Most people no longer grow food. Most people no longer prepare food from scratch. Most people no longer understand where food comes from or what it takes to produce it.
Instead, food arrives through a system that is distant, centralised, and invisible. We experience food through packaging, branding, supply chains, and price labels. We “know” food only as something we buy – not something we understand.
And because food has become abstract, our relationship with life has become abstract.
We no longer see the soil. We no longer see the seasons. We no longer see the labour. We no longer see the community. We no longer see the meaning.
We see only the abstraction – and we mistake it for reality.
This is why the suggestion that food production should be compulsory in schools misses the point so completely. It assumes that the problem is lack of information. It assumes that the solution is more teaching. It assumes that adding food to the curriculum will reconnect children to real life.
But compulsory subjects are already taught in the abstract.
They are delivered through screens, worksheets, and exam specifications – not through lived experience. They are disconnected from the world they claim to describe. They teach children about life without ever letting them touch life.
So when we say “teach food in schools,” we are really saying “teach the abstract version of food.”
We don’t even notice the contradiction because abstraction has become normal.
But food refuses to be abstract.
Food exposes the lie.
Food reveals the truth.
Because food can only be understood locally.
Food can only be respected locally.
Food can only be lived locally.
And when food is local, life becomes local.
When food is real, life becomes real.
When food is part of daily life, people become grounded, connected, and healthy – physically and mentally.
This is the deeper truth hiding in plain sight:
Anything that is real must be lived locally.
Anything that is abstract becomes unhealthy – for people, for communities, and for the world.
Food shows us this with absolute clarity.
When food is local, people are independent.
When food is local, communities are resilient.
When food is local, life makes sense.
But when food becomes abstract, people become dependent.
Communities become hollow. Skills disappear. Respect disappears. Meaning disappears. Health – physical and mental – declines.
Food is the proof that abstraction is not just a philosophical idea.
It is a lived experience with real consequences.
And it is also the proof that the way back to a healthy, grounded, human life is through locality.
Because food cannot be centralised without becoming abstract. And life cannot be centralised without becoming abstract.
Food shows us the truth we have forgotten:
Local is real. Local is healthy.
Abstract is false. Abstract is unhealthy.
And once you see this in food, you begin to see it everywhere.
SECTION 4 – When Abstraction Disrupts Meaning
Once you begin to see how food reveals the difference between the real and the abstract, something else becomes clear: the reason so much of life feels confusing, unstable, or unhealthy today is because we are trying to live real lives inside systems that are not real.
When life is local, it is grounded.
When life is local, it is human.
When life is local, it makes sense.
But when life becomes abstract, it becomes distorted. It becomes stressful. It becomes unhealthy – physically, mentally, emotionally, socially.
And because abstraction has become normal, we rarely connect the dots.
We feel the symptoms, but we don’t see the cause.
We feel overwhelmed, but we don’t see the distance that created it. We feel powerless, but we don’t see the systems that removed our agency. We feel disconnected, but we don’t see how far we’ve been pulled from real life. We feel anxious, but we don’t see that the world we live in is built on instability. We feel lost, but we don’t see that the map we were given was abstract all along.
Food shows us this clearly.
When food was part of daily life, people understood the world around them. They understood seasons, weather, soil, animals, and the rhythms of nature. They understood effort, patience, and consequence. They understood community, because food required community.
This understanding created stability – not just physical stability, but mental and emotional stability too.
Locality grounds people.
Locality gives life shape.
Locality gives life meaning.
But when food becomes abstract, that grounding disappears.
People no longer understand the rhythms of life. They no longer see the connection between effort and outcome. They no longer experience the satisfaction of contribution. They no longer feel part of anything bigger than themselves. They no longer feel capable of providing for themselves.
This creates a deep, quiet anxiety – the kind that sits beneath everything else.
Because when the most essential part of life becomes abstract, everything else becomes abstract too.
Work becomes abstract – disconnected from purpose. Community becomes abstract – disconnected from place. Governance becomes abstract – disconnected from people. Value becomes abstract – disconnected from meaning. Identity becomes abstract – disconnected from reality.
And when everything becomes abstract, life stops making sense.
People feel like they are constantly running but never arriving. They feel like they are constantly working but never secure. They feel like they are constantly consuming but never satisfied. They feel like they are constantly connected but never seen. They feel like they are constantly informed but never understanding.
This is not a personal failing. It is the predictable outcome of living in a world that has replaced reality with abstraction.
A world where:
food is a product, not a relationship
work is a transaction, not a contribution
community is a slogan, not a lived experience
governance is a bureaucracy, not a responsibility
value is a price tag, not a truth
identity is a profile, not a person
A world where the things that should be local – food, work, community, governance, meaning – have been centralised, standardised, and abstracted.
A world where the things that should be lived have been turned into things that are managed.
A world where the things that should be experienced have been turned into things that are consumed.
A world where the things that should be human have been turned into things that are economic.
And because this world is abstract, it is unhealthy.
It is unhealthy for bodies. It is unhealthy for minds. It is unhealthy for communities. It is unhealthy for the environment. It is unhealthy for democracy. It is unhealthy for life.
Locality is not a lifestyle choice.
Locality is the natural scale of human existence.
When life is local, it becomes real again. When life is local, it becomes healthy again. When life is local, it becomes meaningful again.
Food shows us this. Food proves this. Food is the doorway into this understanding.
And once you see how food reveals the truth about locality and abstraction, you begin to see the deeper structure behind it – the mechanism that created the abstract world and keeps it in place.
That mechanism is centralisation.
And centralisation only ever rewards those at the centre.
SECTION 5 – How Centralisation Sustains Abstraction
Once you see how abstraction pulls life away from the local, the next questions become unavoidable:
Why has so much of life been lifted out of the local in the first place?
Who benefits from life becoming abstract?
And why does the system keep moving further away from the real?
The answer is centralisation.
Centralisation is not an accident. It is not a side‑effect. It is not an unfortunate by‑product of “modern life.”
Centralisation is the mechanism that makes the abstract world possible.
It is the structure that takes power, ownership, and decision‑making away from the local – away from the people who live with the consequences – and moves it upward, into the hands of those who benefit from distance.
And once you understand centralisation, you understand why the world feels the way it does.
Centralisation grows because abstraction feeds it
The money‑centric system we live in today is built on a simple equation:
Money → Wealth → Power → Control → Centralisation
Everyone understands the first step.
Even people with very little money know that money gives them more control over their own lives.
But as you move up the hierarchy, 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.
Because the more centralised a system becomes, the easier it is for those at the centre to extract value from everyone else.
Centralisation rewards the centre.
Abstraction hides the extraction.
Locality is the only thing that resists it.
This is why the system keeps pulling life away from the local.
Locality is real. Locality is human. Locality is healthy. Locality is accountable.
And centralisation cannot survive in a world where people live real, local lives.
Centralisation always removes the local – and replaces it with the abstract
You can see this pattern everywhere once you know what to look for.
Food used to be local. Now it is controlled by global supply chains, supermarket monopolies, and distant corporations.
Work used to be local. Now it is shaped by national policy, global markets, and corporate structures that have no relationship to the communities they affect.
Governance used to be local. Now decisions are made by people who will never meet those they govern.
Education used to be rooted in community life. Now it is delivered through standardised curricula designed far away from the children they are meant to serve.
Health used to be grounded in local knowledge, local relationships, and local responsibility. Now it is managed through centralised systems that treat people as data points.
In every case, the pattern is the same:
Centralisation removes life from the local and replaces it with the abstract.
And because abstraction is unhealthy – physically, mentally, socially, environmentally – centralisation always harms the people furthest from the centre.
Centralisation creates distance – and distance removes empathy
When decisions are made locally, they are made by people who see the consequences.
When decisions are made centrally, they are made by people who never do.
This is why centralised systems feel cold, bureaucratic, and indifferent.
It is not because the people inside them are bad.
It is because the structure itself removes the human connection that makes good decisions possible.
A policymaker in Westminster does not see the farmer whose livelihood is destroyed by a regulation. A supermarket executive does not see the community that loses its last local shop. A global corporation does not see the soil degraded by its supply chain. A distant official does not see the child who never learns where food comes from.
Centralisation makes harm invisible – and therefore easy.
Centralisation is the opposite of locality – and the opposite of health
Locality is real. Locality is grounding. Locality is healthy.
Centralisation is abstract. Centralisation is distancing. Centralisation is unhealthy.
Locality connects people to life. Centralisation disconnects people from life.
Food shows us this more clearly than anything else.
When food is local, people are healthy – physically and mentally.
When food is abstract, people become dependent, disconnected, and unwell.
This is not a coincidence. It is the structure of the system.
Centralisation only rewards those at the centre
This is the truth that sits beneath everything:
Centralisation always rewards the centre and always harms the local.
It cannot do anything else.
Because centralisation is built on extraction – the extraction of wealth, power, autonomy, and meaning from the many to benefit the few.
And the only way to maintain that extraction is to keep life abstract.
Because abstraction hides the mechanism. Abstraction hides the harm. Abstraction hides the loss of agency. Abstraction hides the loss of independence. Abstraction hides the loss of community. Abstraction hides the loss of health.
Once you see this, you understand why nothing will change until we stop living in the abstract and return life to the local.
And that is where the doorway opens.
Because if centralisation is the engine of the abstract world, then locality is the engine of the real one.
And LEGS is the structure that makes that return possible.
SECTION 6 – Locality: Where Life Becomes Real
Once you understand how abstraction pulls life away from the real, and how centralisation keeps everything abstract, the next truth becomes impossible to ignore:
Real life only exists at the local scale.
Everything else is a managed simulation.
This isn’t ideology. It isn’t nostalgia. It isn’t a romantic longing for the past.
It is simply how human beings work.
Locality is the natural scale of human life because it is the only scale where life can be experienced directly – through our senses, our relationships, our responsibilities, and our contributions.
Locality is where we see the consequences of our actions.
Locality is where we understand the world around us.
Locality is where we feel connected to something bigger than ourselves.
Locality is where we experience meaning.
Locality is where we experience health – physical, mental, emotional, social.
Locality is real. Locality is grounding. Locality is human. Locality is healthy.
And food shows us this more clearly than anything else.
Food proves that locality is the natural scale of life
When food is local, it is part of daily life.
You see it. You touch it. You smell it. You prepare it. You share it. You understand it.
Food becomes a relationship – not a product.
And because food is real, life becomes real.
People who live close to their food systems are more grounded, more resilient, more connected, and more mentally healthy.
They understand the rhythms of nature. They understand the value of effort. They understand the meaning of contribution. They understand the importance of community.
Local food systems create local understanding. Local understanding creates local agency. Local agency creates local resilience. Local resilience creates local freedom.
This is why every healthy society in history has been rooted in locality.
Not because people were primitive. Not because they lacked technology. But because locality is the only scale where life can be lived fully.
Abstraction destroys the grounding that locality provides
When food becomes abstract, life becomes abstract.
People no longer understand the world around them. They no longer feel connected to anything real. They no longer feel capable of providing for themselves. They no longer feel part of a community. They no longer feel grounded in place. They no longer feel secure.
This is why anxiety rises. This is why depression rises. This is why loneliness rises. This is why communities fracture. This is why people feel lost.
It is not because people have changed. It is because the scale of life has changed.
We are trying to live human lives inside systems that are not human.
Locality restores what abstraction removes
When life returns to the local, everything changes.
People begin to feel connected again. They begin to feel capable again. They begin to feel responsible again. They begin to feel valued again. They begin to feel grounded again. They begin to feel healthy again.
Locality restores:
meaning
agency
contribution
community
resilience
identity
belonging
stability
health
Locality is not small. Locality is not limiting. Locality is not backward.
Locality is the scale at which human beings thrive.
And this is the doorway into the next part of the argument:
If locality is the natural scale of life, then we need a system that is built around locality – not around centralisation, abstraction, or money.
We need a system that:
restores real life
restores real value
restores real contribution
restores real community
restores real governance
restores real independence
restores real health
This is where LEGS enters the picture.
LEGS is not an idea. LEGS is not a theory. LEGS is not an ideology.
LEGS is the practical structure that makes locality work – economically, socially, and politically.
And the first step in that structure is the Basic Living Standard.
SECTION 7 – The Basic Living Standard: Security for Real Life
If locality is the natural scale of human life, then the next questions are simple:
What stops people from living locally today?
What prevents people from reconnecting with real life?
What keeps them trapped in the abstract world?
The answer is fear.
Not dramatic fear. Not panic. Not terror.
A quieter fear – the fear of falling.
The fear of not being able to pay the rent. The fear of not being able to heat the home. The fear of not being able to feed the family. The fear of losing work. The fear of losing stability. The fear of losing everything.
This fear is the glue that holds the abstract world together.
It is the mechanism that keeps people compliant, exhausted, distracted, and dependent. It is the reason people stay in jobs that drain them. It is the reason people accept systems that harm them. It is the reason people tolerate centralisation, even when it destroys their communities. It is the reason people cannot step back into real life, even when they can see the doorway.
Fear is the invisible chain that binds people to the abstract world.
And that is why the Basic Living Standard exists.
The Basic Living Standard removes the fear that keeps people trapped in the abstract
The Basic Living Standard (BLS) is not a benefit. It is not welfare. It is not charity. It is not a safety net.
It is the foundation of a healthy society – the point at which survival is no longer tied to employment, and life is no longer held hostage by money.
The BLS guarantees that every person who works a full week at the lowest legal wage can meet all of their essential needs:
food
housing
heat
water
clothing
healthcare
transport
communication
basic participation in community life
This is not generosity. This is not ideology. This is not utopian.
This is the minimum requirement for a real life.
Because without security, people cannot live locally. Without security, people cannot contribute freely. Without security, people cannot think clearly. Without security, people cannot be healthy – physically or mentally. Without security, people cannot resist centralisation. Without security, people cannot step out of the abstract world.
The BLS removes the fear that centralisation depends on.
It breaks the coercive link between survival and employment. It breaks the psychological link between money and worth. It breaks the structural link between centralisation and control.
It gives people the ground beneath their feet.
The BLS makes locality possible again
Locality is not just a preference. It is a way of living that requires stability.
You cannot grow food if you are terrified of losing your home. You cannot contribute to your community if you are working three jobs to survive. You cannot learn real skills if you are constantly firefighting your finances. You cannot participate in local governance if you are exhausted by insecurity. You cannot build a real life if you are trapped in the abstract one.
The BLS creates the conditions in which locality can flourish.
It gives people the freedom to:
choose meaningful work
contribute to their community
learn real skills
participate in local governance
grow food
support neighbours
build resilience
live with dignity
The BLS is not the end of the journey. It is the beginning.
It is the point at which people can finally lift their heads from the grind of survival and see the world around them – the real world, not the abstract one.
The BLS restores the meaning of contribution
In the abstract world, work is a transaction.
In the real world, work is a contribution.
The BLS makes this shift possible.
When survival is guaranteed, people no longer work out of fear. They work out of purpose. They work out of interest. They work out of ability. They work out of connection. They work out of contribution.
This is the foundation of a healthy local economy.
Not competition. Not scarcity. Not extraction. Not centralisation.
Contribution.
And contribution only becomes possible when people are no longer trapped in the abstract world by fear.
The BLS is the first structural step back into real life
Locality is the natural scale of human life. But locality cannot function without security.
The BLS provides that security.
It is the point at which:
fear dissolves
agency returns
contribution becomes possible
community becomes real
locality becomes viable
centralisation loses its grip
abstraction loses its power
The BLS is the foundation of LEGS because it is the foundation of real life.
It is the moment where the abstract world begins to fall away, and the real world begins to reappear.
And once the foundation is in place, the next step becomes clear:
Food is the clearest example of how life has been lifted out of the real and placed into the abstract. But it is only the doorway. Once you step through it, you begin to see the same pattern everywhere.
Because the truth is this:
We are not just eating in the abstract.
We are living in the abstract.
Food simply makes the invisible visible.
When you realise that your relationship with food has become abstract, you begin to notice that your relationship with almost everything else has too.
Work has become abstract
Work used to be something people did for each other – a contribution to the life of the community. You could see the value of your work. You could see who it helped. You could see the difference it made.
Today, work is defined by:
job titles
performance metrics
compliance systems
productivity dashboards
wages
contracts
HR policies
Work has become a transaction, not a contribution.
You don’t see who benefits. You don’t see the outcome. You don’t see the meaning. You only see the abstraction.
And because work is abstract, it is unhealthy – mentally, emotionally, socially.
Value has become abstract
Value used to be rooted in usefulness, skill, care, and contribution.
Today, value is defined by price – a number that often has no relationship to the real worth of anything.
A handmade loaf of bread is “worth” less than a factory loaf.
A neighbour who cares for an elderly parent is “worth” nothing in economic terms.
A farmer who grows real food is “worth” less than a corporation that processes it.
Price has replaced meaning. Money has replaced value. Abstraction has replaced reality.
Governance has become abstract
Governance used to be local, human, and accountable.
Decisions were made by people who lived among those affected by them.
Today, governance is:
distant
bureaucratic
centralised
opaque
unaccountable
Policies are written by people who will never meet the communities they shape.
Rules are imposed by people who will never experience their consequences.
Governance has become abstract – and therefore unhealthy.
Community has become abstract
Community used to be lived.
It used to be physical. It used to be relational. It used to be local.
Today, “community” is:
a slogan
a marketing term
a digital group
a brand identity
a political talking point
People live near each other, but not with each other.
They share space, but not life.
They share information, but not responsibility.
Community has become abstract – and therefore fragile.
Identity has become abstract
Identity used to be shaped by:
relationships
contribution
place
experience
responsibility
community
Today, identity is shaped by:
job titles
income brackets
digital profiles
algorithms
branding
labels
Identity has become abstract – and therefore unstable.
Food is not the whole story – it is the proof
Food is the example that exposes the pattern.
Because food cannot be abstract without consequences.
Food cannot be centralised without harm.
Food cannot be disconnected from daily life without disconnecting people from life itself.
And once you see this in food, you begin to see it everywhere.
You begin to see that the abstract world is not natural. You begin to see that the abstract world is not inevitable. You begin to see that the abstract world is not healthy. You begin to see that the abstract world is not sustainable. You begin to see that the abstract world is not human.
And you begin to see why life feels the way it does.
Food is the doorway. But the destination is understanding the entire structure of the abstract world – and why we must leave it behind.
And that brings us to the next step:
If abstraction is the problem, and locality is the solution, then we need a system built entirely around locality.
That system is LEGS.
SECTION 9 – LEGS: Rebuilding Real Life
By now, the pattern is clear:
The abstract world is unhealthy.
Centralisation keeps life abstract.
Locality is the natural scale of human life.
The Basic Living Standard removes the fear that keeps people trapped in the abstract.
But recognising the problem is only half the journey.
The next step is understanding the structure that replaces it.
Because locality is not just a feeling. It is not just a preference. It is not just a philosophy.
Locality requires a system – a practical, grounded, human system – that allows people to live real lives again.
That system is the Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS).
LEGS is not an ideology.
LEGS is not a political programme.
LEGS is not a utopian dream.
LEGS is a design – a structure built around the natural scale of human life.
It is the opposite of the abstract world. It is the opposite of centralisation. It is the opposite of the money‑centric system.
LEGS is what life looks like when it returns to the local.
LEGS begins with a simple truth: people are the value of the economy
In the abstract world, value is defined by money.
In the real world, value is defined by people.
LEGS restores this truth.
It recognises that:
people create value
people sustain communities
people maintain the environment
people are the economy
Money is not the centre.
People are.
This single shift changes everything.
Because when people are the value, the economy must be built around people – not the other way around.
LEGS restores the natural relationship between people, work, and community
In the abstract world, work is a transaction.
In the real world, work is a contribution.
LEGS makes this shift possible by:
removing fear through the Basic Living Standard
grounding work in the needs of the community
recognising contribution in all its forms
ensuring that work is visible, meaningful, and connected to real life
Work becomes something you do with your community, not something you do for a distant system.
This is how work becomes healthy again – mentally, physically, socially.
LEGS restores locality to the centre of economic life
The abstract world depends on distance.
LEGS depends on proximity.
It brings:
production
exchange
governance
responsibility
contribution
decision‑making
back to the scale where life is actually lived.
This is not small. This is not limiting. This is not backward.
This is the scale at which human beings thrive.
LEGS makes food local again – because food is the anchor of real life
Food is not the whole story, but it is the centre of the story.
Because food is the one part of life that cannot be abstract without consequences.
LEGS restores:
local food production
local food processing
local food exchange
local food skills
local food resilience
Food becomes part of daily life again – not a distant system controlled by people you will never meet.
And when food becomes local, life becomes local.
LEGS restores governance to the people who live with the consequences
In the abstract world, governance is distant and unaccountable.
In the real world, governance is local and human.
LEGS replaces:
hierarchy with participation
bureaucracy with responsibility
distance with proximity
abstraction with lived experience
Decisions are made by the people who live with the outcomes – not by distant institutions.
This is what real democracy looks like.
This is what real accountability looks like.
This is what real community looks like.
LEGS is not a theory – it is a practical system built on natural principles
LEGS works because it is built on the same principles that have sustained human life for thousands of years:
locality
contribution
reciprocity
transparency
shared responsibility
community
stewardship
human scale
These are not political ideas.
These are human truths.
LEGS simply gives them structure.
LEGS is the system that replaces the abstract world
The abstract world is collapsing – socially, economically, environmentally, psychologically.
LEGS is not a reaction to that collapse.
LEGS is the alternative that makes sense once you understand why the collapse is happening.
Because LEGS is:
local where the abstract world is centralised
real where the abstract world is false
human where the abstract world is mechanical
healthy where the abstract world is harmful
grounded where the abstract world is unstable
meaningful where the abstract world is empty
LEGS is not the future because it is new.
LEGS is the future because it is natural.
It is the structure that allows people to live real lives again – lives that are grounded, connected, meaningful, and healthy.
And once you see the abstract world clearly, LEGS stops looking radical.
It starts looking obvious.
SECTION 10 – The Revaluation: Seeing the Real World Anew
There is a moment – sometimes sudden, sometimes gradual – when the abstract world stops feeling normal.
A moment when the distance, the confusion, the instability, the disconnection, the exhaustion, the sense that life is happening somewhere else finally becomes visible.
A moment when you realise that the world you have been living in is not the real world at all – it is a constructed world, an abstract world, a world built on distance, centralisation, and money.
That moment is the beginning of The Revaluation.
The Revaluation is not a policy.
It is not a programme.
It is not a political movement.
The Revaluation is a shift in perception – a change in how you see value, meaning, contribution, community, and life itself.
It is the moment when you stop accepting the abstract world as inevitable, and begin to see it for what it is: a system built on distance, dependency, and fear.
And it is the moment when you begin to see locality – real life – again.
The Revaluation begins when you see the abstract world clearly
For most people, the abstract world is invisible because it is normal.
We grow up inside it. We are educated inside it. We work inside it. We consume inside it. We are governed inside it.
We mistake the abstract for the real because we have never known anything else.
But once you see the pattern – once you see how food has become abstract, how work has become abstract, how value has become abstract, how governance has become abstract – you cannot unsee it.
You begin to notice the distance everywhere.
You begin to notice the disconnection everywhere.
You begin to notice the centralisation everywhere.
You begin to notice the harm everywhere.
This is the first stage of The Revaluation: seeing clearly.
The Revaluation deepens when you understand what locality really means
Locality is not small. Locality is not nostalgic. Locality is not backward.
Locality is the natural scale of human life.
It is the scale at which:
meaning is created
relationships are formed
contribution is visible
responsibility is shared
governance is human
food is real
work is purposeful
value is grounded
identity is stable
health is supported
Locality is not a political idea.
Locality is a human truth.
And once you see locality clearly, you begin to understand what has been taken from you – and what can be restored.
This is the second stage of The Revaluation: understanding deeply.
The Revaluation becomes real when you recognise your own place in it
The abstract world teaches people to feel powerless.
It teaches people to believe that change is something done by others.
It teaches people to believe that systems are fixed, permanent, immovable.
But once you see the abstract world clearly, and once you understand locality deeply, something else happens:
You begin to feel your own agency again.
You begin to feel your own value again.
You begin to feel your own contribution again.
You begin to feel your own connection again.
You begin to feel your own responsibility again.
You begin to feel your own humanity again.
This is the third stage of The Revaluation: reclaiming yourself.
The Revaluation is the bridge between the abstract world and the real one
The Revaluation is not the end of the journey. It is the beginning.
It is the moment when:
the abstract world becomes visible
the real world becomes imaginable
locality becomes desirable
centralisation becomes unacceptable
fear becomes unnecessary
contribution becomes meaningful
community becomes possible
LEGS becomes obvious
The Revaluation is the shift in consciousness that makes the return to real life possible.
It is the moment when the reader – without being told – begins to feel:
“I want to live in the real world again.”
And that is the doorway into the final section.
Because once you see the abstract world clearly, and once you understand locality deeply, and once you recognise your own agency, the next questions become simple:
What does a real life actually look like?
And how do we build it?
That is where we go next.
SECTION 11 – What Local Life Truly Means
By now, the shape of the truth is visible.
You can see the abstract world for what it is: a system built on distance, centralisation, and money – a system that disconnects people from the real, from each other, and from themselves.
You can see how food exposes the pattern – not because food is the whole story, but because food refuses to be abstract without consequences.
You can see how centralisation maintains the abstract world by removing life from the local and placing it in the hands of people who never experience the outcomes of their decisions.
You can see how locality is the natural scale of human life – the scale at which meaning, health, contribution, and community become possible again.
You can see how the Basic Living Standard removes the fear that keeps people trapped in the abstract world.
You can see how LEGS provides the structure that allows real life to function again – economically, socially, and politically.
And you can see how The Revaluation is not a policy or a programme, but a shift in consciousness – the moment when the real world becomes visible again.
So what does a real, local, human life actually look like?
It looks like this:
A life where food is part of daily experience, not a distant system
You know where your food comes from. You know who grew it. You know how it was made. You know what it means.
Food becomes grounding again – physically, mentally, emotionally, socially.
Food becomes a relationship, not a product.
Food becomes the anchor of real life.
A life where work is contribution, not coercion
You work because you want to contribute, not because you fear falling.
You see the impact of what you do. You see who benefits. You see the meaning.
Work becomes human again.
Work becomes visible again.
Work becomes part of community life again.
A life where value is real, not abstract
Value is no longer defined by price.
Value is defined by usefulness, contribution, care, skill, and meaning.
A neighbour who helps an elder is valued. A farmer who grows real food is valued. A craftsperson who repairs what others throw away is valued. A parent who raises children is valued.
Value becomes grounded again.
A life where governance is local, human, and accountable
Decisions are made by people who live with the consequences.
Governance is not distant. Governance is not abstract. Governance is not bureaucratic.
It is participatory. It is transparent. It is relational. It is human.
This is what real democracy looks like.
A life where community is lived, not imagined
Community is not a slogan.
It is not a digital group. It is not a marketing term.
Community is the people you see, speak to, help, support, and rely on.
It is the people who share responsibility with you. It is the people who share the place with you. It is the people who share life with you.
Community becomes real again.
A life where identity is grounded, not constructed
Identity is no longer defined by job titles, income brackets, or digital profiles.
Identity is shaped by:
contribution
relationships
place
responsibility
experience
community
Identity becomes stable again.
A life where health is supported by the structure of daily living
Locality reduces stress.
Contribution reduces anxiety.
Community reduces loneliness.
Real food improves physical health.
Real relationships improve mental health.
Real responsibility improves emotional health.
Health becomes a natural outcome of real life – not a service purchased in the abstract world.
A life where the environment is cared for because people live close to it
When life is local, the environment is not an idea.
It is the place you live. It is the soil you depend on. It is the water you drink. It is the air you breathe.
Money does not dominate. Money does not accumulate. Money does not control.
Money becomes what it always should have been: a tool for exchange, nothing more.
A life where fear no longer dictates behaviour
The Basic Living Standard removes the fear of falling.
And when fear disappears, something else appears:
agency
dignity
contribution
creativity
responsibility
connection
meaning
Fear is the foundation of the abstract world.
Security is the foundation of the real one.
A life where the abstract world finally loses its power
Once you see the abstract world clearly, it stops feeling inevitable.
Once you understand locality deeply, it stops feeling small.
Once you recognise your own agency, you stop feeling powerless.
Once you see LEGS, you stop feeling trapped.
And once you experience even a glimpse of real life – grounded, local, human – the abstract world begins to feel as strange as it truly is.
This is a doorway
This essay is not the whole journey. It is a doorway.
It is the moment where the abstract world becomes visible, and the real world becomes imaginable.
It is the moment where you begin to see that the life you have been living is not the only life available.
It is the moment where you begin to understand that locality is not a step backward – it is the only step forward that makes sense.
It is the moment where LEGS stops looking radical and starts looking obvious.
It is the moment where The Revaluation begins.
And once you step through this doorway, the rest of the work – the deeper structures, the practical mechanisms, the full system – are waiting for you.
Not as theory. Not as ideology. Not as abstraction.
But as the architecture of a real, local, human life.
Closing Reflection
When the Real World Stops Looking Abstract
If you have reached this point, something important has already happened.
You have seen the abstract world clearly enough to recognise its shape.
You have seen how distance, centralisation, and money have replaced the real with the artificial.
You have seen how food reveals the pattern.
You have seen how locality restores what abstraction removes.
You have seen how the Basic Living Standard and LEGS make real life possible again.
But more importantly, you have felt something shift.
The real world – the local, the human, the grounded – no longer looks abstract.
It no longer looks naïve. It no longer looks unrealistic.
It looks obvious.
This is the beginning of The Revaluation – the moment when the real becomes visible again, and the abstract begins to lose its power.
It is the moment when you realise that rejecting the real was never a rational choice – it was a conditioned response.
It is the moment when you recognise that the systems we inherited were never designed for human wellbeing.
It is the moment when you understand that stepping back into the real is not a risk – it is a return.
A return to meaning. A return to agency. A return to contribution. A return to community. A return to health. A return to life.
This essay is not the end of the journey.
It is the threshold.
Beyond this point lies the deeper work – the full architecture of The Local Economy & Governance System, the Basic Living Standard, the Local Market Exchange, the redefinition of work, the restoration of value, the rebuilding of governance, and the practical steps that make a real, local, human life possible again.
If the abstract world once felt like the only world available, and the real world once felt like an abstraction, that illusion has now begun to dissolve.
You are standing at the doorway.
The rest of the journey is yours to choose.
Further Reading: Stepping Beyond Abstraction
The essay “Out of the Abstract” invites readers to step through a doorway – leaving behind a world shaped by distance, centralisation, and abstraction, and returning to a life grounded in locality, contribution, and real value.
The following readings are curated to guide you further along this path, each expanding on the foundational concepts and practical steps introduced in the essay.
Whether you seek philosophical context, practical frameworks, or blueprints for change, these resources offer a coherent continuation of the journey.
1. Foundations of a People-First Society
The Philosophy of a People-First Society https://adamtugwell.blog/2026/01/02/the-philosophy-of-a-people-first-society/ Summary: This piece lays the philosophical groundwork for a society that prioritises human wellbeing over abstract systems. It explores the values, principles, and mindset shifts necessary to move from centralised, money-centric structures to local, people-first communities. The essay provides context for why locality is not just preferable, but essential for meaningful, healthy lives.
2. The Architecture of Locality: LEGS and Its Ecosystem
The Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS) – Online Text https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/11/21/the-local-economy-governance-system-online-text/ Summary: This comprehensive resource details the LEGS framework, the practical system designed to restore locality as the natural scale of human life. It explains how LEGS re-centres value, work, and governance around people and communities, providing the structure for economic and social resilience.
Visit the LEGS Ecosystem https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/12/31/visit-the-legs-ecosystem/ Summary: This link offers a guided exploration of the LEGS ecosystem, showcasing real-world applications, solutions, and the impact of locality-driven systems. It’s an invitation to see how theory can become practice, and how communities can thrive when grounded in local principles.
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/ Summary: This essay explores the shift from transactional work to meaningful contribution, showing how LEGS enables a culture where work is valued for its impact on community and wellbeing. It discusses the transformation of business and governance when contribution, not extraction, becomes the central principle.
4. Food, Security, and Community Resilience
Foods We Can Trust – A Blueprint for Food Security and Community Resilience in the UK https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/12/15/foods-we-can-trust-a-blueprint-for-food-security-and-community-resilience-in-the-uk-online-text/ Summary: Building on the essay’s theme that food is the anchor of real life, this blueprint offers practical strategies for restoring local food systems, ensuring food security, and strengthening community resilience. It demonstrates how food education, production, and sharing can reconnect people to the real world.
5. The Basic Living Standard: Security as Foundation
The Basic Living Standard Explained https://adamtugwell.blog/2025/10/24/the-basic-living-standard-explained/ Summary: This resource clarifies the concept of the Basic Living Standard (BLS), the foundation that removes fear and enables people to live locally. It explains how BLS guarantees essential needs, liberates individuals from the coercion of abstract systems, and creates the conditions for genuine contribution and community.
6. Centralisation and Its Consequences
Centralisation Only Rewards Those at the Centre https://adamtugwell.blog/2026/01/31/centralisation-only-rewards-those-at-the-centre/ Summary: This essay exposes the mechanisms and consequences of centralisation, showing how it perpetuates abstraction, distance, and inequality. It complements the main text’s argument by detailing why centralisation undermines locality and how reclaiming the local is essential for health, agency, and democracy.
Conclusion
Together, these readings form a coherent pathway for anyone seeking to move “out of the abstract” and into a reality that is local, human, and whole.
They offer philosophical depth, practical frameworks, and actionable blueprints – each one a step further into the architecture of a life that makes sense.
Frequently Asked Questions & Common Objections
1. Isn’t locality just nostalgia or romanticism?
Answer: Locality is not about longing for the past or rejecting progress. It’s the natural scale at which human beings thrive – where relationships, meaning, and health are experienced directly.
The argument for locality is grounded in practical realities: when life is lived locally, people are more resilient, communities are stronger, and systems are more accountable. Locality is not backward; it’s the foundation for a future that makes sense.
2. Is centralisation always bad?
Answer: Centralisation isn’t inherently evil, but when it becomes the dominant organising principle, it creates distance, removes empathy, and undermines accountability.
The problem arises when centralisation replaces local agency and turns lived experience into abstraction.
The goal is not to eliminate all central systems, but to restore balance – ensuring that decisions and value creation happen at the scale where people actually live.
3. Isn’t locality inefficient compared to global systems?
Answer: Efficiency is often measured in terms of speed, scale, or profit, but these metrics can hide the true costs: loss of meaning, health, and resilience.
Local systems may appear less “efficient” in narrow economic terms, but they excel at creating stability, agency, and wellbeing.
Locality is not small or limiting – it’s the scale at which human beings can flourish, adapt, and sustain themselves.
4. How can locality work in urban or highly connected environments?
Answer: Locality is not limited to rural areas. Urban communities can – and do – build local food systems, governance structures, and networks of mutual support.
The principles of locality apply wherever people live: grounding life in relationships, contribution, and shared responsibility.
Technology can be harnessed to strengthen local connections, not just to centralise control.
5. What about global challenges like climate change or pandemics?
Answer: Global challenges require cooperation across scales, but local resilience is essential for effective response.
Local systems are better able to adapt, mobilise, and care for their members.
The argument is not for isolation, but for restoring the capacity of communities to act meaningfully – while still collaborating globally where needed.
6. Isn’t the Basic Living Standard (BLS) just another form of welfare?
Answer: The BLS is not welfare, charity, or a safety net.
It’s a structural guarantee that every person who works a full week at the lowest legal wage can meet their essential needs.
The BLS removes the fear that keeps people trapped in the abstract world, enabling genuine contribution, agency, and community. It’s the foundation for a healthy society, not a handout.
7. How does LEGS differ from other economic or governance models?
Answer: LEGS – The Local Economy & Governance System – is not an ideology or utopian dream. It’s a practical structure built around the natural scale of human life.
LEGS centres value, work, and governance on people and communities, rather than money or distant institutions.
It restores visibility, accountability, and meaning to everyday life.
8. Isn’t this vision unrealistic in today’s world?
Answer: What’s truly unrealistic is expecting people to thrive in systems that disconnect them from meaning, agency, and community.
The abstract world is collapsing – socially, economically, and environmentally.
The vision of locality, BLS, and LEGS is not radical; it’s obvious once you see the costs of abstraction.
The journey begins with a shift in consciousness, and practical steps are possible for individuals, communities, and policymakers.
9. How do I start making my life more local and real?
Answer: Begin by noticing where abstraction has replaced reality in your daily life – food, work, relationships, governance.
Seek out opportunities to reconnect: grow or source local food, participate in community initiatives, support local businesses, and engage in local decision-making.
The journey is incremental, but every step toward locality restores meaning, agency, and health.
Glossary of Key Terms
Abstraction The process by which real, lived experiences are replaced by distant systems, representations, or mechanisms.
In the context of this book, abstraction refers to the way modern life is organised around concepts, structures, and processes that are removed from direct human experience.
Locality The natural scale of human life, where relationships, value, and meaning are experienced directly.
Locality emphasises living, working, and governing at the community or human scale, as opposed to distant or centralised systems.
Centralisation The concentration of power, decision-making, and resources in distant institutions or authorities, often at the expense of local agency and accountability.
Centralisation is identified as the engine that perpetuates abstraction and undermines local resilience.
Basic Living Standard (BLS) A structural guarantee that every person who works a full week at the lowest legal wage can meet all essential needs – food, housing, heat, water, clothing, healthcare, transport, communication, and basic participation in community life.
The BLS is designed to remove the fear that keeps people trapped in abstract systems.
Local Economy & Governance System (LEGS) A practical framework for organising economic and social life at the local scale.
LEGS centres value, work, and governance on people and communities, restoring visibility, accountability, and meaning to everyday life.
Contribution Work or effort that benefits the community or others, as opposed to transactional labour driven by fear or necessity.
Contribution is valued for its impact on wellbeing and community, not just its economic output.
Revaluation A shift in consciousness where individuals begin to see the abstract world clearly, understand the importance of locality, and reclaim agency, meaning, and connection.
The Revaluation marks the beginning of the journey back to real, local, human life.
Food Security The condition in which communities have reliable access to sufficient, safe, and nutritious food produced and distributed locally.
Food security is presented as a cornerstone of local resilience and wellbeing.
Community A group of people who share responsibility, relationships, and lived experience at the local scale.
Community is distinguished from abstract or digital groups by its grounding in place and mutual support.
Agency The capacity of individuals or communities to act meaningfully, make decisions, and shape their own lives.
Agency is diminished by abstraction and centralisation, but restored through locality and the Basic Living Standard.
Resilience The ability of individuals or communities to adapt, recover, and thrive in the face of challenges.
Local systems are described as more resilient than centralised ones because they are grounded in relationships and direct experience.
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 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.
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.