There’s a moment in every long game when the tempo changes. You can’t always name it as it’s happening—but later, in hindsight, it was obvious. The cracks were everywhere. The soundtrack shifted. The mask slipped.
I think we’re in that moment now.
This isn’t about another interest rate hike, a busted bank, or a geopolitical tremor. Those are just signals of something deeper. What we’re experiencing is the long-unfolding consequence of decades of monetary distortion—what Guido Hülsmann calls “the ethical degradation of money production.” Central banks, once seen as stewards of stability, are now arsonists in the engine room. To quote Grant Williams: “They should not survive this. But they’ll be the last institutions to crumble.”
What Game Are You Playing?
I don’t own gold because I think it's going up.
I own gold because I believe in preserving optionality when the unit of measurement (the currency) is rotting. I bought gold in 2021—not because I had a price target, but because I wanted to solve a problem. That problem was the erosion of purchasing power.
And here’s the kicker: I never sold an ounce. Not because I’m dogmatic, but because gold isn’t a trade for me. It’s a mindset.
Gold is not an investment. It’s not even a hedge. It’s money. The only real money. And in a world where money has been transformed into a policy tool, I want something that stands outside the system.
As Hülsmann puts it:
“Monetary policy has become a tool of economic destruction rather than protection.”
(The Ethics of Money Production)
What Gold Actually Does
Here’s how I think about it:
Gold doesn’t make me rich. It keeps me honest. It gives me time. It lets me choose. It’s not about return on capital—it's about preservation of capital. In the end, it’s not just about wealth—it’s about sovereignty.
And no, I don’t care about the daily price.
Gold doesn’t exist to beat inflation. It exists to sidestep debasement. That’s a crucial distinction. It’s not a hedge. It’s not a trade. It’s a form of exit—an exit from the insanity.
It’s exchanging one unit of currency for money that isn’t anyone else’s liability.
We’ve Left the Era of Financialization
In this environment, most people are renters—not owners. They rent risk, chase returns, and outsource conviction. But capital preservation isn’t about trading volatility—it’s about owning things that endure. Real capital is built slowly, thoughtfully, and with redundancy.
We are exiting the financialized era. If the last two decades were about extracting yield through leverage and liquidity, the coming years will be about resilience, redundancy, and ownership. The playbook has changed—but most haven’t noticed yet.
As Simon Mikhailovich warns, you don’t want to be the last one in the theater when the fire starts. The point isn’t to time the exit. The point is to have already exited before everyone realizes the door is locked.
Preservation Is Not Passivity
To preserve doesn’t mean to stand still. It means acting with intent. Trimming gold because its value has grown relative to what you need? Fine. But understand what you’re doing. You’re not selling to take profits—you’re reallocating with purpose.
The goal is not to win. The goal is to remain.
To stay liquid when liquidity dies.
To stay sane when the system gaslights you.
That’s what gold does. It protects your ability to choose. It gives you breathing room when the noise gets deafening.
Final Thought
So, is now the time to sell gold?
Wrong question.
The right one is: Do I own anything that preserves my sovereignty when the illusion of stability dies?
That’s not a forecast. It’s a framework. A mindset. And I’ll keep holding mine until I see something I want to own more.
Until then, the price is irrelevant.
The author currently holds approximately 30% of their portfolio in physical gold and silver ETCs, diversified across multiple jurisdictions, along with positions in select mining companies. This is not investment advice—just a reflection of personal conviction and positioning.