The Dollar's game: Power, perception, mythology and control of global economy

The very notion of money is a constructed reality, a shared illusion we mistake for tangible truth. Its value isn't inherent; it's a meticulously crafted myth, propagated by the confluence of cultural, social, political, and industrial forces. This orchestrated belief, this collective hallucination, is the bedrock of our economic system.

This belief, this faith in the power of money, is not fundamentally different from our belief in God or a political ideology. It's a leap of faith, a collective acceptance of an intangible concept that shapes our reality. Just as religious or political doctrines require widespread acceptance to hold sway, so too does money.

The global dominance of the American dollar exemplifies this principle. It's not a testament to inherent superiority, but a demonstration of the United States' capacity to impose its narrative, to convince—or coerce—the world into accepting its currency as the universal measure of value. This power is wielded through the manipulation of shared belief, a testament to the sway of collective perception.

From this understanding, the fetishization of currency backed by gold, or any other commodity, as the sole arbiter of monetary integrity becomes a flawed premise. Money, at its core, is a tool for quantifying exchange, its effectiveness tied to stability and transparency. The gold standard, far from being a safeguard, merely relocates the locus of manipulation, shifting it from printing presses to gold reserves.

This shift reveals the true source of the dollar’s instability, which is not the removal of the gold standard, but the unchecked expansion of its supply. Each new injection of dollars into the global market acts as a silent tax, a form of economic imperialism that devalues the holdings of even the poorest nations, a direct consequence of faith in the dollar.

Therefore, the search for an incorruptible monetary system, whether anchored in gold or digital code, is a pursuit of a chimera. 

Money, ultimately, is a reflection of power, a tool shaped by belief and political reality. Given that its value derives from shared belief, and beliefs are always malleable, the question remains: can a truly neutral system ever exist, or are we forever trapped within the subjective, politically charged narratives of our economic myths?

Was Indus Valley Civilization the fountainhead of democracy? The myth of Ancient Athens

Great Bath of Mohenjo-Daro

Democracy is often credited to Ancient Athens, where formal institutions of popular governance emerged in the 5th century BCE. However, some scholars argue that democratic principles may have deeper historical roots, possibly extending to civilizations like the Indus Valley Civilization, which thrived from 3300 to 1300 BCE in present-day India and Pakistan.

Due to the undeciphered Indus script, the political structure of the  Indus Valley Civilization remains uncertain. Yet, archaeological evidence suggests a highly organized society with meticulously planned cities such as Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro. These urban centers featured sophisticated drainage systems, standardized weights and measures, and well-structured streets, but notably lacked monumental palaces or elaborate royal tombs—hallmarks of centralized monarchy.

Unlike contemporary Mesopotamian and Egyptian civilizations, dominated by powerful rulers, the  Indus Valley Civilization presents little evidence of autocratic rule. Instead, its uniform infrastructure suggests governance through councils or assemblies, where power may have been distributed among merchants, elders, and religious leaders. While definitive proof of early democracy is elusive, this decentralized structure challenges the notion that democratic ideals originated solely in Athens.

Western historiography often overlooks the limitations of Athenian democracy. Political participation was restricted to free and property-owning male citizens, excluding close to 90% of the population, including women, enslaved individuals and non-citizens. In contrast, the  Indus Valley Civilization presents no evidence of rigid patriarchal control akin to that of Ancient Athens. 

A common misconception is that veiling originated in Asia, yet historical records show that aristocratic Athenian women were expected to remain indoors and be fully covered in public. Meanwhile, ancient Persian women—contemporaries of the Greeks—could own property, engage in commerce, and participate in social life, suggesting greater gender equity in non-Greek civilizations. No depictions of veiled women have been found in  Indus Valley Civilization artifacts.

Greek philosopher Aristotle reinforced rigid gender roles, asserting women’s inferiority and justifying their exclusion from public and political life. Other ancient societies, however, exhibited more fluid gender norms and greater economic and social participation for women. Persia’s progressive stance on women’s rights diminished following its conquest by Alexander the Great in 330 BCE. With the spread of Hellenistic influence, gender roles became more rigid, and the restrictions characteristic of Greek society began to take hold in Persian territories.

These considerations invite a reevaluation of democracy’s origins. Concepts like collective decision-making, the absence of absolute rulers, and participatory governance may have emerged independently in multiple civilizations, including the  Indus Valley Civilization. Democracy, rather than being the singular invention of one culture, likely evolved across different societies, shaped by their unique historical contexts.

The trifecta of power: Greed, guilt and fear as the foundations of civilization

Civilizations are not built on morality, reason, or cultural pride but on three primal forces: greed, guilt, and fear. While we celebrate justice, patriotism, and faith as noble ideals, they often mask deeper motivations that shape human behavior and sustain power structures.

The Illusion of Morality

Morality is rarely a pure guiding force. Instead, it emerges from guilt and fear—fear of consequences and guilt for failing societal norms. People act ethically not because of an inherent sense of right and wrong, but to avoid punishment or inner turmoil. If morality is just an emotional tool for social control, can it truly claim to be an independent force?

Reason: A Tool of Justification

Reason is often praised as humanity’s defining trait, yet it frequently serves to rationalize instincts rather than challenge them. Political ideologies, economic systems, and religious doctrines claim rational foundations but are deeply rooted in greed, guilt, and fear. More often than not, reason constructs justifications for what we already desire to believe.

Culture and Patriotism: Reinforced Through Fear and Guilt

Culture and patriotism are often linked to guilt—guilt for failing ancestors and fear of repeating historical tragedies. National pride is built on narratives of past suffering, ensuring conformity through coercion rather than appreciation. Societal cohesion thrives on these anxieties, maintaining power by appealing to inherited duty and existential threats.

Faith: A Response to Fear and Desire

Belief in God stems from fear of meaninglessness and a desire for security—be it wealth, power, or an afterlife. Even atheists place faith in ideologies, science, or progress, crafting secular belief systems that serve the same existential function. Faith, in any form, offers reassurance in a chaotic world, reinforcing societal order.

Power and the Manipulation of Emotion

Greed, guilt, and fear are the ultimate instruments of control. Effective rulers understand that people respond more to these primal forces than to reason or morality. Political and religious leaders cultivate them to shape public behavior, ensuring stability while maintaining their influence.

To grasp how societies function, we must strip away comforting illusions and recognize the raw mechanics of power. Only by confronting these forces can we hope to navigate them—either as those who wield power or those who resist it.

The enigma of brain in a vat: Is the world real or a simulation?

What is the mind? Is it a function of the brain, or does it possess a deeper, intrinsic quality that transcends mere neural activity? Does the mind endure beyond the final cessation of brain function? With over 100 billion neurons collaborating in the intricate tapestry of the mature human brain, what roles do these cells play in shaping our mental experiences? 

And when we make choices, are we guided solely by intricate chemical and electrical reactions in the brain, or do we exert genuine free will?

If our decisions are nothing more than the result of biochemical reactions, then the concept of free will becomes questionable. It raises alarming possibilities: can we manipulate individuals into making specific choices simply by altering the brain’s chemical and electrical processes? Conversely, if the mind is independent of these material mechanisms, we might argue for the existence of free will—a belief that our choices stem from a source beyond mere biological determinism.

The connection between the mind and matter—between our mental experiences and the physical brain—has confounded humanity for millennia. Across civilizations, sages and philosophers have articulated theological doctrines and philosophical theses attempting to elucidate this relationship. Yet today, many of these ancient perspectives are often relegated to the realms of mythology and fiction.

Despite our advances, the fundamental questions persist: What is the true relationship between mind and matter? How do we make choices? When we utter the word "I," what do we truly mean?

In contemporary discourse, philosophers and scientists alike wrestle with conceptual puzzles such as the "brain in a vat" thought experiment. This scenario compels us to envision ourselves as disembodied brains immersed in a simulation, questioning the authenticity of our experiences. Is the universe we perceive genuine, or is it merely an elaborate construct of neural processes, akin to a digital matrix?

This conundrum is hardly a novel invention. Ancient philosophers and sages anticipated aspects of these debates, presenting the human body as a vessel—a clay container—designed to house the soul or mind. In this view, every living being embodies the duality of existence: the physical form as a "vat" and the mind as the "soul."

Fossil Fuels, Space & Science: Why Petroleum Is Just as Natural as Solar and Wi

The notion that solar and wind power are "natural," while petroleum, diesel, and gas are "unnatural," is a narrative developed and propagated by Western intellectuals, politicians, geopolitical strategists, universities and media houses. 

This distinction is not rooted in science but in ideology—often serving as a tool to hinder the energy independence and economic growth of developing nations by limiting their access to affordable and reliable fuel sources.

Everything in the universe is natural. Humans are a product of nature, and so is everything we create—cars, buildings, AI, and even petrol and diesel. The distinction between "natural" and "unnatural" is an ideological construct, not a scientific reality.

Petroleum is composed of hydrocarbons formed through planetary processes we do not fully understand. The claim that it originates solely from ancient organic matter is flawed—if true, how do we explain the presence of hydrocarbons in space? 

Scientists have detected them on distant planets and moons, where no dinosaurs or prehistoric forests ever existed. This suggests that hydrocarbons are not remnants of past life but a fundamental part of planetary chemistry.

The real question, then, is not whether hydrocarbons are "natural" but why we insist on labeling some energy sources as "pure" while vilifying others. Understanding hydrocarbons beyond ideological biases could lead to more balanced energy policies and innovation.

The geopolitical consequences of declining birth rates: A warning for the future

Instead of looking to nations with shrinking populations as models of success, India’s policymakers should study those that maintain high birth rates while balancing economic growth and social stability. A thriving nation fosters family-friendly policies, invests in its youth, and recognizes that demographic health is as crucial as economic strength.

History shows that the future belongs to societies that prioritize strong families and high birth rates. In any civilizational conflict, technological and economic superiority may offer short-term gains, but in the long run, the society with the higher birth rate prevails. Without a new generation to carry the torch, even the greatest civilizations fade into history.

A birth rate below the replacement level of 2.1 children per woman signals slow but inevitable decline. A shrinking workforce leads to labor shortages, stagnating innovation, and slowing economic growth. While automation and productivity gains may temporarily mask the impact, the long-term effects are unavoidable: fewer taxpayers, strained pension systems, and overburdened healthcare services.

Imagine a nation where the elderly outnumber the young, with too few workers to sustain the economy. Who will power industries, drive innovation, govern the country, or defend its borders. As populations decline, geopolitical influence wanes. A country unable to sustain its population risks losing global standing, military strength, and economic clout.

Many nations turn to immigration to replenish their workforce, but this comes with challenges—cultural integration, social cohesion, and political friction. Strong national identities and welfare states often struggle to balance the need for workers with the complexities of assimilation. More importantly, relying on immigration is a temporary fix that ignores the root problem: the decline of native-born populations.

A falling birth rate reshapes a nation’s political landscape. With fewer young voters, policies increasingly cater to an aging population, leading to economic stagnation and resistance to change. Without a course correction, the consequences of demographic decline will reshape the future in ways many fail to foresee.

Elon Musk’s dream of Mars landing by 2029: Bold vision or political theater?

Elon Musk has a habit of making audacious predictions. On Saturday, the SpaceX founder declared that Starship—the world’s most powerful rocket—would set course for Mars by the end of 2026, carrying Tesla’s humanoid robot, Optimus. Even more astonishingly, he suggested that human landings could begin “as soon as 2029.”

If this timeline holds, it would mark one of the most transformative moments in human history. The dream of becoming a multi-planetary species would no longer belong to the realm of science fiction but to the tangible future. But the real question is: does Musk truly believe in these projections, or is this just another instance of him thinking out loud—leveraging grand promises to energize investors, engineers, and policymakers?

Musk is more than just a visionary; he is a shrewd businessman and an increasingly influential political player. His bold proclamations serve multiple purposes. On one hand, they spark excitement, mobilizing resources and talent to push SpaceX’s ambitions forward. On the other, they strategically reinforce his economic and political influence—keeping SpaceX at the center of government contracts, shaping space policy, and cementing his status as a figurehead of technological progress.

History offers ample reason for skepticism. Musk has made bold promises before—about self-driving cars, hyperloops, and Mars colonization—many of which have yet to materialize on schedule, if at all. Space exploration remains one of the most complex and unforgiving endeavors imaginable. While SpaceX has undeniably revolutionized the industry, the reality of human landings on Mars by 2029 remains deeply uncertain.

I don’t believe Musk’s 2029 Mars landing is a genuine target. Rather, it is a calculated narrative—one designed to appeal to an audience that craves American exceptionalism and the projection of global technological and military dominance. Whether Musk’s prediction is an earnest aspiration or a strategic exaggeration, one thing is certain: We will know the truth in 2029, which is just four years away.

Reforms by Sorcerer’s Apprentice: Gorbachev, Deng, Trump and the Risks of Transforming a Nation

In his 2021 book Collapse: The Fall of the Soviet Union, historian Vladislav M. Zubok argues that Mikhail Gorbachev’s well-intentioned but misguided reforms were the primary cause of the Soviet Union’s dissolution. 



Rather than stabilizing the economy, strengthening political structures, and improving living conditions, Gorbachev’s twin policies of Perestroika (economic restructuring) and Glasnost (political openness) acted like the fabled Sorcerer’s Apprentice—unleashing forces he could not control.

Instead of fostering a more resilient Soviet state, these reforms ignited long-suppressed nationalist and ethnic grievances, while also raising expectations for democracy. The unintended consequences of Gorbachev’s reforms accelerated the unraveling of the Soviet system, culminating in its collapse in 1991.

Contrast this with China, where Deng Xiaoping faced a similar challenge in 1989. The Tiananmen Square protests, driven by demands for political freedoms and ethnic autonomy, presented a direct threat to the Communist Party’s control. But unlike Gorbachev, Deng took decisive and brutal action—deploying tanks and troops to crush the uprising. This show of force ensured the survival of China’s one-party system and its continued economic rise. 

China’s rise as a global superpower was not merely the result of economic reforms but also of ruthless political control. Had Deng Xiaoping not ordered the military to suppress the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989, China could have faced prolonged political unrest, potential regime instability, or even fragmentation—similar to what befell the Soviet Union.

By crushing the pro-democracy movement, Deng ensured the Communist Party’s unchallenged authority, creating the political stability necessary for China’s rapid economic growth. This brutal decision was arguably the linchpin that preserved the centralized power structure essential for China’s transformation into the world’s second-largest economy.

The lesson is clear: Reforming a nation is a perilous undertaking. Like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, leaders who attempt transformation without fully grasping the consequences risk unleashing forces that may ultimately destroy the very state they seek to strengthen.

Now, as Donald Trump once again attempts to reshape the United States with sweeping proposals on immigration, government institutions, and the economy, one must ask: what happens if his reforms destabilize American society? If social and political forces spiral out of control, will Trump—if given the opportunity—have the will to act decisively, as Deng Xiaoping did? Or will he, like Gorbachev, preside over a nation fracturing beyond repair?

I believe Trump is more likely to follow Gorbachev’s path, overseeing a rapid decline in America's military and economic dominance rather than strengthening it.

Holi: A festival of water, colors and nature

Happy Holi!

Holi, the festival of water, colors and joy, is deeply intertwined with the natural spirit of Hinduism. Unlike many faiths rooted in deserts or dry landscapes, Hinduism emerged in the lush, fertile lands of the Indian subcontinent, where monsoons breathe life into the earth and sacred rivers flow. The celebration of Holi, marked by water and vibrant hues, is a reflection of this ecological connection.

Water holds a sacred place in Hindu tradition, and no story captures this reverence better than the legendary descent of the River Ganga. According to ancient texts, Sage Bhagiratha’s penance moved the heavens, and with the aid of Lord Shiva, the mighty Ganga flowed from celestial realms to earth. This tale is not just mythology—it symbolizes the life-giving power of rivers, the sanctity of nature, and the harmonious relationship between Hinduism and the environment.

The roots of this reverence stretch back to the Rig Veda, the oldest Hindu scripture, where the Ganga is first mentioned. The very genesis of Vedic Hinduism coincides with the river’s earthly flow, signifying the spiritual and ecological bond between the religion and its surroundings. Holi, celebrated with splashes of water and an explosion of colors, is a tribute to this natural heritage—a reminder of the blessings of monsoons, rivers, the fertile land and the vibrant colors of the natural world.

In a world where environmental concerns are growing, Holi stands as a testament to Hinduism’s deep respect for a natural and spiritual way of life. It is not just a festival of joy, but a vibrant acknowledgment of the elements that sustain life—water, earth, air and the eternal rhythm of seasons.

The Illusion of Choice: Trump, Ukraine, and the Limits of Western Power

At a recent press conference, Donald Trump said: "I think Ukraine wants to make a deal because they have no choice. I think Russia wants to make a deal because, in some way—one that only I know—they have no choice either.”

This is classic Trump—framing himself as the ultimate dealmaker, the only one with real power and full information, while the leaders of all non-Western countries are in the dark and left with no options. He wants his conservative base in America to believe that all nations will bend to his will, but the reality is far different.

America is no longer the all-powerful empire it once was. Economic strain, political divisions, and shifting global dynamics have weakened its ability to dictate terms unilaterally. Even key Western allies like Britain, France, and Germany are struggling with the economic and political will to sustain a prolonged war in Ukraine. Whether they admit it or not, they, too, have little choice but to seek an endgame.

Meanwhile, Russia isn’t just holding the line—it’s advancing. Reports suggest a major offensive in Ukraine’s Kursk region, with heavy losses on the Ukrainian side. If the conflict drags on, Moscow could push even deeper into Ukrainian territory, raising an unsettling question: how far will this go?

History has seen Russian troops enter Berlin three times. The first was in 1760 during the Seven Years’ War, when they briefly occupied the city. The second came in 1813, after Napoleon’s disastrous invasion of Russia, when Russian forces helped drive the French out of Germany. And, of course, the third time was in 1945, when the Red Army stormed Berlin, ending Hitler’s reign and dividing Europe for the next 45 years.

Will history repeat itself? If the war in Ukraine escalates further, the idea of Russian forces moving deeper into Central Europe no longer seems like pure fiction. The real question isn’t just whether Ukraine or Russia has a choice—but whether the West itself does.

Democracy’s War Machine: How Elected Leaders Keep the World in Conflict

The belief that democracies are inherently peaceful is a widespread but misleading notion. History suggests that democratic states have often been more prone to war, internal instability, and systemic violence than non-democratic regimes. 

In fact, democracies have been responsible for significant instances of slavery, genocide, and imperial conquests. Western historians frequently celebrate Ancient Athens as the birthplace of democracy, highlighting its contributions to governance and philosophy. However, this narrative often omits the darker aspects of Athenian society. 

Athens was a major instigator of wars in Ancient Greece, engaging in expansionist conflicts and brutal subjugation of its rivals. The city-state's military dominance was defined by hoplite warfare, where heavily armored infantry fought in tightly disciplined formations, resulting in brutal and large-scale bloodshed. Slavery was not only present in Athens but was more deeply entrenched there than in its chief adversary, Sparta. Paradoxically, the Persian Empire, often depicted as the antagonist of Greek democracy, had a lower percentage of enslaved people and afforded women greater social freedoms than either Athens or Sparta.

In the modern era, the two most catastrophic conflicts in human history—World War I and World War II—were primarily driven by democratic Western nations. 

While they are commonly referred to as "World Wars," they were, in essence, conflicts centered around Western powers vying for dominance. Following World War II, the global balance of power shifted toward the United States and the Soviet Union. The U.S., a self-proclaimed champion of democracy, has been consistently engaged in military interventions and conflicts worldwide. By contrast, the Soviet Union—despite being labeled an authoritarian state—was involved in comparatively fewer wars.

Even today, the United States plays a central role in global conflicts. In Ukraine, American strategic interests have led to policies that exacerbate the ongoing war, using Ukraine as a geopolitical tool to counter Russian influence in the Black Sea region—often at great human cost to the Ukrainian people.

A fundamental issue with democratic systems is the tendency for populist leaders to rise by promising military glory, economic spoils, and national prestige. In the United States, presidents often seek war as a means to secure their legacy and rally domestic support. The cycle of conflict perpetuates itself, driven by electoral incentives and the demands of an interventionist foreign policy. The United States appears to be on a relentless quest for everlasting military and economic supremacy over the world.

Ultimately, the idea that democracy equates to peace does not withstand historical scrutiny. A more balanced understanding of history reveals that democratic states, far from being pacifist, have frequently been among the most militaristic and aggressive actors on the world stage.

The Ukraine War: How U.S. Policies Set the Stage for Conflict

The U.S. political establishment insists that Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine was “unprovoked.” But this narrative ignores the deeper origins of the conflict—rooted in decades of Western expansionism.

One key trigger was NATO’s push to incorporate Ukraine and Georgia, tightening a military noose around Russia in the Black Sea region—an existential red line for Moscow.

Another was the U.S.- and U.K.-backed coup on February 22, 2014, which ousted Ukraine’s democratically elected, pro-Russia president, Viktor Yanukovych. His removal ignited war in Donbas and led to Russia’s annexation of Crimea.

Donald Trump pins the blame on President Zelensky, but Zelensky himself is a creation of U.S. and British intelligence interests—widely seen as a Western puppet.

Had Washington not pursued NATO expansion or orchestrated regime change in Ukraine, the devastating war may never have happened.

In this brief but powerful video, Jeffrey Sachs unravels the dark and twisted history of U.S. involvement in Ukraine with striking clarity.

Oval Office Spectacle of Immaturity: The Decline and Fall of American Leadership

American conservatives, self-proclaimed patriots, are celebrating the heated Oval Office confrontation between Donald Trump, J.D. Vance, and Volodymyr Zelensky.

They see it as a display of American strength. But after watching the full exchange, I see something different—Trump and Vance came across as bullies, while Zelensky appeared desperate and overwhelmed. The entire spectacle was a glaring example of the immaturity now defining U.S. leadership.

If Trump wanted to pressure Zelensky, a far more effective approach would have been to deny him an audience altogether. Letting lower-level officials handle negotiations would have placed America in a stronger position.

Instead, the President of the world’s most powerful nation, the only so-called superpower, demeaned himself and his office by engaging in a public shouting match with the leader of a war-ravaged, oligarch-infested and debt-ridden country.

Diplomatic and military strategy discussions should never be conducted in front of TV cameras. A private negotiation, followed by a carefully managed press statement, would have been the responsible approach. Instead, Trump—ever the narcissist—chose to turn it into a spectacle, prioritizing attention over diplomacy.

I have previously argued that Trump is to America what Gorbachev was to the Soviet Union. This latest Oval Office debacle only reinforces my belief—Trump is presiding over America’s decline, much like Gorbachev oversaw the Soviet Union’s collapse.