But I hold no judgment in my heart since I understand the beauty of being wrong. Being wrong isn’t permanent, and being wrong, if done correctly, could lead you to something better than being right.
The ticker symbols line the jumbotron outside the Friedman Trading Building. It’s Monday at 8:29am sharp and the streets are quiet. Most people show up around 3-4am to do premarket analysis and most stay until 5-6pm to do after hours analysis. Most people think they are going the extra mile, yet paradoxically they are all ensnared in the same gruesome marathon.
Markets don’t care about your feelings. Principles don’t matter, results do. If you commit and fail, you’re a failure. And if you don’t commit, you’re a coward. But if you win- oh my- if you win, then annuit cœptis. In this society our politicians and experts use only descriptions as prescriptions and our freedoms can only be defined by how much we allow markets to regiment us. By the end of Monday, you don’t even care if it was a red or a green day for the Nasdaq you just hope your monotonous job will be there tomorrow. On the drive back home, you have a collection of thoughts that go something like this:
You: Sometimes I wish I could take a break from this work and spend more time with my family.
Self: You could, you are free to do so.
You: Who will pay the bills? How will I maintain my current lifestyle? How will I explain to my family and friends this shameful desire to break away from this daily rotation of pain and hopelessness?
Self: Well, the laws of the market stipulate that in order to have value, you must create it first.
You: Okay, suppose I tell you story?
Self: Fine but remember this car ride won’t last forever.
You: Okay okay, to set the scene, imagine you are homeless and hungry traveling across the city in search of the basic necessities of life.
Self: Okay
You: You stumble upon the local farmers market where the locals are displaying their finest foods and crops from their recent harvest. You reach into your pockets as an attempt to will some kind of paper money into them, but as sadly expected, you only come up with lint. After walking around the market, you find that everyone says the exact same thing to you as you pass by, “Hello sir, you look mighty hungry, feel free to choose anything you’d like”. And each time you smile, thank them for their kindness, and reach for one unit from their basket. Subsequently without fail, the seller then points to the small sign affixed to the basket that states “1.25 Each”. Was there even one instance of freedom exercised within this market? From the premises laid out in this story, could you reasonably end the syllogism with “Therefore markets derive freedom.”?
Self: Perhaps the seller could sell whatever he wanted to. Isn’t he free to be generous and free to use his labor to derive what he pleases?
You: But how could he? He only sells what he knows how to grow, which is limited by who taught him and where he is. His generosity is limited by his bills and previously agreed responsibilities. The seller’s freedom, just like the buyers, is limited to its accessibility.
Self: Sure sure, but I think you are going overboard with this; obviously, we should have some sort of welfare state that helps people when they are hungry or sick. I just don’t think it is okay for people to be bailed out of situations they willfully put themselves in.
You: It’s interesting how principles suddenly now matter. Isn’t it funny how the upper echelon is subservient to a different rule set? Our freedoms are categorically different. The upper echelon has access to influence and opportunities that those in the lower 99% don’t have.
Now before I find a way to seamlessly close this story, I’d like to take the time to break the fourth wall for only a quick moment since I know you value your privacy. When I was a child, I remember seeing good people allow bad things to happen. But I hold no judgment in my heart since I understand the beauty of being wrong. Being wrong isn’t permanent, and being wrong, if done correctly, could lead you to something better than being right.
Self: Well, this is the end of the car ride. Hopefully we can come to a better understanding soon.
You: Same.
As the door opens to your home you realize that everything is the same, including that feeling of something not being right.