What If Money Didn't Exist?
Society

What If Money Didn't Exist?

• 7 min read

The romantic version of this thought experiment goes like this: without money, people would share freely, work for the joy of it, and build a society based on mutual aid rather than profit. We'd all grow vegetables, help our neighbours, and live in a kind of gentle, perpetual village fete where everyone brings a casserole and nobody keeps score.

This would last about four hours.

What money actually does

Money is a technology for solving a specific problem: the coincidence of wants. If you're a baker and you need shoes, you have to find a cobbler who happens to want bread. Without money, every transaction requires this double coincidence. The baker needs the cobbler and the cobbler needs the baker, at the same time, in the same place, wanting roughly equal amounts of each other's output.

In a village of fifty people, this is manageable. In a city of five million, it's impossible.

Money also stores value across time (you can save today and spend tomorrow), provides a unit of account (you can compare the cost of a haircut to the cost of a car), and enables exchange between strangers who will never meet again. These functions are so basic and so old that evidence of proto-monetary systems appears in archaeological records going back at least 5,000 years. Barley, cowrie shells, metal ingots. Humans have always found something to use as money.

Remove it and you don't get a utopia. You get a coordination problem on a species-wide scale.

Week one

Shops close. Not because the food disappears but because nobody knows how to distribute it. The supermarket model works because money mediates supply and demand. Tesco doesn't need to know whether you're a baker, a plumber, or a retired teacher. You have money, they have food, transaction complete.

Without money, the supermarket has to somehow decide who gets what. First come, first served? Need-based allocation? A committee? Every option is slower, less efficient, and more susceptible to corruption than the price system. Queues form. Arguments start. Someone takes more than their share because nobody can stop them without an agreed-upon system of enforcement.

Petrol stations face the same problem but with added urgency. People need fuel to get to work, except work has also stopped functioning because wages don't exist. The entire chain of "I work, I get paid, I buy things" has snapped at the second link.

Empty shop shelves with confused shoppers

Within days, barter emerges. It always does. People start trading whatever they have for whatever they need. A plumber fixes your toilet in exchange for a week's worth of eggs from your chickens. A mechanic services your car for a case of wine. It works, sort of, at a hyperlocal level.

The barter problem

Barter is spectacularly inefficient. Economists call it the problem of "indivisibility." If you're a dentist who needs a new roof, you need to find a roofer who needs dental work. And the dental work needs to be worth roughly the same as the roofing job. And you both need to be available at the same time.

In practice, people end up doing absurd chains of trades. The dentist trades dental work for wine, trades wine for chickens, trades chickens for roofing labour. Each step loses value to transaction costs and spoilage. An economy running on barter operates at maybe 10 to 20 percent of the efficiency of a monetary economy. That means roughly 80 percent of potential economic activity simply doesn't happen.

Within weeks, something starts functioning as money. History tells us exactly what it will be, because every human society that has lost access to official currency has independently reinvented it. Cigarettes in prisoner-of-war camps. Mackerel tins in US federal prisons (where they became so standardised as currency that prisoners referred to them as "macks" and the price of a haircut was two macks as of 2004). Bullets in post-collapse economies. Salt along ancient trade routes (the word "salary" comes from the Latin salarium, connected to salt).

People don't choose to use money because they're greedy. They choose it because the alternative is standing in a field trying to negotiate how many dental cleanings equal one roof repair.

Who thrives

People with practical skills and tangible goods do best. Farmers, builders, mechanics, doctors. Anyone whose work produces something you can see, touch, eat, or live in. These people have automatic bargaining power because what they offer is obviously and immediately useful.

People with abstract skills suffer. Accountants, financial analysts, marketing professionals, management consultants. Not because their work is worthless but because its value is invisible in a barter economy. Try trading "strategic brand positioning advice" for a sack of potatoes. The farmer is going to look at you with the expression you deserve.

Software developers occupy an odd middle ground. Their skills are abstract but the products are tangible. The person who can fix your computer, set up a local network, or keep the village's communication systems running has real bargaining power. The person whose job was "optimising ad click-through rates" does not.

Communities contract

Without money, trade radius shrinks. You can barter effectively with people you know and see regularly. You cannot barter with a factory in Shenzhen. International trade, which is responsible for the vast majority of the goods in your house right now, stops.

No international trade means no electronics, no imported food, no manufactured goods from countries with comparative advantages in production. The UK grows about 60% of its own food. That percentage drops when you factor in the fertilisers, pesticides, fuel, and machinery needed to farm at industrial scale, most of which are imported or produced using imported materials.

Local market with people trading goods directly

Communities become much more local. Your economic world shrinks from global to maybe a 30-kilometre radius. You eat what grows nearby. You wear what can be made nearby. You use tools that can be manufactured nearby. Living standards drop to something like the early medieval period, not because knowledge has been lost but because the coordination mechanism that enabled specialisation and trade at scale has been removed.

Power doesn't disappear

One of the assumptions behind the "money-free utopia" idea is that without money, power inequalities would vanish. They wouldn't. Power would just be denominated differently.

The person with the most land has power. The person with the most stored food has power. The person who controls the water supply, the bridge, the only road into town. Physical strength matters more when disputes can't be resolved by lawyers and courts funded by tax revenues that no longer exist.

Warlordism is the historical default when centralised economic systems collapse. Someone with weapons and followers takes control of resources and distributes them in exchange for loyalty. It's feudalism. We already did this for a thousand years. It wasn't great.

Even in optimistic scenarios where communities govern themselves cooperatively, hierarchies emerge within weeks. The most charismatic, the most skilled, the most ruthless. Someone always ends up in charge. The only question is whether that person earned their position through ability or seized it through force.

Reinventing what we had

Give it six months. A year at most. Some community, somewhere, starts using a standardised token to represent value. Maybe it's grain. Maybe it's hours of labour. Maybe it's hand-stamped metal discs. Whatever it is, it functions as money. It stores value, enables exchange between strangers, and provides a unit of account.

Other communities adopt it or create their own. Exchange rates develop between different local currencies. Trade routes re-establish. Markets form. Prices emerge from supply and demand. Within a generation, the system looks remarkably like what we had before, because what we had before wasn't arbitrary. It was the solution to a problem that doesn't go away just because you wish it would.

Money isn't the disease. It's the symptom. The underlying condition is that eight billion people need to coordinate the production and distribution of goods and services across a planet, and no one has found a better tool for doing that than letting prices carry information. You can abolish the tool. The problem remains, and it starts rebuilding the tool from whatever materials are lying around.