Money as a Tool of Control

Lisa Torres wakes up to find her bank account frozen.

Not overdrawn. Not hacked. Frozen.

She tries to buy coffee on her way to work. Card declined. She tries the ATM. Access denied. She opens her banking app. A message in red: “Account temporarily restricted. Please contact customer service.”

She calls. Waits on hold for twenty minutes. Finally reaches someone.

“Why is my account frozen?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Torres. Your account has been flagged by our fraud detection system.”

“Flagged for what? I haven’t done anything.”

“I don’t have access to the specific details. The system detected unusual activity patterns. For security purposes, we’ve temporarily restricted access while we review.”

“How long will that take?”

“Usually three to five business days.”

“Three to five days? I need to buy groceries. I need to pay my rent. This is my money.”

“I understand your frustration, but this is for your protection. We need to verify…”

“Verify what? What did I do?”

“I can’t access those details. The automated system handles the flagging. Someone from our security team will contact you.”

Lisa hangs up. She has $23 in cash in her wallet. Her rent is due in two days. Her checking account has $4,200. She can see it in the app. She just can’t access it.

She didn’t commit fraud. Didn’t make unusual purchases. Didn’t do anything wrong. An algorithm decided her behavior was suspicious. And now she’s locked out of her own money. No warning. No explanation. No recourse except waiting for someone to review her case.

Five days later, the restriction is lifted. No explanation. No apology. The account just opens again. She never learns what triggered the flag. She never speaks to anyone from security. The system decided she was suspicious, then decided she wasn’t.

The power was demonstrated. That was the point.

The Architecture of Control

In 1791, Jeremy Bentham designed a prison called the panopticon.

Prisoners lived in cells arranged in a circle. In the center stood a tower. Guards could see into every cell. Prisoners couldn’t see into the tower. They never knew when they were being watched.

So they assumed they were always watched. They policed themselves. Modified their behavior. Became obedient. Not because guards monitored them constantly, but because they might be monitored at any moment.

Bentham understood something profound: you don’t need to watch people constantly to control them. You just need them to believe they might be watched. The architecture creates the control.

Bentham’s panopticon was never fully built as he imagined it. But the idea never died.

It just waited for the right technology.

That technology arrived when money became digital.

From Coins to Cameras

For most of human history, financial transactions were private. You handed someone a coin. They took it. Done. No record existed. No database logged it. No third party verified it. The transaction was between two people. It began and ended with them.

This wasn’t privacy by design. It was privacy by physics. Physical objects move from one person to another without creating records.

Then, slowly, we made money digital. And digital things leave traces.

Every digital transaction creates a permanent record. When you swipe a credit card, multiple computers log it. The merchant knows what you bought. The payment processor knows when and where. Your bank knows the amount. All of it stored. For years. Sometimes forever.

Buy coffee every morning? The data shows your routine. Pay rent? The data shows where you live. Donate to a campaign? The data shows your beliefs. Purchase books? The data shows what you read. Pay for therapy? The data shows you’re seeking help.

String together thousands of transactions and you get a complete map of someone’s life. Where they live. What they believe. What they read. Who they see. Medical conditions. Political views. Everything.

Financial data isn’t just money records. It’s a map of existence. And today, multiple parties you don’t see (banks, processors, data brokers, and governments through legal process) can access and analyze that history.

Digital money is a panopticon. Every transaction watched. Every pattern analyzed. You don’t know when your behavior is being flagged. You don’t know which algorithms are scoring you. So you assume you’re always watched.

The surveillance creates the compliance.

The Financial Exclusion

Lisa Torres discovered that access can be revoked without explanation. But at least her exclusion was temporary. For others, it’s permanent.

In February 2022, Canada’s government invoked the Emergencies Act for the first time in the nation’s history. The reason: trucker protests against COVID-19 vaccine mandates. Truckers had blockaded key border crossings. The protests were largely peaceful. But the government declared them a threat to national security.

And then they did something unprecedented.

They ordered banks to freeze the accounts of anyone associated with the protests. Not just the organizers. Anyone who donated. Anyone who participated. Anyone whose name appeared on a list.

No court orders. No trials. No due process. Just a government directive, and banks complied immediately.

Tamara Lich organized the protests. She’d raised millions through crowdfunding. The accounts were frozen. She couldn’t access the money. Couldn’t pay for food. Couldn’t pay for gas. Couldn’t pay lawyers to challenge the freeze.

You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t buy groceries. This is your money. But you can’t access it.

Hundreds of others had their accounts frozen too. People who’d donated $50 to support truckers. Small business owners who’d expressed support on social media. Some had their accounts frozen just for being near the protests.

The government’s power was absolute. No money. No ability to function. Economic exile, imposed instantly through the financial system.

The protests ended. The government declared victory. In January 2024, a Federal Court ruled that the government’s invocation of the Emergencies Act was unreasonable and unconstitutional. The ruling is currently under appeal. But the precedent was set. If it can happen in Canada, democratic Canada with its Charter of Rights, it can happen anywhere.

The Digital Blockade

In 2010, WikiLeaks began publishing classified U.S. government documents. Diplomatic cables. Military reports. Information the government wanted secret. Whether this was journalism or treason became a matter of fierce debate.

The U.S. government didn’t charge WikiLeaks with a crime, at least not immediately. Instead, they made it impossible for WikiLeaks to receive money.

Visa and Mastercard stopped processing donations to WikiLeaks. PayPal froze WikiLeaks’ account. Bank of America, Western Union, and others followed. Within weeks, every major payment processor had blocked WikiLeaks.

No law required this. No court ordered it. The companies made “independent” decisions, all at the same time, all in the same direction. The timing was too perfect to be coincidence, but no proof of coordination was needed. The message from government was clear enough.

WikiLeaks’ donations dropped by 95%. They couldn’t pay hosting fees. Couldn’t pay staff. Couldn’t operate. The financial blockade nearly destroyed them.

Julian Assange later said, “We were bankrupted by the financial blockade, which lasted for years. It destroyed 95% of our revenue.”

Eventually, WikiLeaks survived by accepting Bitcoin, which couldn’t be blocked. But the lesson was taught: publish what the government doesn’t want published, and the financial system becomes a weapon against you.

No arrest. No trial. No conviction. Just exclusion. Instant. Coordinated. Devastating.

And perfectly legal.

The Social Credit System

Liu Hu is a Chinese journalist. Was a journalist. Past tense now.

In 2015, he discovered his life had been restricted. He couldn’t buy plane tickets. Couldn’t purchase high-speed rail tickets. Couldn’t get a loan. Couldn’t buy property. Couldn’t send his child to a private school.

He checked his social credit score. It had dropped below acceptable levels.

China’s social credit system monitors citizen behavior and assigns scores. Pay your bills on time: points increase. Jaywalk: points decrease. Donate to approved charities: points increase. Criticize the government online: points decrease sharply.

Low scores trigger restrictions. High scores grant privileges. The system is automated. Algorithms monitor everything. Financial transactions. Social media posts. Physical movements tracked through cameras and phones. All of it analyzed. All of it scored.

Liu Hu’s score dropped because he’d written articles critical of government officials. Not advocating violence. Not calling for revolution. Just journalism. Investigating corruption. Asking questions.

The punishment wasn’t prison. It was exclusion. Economic exile. The system made normal life impossible. And there was no appeal. No way to argue his case. The score was the score. The algorithm had decided.

He tried to rebuild his score. Followed all the rules. Avoided any criticism. Posted supportive messages about the government. Paid every bill early. Volunteered for approved causes.

His score improved slightly. Not enough. Years later, he’s still restricted. Still unable to fully participate in society. Still paying the price for journalism.

China’s system is explicit. They tell citizens they’re being monitored and scored. They publish the criteria. They make the system obvious.

But is Western surveillance really different? Or is it just less transparent?

Algorithms flag bank accounts. Credit scores determine access. The infrastructure is the same. We just call it something else.

Companies track purchases and build profiles. Governments demand transaction records through legal process. The surveillance is the same. The control is the same.

We just call it fraud prevention. Risk management. National security. The names are different. The function is identical.

What Cash Meant

There’s a reason governments have been systematically eliminating cash.

Cash transactions are anonymous. Private. Untraceable. When you pay with cash, no database logs it. No algorithm analyzes it. No third party approves it. The transaction is between two people. It begins and ends with them.

This is unacceptable to those who want control.

So cash has been slowly outlawed, stigmatized, restricted. Large cash transactions are reported to governments. Banks file Suspicious Activity Reports if you deposit or withdraw too much cash. Businesses are pressured to refuse cash. “Cashless” is marketed as modern, convenient, safe.

Sweden is nearly cashless. China is rapidly moving that direction. The European Union has proposed banning cash transactions over €10,000. The U.S. already requires reporting for cash transactions over $10,000.

Every step is justified with reasonable-sounding arguments. Fighting crime. Preventing money laundering. Stopping terrorism. Modernizing the payment system.

But the real reason is control.

Cash can’t be frozen. Cash can’t be monitored. Cash can’t be blocked. That autonomy is what’s being eliminated.

Once all money is digital, once every transaction flows through monitored channels, the panopticon is complete. Perfect surveillance. Perfect control. Every purchase tracked. Every donation monitored. Every economic action subject to approval.

And that approval can be revoked instantly. No warning. No explanation. No recourse.

Lisa Torres learned this when her account was frozen. The Canadian truckers learned it when their donations were blocked. WikiLeaks learned it when processors refused their funds. Liu Hu learned it when his social credit score dropped.

The Infrastructure of Control

The surveillance infrastructure is already built. It exists. It functions. Every day.

Banks file tens of millions of Suspicious Activity Reports each year in the United States alone. These reports go to FinCEN, the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network, a bureau of the U.S. Treasury. The criteria for “suspicious” are vague and broad. Banks err on the side of reporting too much rather than too little, because failing to report suspicious activity carries penalties.

So transactions get flagged for being too large, too small, too frequent, too irregular, to round numbers, for splitting large transactions into smaller ones, for depositing cash, for withdrawing cash, for sending money overseas, for receiving money from overseas.

Everything is potentially suspicious. Everyone is potentially monitored.

Payment processors like Visa and Mastercard control access to most digital commerce. If they refuse to process transactions for you, you’re largely excluded from the modern economy. And they’ve demonstrated willingness to exclude: WikiLeaks, adult content creators, gun sellers, cannabis businesses, and increasingly, anyone deemed controversial.

Social media platforms can identify who you associate with, what you believe, what content you consume. Banks can see where you spend money and on what. Internet service providers can monitor your browsing. Phone companies track your location. Credit bureaus compile comprehensive files on your financial behavior.

Each system alone is powerful. Combined, they create comprehensive surveillance. And that surveillance connects to financial control. The data from one system informs decisions in another. A social media post can affect your credit score. A political donation can trigger account reviews. Association with the wrong people or causes can result in exclusion.

The infrastructure exists. Right now. Today. It’s not a future threat. It’s current reality.

The only question is how it will be used.

From Monitoring to Control

For now, the consequences are selective. Most people never have their accounts frozen. Most transactions process normally. Most people live entire lives without facing financial exclusion.

But the capability exists. The infrastructure is built. The precedents are set. And the scope of “suspicious” behavior keeps expanding.

In China, the connection between monitoring and control is explicit. Low social credit scores trigger financial restrictions. Criticism of government reduces access to services.

In the West, the connection is less obvious but equally real. Wrong opinions can lead to deplatforming. Wrong associations can trigger account reviews. Wrong donations can result in exclusion from payment processors.

The infrastructure is the same. The power is the same. We just use different language to describe it.

And the infrastructure is expanding. Central Bank Digital Currencies are being developed in countries around the world. These CBDCs would give governments direct control over the money supply and direct visibility into every transaction.

With CBDCs, governments wouldn’t need banks to enforce financial restrictions. They could program money directly. Make it expire if not spent by certain dates. Restrict it from being spent on unapproved goods. Block transactions to or from specific people. The control would be absolute, instantaneous, and automated.

This isn’t speculation. These capabilities are openly discussed as features. “Fighting crime.” “Preventing tax evasion.” “Implementing monetary policy more effectively.” The justifications sound reasonable. The power they represent is absolute.

What Privacy Meant

Your security. Your autonomy. Your dignity. Your freedom to make choices without being monitored, judged, scored, and potentially punished.

Financial privacy protected all of these things. When your transactions were private, your beliefs were protected. Your associations were your own. Your choices were yours to make without worrying whether an algorithm would flag them as suspicious.

That privacy is gone. Every digital transaction is logged. Every pattern is analyzed. Every behavior is scored.

Lisa Torres had her account frozen by an algorithm. She never learned why. She never spoke to a human who made a decision. The system flagged her. The system froze her account. The system eventually unfroze it. She was powerless throughout.

This is the reality of surveillance money. You’re not dealing with people who can be reasoned with. You’re dealing with algorithms optimizing for unknown criteria. And those algorithms have power over your ability to function in society.

When money becomes surveillance, and surveillance becomes control, financial privacy stops being a luxury. It becomes a necessity. A prerequisite for freedom itself.

The Trap Closes

Lisa Torres learned that money exists by permission. The Canadian truckers learned that supporting the wrong cause means financial exile. WikiLeaks learned that corporations can exclude without legal process. Liu Hu learned that behavior and access are linked.

The pattern is clear. The infrastructure is built. The capability exists.

Digital money creates comprehensive surveillance. Surveillance enables precise control. Control can be activated instantly, without warning, without trial, without recourse.

For most of human history, money was a tool. Neutral. Available to anyone. The system didn’t care who you were or what you believed. You worked. You earned. You saved. You spent. The money functioned the same for everyone.

That world is gone.

This seems inescapable. The infrastructure is everywhere. The surveillance is complete. Opting out means exile. The trap has closed.

For decades, it seemed impossible to build an alternative. How could you create digital money that governments couldn’t control? How could you enable private transactions without trusted intermediaries? How could you make financial freedom real instead of theoretical?

The problems seemed insurmountable. The trade-offs seemed inevitable. Privacy or convenience. Freedom or security. Independence or modernity.

Most people accepted those trade-offs. Chose convenience. Chose security. Chose participation in the system.

But some people refused to accept that these were the only options.

They believed the trade-offs were false. That technology could create what politics never would. That mathematics could protect what laws wouldn’t.

They’d been working in secret. Building tools. Writing code. Failing. Learning. Trying again.

And they were about to prove that escape was possible.