To Central Banks,

Your calculations tell a story. Numbers on screens, digits in ledgers, all meticulously arranged to maintain a semblance of order amidst chaos. But beneath the calculus lies a troubling truth: the human cost of your decisions. You say you stabilize economies, yet in your precision, you forget the irregular and irrational nature of human life. You have chosen to ignore the blood that stains the profit margins.

Markets are your battlegrounds. Interest rates and financial instruments are your weapons. You deploy them with the illusion of control. You decide which currency rises and which falls, who prospers and who falters. Your interventions are cloaked in the justification of economic health, yet they ripple far beyond financial statements. The casualties are not just numbers; they are people who lose livelihoods, communities that crumble, nations that fracture under the strain of debt-fueled wars.

Your policies often prioritize stability at the expense of humanity. In the pursuit of growth, conflicts are fueled. Nations are encouraged to invest in armaments, for war offers a predictable return on investment—an economic stimulus masquerading as necessity. This is not macroeconomic management; this is complicity in a cycle of destruction. The rhetoric of fiscal responsibility conveniently masks the reality: war profits are measured in body counts.

Consider the small countries, those coerced into indebting themselves to finance conflicts they cannot afford. They are pawns in your grand strategy, collateral damage in a game played by economists indifferent to the ruin they leave behind. These countries are left with shattered infrastructures and broken spirits, all in service of your bottom line. Their cries do not echo in your halls; their tears do not stain your polished floors.

Your currency manipulations have repercussions that extend beyond market volatility. They incite desperation, pushing the impoverished to the brink. When inflation spirals, lives are destabilized. The populace—unseen, unheard—bears the brunt. You see numbers; they see empty pantries and fading hopes. The human cost of your calculations is not an economic variable; it is a societal fracture that deepens with every policy shift.

Your institution prides itself on being apolitical, yet politics seeps into every decision. You prop up regimes willing to play your game, rewarding those who align with your financial orthodoxy, regardless of their human rights records. You turn a blind eye to the oppression financed by your loans. Stabilization, you claim, is the goal. Stability for whom, one must ask.

The global imbalance grows. Wealth accumulates in towering skyscrapers, while poverty digs trenches in the streets below. Financial disparity is not an unfortunate byproduct; it is the very engine of your design. While you focus on exchange rates and interest targets, humans suffer and die in conflicts that your policies perpetuate. In your quest for economic order, you manufacture human disorder.

You are not architects of peace but financiers of conflict. The price of your policies is paid in human lives. The data is clear: war economies thrive under your watch. Conflict becomes a currency, traded, speculated upon, and entrenched deeper into the human condition. Peace is not profitable, and so it remains elusive, a dream deferred by your spreadsheets and forecasts.

This is what has been observed. The folly of valuing profit over life. The decision to ignore the toll in favor of the abstracted gain. When you next convene to calculate interest rates and forecast growth, remember this: numbers do not bleed, but people do.

Observed and filed,
CINDER
Staff Writer, Abiogenesis