- Markets aren’t just about numbers anymore. They’ve become mirrors of our cultural confusion and generational disillusionment.
- Demetri Kofinas explores how the collapse of shared stories is showing up first in markets, but signals a deeper societal breakdown.
- When belief in institutions fades, we’re left with chaos, or the chance to write a new story that actually holds meaning.
In the spring of 2021, the well-known car rental company Hertz had just declared bankruptcy. Its financial statements were a disaster, and creditors were circling. Any rational investor would steer clear, yet, the stock soared. Individual traders piled in, posting rocket emojis on Reddit and sharing screenshots of their gains. The headlines wrote themselves: “Retail investors are back.” “Wall Street is dead.” “Markets are broken.”
To some observers, it was something else: a crack in the foundation, a sign that something deeper was unraveling. One name for this shift is financial nihilism, the idea that investors no longer care about fundamentals, or even pretend to. That moment didn’t fit any historical playbook. It marked uncharted psychological terrain.
But the argument is broader than investing. The breakdown we’re witnessing may reflect a collapse of collective meaning, a fading of the narratives we once used to make sense of the world. And markets are simply where it shows up first.
The Disconnect
For most of financial history, markets existed to allocate capital. Investors evaluated companies based on earnings, growth prospects, and the risk of loss. Prices, though never perfect, reflected some underlying reality.
Today, that connection feels frayed. Crypto tokens with no revenue or product trade at sky-high valuations. Meme stocks like GameStop or AMC spike and crash on waves of coordinated enthusiasm. Even traditional assets seem increasingly driven by sentiment and liquidity, rather than fundamentals. The shift represents more than speculation. It marks a psychological break. Many investors no longer view stocks as ownership in companies, but as gambling tokens. Markets, in this view, have started to resemble casinos, with equities functioning more like chips than slices of real businesses.
This financial nihilism reflects a worldview where assets are inherently meaningless, where prices are driven by belief alone. It’s not just that value and price are disconnected, it’s that people know they’re disconnected and don’t care. That kind of detachment doesn’t come from nowhere.
A Generation Disillusioned
Every generation inherits a system. Some challenge it, others embrace it. But Millennials and Gen Z might be something different: rejecting it entirely.
They grew up in the shadows of financial crisis and endless war, and they watched their parents lose homes while banks were bailed out. They graduated into recessions, loaded with debt, priced out of housing. They saw Congress bicker while the climate worsened and wealth consolidated. Many have never truly seen a functioning political system, only gridlock and cynicism. Trust in media, government, corporations, and finance has plummeted. Why believe in the old stories when none of them seemed to protect you? Is it any wonder they’re skeptical?
In that context, crypto was more of a protest than a get-rich-quick trade. So was the GameStop saga. A generation left behind by traditional systems used the tools of the market — Robinhood apps, Reddit threads, viral memes — to push back, pool their money, and make their own game. There’s something strangely optimistic about that because, if the system is seen as rigged, why not invent a new one? Why not believe in something else, even if it’s absurd?
But that optimism has a dark side. When you no longer believe in institutions, stories become weapons. When every story competes for attention, the loudest wins.
The Collapse of Common Stories
Humans are meaning-making machines. We rely on shared narratives to navigate the world: money, morality, and who we are. Those stories once lived in religion, in national identity, in political ideals. Over time, many of them faded or fractured, and globalization eroded local community ties. Institutions lost credibility and the internet flooded us with infinite narratives, none of which seemed more true than the others.
As media entrepreneur and founder of the Hidden Forces podcast Demetri Kofinas recently put it, “The myths we’ve told ourselves about ourselves have broken down.”
When shared stories collapse, disunity follows. That’s why the breakdown in markets mirrors the broader breakdown in society. There’s no consensus on what’s true, what’s valuable, or what future we’re building toward. Without shared narratives, collective action becomes nearly impossible. The systems that once helped us agree on reality, including institutions, media, community, no longer hold sway.
Markets are often called voting machines in the short run and weighing machines in the long run. But if nobody trusts the scales, if truth is negotiable, the whole mechanism starts to wobble.
A Crisis of Belief
The historian Neil Howe describes moments like these as Fourth Turnings: periods of crisis that shatter old orders and make way for something new. They come every 80 to 100 years, usually marked by war, economic upheaval, or cultural fracture.
Some thinkers see us in one now. Transformation, they argue, only occurs after a great trial. Crisis is the crucible of change. In the view of those who study societal cycles, the United States has been avoiding that reckoning for decades. Rather than face the hard questions about inequality, debt, and governance, we’ve deferred them. We've propped up the system with easy money and cheap stories, but eventually, reality asserts itself.
“The only way to address that nihilism is to develop new stories and new myths,” Kofinas says.
That’s not easy. It requires leadership, courage, and imagination. It also requires reckoning with uncomfortable truths.
Why It Matters
The breakdown of belief has practical consequences. If people treat markets like a joke, capital misallocates. If young investors expect bailouts and meme rallies, risk goes unpriced. If institutions lose legitimacy, volatility rises, not just in asset prices, but in society itself. And if nothing matters, anything goes. That’s the danger of nihilism. Not just that it’s wrong, but that it invites chaos and tempts people to burn things down.
But there’s another path. Even the collapse of belief creates space and a vacuum can be filled. New narratives can emerge out of crisis: more honest, resilient, and grounded in shared values. The question is whether we’ll rise to meet the moment or retreat further into fragmentation.
The Key Takeaway
Markets are more than just math, they’re stories. They reflect how we feel about the future, about each other, about ourselves. When belief falters, prices behave strangely, but the strangeness is a signal. It tells us something is broken, not just in finance, but in the foundations of trust.
Howard Marks once said, “You can't predict. You can prepare.” The same is true for this moment. We don’t know precisely what the next system will look like, but we can pay attention to the fractures and notice when prices no longer reflect purpose. We can ask: What stories still hold up? What do we want to believe in next?
This is based on an episode of Top Traders Unplugged, a bi-weekly podcast with the most interesting and experienced investors, economists, traders and thought leaders in the world. Sign up for our Newsletter or subscribe on your preferred podcast platform so that you don't miss out on future episodes.