Imagine two guys. The first drives a shiny Ferrari, wears a Brioni suit, and posts photos of oysters on Instagram. He has a mountain of debt, insomnia, and breaks into a cold sweat every time a letter from the tax office arrives. The second takes the subway in an inconspicuous logo-less hoodie, eats shawarma on the corner, and sighs during a conversation with a neighbor about how utilities have gone up again. But in his head is a seed phrase for a wallet containing hundreds of bitcoins. Which one of them is truly free? For any self-respecting agorist, the answer is obvious.
We are living in an era where the state has turned into a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex. And as we remember from “Jurassic Park,” a T-Rex’s vision is based on movement. In our reality, it is based on showing off. If you want to live freely, build your capital, and avoid attracting the attention of “comrade major,” the tax inspectorate, or simply criminal elements, you need to master the greatest art of the 21st century: being a “poor” rich person.
First and foremost, you should rent everything rather than owning it. Do you know what buying a luxury home or car in your own name is? It’s voluntarily pinning a huge target to your back that says: “I’m here! Milk me!”. It is the ideal asset for confiscation, seizure, or exorbitant taxes. Rent your housing and transport. Ideally, not even in your own name, but through trusted representatives, cooperatives, or anonymous companies, if the scale allows. You can live in a penthouse and drive a Bentley, but on paper, you are just a passerby.
It is also important to give up luxury: Rolexes, Birkin bags, Gucci belts—these are taxes on insecurity. In agorism, your clothing is camouflage. Dress neatly, but in a way that makes you impossible to remember. Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg didn’t popularize basic t-shirts for no reason. When you have no labels, people (and officials) cannot “appraise” you. You blend into the crowd.
Of course, you must not talk about your assets! Friends will start asking for loans (and get offended if you refuse). Acquaintances might accidentally blurt out about your wealth in a bar where the wrong person is sitting. Money loves silence, and crypto loves graveyard silence. To everyone, you should be that guy who “does something on the internet, seems to have enough for food.”
It would be a good idea to learn how to professionally play poor. In our society, successful people are envied, while the poor are pitied and left alone. Complain about inflation, sigh when paying a bill at a cafe, always ask for discounts and promo codes, and haggle at markets. It’s not about the 5 dollars saved—it’s about creating an alibi. When you constantly demonstrate that you are counting pennies, no one will even think that you can be “de-kulakized.”
Another tip: delete Instagram to hell, or at least stop posting photos from business class. Social networks are an open database for tax collectors and scammers. Your profile should look as if you spend your vacation at your grandmother’s cottage, not in the Maldives.
Furthermore, invest your money in things that cannot be taken away. Instead of gold chains, invest in your health (best medicine, quality but simple food, biohacking) and in knowledge. And foreign passports and residency permits (which, of course, you will tell no one about) are the best insurance, invisible to neighbors.
And finally, use cash and P2P. If you pay for everything with a named bank card, your consumption profile is visible as clear as day. Pay for daily expenses in cash wherever possible, as paper money leaves no logs.
In conclusion, it should be said that agorism is not just a philosophy of the free market, but a daily spy game. The stationary bandit wants you to be transparent, predictable, and tied to a place. But you can live in such a way that you will only smile, watching the system try to grab you by the throat, while its fingers grasp emptiness. Because for the system, you simply will not exist; you will be a ghost. A very wealthy, free, and invulnerable ghost.
