#04: “Why are banks sooo powerful, Great G?”

‘Woahh,’ Cheeky C turns her face to Great G, her eyes wide open. ‘What is that?’

They walk through Toronto downtown without a destination, hoping that they see something that will trigger Cheeky C’s memory. Who she is. Where she is from. She couldn’t even recall her name. Her heart starts to beat faster again, her breath becomes short. The shock of her identity loss and the inevitable feeling of being lost keeps her in its fierce grip.

Trying to hide that from her elderly companion, Cheeky C points towards a giant tower of bronze-colored glass and dark grey metal, rising into the sky before them. Thousands of rectangles stacked together to form a fractured mirror for the clouded sky and the other skyscrapers around them, with their glassy and metallic surface hard as nails. They just came up the stairs from the subway stop Union Station which is located in the grey cold heart of the city – a heart that seems to be stabbed to death by the countless other sky-high stakes of glass and metal that come out of the concrete that seals the ground. Cheeky C jumps back as a big car rushes past them on the broad grey street next to them, honking angrily.

How hostile, she thought. The opposite of the cozy living room with the couch and warm chocolate and cinnamon tea in Great G’s small suburban house. In the night, lit up by candles on the sills and tables, during the day flooded with light through the big windows in each of the four walls. But here in Downtown, everything feels rushed. She didn’t notice how tense her body became, as if there was a threat and she had to run away the next moment. It is hard for her to shake off this tension as an automatic reaction to the external stress she is exposed to.

‘Oh, that?’ Great G looks up, a lot less impressed. ‘That is a bank. Look, there is their name on the glass front, in big white letters on blue ground, below the contours of a yellow lion. It’s the Royal Bank.’

‘A bank?’ Somewhere deep in her mind, Cheeky C knows about banks. They give you money from your bank account if you need it, given you have enough money to put it there. She can also vaguely recall the concept of credits: money for those who have not enough in their bank account but need some to continue their daily life and business, so they get it from the bank but have to pay it back later. She realizes she never thought about banks before; banks have appeared to be such a natural part of her life. Wherever and however she has lived it – her memory stops here.

‘Why is the building of the bank sooo big?’

‘Because they have so much money in them, they need enough space to store it. So, the more money a bank can pile up, the bigger its building gets.’ Great G’s face is deadly serious.

‘You are joking.’

‘Of course I am. Okay, okay, you get a serious answer. The building size symbolically showcases the power banks have in our lives, politics, and the economy.[1] In basically everything. The moment you see it, you bow down in awe and admiration.’

‘We didn’t bow…’

‘Internally.’ Great G turns to Cheeky C and smiles warmly. ‘And maybe you didn’t bow because you have the rare gift of curiosity and questioning everything.’

Cheeky C smiles back – cheekily. ‘Then let me ask you another question. Why are banks sooo powerful?’

‘Good one… It’s because they can create money. So they create the very thing we all need. No, you might ask yourself, how do they create money? And do they have any constraints in doing that? And where do the problems and injustices start? Longer story… Let us walk to a nice spot where we can talk and sit.’

The building size symbolically showcases the power banks have in our lives, politics, and the economy.

As always, we follow them as invisible observers. They walk down Bay Street, the feet of Great G almost automatically following the narrow pavement down to Harbourfront, a promenade made out of grey concrete at the shores of Lake Ontario.

So many memories…, the elderly woman thinks, her heart heavy. So many years have passed since she arrived here for the first time, being a 21-year-old student with the best grades but knowing nothing about life and people… How painfully sudden that change was after her arrival and the start of her own, first journey through life and politics… And now she is on her second. This time, not alone.

She looks over to her young companion. Cheeky C just spotted two other dominant Canadian financial institutions. Not that hard – overlooking their buildings would be like overlooking the movie screen in a cinema. Too big to fail. ‘Look! CIBC… What’s that? And Scotiabank Arena… Must be a bank as well!’ She turns around, her two honey-brown braids flying. ‘Great G! It feels like they occupied the whole city! Is that normal?’

Great G stares at her, barely unable to hide her surprise. The small girl next to her just said the exact same thing she thought over 50 years ago when she arrived as a student for her semester abroad in Toronto… She must be exceptionally intelligent for her age. The weak winter sun that came out a few minutes ago shines on her pale freckles. Great G didn’t notice them in the dark night yesterday.

‘No, my dear’, she replied, ‘that’s as normal as pineapple pizza.’ Cheeky C looks as confused as someone could look who doesn’t know about that ever-lasting debate. ‘Or as normal as people who crave Poutine. I will make you try,’ Great G adds with a smile, ‘…after we tried Beaver Tails.’ A small wooden house appears in front of them, just a few steps away from the dark water of Lake Ontario, with small boats sleeping on the lake’s calm surface. ‘Beaver Tails’ is written in curved white letters on red walls and rooftop, luring visitors with the national colors of Canada. It is around noon and just a few other people walk across the promenade, mainly tourists.

‘So, why are banks so powerful?’, restarts Great G the conversation, after they both sat down on the concrete steps that lead down to the water, holding flat, deep-fried, crispy buns rolled in sugar in their hands. ‘When you understand that, you understand global capitalism and the major problems we face. And key levers for change for the better. If I convinced you with the teaser and you want to buy the ticket for my drama, with some Beaver Tails as snacks – well, you can only do that because we have banks. Banks are so powerful because they create money. To understand the power of banks, you need to understand the power money has in our world.’

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Sources:

[1] See: McGoun, Elton G. 2004. “Form, function, and finance: architecture and finance theory.” Critical Perspectives on Accounting, 15(8), 1085-1107.