The concept of an 'inflation-linked bond' is perhaps the greatest piece of linguistic theater since 'military intelligence' or 'civil servant.' It suggests a world where the state—that bloated, necrotic parasite currently devouring its own tail—has the grace to protect your purchasing power while it simultaneously torches the currency to pay for its own staggering incompetence. The recent 'thought experiment' regarding whether these assets would survive an inflationary default is like asking if a screen door would survive a submarine dive. It is an exercise in academic futility designed to keep the investor class from realizing they are being led to the abattoir by people who couldn't manage a lemonade stand, let alone a global reserve currency.

Let us look at the mechanics of this particular delusion. You buy a bond. The government promises to adjust your principal based on a Consumer Price Index (CPI)—a metric cooked up by the very same people who benefit from lying about it. It is a closed loop of fiscal gaslighting. On one side, we have the Right-leaning morons who believe we can simply deregulate our way out of the gravity of debt, as if the laws of physics are merely suggestions from the 'deep state.' On the other, we have the performative Left-leaning grifters who believe that if we just print enough 'empathy tokens' and name them 'stimulus,' the laws of supply and demand will simply stop applying out of social embarrassment. Both sides are unified in one singular, pathetic goal: spending money that does not exist to buy votes from a populace that can no longer perform basic long division.

The 'inflationary default' is not some distant, hypothetical boogeyman; it is the fundamental operating system of the modern nation-state. When a government cannot pay its debts, it does not just walk away like a common deadbeat; it destroys the value of the unit of account until the debt becomes trivial. It is a slow-motion heist. But here come the Linkers, the TIPS, the so-called 'safe assets.' The financial priesthood tells us these will save us. They are marketed as the ultimate hedge, a way to stay above the rising tide of monetary filth. But consider the reality of a default. A default is, by definition, a breach of contract. If the sovereign state decides it is no longer bound by its primary obligations, what makes any rational creature believe it will honor the 'inflation adjustment' clause? It is like trusting a serial arsonist because he’s wearing a badge that says 'Fire Safety Inspector.'

History, a subject our current crop of leaders treats with the same respect a toddler gives to a Ming vase, tells us exactly what happens next. From the debasement of the Roman denarius to the paper-mâché currency of the Weimar Republic, the story is always the same. The elites ensure their assets are portable—usually in the form of physical loot or proximity to power—while the middle class is fed 'inflation-linked' promissory notes that eventually serve better as insulation for their cardboard shacks than as capital. The current 'thought experiment' is a symptom of a society that has run out of real ideas and has turned instead to the refinement of its own exit strategies. We are no longer building anything; we are just arguing over who gets the best seat on the Hindenburg.

The irony is that the people debating the survival of these bonds are the very ones who facilitate the collapse. They are the analysts, the fund managers, and the 'non-journalists' who treat the global economy like a game of high-stakes Tetris. They ignore the rotting foundation because they are too busy admiring the view from the penthouse. They believe that as long as the math works on paper, the social fabric will hold. They forget that when people can no longer afford bread, they do not look at bond yields for comfort; they look for something heavy to throw at the nearest person in a tailored suit. They are intellectually superior in the same way a man jumping off a cliff is 'flying'—until the ground provides a very sudden, very terminal peer review.

In the end, the search for a 'safe asset' in a collapsing system is a fool’s errand. It assumes there is a corner of the casino where the house isn’t cheating. Whether it is an inflationary default or a hard default, the result for the holder of 'safe' paper is the same: you have been robbed, and you were polite enough to provide the pen for the signature. These bonds are not a lifeboat; they are a gold-plated anchor. And as the ship goes down, the last thing you will see is a politician from either side of the aisle telling you that the water is actually quite refreshing, while they row away in the only functional dinghy—which, of course, was bought with your tax dollars. The 'experiment' isn't about the bonds; it's about how much more the public can be fleeced before they notice the shears are drawing blood.