The Amygdala's Yacht: Billionaires, and Why Hoarding Is a Trauma Response
- Elizabeth Halligan

- Sep 5, 2025
- 3 min read

We live inside a shared hallucination, a mental model so convincing we call it the economy. Within this delusion, we have created demigods. The billionaires. And we bow to them as if their hoarded numbers in a database are proof of divine genius. As if we did not create them ourselves out of blindness and obsequiousness. But this is not evidence of genius.This extreme accumulation of wealth is not about power or ingenuity. It is a primal response rooted in fear. It is the amygdala's last stand against the mortal terror of scarcity.
Beneath the veneer of prestige and polished interviews lies a more primitive reality: an unprocessed trauma loop. The billionaire brain is still operating in survival mode, an ancient, reptilian fear center stuck in a glitching scarcity cycle. On a fundamental level, no one needs that much money. And no one gets that much money without taking far more from the collective than they give.
So, what does it mean to hoard what can’t even be spent?
It means the body still believes it is starving. The fear of death has not been metabolized, only sedated by numbers. The nervous system clings to the illusion that more equals safe, but the formula is absolutely broken, because more is never enough. The wealth is not a source of true security. It is a shield against a story the body still believes, and that story is:
“If I don’t have more and more, I will die.”
The scarcity loop is the final boss of capitalism. Beyond approximately $10M, money stops being a utility and becomes a mirror for unresolved fear. The hoard becomes a moat. The mansion becomes a bunker. The threat is long gone, but the amygdala, stuck in time, is still running an ancestral script. The methods look modern and sophisticated, but algorithm is ancient, primitive, and self-destructive.
Philanthropy as a Tax Shelter for the Soul
Billionaires and their defenders often point to their charitable giving as a justification for their immense wealth. However, modern philanthropy is frequently nothing more than theater. Nonprofits are often inefficient by design, absorbing vast funds into overhead, salaries, and self-perpetuating structures that rarely touch the ground where people are actually hurting. Worse, many foundations hold stock in or prop up the very corporations that create the systemic suffering they are supposedly trying to mitigate. This setup is a performance of mitigating harm while perpetuating it. If charity truly worked, we would not need over $500 billion a year to keep patching holes in a system designed to bleed.
Real community care does not come with a plaque or a press release. It is quiet, and its goal is not to be a savior, but to make saviors obsolete. Real mutual care is building a world in which people don’t need to rely on charitable giving to survive. Creating and maintaining scarcity is just another form of slavery, just more insidious.
This Isn’t About Envy, it’s About Evolution
When the grotesque imbalance of billionaire wealth is challenged, the defenders of the hoard crawl out of the woodwork. They will say, “They earned it!” as if extracting wealth through monopolies, underpaid labor, and planetary exploitation counts as “earning.” They will say, “They deserve it!” as if deserve is anything more than a story we invented to justify systemic inequality. And when they can’t win the logic game, they will default to “You’re just jealous!” But there is nothing to envy about a trauma loop wearing a Rolex that is only worth $15,000 inside an amygdala-dominated brain. This response is not driven by jealousy. It is driven by a trauma-informed awareness that sees the world’s patterns clearly, and sees them as unsustainable illusions.
The final fallback is, “But they donate!” as though philanthropy justifies plunder, or somehow replaces simply paying taxes like the rest of us. Real giving doesn’t come with a tax break and a press release. It comes from healing, not from hiding and hoarding.
This is not a condemnation of individuals. Billionaires are not all conscious villains, but they are symptoms. They are what happens when a species worships accumulation instead of integration. The solution is not to simply turn them into martyrs, but to rewire the nervous system itself. A post-trauma civilization does not hoard. It heals. It shares. It creates systems where no one needs a billion dollars to feel safe because safety isn’t a commodity to be hoarded.
In the end, billionaires are a reflection of a collective nervous system stuck in a scarcity glitch. We don’t need more philanthropy. We need a global nervous system reset. Scarcity is a scam, and hoarding is an evolutionary glitch. It’s time to wake up.




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