The Bank that Devours Central Banks

An Insider’s Look at the Vaulted Secrets of the Bank for International Settlements

For centuries, tales of shadowy cabals pulling the strings of global affairs have titillated the imagination of the people—narratives peppered with a mix of half-truths, rumors, and outright fabrications. Yet, amidst this tapestry of conspiracy lore, one institution stands out not for its secrecy, but for its audacious visibility: the Bank for International Settlements (BIS).

This so-called “central bank for central banks” operates under the guise of promoting global monetary stability, but let's not be naive. The BIS is the epitome of the elite's control over the world's economic levers, masquerading as a benign entity, housed in an incredibly ugly architectural sin.

It's not hidden in some dark, clandestine chamber; oh no, it's right there in Basel, Switzerland, in plain sight, where the world's financial elite can meet in 'secrecy'—a term that's laughable when you consider the open doors of the BIS to those who matter in the corridors of power. The BIS, by coordinating monetary policies, essentially dictates the economic fate of billions, yet it remains unaccountable to any democratic process. The claim that this organization could be a force for good is a farce.

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The world's most elite cabal, with its eighteen members, assembles bi-monthly on a Sunday evening at 7 p.m. in the ominously named Conference Room E, housed within a circular tower whose darkened windows peer down upon Basel's central railway station. Their discourse persists for a mere hour, or perhaps ninety minutes, though the real machinations occur post-meeting. Some members dare bring colleagues, but these aides are mere spectators in this theater of power, seldom uttering a word during this most secretive of gatherings.

Once the formalities conclude, the aides exit, leaving the true puppeteers to ascend to the 18th floor for a dinner that's nothing short of a culinary and vinicultural spectacle. Here, in this sanctum of fine dining, where the protocol and hospitality have been perfected over eight decades, the real business is conducted under the guise of gourmet indulgence. The conversation at this table, it's understood, is sacred—sealed within these walls, never to be whispered beyond.

These individuals, savoring their haute cuisine and grand cru vintages—some of Switzerland's finest offerings—would scarcely be recognized by the public below. Yet, they are among the globe's most influential figures, predominantly men, who govern the financial destinies of nations. They converge in Basel not for mere fellowship but under the auspices of the Economic Consultative Committee (ECC) of the Bank for International Settlements.

Among those who gather in this secretive conclave in Basel are Jerome H. Powell, who steers the economic fate of the United States as Chair of the Federal Reserve; Andrew Bailey, navigating the financial waters for the United Kingdom from the Bank of England; Christine Lagarde, orchestrating the monetary cacophony of Europe as President of the European Central Bank; and Yi Gang, holding the reins of China's financial might at the People's Bank of China.

Joining them are Joachim Nagel from Germany's Bundesbank, François Villeroy de Galhau of the Bank of France, Ignazio Visco from Italy's central bank, Stefan Ingves representing Sweden, Tiff Macklem from Canada, Shaktikanta Das from India, and Roberto Campos Neto from Brazil. Together, alongside Agustín Guillermo Carstens, the BIS's General Manager, they form a circle of influence where economic policies are shaped under the guise of promoting global stability, but in reality, they dictate the economic destinies of billions with the finesse of a well-served vintage wine.

At the stroke of 9:30 a.m. on a crisp Monday morning, the air in Room B thickens with the presence of power as Agustín Guillermo Carstens, that fat Mexican emblem of a central banker, commands the assembly of central bank governors from the thirty nations deemed most critical to the global financial tapestry. Here, alongside the elite who savored the previous night's confidential dinner, representatives from Indonesia, Poland, South Africa, Spain, and Turkey add their voices to the chorus.

Observers from fifteen less heralded countries—Hungary, Israel, New Zealand among them—are granted silent attendance, their words locked behind their observant gazes. Meanwhile, the third-tier members from Macedonia and Slovakia are left to scavenge for tidbits of information during coffee breaks or over lunch, excluded from the main discourse.

As noon approaches, all sixty governors from the BIS member banks ascend to the eighteenth floor, where the dining room, crafted by the visionaries at Herzog & de Meuron—architects of Beijing's “Bird's Nest”—awaits. With its stark white walls contrasting a black ceiling, this room offers not just culinary delights but panoramic vistas over three nations: Switzerland, France, and Germany. After indulging in the buffet, at precisely 2 p.m., they reconvene in Room B, their discussions on economic matters stretching until the clock strikes five.