It is what people say about you in your absence that matters!

Markets as Meaning Machines

My friends can’t stop arguing about stocks like TSLA, NVDA, or other high-flyers. It’s always the same: one side swears they’re game-changers, the other calls them bubbles. Both sides dig in with this stubborn, almost religious certainty. It’s exhausting, honestly, but also kind of fascinating—this rigid mindset got me thinking, and it’s why I wrote this essay.

We’re swimming in information and money these days, and something weird happens, especially with the well-off, educated types. They’ll discuss AI chipmakers or Bitcoin halving cycles as if they’re reciting gospel, but when it comes to ethics, death, or what life’s all about, they become vague and mumbly. A Hindu buddy of mine said, “Hinduism’s a way of life.” Okay, but what’s that mean? He just shrugged. Another guy called Islam “the religion of peace.” I asked if he could name a faith that’s all about war. Crickets. These are smart people! But when it comes to NVDA or Tesla, they’re suddenly oracles, rattling off market sizes and growth curves like it’s scripture. Why the disconnect? Why so much conviction in markets but not in deeper stuff?

Conviction as Performance

It’s not just weird—it says something. Investing used to be about saving money and building wealth. Now? It’s a stage. Buying a stock isn’t just a trade; it’s a statement. Nvidia? You’re betting on the tech future. Bitcoin? You’re sticking it to the banks. Tesla? You’re all-in on Musk’s vision. These aren’t just investments—they’re like tattoos, badges of who you are, what tribe you’re in. And the louder you are, the better it feels.

But these same folks? They won’t take a stand on parenting or what makes a good life. They’ve got polished takes on earnings reports but go quiet on questions of right and wrong. It’s like they’re wearing conviction like a costume, not living it.

The Illusion of Control

This all comes from a need for control, I think. Markets, for all their ups and downs, feel like a place you can figure out. You’ve got charts, reports, Reddit threads—it’s a playground for your brain. Compare that to the big questions: love, death, morality. Those are messy, with no clear answers and no dashboards to track your progress. There’s no app for measuring your soul.

And let’s be real, the world feels like it’s coming apart sometimes. Marriage, gender—stuff that used to seem solid, like DOMA’s rules or binary categories—now it’s all fluid, from Obergefell to self-defined identities. Nothing feels fixed, not even who we are. So people grab onto markets like a lifeline, like a spreadsheet can save them from the chaos.

Conviction Without Coherence

What you get is a strong belief, sure, but it’s shaky underneath. It’s all noise, no signal. Look at guys like David Einhorn or Jim Chanos, prominent skeptics who have called Tesla the next Lehman. Sounded bold, but where was the logic holding it up? Chanos lost a ton before giving up. Were they wrong? Maybe. More like their arguments didn’t hold together. On the flip side, Tesla fans lean on memes and Musk quotes, but ask them to explain their faith beyond “stock goes up,” and they’re stuck.

Even if your bets pay off, that’s not coherence. It’s not tied to a bigger picture, a set of values. It’s just branding, not building something real.

Status Games

This is where psychology kicks in. In a world where religion and patriotism don’t bind us like they used to, markets are one of the last places to show off. Saying “I’m long MicroStrategy” in a room of investors isn’t about finance—it’s flexing your smarts, your guts. Conviction’s a status symbol, a way to seem sharp and in-the-know. Admitting you’re wrong? Forget it. It’s always “the market’s crazy,” never “I messed up.” That Keynes line—“markets can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent”—gets thrown around like a get-out-of-jail-free card.

The Quiet Alternative

Then you’ve got people like Warren Buffett. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t meme, just builds wealth like he’s stacking bricks, steady and quiet. His annual letter’s enough. He’s not the only one—there are others, some famous, some not, who hold beliefs they’ve thought through, not just borrowed. They invest carefully, talk humbly. “I don’t know” isn’t weakness; it’s their code. Their worth doesn’t ride on stock prices. They’re not performing—they’re living.

Coherence as a Life’s Framework

Conviction looks strong, grabs attention, but without coherence, it’s just noise, a shout into nothing. Coherence is different—quieter, built slowly, tying your beliefs together across time and tough spots. Most of us treat opinions like stocks: grab them quick, follow the crowd, don’t think too hard about how they fit. Ask someone why they’re bullish on a stock, and you get a slick pitch. Ask about the ethics behind their job, their parenting, how they treat people—suddenly it’s all platitudes. We’ve got models for market risks but blurry ideas about right and wrong.

Coherence isn’t about being rigid. It’s about alignment. If you value empathy, you live it, even when it’s hard. If you’re for freedom, you defend it, even for choices you don’t like. If you preach discipline, you hold yourself to it, even alone. I’ll never forget picking up my son on his first day of upper elementary. There was this charcoal eagle sketch on the wall with a line underneath: “Honesty is doing the right thing when no one is looking.” It hit me hard, still does. Have I lived up to it every time? Nope. Each slip feels like it takes something from me, so I keep trying. That’s what coherence gives you—a backbone for when life pulls you apart.

Coherence means your beliefs hold up, not like a perfect puzzle, but like a body’s skeleton: flexible, growing, but solid. Can your politics handle a real argument? Your faith, a loss? Your ethics, a temptation? It’s not about being perfect—it’s about dodging lazy contradictions, building a life where your love, work, votes, and words come from the same place. In a loud, extreme world, coherence feels boring, but it’s deep: consistency that can handle complexity.

This is just the start. In a series to come, I’ll dig into how we can actually build this kind of life, one that’s whole, not just loud.

Conclusion: Coherence Over Noise

Winston Churchill, in his 1940 eulogy for Neville Chamberlain, said, “The only guide to a man is his conscience; the only shield to his memory is the rectitude and sincerity of his actions. It is very imprudent to walk through life without this shield, because we are so often mocked by the failure of our hopes and the upsetting of our calculations; but with this shield, however the fates may play, we always march in the ranks of honor.” When loudness gets mistaken for wisdom and beliefs are judged by profits, it’s easy to think conviction equals truth. But the real test is coherence—a life where your beliefs fit together.

Conviction alone is just bravado. With coherence, it’s something else: rare, real, lasting. It shows up in your relationships, your ideas, even your portfolio. And in what people say about you when you’re not there.