Breaking Chains: Zachary Moore on Sports, Art, Politics, Markets, and the Battle for Humanity’s Soul
Breaking Chains: Zachary Moore on Sports, Art, Politics, Markets, and the Battle for Humanity’s Soul
By [Denver Gazette Reporter]
The first thing you notice about Zachary Moore is his intensity. It’s not a loud, chest-thumping kind of intensity, but something sharper, honed—like a blade that’s been forged in fire. Sitting in his modest kitchen table on an eight-acre ranch outside Denver, he leans forward, hands clasped, as if he’s already on the battlefield. And, in a way, he is.
At 38, Moore is leading what might be the most radical rebellion of the 21st century: dismantling the global monetary system. His Wealth Integrity Project has drawn comparisons to a spiritual awakening and an economic revolution rolled into one. It’s also ignited fierce criticism. Detractors call him a dreamer, a heretic, even a lunatic. But Moore is undeterred. For him, this is about something far greater than himself.
We sat down to discuss his journey, his critique of the world’s distractions, and his vision for a society that finally aligns with truth, reason, and justice.
DG: Zachary, let’s start with the big question. Why now? What prompted you to launch the Wealth Integrity Project?
Moore: It wasn’t a single moment. It was a slow-burning realization. I grew up dirt poor in Alabama, where the system’s failures weren’t abstractions—they were in your face. My father was institutionalized, my mother succumbed to depression, and I saw what usury and exploitation do to people who can’t escape. But the irony? I did escape. By 2022, I was making $550,000 a year in sales. I’d “made it.” But I was miserable. I realized I wasn’t free—I was just playing a different role in the same rigged game.
I wrote recently about how everything in our lives feels claimed. If you don’t pay taxes, your freedom is forfeit. If you don’t pay property taxes, your shelter is forfeit. If you don’t comply with the system, your very existence becomes forfeit. That’s not life—it’s slavery with extra steps. The entire fiat system is built on debt that can never be repaid. It’s a treadmill of growth, compliance, and exploitation that keeps us exhausted and distracted.
And at its core, it whispers to us: “You are not enough. You are not worthy. You are not free.” That’s the lie we’ve all internalized. It keeps us compliant because it makes us believe we don’t deserve better.
At this point, I found myself leaning back in my chair, grappling with what he’d just said. I’d always thought of taxes and debts as inconvenient but necessary parts of life—like bad weather or traffic. But Moore’s words reframed them as instruments of control, part of a grander design to keep us in line.
DG: Most people think taxes are necessary, though. How do you respond to that?
Moore’s expression sharpened, and his voice took on a tone that made me feel like I’d just asked the wrong question.
Moore: Necessary? That’s just a story we’ve been told. If a group of men needs to steal from its citizens to maintain justice, that’s not a government; it’s just a group of men looking for a rationalization to steal. True governance is self-governance. Virtuous men don’t need to steal, and they certainly don’t allow anyone to steal from them, no matter how nicely it’s dressed up.
The reason taxes feel “necessary” is because we’ve forgotten who we are and our responsibility to our own lives and convictions. Instead of standing firm on what we know to be true, we’ve replaced conviction with compromise. We let the thoughts and opinions of others dictate what’s acceptable, what’s normal, and what’s extreme. That’s why our government, art, sports, work, and even science feel so uninspiring today.
Moore paused for a moment, and his tone softened.
Moore: But don’t get me wrong—I’ve been inspired by these things, deeply so. Often, though, it’s not in their modern forms but through analogy or by studying historic examples. The political revolution led by Martin Luther, for instance, or the way Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings portrays the seductive power of control and the courage needed to resist it. Or Ayn Rand’s novels, which remind us of the moral and practical necessity of individual integrity.
His references intrigued me. Luther, Tolkien, Rand—they weren’t the names I expected to hear in a conversation about dismantling the financial system. Yet, as he spoke, I began to see the throughline: each of these figures or works grapples with power, corruption, and the human capacity for resistance.
DG: Those are fascinating examples. But how do you prove that the system itself—the foundation of all these problems—is fundamentally broken?
Moore: I’m glad you asked. Let me explain usury—the root of the problem. Here’s a simple exercise. Take two objects—apples, pencils, dollars, anything—and lend them to two people under the condition that each owes you double in five minutes. What happens? There aren’t enough objects in the system to fulfill the obligation. Someone has to lose. This is the nature of debt-based currency. It forces competition, ensures default, and creates winners and losers where none need exist. Usury is designed to destroy cooperation.
Now, let’s apply this to fiat money. Banks create it out of nothing when they issue loans. There’s no real value exchanged—no gold, no assets, just digits in a ledger. That violates the basic principle of contract law: consideration. Contracts require something of real value to be exchanged. Fiat currency fails that test.
I was beginning to follow his logic, but I wanted more clarity.
DG: How can you prove that no consideration was given?
Moore: You can’t prove a negative. That’s the absurdity of the system. It’s not my job—or yours—to prove the banks didn’t lend something of value. The burden of proof is on the lender to show they lent money from existing reserves that represented something real. And they can’t. That’s why so many tactics to discharge debt are foolish. They assume the legitimacy of the contract and the jurisdiction of the court. But if you realize that the accuser must prove loss and injury, you don’t have to do anything at all.
This is why I say all it takes to have your debt forgiven is to believe it is forgiven. Recognizing the fraud removes its power over you.
His words hung in the air like a challenge. Was it really that simple? Reject the lie, and you’re free? It felt almost too radical, yet the logic seemed sound.
DG: Let’s talk about your strategy. Encouraging mass debt defaults and pulling out of fiat-based investments is a bold move. Why this approach?
Moore: Debt is the lifeblood of the system. The entire fiat economy runs on a Ponzi scheme of borrowing and speculation. When people default on debt, they disrupt that flow and expose the fraud.
But it’s more than just economics. Defaulting on fraudulent debt is a moral act. It’s about rejecting lies and aligning with truth. We’re targeting over $100 million in debt defaults by March 2025. The ripple effects will cause trillions in losses across the derivative markets. It’s a way to hit the system where it hurts and free people from its grip.
By now, I was starting to see his point. The system he described wasn’t just flawed—it was fundamentally broken. And while his solution seemed extreme, it was hard to argue with his logic.
DG: Let’s end with your vision for redemption. What does a better world look like?
Moore: Redemption is reclaiming these systems for their true purpose. Sports can be about justice again. Art can inspire rather than distract. Politics can empower individuals instead of perpetuating hierarchies. Markets can reward innovation and cooperation, not exploitation.
It’s not about tearing everything down. It’s about rebuilding on a foundation of truth, justice, and freedom. And that starts with individuals—people choosing to live differently, to reject the lies and embrace the truth.
As the interview wraps up, Moore’s intensity doesn’t waver. He stands, shakes my hand, and thanks me for my time. “This fight isn’t just about economics,” he says, “it’s about who we are and who we’re meant to be.”
For a man taking on the global monetary system, he’s remarkably calm. But then again, Moore isn’t fighting for himself. He’s fighting for a world he believes we can build. And as I drive away, his words echo in my mind: What are you willing to fight for?
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