Reflections on “The Algebra of Wealth”
The biggest challenge for me in my late teens and early twenties was admitting and embracing that I care about wealth.
Chinese culture seems to take wealth as good as a given. So much so that it’s never well-elaborated upon why wealth is good – it’s just make abundantly clear more is better. The stereotypical careers all parents aspire their children could take up – law and medicine – are revered because they are high-paying jobs (or used to be). More than half of Lunar New Year greetings are wishing wealth upon someone, and the most auspicious character, best translated as “fortunate,” is more commonly understood as financial fortune than the fortune you experience in moments of hygge even though the character itself could refer to either. (Hygge being the Danish word that describes warmth and coziness and the kind of contended mood one experiences when in comfort.)
That I have parents who grew up in the trying and traumatic times of the Cultural Revolution, who subsequently worked their way out of real poverty after immigrating to Canada, didn’t help my philosophical contention with the importance of wealth. I do vaguely remember the meager days. My urge to be frugal, born out of well-instilled habit, sometimes borders on irrationality: while I never quite drove across town spending more time and gas to fill up for ten cents cheaper, I’ve definitely pushed my luck until my estimated range was 0 to get a cheaper gas station, or spent over an hour backtracking to save less than ten dollars in a different store. My relationship with money was always a conflicted one: I recognized it was oh-so-necessary, and I yearned to have “enough” of it such that I wouldn’t sweat small decisions (oh the number of social invitations I skipped out on because I didn’t want to pay a $5 cash cover), but I also felt put off by the idea of actually stating that money mattered to me… It just seemed like mindless greed, I guess?
In my tweens, I picked up a “follow your passion / do what you love” way of thinking after immersing myself in many volumes of Chicken Soup for the Soul. (Making a positive impact on the world was implied, but it definitely wasn’t as explicit then.) This more Western mindset appealed to me because it felt more authentic, more enlightened, more fulfilling of one’s own happiness. Who wants to be yoked to the endless rat race of making money, after all? The idea of pursuing something for the love of it seemed so pure and noble; it seemed so much more meaningful than just “work to make money.” (I evidently had not encountered sufficient Western culture through Chicken Soup to run into the wealth evangelism or anything on the abundance versus scarcity mindset.)
Yet I wasn’t entirely ready to shake the notion that money has value, even if I couldn’t very well articulate what that value was aside from sustaining a standard of day-to-day living. In high school I had a friend who was the very picture of optimism. She defined happy-go-lucky for me, always a smile, never a worry. She was smart but also athletic, and unsurprisingly well-liked. Having toured colleges in the US, she had her sights set on a top-ranked liberal arts college and had identified an area of study that overlapped well with her love of scuba diving. I, on the other hand, had never visited any of the college campuses of the schools I was applying to, and I was applying to universities based on prestige and international renown (meaning liberal arts colleges were off my list because they typically are unheard of outside of the US). As we were both aspiring to continue studies in the US, we frequently chit-chatted about our visions for the future. She always tried to tell me that I should follow my passion, and I would always try to reason back that at the end of four expensive years of studying, we would all need to get jobs. She’d say that “life’s not that expensive” and I would be incredulous, lost for words on where to begin to dissect how her life was very much subsidized by her parents and how much everything actually cost. I by no means had actually run any numbers - I just had this strong sense that life is actually expensive, and though it was unquantified, I was certain I was right. I was determined to take a balanced approach to my future: I wanted to find a passion that paid. So yes, while Philosophy was my favorite subject in high school, I did not want to declare a major in Philosophy – instead, I wanted something that had more definitive job prospects, because I still inherently valued having some level of financial stability and I wanted to be independent of my parents. Financial independence was the most definitive and striking form of independence I could conceive of.
What I should have paid more attention to is the most Western of all philosophies: capitalism.
“Capitalism is the most productive economic system in history, and a rapacious beast. It favors incumbents over innovators, rich over poor, capital over labor, and it allocates joy and suffering in ways often more perverse than fair. Understanding - and navigating - capitalism and investing and bless you with choice, control, and human connections void of economic anxiety. This is not a book about what should be, but what is, and it outlines best practices for succeeding in this system.”
Thus begins The Algebra of Wealth. I already wish my younger self had read this paragraph alone.
“The system may need fixing; until then, you have to stand it. Better yet, work it and develop the skills and strategies to increase the likelihood you will prosper within it…If the system suits you, play it the best you can. If it doesn’t…play the best you can. None of this is your fault. Society faces greater risks than you becoming a millionaire. And until you attain economic security, your time will not be your own and much of your stress will be unproductive.”
This is the last implication someone should have helped me connect the dot to my whole childhood. Wealth is good because “until you attain economic security, your time will not be your own and much of your stress will be unproductive.” It’s not about endlessly collecting gold coins in Scrooge McDuck’s vault. It’s about gaining control over your time – time is life, not money – and being able to choose how to spend it (hint: pursuing things you love and find meaningful).
I recently had a conversation with a 22-year-old who grew up very far from wealth, and is a rare rags-to-riches success story in that they now work in a big tech company in the Big Apple. They self-describe as a Sisyphus who needs to a rock to push. They question if their work at the big tech company is doing any real good in the world, and try to compensate for their employment there (as a cog in the engine of “evil” capitalism) by doing things like supporting local businesses, participating in environmental and social activism where possible, etc. They are considering finding a different rock to push – maybe working at a non-profit? That way they could contribute more directly to a cause they care about, really pitch in to create the change they want to see in the world.
How much this conversation reminded me of my own naive self! Before I realized that the point of money – nay, the point of wealth – is to buy options. Having options is powerful. Usually we think of “money is power” as in, you can buy your way into something (and we certainly see that over and over again in history to be true – you can buy your way into companies and governments and have your way). That is only part of the picture, because the true power was in having the options of where and how to spend that money. In 2025, there are a handful of billionaires whose names everyone knows, and they all choose to put their many excess dollars to very different use. That flexibility – that’s power.
“We’ll discuss how to build a foundation, not only of wealth but of skills, relationships, habits, and priorities that confer advantage. The concepts conveyed here have been tested and supported by science, but above all they are principles you can make your own. The last portion of the book provides a primer on the core concepts of our system of finance and markets. This is an important subject for anyone who lives and works in our system, yet it’s poorly covered in schools and glossed over in most personal finance literature.”
I loved the way Galloway framed and focused this book: on components of a foundation that confers advantage in a capitalistic economy. That last portion, the primer on finance and economic markets, I found more helpful than even the financial education I got through my MBA. When I was graduating from college, I felt intimidated by all the jargon involved with investing, a feeling made worse still by other people telling me that I’m smart and therefore I’ll figure it out when I felt like anything I read on the subject really just stirred the pot of confusion even more. I did actually pick up a few books to try to start on the right foot, but I think The Algebra of Wealth does so much better on all fronts.
“Wealth is a means to an end: economic security. Put another way, wealth is the absence of economic anxiety. Freed of the pressure to earn, we can choose how we live. Our relationships with others aren’t shadowed by the stress of money.”