The banker loans the money out of thin air to nations, businesses, groups, individuals; they borrow it giving in exchange whatever pledge of delivery or real products, and that commits them to pay back the banker an interest as well as the original amount.

Speaking of interest, let’s entertain ourselves for a moment with another facet of the greed of the suppressive: compound interest, also known as anatocism. Sort of an exponential accelerator; when the criminals gain the upper hand show this tendency to fiddling about with these cat−and−mouse tricks…
Had you never heard of it, the mechanism is as follows:

If a friend lends you a long−playing, you keep it, hopefully listen to it, even more hopefully care for it, you do so for an undefined while, then you give that very long−playing back to your friend and that is all.
If a creditor a bit less your friend and a bit venal loans you something, he wants back more: loans you ten quids, wants back eleven; interest, he calls it.
If a creditor not at all your friend and just a little more venal loans you something, he wants back much more, so he will play cat and mouse with you.
The first trick is subdividing time: the creditor tells you that time is not indefinite anymore but it is now divided into units, say, a month or a year, so now you’re going to owe him a given amount of interest for each time unit the loan lasts.
The second trick is subdividing the loan: the creditor also tells you that the loan is now subdivided in parts, say, quids or pounds or gallons, so now you’re going to owe him a given amount of interest for each part of the loan.
The third trick is combining the first two: the creditor tells you, now that both time and the loan are subdivided, you’re going to owe him a given amount of interest for each part of the loan and for each time unit that part is on loan to you.

Creditor: “Did you understand?” You: “Not much.” Creditor: “Very good. Just know that it’s for your own good.”
You think, “How could this be for my own good? Let’s see, the amount of interest is calculated on one unit of loan for one unit of time… Suppose he loans me ten quids: if after one time unit I repay him one quid, the interest I owe him for that time unit is calculated on the basis of ten quids, but the interest I owe him for the ensuing time unit shall be calculated on the basis of nine quids, and so forth. Therefore, if the total sum of all these partial interests were lower than that I’d pay in a lump sum for the whole loan and for its whole duration, and if I repayed him little by little, it could be in my own interest.
And it is now that the cat springs the mouse trap. Repay little by little? Well, the fourth trick is based on the previous three and it has to do with a sort of race between credit and debt. A fixed race.
One thing is the moment a debt is due, another thing is the moment it is repaid; between these two the debt is into arrears and a default interest is negotiated according to the balance of power in society. And that’s where the foundations for these tricks are laid: the interest on interest, known as compound interest or anatocism. Just to understand the province in which we are moving, the etymon of the word anatocism is rooted in the Greek term “tokismòs” which means “usury”.
Interest on interest, or compound interest, means an additional interest added to a previous interest, which can obviously start a cycle that repeats itself and grows into infinity. When and how exactly interest on interest can take place? Between the moment a debt is due and the moment it is repaid, indeed.
Suppose you have to repay a loan of ten quids plus ten percent interest, one quid, for one unit of time, and you don’t: now you owe eleven quids. You’d think straightforwardly that after the next unit of time you will owe those eleven quids plus one more quid for that additional unit of time. After all, the quids you have been loaned are ten, and the interest is calculated on these.

Your creditor has a different, less straightforward idea. He tells you, “Remember how interest is calculated on each unit of loan for each unit of time? Well, now you owe me eleven quids, hence the interest for the next unit of time shall be calculated on eleven quids, not ten.”
Then suppose the second unit of time passes, and by now you have to repay a loan of eleven quids plus ten percent interest, one and one tenth quids, for this second unit of time. You still don’t repay it; now you owe twelve quids point one. The creditor tells you, “The interest for the next unit of time shall be calculated on those twelve quids point one.” The third unit of time goes by and by now you have to repay a loan of twelve quids point one plus ten percent interest, one quid point twenty one, for this third unit of time.
Let’s now take a more in−depth look at the mouse trap. I previously supposed that you didn’t repay at each unit of time only to expose the basic mechanism more clearly; now let’s suppose that you did repay regularly instead. So you retort to the creditor, “But I am not into arrears! The deal was to repay the loan one payment each unit of time.” Creditor: “Oh, it’s just the compounding frequency of capitalization. Did you understand?” You: “Even less than before.” Creditor: “Jolly good! Be assured thar’s all for your own good!”
Here’s the fourth trick – the fixed race between credit and debt – at work: surreptitiously separating and moving up the moment a debt is due from the moment it is repaid, and then maximizing and exploiting this separation as much as possible. The principle of charging a penalty for late payment is fraudulently and deceitfully extended to the artificial, surreptitious, induced late payment: it is not the debtor that stumbles, it’s the creditor that pushed the debtor; and the debtor doesn’t even notice it. You get to discover there are two different units of time in use, and while you pay an instalment at every time unit of the first as agreed, that same instalment becomes due at every time unit of the second, and needless to say the second occurs well before the first. Hence, from the moment the instalment becomes due to the moment you pay it as agreed, you are an unknowing defaulter – or, at least, that’s how you’re charged. The bigger the interval between the two units of time, the more you are charged as a defaulter. And it also accrues to the capital, not the interest.

You tell the creditor, “But you loaned me ten quids, and all the rest should be interest anyway; how come that the loan itself keeps increasing?” The creditor tells you, “I hold the upper hand, hence I decided that the overdue debt becomes principal.”
And appetite grows with eating: you tell the creditor, “Except I just don’t understand how you can discern a quid of capital from a quid of interest, how come that even trying to follow your questionable and certainly not much straightforward logic the math still doesn’t quite add up for me?” The creditor answer is, “As I said, I hold the upper hand, hence I decided which is which, and guess what, I also decided that the first quids that you repay are interest so that as much of the capital as possible remains due for as long as possible.” Afraid your retort was lost here, but I would hope that you won’t find it difficult to reconstruct it – and possibly not just in a verbal form.

One could infer that one of the purposes of compound interest is to attract by deceit: at the beginning the cost of loan looks lower than it actually is as it keeps on increasing with time. If the same overall “profit” had to be earned with a so−called “linear” interest, that is, a system where the capital is not surreptitiously increased by the interest and so the interest is always applied to the original capital alone, the real cost of the loan would be apparent right away.

Another purpose is bypassing the charge of usury, as witnessed by the laws which usually differentiate between the two, punishing usury as a criminal offence and treating anatocism as a mere tort or even condoning it as legal.

And in all this the final purpose obviously remains always, as the Poet puts it, “seizing the world plus five percent”.
Incidentally, the suppressive game of seizing the victim by drowning it into surreptitious debt doesn’t change; the difference is merely its order of magnitude: plunging nations into debt with wars on one hand, plunging individuals into debt with that fixed race on the other.

Back to surreptitious debt in general, solvency is the ratio between income and outgo, simple as that: an individual, a group, an organization whose income is equal or greater than its outgo is solvent; one whose income is lesser than its outgo is insolvent. Debt money and the infinite debt trap are the cancer that if not eradicated will ensure that any individual, any group, any organization will sink into insolvency whatever they do, and sooner or later die of it, taking their last breath into the claws of moneypulators.

How to stage this swindle so as to be shellproof?