The plunging price of gold is an expression of hope by the markets

Gold is the ultimate hedge against bad stuff. If people are selling it, maybe things aren't so bad.

One of the big market stories of the day is the continued decline of precious metals. The price of gold is almost 20 per cent off its late 2012 high of $1,794 per oz, and a huge chunk of that fall has happened in the last two weeks – this morning alone, it's down 3.8 per cent and is still falling.

It's always tricky to read anything into market movements, unless they're as obvious a boom-and-bust cycle as something like Bitcoin, and that goes double for something like gold. It, and precious metals in general, have semi-unique fundamentals, because nearly all of their worth is tied up in the collective agreement that they are valuable. A bar of gold is worth money because everyone agrees it is worth money; contrast that with a barrel of oil, which can be used to make things and provide energy, or a share in a company, which might pay dividends.

But the price of gold isn't just driven by unpredictable speculation. The whole thing is wrapped up in beliefs about the nature of fiat currency, inflation, and macroeconomics. Joe Weisenthal explains:

On one hand you have established economists, who believe the government has tools at its disposal to address a crisis. These tools include deficit spending and a violent expansion of the Fed’s balance sheet.

Conversely you have critics who slam the arrogance of economists and central planners, and who have predicted that all of this economic acrobatics would result in an economic collapse, hyperinflation, and an explosion in the price of gold. Gold is important to their worldview, because it represents a quasi-money that’s not tied to any government or central bank.

Investing in gold is a rejection of government money and finance. Money flowing into gold-related assets represents a belief that rocks (however shiny they are) are a better place to invest than human endeavors (like stocks).

You can see this belief reflected in the tendency sites like ZeroHedge have towards showing things priced "in gold". So, for instance, the S&P priced in gold has been shrinking since 2000: the idea is that gold is still the only real money, and must therefore be the point from which all other observations are made. (Paul Kedrosky took this to its logical conclusion, charting the price of gold in gold)

But regardless of the reasons for the collective agreement that gold holds value, it does. And that means it has some properties as an investment vehicle. Traditionally, it's thought to be good to own in periods of high inflation and poor growth in the value of the stock market, and Paweł Morski points out what the logical conclusion of that is:

Gold – unlike bank deposits, equity or bonds, or even banknotes – is separate from the real economy: it’s what you invest in when you want to take a breather from what’s happening in the real economy. That’s actually only a sensible thing to do in pretty extreme circumstances. Gold returns are utterly crushed by equity markets in the long term – to a really astonishing degree for those economies where we have continuous equity markets.

Compared with shares in pre-revolutionary China or pre-war Poland, gold returns look pretty good. Gold is less an index of how confident we are that our leaders a) want to b) know how to do the right thing as it is an index of how sure we are that they won’t completely and utterly screw the pooch.

Also worth quoting is Morksi's absolute belter, because just look at it:

I have nothing to say about the Gold Standard other than it’s the obvious solution for those who feel the main problems with the euro are that it’s too flexible and covers too few countries.

Gold is an oddity, but the people who buy it say something very real about faith in the economic system. It may not be particularly good for hedging against downsides within that system, but as one of the few ways people can hedge against the total breakdown of order, it has a purpose. The continued slide, therefore, is a rare sign of hope in these beleaguered days. Some people, at least, think we're further from armageddon than we used to be.

Gold bars. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.