Gen Z Canadians Are Creating “Anti-Finance” Communities—No Banks Allowed

A 24-year-old named Maya is explaining to a dozen other young Canadians why she hasn’t had a checking account in fourteen months in a group chat somewhere in Toronto, most likely Discord or a private subreddit. Not because she’s incapable of opening one. since she made the decision not to. She told the group, “The bank profits off my money while I pay them fees to hold it,” in a screenshot that went viral on social media recently. “That isn’t a partnership. It’s a racket. It sounds harsh. It most likely is, to a certain extent. However, it’s important to note that Maya is not alone.

A loose but expanding group of Gen Z communities across Canada are creating what they refer to as “anti-finance” spaces. Some of these communities are organized on Reddit, others reside in TikTok comment sections, and some meet in person in community halls in cities like Vancouver and Montreal. The phrase is meant to be provocative.

These individuals are not going completely off the grid or concealing cash under mattresses. These young Canadians, who are primarily between the ages of 20 and 27, have decided, more or less consciously, that they want to have as little involvement as possible in the nation’s financial system after looking at it.

Regulators have effectively deemed Canada’s six Domestic Systemically Important Banks—RBC, TD, BMO, Scotiabank, CIBC, and National Bank—to be too vital to fail due to their deep economic ties. The federal organization that oversees bank resolutions and insures deposits, the CDIC, has comprehensive plans in place for what would happen if any of the big six failed.

These plans include bail-in mechanisms that turn long-term debt into equity instead of affecting depositors or taxpayers. By design, the system is meant to be permanent. It is long-lasting. Apparently, Gen Z is not impressed.

The irony in this situation is difficult to ignore. The youngest Canadians are quietly rebelling against the very stability that regulators created to protect them. Many young people believe that institutions become too big to trust when they grow too big to fail. The numbers, in some respects, support the perception that the system was created by and for people who are not themselves.

For most Canadians under 30, homeownership now seems unattainable due to housing costs. Student loan debt is persistent. A generation that grew up watching the 2008 financial crisis unfold on family television sets is aware that bank profits in Canada have remained historically strong.

There is no single ideology that unites the anti-finance communities. In fact, that’s what makes them intriguing. Because credit unions are member-owned and give depositors their profits back, some members are drawn to them.

Others are experimenting with peer-to-peer lending platforms, cryptocurrency wallets, or unofficial savings groups known as “tandas” or “susu”—community-based rotating credit arrangements with roots in Latin American and West African cultures that are currently making their way into urban Canadian Gen Z circles. Some are simply using cash and prepaid cards with an almost nostalgic stubborn determination.

What they have in common is more of a disposition than a financial plan. a general mistrust of organizations that have historically prospered while requesting the unconditional trust of common people. Some of this may be so idealistic as to be unfeasible; consider renting an apartment without a bank account or establishing credit without a credit card. However, even in messy situations, idealism has a way of forcing systems to change.

This is a lengthy and largely depressing historical arc. Private banking, sovereign borrowing, and the relationship between powerful financial institutions and common people date at least as far back as the 14th century in Florence, when Florentine banking families made large loans to European monarchs who occasionally just refused to pay them back. When King Edward III defaulted, the Bardi and Peruzzi families, who had funded his war ambitions, were ruined.

They were eventually superseded by the Medici. The players were altered. The game didn’t. The people at the bottom of the banking hierarchy have always found ways to get around it, discreetly, in groups, by exchanging favors and developing trust outside of official channels. Banking power has always concentrated around those who already possess wealth.

In that regard, what Gen Z is doing in Canadian community halls and Discord servers is not wholly novel. Its visibility, the speed at which it spreads, and the explicit language used by its participants to describe their actions are all novel. They’re not simply choosing not to participate. They are recruiting, organizing, and giving it a name.

It remains to be seen if any of this actually challenges Canada’s large banks’ hegemony. The assets held by RBC alone exceed the GDP of numerous nations. Currently, alternative finance appears to be a rounding error due to TD’s extensive operations throughout North America. However, movements seldom begin with institutional threats. They begin by altering people’s perceptions of them, and at least that appears to be taking place.

Even though it’s still unclear where it will go, there’s something interesting to watch here. A generation that grew up with algorithmic feeds and the unpredictability of the gig economy is looking at a financial system that was created decades ago and wondering, with sincere curiosity and a good deal of frustration, if it truly benefits them. Of course, the banks have answers.

They do it every time. The question is whether those responses—which are provided via free e-transfers, reward points, and app interfaces—are still sufficient. they aren’t for Maya in Toronto. They might not be either for an increasing number of Canadians her age.