Money is a battery for storing the energies produced by human work. It’s a transformer, too, changing human work into stuff. When the potter trades pottery for the farmer’s grain, it is a device for equalizing any difference in the relative values for the goods generated by the work. In itself, it has no value, only carries the energies of things that do have real value: the affirmation and confirmation of the worker’s worth.
Money and the energy it holds can be very useful stuff.
Accumulation of lots of money allows for acquisition of very high-energy (expensive) stuff like roads and market-places and the other infrastructure and developing technologies that helps the potter and the farmer get their goods out into the world so they can feed and clothe their families and get adequate education for their kids.
That’s, of course, why taxes: Governments–central authorities–pool the smaller amounts to a large lake of an amount to accomplish things for the benefit of the larger community. Those who share in the benefits from such accomplishments, ideally, have shared in the expenses which, if you think about it, is fair.
Money comes out of a community. It is produced by a community and stored in specially-designed containers like banks. And banks are like flower pots: Money can be invested and it can grow outward from the banks like a wild vine, out into the world, join up with other vines and become global. But the basis of all money-generation is the worker and the community. So–it seems reasonable that a certain proportion of it should, even must go back into the community, to keep the energy flowing. Think of feeding the goose that lays that gold egg.
If someone diligently collects all the golden eggs but feeds the goose on the cheapest fare, or as little as possible, or simply lets it wander around eating what it can find, and takes no care of the goose to keep it strong and healthy, that is… well, stupid.
Just sayin’ .