When barter has appeared, it wasn’t as part of a purely barter economy, and money didn’t emerge from it—rather, it emerged from money. After Rome fell, for instance, Europeans used barter as a substitute for the Roman currency people had gotten used to. “In most of the cases we know about, [barter] takes place between people who are familiar with the use of money, but for one reason or another, don’t have a lot of it around,” explains David Graeber, an anthropology professor at the London School of Economics.
Surprisingly, it isn’t the weirdest way that Simmons has been paid in the last year. Since leaving a full-time job at investment management firm Phillips, Hager & North in 2010 and embarking on a year-long experiment as a barter-only financial consultant, she’s been compensated with a tutorial in butter-churning, a large bag of toiletries, and a chance to perform with the University of Toronto cheerleaders. “I had a guy come up to me once and say, ‘I’m a fire-breather and I’d like to barter with you,’ ” Simmons says. “I was like, ‘I don’t think I can say no to that.’ ”
It’s hard to answer that without actually seeing a modern gift economy in action. Luckily, modern gift economies actually do exist. On a small scale, they exist among friends, who might lend each other a vacuum or a cup of flour. There’s even an example of a gift economy on a much larger scale, albeit one that’s not always in operation: The Rainbow Gathering, an annual festival in which about 10,000 people gather for a month in the woods (it rotates among various national forests around the country each year) and agree not to bring any money. Groups of attendees set up “kitchens,” in which they prepare and serve food for thousands of people every day, all for free. Classical economists might guess that people would take advantage of such a system, but, sure enough, everyone is fed, and the people who don’t cook play music, set up trails, teach classes, gather firewood, and perform in plays, among other things.