By Charlotte Reid 
It is essential that people understand what they know and what they do not know, normalise talking about money at home, and cultivate well-informed scepticism.
Talking about money is always uncomfortable. It seems vulgar, almost obscene, as if love, friendship or family could exist without it. But psychologists have been reminding us for years that the opposite is true: even in the strongest relationships, money matters. It influences decisions, erodes trust, fuels illusions and becomes the last resort before contempt. Pretending it does not exist does not protect us; it only leaves us more exposed. There is also a cognitive distance that we rarely face head-on: the gap between what we really know and what we think we know. This is not an academic nuance; it is the heart of the problem. When that distance widens, people act with a confidence that is not backed up by their skills.
With this idea in mind, at Funcas we have studied these issues and what emerges is less simple than what is usually found in textbooks: not all teenagers who fail at finance do so for the same reason. There is a cognitive disadvantage—without maths or reading, a contract is a hieroglyph; a structural disadvantage, which stems from family or migrant background and lower cultural capital; and a situational disadvantage, the most common and most correctable, which consists of never talking about money at home, having no autonomy over spending, and not receiving a single hour of financial education at school. The latter is reduced when the classroom is opened and the embarrassment of talking about money is lost.
But ignorance alone is not the only danger. What is truly corrosive is cognitive distance turned into confidence: people who fail basic questions about interest rates or inflation and, at the same time, declare themselves confident that they ‘know how to manage’. Narcissists of financial noise. It is the old Dunning-Kruger effect applied to home economics: the less you know, the more confident you claim to be. And that confidence leads to mistakes: spending beyond your means, abusive loans, contracts signed without understanding them, investments that are confused with lotteries. In this breeding ground, a recognisable fauna thrives. They open the video with: ‘Did you miss Nvidia at $50? I’ll tell you the next one’; influencers who promise financial freedom in 30 days, sellers of courses that guarantee passive income while you sleep. There is no need for old loan sharks: many people hand over their savings to the volatility of cryptocurrencies, convinced that they are ‘taking advantage of a historic opportunity.’ The discourse is always the same: replace study with shortcuts, prudence with euphoria, analysis with slogans.
The irony is that not even those who know more are safe. Partial knowledge can inflate the chest. Knowing how to calculate compound interest does not immunise you against the temptation of debt; sometimes it facilitates it, because the illusion of control is more intoxicating than ignorance. In the name of ‘I understand this’, risks are taken that are not in line with savings or income stability. Cognitive distance also operates here: not between ignorance and conviction, but between technical competence and practical humility.
What, then, should financial education do? Three simple and difficult things. First, reduce the cognitive distance: let people know what they know and, above all, what they do not know. This requires honest self-assessment, concrete examples and useful friction (checklists, second signatures, budgets that do not remain in the drawer). Second, institutionalise the situational: talk about money at home and at school without embarrassment, with exercises that involve real decisions – comparing contracts, negotiating savings goals, reading the fine print. Third, train well-informed mistrust: distinguish between advice and propaganda, between serious disclosure and emotional marketing. A good financial education module today inevitably includes digital literacy so as not to fall into the trap of professional promise-makers. And there is a fourth point that is rarely mentioned: talking about money in a timely manner is a form of care. As a couple, among friends, in the family. Putting numbers on common projects does not cool affections; it makes them sustainable. Psychologists do not talk about romanticism, but the conclusions are clear: healthy relationships discuss money without drama or recriminations, with simple rules and realistic expectations. Here too, financial education is hygiene.
Financial Education Day should not call on us to recite formulas, but to review our calibration. Be wary of the epic nature of shortcuts and those who sell hunches in premium packages. Learn and remain humble.