For most of the eighteenth century, no gold left the region until it had passed through it. Ore arrived as a claim — this is gold — and the claim, on its own, meant nothing. The metal was melted, tested for fineness, weighed, taxed, and only then stamped. The stamp did not say the gold was good. It said how good, in parts per thousand, on the record, signed by someone who could be found afterwards.
Business advice has never had that building.
An idea arrives as a claim — this works — and it travels on the confidence of whoever is carrying it. Nobody asks what it is made of. Nobody asks how much of it is replicated science and how much is a story that closed well in a room once. The industry that sells influence for a living has, with some irony, no chain of custody for its own ideas.