The first transmutation we see is led by a man who believes in perfect equivalence.
The Elric brothers stand in a circle drawn on their floor, recite the principles, and attempt to bring their mother back.
The laws of alchemy are presented with the austere clarity of a physics textbook—matter in, matter out, perfect correspondence. The show spends its first episodes establishing that this works: Scar's alchemy works, state alchemists work, the engineering is sound, and the mathematics holds.
What breaks is not the equation but the assumption that a human being is equivalent to its constituent elements. The transmutation creates something that exists—something with mass and form and even memory—but it is irreducibly wrong, not because the alchemy failed technically, but because human life contains something that equivalent exchange cannot price. This distinction matters precisely because the show proves equivalent exchange works elsewhere: industrial alchemy, structural alchemy, even the creation of homunculi—the system functions flawlessly at every scale except the one Japan needed it to work.
The 1990s bubble had liquidated something that couldn't be reconstituted by any amount of economic machinery operating at perfect efficiency—jobs that vanished, lifetime employment that evaporated, security that turned out to have been an illusion priced into an unsustainable asset. You could rebuild the infrastructure, optimize the systems, and run the equation perfectly, but what you couldn't do was restore what the equation had never accounted for in the first place.
Watch Episode 3 ('The Mining Town') where Scar uses alchemy to transform a man's body, then immediately after, rewatch the failed human transmutation from Episode 1 with the sound off—notice how the visual grammar is identical, but the ontological status is inverted.
Find Takahiro Omori's directing notes from the FMA anime production (collected in the 'Complete Series Artbook'—specifically his commentary on why the human transmutation was staged without dialogue, forcing the viewer to watch the gap between what was created and what was lost).