The end of El Salvador's bitcoin payments experiment

Back in 2021, El Salvador became the first country in the world to require its citizens to use bitcoin for payments. Last month, four years later, it notched another record: it became the first country to rescind bitcoin's status as required tender. This backtracking was the result of the IMF's threat to pull billions of dollars in assistance if El Salvador didn't put an end to bitcoin's special status.

What have we learnt from El Salvador's four-year bitcoin experiment? I would suggest that it definitively proved that bitcoin is not destined to be money. As far as making payments goes, bitcoin will always be an unpopular option, even when the government gives it a helping hand. And don't blame the IMF for this; bitcoin sputtered-out long before the IMF pressured El Salvador to drop it, as I'll show.

The original motivation behind El Salvador's Bitcoin Law was to harness bitcoin as a means for reaching the unbanked, those without bank accounts, who in El Salvador make up the majority. Cash is still by far the dominant payments choice in El Salvador, but it was believed that an electronic form of cash might complement that. Another goal was to make remittances cheaper by sponsoring a new bitcoin remittance route—few countries are as dependent on remittances from family living overseas as El Salvador. 

President Nayib Bukele made the announcement at a major bitcoin event and El Salvador’s Congress ratified the Bitcoin Law a few days later. Bitcoiners literally cried for joy. For longtime Bitcoin watchers like me, it seemed like an awful idea. But at least it was going to be a fantastic natural experiment.

Satoshi Nakamoto, bitcoin's founder, saw bitcoin as electronic cash, but his dream generally hasn't come to fruition. In practice, 99% of bitcoin adoption is about gambling on its volatile price, with payments being a niche 1% edge case. Bitcoin disciples who continue to believe in Satoshi's electronic cash dream often blame what they see as government meddling for the failure of bitcoin to gain widespread usage as a payments medium. For instance, they say that capital gains taxes on bitcoin makes it a hassle to pay with the orange coin, since it leads to a ton of paper work anytime one buys something with bitcoin. Or they criticize legal tender laws that privilege fiat currency. 

But here was a government that was going to champion the stuff, nullifying all of the headwinds against bitcoin in one stroke! The government meddling hypothesis would be put to test.

The Salvadoran government used a combination of sticks and carrots to kick-start adoption. First, let's list the carrots. The capital gains tax on bitcoin was set to zero to remove the hassle of buying stuff with bitcoin. The government also built a bitcoin payments app, Chivo, for all El Salvadoreans to use. (Chivo also supports U.S. dollar payments.) Anyone who downloaded Chivo and transacted with bitcoin would receive a $30 bitcoin bonus—that's a lot of money in El Salvador. Gas stations offered $0.20 off of a gallon of gas for customers who paid with the app. People could also use Chivo to pay their taxes with bitcoin.

The biggest carrot was zero-transaction fees. Any payment conducted with Chivo was free, as was converting bitcoins held in the Chivo app into U.S. dollars and withdrawing cash at Chivo ATMs. These Chivo ATMs were rolled out across El Salvador and in the U.S., too, to encourage the nascent U.S.-to-El Salvador bitcoin remittance route. Bitcoin ATMs are usually incredibly pricey to use, but in El Salvador the government would eat all the transaction fees. What a fantastic deal.

As for the stick, Bukele introduced a forced-tender rule. Beginning in 2021, businesses were required to accept the orange coin or be punished. This was costly for them to comply with. They would have to update point of sale software, signage, train employees, and set up new processes for handling bitcoins post-sale.

By all rights, this combination of sticks and carrots should have led to a flourishing of bitcoin payments. But it didn't.

The evidence of failure

The first incrimination of the experiment is Figure 1, below. In the Bitcoin Law's initial months, remittances carried out by cryptocurrency wallets exploded, accounting for an impressive 4.5% of all incoming remittances to El Salvador. Not bad! People were actually using the Chivo app to send bitcoins to relatives back home. 

Figure 1: Data from El Salvador's central bank shows that cryptocurrency remittances from wallets like Chivo have steadily shrunk over time from 4.5% of all remittances to 0.87% of all remittances in 2024.

But instead of continuing to gain market share, crypto-linked remittances steadily deteriorated over the next four years to 0.87% of the total by December 2024—hardly a sign of success.

The data for this chart comes from the Banco Central De Reserva (BCR), El Salvador's central bank. The BCR is coy on how precisely it collects this data, but it is almost certainly dominated by Chivo-related transactions. (My note at the bottom explores the data more.)

The second indictment of El Salvador's bitcoin effort comes from survey data compiled by economists Alvarez, Argente, and Van Patten in their 2022 paper, Are Cryptocurrencies Currencies? Bitcoin as Legal Tender in El Salvador. The authors carried out a survey of 1,800 Salvadoran households to get insights into their use of the Chivo Wallet. This wasn't a lazy online survey, but an in-person survey.

The survey found that just over half of Salvadoran adults had downloaded Chivo, which is impressive (see Figure 2, below). Most hardly used it, though. While over 20% of the population continued to interact with Chivo after spending their $30 bitcoin bonus—which isn't a bad adoption rate for an app—the majority of Chivo usage was only occasional, the median Chivo user reporting no bitcoin payments sent or received in any given month, and just one payment per month in U.S. dollars. Payments tools like apps and cards are supposed to be used a few times each week; not once every two or three months.

Figure 2: While awareness of Chivo was high, most Salvadorans did not use Chivo's bitcoin functionality after receiving their $30 bitcoin bonus. Source: Are Cryptocurrencies Currencies? Bitcoin as Legal Tender in El Salvador [link]

The dominance of the app's dollar functionality over its bitcoin functionality also stands out. Chivo was supposed to be a bitcoin payments app, after all, not another version of PayPal of Venmo. For instance, the survey found that of all households who had downloaded Chivo, only 3% had ever received a bitcoin remittance via Chivo, while 8% had received a U.S. dollar remittance via the app (see Figure 3 below). If Chivo was primarily being used for fiat payments, and not bitcoin, then why go through with the whole effort of changing the law for bitcoin's sake?

Figure 3: When Salvadorans did use Chivo for remittances, they preferred it for U.S. dollar remittances over bitcoin-based ones. Source: Are Cryptocurrencies Currencies? Bitcoin as Legal Tender in El Salvador [link]

Moreover, those few citizens who did continue to use Chivo regularly were not the unbanked majority that the Bitcoin Law had originally targeted. The survey found that they were most likely to be from the already-banked minority, young, educated, and male.

By mid-2022, downloads of Chivo had pretty much dried up. Using blockchain tracing, the economists found that $245,000 per day worth of bitcoins were flowing into the Chivo app, which sounds like a lot, but in the payments business, that's peanuts.

It's also worth considering how businesses treated bitcoin after the passing of the Bitcoin Law. Despite the requirement that all businesses  accept bitcoin, just one-in-five actually did so. The survey found that acceptance was driven by large businesses—i.e. McDonald's, Starbucks, Pizza Hut and Walmart—presumably because they couldn't easily evade the consequences of ignoring the law. Bitcoin was not popular with these businesses; the survey found that of those that received bitcoin from their customers, 88% quickly converted them into dollars.

This is problematic. For bitcoin to become money, a circular economy must be kickstarted as the bitcoins spent by consumers are re-spent by businesses on inventory and salaries, which gets re-spent by consumers, and on and on. This wasn't happening.

With just 20% of the population using the app, and mostly for an occasional U.S. dollar transaction, the entire bitcoin experiment can hardly be seen as a wild success. Businesses were not keeping the bitcoins they received, and consumers who were using the app regularly were not the unbanked originally targeted by the Bitcoin Law.

The third and last bit of evidence of the experiment's failure comes from an annual survey from José Simeón Cañas Central American University (UCA) entitled La población salvadoreña evalúa la situación del país. In 2021, the survey began asking Salvadorans whether they had ever used bitcoin to buy or pay for something. This question is more open-ended than the one asked by the three economists, who focused more narrowly on bitcoin transactions conducted via Chivo. 

Figure 4: According to a survey from the UCA, while over 25% of survey participants reported using bitcoin (and not just Chivo) for payments in 2021, only 8.1% used bitcoin for payments just three years later in 2024.

In the first year of the Bitcoin Law, 25.7% of respondents said they used bitcoin for payments. That's a fantastic result, although the $30 Chivo bonus no doubt drove that large number. But over the next three years, bitcoin's usage for payments crumbled, with only 8.1% of Salvadorans reporting that they'd paid with bitcoin by 2024. This is the same downward pattern that we saw in the CBR's remittance data. That's not adoption. That's giving up on bitcoin.

The UCA survey found that the 8.1% who reported using bitcoin for payments in 2024 were not using it for day-to-day payments. Of this group of bitcoin payors, 55% used bitcoin just 1-3 times in 2024. Only 8% made bitcoin payments on a weekly or bi-weekly basis. (See Figure 5 below). I really want to highlight this last data point: in 2024, just 1 in 200 Salvadorans paid for something each week or second week with bitcoin.

Figure 5: In a 2024 survey by UCA, 8.1% of Salvadorans reported using bitcoin for payments that year. This group was then asked how often they used it, with the responses visualized in the above chart. Most used bitcoin just once in 2024, with 55% using it one to three times. 8% used it 20 or more times, which would suggest that almost no one is using bitcoin for day-to-day payments, despite that being the goal of El Salvador's 2021 Bitcoin Law.

Summing up these three pieces of evidence, despite a potent combination of subsidies and coercion, the adoption of bitcoin for payments hasn't occurred. Bitcoin usage in El Salvador is, if anything, regressing. Now that required acceptance of bitcoin is being rescinded, I suspect that it's only a matter of time before all the large businesses that introduced bitcoin payments, like McDonald's and Walmart, drop that option. With the government no longer coercing them to accept bitcoin payments, there's no commercial incentive to continue down that path.

It was IMF pressure on Nayib Bukele that finally got him to give up his bitcoin experiment. But the IMF was doing Bukele a favor, really, because the whole thing was already a failure, as I've explained with the charts above. Cancelling it outright would have been embarrassing to Bukele, but now he can deflect attention from himself and blame the IMF.

Why the failure, and what have we learned?

There is a very big hurdle that has prevented El Salvador's one-two punch of subsidies and coercion from working: bitcoin is intrinsically ill-suited to perform as money. 

The stuff is innately volatile, and so risk-shy individuals don't dare hold it or use it for payments. Risk-seekers can tolerate that volatility, but they expect to be rewarded by a dramatic price rise, and so they refuse to use their bitcoins for payments because they could miss out on the jump. The net result is that no one, neither society's risk-seekers nor its risk-avoiders, ends up paying with bitcoins. Only a tremendous amount of subsidies and coercion will ever overcome their natural preferences, but no sane government would ever try to bring those levels of coercion to bear. (And speeding things up with options like Lightning doesn't change this equation.)

The saddest thing about El Salvador's bitcoin experiment is that all sorts of time and resources have been wasted. El Salvador is not a rich country. The money spent on building and operating Chivo, compliance by businesses, bitcoin signage, and subsidies could have been better deployed on more important things like health and education.  One hopes that other countries learn from this experience and avoid going down the same route that El Salvador did. Brazil, which deployed its wildly popular PIX payment system around the same time as El Salvador launched its Bitcoin Law, provide helpful guidance.

More broadly, I'm hoping that El Salvador's failure finally kills off Satoshi's very misguided dream of bitcoin as electronic cash. I once was a believer in that dream, but for all the reasons I wrote in December, I've long since given up on any chance of bitcoin becoming a widely-circulating currency. But a lot of people continue to sacrifice their careers, time and resources to following Satoshi. Many of these are brilliant people. We want them to be creating valuable things for society. Alas, despite all sorts of evidence that bitcoin payments are a dead end, they continue to hit their heads against the wall, using excuses like government interference. 

Guys, Satoshi's dream is a mirage, a delusion, a hallucination. A government just flexed its muscles for four long years to get bitcoin into circulation, and that still didn't work. The lesson here: bitcoin is a bad payments tool and will never become widely-used electronic cash. It's time to move on.

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*The BCB won't say how it collects this data -- according to the Salvadoran press there are legal limits on how much it can disclose -- but it describes the series as being compiled from administrative records that it receives from "cryptocurrency digital wallets." Reading between the lines, this probably includes Chivo data and any other regulated cryptocurrency service that stores customer crypto and reports to the BCB. (Because Chivo allows both U.S. dollars and bitcoins to be transferred, the BCR's data may be a mix of the two units, muddying the waters.) I think it's safe to assume that the BCR data does not include bitcoin remittances made via non-custodial services, say like Muun wallet or Blue wallet. However, since most of the governments carrot's (i.e. no fees) require the use of Chivo, it's probably a safe assumption that the average Salvadoran uses Chivo for bitcoin transfers, so the BCR data--which almost certainly includes Chivo--is fairly representative of overall usage.

After twelve years of writing about bitcoin, here's how my thinking has changed

What follows is an essay on how my thinking on bitcoin has changed since I began to write on the topic starting with my first post in October 2012. Since then I've written 109 posts on the Moneyness Blog that reference bitcoin, along with a few dozen articles at venues like CoinDesk, Breakermag, and elsewhere.

An early bitcoin optimist

I was excited by Bitcoin in the early days of my blog. The idea of a decentralized electronic payment system fascinated me. Here's an excerpt from my second post on the topic, Bitcoin (for monetary economists) - why bitcoin is great and why it's doomed, dated November 2012:

"Bitcoin is a revolutionary record-keeping system. It is incredibly fast, efficient, cheap, and safe. I can send my Bitcoin from Canada to someone in Africa, have the transaction verified and cleared in 10 minutes, and only pay a fee of a few cents. Doing the same through the SWIFT system would take days and require a $35 fee. If I were a banker, I'd be afraid." [link]

I was relatively open to Bitcoin for two reasons. First, I like to think in terms of moneyness, which means that everything is to some degree money-like, and so I welcome strange and alternative monies. "If you think of money as an adjective, then moneyness becomes the lens by which you view the problem. From this perspective, one might say that Bitcoin always was a money," I wrote in my very first post on bitcoin. Second, prior to 2012 I had read a fair amount of free banking literature—the study of private money—so I was already primed to be receptive to a stateless payments system, which is what Bitcoin's founder, Satoshi Nakamoto, originally meant his (or her) creation to be. 

A lot of bitcoin-curious, bitcoin-critics and bitcoin-converts were attracted to the comments section of my blog, and we had some great conversations over the years. My bitcoin posts invariably attracted more traffic than my non-bitcoin ones, all of us scrambling to understand what seemed to be a newly emerging monetary organism.

My early thoughts on the topic were informed by having bought a few bitcoins in 2012 for the sake of experimentation, some of my earlier blog posts describing how I had played around with them. In 2013 I wrote about the first crop of bitcoin-denominated securities market (which I dabbled in)—predecessors to the ICO market of 2017. I also used my bitcoins to buy altcoins, including Litecoin, and in late 2013 wrote about my disastrous experience with Litecoin-denominated stock market speculation. In Long Chains of Monetary Barter I described using bitcoin as an exotic bridging currency for selling XRP, a new cryptocurrency that had just been airdropped into the world. I didn't notice it at the time, but in hindsight most of these were instances of bitcoin facilitating illegal activity, i.e. unregistered securities sales, which was an early use case for bitcoin.

Although Bitcoin excited me, I was also critical from the outset, and in later years my critical side would only grow, earning me a reputation among crypto fans as being a salty no-coiner. In a 2013 blog post I grumbled that playing around with my stash of bitcoins hadn't been "as exciting as I had anticipated." Unlike regular money, there just wasn't much to do with the stuff, my coins sitting there in my wallet "gathering electronic dust."

 "...the best speculative vehicles to hit the market since 1999 Internet stocks."

What my experimentation with bitcoin had taught me was that the main reason to hold "isn't because they make great exchange media—it's because they're the best speculative vehicles to hit the market since 1999 Internet stocks." But that wasn't what I was there for. What had tantalized me was Satoshi's vision of electronic cash, a revolutionary digital payments system. Not boring old speculation.

In addition to my practical complaints about bitcoin, I also had theoretical gripes with it. The "lethal" problem as I saw it back in my second post in 2012 is that "bitcoin has no intrinsic value." Over the next decade this lack of intrinsic value, or fundamental value, would underly most of my criticisms of the orange coin. Back in 2012, though, the main implication of bitcoin's lack of intrinsic value was the ease by which it might fall back to $0. As I put it in a 2013 article:

"Bitcoin is 100% moneyness. Whenever a liquidity crisis hits, the only way for the bitcoin market to accommodate everyone's demand to sell is for the price of bitcoin to hit zero—all out implosion" [link]

But if the price of bitcoin were to fall to zero then it would cease to operate as a monetary system, which would be a huge disappointment to those of us who were fascinated with Satoshi's electronic cash experiment. Adding to the danger was the influx of bitcoin lookalikes, or altcoins, like litecoin, namecoin, and sexcoin. In theory, the prices of bitcoin and its competitors could "quickly collapse in price" as arbitrageurs create new coins ad infinitum, I worried in 2012, eating away at bitcoin's premium. The alternative view, which I explored in a 2013 post entitled Milton Friedman and the mania in copy-paste cryptocoins,  was that "the earliest mover has superior features compared to late moving clones," including name brand and liquidity, and so its dominance was locked-in via network effects. Over time the latter view proved to be the correct one.

The "zero problem"

Despite my worries, I was optimistic about bitcoin, even helpful. One way to stop bitcoin from falling to zero might be a "plunge protection team," I offered in 2013, a group of avid bitcoin collectors that could anchor bitcoin's price and provide a degree of automatic stabilization. In a 2015 post entitled The zero problem, I suggested that bitcoin believers like Marc Andreessen should consider donating $21 million to a bitcoin stabilization fund, thus securing a price floor of $1 in perpetuity. 

No fan of credit cards, in a 2016 post Bitcoin, drowning in a sea of credit card rewards, I suggested that bitcoin activists encourage retailers that accept bitcoin payments to offer price discounts. This carrot would put bitcoin on an even playing field with credit card networks, which use incentives like reward points and cashback to block out competing payment systems.

My growing disillusionment

By 2014 or 2015, I no longer saw much hope for bitcoin as a mainstream payments system or generally-accepted medium-of-exchange. "For any medium of exchange to displace another as a means for buying stuff, users need come out ahead. And this isn't happening with bitcoin," I wrote in a 2015 post entitled Why bitcoin has failed to achieve liftoff as a medium of exchange, pointing to the many costs of making bitcoin payments, including commissions, setup costs, and the inconveniences of volatility.

In another 2015 post I focused specifically on the volatility problem, which stems from bitcoin's lack of intrinsic value. If an item has an unstable price, that militates against it becoming a widely used money. After all, the whole reason that people stockpile buffers of liquid instruments, or money, is that these buffers serve as a form of insurance against uncertainty. If an item's price isn't stable—which bitcoin isn't—it can't perform that role. 

Mind you, I did allow in another 2015 post, The dollarization of bitcoin, that bitcoin might continue as "an arcane niche payments system for a community of like minded consumers and retailers." I even tracked some of these arcane payments use cases, such a 2020 blog post on retailers of salvia divinorium (a legal drug in many U.S. states) falling back on bitcoin for payments after the credit card networks kicked them off, followed by a 2021 post on kratom sellers (a mostly-legal substance) doing the same. But let's face it, a niche payments system just wasn't as impressive as Satoshi's much broader vision of electronic cash that had beguiled me in 2012, when I had warned that "if I was a banker, I'd be afraid." 

The dollarization of bitcoin

By 2015 a lot of my pro-bitcoin blog commenters began to see me as a traitor. But I was just changing my thinking with the arrival of new data.

Searching for Bitcoin-inspired alternatives: Fedcoin and stablecoins

Bitcoin's deficiencies got me thinking very early on about how to create bitcoin-inspired alternatives. By late 2012 I was already thinking about stablecoins:

"What the bitcoin record-keeping mechanism needs is an already-valuable underlying asset to which it can be tethered. Rather than tracking, verifying, and recording the movement of intrinsically worthless 1s and 0s, it will track the movement of something valuable." [link]

Later, in 2013, I speculated about the emergence of "stable-value crypto-currency, not the sort that dangles and has a null value." These alternatives would "copy the best aspects" of bitcoin, like its speed and safety, but would be linked to "some intrinsically valuable item." A few months later I predicted that "Cryptocoin 2.0, or stable-value cryptocoins, is probably not too far away." This would eventually happen, but not for another few years.

My dissatisfaction with bitcoin led me to the idea of decentralized exchanges, or DEXs, in 2013, whereby equity markets would "adopt a bitcoin-style distributed ledger." That same year I imagined central banks adapting "bitcoin technology" to run its wholesale payments system in my post Why the Fed is more likely to adopt bitcoin technology than kill it off. In 2014 I developed this thought into the idea of Fedcoin, an early central bank digital currency, or CBDC, for retail users.

If not money, then what is bitcoin?

By 2017 or so, even the most ardent bitcoin advocates were being forced to acknowledge that Satoshi's electronic cash system was not panning out: the orange coin was nowhere near to becoming a popular medium-of-exchange. This was especially apparent thanks to a growing body of payments surveys (which I began to report on in 2020) showing that bitcoin users almost never used their bitcoins to make payments or transfers, preferring instead to hoard them. So the true believers pivoted and began to describe bitcoin as a store-of-value, or digital gold. It was a new narrative that glossed over Satoshi's dream of electronic cash while trying to salvage some monetary-ish parts of the story.

I thought this whole salvage operation was disingenuous. In 2017 I wrote about my dissatisfaction with the new store-of-value narrative, and followed that up with a criticism of the digital gold concept in Bitcoin Isn’t Digital Gold; It’s Digital Uselesstainium. (The idea that store-of-value is a unique property of money is silly, I wrote in 2020, and we should just chuck the concept altogether.)

But if bitcoin was never going to become a generally-accepted form of money, and it wasn't a store-of-value or digital gold, then what exactly was it? 

I didn't nail this down till a 2018 post entitled A Case for Bitcoin. We all thought at the outset that bitcoin was a monetary thingamajig. But we were wrong. Of the types of assets already in existence, bitcoin was not akin to gold, cash, or bank deposits. Rather, it was most similar to an age-old category of financial games and zero-sum bets that includes poker, lotteries, and roulette. The particular sub-branch of the financial game family that bitcoin belonged to was early-bird games, which contains pyramids, ponzis, and chain letters. Here is a taxonomy:

A taxonomy showing bitcoin as a member of the early-bird game family

Early-bird games like pyramids, ponzis, and chain letters are a type of zero-sum game in which early players win at the expense of latecomers, the bet being sustained over time by a constant stream of new entrants and ending when no additional players join. Pyramids and ponzis are almost always administered by thieves who abscond with the pot. Bitcoin, by contrast, was not a scheme nor a scam. And it was not run by a scammer. It was leaderless and spontaneous, an "honest" early-bird game that hewed to pre-set rules. Here is how I described it in a later post, Bitcoin as a Novel Financial Game:

"Bitcoin introduces some neat features to the financial-game space. Firstly, everyone in the world can play it (i.e., it is censorship-resistant). Secondly, the task of managing the game has been decentralized. Lastly, Bitcoin’s rules are automated by code and fully auditable." [link] 

This ponziness of bitcoin was actually a source of its strength, I suggested in 2023, because "it's tough to shut down a million imaginations." By contrast, if bitcoin had an underlying real anchor, like gold, then that would give authorities a toe hold for decommissioning it.

Bitcoin-as-game gave me more insight into why most bitcoin owners weren't using bitcoin as a medium-of-exchange. Its value as a zero-sum bet was overriding any functionality it had for making payments. In a 2018 post entitled Can Lottery Tickets Become Money?, I worked this out more clearly:

"Like Jane's lottery ticket, a bitcoin owner's bitcoins aren't just bitcoins, they are a dream, a lambo, a ticket out of drudgery. Spending them at a retailer at mere market value would be a waste given their 'destiny' is to hit the moon." [link]

If bitcoins weren't like bank deposits or cash, how should we treat them from a personal finance perspective? Feel free to play bitcoin, I wrote in late 2018, but do so in moderation, just like you would if you went to Vegas. "Remember, it's just a game."

Bitcoin is innocuous, don't ban it

By 2020 or 2021, the commentary surrounding bitcoin seemed to be getting more polarized. As always there was a set of hardcore bitcoin zealots who thought bitcoin's destiny was to change the world, of which I had been a member for a brief time in 2012. But arrayed against them was a new group of strident opponents who though bitcoin was incredibly dangerous and were pushing to ban it.

A vandalized 'Bitcoin accepted' sign in my neighborhood

I was at odds with both sides. Each saw Bitcoin as transformative, one side for the good, the other for the bad. But I conceived of it as an innocuous gambling device, one that only seemed novel because it had been transplanted into a new kind of database technology, blockchains. We shouldn't ban bitcoin for the same reason that we've generally become more comfortable over the decades removing prohibitions on online gambling and sports betting. Better to bring these activities into the open and regulate them than leave them to exist in the shadows.

Thus began a series of relax-don't-ban-bitcoin posts. In 2022, I wrote that central bankers shouldn't be afraid that bitcoin might render them powerless. For the same reason that casinos and lotteries will ever be a credible threat to dollar's issued by the Fed or the Bank of Canada, neither will bitcoin.

Illicit usage of bitcoin was becoming an increasingly controversial subject. Just like casinos are used by money launderers, bitcoin had long become a popular tool for criminals, the most notorious of which were ransomware operators. My view was that we could use existing tools to deal with these bad actors. Instead of banning bitcoin to end the ransomware plague, for instance, I suggested in a 2021 article that we might embargo the payment of ransoms instead, thus choking off fuel to the ransomware fire. Alternatively, I argued in a later post that the U.S. could fight ransomware using an existing tool: Section 311 of the Patriot Act. Which is what eventually happened with Bitzlato and PM2BTC, two Russian exchanges popular with ransomware operators that were put on the Section 311 list.    

Nor should national security experts be afraid of enemy actors using bitcoin to evade sanctions, I wrote in 2019, since existing tools, in particular secondary sanctions, are capable of dealing with the threat. The failure of bitcoin to serve as an effective tool for funding the illegal Ottawa protests, which I documented in a March 2022 article, only underlined its low threat potential:

"Governments, whether they be democracies or dictatorships, are often fearful of crypto's censorship-resistance, leading to calls for bans. The lesson from the Ottawa trucker convoy and Russian ransomware gangs is that as long as the on-ramping and off-ramping process are regulated, these fears are overblown." [link]

Other calls to ban bitcoin were inspired by its voracious energy usage. In a 2021 blog post entitled The overconsumption theory of bitcoin, I attributed bitcoin's terrible energy footprint to market failure: end users of bitcoin don't directly pay for the huge amounts of electricity required to power their bets, so they overuse it. No need to ban bitcoin, though. The way to fix this particular market failure is to introduce a Pigouvian tax on buying and/or holding bitcoins, which I described more clearly in a 2021 blog post entitled A tax on proof of work and a 2022 article called Make bitcoin cheap again for cypherpunks! 

Lastly, whereas bitcoin's harshest critics have been advocating a "let it burn" policy approach to bitcoin and crypto more generally, which involved leaving gateways unregulated and thus toxic, I began to recommend regulating crypto exchanges under the same standards as equities exchanges in a 2021 article entitled Gary Gensler, You Should be Watching How Canada is Regulating Coinbase. Yes, regulation legitimizes a culture of gambling. But even Las Vegas has stringent regulations. A set of basic protections would reduce the odds of the betting public being hurt by fraudulent exchanges. FTX was a good test case. After the exchange collapsed, almost all FTX customers were stuck in limbo for years, but FTX Japan customers walked out unscathed thanks to Japan's regulatory framework, which I wrote about in a 2022 post Six reasons why FTX Japan survived while the rest of FTX burned.  

So when does bitcoin get dangerous?

What I've learnt after many years of writing about bitcoin is that it's a relatively innocuous phenomena, even pedestrian. When it does lead to bad outcomes, I've outlined how those can be handled with our existing tools. But here's what does have me worried. 

If you want to buy some bitcoins, go right ahead. We can even help by regulating the trading venues to make it safe. But don't force others to play.

Whoops, You Just Got Bitcoin’d! by Daniel Krawisz

Alas, that seems to be where we are headed. There is a growing effort to arm-twist the rest of society into joining in by having governments acquire bitcoins, in the U.S.'s case a Strategic Bitcoin Reserve. The U.S. government has never entered the World Series of Poker. Nor has it gone to Vegas to bet billions to tax payer funds on roulette or built a strategic Powerball ticket reserve, but it appears to be genuinely entertaining the idea of rolling the dice on Bitcoin.  

Bitcoin is an incredibly infectious early-bird game, one that after sixteen years continues to find a constant stream of new recruits. How contagious? I originally estimated in a 2022 post, Three potential paths for the price of bitcoin, that adoption wouldn't rise above 10%-15% of the global population, but I may have been underestimating its transmissibility. My worry is that calls for government support will only accelerate as more voters, government officials, and bureaucrats catch the orange coin mind virus and act on it. It begins with a small strategic reserve of a few billion dollars. It ends with the Department of Bitcoin Price Appreciation being allocated 50% of yearly tax revenues to make the number go up, to the detriment of infrastructure like roads, hospitals, and law enforcement. At that point we've entered a dystopia in which society rapidly deteriorates because we've all become obsessed on a bet.

Although I never wanted to ban Bitcoin, I can't help but wonder whether a prohibition wouldn't have been the better policy back in 2013 or 2014 given the new bitcoin-by-force path that advocates are pushing it towards. But it's probably too late for that; the coin is already out of the bag. All I can hope is that my long history of writing on the topic might persuade a few readers that forcing others to play the game you love is not fair game.

Bitcoin as a tool of U.S. economic statecraft

Riot Platform's Rockdale, Texas facility, North America’s largest Bitcoin mining farm by developed capacity [source]

Can a network that has been marketed as being resistant to government power be harnessed by the U.S. administrative state in order to attain its foreign policy goals?

Sam Lyman, an executive at Riot Platforms, a bitcoin miner, opens the door to the topic by suggesting that bitcoin can become a tool of U.S. economic statecraft, and the way to do so is by having the U.S. government buy a strategic reserve of the stuff.

I agree that bitcoin can be used as a tool of U.S. economic statecraft, but disagree on how. There's absolutely no need for the U.S. government to buy any bitcoin in order to lever the Bitcoin network for foreign policy purposes. Buying bitcoins would only waste scarce resources, driving up the price to the benefit a select few speculators. No, the U.S. already has the means to lever the bitcoin network, and that's by leaning on the U.S. private sector's dominance of bitcoin mining, of which Lyman's own Riot Platforms is a big player (see photo at top).

The U.S. controls 38% of all bitcoin mining capacity, a big share of that being in Texas. Mining is a word people use in place of "maintaining the network." When a bitcoin transaction is made, miners are the folks who verify and process it, a number of miners often banding together to form pools for that purpose. Without miners, the bitcoin network ceases to function. 

How to lever the Texas bitcoin mining nexus for the purposes of statecraft? In short, the mining nexus must be brought on par with its bigger cousin, the New York banking nexus, which the U.S. government already harnesses to further its foreign policy goals.

Any American banker that deals with a foreign individual or entity that has been designated, or sanctioned, by the U.S. government risks a penalty, either monetary or jail time. Sanctioned individuals are generally folks living overseas who are deemed to be in conflict with the U.S. foreign policy interests. And so U.S. banks, the largest nexus of which is based in New York, try to avoid punishment by cutting sanctioned names off from their banking platforms, thereby exporting American foreign policy to the rest of the world.

By requiring Texas's bitcoin miners (or the pools of which they are members) to abide by the same standard as banks, don't deal with bitcoin users who are deemed detrimental to U.S. foreign policy goals or you will be punished, the Bitcoin network would likewise become a platform for extending American foreign policy goals to the rest of the world. This would oblige Texas miners to comb over sanctions list and offboard blacklisted individuals, just like bankers currently do. With 38% of the world's mining capability in Texas and a few other states, that's a sizable amount of U.S. influence.

But that's only the beginning. There are ways to further upgrade bitcoin's capability as a tool of sanctions-based statecraft. When the U.S. sanctions program was still in its infancy, the punishment for breaking U.S. sanctions was generally limited to Americans individuals and entities. Over the last decade or two the U.S. has been extending punishment extraterritorially to foreigners, by arguing that when a foreigner "causes" an unsuspecting U.S. entity to process sanctioned transactions, then the foreigner is themself criminally liable under U.S. law for sanctions evasion.

An example may help. A decade ago a large Turkish bank called Halkbank processed transactions for sanctioned Iranians. Nothing illegal about that. A Turkish bank isn't under U.S. jurisdiction, and thus it can deal with any customer the Turkish government allows it to, even one that has been blacklisted by the U.S. What got Halkbank in trouble with the Department of Justice is that the transactions it processed passed through, or transited, the bank's correspondent accounts in New York. The fact that it had "caused" its New York banker to provide financial services to sanctioned Iranians (see the language below) was enough for Halkbank to be criminally indicted in New York for sanctions evasion.

The crime of causing others to violate sanctions [source]

The same framework could be extended to Texas bitcoin miners.

For instance, if a Turkish crypto exchange were to send some bitcoins to a sanctioned Russian, and this transfer was processed by a Texas mining farm or pool, say Riot Platform's Rockdale facility, that would now give the U.S. government the hook it needs to charge the Turkish exchange with sanctions violation. By "causing" Riot to process a prohibited transaction, the Turkish exchange is itself criminally liable under U.S. law. To avoid that possibility, the Turkish exchange may choose to proactively adopt the U.S. government's sanctions list, thus acting as a vessel for conveying U.S. policy on Turkish soil.

The threat of punishing foreign actors for "causing" U.S. entities (whether those be miners or bankers) to process sanctioned transactions acts as a force-multiplier of U.S. foreign policy goals. Not only do U.S. financial institutions export policy, as was traditionally the case, but now foreign institutions are nudged into importing it, too.

To sum up, if folks like Lyman were genuinely serious about harnessing bitcoin as a tool of U.S. foreign policy, they'd be calling for the U.S. government to apply to miners the same sanctions standards that currently apply to regular financial entities like banks. That they aren't calling for this, and instead want the U.S. government to buy bitcoin, suggests they are motivated by a higher price for bitcoin and their own corporate profits, not actual statecraft. 

Do bitcoin ETFs conflict with bitcoin's original ethos?

Some folks are suggesting that a bitcoin ETF is absurd because it doesn't fit with Bitcoin's original ethos. On the contrary, I think it's a nice snug fit.

It would be a misunderstanding of bitcoin's history to assume that it was the idealism of cypherpunk-ism that gave birth to the Bitcoin movement. Bitcoin would never have got off the ground without a massive amount of old fashioned greed. In bitcoin-speak, this greed usually goes by the term number-go-up, and it was crucial from the start. The new bitcoin ETFs are certainly not cypherpunk, but they are very much in the founding spirit of number-go-up.

One of the main goals of the 1990s cypherpunks, if you recall, was to create anonymous digital cash. And while bitcoin certainly has some roots in cypherpunk ideals, the ethos of number-go-up clashes with the dream of digital cash: after all, an asset with a volatile price makes for an awful medium of exchange. Before long, number-go-up had drowned out the cypherpunks.

I recall walking into Montreal's Bitcoin Embassy in 2014, which was located on the busy intersection of St-Laurent and Prince-Arthur. I had already been researching and writing about bitcoin for a few years, but decided to play it dumb to see how the folks at the Embassy would approach the task of teaching a newbie about bitcoin. Instead of preaching to me about how to make a bitcoin payment from my own self-custody wallet, the ambassador walked me over to a large screen showing bitcoin's price. "Look, it's rising," he said in awe.

That, in short, sums up bitcoinism. Like 1980s televangelism with its gold-plated cowboy boots, mansions, private jets, and a dose of God on the side, bitcoin is all about the price chart with a small helping of cypherpunk ideology.

Number-go-up has always required getting ever more people into the game. Bitcoin, after all, is itself sterile. Unlike a publicly-traded business, it doesn't generate a stream of improving profits, so the only way for its price to keep rising is to recruit more players, much like a pyramid or a chain letter. From the early days, getting access to traditional financial and banking infrastructure has been crucial to making this recruitment process go as smoothly as possible.

Docking bitcoin to the existing financial edifice began in 2010 with the first bitcoin exchanges, which hooked into the crucial global bank wire systems like SWIFT, as well as local wire systems like the Federal Reserve's Fedwire system and Europe's SEPA system. These integrations were key to pumping the initial rounds of money into the game, and pushing the number above $1, and then $10, $100, and $1000.

Later on, bridges to the Visa/MasterCard debit card and credit card networks brought an even tighter fusion between bitcoin and the regular world, more inflows, and more number-go-up. The addition of bitcoin purchases to mobile payment apps like PayPal and Cash App came after. Viewed in this context, ETFs are nothing new, really; they only represent the next coupling between the two worlds.

As for regular old finance, it isn't complaining. The task of players like Visa is to generate profits – they want nothing more than to add new products like bitcoin to the list of products they already connect. The curious result is that no chain-letter style product has ever gone as mainstream as bitcoin has.

Now that bitcoin ETFs exist, number-go-up demands even more linkages to traditional finance and banking. What's next? One possibility: expect the bitcoin community to lobby for federally-chartered banks to be allowed to offer bitcoin products alongside savings deposits and retirement accounts. Banks offering bitcoin to their retail client base may seem inconsistent with bitcoin's more cypherpunk-y dreams of replacing the banking system, but on the contrary: its hard to imagine a more fantastic recruitment tool for number-go-up.

Crypto adoption in America

Source: America Loves Crypto

You may have recently come across the America Loves Crypto marketing campaign, sponsored by Coinbase, the U.S.'s largest crypto exchange. In an attempt to promote the voting power of crypto owners, the website makes the claim that 52 million American adults currently hold crypto, which constitutes 20% of the U.S. adult population. If true, that's a massive voting block.

As the source for its 20% statistic, Coinbase cites an online survey of 2,202 adults that it commissioned from Morning Consult last February, which among other questions queried respondents for how much crypto they currently hold.

If you've been following other sources for cryptocurrency adoption data, Coinbase's 20% statistic seems... questionable?

To see why, let's dig into U.S. crypto adoption data. What follows is a quick rundown of what the best surveys have had to say about Americans crypto ownership. Later on in the article I'll get into who they are, how much they own, and why they hold it.

1) The granddaddy of all U.S. payments surveys is the Federal Reserve's Survey and Diary of Consumer Payment Choice, or SDCPC. The SDCPC is a long-running data collection effort that tries to paint a comprehensive picture of U.S. consumers' payment preferences and behavior. It fortuitously began to incorporate crypto-related questions way back in 2014, although crypto is just a tiny portion of the incredible amount of data collected by the SDCPC.

The Fed's SDCPC is run through the University of Southern California's Understanding America Study panel. In its 2022 iteration the SDCPC polled more than 4,761 participants. Notably, the SDCPC includes both a survey and a 3-day diary portion. Diaries are more labor intensive to administer than surveys, but provide better information since they minimize recall bias.

The SDCPC found that 9.6% of American adults owned cryptocurrency in 2022, up from 9.1% in 2021, and far higher than the 0.6% it polled back in 2015. However, that's far less than Coinbase's 20% claim. Only one of these numbers can be right. Which one is it?

The SDCPC's historical findings are in the table below.

U.S. cryptocurrency adoptions rates. Source: Federal Reserve's 2022 Survey & Diary of Consumer Payment Choice

2) The Federal Reserve publishes another survey that also sheds light on U.S. crypto adoption. The Fed's annual Survey of Household Economics and Decisionmaking (SHED) examines the financial lives of American adults and their families, and is therefore more general than the Fed's SDCPC, which is focused exclusively on payments.

The Fed's SHED is administered by Ipsos using Ipsos's KnowlegePanel panel. In 2022, 11,667 participants completed the SHED.

The SHED only began to include questions about crypto in 2021. It finds that 10% of Americans used cryptocurrency during 2022, where "using" is defined as buying, holding, or making a payment or transfer with crypto. This amount was down from 12% in 2021 (see table below). The number of Americans who held cryptocurrency as an investment, a narrower definition than "using", fell to 8% in 2022 from 10%.

Source: Federal Reserve's 2022 SHED

The SHED's 8-10% number neatly confirms the SDCPC's 9.6% finding while disaffirming Coinbase's 20% statistic.

3) The next decent source for crypto adoption data is tabulated by a group of four economics and finance researchers using quarterly surveys of the Nielsen Homescan panel, comprised of 80,000 households. With response rates of 20-25% per survey, that represents data from 15,000 to 25,000 respondents.

Weber, Candia, Coibion, and Gorodnichenko (Weber et al) found that at the end of 2022, the fraction of all households owning crypto had risen to 12%. The black dotted line in the chart below shows how ownership rates have changed over time.

Source: Weber et al (2023) using Nielsen Homescan Panel data

 

4) The fourth in our survey of crypto surveys was conducted by the Pew Research Center using its American Trends Panel. In a March 2023 survey of 10,701 panelists, Pew found that 17% of American adults have "ever invested in, traded, or used" a cryptocurrency. This is a very broad category, and would presumably include someone who casually bought $25 worth of bitcoin back in 2015 and sold it three days later, and has never touched it again.

Drilling in further, of the 17% who have ever owned or used crypto, 69% report that they currently hold some, which works out to a 2023 ownership rate of 11-12% among American adults. That's not too far off the two Fed surveys and Weber et al, but significantly different from the Coinbase result.

5) A fifth source of data comes from Canada, which serves as a decent cross-check against U.S. data given that both countries are quite similar in terms of culture and geography. Of the two key Canadian surveys, the first is the Bank of Canada's long-running Bitcoin Omnibus Survey (BTCOS), administered by Ipsos, which amalgamates participants from three different panels.

The 2022 BTCOS polled 1,997 Canadians and found an ownership rate of 10%, down from 13% the year before (see chart below). This constitutes a lower bound to ownership rates since it only includes bitcoin owners. The 2022 BTCOS also finds that 3.5% of Canadians own dogecoin and 4% own ether. However, it's not possible to add these amounts to the 10% bitcoin ownership number since many respondents own multiple types of crypto. 

Source: Bank of Canada 2022 Bitcoin Omnibus Survey

The second Canadian survey of note was carried out by the Ontario Securities Commission in 2022 to explore Canadian attitudes towards crypto assets. Conducted with Ipsos, the survey polled 2,360 Canadians in early 2022. It found that 13% of Canadians currently own any type of cryptocurrency, including crypto ETFs, which are legal in Canada but illegal in the US.

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So there you have it. The two Federal Reserve surveys put crypto ownership at 9.6% and 8-10% respectively in 2022, while Weber et al peg it at 12% using Nielsen Homescan data. Pew has American crypto ownership at 11-12% by early 2023. And in Canada, the Bank of Canada calculates bitcoin ownership to be at 10% by the end of 2022, while the Ontario Securities Commission pegs total crypto ownership at 13% in early 2022, before much of crypto imploded.

Given this range of data, the 20% adoption rate that Coinbase's Morning Consult survey trots out is a glaring outlier and probably deserves to be thrown out. The American crypto owner is a potentially sizeable voting group, but not as big as Coinbase would like us to believe.

For what it's worth, I've found a few other odd things with Coinbase's Morning Consult survey that further adds to my skepticism. Morning Consult reports that 8% of respondents currently own a cryptocurrency called USDC, down from 10% the quarter before (see here for more). The survey also says that 5% currently own Tether. USDC and Tether are stablecoins. To anyone who follows crypto closely, the idea that 1 in 10 Americans own any particular stablecoin is absurd. Given that Morning Consult has surely got this wrong, perhaps through a sampling error, that makes you wonder about the quality of their overall work.

However, even if we ignore Coinbase's Morning Consult survey, the 9.6% adoption rate found in the bellwether SDCPC is still breathtakingly high. In just fifteen years, crypto has gone from a strange niche product to something that is being held by tens of millions of Americans.

What additional facts do we know about America's crypto owners?

Size of holdings

Going through the SDCPC data, the majority of Americans who own crypto only have a little bit of the stuff. Out of all U.S. crypto owners surveyed, 45% owned just $0-200 worth of crypto in 2022. This is illustrated in the chart below. The median quantity of crypto held was $312. Given such small amounts, I doubt that these crypto owners qualify as durable crypto adopters, as opposed to folks who've jumped on the bandwagon when they saw a Superbowl ad from Coinbase, bought some dogecoin, and have since stopped paying any attention.

The SDCPC data suggests that 1 in 4 crypto owners are what I call crypto fundamentalists, holding more than $2,000 worth of crypto. Given that 90% of Americans don't hold any crypto at all, two in every 100 Americans qualifies as a crypto fundamentalist.

This skewed distribution of crypto ownership is confirmed by survey results from Weber et al and the Nielsen Homescan panel. An outlier group of hard-core owners, representing around 8% of all crypto owners, allocates their entire portfolio to crypto (see chart below). By far the largest group of crypto owners is comprised of small dabblers who put just 0-5% of their portfolios into crypto.

Source: Weber et al (2023) using Nielsen Homescan Panel data

Reasons for ownership

Why do Americans own cryptocurrency? Despite being labelled as "currencies," cryptocurrencies are not generally used as a medium for making payments. Price appreciation is the dominant motivation for owning them.

When the SDCPC survey queried participants in 2022 for their "primary reason for owning virtual currency," the most popular answer (at 67%) was investment (see chart below, orange rows). The second most popular reason (21%) was "I am interested in new technologies." It was rare for respondents to list any sort of payments-related use case as their primary reason for ownership. As for lack of trust in banks, the government, or the dollar – all of which are common cryptocurrency themes – these were rarely mentioned in 2022 as a primary reason for ownership.

Interestingly, Americans crypto owners were not always so obsessed with price appreciation. In 2014, the SDCPC found that American crypto currency owners tended to offer a much broader set of motivations for owning crypto, including lack of trust, cross-border payments, and to make purchases of goods and services (see chart above, blue rows).

The dominance of investment as the motivating reason for owning crypto is echoed in Weber et al's analysis of Nielsen Homescan survey data. Respondents were allowed to give multiple reasons for owning cryptocurrency, the most popular reason (see chart below) being to take advantage of "expected increase in value." The desire to use cryptocurrencies for international transfers was almost nonexistent, as was the desire to be "independent of banks."

Crypto owners don't care about making international transfers, private purchases, or being "independent of banks," as the chart shows.

What they want is "increase in value."

This is a fairly reliable data source: 80,000 households participating in the Nielsen Homescan Panel. pic.twitter.com/0oBfATgFoY

— John Paul Koning (@jp_koning) June 22, 2023

The Fed's SHED survey isolates the same pattern as the other two surveys (see table below). Of the 10% of Americans who report using cryptocurrency in 2022, most do so as an investment. One small difference is that the SHED reports that around 2% of all survey participants used crypto to send money to friends of family in 2022. This suggests the transactional motive, while not primary, may be somewhat more prevalent than the previous two surveys suggest.

Source: Federal Reserve's 2022 SHED

Types of cryptocurrency held

What sorts of crypto were popular with Americans? Using Nielsen Homescan data, Weber et al found that of the 11% of survey respondents who are crypto owners, 70% held bitcoin while just over 40% held ether and dogecoin respectively.

Around 11% of American households owned crypto in 2021, according to a Nielsen Homescan survey of 80,000 households.

Of this 11%, 4 out of 10 households held Dogecoin.

So around 6 million US households owned Dogecoin in 2021, which is just nuts. pic.twitter.com/31FjTbfqBE

— John Paul Koning (@jp_koning) July 4, 2023

This distribution is echoed in the Fed's 2022 SDCPC. Almost 65% of all crypto owners surveyed held bitcoin (the data is here), making it the most popular type of cryptocurrency. Meanwhile, 44.8% held ether and 38% held dogecoin, a coin that was originally created as a joke in 2013. That works out to around 4-5% of all Americans who are in on the joke.

Crypto bros

There's a reason that people throw around the term "crypto bro." Without exception, all of the U.S. surveys find that cryptocurrency owners tend to be young, male, and have a high income. 

The same goes for Canada, where in 2022 there were three male bitcoin owners for every female. The Bank of Canada has also regularly tested bitcoin owners for their degree of financial literacy using the Big Three questions method, and finds that they tend to have lower financial literacy than non-bitcoin owners.

The prototypical Canadian bitcoin owner in 2022 was a young university-educated male, employed at a high-income job, and lacking financial literacy. pic.twitter.com/N3hQX4AWes

— John Paul Koning (@jp_koning) September 28, 2023

Interestingly, in addition to isolating the crypto bro pattern – the tendency for crypto owners to be young, male, and wealthy – both the Pew survey and the Fed's SHED (see table below) find that U.S. crypto owners are more likely to be Asian, followed by Black and Hispanic, and least likely to be White.

The Fed's SHED survey dug deeper into usage by demographics, and found that while "investment" remains the driving case for owning crypto, and that the rich use the stuff proportionally more than the poor, certain demographic groups tend to rely on it more than others for making transactions. Specifically, the SHED finds that among low income families, 5% report an investment motivation for holding crypto while 4% report a transactional motivation.

Source: Federal Reserve's 2022 SHED

All of this data suggests to me the existence of three American crypto archetypes. 

The most dominant crypto archetype is the young wealthy male crypto dabbler, most likely non-white, who holds a few hundred bucks worth of doge or some other coin in order to gamble on prices going up. Coinbase's America Loves Crypto campaign makes the claim that "the crypto owner is a critical voter," but I suspect this doesn't hold for the dominant dabbler archetype, who probably doesn't have much attachment to their casual $50 bet on doge or litecoin or bitcoin, and thus can't be assembled into a voting block for crypto-related cause.

Another archetype is the much rarer crypto fundamentalist, a young male who has committed most of his savings to crypto. I suspect these are the types I encounter on Twitter, who evangelize and debate crypto to anyone who'll listen. This may be a small group, but they are also the most likely to vote for crypto-related causes.

Lastly, there seems to be a very small group of low-income people who are using crypto for actual transactions, the original use-case that Satoshi Nakamoto intended when he introduced the first cryptocurrency back in 2008.

Why bitcoiners should learn to accept bitcoin's ponzi nature as a good thing

When I describe bitcoin as a type of ponzi or pyramid, idealistic bitcoiners usually view this as an attack on the nobility of the bitcoin project. But they shouldn't. Bitcoin's ponzi nature is one of its greatest strength.

Imagine that you are trying to bootstrap an unorthodox and potentially illegal asset, one that you are marketing (or mis-marketing) to the world as a new monetary system. The standard way to get your asset to have a positive price is to have some funds in a vault somewhere and then link that new asset to whatever is held in the vault. Examples include failures like e-Gold and Liberty Reserve. Neal Stephenson's gold-backed currency in Cryptonomicon is another that followed this script.

It is this underlying intrinsic anchor that imbues the overlying novel asset that you are trying to kickstart with its original positive price.

The problem with this approach is that if the asset is illegal-ish, then to shut it down the authorities need only locate the underlying source of value and confiscate it. With the backing gone, it's game over.

Instead of relying on the tangible world of vaults and backing, bitcoin's creators got their asset to have a positive value by taking a non-tangible route through people's mindscapes. The original two dozen or so adopters began to play a self-referential mind game which went a bit like this: "If I think Joe will buy bitcoin at a higher price in the future because he thinks Susan will buy at an even higher price, for the reason that she thinks that I will buy even higher up, then I'll buy some bitcoin now."

This circular process, a ponzi game, worked. Very early on, bitcoin was imbued with a positive value. The mind game has since grown from a few dozen players to hundreds to thousands to millions, but the self-referential logic of a ponzi continues to be the basis for bitcoin's price.

It's easy to confiscate gold or shut down a bank account. These things are tangible and have actual physical locations with addresses. But it's tough to shut down a million imaginations participating in a collective illusion. First, there's a million of them. And second, imagination isn't something that authorities can fine or confiscate. People's dreams and delusions, their mental gymnastics and schemes, are all locked safely in their skulls.

And so the authorities very quickly gave up and let the bitcoin ponzi game play out, which probably wouldn't have been the case if bitcoin's creators had gone the non-ponzi route and tried to establish an anchor to real world assets.
 
In sum, bitcoin is resilient because its source of value is ponzi logic playing out in millions of people's heads. Bitcoin idealists may bristle at the idea of being associated with a ponzi, but they should embrace it as a strength.