"Digital Dust" - Full 10 Chapters-Article

The History of Once Upon a Time

Written in collaboration with Guaka and "Grok" AI.

Welcome to Digital Dust, a series of articles that dives deep into the story of cryptography—not just as a technology, but as part of human nature, culture, and the dream of controlling value and secrets. From the camouflaged patterns of animals in nature, through the secrets of kings in ancient Egypt, to the digital cowboys of today riding waves of hype—we’re here to tell the true story of crypto. It’s a saga about communication, money, power, and what remains when all the excitement fades away—digital dust.

Chapter 1: Secrets of Nature: The History of Encryption and Human Communication

In the first chapter, “Secrets of Nature: The History of Encryption and Human Communication,” we go way back, long before computers, before money as we know it, and even before writing. We’ll explore how encryption is part of the universe—from the camouflage patterns of zebras to the ciphers of kings and merchants. We’ll see how public communication and economics are intertwined with these secrets, pausing just before the modern computer era, when cryptography became a science that changed the world. Ready? Let’s dive in.

Encryption in Nature: The Secrets of the Universe

Long before humans invented writing, nature already knew how to encrypt. Think of the zebra’s stripes, blending into the savanna to protect it from predators, or the song of birds, serving as a communication code understood only by their own kind. In rainforests, orchids develop shapes and scents “encrypted” to attract specific insects for pollination. Encryption isn’t a human invention—it’s part of the fundamental structure of the universe, a way to keep secrets, protect life, and transmit messages without exposing them to the entire world.

Humans, as part of nature, adopted this idea and turned it into an art. In prehistoric times, cave paintings were a form of encrypted communication—symbols that only the tribe understood, like an internal community code. As societies evolved and developed writing, encryption became a tool of power. It wasn’t just about hiding messages but also about building economies and public communication—systems where messages were transmitted openly, but only the intended recipients could decipher them.

Egypt and Mesopotamia: Encryption as a Symbol of Control

In ancient Egypt, around 1900 BCE, scribes carved unusual hieroglyphs on tomb walls—not to hide messages, but to create an aura of mystery that only priests could understand. This was cultural encryption, preserving the elite’s power. In Mesopotamia, around 1500 BCE, potters hid glaze recipes in simple codes to protect trade secrets. This is where the link between encryption and economics was born: secrets were worth money.

Public communication also played a role. Smoke signals, war drums, and bell chimes were ways to transmit messages openly, but only those who knew the code understood their meaning. This was a kind of “social cipher,” where communities created a shared language that protected them from outsiders or enemies. The economy relied on this trust—merchants could rely on their messages being secure, even as they passed through bustling markets.

The Greeks and Romans: Encryption as a Tool of War and Trade

The ancient Greeks turned encryption into a true art. In Sparta, in the 5th century BCE, they used the scytale—a wooden rod wrapped with a strip of leather bearing a message. Only someone with a rod of the same diameter could decipher it. It was simple yet brilliant—encryption that served the military while maintaining public communication, as the strip was openly carried by messengers.

In Rome, Julius Caesar developed the Caesar cipher, a method where each letter is shifted by a fixed number of positions in the alphabet. This allowed commanders to send orders on the battlefield without the enemy understanding. But encryption wasn’t just military; Roman merchants used simple ciphers to protect trade agreements from competitors. Their secrets—prices of goods, caravan routes—were their true currency. Public communication, like messengers shouting in markets or heralds announcing news, sometimes hid encrypted messages that only the intended understood.

The Middle Ages and Renaissance: Encryption as a Science of Power

In the 9th century, the Arab mathematician Al-Kindi revolutionized cryptography with frequency analysis—a method to break ciphers by analyzing the frequency of letters in a language. He showed that ciphers weren’t unbreakable, turning cryptography into a game of intellect. This impacted public communication: messengers carried encrypted messages through markets, knowing only the recipient would understand them. The economy relied on these secrets—merchants used encryption to protect international trade deals, like those involving spices or silk.

In the 15th century, Leon Battista Alberti, an Italian Renaissance man, invented the polyalphabetic cipher, where one letter could be replaced by multiple different letters, making it much harder to crack. This was used by diplomats and merchants to protect trade agreements between kingdoms. Encryption became a tool of global economics, where secrets were the key to successful deals. Public communication, like letters sent via royal mail, sometimes hid encrypted messages that were transmitted openly yet remained confidential.

The 19th Century: Encryption in the Age of Mass Communication

With the invention of the telegraph in the 19th century, public communication leapt forward. Messages were transmitted at unprecedented speed, but they were vulnerable to eavesdropping. Governments and merchants developed more complex ciphers, like the Vigenère cipher, which used long keys to protect commercial and military communication. Encryption became an integral part of the economy—governments used it to protect trade secrets, and merchants ensured secure deals.

Public communication also became a tool of power. Newspapers, which became widespread, served as a “public ledger”—a record of events that everyone could read, but sometimes hid encrypted messages. During the American Civil War, the Union and Confederate armies used innocent-looking newspaper ads to transmit secret messages, like battle plans or instructions for spies. This was a kind of “primitive blockchain”—a public record visible to all, but with hidden meaning for those who knew the code.

Why Does This Matter?

The history of encryption is a story of humanity trying to control secrets, communication, and power. From zebra stripes to Vigenère ciphers, encryption has always been a way to protect what matters—lives, goods, ideas. Public communication, like smoke signals or newspapers, showed that secrets could be hidden in plain sight, as long as you had the key. The economy was always intertwined with these secrets—merchants, kings, and diplomats used encryption to maintain an edge.

When we look at today’s crypto, we see the same ancient drive—to protect, to control, to dream. Encryption didn’t start with Bitcoin; it grew from nature, from our need to hide and reveal at the same time. But as we stand on the brink of the digital revolution, will we succeed in turning these secrets into something that serves everyone, or will we be left with digital dust?

Chapter 2: Value and Hype: The Economy of Trust and the Wars of Meaning

Systems of Trust: The Roots of the Economy

The human economy was built on trust—an unwritten agreement that allows us to exchange value, whether it’s grain, gold, or ideas. In prehistoric times, tribes traded goods like shells or flint tools, and trust was based on family ties or reputation. As societies evolved, trust became more complex. In Mesopotamia, around 3000 BCE, clay seals served as “signatures” on trade agreements, a kind of “primitive blockchain” that recorded transactions. Trust wasn’t just between individuals—it was between communities, kingdoms, and even gods.

The invention of money in the 7th century BCE in Lydia (modern-day Turkey) changed everything. Gold and silver coins became a symbol of shared trust—you didn’t need to know the merchant to trust their coin. But money also brought the first hype: counterfeit coins, inflation caused by diluting precious metals, and greed that led to economic collapses. Even then, the economy was a dance between trust and deception, between value and hype.

Prosperity and Crisis: The Cyclical Nature of Humanity

Human history is a story of waves—periods of prosperity where economies flourished, followed by crises of war, famine, and plague. In the Roman Empire, in the 2nd century CE, the “Pax Romana” brought unprecedented economic prosperity—vibrant markets, international trade routes, and coins that reached as far as India. But the hype around this abundance led to inflation, heavy taxes, and a gradual collapse in the 3rd century, as internal wars and barbarian invasions destroyed economic trust.

The Middle Ages brought new crises. The Black Death in the 14th century wiped out a third of Europe’s population, but it also created opportunities: labor shortages raised wages, and new merchants rose to prominence. The hype around trade expeditions, like the Silk Road, led to economic prosperity, but also to fierce competition and wars over trade routes. The economy was always tied to crises, but also to resilience—the ability of humanity to rise again.

The Stock Exchanges and Hype: The Birth of Modern Markets

In the 17th century, Holland became an economic superpower with the creation of the first stock exchange in Amsterdam in 1602. The Dutch East India Company (VOC) issued shares, and merchants began trading securities—an invention that changed the economy forever. But with the stock exchange came the first hype: the Tulip Mania in the 1630s, when tulip bulb prices soared to tens of thousands of guilders before crashing. This was the first financial bubble, where hype triumphed over trust, leaving many with “dust” instead of wealth.

The 18th century brought the Industrial Revolution, which made the economy global. Banks like the Bank of England (1694) became central institutions of trust, issuing paper notes backed by gold. But the hype continued: the South Sea Bubble in 1720 in Britain, where speculation on trade with America led to an economic crash. The modern economy was built on trust, but also on greed—a combination that made hype an inseparable part of markets.

The Enlightened Culture: The Search for Meaning, Justice, and Freedom

Alongside the rise of markets, human culture underwent a revolution. The Renaissance, Reformation, and Enlightenment in the 16th to 18th centuries brought a search for meaning beyond money. Thinkers like John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau spoke of individual freedom and the social contract, calling for shared trust between people and governments. The French Revolution (1789) and the American Revolution (1776) were attempts to build a “free world” where justice and freedom would triumph over the old power of kings.

But these revolutions also exposed the paradox of the economy: money and freedom don’t always go hand in hand. While the new elites spoke of justice, slavery and colonialism funded the West’s prosperity. The hype around the “free world” often hid the human cost of the economy.

The 20th Century: Wars, Ideologies, and Deep Questions

The 20th century brought humanity to new heights of prosperity—and to depths of destruction. The First and Second World Wars (1914-1918, 1939-1945) were economic and human crises, but they also spurred innovation. Modern banking evolved with the Bretton Woods agreements in 1944, which established the dollar as the global currency backed by gold. Stock exchanges, like Wall Street, became centers of power, and the hype around stock investments led to bubbles like the one in 1929, which triggered the Great Depression.

The 20th century also brought the great ideologies—capitalism, communism, socialism, fascism—each claiming to be the “right” way to distribute wealth and power. The Cold War (1947-1991) was not just a battle over territory, but over meaning: should humanity be driven by a free market or by central planning? But looking from above, is there really a difference? Capitalism created immense wealth, but also inequality; communism promised equality, but suppressed freedom. Both ideologies relied on the same thing: market forces and shared interests, even if packaged in different stories.

Deep Questions: Is It Time to Leave Ideologies Behind?

As we reach the end of the 20th century, a philosophical question arises: are the great ideologies really different from one another? They all tried to answer the same challenge—how to distribute value and power in a society where everyone shares the same fate on the same planet. Capitalism turned hype into an economic engine, but also created bubbles and inequality. Communism tried to enforce equality, but ignored human nature. Perhaps, as you suggest, it’s time to leave ideologies behind and recognize that humanity operates on a simpler basis: market forces and shared interests.

This isn’t a question of good or bad, optimism or pessimism. It’s about the “day-to-day grind”—the way we trade, invest, and fight for meaning. The economy of the 20th century showed us that trust is the real currency—whether it’s in gold coins, paper notes, or government promises. But it also showed us that hype can bring us down: bubbles like the Dutch tulips or the Great Depression were lessons about the danger of greed.

As we stand on the brink of the digital revolution, crypto emerges as the next chapter in this story. It promises decentralized trust, freedom from intermediaries, and an economy that belongs to everyone. But is it really different from the hypes of the past? Or will it, too, leave us with digital dust?

Chapter 3: The 20th Century of Everything: Chaos, Cryptography, and Globalization

The 1920s: The Boom and the Hype

The 20th century kicked off like a wild party. The 1920s, known as the “Roaring Twenties,” were a time of unprecedented prosperity in the United States. The economy soared, Wall Street buzzed, and enthusiasm for stock investments became a fever. People poured money into cars, radios, and even shady companies, believing the prosperity would never end. Banks handed out easy loans, and the public bought stocks in droves, as if money grew on trees. It was an economic bubble, driven by greed and a lack of understanding of the risks.

At the same time, cryptography started taking center stage. During World War I, ciphers like the German navy’s codebooks became critical for transmitting orders. The British developed methods to break ciphers, like the Zimmermann Telegram, which shifted the course of the war. Cryptography became not just a military tool but an economic one—governments used it to protect trade secrets and ensure economic stability.

The Crash of 1929: The Great Depression

The party ended in 1929 when the Wall Street stock market crashed. The “Black Tuesday” in October marked the start of the Great Depression—a crisis that plunged millions into poverty, shuttered banks, and shattered trust in markets. The U.S. Federal Reserve, established a few years earlier, raised interest rates to curb the frenzy, but this only worsened the situation, as consumption and investments collapsed. It took over a decade to figure out how to fix the economy. President Roosevelt introduced government programs for infrastructure and support for the vulnerable, but trust in markets recovered slowly.

This crisis revealed something profound about the economy: it’s not just about numbers, but psychology. When trust breaks, everything collapses. Cryptography, meanwhile, continued to evolve. Governments used ciphers to protect secret economic plans, like war budgets or trade agreements. Encryption became part of the effort to rebuild trust—not just between governments, but between people and markets.

Descent into War: Clashing Ideologies

The Great Depression fueled extreme ideologies. In Germany, the economic crisis aided the rise of the Nazis, who promised order and prosperity. In Russia, Stalin’s communism offered an alternative to capitalism, while suppressing individual freedom. Fascism, socialism, and capitalism collided, leading to World War II—the deadliest conflict in history, leaving tens of millions dead and economies in ruins.

Cryptography played a crucial role in this war. The German Enigma machine, which generated ciphers with millions of combinations, was considered unbreakable. But the British, led by Alan Turing, developed an early computer that cracked Enigma. This was a triumph of cryptography over power, showing how encryption could change history. Meanwhile, the Americans used ciphers based on Native American languages, like Navajo code, which were impossible to crack. Encryption became a tool of survival, but also of economic power—governments used it to protect resources and plans.

The World Rebuilt: The Cold War and the Global Market

After the war, the world rose from the ashes. International agreements in 1944 created a new economic order: the dollar became the global currency backed by gold, and institutions like the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank were established. The West, led by the United States, pushed capitalism and free markets, while the East, led by the Soviet Union, championed communism. The Cold War was not just a military struggle, but an economic one—a competition over who could build a more prosperous world.

The global market grew at a dizzying pace. The invention of the shipping container in the 1950s made international trade cheap and fast. Stock exchanges like Wall Street and Tokyo became centers of power, and the enthusiasm returned: in the 1980s, Japan’s real estate bubble and U.S. startup investments showed that markets hadn’t learned from the past. The economy became exponential, but also more fragile—crises like the one in 1987 revealed the new risks of globalization.

The Birth of the Internet: The Guiding Line to Crypto

At the same time, the internet was born as a guiding line to the future. In the 1960s, the U.S. Department of Defense developed a network connecting universities and research institutes. This was the foundation for the modern internet, which made communication global and instant. But with the internet came a problem: how do you protect information on an open network? This is where cryptography leapt forward. In the 1970s, researchers invented asymmetric encryption—a method where a public key is used for encryption and a private key for decryption. This enabled secure communication on insecure networks, becoming the foundation for e-commerce and dreams of digital money.

The cryptography of the 20th century wasn’t just about wars. It became an economic tool: banks used it to secure financial transfers, and companies developed ciphers to protect transactions. But the race to break ciphers continued. Governments invested billions in technologies to crack their rivals’ codes. Encryption became a silent war—not over territory, but over information and value.

Deep Questions: Toward Crypto

The 20th century was the revolution of everything—economy, communication, power. It showed us that markets can soar to the heavens and crash to the abyss, that ideologies can unite and destroy, and that cryptography is not just a technical tool, but a way to control trust. But it also left us with questions: Does the global market truly serve everyone, or only those who know how to play the game? Has the internet, which promised freedom, become a digital casino? And can cryptography, which served wars and markets, become a tool for liberty?

As we approach the end of the 20th century, crypto starts to emerge. The Cypherpunk movement, which believed encryption was the key to freedom, began dreaming of decentralized digital money. The internet and cryptography laid the groundwork for Bitcoin, but they also left us with that same digital dust—the grand promise, and the risk that it might blow away in the wind.

Chapter 4: The Great Decentralized Dream

Ancient Questions About Freedom

Since time immemorial, humanity has dreamed of freedom—freedom from regimes, intermediaries, and constraints. In ancient Greece, the philosopher Plato spoke of an ideal state where justice reigns, but also warned of the corrupting power of money. In the 17th century, John Locke argued that individual freedom is the basis of a just society. This dream—a system where everyone is equal, without rulers or intermediaries—reappeared time and again, sometimes as a philosophical idea, sometimes as a practical attempt.

An interesting example outside economics is Esperanto, an artificial language developed by Ludwik Zamenhof in 1887. Zamenhof dreamed of a global language that would unite humanity, crossing cultural borders and preventing conflicts. Esperanto didn’t become the world’s language, but its idea—a decentralized, accessible system without central control—echoed in later dreams, like that of crypto.

Early Attempts at Decentralized Money

In the late 20th century, as the internet became a playground for new ideas, a group of cryptographers from the Cypherpunk movement dreamed of creating decentralized digital money—a system that would free the economy from the control of banks, governments, and central institutions. They wanted money that was private, secure, and free from intermediaries. These attempts were pioneering but failed for various reasons—technical, social, or economic. Yet, they laid the foundations for Bitcoin. Let’s dive into the details of each project:

eCash and DigiCash (1982-1998)

David Chaum, an American cryptographer considered the father of digital privacy, published a groundbreaking paper in 1982 on “blind signatures”—a cryptographic method that allows transactions to be verified without revealing the parties’ identities. The idea was to create digital money that preserved anonymity, like physical cash. In 1989, Chaum founded DigiCash and launched eCash, a system where users could transfer digital money over the internet while maintaining privacy. The system used digital signatures and advanced cryptographic protocols to prevent fraud.

eCash required cooperation with banks, which served as intermediaries to verify transactions. Users would “load” digital money through a bank, and transactions were encrypted so the bank didn’t know who was behind them. This was an attempt to combine privacy with the traditional financial system. Chaum worked with banks in the U.S. and Germany, which implemented eCash in limited trials. He also influenced the Cypherpunk movement, which saw him as a pioneer of digital freedom.

But eCash wasn’t truly decentralized—it relied on central servers and banks, which were a bottleneck. The public wasn’t ready for digital money in the 1990s, and banks didn’t want to give up control. Chaum rejected a $100 million offer from a major company, believing his company was worth more, and in 1998, DigiCash went bankrupt. eCash showed that cryptography could protect privacy in digital transactions, but its failure highlighted the need for a fully decentralized system, independent of intermediaries.

B-Money (1998)

Wei Dai, a cryptographer and Cypherpunk member, published a theoretical proposal in 1998 for a decentralized digital currency called B-Money. He described a system where users sign transactions with cryptography, and the network is maintained by computational work that generates new money. Dai also proposed the idea of smart contracts—digital agreements automatically enforced by the network.

B-Money never came to fruition, but its theory included two models: one where users collaborate to maintain a shared ledger, and another where a small group of servers verifies transactions. Both relied on computational work to prevent fraud and ensure trust. Wei Dai was a key figure in the Cypherpunk community, and his proposal was published on their mailing list. He didn’t try to implement B-Money, leaving it as a theoretical idea.

B-Money remained on paper because there wasn’t enough technological infrastructure. The internet of 1998 couldn’t support a large-scale decentralized network, and the concept of computational work wasn’t developed enough to solve issues like double-spending. Satoshi Nakamoto cited B-Money as an inspiration in the Bitcoin whitepaper. The idea of computational work and smart contracts was critical to Bitcoin, showing that Dai foresaw the right direction.

Bit Gold (1998)

Nick Szabo, an American cryptographer and legal scholar, proposed Bit Gold in 1998—a digital currency system resembling physical gold. The goal was to create a decentralized, scarce currency independent of intermediaries. Bit Gold used computational work to “mine” units of money, and each unit was recorded in an encrypted public ledger.

Each user would solve a complex computational puzzle, and the solution served as proof of creating new money. Transactions were recorded in a shared ledger, and the network relied on consensus among users. Szabo, active in the Cypherpunk community, published the idea on his blog and in forums. He also developed the concept of smart contracts, which later became the basis for Ethereum.

Like B-Money, Bit Gold never came to fruition. The system required advanced technological infrastructure that didn’t exist in 1998, and it couldn’t fully solve the double-spending problem. Additionally, there wasn’t enough public interest in digital money at the time. Bit Gold was the closest to Bitcoin conceptually—computational work, public ledger, decentralization. Satoshi cited Bit Gold as an inspiration in his whitepaper, and many believe Szabo might be Satoshi, though he has denied it.

Hashcash (1997)

Adam Back, a British cryptographer and Cypherpunk member, developed Hashcash in 1997 as a method to prevent email spam. The idea was that sending an email would require solving a small computational puzzle, making mass spam too expensive in terms of computing power.

Hashcash used computational work: the sender had to create a “stamp” by solving a puzzle based on a hash function. The stamp proved they invested computing power, and the recipient could easily verify it. This wasn’t money, but a tool to protect digital communication. Back published Hashcash on the Cypherpunk mailing list, and the idea gained traction in the community. He didn’t intend to create a currency, but to solve a technical problem.

Hashcash didn’t fail as an anti-spam tool, but it didn’t become a currency because it wasn’t designed for that. However, the idea of computational work as “value” was groundbreaking. Satoshi cited Hashcash as a major inspiration in the Bitcoin whitepaper. The mechanism of computational work became the backbone of Bitcoin mining.

The Birth of Bitcoin: Satoshi’s Dream

These early attempts—eCash, B-Money, Bit Gold, and Hashcash—were like puzzle pieces. Satoshi Nakamoto, a mysterious figure whose identity remains unknown, took these pieces and assembled them into one system: Bitcoin. In late October 2008, Satoshi published a short paper on the Cypherpunk mailing list describing a decentralized digital money system that used a blockchain—a public ledger recording transactions—and computational work to solve the double-spending problem. It was a combination of Chaum’s (cryptographic privacy), Dai’s (computational work and smart contracts), Szabo’s (decentralized ledger), and Back’s (computational work) ideas.

In early January 2009, Satoshi mined the first Bitcoin block, known as the “genesis block.” He embedded a message in it: “The Times, 3 January 2009, Chancellor on brink of second bailout for banks.” This was a protest against the traditional financial system, which crashed in the 2008 economic crisis. Bitcoin wasn’t just technology; it was a political statement about economic freedom.

In the early years, from 2009 to 2010, Satoshi worked with a small community on the Bitcointalk forum, which became the hub for Bitcoin discussions. He wrote code, fixed bugs, and explained his vision. Among others, he corresponded with developers like Hal Finney, who received the first Bitcoin transaction of ten units in January 2009. On May 22, 2010, Laszlo Hanyecz bought two pizzas for 10,000 Bitcoin—the first commercial transaction in Bitcoin’s history, worth billions today. Satoshi supported such transactions but warned against turning Bitcoin into speculation. He wrote on the forum: “I think it would be wiser if it stayed small and grew gradually.”

Satoshi’s Departure and the Mystery of His Identity

In December 2010, Satoshi began reducing his involvement. He posted less on the forum and handed over code control to developers like Gavin Andresen. His last known message on Bitcointalk, in December 2010, discussed technical improvements and said: “There’s still a lot of work to do on defending against attacks, but I’m pretty satisfied with the current state.” He disappeared completely in 2011, after writing an email to Gavin Andresen: “I’ve moved on to other things. It’s in good hands with Gavin and others.” There were no clear hints about his intentions, but his message was consistent: Bitcoin should be decentralized, independent of any single person.

Who was Satoshi? This mystery became one of the great questions of the 21st century. Satoshi claimed to be Japanese, but his perfect English and use of British terms raised doubts about his nationality. He holds, by estimates, about one million Bitcoin—worth tens of billions of dollars today—but has never used them. Here are some of the main theories about his identity:

Nick Szabo

Szabo, the creator of Bit Gold, wrote about ideas very similar to Bitcoin as early as 1998. Linguistic analysis of Satoshi’s paper shows similarities to Szabo’s writing style, and he was active in the Cypherpunk community. Szabo has repeatedly denied being Satoshi, claiming he only contributed ideas. There’s no conclusive evidence…

Chapter 5: The Rise and the Dip of the Crypto Dream

The Bitcoin Boom: From Fringe to Mainstream

By the early 2010s, Bitcoin was no longer just a niche experiment for tech enthusiasts. It began to capture the imagination of a broader audience. Between 2011 and 2013, Bitcoin’s price surged from a few dollars to over $1,000, driven by growing interest from early adopters, libertarians, and speculators. Online marketplaces like the Silk Road, where Bitcoin was used to buy everything from illegal goods to rare collectibles, showcased its potential as a currency free from government control. But this freedom came with a dark side—Bitcoin became associated with black markets, drawing scrutiny from regulators.

At the same time, the crypto community grew. Forums like Bitcointalk buzzed with debates about scaling Bitcoin, improving privacy, and building a new financial system. Developers proposed solutions like the Lightning Network to make Bitcoin transactions faster and cheaper. The hype was palpable: Bitcoin was hailed as “digital gold,” a store of value that could rival traditional assets. By 2017, the price soared to nearly $20,000, fueled by retail investors, media frenzy, and the rise of Initial Coin Offerings (ICOs)—crowdfunding campaigns where new tokens were sold to fund crypto projects.

The ICO Madness: Hype Over Substance

The ICO boom of 2017-2018 was a turning point. Thousands of projects raised billions by issuing tokens, promising everything from decentralized social networks to blockchain-based healthcare. Ethereum, launched in 2015 by Vitalik Buterin, became the backbone of this frenzy. Its smart contract platform allowed anyone to create a token with a few lines of code, leading to an explosion of projects—many of which were scams or overhyped ideas with no substance.

The ICO craze was a classic bubble. Investors poured money into projects with flashy whitepapers but no working products. Stories of overnight millionaires fueled FOMO (fear of missing out), and the media amplified the hype. But by 2018, the bubble burst. Most ICOs failed to deliver, and their tokens became worthless. Regulators cracked down, with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) labeling many ICOs as unregistered securities. The crypto market crashed, with Bitcoin dropping to $3,000 and countless altcoins evaporating.

The Rise of Altcoins and Ethereum’s Dominance

Despite the crash, the crypto dream didn’t die. Ethereum emerged as a powerhouse, offering more than just a currency. Its smart contracts enabled decentralized applications (dApps), from lending platforms to digital art marketplaces. Projects like Chainlink, which connected blockchains to real-world data, and Polkadot, which aimed to link different blockchains, showed that crypto was evolving beyond Bitcoin.

Altcoins—alternative cryptocurrencies—proliferated. Some, like Litecoin and Ripple, aimed to improve on Bitcoin’s limitations. Others, like Dogecoin, started as jokes but gained cult followings. By 2020, the market was buzzing again, with new narratives: decentralized finance (DeFi), which promised banking without banks, and non-fungible tokens (NFTs), which turned digital art and collectibles into blockchain-based assets.

The 2021 Boom: Crypto Goes Pop

The crypto market exploded again in 2020-2021, driven by global events. The COVID-19 pandemic and government stimulus packages flooded markets with liquidity, pushing investors toward riskier assets. Bitcoin hit $69,000 in November 2021, and Ethereum reached $4,800. Celebrities like Elon Musk and Mark Cuban endorsed crypto, while companies like Tesla and MicroStrategy added Bitcoin to their balance sheets. NFTs became a cultural phenomenon, with digital artworks selling for millions at auctions.

Social media platforms like Twitter and Reddit fueled the frenzy. Communities like r/WallStreetBets, originally focused on stocks, embraced crypto, pumping coins like Dogecoin and Shiba Inu. Meme coins—tokens with no fundamental value—became a symbol of the era, driven by viral tweets and TikTok videos. The crypto community was no longer just tech geeks; it included artists, gamers, and everyday people chasing the dream of quick wealth.

The 2022 Crash: The Dust Settles

The party couldn’t last. In 2022, the crypto market crashed again. Bitcoin fell below $20,000, Ethereum dropped to $1,000, and many altcoins lost 90% of their value. Several factors triggered the collapse: rising interest rates drained liquidity from markets, exposing overleveraged projects. Major players like Terra-Luna and FTX imploded. Terra’s stablecoin, UST, lost its peg to the dollar, wiping out $40 billion in value. FTX, a leading exchange, collapsed amid fraud allegations, with its founder Sam Bankman-Fried facing legal battles.

The crash wasn’t just financial—it was a crisis of trust. The crypto community, once united by idealism, fractured. Investors who lost life savings felt betrayed by influencers and projects that promised the moon. Scams, like “rug pulls” where developers abandoned projects after raising funds, became rampant. The term “Web3,” which promised a decentralized internet, began to feel like a hollow buzzword. The dream of a fairer financial system seemed buried in digital dust.

Lessons from the Fall

The 2022 crash taught hard lessons. Crypto wasn’t immune to human nature—greed, hype, and naivety drove both its rises and falls. Yet, it also showed resilience. Bitcoin and Ethereum survived, and developers continued building. Projects like Polygon and Arbitrum improved blockchain scalability, while DeFi platforms like Aave and Uniswap offered real utility. The crash weeded out weak projects, leaving room for those with genuine potential.

But the deeper question remained: could crypto deliver on its promise of decentralization, or was it just a new kind of casino? The community was split—some saw the crash as a cleansing fire, others as proof that the dream was flawed. As the dust settled, one thing was clear: crypto wasn’t going away, but it needed to grow up.

Chapter 6: The Crypto Cowboys and the New Wild West

The Rise of the Crypto Cowboys

The 2022 crash didn’t kill crypto—it birthed a new breed of players: the crypto cowboys. These were the traders, developers, and influencers who thrived in the chaos, embracing the volatility as part of the game. Unlike the early idealists who dreamed of a decentralized utopia, the cowboys saw crypto as an opportunity—a Wild West where fortunes could be made or lost in a single tweet.

Social media became their battleground. Platforms like Twitter (later X) and TikTok turned influencers into market movers. Figures like “Crypto Bro” and “BitBoy” amassed millions of followers, hyping tokens with promises of “to the moon.” Their catchphrases—“HODL” (hold on for dear life) and “wen lambo?”—became memes that defined the era. These cowboys weren’t just trading; they were building personal brands, monetizing attention through YouTube streams, Discord servers, and paid promotions.

The "Meme-Coin" Mania

Meme coins took center stage in this new Wild West. Dogecoin, originally a joke created in 2013, became a cultural phenomenon, pumped by Elon Musk’s tweets and Reddit rallies. Shiba Inu, dubbed the “Dogecoin killer,” followed suit, reaching a market cap of billions. Newer meme coins like Pepe and Wojak emerged, driven by internet culture and viral marketing. These tokens had no utility—they were pure speculation, fueled by FOMO and the hope of catching the next big pump.

Platforms like Solana, with its fast transactions and low fees, became the playground for meme coins. Traders, dubbed “snipers,” used bots to buy tokens at launch, hoping to sell at a peak. But the game was risky—many fell victim to “rug pulls,” where developers hyped a token, raised funds, and then disappeared. Despite the scams, meme coins became a cultural force, blending humor, rebellion, and the dream of quick riches.

The Role of Influencers: Heroes or Hustlers?

Influencers were the sheriffs and outlaws of this Wild West. Some, like Vitalik Buterin, remained respected for their technical contributions. Others, like Logan Paul and Jake Paul, faced backlash for promoting questionable projects. The line between genuine enthusiasm and paid shilling blurred. Influencers often disclosed “not financial advice” while hyping tokens to millions, leaving followers to bear the losses when projects crashed.

The community’s trust in influencers eroded. Stories of “pump-and-dump” schemes—where influencers bought tokens, hyped them, and sold at the peak—became common. Yet, the cowboys kept riding, and the audience kept watching. The allure of quick wealth was too strong, even as scams multiplied.

The Technology Keeps Evolving

Amid the chaos, blockchain technology continued to advance. Ethereum’s upgrades, like sharding and proof-of-stake, made it more efficient. Layer-2 solutions like Optimism and Arbitrum reduced transaction costs, making DeFi more accessible. Projects like Chainlink provided reliable data feeds for smart contracts, while Polkadot and Cosmos worked on interoperability between blockchains.

Beyond finance, blockchain found real-world uses. Supply chain companies used it for transparency, artists tokenized their work as NFTs, and governments explored central bank digital currencies (CBDCs). The technology proved its staying power, even as the market’s volatility gave critics ammunition to call crypto a scam.

The Cultural Shift: A New Kind of Rebellion

The crypto cowboys weren’t just chasing money—they were part of a cultural shift. Crypto became a rebellion against traditional finance, big tech, and centralized power. It attracted misfits, dreamers, and skeptics who saw the old system as broken. But this rebellion had a dark side: the same freedom that empowered individuals also enabled scams and manipulation.

The community was a mix of idealists and opportunists. Some believed in crypto’s potential to democratize finance; others saw it as a game to exploit. The Wild West metaphor was apt—crypto was lawless, exciting, and dangerous. As the market recovered from 2022, the cowboys kept riding, but the question loomed: could they build something lasting, or would they leave only digital dust?

Looking Ahead

The crypto cowboys embodied the spirit of the era—bold, reckless, and unapologetic. They turned crypto into a cultural phenomenon, but also exposed its flaws. The technology was advancing, but human nature—greed, hope, and chaos—remained the driving force. As the Wild West expanded, the community faced a choice: embrace the chaos or build a more stable future. The answer would determine whether crypto could transcend its reputation as a speculative casino.

Chapter 7: The Blockchain Dance: From Web3 to Web4 and the Loss of Trust

The Promise of Web3: A Decentralized Dream

The early 2010s brought a new buzzword to the crypto world: Web3. It was pitched as the next evolution of the internet—a decentralized network where users, not corporations, controlled data, money, and identity. Blockchain was the backbone of this vision, with smart contracts and NFTs (non-fungible tokens) promising a new economy. Projects like Ethereum led the charge, enabling decentralized finance (DeFi) platforms like Uniswap and Aave, which offered lending and trading without banks. NFTs turned digital art and collectibles into unique assets, with sales like Beeple’s $69 million artwork in 2021 making headlines.

The Web3 narrative was intoxicating: a world free from Big Tech’s grip, where creators could monetize directly, and communities could govern themselves. Crypto enthusiasts dreamed of a “trustless” system, where code replaced middlemen. But as the hype grew, so did the cracks. Many Web3 projects were more about speculation than utility. NFT collections like Bored Ape Yacht Club became status symbols, driven by hype rather than substance. DeFi platforms promised high yields but often collapsed under hacks or mismanagement.

The 2022 Crash: A Reality Check

The crypto crash of 2022 was a brutal wake-up call. Bitcoin plummeted from $69,000 to under $20,000, Ethereum dropped to $1,000, and countless altcoins lost nearly all their value. High-profile failures like Terra-Luna, whose stablecoin UST collapsed, and FTX, a major exchange accused of fraud, shook the industry. Billions in investor funds vanished, and the dream of Web3 began to look like a mirage.

The crash exposed the fragility of the crypto ecosystem. Many projects were built on shaky foundations—overleveraged, poorly coded, or outright scams. “Rug pulls,” where developers hyped a project, raised funds, and then disappeared, became a defining feature of the era. The community, once united by a shared vision, fractured. Bitcoin “maximalists” mocked those who invested in altcoins, while altcoin promoters ridiculed naive investors. Social media platforms like Twitter (now X) became battlegrounds for tribal wars, with influencers and anon accounts slinging insults and shilling tokens.

The Dark Side of Decentralization

The promise of decentralization—freedom from central control—had a dark side. Without gatekeepers, the crypto space became a breeding ground for scams. Projects like SafeMoon and Bitconnect promised massive returns but left investors with nothing. Stories emerged of “crypto cults” in places like Cambodia and Dubai, where people were trapped in marketing schemes, promoting scams for promises of wealth. The term “decentralized” often became a cover for a lawless world, where human nature—greed, dishonesty, and recklessness—called the shots.

The loss of mutual respect was palpable. Early crypto communities, like those on Bitcointalk, were driven by idealism—a belief in financial and technological freedom. But as the market grew, it attracted speculators, hustlers, and influencers who sold empty promises. The Celsius Network collapse in 2022, where the platform’s high-yield promises led to billions in losses, was a stark example. Its CEO, Alex Mashinsky, faced accusations of mismanagement, leaving customers feeling betrayed by the “decentralized banking” dream.

Web4.0 and Worldcoin: Vision or Dystopia?

Amid the chaos, a new term emerged: Web4.0. If Web3 was about decentralization, Web4.0 was pitched as a fusion of blockchain, artificial intelligence, and virtual reality—an internet where digital identity was central. Projects like Worldcoin, launched by Sam Altman (OpenAI’s founder) in 2023, promised a revolution: scanning everyone’s iris to create a verified digital identity, preventing scams and enabling universal basic income through tokens. It sounded like a crypto dream—or a dystopian nightmare.

The community split. Some saw Worldcoin as a genuine attempt to solve identity issues in a decentralized world; others viewed it as another scam or, worse, a tool for mass surveillance. Iris scanning raised privacy concerns, and Worldcoin’s token was dismissed by some as just another “shitcoin” with big promises and little delivery. People kept betting on it, while others asked: “Who the hell is Worldcoin?”—echoing an old rock song about “Alice.”

Speaking of Alice, projects like ALICE (MyNeighborAlice), which promised virtual worlds with NFT-based digital real estate, became symbols of the era. At inflated prices, people bought “islands” and “farms” only to find the game barely existed, and the value vanished. Like many others, ALICE became synonymous with shattered hopes.

The Loss of Mutual Respect

Beyond financial losses, the 2022 crash revealed something deeper: a loss of mutual respect in the crypto community. In the early days of Bitcointalk, the community was driven by idealism—a dream of economic and technological freedom. But as the market grew, it attracted speculators, scammers, and influencers selling empty promises. Bitcoin maximalists mocked altcoin investors, while shitcoin promoters laughed at the naive buyers of their tokens. Debates turned into Twitter wars (or X wars), and the community splintered into tribes that distrusted each other.

The Celsius story is a case in point. The company promised high returns on crypto deposits but collapsed in 2022, leaving investors with billions in losses. Its CEO, Alex Mashinsky, was accused of mismanagement, and customers felt betrayed by someone who promised “decentralized banking.” The community, once united by brotherhood, became an arena of mutual accusations.

Questions for the Future: Where to From Here?

The 2022 crash didn’t end crypto—it changed it. Trust eroded, and the community faced tough questions: Can blockchain truly create a fairer world, or is it just a digital casino? Will Web3, Web4, or whatever number comes next, fulfill the decentralized dream, or will governments and corporations swallow it? And can the community rebuild the mutual respect that was once the heart of the vision?

There were glimmers of hope. Projects like Polygon and Arbitrum continued developing solutions to make Ethereum transactions cheaper, showing blockchain’s potential. Small communities, like those building decentralized finance (DeFi), kept dreaming of a world without intermediaries. But the digital dust of 2022 remained a painful reminder: big dreams come with big risks, and human nature—with all its greed and naivety—sets the rules.

The term “Web4.0” remained elusive, like a promise unfulfilled. Worldcoin, ALICE, and other projects became stories of what could have been—or what was never real to begin with. As an old rock song asked, “Who the hell is Alice?”—so too does crypto ask: What is this dream, and where is it taking us? The blockchain dance continues, but the questions remain open, and the dust hasn’t settled.

Chapter 8: Degenocracy – The Return of the Empire of Nonsense

Crypto’s Revival: From Ashes to Mainstream

Crypto, like a digital phoenix, rose from the ashes of the 2022 crash. The years that followed were a time of recovery, maturation, and renewed madness—but with a bitter taste of lessons not fully learned. The blockchain world didn’t disappear; it integrated into the global economy, blended with cultural hype, and became an inseparable part of the 21st-century chaos. The “degens”—those dreamers, speculators, and gambling enthusiasts who rode the highs, crashed in the lows, and licked their wounds quietly—were the ones who triumphed. Not because they were smarter, but because they understood that crypto isn’t just about money; it’s about the journey, the game, the joy in the madness. But alongside the celebration, a new empire of nonsense emerged—a world of memecoins, influencers, and an “attention economy” where promises are big, trust is small, and the questions are deeper than ever. Let’s dive into the degenocratic dance of the years post-2022, a period when crypto became a mirror of society—with all its dreams, desires, and absurdities.

Recovery from the Crash: Crypto Goes Mainstream

After the 2022 crash, when Bitcoin plummeted from $70,000 to under $20,000, and Ethereum, Solana, and Cardano crashed alongside it, many thought crypto was done. But like any good story, the end was just a new beginning. In 2023 and 2024, the market recovered. Bitcoin returned to levels of $50,000 and $60,000, driven by institutional adoption—companies like BlackRock and Fidelity launched Bitcoin ETFs, turning it into a “respectable” asset on Wall Street. Ethereum grew with upgrades like “The Merge,” which made it more energy-efficient, and projects like Solana regained hype with faster applications.

But the recovery wasn’t just financial; it was cultural. Crypto became part of the mainstream. Companies like PayPal and Visa expanded support for crypto payments, and places like Dubai and Singapore became global crypto hubs, hosting lavish conferences in luxury hotels where influencers, traders, and entrepreneurs competed for attention. Money flowed—not always into real value, but into tourism, parties, and luxury brands. Crypto became a global party, where the winners were those who enjoyed the ride, not necessarily those who held onto their wealth.

The “degens”—those who lived through the ups and downs—were the real heroes. They weren’t necessarily the most moral or generous; among them were stingy speculators, starry-eyed dreamers, and even small-time hustlers. But they understood something: in crypto, as in life, the journey is the point. Those who burned millions on yachts in Dubai or conferences in Vegas at least had fun. In contrast, those who thought they were funding a revolution but found themselves—intentionally or not—supporting shady causes, like financing conflicts in the Middle East, ended up not just with empty wallets, but with heavy consciences.

The Post-COVID World: Tensions and Wars

The world after the COVID-19 pandemic was chaotic. Political and social tensions exploded—as if everyone was angry at everyone else, with no clear reason. Wars flared, old animosities resurfaced, and humanity found itself stuck in a familiar cycle of conflict. Temporary ceasefires, like the one we note in 2025, were like brief breaths before the next dive. The dream of the “free world”—the one that escaped Egypt thousands of years ago or fled corrupt Europe to build a new America—proved elusive. Crypto, which promised digital freedom, wasn’t much different: it swapped the Egyptian slavers or the Catholic Church for new overlords—corporations, influencers, and mining pools that controlled the networks.

The community, once dreaming of decentralization, found itself dependent on figures like Changpeng Zhao (CZ) of Binance, who became an unofficial king of crypto until he pleaded guilty to money laundering and was jailed for four months in 2024, or Sam Bankman-Fried, who promised a revolution and was sentenced to 25 years for fraud. The decentralized became centralized, and the dream of freedom became a game of power.

Deep Trends: The Crowd Isn’t Smart, But It Runs

If anything was proven in the years after 2022, it’s that the crypto crowd isn’t always smart—but it always runs. Projects like Tron, led by Justin Sun, were a perfect example. Tron, which promised to decentralize the internet, became a hype machine that raised billions despite unclear real value. Sun, an influencer with a flair for media stunts, bought NFT exchanges like OpenSea and launched new tokens, drawing crowds with big promises and provocative tweets. The crowd, driven by chart movements, ran after him—even when it wasn’t clear where to.

The memecoin fever, especially on networks like Solana, reached new heights. Dogecoin and Shiba Inu continued to surge on waves of attention, but newer tokens like Pepe and Wojak emerged as jokes that turned into billions. Solana, with its speed and low fees, became a playground for memecoins, where traders—called “snipers”—tried to catch the next pump. But many fell victim to “rug pulls,” where developers abandoned projects, leaving investors with worthless tokens.

The trends showed one thing: crypto became a competitive sport. Traders, developers, and “farmers” (who sought yields in liquidity pools) competed for the title of “who’s the best.” Influencers like Murad, who became cult figures, preached that memecoins were “the new religion”—but only if they “created value.” It was emotional marketing dressed up in grand promises. Murad, who one moment claimed memecoins would save the world and the next admitted it was all a competition, symbolized the cultural chaos of the era. Crypto became an “attention economy,” where charts, tweets, and TikTok videos set prices more than technology or vision.

The Road to "Pump-Fun"

Amid all the nonsense, one project stood out as a symbol of the new madness: Pump.fun. Launched on Solana in 2024, this platform turned memecoin creation into child’s play. For a few dollars, anyone could launch a token with a ridiculous name—like “CatInABox” or “MoonLad”—and hope the community would chase it. Pump.fun became a hit: in 2024, it recorded trading volumes of billions, becoming the central engine of crypto hype. It was the democratization of scams—or perhaps of creativity, depending on who you ask.

Pump.fun’s method was simple yet brilliant: it enabled rapid token launches with automatic liquidity pools that attracted traders. But it also exposed the absurdity: most tokens were worthless within hours, and the game was to catch the pump before it turned into a dump. Pump.fun left entire crypto sectors—like “real-world assets” (RWA), gaming, and even AI projects—far behind. Memecoins, with AI agents creating viral content, became the new kings of the scene. The community became addicted to finding the next “narrative”—the story that would make a token soar—or reading the charts correctly.

This phenomenon revealed a deeper trend: crypto became a race for speed, attention, and the ability to spot the hype before everyone else. Traders were called “snipers,” developers became “degen developers” churning out code quickly, and farmers hunted yields in liquidity pools. Influencers, always stressing they were “not giving financial advice,” dominated the conversation, turning crypto into a voyeuristic content world where the right video at the right time could turn a worthless token into millions.

Deep Trends: Society and Economy Transform

Crypto wasn’t just about money; it reflected our society. After COVID, the world became a place of polarization, distrust, and a search for meaning. Crypto offered an escape—a world where anyone could become a millionaire, or at least feel like one for a moment. But it also exposed our weaknesses: addiction to hype, impatience, and a tendency to chase big numbers. Projects like Tron and Pump.fun showed that the crowd doesn’t always seek real value; it seeks movement, excitement, and the promise of a pump.

The deeper trends were clear:

- Attention Economy: Crypto became a game where the winner was the one who grabbed the most eyes. Influencers, viral videos, and timed tweets were stronger than complex algorithms.

- Democratization of Risk: Platforms like Pump.fun let anyone become a “crypto entrepreneur,” but also made scams more accessible. Scams were no longer the domain of professional hustlers; they became part of the game.

- Return to Idealism? Despite the chaos, there were glimmers of hope. Small communities continued developing projects like DeFi and Layer-2 solutions aimed at making blockchain more efficient. Some dreamed of returning to Satoshi’s original vision—a decentralized world where trust relies on code, not people.

Summary: The Empire of Nonsense Keeps Dancing

The crypto of post-2022 was a story of recovery and maturation, but also of glorious nonsense. The “degens”—those who enjoyed the game, the ups and downs—were the true winners. They didn’t necessarily keep their wealth, but they lived the dream, laughed along the way, and turned crypto into a cultural phenomenon. In contrast, those seeking deeper meaning—whether in economic freedom or technological revolution—often faced disappointment.

The empire of nonsense continues to dance, with memecoins, influencers, and platforms like Pump.fun injecting new energy. But the questions remain: Is crypto truly the path to freedom, or just a sophisticated digital casino? Can we build a world where trust relies on code, not greed? And will we escape the digital Egypt, or keep dancing in a desert of dust and traps? The dance continues, and the mirror on the wall still hasn’t answered: Who’s the fairest scammer in town?

Chapter 9: ETF Fun? – The Live Chaos of Pump.Fun and the Shadow of the Next Explosion

Crypto is a digital circus, with blinding spotlights, roaring crowds, and slippery floors that trip up the naive.

In 2024-2025, Pump.Fun became the main act—a platform that tossed out memecoins like candy to the crowd but also sparked scandals with live streams that turned crypto into a wrestling ring. Meanwhile, Bitcoin and Ethereum ETFs opened the door to Wall Street, raising the question: what happens when millions want to cash out their profits? This is Chapter 9—a story of gambling, scams, and technology that keeps reshaping the world, with the shadow of another explosion looming overhead. The big question: how bad will it be?

Pump-Fun: Democratization or Chaos?

Remember Pump.Fun from the last chapter? They promised “democratization” of crypto but delivered something more like “degenocracy”—a mix of creativity, scams, and hype. In 2024, they launched their live feature, streaming broadcasts where memecoin creators promoted their tokens. The idea was simple: attention equals money. The result? Pure chaos. Users streamed everything—from threats of self-harm to draw viewers, to racist and violent content, to live confessions of scams. Case in point? The creator of the “SHILLBOY” token admitted on stream that he planned to run off with the money, leaving investors with millions in losses. On X, stories spread about users using live streams to spark FOMO (fear of missing out), leading to 500% pumps followed by crashes.

These scandals exposed the naked truth: Pump.Fun became a casino where only 1-2% of users—mostly creators and influencers—profited, while the majority lost everything. A 2025 study showed that small investors, caught up in the hype, were left with worthless tokens or vanished liquidity pools. The community started using tools like Dune Analytics to spot scams, but the damage was done. In March 2025, Pump.Fun added strict content rules, but kept rolling out new features almost daily, like “King of the Hill,” which ranked popular tokens, continuing to draw crowds with its controversial creativity.

Who’s behind Pump.Fun? That’s a tough question. The platform operates decentrally, with no official company or public offices. The developers, known by pseudonyms like “Team Pump” on X, remain anonymous. Rumors in 2025 claimed the team operated from places like Dubai or Singapore, but there’s no proof. Some in the community see this as part of crypto’s charm—true decentralization. Others suspect it hides shady intentions. What’s certain: Pump.Fun keeps reinventing itself, like a circus changing its show every other day.

ETFs: Mainstream and the Trap

Bitcoin and Ethereum ETFs, approved in the U.S. in 2024, made crypto accessible to the masses. There are plenty of funds—from giants like BlackRock’s IBIT ($54 billion in assets) and Fidelity Wise Origin Bitcoin Trust ($19.17 billion) to smaller ones like WisdomTree’s BTCW (daily trading volume of about $10 million) or Franklin Templeton’s EZBC (about $15 million). In Israel, Bitcoin-tracking ETFs launched in late 2024, with management fees of 0.20%-0.65%, following indices like the CME CF Bitcoin Reference Rate.

But when you look at the smaller funds, trouble brews. ETFs like BTCW or Invesco’s BTCO, with low trading volumes ($10-20 million daily), could face liquidity issues if investors rush to cash out. Imagine this scenario: Bitcoin spikes to $200,000 next week, stays there for two days, then crashes back to $107,000 (its price in June 2025). How many will manage to lock in profits in those two days? Not many. Funds with low trading volumes can’t handle mass redemptions, especially if the spike happens over a weekend when trading is thin. Networks like Bitcoin and Solana already showed signs of strain in 2025, with transaction delays during peak trading on Pump.Fun.

What could cause liquidity issues? First, low trading volumes in smaller funds, limiting the ability to sell quickly. Second, network congestion on blockchains, which can delay coin transfers from funds to custodians. Third, crowd behavior: FOMO can push investors to redeem simultaneously, creating a domino effect. Such a scenario could lead to a bubble bursting—prices soaring then crashing, with investors dreaming of profits stuck in a long digital queue.

The Voices: A Cacophony of Opinions

The community is full of voices—from anonymous X influencers promising “moon” for memecoins to analysts warning of volatility. Everyone’s talking, and no one really knows. Some predict Bitcoin will hit $200,000, others say the market will stagnate for years. Some see ETFs as crypto’s final stamp of legitimacy, while others fear they create reliance on firms like BlackRock, contradicting the spirit of decentralization. There’s always the fear of a black swan event triggering sharp drops, but this noise—the endless diversity of opinions—is what drives crypto. There’s no single answer, just a chorus of voices shouting together.

We? We think crypto is a story of passion and risk. Pump.Fun is a perfect example: it gives power to create but also invites scams. ETFs open doors, but smaller ones could trap investors dreaming of quick profits. If Bitcoin spikes to $200,000 and stays there for two days, maybe a few thousand will cash out through big funds like IBIT, but in smaller funds? Most investors will find themselves waiting, especially on a weekend when trading is thin and networks are clogged.

The Technology: The Heart That Keeps Beating

Blockchain is the true star. It simplifies processes—from verifying transactions to smart contracts—replacing centralized authorities like banks. Projects like Polygon and Arbitrum keep lowering transaction costs, and companies like IBM use blockchain for supply chains. Whether crypto is expensive or cheap, the technology is here to stay.

Where Is This Going?

Pump.Fun is a mirror of crypto: creative, chaotic, and full of risks. ETFs bring legitimacy, but the smaller ones could trap investors chasing quick gains. The market might soar, stagnate, or explode—and no one knows when. But crypto keeps dancing, between the crowd’s cheers and the shadow of the next explosion. The question isn’t just how bad it will be, but who will manage to cash out before the music stops.

Chapter 10: The Fastest American

Heroes, Hustlers, or Just Weirdos? Sketches of Some of Crypto’s Most Infamous Influencers

Crypto started as a grand dream: a decentralized financial system, free from intermediaries, transparent, and just. Satoshi Nakamoto, the mysterious figure who created Bitcoin in 2009, envisioned a world where trust was built on code, not banks or governments. But somewhere along the way, that dream turned into a giant video game—a digital casino where everyone tries to outsmart everyone else, and the grand promise got buried under a thick layer of digital dust. This is a story of a hidden class war, the collapse of the old elite’s facade, and a new generation of digital cowboys riding waves of hype. At the center stands a figure like Leland Faust—“the fastest solo American across 50 states”—a cultural hero or anti-hero embodying crypto’s paradox. And why did Satoshi walk away, leaving behind a million Bitcoin? Let’s dive in.

A Hidden Class War: The Collapse of the Old Facade

Crypto isn’t just technology; it’s a cultural phenomenon exposing deep societal fractures. In the old world, academic, professional, and financial elites ran the show. Wall Street bankers, professors with degrees, and suited-up investment advisors decided who won and who lost. But crypto changed the rules. It gave power to a new generation—young, impatient, often without formal education—who became “digital cowboys.” They didn’t need a Harvard degree or a Swiss bank account; they needed a digital wallet, an internet connection, and a bit of chutzpah.

This is a hidden class war: the old versus the new, the traditional versus the revolutionary. The old elites are losing their facade because crypto made the game more democratic—but also more chaotic. When everyone can be an “investor” or “promoter,” power disperses, but so does responsibility. The result? A market where the promise of equality becomes a game of “who scams first.”

The “Influencer”: Cultural Hero or Anti-Hero

At the heart of this story is Leland Faust, a figure embodying the spirit of these new cowboys. He’s not just a guy who broke a record for the fastest solo drive across 50 American states; he’s a symbol of rebellion—a man who dismantles conventions with blunt language, a macho attitude, and a rapper-gangster rage hiding a creative, sensitive personality. Faust isn’t Robin Hood; he doesn’t steal from the rich to give to the poor. He’s not a prophet or a herald of truth either. He’s just a guy who saw an opportunity, seized it, and turned it into a brand.

But why didn’t the crowd connect with his streams? Why did the trading community, thriving on drama and hype, not fully embrace him? The answer lies in crypto’s paradox: people love the idea of rebellion but don’t always vibe with its representatives. Faust’s style—absurd, macho, angry—is like a mirror showing the crowd itself: a bit confused, a bit angry, a bit searching for meaning in a chaotic world. Instead of cheering him on, the crowd prefers to mute him and chase the next hype.

Normalization of the Rug Pull? Video Game or New Culture?

The community that did connect with Faust isn’t the mainstream but a small group of eccentric, poetic traders and snipers—those who see crypto not as an investment or gamble, but as a game. In recent years, the rug pull—where token developers pump a project and then vanish with the funds—has almost become normal. It’s no longer seen as a crime, but as part of the game. As you said, it’s no different from a guy blowing all his money on basketball or hockey—it’s a hobby, a competition for the title, not the money itself.

This normalization is a fascinating and troubling cultural phenomenon. When something like a rug pull becomes a “memecoin”—a token with no intrinsic value, existing just for laughs—it’s hard to blame anyone. If everyone knows it’s a game, how can you fault those playing by the rules? It’s like getting mad at someone for buying a lottery ticket and losing. But it also shows how far we’ve strayed from crypto’s original vision: instead of a system that liberates us, we have a casino where the “simple thieves”—promoters, traders, and even small investors—try to outsmart each other.

Why Did Satoshi Walk Away and “Burn” His Million Bitcoin?

Satoshi Nakamoto, Bitcoin’s founding father, vanished from the scene in 2011, leaving behind about a million Bitcoin—worth billions today—untouched. An urban legend claims he “burned” them to “at least set a floor for Bitcoin,” preventing market flooding and ensuring stable value. But the truth is likely simpler: Satoshi saw where the wind was blowing. He realized his dream—a transparent, fair financial system—was turning into a game of greed and hype. He didn’t want to be part of it.

Looking at figures like Leland Faust or the trading community celebrating rug pulls, it’s easy to see why Satoshi left. He didn’t want to become a promoter, a “cultural hero” like Faust, or a player in the casino. He created a revolutionary tool but couldn’t control what humanity did with it. When people turned blockchain into a gambling machine, he chose to walk away—leaving his Bitcoin as a silent protest.

The Revolution of Simple Thieves: Where Does This Take Us?

Crypto, with all its chaos, isn’t a story of heroes or villains. It’s not about Robin Hood stealing from the rich or prophets bringing a new gospel. It’s a story of “simple thieves”—ordinary people seizing opportunities in a world where the rules have flipped. Leland Faust, with his 50-state record and blunt streams, isn’t a classic cultural hero. He’s a symbol of this generation: creative, angry, confused, and stuck between the dream of revolution and the reality of the casino.

The broader crowd that mutes him and the small community of traders celebrating the game—they’re all part of the same new culture. It’s a culture where a rug pull isn’t a crime, but a challenge; where shitcoins aren’t investments, but hobbies; and where the real value isn’t the money, but the title of “winning” the game. But what’s the cost? $9.3 billion in losses in 2024, according to an FBI report, is just the tip of the iceberg. The real cost is the loss of trust—in ourselves, in our communities, and in the idea that technology can change the world.

So, What Do We Do with This Digital Dust?

We don’t need to stop playing the game, but we do need to play it smarter. It starts with education: learning to spot the hype, distinguishing between projects with real value and shitcoins promising the moon, and understanding that this game isn’t just about money, but about what we build together. It continues with leading by example: instead of becoming promoters like Faust, we can build communities that promote integrity and collaboration.

And Satoshi? He’s probably sitting somewhere, watching from the sidelines, smiling to himself. He didn’t burn his Bitcoin to set a market floor; he left them as a reminder that the true value isn’t in the numbers on the screen, but in the vision that started it all. The question is whether we, the generation of digital cowboys, can lift our heads above the dust and build something worth more than a game.

Crypto isn’t a story of heroes or villains; it’s a story of ordinary people navigating a new world. Leland Faust, with all his rage and creativity, is a symbol of this era—not Robin Hood, not a prophet, but a digital cowboy riding the waves of hype. But if we keep seeing rug pulls as a video game, we’ll stay stuck in the dust. It’s time to lift our heads, learn from the mistakes, and build something worth more than a title in the game.