In the summer of 2021 I attended BTC Miami, arguably the world’s preeminent crypto currency “conference.” At the time I knew little of cryptocurrencies other than that their prices had improved during the pandemic and that some powerful venture capitalists were loudly proclaiming blockchains to be the future of the internet.
I set out in search of answers. I was expecting something similar to the software conferences I had attended years ago on digital advertising. Before FAANG was a fact it was an idea, and those conferences laid it all out before me. Steady, well prepared discussions from a variety of presenters varying from slick ad sales execs to effortlessly knowledgeable engineers, all describing a very specific vision for a future of the internet based on user generated content and highly targeted, easily trackable advertising. It all seemed quite magical and, crucially, it all came true. Although I might despise much of what they wrought, I admire their vigor and have long regretted not joining some of those companies in their infancy. I like money.
BTC Miami was not that. It took place in a large-scale tent village in the middle of the hip Wynwood district; a flashy, degenerate cousin of the nameless Palo Alto convention centers I remembered. Seating is a disaster. The outdoor areas are a drunken bacchanal populated by beach-dwelling subhumans. The air conditioning is wheezy and ineffectual in a vaguely third world way. The garbage-strewn nightmare outside helps to complete the effect. Had UN troops showed up and started handing out blankets they would not look out of place.
Most of the presenters are using pseudonyms, and rather poorly chosen ones at that. I think there was a Dr. Bitcoin MD. Seems normal. This is a crowd that doesn’t believe in names. Or identities. Or history. Or reality. Many of the talks are about prison reform and tax evasion, two subjects which seem particularly relevant to the attendees. One of the talks was simply an uncomfortable recording of Ross Ulbricht practicing his sob story for the parole board. Ross, for those of you who are unfamiliar, is the darkweb kingpin who was unfairly imprisoned for the modest crime of hiring hitmen to kill five people.
I want another drink but I have to push my way through some deadlocked white guys. I try to avoid looking down for fear that many may not be wearing shoes. Baffling remarks float out of overdriven PA systems. "Money is one of the most viral products of all time." "We're launching our API in June and our target audience is everyone." That sort of thing.
The presenters speak in a bizarre, imbecilic babytalk in which they’d imitate the form of engineering lingo but not the content, all filtered through a heavy surfer brogue and punctuated by nervous pothead laughter. They speak of Layer 1 and Layer 2 networks, a naming system modeled after TCP/IP’s layers except that none of these layers actually do anything or are, in fact, even layers of anything at all. They seem more like hustlers and grifters than technologists and entrepreneurs.
One of the presenters had been making mortgage backed securities at Goldman pre-Lehman. The MC seems pleased by this creature’s attendance, as if his presence legitimizes this sordid affair. “Here to discuss the creation of a new financial catastrophe is one of the architects of the last one."
Another talk promotes something called Bitcoin maximalism, a form of what I can only assume is pro-wrestling inspired performance art in which soft-bodied podcasters say things like "I tear apart anything that fucks with Bitcoin," "we are 12,000 murder hornets” and "Bitcoin fixes you, you don't fix Bitcoin." Indeed, yes, I can see that.
Floyd Mayweather, several skaters and a few other presumably notable members of the masculine cinematic universe are presenting something about something, I don’t know what, at this point I’ve given up and left to go sit on the floor of the Rubell Museum and enjoy the cool of the polished concrete on my skin until time puts me out of my misery.
This was the beginning of my long, strange self-education in the world of crypto, blockchains and web3. I’m in the ideal phase of my life for entrepreneurial endeavors; young enough to have stamina and drive, old enough to have skills and vision and to lead. Like most entrepreneurs today, I had to develop an opinion about crypto and web3 and, at least initially, I wanted to believe. The timing seemed perfect for me to enter the space, find an opening and hit it as hard as possible.
What followed was a very long period of technical and commercial discovery in the space. I will share my thoughts on those discoveries in other posts - there are a lot of very disparate things being lumped together and so a nuanced view is helpful - but I still feel that I learned something important at this conference.
Amidst the varying grotesqueries at BTC Miami, a pattern emerged, a drumbeat clearly audible beneath the noise. There was something in the air: a universal agreement that the system is rigged. Financial, legal, governmental, academic, social, romantic, moral - anything remotely normative was presumed to be so corrupt that it didn’t even warrant examination. In its place was an ungainly marriage of optimism and nihilism: we’re all going to make it, so long as none of you fuckers snitch.
This, more than anything, I believe to be the fulcrum around which the movement swings. There’s a common suspicion that the wealthy have all kinds of unfair and illogical advantages. Ways to make money out of money merely by moving some numbers around on a contract. Methods for fixing problems with a phone call, launching careers with a phrase, willing something into existence that no one wants. The power to lie, cheat, steal, mislead, influence and confuse and then get away with it. It’s a suspicion that is largely correct - the most dangerous amount of correct.
Crypto draws strength from this suspicion, the conviction that it’s all a long con anyway, so who cares if this is just another con. At least we got in on the ground floor, right?
There have emerged a number of very smart, very articulate skeptics who pull their hair out trying to explain why the various technological and commercial claims of web3 are faulty. They’re right, but they’re also wrong. That weekend in Miami I learned something important: it doesn’t matter. Crypto evangelists either don’t know that they’re full of shit or don’t care, and in a lot of cases I’m convinced they aren’t all that sure which flavor applies to them.
I like money, but not that much.