Felix Salmon

Mark Zuckerberg, the Warren Buffett of technology?

Felix Salmon
Mar 26, 2014 06:06 UTC

What does Mark Zuckerberg think he’s doing, spending $2 billion on Oculus? You could take him at his word — that he sees virtual reality as “a new communication platform” where “truly present” people “can share unbounded spaces and experiences”. Basically, virtual is the new mobile, and Zuckerberg wants to get in on the game early.

But note what Zuckerberg doesn’t say, as much as what he does. There’s no mention of “social”, no mention even of “Facebook”. Zuckerberg is one of the greatest product managers in history, but his legendary focus is nowhere to be seen here: it’s all big, vague, hand-waving futurism. And note too one of the quieter members of Zuckerberg’s board of directors: Donald Graham, the CEO of what used to be called the Washington Post Company, and old friend of Warren Buffett.

Buffett, of course, is the classic conglomerator: he’ll buy any business, so long as it’s good. Graham is similar: he inherited a grand media property, and added on all manner of unrelated businesses. Eventually he sold the Washington Post to Jeff Bezos, for $250 million — and is still the CEO of a company, Graham Holdings, which is worth more than $5 billion.

Is it too early to declare that Zuckerberg has ambitions to become the Warren Buffett of technology? Look at his big purchases — Instagram, WhatsApp, Oculus. None of them are likely to be integrated into the core Facebook product any time soon; none of them really make it better in any visible way. I’m sure he promised something similar to Snapchat, too.

Zuckerberg knows how short-lived products can be, on the internet: he knows that if he wants to build a company which will last decades, it’s going to have to outlast Facebook as we currently conceive it. The trick is to use Facebook’s current awesome profitability and size to acquire a portfolio of companies; as one becomes passé, the next will take over. Probably none of them will ever be as big and dominant as Facebook is today, but that’s OK: together, they can be huge.

Zuckerberg is also striking while the iron is hot. Have you noticed how your Facebook news feed is filling up with a lot of ads these days? Zuckerberg is, finally, monetizing, and he’s doing it at scale: Facebook’s net income grew from $64 million in the fourth quarter of 2012 to $523 million in the fourth quarter of 2013. At the same time, his stock — which he is aggressively using to make acquisitions — is trading at a p/e of 100. If you’re going shopping with billions of dollars in earnings multiplied by a hundred, you can buy just about anything you like.

Eventually, inevitably, Facebook (the product) will lose its current dominance. But by that point, Facebook (the company) will have so many fingers in so many pies that it might not matter. Zuckerberg, here, is hedging. Oculus might be valuable to Facebook if the social network grows. But it will be even more valuable to Facebook if the network shrinks. Zuckerberg has seen the astonishing speed with which products come and go online; he knows that his flagship won’t last forever. So he’s decided to build himself a flotilla.


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The rational Candy Crush IPO

Felix Salmon
Mar 10, 2014 17:40 UTC

Jim Surowiecki is absolutely right about the IPO of King Digital Entertainment, the makers of Candy Crush Saga. The point of an IPO is to raise permanent capital for a company which intends to exist in perpetuity, while King will realistically last only as long as the Candy Crush fad. King will probably never again make the kind of money ($568 million) it made last year, and yet it issued options in January at a crazy $9.4 billion valuation.

Surowiecki writes:

It’s easy to see why King’s founders want to go public: money. But the money isn’t worth the hassle. As a public company, King will have to show shareholders consistent results and ever-growing profits. Such expectations are, frankly, silly in crazily competitive, hit-driven industries, and trying to meet them is a recipe for frustration. If King stayed private, it could milk its cash cow and build games without having to worry overmuch about hatching a new cultural juggernaut. We expect companies to constantly be in search of the next big thing. But, for one-hit wonders, the smartest strategy might be to just enjoy it while it lasts.

There are two different pieces of advice here. The first is entirely sensible: if you have a business throwing off massive amounts of cash, and you have no real assurance that you can build a similar business or replicate your past success, then probably the best thing to do is to just pocket the cash, rather than trying to reinvest it. After all, Candy Crush Saga itself was not the product of hundreds of millions of dollars of investment: it was the product of good luck, basically.

The second piece of advice is that if you’re just going to cash checks from Candy Crush, you’re better off doing that as a private company, rather than having to deal with public shareholders. This is probably also true. Public companies are bad at managing decline: they always want to show growth. The result is all manner of attempts at “pivots”, or at investing cashflow into longshot attempts to build a new business from scratch (for a prime example, see the way that AOL took the hundreds of millions of dollars flowing from its dialup service and poured them into Patch). Which, needless to say, rarely works.

But here’s the problem: all companies have a valuation, and right now the market is placing a valuation on King which is somewhere in the $10 billion range. If the present value of Candy Crush Saga’s cashflows is less than $10 billion (which it almost certainly is), then it is entirely rational for anybody who might be inclined to live on those cashflows to instead sell the company to people who think it’s worth more than that.

And there’s another great reason to go public: it gives King’s current shareholders — employees and VCs — the ability to cash out easily, rather than just waiting for a ever-diminishing series of dividend checks. Like it or not, this is the way of the current technology world: you start up a company, you sell it, you get rich. Even if going public sucks.

The main reason to go public, however, could just be that the IPO market is so frothy right now that companies have to have the credible threat of an IPO in order to get the best possible price from a strategic acquirer. Right until the day before the IPO, King is going to retain the option to simply sell itself to some company which wants proven expertise at making enormous profits in the world of mobile-native apps. By moving towards an IPO, King is forcing those companies to get serious about making an offer — both in terms of timing (they’d better do it quick) and in terms of valuation (they’d better meet the likely IPO share price). Because buying King after it’s gone public is going to be a lot more difficult.

Sometimes, capital markets are inefficient at allocating capital. When debt markets are frothy you see a lot of debt issuance; when equity markets are frothy, you see a lot of IPOs. We’re seeing a lot of IPOs right now, including some pretty crazy ones. And if you sell into a frothy market, you’re being rational, not stupid. Let the buyers of King shares worry about where their return is going to come from: no one is twisting their arm. So long as there are people out there willing to buy at a $10 billion valuation, markets demand that the current owners should be able to sell.


This is just another in a series of examples of why I stopped investing in equities some time ago Felix. Plug Power is another very recent example.

I know, I know, let the buyer beware…..When I contemplate making money that way it just doesn’t feel very good. It feels like cheating. Like ripping off people who aren’t that smart.

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Satoshi: Why Newsweek isn’t convincing

Felix Salmon
Mar 10, 2014 04:18 UTC

I had a 2-hour phone conversation with Leah McGrath Goodman yesterday. Goodman wrote the now-notorious Newsweek cover story about Dorian Nakamoto, which purported to out him as the inventor of bitcoin. At this point, it’s pretty obvious that the world is not convinced: in that sense, the story did not do its job.

As Anil Dash says, the geek world is the most skeptical. Almost all of the critiques and notations attempting to show that Dorian is not Satoshi are coming from geeks, which makes sense. If the world is what you perceive the world to be, then there is almost no overlap between the world of geeks in general, and bitcoin geeks in particular, on the one hand, and the world of a magazine editor like Jim Impoco, on the other hand. As a result, there’s a lot of mutual incomprehension going on here, which has resulted in an unnecessarily adversarial level of aggression.

As befits a debate which is centered on bitcoin, a lot of the incomprehension comes down to trust and faith. Bitcoin is a protocol which requires faith in no individual, institution, or state — all you need to believe in is cryptography. Dorian Nakamoto could have told Goodman explicitly that yes, he invented bitcoin — and still a lot of the bitcoin faithful would not be fully convinced unless and until Dorian proved that assertion cryptographically.

Goodman, on the other hand, is a proud journalist, who gets personally offended whenever anybody raises questions about her journalism, her techniques, or her reporting. In a reporter’s career, she says, “you check facts, you are building trust and building a reputation”. Goodman feels that her own personal reputation, combined with the institutional reputation of Newsweek, should count for something — that if Newsweek and Goodman stand behind a story, then the rest of us should assume that they have good reason to do so. There’s no doubt that a huge amount of work went into reporting this story, very little of which is actually visible in the magazine article itself.

In aggregate, says Goodman, an enormous amount of evidence, including evidence which is not public, persuaded her that Dorian Nakamoto was her man. Goodman has not decided whether or how she might publish that evidence. When she appeared on Bloomberg TV, she said that she would love for people to look at the “forensic research” and the public evidence in the case — but, talking to me, she made it clear that she didn’t consider it her job to help out other journalists by pointing them to that evidence. What’s more, she also made it clear that she was in possession of evidence which other journalists could not obtain.

In other words, Goodman spent two months following leads and gathering evidence, both public and private. Eventually — after confronting Dorian Nakamoto in person, and getting what she considered to be a confirmation from him, both she and her editors felt that she was able to say, on the front cover of Newsweek, that he was the guy. The article itself was the culmination of that process, but it did not — could not — contain every last piece of evidence, both positive and negative, public and private, about both Dorian Nakamoto and every other candidate she looked at. The result is not the process, and Goodman feels that she should be given the respect due a serious and reputable investigative journalist, working for a serious and reputable publication.

Newsweek, it’s fair to say, has not been getting that respect, although it has been getting a lot more attention than most purely-digital publications would have received had they published the same story. Jim Impoco, cornered at a SXSW party, said that he finds criticism of his story to be “phenomenally offensive”, and then went on to make the highly ill-advised remark that “we eliminated every other possible person”. But that’s really a messaging failure: he was on the back foot (SXSW is, after all, geek HQ this week, and the geeks are gunning for Impoco right now). Clearly, this was not the time or the place for a considered discussion of evidentiary standards.

That said, both Impoco and Goodman should have been smarter about how they talked about the story, post-publication. Both have been largely absent from Twitter and Reddit and RapGenius and other online places where the debate is playing out; instead, they have been giving interviews to mainstream media organizations, which are often unhelpful. TV interviews devolve into stupid fights; interviews with print or online journalists result in just a couple of quotes.

Goodman spent a lot of time, with me, walking me through her journalistic technique: she started, for instance, by trying to track down the person who initially registered the bitcoin.org domain name, and then followed various threads from there. And yes, she did consider and reject the individuals who are considered more likely candidates by the geek squad. Nick Szabo, for instance, might well look like a good candidate if you’re looking only at the original bitcoin paper, and asking who is most likely to have written such a thing. But when she looked at Szabo’s personal life, nothing lined up with what she knew about Satoshi Nakamoto and his communications. Instead, she found the Dorian Nakamoto lead — and didn’t think much of it, at first. But the more she kept trying to dismiss it, and failing to do so, the more she wondered whether Dorian’s very invisibility — “contextual silence”, she called it — might not be sending her a message.

Towards the end of Goodman’s investigation, when she was preparing to try to meet with Dorian Nakamoto in person, Goodman told Impoco that if it didn’t turn out to be Dorian, then “we’ve got nobody”. That’s what Impoco was most likely talking about, when he talked about eliminating people. Goodman — and Impoco, more recently — was just saying that this was her last open thread, and that if Dorian didn’t pan out as the guy, then they didn’t have a story.

From my perspective, then, there’s a big disconnect between what I now know about Goodman’s methodology, on the one hand, and how that methodology is generally perceived by the people talking about her story on the internet, on the other. With hindsight, I think that Goodman’s story would have elicited much less derision if she had framed it as a first-person narrative, telling the story of how she and her team found Dorian and were persuaded that he was their man. The story would surely have been more persuasive if she had gone into much more detail about the many dead ends she encountered along the way. The fateful quote would then have come at the end of the story, acting as a final datapoint confirming everything that the team had laboriously put together, rather than coming at the beginning, out of the blue.

That storytelling technique would not persuade everybody, of course: nothing would, or could. And, more importantly, it isn’t really what Impoco was looking for. Even the piece as it currently stands was cut back a few times: the final version was pared to its absolute essentials, and, like all longform magazine journalists, Goodman wishes that she might have had more space to tell a fuller story.

But here’s where one of the main areas of mutual incomprehension comes into play. Impoco and Goodman are mainstream-media journalists producing mainstream content for a mass audience; Goodman’s article was probably already pushing the limits of what Impoco felt comfortable with, given that he couldn’t reasonably assume that most of his readers had even heard of bitcoin. Impoco was interested in creating a splashy magazine article, for the print reincarnation of a storied mass-market newsweekly. Of course, seeing as how this is 2014, the article would appear online, and would reach the people who care a lot about bitcoin, who were sure to make a lot of noise about it. But they weren’t the main audience that Impoco was aiming for. Indeed, in early 2012, when Impoco was editing a much smaller-circulation magazine for Reuters, I sent him a draft of what ultimately became this article for Medium. He passed: it was too long, too geeky. Even if it would end up reaching a large audience online (it has had over 200,000 page views on Medium), it didn’t have broad enough appeal to make it into a magazine.

Similarly, while Goodman has done a lot of press around her article, most of it looks like a tactical attempt to reach the greatest number of people, and build the most buzz for her article. So she’s been talking to a lot of journalists, especially on TV, while engaging relatively little on a direct basis with her online critics. There’s no shortage of substantive criticism of Goodman’s article online, and of course there is no shortage of venues — including, but not limited to, Newsweek.com — where Goodman could respond to that criticism directly, were she so inclined. But instead she has decided in large part not to join the online debate, and instead is pondering whether or not to write a self-contained follow-up article which might address some of the criticism.

There’s a good chance that follow-up article will never come, and that Goodman will simply cede this story to others. And you can’t necessarily blame her, given how vicious and personal much of the criticism has been, and given how many of her critics seem to have made their minds up already, and will never be persuadable. Goodman has said her piece, and there are surely greatly diminishing returns to saying a great deal more.

Still, it’s just as easy to sympathize with the frustration being felt by the geeks. Appeals to authority don’t work well on this crowd — and neither should they. If the US government can lie about the evidence showing that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, it’s hard to have much faith in an institution which, 18 months ago, slapped “HEAVEN IS REAL” all over its cover. (That story, interestingly enough, was demolished by another mass-market magazine, Esquire.)

Indeed, both sides here have good reason to feel superior to the other. From Newsweek’s point of view, a small amount of smart criticism online has been dwarfed by a wave of name-calling, inchoate anger, and terrifying threats of physical violence. And from what you might call the internet’s point of view, Newsweek is demonstrating a breathtaking arrogance in simply dropping this theory on the world and presenting it, tied up in a bow, as some kind of fait accompli.

The bitcoin community is just that — a community — and while there have been many theories as to the identity of Satoshi Nakamoto, those theories have always been tested in the first instance within the community. Bitcoin, as a population, includes a lot of highly-intelligent folks with extremely impressive resources, who can be extremely helpful in terms of testing out theories and either bolstering them or knocking them down. If Newsweek wanted the greatest chance of arriving at the truth, it would have conducted its investigation openly, with the help of many others. That would be the bloggy way of doing it, and I’m pretty sure that Goodman would have generated a lot of goodwill and credit for being transparent about her process and for being receptive to the help of others.

What’s more, a bloggy, iterative investigation would have automatically solved the biggest weakness with Goodman’s article. Goodman likes to talk about “forensic journalism”, which is not a well-defined phrase. Burrow far enough into its meaning, however, and you basically end up with an investigation which follows lots of leads in order to eventually arrive at the truth. Somehow, the final result should be able to withstand aggressive cross-examination.

At heart, then, forensic analysis is systematic, scientific: imagine an expert witness, armed with her detailed report, giving evidence in a court of law. Goodman’s Newsweek article is essentially the conclusion of such a report: it’s not the report itself, and it’s not replicable, in the way that anything scientific should be. If Goodman thinks of herself as doing the work of a forensic scientist, then she should be happy to share her research — or at least as much of it as isn’t confidential — with the rest of the world, and allowing the rest of the world to draw its own conclusions from the evidence which she has managed to put together.

A digital, conversational, real-time investigation into the identity of Satoshi Nakamoto, with dozens of people finding any number of primary sources and sharing them with everybody else — that would have been a truly pathbreaking story for Newsweek, and could still have ended up with an awesome cover story. But of course it would lack the element of surprise; Goodman would have to have worked with other journalists, employed by rival publications, and that alone would presumably suffice to scupper any such idea. (Impoco was not the only magazine editor to turn down my big bitcoin story: Vanity Fair also did so, when the New Yorker story came out, on some weird intra-Condé logic I never really bothered to understand. Competitiveness is in most magazine editors’ blood; they all want to be first to any story, even if their readers don’t care in the slightest.)

Instead, then, Newsweek published an article which even Goodman admits is not completely compelling on its own terms. “If I read my own story, it would not convince me,” she says. “I would have a lot of questions.” In other words, Goodman is convinced, but Goodman’s article is not going to convince all that many people — not within the congenitally skeptical journalistic and bitcoin communities, anyway.

Goodman is well aware of the epistemic territory here. She says things like “you have to be careful of confirmation bias”, and happily drops references to Russell’s teapot and Fooled by Randomness. As such, she has sympathy with people like me who read her story and aren’t convinced by it. But if there’s one lesson above all others that I’ve learned from Danny Kahneman, it’s that simply being aware of our biases doesn’t really help us overcome them. Unless and until Goodman can demonstrate in a systematic and analytically-convincing manner that her forensic techniques point to a high probability that Dorian is Satoshi, I’m going to remain skeptical.



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The Satoshi Paradox

Felix Salmon
Mar 7, 2014 08:06 UTC

Newsweek wanted a scoop for its relaunch cover story, and boy did it deliver: it uncovered the identity of Satoshi Nakamoto, the inventor of bitcoin. Who then promptly came out and denied everything. Which means that one of the two is wrong: either Nakamoto is lying through his teeth, or Newsweek has made what is probably the biggest and most embarrassing blunder in its 81-year history.

But before we try to work out what the answer is, it’s important to separate out the various different questions:

  1. Is Dorian Nakamoto the inventor of bitcoin, Satoshi Nakamoto?
  2. Do we, and/or Newsweek, have enough evidence to conclude, with certainty, that Dorian Nakamoto is the inventor of bitcoin?
  3. Is it reasonable to believe that Dorian Nakamoto is the inventor of bitcoin?

My tentative answers to the three questions are “we don’t know”; no; and yes.

One way to look at this problem is to try to calculate probabilities, and do some kind of Bayesian analysis of the question, given that either Dorian is Satoshi, or he isn’t. (To make matters even more complicated, Dorian’s given name is, actually, Satoshi. But you know what I mean.) But here’s the problem: if you believe either of the two possibilities, you have to believe in a reasonably long series of improbable propositions. Call it the Satoshi Paradox: the probability that Dorian is Satoshi would seem to be very small, and the the probability that Dorian is not Satoshi would seem to be just as small — and yet, somehow, when you add the two probabilities together, the total needs to come to something close to 100%.

The place to start is the Newsweek article, which brooks no doubt about the matter, and which is told using all the power of narrative journalism. The author, Leah McGrath Goodman, has constructed her 4,700-word article as a case for the prosecution, taking us with her on her quest for evidence and ultimately trying to persuade us that there can be no doubt: Dorian is Satoshi.

Goodman adduces lots of evidence, starting with the crazy coincidence of Satoshi’s name. Dorian’s name is Satoshi Nakamoto. He is an accomplished engineer and mathematician: “brilliant”, according to his brother. He was happy to correspond with Goodman until she asked him about bitcoin — at which point he stopped replying to emails and even called the cops on her. Dorian’s brother even predicted his response to Goodman’s article: “He’ll deny everything. He’ll never admit to starting Bitcoin.”

Goodman says that Dorian, “for most of his life, has been preoccupied with the two things for which Bitcoin has now become known: money and secrecy”. He’s a libertarian, whose daughter says that he is “very wary of the government, taxes and people in charge”. He’s 64, which would help explain slightly old-fashioned aspects of Satoshi, like his use of reverse Polish notation and his worrying about saving disk space. And then there’s the smoking gun — the quote that he gave to Goodman when she arrived at his doorstep.

“I am no longer involved in that and I cannot discuss it,” he says, dismissing all further queries with a swat of his left hand. “It’s been turned over to other people. They are in charge of it now. I no longer have any connection.”

This fits exactly with what we know about Satoshi: that he was deeply involved in bitcoin at the beginning, but has had basically nothing to do with it in recent years. It’s well short of an outright confession, of course — but if you add up all of the circumstantial evidence, it’s pretty hard to believe that everything is some bizarre coincidence. Goodman has presented a lot of pieces of the puzzle — and they fit elegantly together, at least at first glance.

On the other hand, even within the article there are signs that it’s not as clear cut as all that. There’s Goodman’s admission, in the article, that she “plainly needed to talk to Satoshi Nakamoto face to face” — something she never really did, except for a few quick words spoken in front of police officers while he was trying to make her go away. Goodman also quotes Gavin Andresen, the person most publicly associated with the development of bitcoin, as saying that even in the early days, Satoshi “went to great lengths to protect his anonymity”. Which hardly squares with the thesis that he was using his real name.

Then there are the duff notes in the piece. “This is the guy who created Bitcoin? It looks like he’s living a pretty humble life.” That, supposedly, is a verbatim quote from a Temple City cop: it’s possible that a cop uttered those words, but that doesn’t stop them from sounding like very bad expository dialogue. And Goodman can certainly overstretch, as for instance here:

There is also the chance “Satoshi Nakamoto” is a pseudonym, but that raises the question why someone who wishes to remain anonymous would choose such a distinctive name.

Remember that the pseudonym theory was not a mere theory, up until yesterday — it was almost universally accepted as the truth. In terms of Bayesian priors, you need very strong evidence to be persuaded that “Satoshi Nakamoto” is not a pseudonym. And this argument doesn’t even come close.

There’s also the whole question of Satoshi’s English, where Goodman can be seen placing a very hard thumb on the scales. Dorian’s English is not good: you can see that in his Amazon reviews, or in the letter he sent about a proposed Los Angeles rail project: “good secruity system against usage of rail as a get away means from the low income generated theives/criminals from area of east LA et. al must be also put in place regardless of the rail passage chosen.”

That kind of language can be seen too in Dorian’s email correspondence with Goodman: “I do machining myself, manual lathe, mill, surface grinders.” Goodman uses this as evidence for her case: she characterizes Satoshi’s original bitcoin proposal as being “somewhat stiffly written”. She also says, reading the original bitcoin paper, that “the punctuation in the proposal is also consistent with how Dorian S. Nakamoto writes, with double spaces after periods and other format quirks.”

But in fact the proposal is written in deeply fluent English:

Merchants must be wary of their customers, hassling them for more information than they would otherwise need. A certain percentage of fraud is accepted as unavoidable. These costs and payment uncertainties can be avoided in person by using physical currency, but no mechanism exists to make payments over a communications channel without a trusted party.

What is needed is an electronic payment system based on cryptographic proof instead of trust.

How is it possible that Goodman would notice double spaces after the periods, here, but would not notice that the sheer fluency of the language is quite incompatible with everything we know about how Dorian writes and speaks? She even quotes an email from Satoshi to Andresen: “I wish you wouldn’t keep talking about me as a mysterious shadowy figure. The press just turns that into a pirate currency angle. Maybe instead make it about the open source project.” This is breezy, colloquial English — and it’s entirely incompatible with Dorian’s language. The discrepancy is hard to square — and is all the more glaring for the fact that Goodman doesn’t even attempt to address it directly.

Then there’s the whole question of finances. Dorian “fell behind on mortgage payments and taxes” in the 1990s, reports Goodman, and lost his home to foreclosure; what’s more, he doesn’t seem to have had a steady job in well over a decade. And yet, famously and notoriously, he has never sold a single one of the million bitcoins he’s credibly assumed to own, despite the fact that, according to Goodman, he and his family “could really use the money”.

Because all bitcoin transactions are public, and because the specific coins Satoshi owns have been identified, selling or spending those coins would give the world a huge clue as to Satoshi’s identity. But with hundreds of millions of dollars at stake, it begs credibility to believe that Dorian couldn’t have found a way to sell at least some of his coins.

Even within Goodman’s piece, then, there are reasons to doubt her thesis. And in the wake of Dorian’s interview with the AP, there are more. His lack of fluency in English is clearly real; he has a credible explanation for the words he said in front of Goodman; and he has a guilelessness to him which would be very hard to fake, especially over the course of many hours with a skeptical reporter.

Put all that together, along with various other problems surrounding things like the time zone of Satoshi’s postings, and there would seem to be a lot of doubt that Dorian is, in fact, Satoshi.

At this point, it’s easy to fall down a rabbit hole of second-order second-guessing. It’s not particularly credible, for instance, that a libertarian engineer named Satoshi Nakamoto would never have heard of bitcoin until three weeks ago, and would, even after today’s news, “mistakenly” call it “bitcom”. What’s more, Dorian’s deny-everything reaction (and the official denial from Satoshi) is entirely consistent with Goodman’s article.

But the fact is that if you believe that Dorian is Satoshi, you have to accept that there are still a lot of things which don’t really add up. And conversely, if you believe that Dorian is not Satoshi, then you at the very least have to wonder at the astonishing number of coincidences that Goodman has uncovered.

Which means that the responsible thing to do, from Newsweek’s perspective, would have been to present a thesis, rather than a fact. For instance, when Ted Nelson attempted to reveal Satoshi’s identity last May, he put together a video where he put forward a theory which he said was “consistent, plausible, and, I believe, compelling”. He then took a step back, and let the bitcoin community more generally come to their own conclusions about whether or not to believe him; in the end, they (generally) didn’t.

Newsweek could have done that. It could have said “here’s a theory”, and then let the world decide. Many people would have believed the theory; others wouldn’t. And lots of us would probably have changed our minds a few times as we weighed the evidence and as Dorian’s own words came out.

But Newsweek didn’t want a theory, it wanted a scoop. And so, faced with what was ultimately only circumstantial evidence, it went ahead and claimed that it had uncovered Satoshi — that, basically, it was 100% certain.

That decision was ill-advised. Newsweek certainly got lots of buzz for its return to print — but it’s now getting just as much buzz for going to press with what is looking increasingly like a half-baked theory. Personally, I don’t know whether Dorian is Satoshi — but I think I can be pretty safe in saying that the probability is somewhere in the range of, say, 10% to 90%. In other words, it’s possible; it might even be probable; but it’s not certain. And anybody who says that it is certain is wrong.

I believe that Goodman believes that Dorian is Satoshi. I believe that Jim Impoco, my ex-boss, who’s now the editor of Newsweek, also believes that Dorian is Satoshi. But belief is not enough. Dan Rather believed that the Killian documents were genuine; Hugh Trevor-Roper believed that the Hitler diaries were genuine; Lara Logan believed that Dylan Davies was telling the truth about Benghazi. Big scoops are dangerous things.

It would have been less satisfying, for Newsweek, to leave a bit of wiggle room — to present the Dorian-is-Satoshi theory as just a theory, rather than as fact. But it is only a theory. And ultimately, it’s always better to be Ariel Dorfman than it is to be Paulina Salas.


It’s hard to say who created BTC. In time, I think we’ll get the true answer.

Bitcoin Faucet List

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Facebook’s horrible, stroke-of-genius IPO

Felix Salmon
Feb 20, 2014 15:28 UTC

Two years ago, before Facebook went public, I wrote a feature for Wired with the title “For High Tech Companies, Going Public Sucks”. It was illustrated with this Mark Zuckerberg sadface:


As it happened, going public did suck for Mark Zuckerberg — much more than even I thought that it would. But, like many things which look really horrible at the time, it turns out to have been the best thing that Zuckerberg could have done. Facebook, today, has a real chance of sticking around and dominating the world for many years to come — and it only has that chance because it went public when it did.

The reason is simple enough to be summed up in one word: mobile.

At the time of the Facebook IPO, 21 months ago, the markets knew full well what the biggest challenge facing Facebook was. The desktop product was wildly popular, but the mobile product wasn’t, and it was far from clear how Facebook could thrive in a world based around the smartphone. Zuckerberg had one job above all others: manage the transition to mobile, and do it as fast and as aggressively as possible.

And that’s exactly what he did.

By the time last quarter’s earnings came out, Facebook was getting 53% of its revenue from its 945,000,000 mobile users: nobody saw that coming at the time of the IPO. Facebook has monetized mobile better than any other website in the world, and its in-stream native ad units are impressively powerful. Brands aren’t buying them because they feel the need to be cool, they’re buying them because they work.

Zuckerberg, however, wasn’t satisfied with purely financial metrics. Mobile is a completely different world, and the move from desktop to mobile, for Facebook, had to be — and had to be seen to be, both internally and externally — as the central, company-defining strategy of the 2010s.

The technology world moves fast, and companies need to be able to change or die. If you change, then you can thrive: look at Netflix, for instance, a far cry from its DVDs-by-mail roots, or look at IBM, which has managed to pivot from making PCs to, um, whatever it is that it does now. (I’m a bit unclear on what that is, but the numbers speak for themselves: it made $16.5 billion of profits in the last 12 months, on revenues of $100 billion, and has an enterprise value of $220 billion; its share price is higher than it was even at the height of the dot-com bubble.) Look, most canonically, at Apple, which transitioned with spectacular success from making computers to making phones.

Or, alternatively, look at Microsoft.

Zuckerberg knew, circa Facebook’s IPO, that his company was not good at mobile: it didn’t have the problem solved. And he knew that asking his existing corps of engineers to turn their attention to mobile would probably not work. But the good news was that he was now running a public company, with lots of cash, and a highly-valued acquisition currency in the form of Facebook stock.

The world of mobile is in large part a lottery. The most successful products aren’t the best-made; they’re just the ones which managed to catch on, for whatever reason, and generate positive word of mouth. The perfect example: Flappy Bird, a game written in a single day, released with no fanfare onto the iOS app store, which went absolutely nowhere for over a year, before suddenly exploding in global popularity for basically no reason.

Facebook bought Instagram for $1 billion in 2012 not because the product was particularly great, but because the product was insanely popular. The same when he offered $3 billion for Snapchat. Sometimes, lightning strikes. And while Facebook is happy writing its own mobile apps in the hope that lightning will strike them, it knows better than to count on such a thing happening. If you want to be certain that hundreds of millions of people are using your mobile products, the only way to do that is to buy mobile products which hundreds of millions of people are using.

Facebook’s acquisition of WhatsApp sums up Zuckerberg’s strategy perfectly. WhatsApp is an ugly, clunky product with a juvenile name; there are dozens of prettier, smoother, more elegant mobile messaging apps out there. But, even more than Instagram, it’s also insanely popular: think of it as the Drudge Report of messaging apps. Facebook itself has never put much stock in elegance: its own site has always been pretty cluttered, mainly because it turns out that cluttered and ugly often works really well. (Look at any Chinese portal.) There is nothing intrinsic to the WhatsApp product which Facebook hasn’t already developed on its own. But WhatsApp has hundreds of millions of incredibly loyal users, all over the world, and that’s all that matters.

The price, of course, is high. But most of it is being paid in Facebook stock, with the cash component coming easily out of Facebook’s massive cash pile. Issuing Facebook stock, especially if doing so buys you the future, in terms of a young global user base, costs Zuckerberg effectively nothing: the share price is basically flat today, while it would surely have fallen much further had, say, Microsoft bought WhatsApp instead.

But that’s the difference between Facebook and Microsoft. Zuckerberg is the same generation as the people building today’s most popular mobile apps: he speaks their language, and he lives in the Bay Area, where they live, and — most importantly — he has complete control of his company, so if he decides that he wants to drop $19 billion on company with 55 employees, he can go ahead and do just that in a matter of days. At Microsoft, such a deal would probably be brought to some M&A person by a banker, and Microsoft would spend months kicking the tires, and there would be endless meetings about whether to do the deal and how much to pay, and the target company would get so frustrated over the course of the process that it would probably end up saying no regardless of what the eventual offer price was.

The WhatsApp acquisition is a statement by Zuckerberg that mobile matters more than money. He’s right about that. Without mobile, it doesn’t matter how much money Facebook has. If you’re asking whether Zuckerberg paid too much for WhatsApp, you’re asking the wrong question. Zuckerberg is sending a message, here, that Facebook will never stop in its attempt to dominate mobile — that no amount of money is too much. Zuckerberg has money — and, thanks to the IPO, he can even print money, if he wants, by issuing new Facebook stock. He’s playing large-stack poker, and he’s playing it in textbook manner. I, for one, wouldn’t want to be competing against him.


@ckm5, it sounds like you are assigning a value of $0 to the stock portion of the deal. If that is realistic, then Facebook is grossly overvalued.

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When disruption meets regulation

Felix Salmon
Jan 30, 2014 15:37 UTC

Nick Dunbar has a fantastic post today headlined “Disruptive Business Models, Uber and Plane Crashes”, talking about how “the latest flurry of innovation” is being concentrated in regulated industries. Dunbar concentrates on non-financial companies: his examples are Uber, Airbnb, and a small company called Manx2, which was an airline in much the same way that Uber is a taxi service or Airbnb is a hotel company. Manx2 no longer exists, in the wake of a plane crash which killed two pilots and four passengers.

What Manx2 actually did was sell tickets. For each particular route, Manx2 then contracted with a plane operating company to fly the passengers…

The Spanish regulator that oversaw Flightline had no clue that the crew who had trained and been accredited in sunny Spanish climes were working remotely for Manx2, flying to fogbound Irish airports. And the passengers who bought tickets from Manx2, which the report says was ‘portraying itself as an airline’ had no clue about the risks they were taking by flying in such a plane run by a freelance operator. Reading the report, it’s hard not to get the impression that the virtual airline business model of Manx2 was partly to blame for what happened.

All regulated industries are inefficient: regulation cannot help but add a layer of bureaucracy to any organization, and no one ever hired a compliance officer as a way of boosting productivity. This creates a natural inclination, on the part of entrepreneurial types, to want to disrupt the industry in question. They look at it, they see all that inefficiency, and they know they can produce 90% of the output with 10% of the overhead.

The problem is that from a societal perspective, sometimes 90% — or even 99% — just isn’t good enough. Airlines are a good example: thanks to regulation, they’re incredibly safe. And when a company like Manx2 manages to slip through the regulatory cracks, the consequences can be disastrous.

The anti-Uber lobby is making similar claims about taxicabs: that they’re licensed for a reason, and that Uber’s attempt at doing an end-run around taxicab regulations is going to endanger passengers and other road users. When you get in a cab, you’re placing your life in someone else’s hands, and you really don’t want that person to be a violent criminal, or have a history of nasty traffic accidents. What’s more, the government is generally better at checking on such things than private companies are.

The main reason why local governments mistrust Uber, however, has nothing to do with public safety: it’s simply a fiscal matter. Both hotels and taxis are important revenue sources for municipalities, which is why city governments tend to be unenthusiastic about Airbnb and Uber.

From the point of view of Silicon Valley libertarians, the idea that they’re disrupting a long-established flow of public monies is a feature, not a bug. If you threaten their disruptive business models, you’re threatening their freedom! That’s the message being sent quite explicitly by the mild-mannered Fred Wilson; his west-coast counterparts, like Balaji Srinivasan and Peter Thiel, have a tendency to go even further.

In finance, regulation is very important indeed — if you want to prevent everything from terrorist finance to global financial meltdown, central authorities need to be able to keep tabs on all financial flows. Finance startups generally operate in a lightly-regulated grey area, just because compliance costs tend to be prohibitively high if you want to, say, start a bank. That explains why Simple isn’t a bank; why most microfinance shops don’t accept deposits; why Apple didn’t storm into the payments space years ago; why it’s so difficult for startups to compete with PayPal, which has spent many years and hundreds of millions of dollars on global compliance; and so on and so forth.

And so when states like New York and California try to gently embrace bitcoin, bringing it into the regulatory fold while not stifling it entirely, the result is always going to be a little bit messy. Bitcoin is built on libertarian mistrust of regulations; indeed, much of the enthusiasm surrounding it comes precisely because it is such a powerful and elegant means of circumventing government control.

I can see the argument for lighter regulation of microfinance institutions: if your depositors have just a few dollars in their accounts, you can’t be expected to spend $50 per customer per year on know-your-customer operations. But in the case of bitcoin, the scoundrels have the head start, and the regulators are never going to be able to catch them. As a result, the entire bitcoin edifice is probably going to end up being shut down by the Feds at some point. It might well get replaced by some other cryptocurrency, but in the case of bitcoin, the regulatory arbitrage is already far too advanced. Which means that if the bitcoin economy continues to grow, the world’s financial regulators will eventually have no choice but to kill it.


The manx2 example sounds like a far more basic failing if Dunbar actually knows what he is talking about – which he may not.

The notion of pilots being trained only to fly in certain geographies sounds dramatically off vs. FAA practice, which I thought was similar in other countries. If the pilot and equipment are only qualified for VFR – Visual Flight Rules – then they only fly in VFR conditions, which would mean without fog. Full stop. If pilot and equipment are IFR – Instrument Flight Rules – then they can land based on instruments, and fog shouldn’t matter. It would be very unusual – maybe impossible – for any sort of commercial passenger or large-scale charter to operate VFR in the U.S.

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How Tumblr and GitHub could be the future of education

Felix Salmon
Jan 21, 2014 09:24 UTC

I’m at DLD, in Munich, where on Monday I moderated an enjoyable discussion with Georg Petschnigg, the co-founder of FiftyThree, and David Karp, the founder of Tumblr. FiftyThree is the company which makes Paper, Apple’s iPad App of the Year in 2012, and also Pencil, the beautifully-weighted stylus which makes Paper even more of a pleasure to use. Tumblr is deeply embedded into Paper; it’s more or less the default way in which people using Paper share their creations.

Petschnigg and Karp get on just as well together as Paper and Tumblr, so this was never going to be one of those panels where the idea is to spark lively debate. Instead, we talked about a topic right in the DLD sweet spot: the intersection of technology and creativity.

It’s a topic I’d been thinking about anyway, in large part because I spent a few hours on the plane to Munich reading The Second Machine Age, the new book from MIT’s Erik Brynjolfsson. Brynjolfsson is a fan of the work of education researcher Sugata Mitra, whose research was featured heavily in Joshua Davis’s wonderful recent Wired cover story — the one which used the story of a single great teacher in the unprepossessing city of Matamoros, Mexico, to illustrate an important point about self-directed learning.

The lesson being taught by Mitra is not a new one: it dates back at least as far as Maria Montessori, whose Pedagogical Anthropology first came out more than a century ago. But Brynjolfsson, along with his co-author Andrew McAfee (himself the graduate of a Montessori school), makes the case that Montessori-style education, with an emphasis on creativity rather than rote learning, will be especially powerful and necessary in the coming decades.

Brynjolfsson cites work by the complexity scholar Brian Arthur and the economist Paul Romer, both of whom argue that the primary driver of economic growth is what Brynjolfsson likes to call “ideation”: the creative combination and recombination of ideas into something powerful and new. As Arthur puts it: “to invent something is to find it in what previously exists”.

Meanwhile, Petschnigg makes a compelling case that if you look at just about any creative industry — anywhere that ideation happens, from advertising to architecture — ideas generally germinate in exactly the same way: with creative individuals scribbling on a piece of paper. Petschnigg’s apps are, at their best, a way of turbocharging those scribbles — a way of allowing inspiration to flow, with the fewest possible bottlenecks, directly into the powerful networked computer known as an iPad. Then, when those ideas are shared on Tumblr, they can start mating with other ideas. This process, too, is almost effortless, thanks to Tumblr’s “reblog” button.

Don’t even bother trying to calculate the resulting increase in the number of potential combinations of ideas: it’s almost infinite. One of the reasons that Tumblr was valued at $1.1 billion when it was bought by Yahoo is that it naturally spawns millions of creative communities, most of which simply never existed before. The majority of the value created by those communities will not flow back to Yahoo, of course, but that’s fine: so long as Tumblr continues to be the foremost place where creative individuals congregate to share their ideas and creations, it will remain an extremely valuable property.

Tumblr does not appear in Brynjolfsson’s book; neither, more surprisingly, does its equivalent in the world of coders, GitHub. Yet there is undoubtedly trillions of dollars of potential economic value on GitHub right now, and every day coders unlock some of that value by combining its existing resources in innovative ways.

The power and value of combinatorial platforms can be seen elsewhere, too: just look at LinkedIn (market capitalization: $25 billion), which attempts to do for people what Tumblr does for creative output and what GitHub does for code. After all, companies like FiftyThree and Tumblr aren’t built by individuals working alone: they’re built by teams, working in a collaborative manner. Petschnigg teaches at NYU, and told me the story of one student he ended up hiring: not necessarily the most brilliant, but rather the one who could be counted on to be able to persuade just about anybody else in the class to join his team.

Brynjolfsson’s thesis, and I think he’s right about this, is that we’re only just beginning to glimpse the possibilities of a world powered by an unprecedented level degree of connectivity between people, ideas, and code. In such a world, educators will have to radically change the way they work. While schools once produced computers (the word originally referred to people, rather than machines), they will now have to produce creative individuals skilled in ideation, pattern recognition, and opportunistic team-building. Those things aren’t easily measured by standardized tests. But the children who are taught them are surely the ones who will build the future. One possible way to start: ask every child in the class to sign up for Tumblr and GitHub.


It always makes me laugh this idea that ‘the future is only about creative people’… the hive only needs one queen, a few consorts and a tonne of drones to make it run.

Quite a bit of automation is wasteful, but it’s cheaper because human labour is quite expensive. Looking forward what the world needs is FAR LESS waste and more people that actually know how to do things. I wonder how many people read this blog could do some work on their car, fix minor electrical or plumbing problems, hell even troubleshoot computer problems. People are helpless and dependent totally on functioning society for survival, and being wistfully creative as a rule is no way to live life or improve that state. People love to laugh at hardcore Libertarians (myself included on occasion) that would be happy living off the land completely off the grid… but one must admit at least they could do it and survive – me? not so much. And becoming utterly dependent on computer systems for absolutely everything is a step in the wrong direction, and that’s what I hear (read?) from this post.

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How companies should take advantage of markets

Felix Salmon
Dec 20, 2013 14:08 UTC

I like Matt Levine’s dry take on Facebook’s secondary offering: “Whatever else you think of Facebook,” he writes, “it is unusual among public companies in its desire and ability to sell stock at local maximums.” And really, he’s right: it makes perfect sense for a company (and its controlling shareholder) to sell stock when demand is greatest and the price is at its highest. After all, share sales are a simple transaction: you give me a one-off slug of cash today, and in return I’ll give you ownership rights in perpetuity. Anybody engaging in such a deal should at least want to maximize the amount of cash they’re getting, which is another way of saying that you should only sell stock if you think it’s overvalued.

On the other hand, I don’t buy Cyrus Sanati’s criticism of the deal, which is that Facebook shouldn’t be diluting its shareholders like this when it already has more than enough cash on hand — and is profitable, to boot. But let’s put this “dilution” into perspective, here. For one thing, the 27 million shares that Facebook is selling to the broad public constitute less than half of the 60 million new shares that Facebook is issuing to Mark Zuckerberg personally, as part of its most recent options grant. If you want to complain about dilution, then complain about the options, not the secondary. And in any case, before this deal (and before the options grant), Facebook had 2,458,051,029 shares of stock outstanding. Which means that the new stock being issued by Facebook is dilutive to the tune of just under 1.1%. In a world where Facebook stock has doubled in the past five months, that’s really nothing.

The real news here is that Zuckerberg has finally started cashing out in a very big way. While he did sell some stock in the IPO he only really sold enough to cover his personal tax bill; in this deal, however, he’s selling 41,350,000 shares — which is significantly more than the amount he would need to sell to cover the taxes on his latest options grant. And by “significantly” I mean one billion dollars net after taxes. That billion dollars in cash is over and above the other billion dollars he’s giving to charity in the form of Facebook stock, which will have the pleasant side effect of reducing his annual taxable income by exactly the same amount.

Interestingly, for all that Zuckerberg is selling $3.3 billion of stock as part of this offering, his control of the company is greater now than it was before the IPO: back then he controlled 56.9% of the total voting power in Facebook, while after this deal he’s going to control 62.8%.

It seems to me, then, that the real way to look at this deal is to remember that Facebook is Zuckerberg’s company, and that drawing distinctions between the two is not very helpful. Zuckerberg wants to diversify his wealth out of Facebook, and he’s doing that now. He also knows — almost better than anybody else on the planet — just how quickly large technology companies can get disrupted. After all, he did that himself. So he wants Facebook to have a very large warchest of cash, which he can then use to acquire the kind of fast-growing, mobile-native products which threaten to make him obsolete. And right now is a great time to amass such a warchest: Facebook is being added to the S&P 500, which means that lots of index funds want to buy his stock. That kind of permanent step-change in demand for Facebook stock can easily justify a small step-change in the number of Facebook shares outstanding.

Or, to put it another way: three years ago, Facebook could entice talented engineers away from Google by promising them lots of Facebook stock, on the grounds that one day, Facebook would be a $100 billion company and they would be rich. Now, however, Facebook is a $100 billion company. (To be precise, it’s a $135 billion company.) As a result, its stock is much less attractive to someone looking for massive appreciation in the next few years: you’re much more likely to go from $30 billion to $120 billion than you are to go from $125 billion to $500 billion. Which in turn means that Mark Zuckerberg has moved on, and is now offering cash, rather than stock, to the companies and individuals he really covets. (The $3 billion he offered for Snapchat is an enormous amount of money, but it’s a lot less than the $10 billion of cash that Facebook currently has on its books, gathering dust.)

Zuckerberg has made a determination that he wants a lot of cash, both for himself and for Facebook, and that it’s worth selling a few shares in the company in order to get it. That doesn’t, pace Sanati, mean that Zuckerberg thinks Facebook is overvalued. It just means that there’s a cycle to these things. Facebook already has a large market capitalization; having a large market capitalization and billions of dollars in cash gives you more power and more optionality.

Who’s at the other end of the cycle? Which firm is currently most similar to Facebook circa 2010, looking to attract talent by giving out equity? The answer is Square, where Jack Dorsey has given back 10% of his shares, just so that the company can attract the very best talent going forwards. That’s smart. Dorsey doesn’t need the money: what he’s looking for is growth. If Dorsey needs cash, he can always sell some of his Twitter shares, which are currently valued at well over a billion dollars. But if he wants to attract Silicon Valley engineers who dream of becoming dynastically wealthy on the day of an IPO, then right now he needs to be able to hand out significant chunks of stock.

What Zuckerberg and Dorsey have in common is that they’re taking full advantage of the astonishing valuations which can be bestowed on companies — and their shareholding employees — by public markets. Zuckerberg is tapping those markets for cash; Dorsey is pointing to their potential. This is a really good thing: this is what markets are for. Markets provide incentives, and the owners of companies take advantage of those incentives. Shareholders shouldn’t want to have it any other way. Even if certain index-fund managers feel a bit as though they’re being dragooned into shipping billions of dollars over to Mark Zuckerberg, right at the point at which the stock hits an all-time high.


Does Zuckerberg use 10b5 plan to sell his stock? If so, how does he time his sales based on stick price? If not, how is it not insider trading?

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Waiting for bitcoin to get boring

Felix Salmon
Nov 30, 2013 23:16 UTC

Something of a milestone was reached very early in the morning of Friday, November 29, a time when most Americans were either sleeping off their Thanksgiving excesses or out seeking Black Friday bargains. At the end of Wednesday, the price of gold, on Comex, had closed at $1,240 per ounce; that market would not reopen until Friday morning. And then at about 1am Friday, EST, there was a trade on Mt Gox, the largest bitcoin exchange, which valued each coin at $1,242. If only briefly and theoretically, at that point in time a bitcoin was worth more than an ounce of gold.

Bitcoin, by its nature, is a highly volatile asset, which is prone to astonishing run-ups in price. Check out these three one-year charts of the bitcoin price:




The first chart is the year to June 2010; the second is the year to April 2013; and the third is the current chart. Without looking at the y-axis, they’re basically identical.

To put it another way, there is nothing surprising about what bitcoin is doing right now; it has done it many times in the past, and it will probably do it in the future as well. After all, there’s no way to calculate the fundamental value of a bitcoin: indeed, it’s probably easier to justify a price of $1,000 per bitcoin than it was to justify a price of $10. At least now it’s increasingly looking like a Thing, complete with Congressional hearings and front-page-of-the-FT publicity stunts.

The latest bright idea from Alderney — that the tiny island (population: 1,900) should print physical bitcoins backed by electronic bitcoins — is certifiably bonkers. For one thing, the whole point of bitcoin is that it isn’t going to suffer the same fate as all those currencies which the government promised were backed by something else. (The dollar was backed by gold, once; the Argentine peso was backed by the dollar. Neither lasted, and if the burghers of Alderney ever change their mind about the bitcoin backing, or it gets hacked or stolen, the owners of the physical bitcoins are going to have no recourse.)

More weirdly, the Alderney bitcoins are going to have about £500 worth of gold in them, which makes no sense at all. Let’s say that the gold in the coin is worth $800, while the bitcoin backing it is worth $1,000. What, then, would the coin be worth? It can’t be much less than $1,000, at least as long as it can be redeemed for an electronic bitcoin, or a bitcoin’s worth of pounds sterling. But by the same token, it can’t be worth much more than $1,000, because numismatists don’t tend to value gimmicks very highly, so it’s not going to have significant value as a collector’s item. And the most you could sell it for, in terms of its fundamental value, is the value of one bitcoin. Which means that there’s no point whatsoever in pouring £500 worth of gold into it — the gold doesn’t increase the value of the coin at all.

All of which is to say that the FT is splashing all over its front page a crazy bitcoin scheme which is never going to happen. “An independent company will provide the Bitcoins,” explains the newspaper, credulously. “If the price plunged, neither Alderney nor the Royal Mint would lose anything.” But what independent company would ever do such a thing? The company would essentially need to hand over its bitcoins to Alderney, would probably have to help fund the cost of manufacturing the coins out of gold, and would get essentially nothing in return for the huge risk it was taking that all its coins would become worthless.

The news here, then, is not so much that there’s some new cockamamie scheme involving bitcoins — a new such scheme is dreamed up every day. Rather, it’s the way in which the bitcoin bug has infected news editors to the point at which they’ll splash any old vaporware silliness all over their front pages. One of the less reported aspects of the bitcoin story is the way in which editors tend to be much more excited about it than reporters, who are generally more skeptical, and who worry that their own reporting will only serve to inflate the bubble even further.

This is something which should worry the bitcoin faithful, if they really want to see bitcoin become a broadly-used global currency. After all, press coverage of bitocins runs in lockstep with the bitcoin price: it’s times like this, when the price is at its fluffiest, that bitcoin gets written about the most. (If it’s not physical bitcoins, it’s hard drives in landfills.) The largely unspoken assumption behind all such stories: bitcoin is an asset class, and people should get excited about it when (and, implicitly, only when) the price is going up. This is what I think of as the CNBC Premise: when an asset rises in price, that is necessarily a Good Thing, and when it falls in price, that is always a Bad Thing.

The CNBC Premise has never made much sense with respect to currencies, however. And with respect to bitcoin in particular, its most exciting aspect is not its value, but rather its status as an all-but-frictionless international payments mechanism. If you want bitcoin to really take off with respect to payments, you actually don’t want to see crazy price spikes — such things are the best possible way of stopping people from using bitcoins for payments. After all, if your bitcoins are doubling in value every few days, why on earth would you want to spend them?

For me, the most interesting period in the short history of bitcoin was the period from roughly the beginning of May to the end of September, when the volatility in the price of bitcoin was relatively low, even as the price was pretty high* — more than $100 per coin. And more generally, it’s the long flat areas of the three charts above, rather than the attention-grabbing spiky bits, that bitcoin bulls should get excited about. If and when those long flat areas last for years rather than months, bitcoin might start becoming a boring, credible currency. We’ll know that bitcoin has made it to the next level not when editors all want to write about it, but rather when editors don’t want to write about it, because it’s just another way of people paying each other for stuff.

*Update: As Joe Weisenthal points out, stability at a high price is more bullish for the bitcoinverse than stability at a low price, because the higher the market capitalization of bitcoin, the greater the amount of commerce that can be transacted in it.


Great article. Bitcoin should be approached prudently with an eye towards risk management. We comment on this and similar issues on our blog.

http://www.bitmorecoin.com – Quick and easy way to buy Bitcoin in the UK.

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