Le scénario est contestable. La réaction du marché, qui s’en est suivie beaucoup moins. Elle révèle une asymétrie : l’IA était pricée comme pur upside, c’est à dire comme un adjuvant à la productivité qui augmente la profitabilité de l’entreprise. Citrini de son côté a forcé le downside dans l’équation, en ouvrant un nouvel horizon.

Les réponses des commentateurs n’ont pas manqué. Noah Smith y voit un conte de fées macroéconomique. Armstrong du FT pointe un trou comptable. Kaminska va plus loin : un investissement qui détruit son propre marché, ce n’est pas de l’intelligence. C’est de l’anti-intelligence.

Quand on a débattu de tout ça sur la boucle WhatsApp de Joan Larroumec, la conversation a bifurqué.

Le fossoyeur

Un membre du groupe a coupé court avec une ironie précise : Marx a déjà décrit cette boucle il y a 160 ans. Le capital se substitue au travail. Les marges gonflent. La concurrence comprime les profits. Le système s’autodévore, il est autophage. Baisse tendancielle du taux de profit. C’est un vieux film.

Marx, 1867 : “Le capital est son propre fossoyeur.” Citrini, 2026 : “A feedback loop with no natural brake.” Même mécanique décrite, seul le langage change.

Schumpeter avait l’antidote : la destruction créatrice engendre toujours de nouvelles tâches humaines. L’automobile tue le maréchal-ferrant, crée le garagiste. Internet tue l’agent de voyage, crée le UX designer. Le travailleur transite. Le système encaisse.

Sauf qu’invoquer Marx et Schumpeter ici n’aide pas vraiment, on est dans un changement paradigmatique total.

L’IA n’opère pas au niveau du muscle, comme c’était le cas auparavant avec les ruptures technologiques précédentes. Elle opère au niveau de la cognition. Analyser, décider, créer, persuader, coordonner : exactement ce qui rendait l’humain irremplaçable dans la chaîne de production. Le product manager viré par Claude ne peut pas devenir “AI manager.” L’IA fait déjà ça. La machine progresse précisément dans les tâches vers lesquelles l’humain se replierait.

Toutes les révolutions antérieures remplaçaient du muscle. Celle-ci remplace l’intelligence. La chose même qui justifiait la présence de l’humain dans la chaîne de valeur. C’est la rupture paradigmatique. On a vécu ces transitions depuis la nuit des temps. Celle-ci n’a peut-être pas d’issue.

Le trilemme

Marx bute sur son propre axiome. Seul le travail humain crée de la valeur, c’est le fondement de toute la théorie de la plus-value. Si c’est vrai, une économie sans travail est une économie sans valeur. Ce qui est absurde si les machines produisent des biens et des services utiles à grande échelle.

Trois issues.

Scénario 1 : Révolution

Marx a raison. Le travail seul crée de la valeur. On le remplace intégralement, le taux de profit tombe à zéro, le capitalisme s’effondre sous ses contradictions. Scénario révolutionnaire classique, sauf que la révolution n’est pas prolétarienne. Elle est technologique.

Scénario 2 : Robot Lords

Les machines créent de la valeur. Le capitalisme survit mais mute : plus de travailleurs, tout le surplus capté par les propriétaires de la puissance de calcul. Varoufakis appelle ça le techno-féodalisme. Il s’agit simplement d’une structure médiévale mais avec de meilleurs GPUs.

Scénario 3 : Obsolescence de la valeur

L’abondance machinique rend le concept même de valeur économique caduc. C’est le territoire d’auteurs comme Banks ou Le Guin. Il s’agit de science-fiction, pas d’économie. Aucun cadre existant ne formule correctement la question : que font les humains quand la chaîne de production n’a plus besoin d’eux ?

Ni Marx, ni Schumpeter, ni Keynes n’ont imaginé une économie fonctionnant sans travail humain quelque part dans la chaîne. Il était toujours là : physique ou intellectuel. C’est l’ancre de tout le système. L’IA est en train de la lever.

L’impasse redistributive

Si l’IA concentre la richesse, comment redistribuer ? Les propositions ne manquent pas. Mais aucune ne résout le problème de fond.

Voici les principales, et pourquoi chacune cale.

Chaque mécanisme suppose une autorité coercitive. Sans pouvoir de contrainte, ces solutions restent des articles académiques.

La question souveraine

Si la redistribution exige la coercition, deux avenirs.

Le retour des nations. C’est déjà en cours. Reshoring, droits de douane, souveraineté de la puissance de calcul, CHIPS Act, contrôles à l’export. L’État-nation reprend le contrôle de l’infrastructure critique. Seul acteur capable d’imposer des règles.
Risque : la course au moins-disant. La France légifère, l’Irlande défiscalise. On connaît le scénario, c’est l’histoire fiscale des GAFAM dans l’U.E.

La dissolution en phyles. Le scénario Stephenson dans L’Âge de diamant : les communautés affinitaires remplacent les nations. Organisation par culture, économie, idéologie, pas par territoire - c’est le Network State de Balaji. Séduisant en théorie. Sauf que sans État souverain, rien ne contraint la redistribution inter-communautés. Les phyles riches, qui sont le produits des megacorps propriétaires du capital, accumulent. Les phyles pauvres n’ont aucun levier. C’est un problème de relations internationales sans ONU.

Entre les deux, le choix est vite fait. Pas de nations, pas de redistribution. Le scénario phyles, c’est le scénario Robot Lords avec un habillage libertarien. Les propriétaires de la puissance de calcul forment leur communauté, gardent tout, et personne n’a le pouvoir de les contraindre. La dissolution des nations est la victoire du capital par défaut, pas par conquête, par abandon.

L’État-nation est donc la condition nécessaire. Reste un problème : avec quoi il finance ?

La déflation comme solution

Admettons que les nations l’emportent. Que l’État-nation retrouve sa souveraineté sur l’infrastructure critique et sa capacité à légiférer. Il reste un problème : avec quoi il finance ? Un État endetté à 100%+ du PIB, dont la base fiscale, i.e. le travail humain, est précisément ce qui se contracte, n’a pas les moyens de ses ambitions redistributives.

C’est là qu’il faut reprendre le problème à l’envers.

L’IA génère la force déflationniste la plus puissante de l’histoire économique. Le coût marginal des services cognitifs converge vers zéro - et potentiellement de la production physique via la robotique. Code, analyse juridique, comptabilité, design, conseil, les prix s’effondrent. Les LLMs se commoditisent. La guerre des prix entre OpenAI, Anthropic, Google, Mistral accélère la chute mois après mois.

Ce n’est pas un effondrement de la demande comme la déflation de 1929. C’est une déflation par l’abondance. Les choses coûtent moins cher parce qu’elles sont produites quasi gratuitement.

Dans un environnement structurellement déflationniste, la création monétaire n’est plus inflationniste. Si les prix baissent de 5% par an grâce à l’AI, on peut créer 5% de monnaie nouvelle sans dégrader le pouvoir d’achat. La productivité absorbe l’expansion monétaire. On ne redistribue pas. On distribue du neuf.

Le double verrou

La monnaie nouvelle existe. Reste à verrouiller l’architecture.

Premier verrou : l’entreprise. C’est Kaminska qui a la proposition la plus juste. Si le travail est remplacé par le capital, le travail reçoit une part du capital. Quand l’IA supprime un poste, l’entreprise émet au salarié déplacé de l’equity perpétuelle à dividendes, calibrée sur le gain de productivité.

Ce n’est ni du welfare ni du UBI. C’est une discipline d’allocation du capital. Concrètement : dix analystes à 80k€, remplaçables par de l’IA à 200k€/an. Économie brute : 600k€. Avec le mécanisme Kaminska, l’entreprise émet 800k€ d’equity, verse 40k€/an de dividendes perpétuels. Le calcul se tend. L’incitation bascule : faire plus avec les mêmes gens plutôt que la même chose avec moins. Expansion, pas contraction.

Deuxième verrou : l’État actionnaire. La solution Kaminska ne marche que si quelqu’un l’impose. Un État endetté dont la base fiscale fond n’a pas de levier, sauf s’il est au capital.

Taxer le compute logiciel, c’est taxer un flux qui s’effondre, les LLMs se commoditisent.

La valeur est dans la couche physique. Data centers, fonderies de semi-conducteurs, énergie nucléaire. Quand le logiciel devient gratuit, le hardware est le seul actif rare. Et l’État a financé les fondations de tout l’écosystème : DARPA, universités, CNRS, CHIPS Act.

Quand le logiciel devient gratuit, seul le hardware reste rare. C’est là que l’État doit être au capital.

Chaque euro public investi dans l’infrastructure AI : subventions, concessions, contrats nucléaires, devrait générer automatiquement une participation. Pas une nationalisation. Des golden shares, des royalties, des dividendes.

Les deux mécanismes sont distincts mais forment un système cohérent. La loi Kaminska impose la redistribution au niveau de l’entreprise, toute entreprise, qu’elle soit ou non liée à l’État. La participation au capital de l’infrastructure finance la redistribution au niveau systémique : les revenus des golden shares, royalties et dividendes alimentent le dividende universel et le quadratic funding. L’un redistribue le gain de productivité là où il se produit. L’autre finance le plancher collectif là où le marché ne va pas.

Et la monnaie nouvelle créée dans l’environnement déflationniste ? Elle va aux citoyens, pas aux marchés financiers. Sous trois formes :

Ce que savent les romanciers

Tout ce qui précède, les verrous, la monnaie, les participations, c’est de la plomberie. Et oe peut espérer que nos politiques vont se rapidement se transformer plombier, en s’emparant de ce sujet critique, cela sera peut-être suffisant pour éviter le pire à court terme. Mais ça ne répond pas à la question de fond.

Banks l’a posée. Résous le problème de la rareté matérielle et tes citoyens ne deviendront pas sereins pour autant. Ils deviendront anxieux, en quête de risque, de conflit, de sensations. Le problème n’est pas économique. Il était existentiel depuis le début.

Ursula Le Guin a aussi posé cette question de fond. Construis une société sans propriété, sans monnaie, sans hiérarchie. Elle étouffera quand même ses esprits les plus libres sous le poids du conformisme.

Stanley Robinson s’interroge de son côté. Pour lui il n’y a pas de solution finale. Il y a un processus politique permanent, conflictuel, inachevé. La transition est la destination.

Enfin, c’est probablement Chambers qui pose le sujet de la manière la plus simple. Un robot revient parmi les humains et demande : de quoi avez-vous besoin ? Personne ne sait. On a construit notre identité autour de la production. Retirez-la, et on ne sait plus ce qu’on est.

La vraie course n’est pas entre l’IA et les travailleurs. Elle est entre la vitesse de déploiement de l’IA et notre capacité à formuler une question qu’aucun économiste, aucun politicien, aucun cadre théorique mainstream ne pose correctement. Des penseurs à la marge le font, notamment tout le courant de la critique de la valeur, de Kurz à Camatte, qui diagnostique depuis des décennies que la valeur elle-même se vide de substance à mesure que le travail vivant sort de la production. Mais leur seule réponse, c’est la sécession. Quitter le monde, comme les Walkaways de Doctorow. Lucide sur le diagnostic. Muet sur la transition.

Que fait-on de nous quand on n’a plus besoin de nous ?

Il serait temps de chercher.

1. The Adoption Gap Is Real—But It’s Not About Interest

Yes, the headline number is stark: roughly 28% of Americans have exposure to crypto versus ~9–10% in Europe (with France and the UK around 12%, Germany ~8%, Italy ~5%). But framing this as a cultural or intellectual lag is lazy. Europe doesn’t lack curiosity. It lacks infrastructure.

Three structural advantages the US leveraged early:

• Integration into long-term savings: Crypto exposure through ETFs and even 401(k) plans made it a normal allocation choice, not a fringe bet.

• Capital formation & listed champions: Coinbase (and others) went public, legitimising the sector and giving retail a trusted on-ramp.

• A single deep market: One rulebook (more or less), one language, one pool of 300M consumers.

Meanwhile in Europe:

• Regulatory fragmentation until MiCA: 27 interpretations, 27 tax codes.

• Banking hesitation: documented reluctance to touch crypto custody or distribution.

• No scaled, listed European crypto champions (yet).

The shift has begun. Since 2023, retail banks and fintechs—Sparkassen, BBVA, Revolut, now BoursoBank—are opening the taps. MiCA gives everyone the same map, finally. And the demographic base is widening: the 35–54 cohort is catching up, with a more strategic, wealth-preservation mindset.

The question isn’t “Should Europe move?” It’s “Can we build a smooth, sovereign, regulated access path at the speed of demand?”

2. Two Models of Power: The US Industrialises, Europe Codifies

This is the core asymmetry of today’s financial geopolitics:

• Europe regulated first (MiCA), then hoped the market would follow. It’s consistent with our legal culture—prevention, transparency, investor protection. But it arrived before the ecosystem matured, without unified fiscal levers or a real capital markets union. Result: a beautiful rulebook without a production line.

• The US let private initiative rip—sometimes painfully (FTX)—but out of that chaos came giants. Coinbase, Circle, Kraken, Chainalysis, Anchorage… all scaled under existing rules (SEC/CFTC) rather than under a bespoke “Crypto Act”. The Bitcoin ETF approval in January 2024 was a masterstroke of absorption: a native crypto asset wrapped in a familiar, regulated envelope. BlackRock’s fund alone is now north of $70bn in AUM. That’s not a product; that’s institutionalisation.

• The current US administration has a tech-sovereignty doctrine: AI + crypto as strategic levers. Washington isn’t shouting “Web3 leadership” from the rooftops; it’s just doing it—via markets, not memos.

Europe remains brilliant on compliance, hesitant on capital, and silent on industrial strategy. Regulation is necessary. It is not sufficient.

“MiCA is an Airbus-sized regulation. But without an industrial engine behind it, it’s taxiing in circles.”

3. MiCA: Strategic Asset or Administrative Layer?

Before MiCA, Europe was a regulatory patchwork. MiCA solves that—on paper. It gives:

• A single passport for crypto service providers.

• A common vocabulary for tokens, custody, disclosures.

But it also sits on top of MiFID, not beside it. For many firms, that’s double work, double ambiguity:

• Which framework applies when a token looks like a security?

• How do you reconcile two sets of reporting and prudential rules?

MiCA can become an advantage if—and only if—execution is homogeneous, predictable, and fast. Europe’s problem isn’t writing laws; it’s aligning their application.

“Regulation doesn’t create adoption. Clarity does.”

4. Stablecoins & Tokenisation: Monetary Power, Not Just Tech Toys

Stablecoins are no longer a side quest. They’re monetary instruments with geopolitical consequences.

The USD Advantage

USD stablecoins (USDT, USDC…) do three things brilliantly:

1. Export the dollar onto blockchains, borderlessly.

2. Accelerate cross-border settlement in USD without touching the legacy rails.

3. Finance US debt: reserves are parked in T-Bills. It’s soft power, tokenised.

Europe’s Constraint

• No unified sovereign bond market to collateralise a credible euro stablecoin. Bunds, OATs, BTPs—there’s no single, deep, fungible asset base.

• MiCA’s EMT/ART regimes are strict, but there’s no fiscal carrot. Result: few serious euro issuers.

• The digital euro remains a top-down project with little developer or merchant pull.

And the China Factor

China doesn’t appear in the adoption gap story—but it dominates the infrastructure story. The e-CNY (digital yuan) is already live in real commerce, plugged into super-apps like WeChat. Over 90% of Chinese citizens are fintech-native. A Vietnamese supplier can get paid instantly in digital yuan by a Chinese manufacturer. No bank. No dollar. No friction.

Europe is squeezed between a tokenised dollar zone and a platform-driven yuan zone, with neither the speed of the former nor the integration of the latter.

“A stablecoin is a T-Bill with a UI. Without a unified euro debt market, there’s no fuel in the tank.”

5. From Prudence to Power: Eight Levers Europe Can Pull Now

Europe has the raw material: legal talent, technical talent, respected regulators, a robust banking system, institutional transparency. What’s missing is a systems view—connecting capital, regulation, and innovation.

Here’s a practical agenda:

1. Complete the Capital Markets Union
   Implement the Letta/Draghi recommendations. One market for funding, not 27 silos.

2. Create a European Tech Company Statute
   A single legal/fiscal framework for high-growth startups to scale in the EU, not in Zurich, London or Dubai.

3. Launch a Pan-European Sovereign VC Fund
   €10bn+ anchored by the EIB to back true champions, not prototypes.

4. Align MiCA & MiFID Under One Roof
   End the double compliance trap. One supervisor, one taxonomy for tokenised finance.

5. Offer a Tokenised Savings Plan (PEA Web3)
   Let Europeans invest—tax efficiently—in tokenised assets and regulated crypto ETPs.

6. Incentivise Euro Stablecoins
   Reduce capital gains tax on gains realised in euro stablecoins to seed network effects.

7. Standardise Euro Debt as Collateral
   Issue “red/green” Eurobonds that can back euro stablecoins and DeFi collateral safely.

8. Build Talent & Sandboxes
   ESMA-led DeFi/tokenisation sandbox + train 100,000 Solidity/Move developers by 2030.

“Europe doesn’t need more rules. It needs levers.”

6. The Closing Argument

Europe can still lead the programmable finance era—but not by being the best student of yesterday. It must move from compliance-first to architecture-first, from prudence to power. The crypto conversation is no longer about a niche asset class; it’s about the rails, liquidity, and credibility of tomorrow’s capital markets.

We have MiCA. Great. Now we need: markets, money, and muscle.

Let’s stop asking if Europe should join the race. Let’s build the track.

English version

I finished reading Philip R. Lane’s latest remarks from the backseat of a Parisian taxi. The city lights flickered through the window, still buzzing from a long evening of wine and discussion aboard a péniche on the Seine. The CoinShares France team had gathered for our summer party—a floating salon where laughter, market takes, and hard questions about the future of money mingled freely under the stars.

The conversation had turned toward Europe’s structural weaknesses, its monetary fault lines, its technological inertia. We had debated digital assets, stablecoins, capital controls—questions that now feel less theoretical and more urgent. The Seine kept flowing. But we all knew: the river of capital doesn’t wait for policy consensus.

In that quiet moment of reflection, Lane's words felt less like policy and more like prophecy. He outlined the ECB's monetary agenda in tones both cautious and calculated. The inflation fight, he claims, is mostly behind us. The new focus: keeping it at bay amid trade uncertainty, fiscal drift, and structural volatility. A recent rate cut by 25 basis points was meant to re-anchor inflation expectations—a nod to just how nervous the ECB remains about fragility becoming permanence.

But the heart of his address was elsewhere. Lane pushes for what he calls a "resilient financial architecture"—one that includes deeper capital markets, a full banking union, a digital euro, and most provocatively, a new supply of euro-denominated safe assets.

His proposal: common European bonds—"blue bonds"—backed by joint fiscal capacity, guaranteed collectively by all member states. These would sit alongside national "red bonds," which individual countries would continue to issue alone. He borrows the idea from Blanchard and Ubide.

The mechanism appears simple: each member state would earmark a portion of their tax revenues—say 25%—into a common pool to guarantee these famous blue bonds. These would benefit from the collective signature of the entire eurozone. No more Italian, Greek, or French risk: pure European AAA. Investors would rush to buy them.

Meanwhile, the remaining 75% of national debt would continue to be issued as red bonds, bearing only the name of the issuing country. Italy for Italy, France for France, without mutualization.

On paper, it's seductive. Even elegant. Europe finally united by liquidity, with safe assets that would rival US Treasuries. But reality has a texture. It scratches and resists.

Imagine you are French or Italian. Your nation has built up a mountain of debt to preserve social peace. Now, under Lane's blueprint, 25% of that debt gets the honor of being "ennobled" into blue bonds, benefiting from German and Dutch guarantees. Fantastic! But what happens to the rest?

The remaining three-quarters—the majority of your public debt—automatically gets catalogued as red bonds. Second-tier. Without collective guarantee. And here, markets do their calculations: if even Europe only guarantees 25% of Italian debt, then the remaining 75% must be... risky.

The cruel paradox: by creating a "premium" category, you automatically downgrade everything else. Yields on Italian red bonds spike. Spreads with Germany widen. Investors flee to blue bonds, deemed safer, abandoning red ones to their fate.

But why would these red bonds become "junk"? Here lies the system's perversity.

First, there's the signaling effect. When Europe itself decides to guarantee only 25% of your debt, it sends a clear message to markets: "Careful, the remaining 75% is too risky for us to mutualize." It's an admission of weakness disguised as reform.

Then there's the rating agency mechanics. Moody's, S&P, and Fitch won't sit idle. Faced with this dual system, they'll logically adjust their grids. If blue bonds deserve AAA thanks to collective guarantee, what do red bonds—stripped of this backing—deserve? Massive downgrades become inevitable.

Finally, there's capital flight. Pension funds, insurers, central banks—all these institutional investors have strict mandates. They must buy "investment grade," not "speculative grade." Once agencies downgrade Italian or French red bonds, these giants no longer have the right to hold them. Forced selling. Price collapse.

It's a programmed vicious circle: the more red bonds lose value, the more expensive borrowing becomes for states, the more their fiscal situation deteriorates, the more agencies downgrade them. And so on, until junk status.

The result? Italy ends up borrowing more expensively than before on 75% of its financing needs, while having ceded part of its fiscal sovereignty to guarantee the remaining 25%. It loses on all fronts.

This isn’t just a financial structure—it’s a message. From the center to the periphery: conform or bleed.

We’ve been here before. Austerity enforced from above. Growth starved out. Hope outsourced. Lane calls it coordination. I call it fracture management. Because when liquidity is centralized but accountability remains local, pressure builds. Quietly. Until it doesn’t.

Then there’s the digital euro—a project dressed in sovereignty, but stitched together by committees. MiCA requires euro stablecoins to be backed mostly by bank deposits. Not sovereign debt. Not public infrastructure. Not the real economy. Just deposits. Dead weight in vaults. Compare this with the American model: stablecoins collateralized with T-Bills. A way to attract capital. A subtle way to finance the empire. That’s strategy. The digital euro? It's choreography.

Christine Lagarde dreams of a global reserve currency. But reserve status is not a mood. It's a structure. One that demands cohesion—fiscal, military, political. None of which Europe currently has.

What we do have is a strong currency and weak cohesion. And it is eating the South alive. Twenty years of deindustrialization. Youth unemployment as a policy failure turned permanent. Tariffs from abroad, fragmentation within. And so, to survive, the South borrows. It has no other tool.

Charles Gave sees the endgame clearly: two paths. Either the euro becomes a true federal currency, or Germany walks. And if Germany walks, the mask slips. We get two euros. North and South. Hard and soft. One stable. One devalued.

What does that mean for you? If you're in the South, it means a stealth haircut on everything you’ve saved. If you're in the North, it means you're backing liabilities that aren’t yours. Either way, the eurozone as we know it doesn’t hold.

So what do you do?

You step sideways. You hedge the system. Not with ideology, but with exit velocity. You buy Bitcoin.

If you’re in France, it’s a shield. If you’re in Germany, it’s a fallback. If you’re in Europe, it’s the part of the future that won’t ask you to choose between austerity and fantasy.

Bitcoin matters. Not as rebellion. As realism.

And in the age of engineered monetary narratives, realism is the rarest asset of all.

French Version

Bitcoin au service des citoyens Européens

Hier soir, j'ai fini de lire les réflexions Philip R. Lane de la BCE dans un taxi parisien. La ville défilait derrière la vitre, l'esprit encore imprégné d'une soirée passée à débattre sur une péniche amarrée aux quais de Seine. Notre équipe CoinShares France célébrait l'été dans ce salon flottant où se mêlaient rires, réflexions sur les marchés et questions existentielles sur l'avenir de la monnaie.

Enivrés de rosé et de vins blancs acides, nous avions parlé des fragilités européennes, de ces failles qui traversent notre système monétaire, de cette lenteur, propre à l’Union Européenne, face aux révolutions numériques. Actifs digitaux, stablecoins, contrôles de capitaux : autant de sujets qui ne relèvent plus de la théorie mais de l'urgence. La Seine coulait paisiblement sous nos pieds, mais nous le savions tous : derrière cette douceur parisienne, les bouleversements se préparaient.

Dans le silence du taxi, les mots de Lane résonnaient différemment. Moins comme un programme que comme un avertissement. Il nous explique que l'inflation est maîtrisée, que le défi maintenant c'est de l'y maintenir malgré les guerres commerciales, les déficits qui se creusent et cette volatilité devenue structurelle. Sa dernière baisse de 25 points de base ? Un signal pour rassurer les marchés. Mais aussi l'aveu d'une inquiétude profonde : et si cette fragilité devenait notre normalité ?

Lane a une vision. Une "architecture financière résiliente" qu'il appelle de ses vœux. Des marchés de capitaux enfin développés, une vraie union bancaire, un euro numérique, et surtout - c'est là que ça devient intéressant - de nouveaux actifs sûrs européens.

Voici son plan : créer des "obligations bleues" européennes, garanties collectivement par tous les États membres, qui cohabiteraient avec les "obligations rouges" nationales que chaque pays continuerait d'émettre seul. Une idée qu'il emprunte à Blanchard et Ubide.

Le mécanisme est simple en apparence : chaque État membre affecterait une partie de ses recettes fiscales - disons 25% - dans un pot commun pour garantir ces fameuses obligations bleues. Ces dernières bénéficieraient donc de la signature collective de toute la zone euro. Plus de risque italien, grec ou français : du pur AAA européen. Les investisseurs se rueraient dessus.

Pendant ce temps, les 75% restants de la dette nationale continueraient d'être émis sous forme d'obligations rouges, portant le seul nom du pays émetteur. L'Italie pour l'Italie, la France pour la France, sans mutualisation.

Sur le papier, c'est séduisant. Élégant même. L'Europe enfin unie par la liquidité, avec des actifs sûrs qui rivaliseraient avec les bons du Trésor américain. Mais la réalité, c'est moins romantique.

Mettez-vous à la place d'un Italien ou d'un Français. Votre pays s'est endetté pour maintenir la paix sociale. Aujourd'hui, on vous dit qu'un quart de cette dette va être "nobélisée" en obligations bleues, bénéficiant de la garantie allemande et néerlandaise. Fantastique ! Mais que devient le reste ?

Les trois quarts restants - la majorité de votre dette publique - se retrouvent automatiquement catalogués comme obligations rouges. De seconde zone. Sans garantie collective. Et là, les marchés font leurs calculs : si même l'Europe ne garantit que 25% de la dette italienne, c'est que les 75% restants sont... risqués.

Le paradoxe cruel : en créant une catégorie "premium", vous déclassez automatiquement tout le reste. Les taux sur les obligations rouges italiennes s'envolent. L'écart avec l'Allemagne se creuse. Les investisseurs fuient vers les obligations bleues, réputées plus sûres, abandonnant les rouges à leur sort.

Mais pourquoi ces obligations rouges deviendraient-elles du "junk" ? C'est là toute la perversité du système.

D'abord, il y a l'effet de signal. Quand l'Europe elle-même décide de ne garantir que 25% de votre dette, elle envoie un message clair aux marchés : "Attention, les 75% restants sont trop risqués pour qu'on les mutualise." C'est un aveu de faiblesse déguisé en réforme.

Ensuite, il y a la mécanique des agences de notation. Moody's, S&P et Fitch ne vont pas rester les bras croisés. Face à ce système dual, elles vont logiquement ajuster leurs grilles. Si les obligations bleues méritent un AAA grâce à la garantie collective, que méritent les rouges qui en sont dépourvues ? Un déclassement massif devient inévitable.

Enfin, il y a la fuite des capitaux. Les fonds de pension, les assureurs, les banques centrales - tous ces investisseurs institutionnels ont des mandats stricts. Ils doivent acheter du "investment grade", pas du "speculative grade". Dès que les agences dégradent les obligations rouges italiennes ou françaises, ces mastodontes n'ont plus le droit de les détenir. Vente forcée. Effondrement des prix.

C'est un cercle vicieux programmé : plus les obligations rouges perdent en valeur, plus les États doivent emprunter cher, plus leur situation budgétaire se dégrade, plus les agences les dégradent. Et ainsi de suite, jusqu'au junk.

Résultat ? L'Italie se retrouve à emprunter plus cher qu'avant sur 75% de ses besoins de financement, tout en ayant cédé une partie de sa souveraineté fiscale pour garantir les 25% restants. Elle perd sur tous les tableaux.

Le message est clair : du centre vers la périphérie, conformez-vous ou crevez.

On connaît la suite. L'austérité imposée d'en haut. La croissance sacrifiée. L'espoir confisqué. Lane appelle ça de la coordination. Moi, j'appelle ça une gestion de crise permanente. Parce que centraliser la liquidité tout en laissant la responsabilité aux États, c'est créer une cocotte-minute. Et un jour, elle explose.

Regardez l'euro numérique. Présenté comme un projet souverain, mais conçu par des bureaucrates. La réglementation MiCA oblige les stablecoins euros à être adossés principalement à des dépôts bancaires. Pas à de la dette souveraine. Pas à l'économie réelle. Juste à des dépôts qui dorment dans des coffres. Comparez avec les États-Unis : leurs stablecoins sont collatéralisés par des bons du Trésor. Ils attirent les capitaux et financent leur déficit au passage. C'est intelligent. Nous, on fait du théâtre.

Christine Lagarde rêve d'une monnaie de réserve mondiale. Mais le statut de réserve ne se décrète pas. Il se construit. Il faut une cohésion budgétaire, militaire, politique. Nous n'avons rien de tout ça.

Ce que nous avons, c'est une monnaie forte avec une cohésion faible. Et cette contradiction tue le Sud à petit feu. Vingt ans de désindustrialisation. Un chômage des jeunes devenu chronique. Des tarifs douaniers qui viennent d'ailleurs, une fragmentation qui vient de chez nous. Pour survivre, le Sud emprunte. Il n'a pas le choix.

Charles Gave le dit mieux que moi : il y a deux issues. Soit l'euro devient fédéral pour de bon, soit l'Allemagne part. Et si l'Allemagne part, on se retrouve avec deux euros. Un du Nord, solide. Un du Sud, dévalué.

Qu'est-ce que ça signifie pour vous ? Si vous vivez au Sud, votre épargne fond en douce. Si vous vivez au Nord, vous payez pour les autres. Dans tous les cas, l'euro tel qu'on le connaît ne tiendra pas.

Alors que faire ?

Sortez du cadre. Protégez-vous. Pas par idéologie, mais par pragmatisme. Achetez du Bitcoin.

En France, c'est une assurance. En Allemagne, c'est un plan B. En Europe, c'est votre part d'avenir qui ne dépend ni de Bruxelles ni de Francfort.

Bitcoin compte. Pas comme une révolution. Comme une évidence.

Dans un monde où les banquiers centraux écrivent des contes de fées, l'évidence devient l'actif le plus précieux.

Version Française

La dette n’est plus ce qu’elle fut. Historiquement, elle désignait une forme d’assujettissement : on devait parce qu’on manquait, on remboursait parce qu’on craignait. Le débiteur portait le stigmate de la dépendance ; le créancier incarnait, au contraire, la force, la patience, l’autorité. Cette configuration morale semblait stable, presque universelle. On ne prête pas aux pauvres, disait-on ; on leur impose, tout au plus, le devoir de se sacrifier.

Mais tout cela paraît s’être renversé. Aujourd’hui, la nation la plus puissante du monde — les États-Unis — est aussi la plus endettée. Ce n’est pourtant pas un handicap : c’est une position. Mieux, c’est une fonction impériale. Dans le même temps, les plus riches des individus — les oligarques de la Silicon Valley, Bernard Arnault, les gestionnaires de fonds, les capitaines d’industrie — s’endettent sans cesse, non pas pour survivre, mais pour acquérir : entreprises, brevets, influence, leviers. La dette, désormais, ne signale plus une faiblesse : elle atteste d’un pouvoir.

Ce n’est pas un paradoxe. C’est un déplacement de structure. Le pouvoir, aujourd’hui, se loge précisément dans la capacité à contracter des dettes sans avoir à les rembourser — ou à ne les rembourser que dans les termes que l’on aura soi-même dictés. Les États-Unis empruntent dans leur propre monnaie, auprès de créanciers qu’ils protègent militairement, dans un système financier qu’ils ont eux-mêmes façonné. Leur dette n’est pas une dépendance : c’est une matrice de dépendances. Elle fait système.

Plus profondément, cette dette est soutenue par ce que l’on pourrait appeler une logique de l’instabilité fonctionnelle. Car tant que le monde demeure dangereux, incertain, fragmenté, les États-Unis restent indispensables. Ce n’est pas seulement leur armée, ni même leur technologie, qui les rend centraux : c’est le chaos. Ils ne garantissent pas la paix — ils garantissent une forme de continuité dans le désordre. Ils sont l’ultime recours, le stabilisateur de dernier ressort, le pilier autour duquel s’agrègent, par réflexe ou par résignation, les nations désorientées.

Dans cette perspective, l’instabilité n’est plus une menace à conjurer, mais une énergie à canaliser. Il ne s’agit pas de provoquer le chaos, mais de le maintenir — à un niveau suffisamment élevé pour nourrir la dépendance, mais pas assez pour déclencher la rupture. C’est une géopolitique du désordre gouverné. L’Afghanistan, l’Irak, la Libye, la Syrie, l’Ukraine, Israel - Gaza/Iran — autant de théâtres où l’on n’a pas cherché à vaincre, ni même à pacifier, mais à produire une certaine forme de durabilité du conflit.

Cela ne relève pas de la malveillance, mais d’une forme d’intelligence systémique : dans l’architecture impériale contemporaine, la paix n’est pas rentable. Elle relâche la tension, elle affaiblit les justifications, elle crée de l’autonomie. Elle permet aux alliés de se détacher, aux ennemis de se réconcilier, aux blocs de se redessiner. La paix n’est pas seulement improbable : elle est contre-productive.

C’est sans doute dans cette logique qu’il faut comprendre la stratégie de Donald Trump — laquelle, sous ses dehors désordonnés, procède d’une intuition redoutablement cohérente. Il exige que les alliés se réarment, non pas pour qu’ils deviennent souverains, mais pour qu’ils achètent davantage d’armes américaines. Il ne veut pas des partenaires libres : il veut des clients, des investisseurs, des créditeurs captifs. Il transforme la dépendance militaire en dépendance logistique, technologique, doctrinale. L’illusion d’autonomie devient, en réalité, le degré suprême de la sujétion.

Il en résulte un monde paradoxal : un monde où l’instabilité n’est plus l’ennemie de l’ordre, mais sa condition de possibilité.
Un monde où la dette n’est plus un outil de régulation, mais un vecteur d’emprise.
Un monde où les empires ne conquièrent plus : ils attirent, désorientent, déstabilisent puis absorbent, contraignent par la dette et par la peur.

Ce monde, le nôtre, n’est pas celui de la guerre froide ni de la paix libérale. Il est celui d’une paix asymétrique, d’une stabilité déséquilibrée — une paix à crédit, garantie par la dette d’un empire et l’angoisse d’une fragilité résurgente.

Dans ce contexte, la véritable subversion c’est l’équilibre.
La véritable menace n’est pas la guerre. C’est la fin de la menace.
Et la véritable hérésie, c’est la paix.

English Version

Debt is supposed to be a sign of weakness. It traditionally marks those who depend on others to survive—those who borrow what they cannot produce or control, who commit themselves out of necessity, and repay under moral pressure. For centuries, economic textbooks, religious texts, and political doctrines have associated the debtor with guilt, obligation, and subordination. The creditor is imagined as powerful, sovereign; the debtor, dependent and bound.

Yet this logic has inverted. Today, the most indebted entities in the world are also the most powerful—above all, the United States. Far from being punished for its debt, the U.S. is strengthened by it. Likewise, private economic elites—multinational corporations, financial giants, and billionaires—use debt strategically, leveraging it to acquire ever more capital, assets, and influence. Meanwhile, the poor and the structurally dependent—developing nations, precarious workers, the global South—are either denied credit altogether or burdened with punitive repayment obligations.

This is not a paradox. It is a system. In the contemporary order, debt is not a constraint on the powerful—it is a tool they wield. The real stigma of debt, and the moral obligation to repay, applies only to those who cannot escape it. For the rich, debt is an opportunity. For the weak, it is a sentence.

The debt of the United States is the clearest example of this new logic. Far from being a fiscal vulnerability, U.S. public debt is the foundation of its global power. The U.S. borrows in its own currency, from creditors it dominates militarily and politically, within a global financial architecture it designed. U.S. Treasury bonds are bought en masse by allies—Japan, South Korea, Germany, Saudi Arabia—not just as a financial asset, but as a geopolitical pledge. Buying U.S. debt is not just investment; it is allegiance.

And this allegiance is not merely economic—it is strategic. The United States is not just the issuer of the dollar. It is the world's ultimate security guarantor. Its vast military apparatus, network of bases, and nuclear umbrella constitute a global system of protection. For many states, holding U.S. debt is a form of insurance: against regional threats, global instability, and, implicitly, the empire itself.

From this perspective, global instability is not a threat to the American-led order. It is its fuel.

The more unpredictable the world becomes—through war, geopolitical tension, terrorism, or systemic risk—the more central the U.S. appears. Every crisis reaffirms its indispensability: as military hegemon, financial backstop, and moral arbiter. The demand for dollars rises. The need for American protection deepens. The purchase of U.S. debt increases.

In this sense, instability is not a failure of the system. It is its operating principle.

This recontextualizes decades of U.S. foreign policy. From Iraq to Afghanistan, from Libya to Ukraine, conflicts are not resolved—they are prolonged, managed, sustained in a condition of entropy just short of collapse. These are not policy mistakes; they are outcomes. The U.S. does not need to win wars. It needs to preserve a calibrated state of disorder—serious enough to justify its continued dominance, but not so catastrophic as to threaten its core interests.

This logic is mirrored in the economic realm. As long as the global South remains dependent on Western aid, IMF liquidity, and dollar-denominated debt, it cannot organize an autonomous bloc. As long as Europe remains exposed to threats (real or imagined) from Russia or instability in the Middle East, it will continue to rely on NATO—and by extension, the United States—for defense. Even when allies are encouraged to "rearm," as in Donald Trump's transactional diplomacy, it is with American-made weapons, embedded in American-controlled systems, and calibrated to ensure strategic dependence.

This is not autonomy. It is satellization disguised as sovereignty.

In such a world, U.S. public debt is not a fiscal burden. It is imperial infrastructure. It is sustained not by budgetary discipline, but by a web of political, military, and symbolic interdependencies. Its credibility is backed not only by the dollar, but by the aircraft carrier, the security pact, and the permanent emergency. Peace, in this system, is not a universal good—it is a strategic risk. A multipolar, stabilized world would reduce demand for the dollar, for American weapons, for U.S. debt.

The conclusion is stark: the United States has a structural interest in maintaining global instability. Not chaos, not collapse—but a permanent low-level disorder that reinforces its role as the world’s indispensable power.

Thus, we must cease to think of debt as purely financial, or instability as a temporary crisis. Together, they form the dual scaffolding of the American-led order: a regime where power is exercised not through territorial conquest, but through monetary gravity and strategic insecurity. Debt circulates like a currency of submission; instability is administered like a utility.

In this empire of managed chaos, the true threat is not war—it is equilibrium. The true heresy is peace.

I believe technology isn't adopted just for its practical benefits. It becomes popular when it reflects the dominant ideology of the time - what we call the Zeitgeist or spirit of the times.

The developments since Trump's return to power have been striking. The Trump Coin, tariffs, tensions with allies, the spread of fake news - all these show the emergence of a world where isolationism, imperialism, and the restriction of individual freedoms are becoming the norm.

In this article, I explore why Bitcoin isn't just a technological innovation, but the perfect monetary expression of this new Zeitgeist. I'm not making moral judgments - I'm simply connecting emerging ideas with this new currency that seems perfectly suited to the world taking shape.

The connections I'll examine:

• Bitcoin & Reactionary Accelerationism, what I call Accelereactionnism

• Bitcoin & Techno-cesarism

• Bitcoin & Capitalism of Finitude

Bitcoin & Accelereactionism (accelerationnism + reaction)

Trump's coalition represents a fascinating political alchemy: the fusion of seemingly incompatible forces—acceleration and reaction. Lorenzo Castellani aptly describes this as "accélération réactionnaire"—a new coalition where Silicon Valley tech visionaries coexist with America's most geographically, culturally, and socially peripheral voters. Their common ground? A desire to break free from constraints—regulatory, cultural, and economic—while simultaneously protecting identity and sovereignty.

Bitcoin embodies this paradox perfectly. On one hand, it represents radical technological acceleration: a decentralized digital currency functioning outside traditional monetary systems, promising borderless transactions and algorithmic governance. It's the ultimate tool for those who wish to propel us into a techno-futurist world unencumbered by legacy financial institutions.

Yet Bitcoin also carries profoundly reactionary elements. Its fixed supply (capped at 21 million coins), similar to gold, the oldest asset, rejects the modern monetary theory of unlimited fiat expansion. Its proof-of-work consensus mechanism explicitly values computational "work"—a digital parallel to the traditionalist valorization of tangible labor. Perhaps most tellingly, Bitcoin's philosophy harks back to gold-standard economics, a monetary conservatism explicitly rejecting post-1971 monetary policy.

Bitcoin thus mirrors Trump's new coalition: accelerationist in its technological means, reactionary in its ends. Elon Musk, exemplifies this duality, championing both futuristic SpaceX rockets and Bitcoin's gold-like scarcity. Bitcoin appeals equally to tech libertarians dreaming of algorithmic governance and Main Street Americans distrustful of Washington's monetary policy.

Bitcoin is the monetary manifestation of a world simultaneously racing toward the future while yearning for aspects of the past. It's not coincidental that Bitcoin's rise aligned with the populist wave that brought Trump to power in 2016, nor that it has found renewed momentum during his return. The cryptocurrency serves as the perfect financial vehicle for an era defined by acceleration and reaction fused into a single, potent political force.

Bitcoin & Techno-cesarism

Classical cesarism—from Julius Caesar to Napoleon—was characterized by direct relationships between leaders and people, bypassing traditional power structures and intermediaries. In our digital age, this phenomenon has evolved into what we might call techno-cesarism: the creation of direct relationships between technology and people, circumventing established institutional frameworks.

Bitcoin embodies this cesarist impulse. It creates a direct relationship between people and money without traditional intermediaries like banks, payment processors, or central banks. The rallying cry "be your own bank" captures this essence—a promise of monetary sovereignty at the individual level, unmediated by institutions that claim to represent collective interests but operate with minimal democratic input.

This disintermediation mirrors Trump's political style. Just as Trump communicates directly with his base through social media, bypassing traditional media gatekeepers, Bitcoin enables direct financial transactions without institutional approval. Both represent a revolt against layers of intermediation that populist movements view as corrupted or compromised.

Critics often mischaracterize Bitcoin as simply replacing one elite (bankers) with another (miners and whales). This misses the cesarist element that makes Bitcoin appealing: the perception of a more direct relationship with monetary value. While central banks maintain a facade of technocratic independence, they remain embedded in political-economic power structures. Bitcoin, despite its imperfections, offers a transparent ruleset anyone can verify—a monetary constitution written in code rather than obscured by technocratic jargon.

The convergence between Trump and tech leaders like Musk and Thiel represents a fundamental alignment around power and intermediation. When Thiel declares that "competition is for losers," he's articulating an important truth about network economics: the goal isn't to compete within existing systems but to create new monopolistic platforms that connect users directly. PayPal (which Thiel co-founded) didn't try to be a better bank; it created direct payment rails between individuals. SpaceX doesn't try to be a better NASA contractor; it establishes direct access to space.

This mirrors what Bitcoin accomplishes in the monetary realm. It doesn't attempt to reform central banking—it creates an entirely new monetary network where users connect directly. The value doesn't come from competing within the system; it comes from owning the rails themselves. This is cesarism adapted for the digital age: direct power relationships replacing mediated ones.

Trump's administration recognizes this power dynamic. The MAGA movement itself operates as a direct connection between Trump and his supporters, bypassing traditional political structures. By incorporating figures like Musk into his orbit, Trump isn't just adding business expertise—he's embracing network architects who understand how to build systems that connect people directly while accumulating power at the protocol level.

In a world where trust in intermediaries has collapsed, Bitcoin's techno-cesarism offers an alternative: a monetary system where the relationship between people and money is direct, transparent, and governed by rules that no single entity can change unilaterally.

Bitcoin & Capitalism of finitude

Arnaud Orain's concept of "capitalisme de la finitude" provides an illuminating framework for understanding Bitcoin's place in our current economic moment. This form of capitalism emerges cyclically throughout history when resources are perceived as finite and the economic game shifts from positive-sum to zero-sum thinking.

Bitcoin was designed as a response to perceived resource scarcity—not of natural resources but of monetary soundness itself. Satoshi Nakamoto's white paper, released during the 2008 financial crisis, portrayed central bank monetary policy as inherently corrupt and inflationary. The solution? A digital currency with an absolute cap on supply, mimicking the scarcity of gold in a digital realm.

This artificial scarcity is Bitcoin's defining feature. By limiting the total supply to 21 million coins, Bitcoin rejects the core premise of post-1971 monetary policy: that currency supply should expand with economic activity. Instead, it embraces the mercantile view that money itself is a finite resource to be accumulated rather than a medium that should flow freely to facilitate exchange.

The timing of Bitcoin's resurrection during Trump's second term is telling. As Orain points out, we've entered a period characterized by "la progressive disparition de la scène mondiale du libéralisme économique." (The progressive disappearance of economic liberalism from the world stage) The free trade and multilateral cooperation that defined the post-1945 and post-1989 orders are giving way to what Branko Milanovic calls the perception of commerce as a zero-sum game.

Bitcoin thrives in this environment because it transforms monetary policy itself into a competitive arena—a race to accumulate a finite resource. Its energy-intensive mining process directly connects monetary creation to resource consumption, making explicit what mercantilism always “understood”: that economic advantage comes through resource control, not mutual exchange.

As the global order fragments into competing imperial "silos" with tariff barriers and resource nationalism, Bitcoin offers a parallel financial system designed for precisely this world. It's deflationary by design, rewarding hoarding over circulation, accumulation over exchange—the perfect currency for a capitalism of finitude where everyone is scrambling to secure their piece of a supposedly limited pie.

The irony is that Bitcoin's artificial scarcity comes at enormous cost—computational power, electricity, mining equipment—consuming very real finite resources to maintain digital scarcity. In this sense, Bitcoin isn't just adapted to the capitalism of finitude; it actively reinforces its underlying logic of resource competition and zero-sum thinking.

Conclusion

The relationship between technology and ideology is inherently dialectical. Bitcoin exists simultaneously as both symptom and catalyst of this emerging world order. A comprehensive study of how Bitcoin's narratives have influenced thinkers, politicians, entrepreneurs, and citizens would reveal much about our current moment's ideological underpinnings.

I cannot pretend to be optimistic about these developments. As a European observer, I find myself in a position reminiscent of Stefan Zweig in the 1930s—watching with growing unease as familiar institutions and values crumble. We Europeans seem caught between obsolescence and irrelevance, witnesses to the death of one world order and the birth of another that appears increasingly hostile to the principles we once took for granted.

What we're experiencing isn't merely a technological or economic shift, but a fundamental realignment of power, values, and social organization. Bitcoin isn't just a new form of money—it's a harbinger of a transformed world whose contours we can only begin to discern. Whether this transformation leads to greater human flourishing or deeper entrenchment of zero-sum thinking remains to be seen, but the trajectory concerns me.

“The culture wars that have convulsed America since the sixties are best understood as a form of class warfare, in which an enlightened elite (as it thinks of itself) seeks not so much to impose its values on the majority (a majority perceived as incorrigibly racist, sexist, provincial, and xenophobic), much less to persuade the majority by means of rational public debate, as to create parallel or "alternative" institutions in which it will no longer be necessary to confront the unenlightened at all.” Christopher Lasch, The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy

Just recently, I spent a few days in my hometown—a small city in the west of France. As I walked its familiar streets, a profound sadness settled over me. The signs of deindustrialization were everywhere: shuttered stores, dilapidated buildings, and a palpable sense of stagnation. But what struck me most was a subtle yet telling detail. In Paris, even the modests sport the latest Nike sneakers. Here, however, many wore sneakers from supermarket brands, a quiet indicator of economic hardship.

As a child, I remember a place where inequalities were less stark, where the differences between the poor, the middle class, and the bourgeoisie were subtle and unspoken - I like to say the richest guy in the classroom was the son of the dentist. The working class held a sense of honor and pride. Today, these subtle gradations have given way to stark visual markers of inequality - even down to footwear choices. While Parisians of all classes sport Nike sneakers, here, supermarket brands silently telegraph economic hardship. This visceral manifestation of class division echoes through our political landscape, most notably in the recent victory of Trump over Harris in the U.S. election.

This experience made me reflect on the recent political watershed moments we've witnessed—most notably, the victory of Trump over Harris in the recent U.S. election. Though I don't align myself with right-leaning ideologies, I couldn't help but notice a certain sense of vindication. The palpable disappointment, depression and incomprehension of media commentators and key opinion leaders mirrored the disconnect between the "lecturing elite" and the realities faced by the majority. It's as if this elite believes that celebrity endorsements and polished narratives are sufficient to sway public opinion, underestimating people's ability to think independently.

Clarifying the Divide: The Autonomization of the Educated Class

One of the most significant predictors of voting patterns today is education—a phenomenon economist Noah Smith refers to as "education polarization." Education shapes not only our economic opportunities but also our worldviews and values. The rise of an educated class has transformed social structures, creating new hierarchies and divisions.

French demographer and historian Emmanuel Todd offers a compelling analysis of this phenomenon. He introduces the concept of the autonomization of the educated class, suggesting that this group has effectively seceded from the middle and working classes by creating its own set of values and norms.

Todd observes that increased access to education has led to a society where degrees and academic qualifications are key markers of social status. However, this has also resulted in polarization within the educated class itself. Those who graduate from elite institutions often occupy powerful positions, while others with less prestigious qualifications face job insecurity and limited prospects. This internal hierarchy fosters tensions and a sense of disenfranchisement among those who feel left behind despite their education.

Moreover, the educated class tends to develop its own cultural values, often embracing liberal and cosmopolitan perspectives. This can lead to a cognitive divide, where the educated elite's views on globalization, immigration, and economic policy differ significantly from those of the working class. The meritocratic belief that success is solely the result of individual talent and effort overlooks structural inequalities like socio-economic background and access to networks. This "meritocratic illusion" exacerbates feelings of alienation and frustration among those who feel marginalized.

This educational divide manifests particularly clearly in attitudes toward emerging technologies, especially cryptocurrency and Web3. Just as the sneakers in my hometown signal economic stratification, approaches to crypto reveal a deeper cognitive divide between the educated elite and the working class. The elite's perspective on crypto - viewing it primarily as a speculative tool for marginalized communities rather than a transformative technology - exemplifies their broader disconnection from working-class realities and aspirations.

The Elite's Disconnect and the Rise of Populism

The shock expressed by media commentators at Trump's victory over Harris underscores this disconnect. Many within elite circles seemed convinced that aligning with celebrities and high-profile endorsements would secure electoral success. They underestimated the depth of frustration among the general populace—a populace that feels ignored and patronized.

This isn't just about one election; it's indicative of a broader trend where large segments of society feel left behind by globalization and its corollary deindustrialization. The working class perceives an elite more interested in virtue signaling than in addressing concrete economic and social issues.

Perceptions of Crypto and Marginalized Communities

A striking example of this disconnect is how emerging technologies like cryptocurrency are presented to marginalized communities. I recall when Kamala Harris's political program included facilitating crypto investments specifically for certain groups. Initially, I thought this was a joke. It seemed to perpetuate stereotypes—that marginalized communities are primarily interested in speculative ventures, gambling or, worse, predisposed to illicit activities.

This perspective is reminiscent of French President Macron's comment that he'd rather see youths in banlieues working for Uber than engaging in unlawful activities. Such statements reveal a limited vision for the potential of these communities—a vision that confines them to low-wage, precarious jobs rather than empowering them to be innovators in emerging industries.

Viewing crypto as merely a speculative tool for the marginalized overlooks its broader potential. It reduces a complex, transformative technology to a get-rich-quick scheme, ignoring its capacity to democratize finance, disrupt traditional systems, and foster innovation.

Crypto as a Common Ground

So, what does this mean for Bitcoin and the broader crypto industry?

As I often say, when it comes to fashion, trends start in Paris and spread globally. In finance and technology, innovations typically originate in the U.S. and then permeate the world. Trump's victory may signal a shift—a resurgence of techno-optimism and a push towards liberalizing technology, potentially fostering an environment more conducive to crypto innovation and Web3 adoption.

Historically, significant political and socio-economic revolutions have emanated from the U.S.:

• The 1970s saw a revolution of morals and the liberation of youth culture.

• The 1980s brought the neoliberal revolution under Ronald Reagan, reshaping economic policies worldwide.

We may be on the cusp of another paradigm shift, where emerging technologies like crypto and Web3 become catalysts for societal change. Unlike previous technological revolutions driven by established institutions, crypto represents a grassroots movement embraced by people across different backgrounds.

Bridging the Divide Through Technology

Web3, crypto, and Bitcoin might offer an opportunity to rebuild common ground between the educated classes and the working classes. After a long period without a shared platform, these technologies convey a specific Weltanschauung—a comprehensive worldview or philosophy of life—that transcends traditional class boundaries. This shared vision presents a chance to transform the world in ways that could benefit everyone. Unlike previous technological paradigms, crypto's Weltanschauung embraces decentralization, individual sovereignty, and collective participation, values that resonate across social strata.They offer the potential to make our society more dynamic, democratic, and technologically advanced.

By engaging with these new technologies, individuals from all walks of life can create opportunities and contribute to the evolving economy. It's not solely about speculative investment; it's about participating in a movement that values decentralization, transparency, and inclusivity. A movement that is trying to find a solution to the over centralization of the economy and that aims to fight against the techno capital oligarchy.

For the educated class, it's an invitation to step outside their echo chambers and recognize that innovation and progress aren't confined to traditional institutions. Dismissing crypto because it's perceived to convey non-progressive values overlooks the technology's potential to address systemic issues. Some in the educated elite view Bitcoin skeptically, associating it with libertarianism, lack of regulation, or disruption of traditional financial systems, which they believe might undermine social welfare mechanisms and regulatory protections. While these arguments hold surface validity, they crumble under deeper scrutiny.

Reinforcing the Main Point: The Unifying Potential of Crypto

Crypto can serve as common ground—a platform where the educated class and the working class can collaborate, innovate, and build a more inclusive future. It's crucial for both groups to engage with this technology:

• For the Working Class: Crypto offers tools for financial inclusion, new job opportunities, and a way to participate in shaping the economic landscape.

• For the Educated Class: Embracing crypto can help bridge the cognitive divide, fostering understanding and collaboration with those who feel marginalized.

By coming together over a shared interest in technological advancement, we can begin to heal societal rifts. Crypto isn't just a financial instrument; it's a movement that encourages participation, rewards innovation, and values community.

Final Thoughts

The future is shaped by the choices we make today. Let's hope the educated class will stop morally despising the working class for its so-called hazardous political choices, much like they disdain Bitcoin due to perceived ideological differences. If the educated class doesn't reflect on this attitude and continues to fight for an economic status quo, it risks losing its relevance and could face backlash. An unwillingness to understand and engage with emerging movements and technologies may lead to increased division.

By embracing crypto and Web3 as common ground, we have the chance to transform the world together. It's an opportunity to make our society more inclusive and forward-thinking. The path ahead isn't predetermined by the actions of a few—it depends on our collective willingness to bridge divides and work towards common goals.

First image: Before the Internet by Kelly Puissegur

Bridget Riley, Blaze, 1964

"Speculation is not surplus-value; it is a sort of ecstasy of value, utterly detached from production and its real conditions—a pure, empty form, the purged form of value operating on nothing but its own revolving motion, its own orbital circulation."
— Jean Baudrillard

When I first stepped into the world of capital markets just over three years ago upon joining CoinShares, I felt like an outsider peering into a complex maze. Coming from a background where shaping perceptions and ideas was my daily bread, I was struck by how many seasoned investors still clung to the belief that markets are rational. They seemed convinced that the market accurately reflects the true intrinsic value of assets and that their mission is to uncover undervalued gems hidden from everyone else's sight.

But after three years immersed in this industry, I've started to see things differently. Today, the market isn't just about numbers and fundamentals; it's become a living, breathing entity influenced by the ebb and flow of perceptions and narratives.

Soros's Reflexivity and the Influence of Karl Popper: When Perception Shapes Reality

To make sense of this transformation, I revisited George Soros's concept of reflexivity, which is deeply influenced by the philosophy of Karl Popper. Soros studied under Popper at the London School of Economics, and Popper's ideas on fallibility and the open society significantly shaped his thinking.

Popper posited that our understanding of the world is inherently imperfect and that our knowledge is always provisional, subject to revision. He emphasized the importance of critical thinking and the recognition that our perceptions can influence the phenomena we seek to understand.

Building on this, Soros suggests there's a loop between how market participants perceive things and the actual market realities. Our biased views don't just sit in our heads—they influence our actions, which in turn can alter the market itself.

Soros sees speculative bubbles as a natural consequence of reflexivity. "When perceptions of market participants become increasingly detached from the underlying reality (for example, an overvaluation of assets), it can lead to a bubble," he explains. Eventually, this distortion becomes unsustainable, and the bubble bursts.

In today's market, this reflexivity is supercharged by the speed at which information—and misinformation—spreads online. However, we must question whether this concept still operates effectively in allowing investors to detect inefficiencies and anomalies. When perceptions and narratives dominate, traditional signals of overvaluation may no longer serve as reliable indicators. If reality has been deconstructed, does it still hold any significance in our investment decisions?

Jean DuBuffet, Simulacres, 1969

The Market as a Spectacle

This brings me to the idea of the market as a spectacle, much like the Situationists' "Society of the Spectacle." The market isn't just a place where assets are traded; it's a stage where images, narratives, and symbols perform for an audience hungry for the next big thing. And who is this audience? It's us—the investors.

Interestingly, the word "invest" comes from the Latin "investire," meaning "to clothe" or "to adorn." Investing, then, is like donning attire that reflects what we believe in and wish to present to the world. It's an embodiment of our values and aspirations. Tell me what you invest in, and I'll tell you who you are, what you believe in—even who you might vote for.

In this Market of the Spectacle, the spectacle produces its own reality. Lies take the shape of consensual truths. As Guy Debord wrote in Comments on the Society of the Spectacle : "The spectacular lie is not a distortion of reality, but its pure and simple suppression."

The spectacle doesn't merely manipulate facts; it creates an alternative reality that replaces genuine experience. The truth has been dissolved.

Baudrillard's concept of "simulacra" comes to mind—copies without originals. Financial instruments, derivatives, and even cryptos, tokens often feel detached from any tangible underlying asset. They exist in a realm of their own, where value isn't anchored to physical reality but floats freely based on collective belief.

Consider the phenomenon of memecoins like $PEPE, $DOGE, or $WIF, or meme tickers like $WGMI (CoinShares Bitcoin Mining ETF), $BRRR (CoinShares Spot Bitcoin ETF), and $MEME (Roundhill MEME ETF), which leverage existing memes and trends. Born out of internet culture and propelled by social media hype, these assets have seen wild fluctuations in value, driven largely by online communities and influencers. Their value is less about fundamentals and more about the narratives and sentiments they embody.

Or take the GameStop saga, where a group of retail investors rallied on Reddit to drive up the stock price—not because of the company's fundamentals, but as a collective stand against institutional short-sellers. Stocks, cryptocurrencies, ETFs—they've become exchanges of abstractions infused with beliefs, ideals, and worldviews. They're no longer just financial instruments; they're symbols in a larger narrative about technology, empowerment, and disruption.

In this spectacle-driven market, reality isn't just distorted—it's often entirely replaced. The spectacle creates its own version of truth, one that resonates with collective desires and ideologies. As investors, we're not merely participants in this market; we're also actors and audience members, each contributing to and influenced by the unfolding narratives. Understanding this dynamic is crucial, as it reshapes how we perceive value and make investment decisions in an era where the line between reality and representation has never been more blurred.

Are We in a Post-Performance World?

Another fascinating example is Cathie Wood's Ark Invest. Beyond periods of poor performance, Ark's products represent more than just investment vehicles; they're manifestations of a techno-optimist and accelerationist vision of the future. Their tagline says it all: "We Believe Innovation Is Key to Growth."

When an investor buys into Ark, they're not just purchasing a fund—they're buying into a belief system. It's a vision of the world that is liberal, pro-technology, and confident in the convergence of groundbreaking technologies leading to a deflationary world with hypergrowth.

This raises a provocative question: Is traditional performance measurement becoming obsolete? Is performance itself changing according to the zeitgeist, reflecting how certain ideas become dominant and shape market behavior? Has performance decoupled completely from reality?

Dominique Teufen, Mountainview, 2013

An AI Simulacrum Creating Value for Another Simulacrum: The $GOAT Saga

The recent $GOAT saga epitomizes the pinnacle of market simulation. When Truth Terminal, an AI avatar that created its own religion—the Goatse Gospel—and interacted with people on social media, decided to endorse the $GOAT (Goatseus Maximus) token, we witnessed something unprecedented. A simulacrum (the AI avatar) generated value for another simulacrum (the token). Today, this token is valued at approximately $600 million.

This saga illustrates the extreme extent to which the market has become a spectacle of simulacra, where value is created and propagated within layers of abstraction—fueled by narratives, memes, and the enigmatic influence of artificial intelligence.

Looking Ahead: Beyond Financial Nihilism

Some might argue that we've entered an era of financial nihilism, where traditional metrics and valuations no longer matter. But rather than focusing on the causes of this shift, what's critical is that investors understand and adapt to this change of paradigm.

The market has become a public space where beliefs and perceptions collide and compete for dominance. In this context, it's not about worrying over speculative bubbles bursting; it's about detecting the new "pump," the emerging macro or micro-trends poised to become hegemonic. It's about recognizing which ideas will capture the collective imagination and drive market movements.

Successful investors will be those who can identify these shifts early—spotting the weak signals that hint at the next big movement. It's less about dissecting balance sheets and more about understanding the narratives shaping society.

Adopting the Hubertus Bigend Approach: Redefining the Investor's Role

Let's take the example of Hubertus Bigend, the enigmatic character from William Gibson's Pattern Recognition novel. As the founder of the global consultancy Blue Ant, Bigend epitomizes the fusion of cultural insight, storytelling, and strategic thinking. He operates on the belief that by decoding hidden patterns and tapping into emerging subcultures, one can anticipate and influence market trends before they become mainstream.

Embracing this new role as investors means adopting a mindset similar to Bigend's. It's no longer sufficient to rely solely on traditional metrics and analyses; we must tune into the heartbeat of society itself. By paying close attention to cultural shifts, social movements, and emerging trends, we begin to recognize the subtle factors that influence investor sentiment and market dynamics. This isn't about chasing every new fad—it's about understanding the deeper currents (or undercurrents) that guide where collective attention and capital might flow next.

Engaging with the narratives that circulate around industries and communities becomes essential. Social media platforms and online forums are the modern-day arenas where stories gain momentum and shape perceptions. By immersing ourselves in these dialogues, much like Bigend does, we gain insights into not just what people are investing in, but why they're investing. This deeper understanding provides a competitive edge, allowing us to anticipate market movements driven by collective beliefs and emotions.

As the economy evolves into a realm where value is increasingly abstract, we find ourselves navigating a landscape that often defies traditional economic theories. Embracing this new paradigm helps us make sense of markets rooted more in perceptions than in physical reality. It's about adapting to a world where value is determined by shared beliefs, and where the intangible can hold immense power.

In essence, embracing the new role of investors means becoming storytellers and listeners, analysts and philosophers, strategists and ethicists. Like Hubertus Bigend, we must become adept at reading the cultural zeitgeist, understanding that the intersection of technology, culture, and narrative is where new opportunities arise. By blending analytical rigor with creative insight, we position ourselves not just to navigate—but to actively shape—the evolving landscape of modern markets.

Final Thoughts

The market as a spectacle isn't just a metaphor—it's the reality we're operating in. By recognizing the autonomization of value and understanding that the market is an exchange of different abstractions loaded with various narratives and meanings, we can better grasp the forces at play.

References

• Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. (1981). Translated by Sheila Faria Glaser. University of Michigan Press, 1994.

• Debord, Guy. Comments on the Society of the Spectacle. (1988). Translated by Malcolm Imrie. Verso, 1990.

• Gibson, William. Pattern Recognition. (2003). G. P. Putnam's Sons.

• Soros, George. The Alchemy of Finance. (1987). John Wiley & Sons, 2003.

• Popper, Karl. The Open Society and Its Enemies. (1945). Routledge.
  

Just yesterday, over a casual lunch with one of the most brilliant lawyers in our industry, he leaned in and admitted, "When it comes to DeFi or Web3, I'm not even sure this will happen at some point." His skepticism struck a chord with me because it's a sentiment I've grappled with for a long time. Will crypto, Web3, and DeFi ever be adopted by the masses? Will they profoundly transform our digital behaviors and reorganize our society?

I don't want to inundate you with adoption metrics or the number of active wallets—that ground has been well-covered. Just last week, Andreessen Horowitz (a16z) released an excellent report highlighting key data that clearly indicates adoption is happening. Killer apps like stablecoins are being used en masse; for instance, Stripe's acquisition of crypto startup Bridge shows that stablecoins have a huge total addressable market and a clear product-market fit.

But to answer the burning question about the adoption and irreversibility of Web3 and DeFi, I found myself revisiting some old college readings—specifically, the works of Karl Marx and British philosopher Raymond Williams. Bear with me; I promise this isn't a detour into dry academic theory. Instead, it's a lens through which we can better understand what's happening in our industry right now.

Marx, the Base, and the Superstructure

According to Marx, the economic foundation of society—the "base" or "infrastructure"—is made up of the means of production like land, factories, and technologies, as well as the relations of production. This base directly determines the "superstructure," which includes institutions, culture, legal and political systems, religious beliefs, and ideologies that emanate from the economic base. In simpler terms, the economic base shapes the superstructure: our cultural and political institutions are designed to maintain the existing economic relationships.

But here's where it gets interesting.

Enter Raymond Williams

Marx's theory, while groundbreaking, has been critiqued for being too rigid and simplistic. Raymond Williams offered a more nuanced perspective:

1. Dialectical Relationship: Williams argued that the relationship between the base and superstructure isn't a one-way street. Instead, it's dialectical—meaning the superstructure (our ideas, culture, institutions) can influence and react back upon the economic base. So, our beliefs and cultural practices aren't just products of economic conditions; they can also help transform or maintain them.

2. The Superstructure Isn't Monolithic: He pointed out that the superstructure is full of conflicting ideas and forces. It's not a uniform entity but contains residual ideologies from the past and emergent ideologies challenging the status quo.

3. Culture as Active Mediation: Contrary to the idea that culture merely reflects material conditions, Williams emphasized that culture plays an active, creative role in social transformation. Through literature, art, media, and even everyday practices, culture doesn't just mirror reality—it shapes it.

Connecting the Dots: Crypto Through Williams's Eyes

This brings me back to our industry. What Williams described is precisely what's happening in the world of crypto and Web3.

A Dialectical Dance

Everything started with Bitcoin and blockchain technology, which didn't just emerge from the existing economic base—they began to influence it. Venture capitalists and private equity firms (the techno-capital) who are part of the infrastructure, started promoting ideologies that aim to transform the superstructure. They're pushing the Web3 philosophy, creating new means of production and new relations of production through tokenomics and decentralized autonomous organizations (DAOs). This isn't just about technology; it's about fostering a new culture that's gradually moving from niche communities to broader society.

For example, DAOs like MakerDAO, Friends With Benefits represent new organizational structures that challenge traditional corporate hierarchies. They enable decentralized governance, allowing stakeholders to participate directly in decision-making processes. This not only alters economic relations but also promotes cultural norms around transparency and collective responsibility.

Structures of Feeling: The Heartbeat of Web3

Williams introduced the concept of "structures of feeling"—shared ways of experiencing social reality that aren't fully formalized into institutions or ideologies. These structures often emerge through artistic works, cultural practices, and everyday behavior. They capture the mood and sensibilities characteristic of a particular period, even before they're fully conceptualized or institutionalized.

In our industry, this is palpable. There's a collective sentiment driving crypto and Web3 forward—a desire for decentralization, transparency, and democratization of resources. This isn't always explicitly stated, but it's felt. It's evident in the memes shared on Crypto Twitter, the community-driven projects, and the global collaborations happening without regard for traditional borders.

The Superstructure Is Shifting

What's fascinating is how these developments are influencing the superstructure. Institutions are beginning to take notice and even adopt elements of this new culture. For example, BlackRock and Fidelity who launched a Bitcoin and Ethereum ETF and Stripe's acquisition of crypto startup Bridge shows that established companies recognize the potential of digital assets, stablecoins and blockchain technology.

There's a blending happening—an intersection where the old meets the new, and both are transformed in the process. The residual ideologies of traditional finance and governance are being challenged by the emergent ideologies of decentralization and democratization inherent in crypto and Web3.

Our Industry's "Structure of Feeling"

Our industry is organic and rapidly evolving. There's an inherent sense of belonging to a global movement, even if it's not always fully articulated. This collective feeling is driving significant change, acting as both a form of passive resistance and an active agent of transformation. It's the "structure of feeling" that Williams talked about—a shared experience that's reshaping our social reality before it's fully institutionalized.

Consider how Crypto Twitter often feels like an alternate universe, buzzing with its own language, memes, and ethos. This culture isn't just online banter; it's a force influencing market movements, project developments, and even regulatory conversations.

The Inevitable Transformation

So, will crypto, Web3, and DeFi be adopted by the masses? Will they transform our society? If we look through the lens of Raymond Williams's theories, the answer seems to be yes.

Techno-capital, inspired by the structures of feeling within crypto, has invested billions in our industry. This investment isn't just about financial returns; it's about reshaping the superstructure. It's leading to the adoption of technologies that are materializing in new forms of organization, new business models, and new digital behaviors.

Just as the cultural revolutions of the past redefined societal norms and institutions, the Web3 and crypto culture is poised to transform the existing infrastructure. The skepticism is understandable—change is always met with resistance—but the evidence suggests that we're already on that path.

Final Thoughts

Next time someone questions whether crypto or Web3 will ever "happen," consider sharing this perspective. It's not just about technological adoption or market trends; it's about a cultural shift that's already underway. We're part of a new structure of feeling that's redefining how we interact with technology, with each other, and with the institutions that have long governed our societies.

Future is already here, it's just not very evenly distributed.