Bitcoin was not conceived as an intellectual toy for digital dilettantes. It was designed as cash â vulgar, quotidian, indispensable cash. The kind that changes hands in pubs and petrol stations, the sort that clinks in pockets and vanishes into tills. The imbeciles who speak of âsettlement layersâ and âLayer 2 scaling solutionsâ are the same sort of bureaucratic engineers who would sell you a bucket with a hole and then promise a patch as innovation. They want to turn a revolution into a spreadsheet.
The essence of Bitcoin is not its mystique, its market, or its messiah-worship; it is its capacity to scale. A word now so prostituted that the engineers who pronounce it mean the very opposite. They prattle about off-chain alchemy, desperate to mask the one unforgivable truth â that a system incapable of handling the weight of its own promise is not a system but a fraud. Bitcoin must be able to process the casual transactions of billions, not the ceremonial trades of bankers. It must live in the rhythm of small commerce â the bus fare, the sandwich, the newspaper, the 20-cent piece â or it ceases to live at all.
Forget the high priests of abstraction who tell you that âLayer 2â will save the day. Layer 2 is a euphemism for abdication. It is the cowardâs retreat from the central premise of digital cash. When a man buys coffee, he should not summon a council of cryptographic intermediaries. He should pay directly, privately, and finally. The original design was brutally simple: IP to IP, man to man, transaction to transaction. Not pooled, not mashed, not anonymised into statistical mist. Each coin discrete, each event atomic, each record singular. To obscure that is to bury the body and call the funeral progress.
The cult of aggregation has murdered the idea of money as property. Each coin, like a minted token, has its own signature â an identity in the chain of exchange, not an abstraction in a communal pool. This serial individuality is not a decorative ideal; it is the bulwark of truth in a digital world of counterfeit virtue. When every transaction is recorded as a distinct act, responsibility and ownership remain intact. Mashing coins together â the modern vice of âUTXO consolidationâ â is the digital equivalent of melting down the crown jewels to mint tokens for bureaucrats. It is the annihilation of provenance, and with it, the death of property.
Bitcoin is not the dream of anarchists but the discipline of engineers. Its privacy comes not from secrecy but from precision â from the atomic clarity of one coin, one owner, one transaction. True privacy is traceable; it leaves a path for reason, not for chaos. The anonymity fetishists who call their deceit âfreedomâ are not defenders of privacy but vandals of accountability. They long for a world where guilt dissolves in the fog of encryption, where crime wears a mask of mathematics. But freedom is the product of order, not its negation. And order requires scale.
To scale is not to grow for the sake of vanity. It is to make possible the universality of exchange. Imagine, if you will, a world where every man, woman, and machine could transact â instantly, cheaply, and privately â in coins worth fractions of a cent, and still maintain the integrity of record. That is the design. That is the destiny. Not the sterile promise of âdigital gold,â a bankerâs fantasy of hoarded value, but the living dynamism of cash â fluid, divisible, ungoverned by hierarchy.
Bitcoinâs architecture was made for trillions of daily acts, not for museum pieces of digital scarcity.