Back in 2021, El Salvador became the first country in the world to require its citizens to use bitcoin for payments. Last month, four years later, it notched another record: it became the first country to rescind bitcoin's status as required tender. This backtracking was the result of the IMF's threat to pull billions of dollars in assistance if El Salvador didn't put an end to bitcoin's special status. What have we learnt from El Salvador's four-year bitcoin experiment? I would suggest that it definitively proved that bitcoin is not destined to be money. As far as making payments goes, bitcoin will always be an unpopular option, even when the government gives it a helping hand. And don't blame the IMF for this; bitcoin sputtered-out long before the IMF pressured El Salvador to drop it, as I'll show. The original motivation behind El Salvador's Bitcoin Law was to harness bitcoin as a means for reaching the unbanked, those without bank accounts, who in El Salvador make up the majority. Cash is still by far the dominant payments choice in El Salvador, but it was believed that an electronic form of cash might complement that. Another goal was to make remittances cheaper by sponsoring a new bitcoin remittance route—few countries are as dependent on remittances from family living overseas as El Salvador.  President Nayib Bukele made the announcement at a major bitcoin event and El Salvador’s Congress ratified the Bitcoin Law a few days later. Bitcoiners literally cried for joy. For longtime Bitcoin watchers like me, it seemed like an awful idea. But at least it was going to be a fantastic natural experiment. Satoshi Nakamoto, bitcoin's founder, saw bitcoin as electronic cash, but his dream generally hasn't come to fruition. In practice, 99% of bitcoin adoption is about gambling on its volatile price, with payments being a niche 1% edge case. Bitcoin disciples who continue to believe in Satoshi's electronic cash dream often blame what they see as government meddling for the failure of bitcoin to gain widespread usage as a payments medium. For instance, they say that capital gains taxes on bitcoin makes it a hassle to pay with the orange coin, since it leads to a ton of paper work anytime one buys something with bitcoin. Or they criticize legal tender laws that privilege fiat currency.  But here was a government that was going to champion the stuff, nullifying all of the headwinds against bitcoin in one stroke! The government meddling hypothesis would be put to test. The Salvadoran government used a combination of sticks and carrots to kick-start adoption. First, let's list the carrots. The capital gains tax on bitcoin was set to zero to remove the hassle of buying stuff with bitcoin. The government also built a bitcoin payments app, Chivo, for all El Salvadoreans to use. (Chivo also supports U.S. dollar payments.) Anyone who downloaded Chivo and transacted with bitcoin would receive a $30 bitcoin bonus—that's a lot of money in El Salvador. Gas stations offered $0.20 off of a gallon of gas for customers who paid with the app. People could also use Chivo to pay their taxes with bitcoin. The biggest carrot was zero-transaction fees. Any payment conducted with Chivo was free, as was converting bitcoins held in the Chivo app into U.S. dollars and withdrawing cash at Chivo ATMs. These Chivo ATMs were rolled out across El Salvador and in the U.S., too, to encourage the nascent U.S.-to-El Salvador bitcoin remittance route. Bitcoin ATMs are usually incredibly pricey to use, but in El Salvador the government would eat all the transaction fees. What a fantastic deal. As for the stick, Bukele introduced a forced-tender rule. Beginning in 2021, businesses were required to accept the orange coin or be punished. This was costly for them to comply with. They would have to update point of sale software, signage, train employees, and set up new processes for handling bitcoins post-sale. By all rights, this combination of sticks and carrots should have led to a flourishing of bitcoin payments. But it didn't. The evidence of failure The first incrimination of the experiment is Figure 1, below. In the Bitcoin Law's initial months, remittances carried out by cryptocurrency wallets exploded, accounting for an impressive 4.5% of all incoming remittances to El Salvador. Not bad! People were actually using the Chivo app to send bitcoins to relatives back home.  Figure 1: Data from El Salvador's central bank shows that cryptocurrency remittances from wallets like Chivo have steadily shrunk over time from 4.5% of all remittances to 0.87% of all remittances in 2024. But instead of continuing to gain market share, crypto-linked remittances steadily deteriorated over the next four years to 0.87% of the total by December 2024—hardly a sign of success. The data for this chart comes from the Banco Central De Reserva (BCR), El Salvador's central bank. The BCR is coy on how precisely it collects this data, but it is almost certainly dominated by Chivo-related transactions. (My note at the bottom explores the data more.) The second indictment of El Salvador's bitcoin effort comes from survey data compiled by economists Alvarez, Argente, and Van Patten in their 2022 paper, Are Cryptocurrencies Currencies? Bitcoin as Legal Tender in El Salvador. The authors carried out a survey of 1,800 Salvadoran households to get insights into their use of the Chivo Wallet. This wasn't a lazy online survey, but an in-person survey. The survey found that just over half of Salvadoran adults had downloaded Chivo, which is impressive (see Figure 2, below). Most hardly used it, though. While over 20% of the population continued to interact with Chivo after spending their $30 bitcoin bonus—which isn't a bad adoption rate for an app—the majority of Chivo usage was only occasional, the median Chivo user reporting no bitcoin payments sent or received in any given month, and just one payment per month in U.S. dollars. Payments tools like apps and cards are supposed to be used a few times each week; not once every two or three months. Figure 2: While awareness of Chivo was high, most Salvadorans did not use Chivo's bitcoin functionality after receiving their $30 bitcoin bonus. Source: Are Cryptocurrencies Currencies? Bitcoin as Legal Tender in El Salvador [link] The dominance of the app's dollar functionality over its bitcoin functionality also stands out. Chivo was supposed to be a bitcoin payments app, after all, not another version of PayPal of Venmo. For instance, the survey found that of all households who had downloaded Chivo, only 3% had ever received a bitcoin remittance via Chivo, while 8% had received a U.S. dollar remittance via the app (see Figure 3 below). If Chivo was primarily being used for fiat payments, and not bitcoin, then why go through with the whole effort of changing the law for bitcoin's sake? Figure 3: When Salvadorans did use Chivo for remittances, they preferred it for U.S. dollar remittances over bitcoin-based ones. Source: Are Cryptocurrencies Currencies? Bitcoin as Legal Tender in El Salvador [link] Moreover, those few citizens who did continue to use Chivo regularly were not the unbanked majority that the Bitcoin Law had originally targeted. The survey found that they were most likely to be from the already-banked minority, young, educated, and male. By mid-2022, downloads of Chivo had pretty much dried up. Using blockchain tracing, the economists found that $245,000 per day worth of bitcoins were flowing into the Chivo app, which sounds like a lot, but in the payments business, that's peanuts. It's also worth considering how businesses treated bitcoin after the passing of the Bitcoin Law. Despite the requirement that all businesses  accept bitcoin, just one-in-five actually did so. The survey found that acceptance was driven by large businesses—i.e. McDonald's, Starbucks, Pizza Hut and Walmart—presumably because they couldn't easily evade the consequences of ignoring the law. Bitcoin was not popular with these businesses; the survey found that of those that received bitcoin from their customers, 88% quickly converted them into dollars. This is problematic. For bitcoin to become money, a circular economy must be kickstarted as the bitcoins spent by consumers are re-spent by businesses on inventory and salaries, which gets re-spent by consumers, and on and on. This wasn't happening. With just 20% of the population using the app, and mostly for an occasional U.S. dollar transaction, the entire bitcoin experiment can hardly be seen as a wild success. Businesses were not keeping the bitcoins they received, and consumers who were using the app regularly were not the unbanked originally targeted by the Bitcoin Law. The third and last bit of evidence of the experiment's failure comes from an annual survey from José Simeón Cañas Central American University (UCA) entitled La población salvadoreña evalúa la situación del país. In 2021, the survey began asking Salvadorans whether they had ever used bitcoin to buy or pay for something. This question is more open-ended than the one asked by the three economists, who focused more narrowly on bitcoin transactions conducted via Chivo.  Figure 4: According to a survey from the UCA, while over 25% of survey participants reported using bitcoin (and not just Chivo) for payments in 2021, only 8.1% used bitcoin for payments just three years later in 2024. In the first year of the Bitcoin Law, 25.7% of respondents said they used bitcoin for payments. That's a fantastic result, although the $30 Chivo bonus no doubt drove that large number. But over the next three years, bitcoin's usage for payments crumbled, with only 8.1% of Salvadorans reporting that they'd paid with bitcoin by 2024. This is the same downward pattern that we saw in the CBR's remittance data. That's not adoption. That's giving up on bitcoin. The UCA survey found that the 8.1% who reported using bitcoin for payments in 2024 were not using it for day-to-day payments. Of this group of bitcoin payors, 55% used bitcoin just 1-3 times in 2024. Only 8% made bitcoin payments on a weekly or bi-weekly basis. (See Figure 5 below). I really want to highlight this last data point: in 2024, just 1 in 200 Salvadorans paid for something each week or second week with bitcoin. Figure 5: In a 2024 survey by UCA, 8.1% of Salvadorans reported using bitcoin for payments that year. This group was then asked how often they used it, with the responses visualized in the above chart. Most used bitcoin just once in 2024, with 55% using it one to three times. 8% used it 20 or more times, which would suggest that almost no one is using bitcoin for day-to-day payments, despite that being the goal of El Salvador's 2021 Bitcoin Law. Summing up these three pieces of evidence, despite a potent combination of subsidies and coercion, the adoption of bitcoin for payments hasn't occurred. Bitcoin usage in El Salvador is, if anything, regressing. Now that required acceptance of bitcoin is being rescinded, I suspect that it's only a matter of time before all the large businesses that introduced bitcoin payments, like McDonald's and Walmart, drop that option. With the government no longer coercing them to accept bitcoin payments, there's no commercial incentive to continue down that path. It was IMF pressure on Nayib Bukele that finally got him to give up his bitcoin experiment. But the IMF was doing Bukele a favor, really, because the whole thing was already a failure, as I've explained with the charts above. Cancelling it outright would have been embarrassing to Bukele, but now he can deflect attention from himself and blame the IMF. Why the failure, and what have we learned? There is a very big hurdle that has prevented El Salvador's one-two punch of subsidies and coercion from working: bitcoin is intrinsically ill-suited to perform as money.  The stuff is innately volatile, and so risk-shy individuals don't dare hold it or use it for payments. Risk-seekers can tolerate that volatility, but they expect to be rewarded by a dramatic price rise, and so they refuse to use their bitcoins for payments because they could miss out on the jump. The net result is that no one, neither society's risk-seekers nor its risk-avoiders, ends up paying with bitcoins. Only a tremendous amount of subsidies and coercion will ever overcome their natural preferences, but no sane government would ever try to bring those levels of coercion to bear. (And speeding things up with options like Lightning doesn't change this equation.) The saddest thing about El Salvador's bitcoin experiment is that all sorts of time and resources have been wasted. El Salvador is not a rich country. The money spent on building and operating Chivo, compliance by businesses, bitcoin signage, and subsidies could have been better deployed on more important things like health and education.  One hopes that other countries learn from this experience and avoid going down the same route that El Salvador did. Brazil, which deployed its wildly popular PIX payment system around the same time as El Salvador launched its Bitcoin Law, provide helpful guidance. More broadly, I'm hoping that El Salvador's failure finally kills off Satoshi's very misguided dream of bitcoin as electronic cash. I once was a believer in that dream, but for all the reasons I wrote in December, I've long since given up on any chance of bitcoin becoming a widely-circulating currency. But a lot of people continue to sacrifice their careers, time and resources to following Satoshi. Many of these are brilliant people. We want them to be creating valuable things for society. Alas, despite all sorts of evidence that bitcoin payments are a dead end, they continue to hit their heads against the wall, using excuses like government interference.  Guys, Satoshi's dream is a mirage, a delusion, a hallucination. A government just flexed its muscles for four long years to get bitcoin into circulation, and that still didn't work. The lesson here: bitcoin is a bad payments tool and will never become widely-used electronic cash. It's time to move on. *The BCB won't say how it collects this data -- according to the Salvadoran press there are legal limits on how much it can disclose -- but it describes the series as being compiled from administrative records that it receives from "cryptocurrency digital wallets." Reading between the lines, this probably includes Chivo data and any other regulated cryptocurrency service that stores customer crypto and reports to the BCB. (Because Chivo allows both U.S. dollars and bitcoins to be transferred, the BCR's data may be a mix of the two units, muddying the waters.) I think it's safe to assume that the BCR data does not include bitcoin remittances made via non-custodial services, say like Muun wallet or Blue wallet. However, since most of the governments carrot's (i.e. no fees) require the use of Chivo, it's probably a safe assumption that the average Salvadoran uses Chivo for bitcoin transfers, so the BCR data--which almost certainly includes Chivo--is fairly representative of overall usage.

In what seems to be an effort to extort Canada for additional benefits, Donald Trump complained yesterday on social media that CANADA DOESN'T EVEN ALLOW U.S. BANKS TO OPEN OR DO BUSINESS THERE. And so according to Trump, Canada doubly deserves to be disciplined with tariffs. Well, if it's true that U.S banks aren't allowed to do business in Canada, then why in god's name is one of the U.S.'s largest banks doing business in downtown Toronto? Citigroup Place, 123 Front St. West, Toronto, Ontario, Canada Citi has been operating in Canada since 1919 and currently has 1,700 Canadian employees. According to OSFI, Canada's bank regulator, the bank earned C$35 million in Canada in the first three quarters of 2024 and has C$5.49 billion in Canadian assets as of September 30, 2024.  In short, Trump was either lying, misinformed, crazy, or some combination of those three. Canada allows foreign banks to enter our banking industry by requiring them to set up a domestic subsidiary and applying for a Schedule II banking charter. Schedule II banks can operate in all of the same lines of business as mainstay Canadian banks (i.e. Schedule I banks) like Royal Bank or Bank of Montreal. There are 16 Schedule II banks in Canada, three of which are American. (In addition to Citi, the other two are Amex Bank and JP Morgan.) Some folks on social media tried to reinterpret Trump's complaint: "But JP, what Trump really meant to say is that Canada doesn't allow U.S. banks to serve retail customers." As proof they cited the fact that if you walk into a Citi office in Canada, Citi won't allow you to open a personal chequing account. The reason that Citi won't give you a personal chequing account isn't because the rules prevent them from doing so. Rather, Citi (along with Amex and JP Morgan) have chosen not to enter the Canadian retail banking market, preferring to focus instead on other types of Canadian banking, like commercial and investment banking. If Citi, for instance, wanted to set up a retail branch network, it could. In fact, Citi once had a small five-branch retail banking network in Vancouver and Toronto, offering personal chequing and savings account, term deposits, loans, mortgages, mutual funds and RRSPs. But it sold out in 1999 to Canada Trust, which was ultimately bought by TD Bank. Other foreign banks have also set up Schedule II banks with a retail presence, only to sell out to domestic banks. HSBC Canada, owned by its British parent, became Canada's seventh largest bank—one that was notably successful in offering mortgages to retail customers—but was recently offloaded by its parent to Royal Bank, a Schedule I bank. ING Canada, owned by Dutch-based ING Bank, created one of Canada's most popular discount retail banks, ING Direct, but sold it to Scotia Bank in 2012, which rechristened the discount bank Tangerine Bank. The lone Schedule II foreign bank I'm aware of that still serves retail customers is ICICI Bank, which is owned by its Indian parent. Why are U.S. and foreign banks reticent to compete in Canada's retail banking market? Contrary to perceptions that Canadian banking is slow and lazy, it's actually quite difficult to make much headway in Canada. The Big-5 banks, plus National Bank, which counts as half a big bank, have built strong retail branch networks that span the entire country. They compete rigorously for consumer deposits, offering higher interest rates than U.S. banks offer to Americans, suggesting a more cut-throat market than south of the border. In short, U.S. banks don't have the cojones to cross the border and compete head-to-head against Canada's more competitive behemoths. Citi already tried. It gave up. By contrast, the U.S. is an easier market for a foreign bank to enter because its banking industry is more fragmented. And many Canadian banks have entered, with TD Bank and Bank of Montreal occupying 10th and 13th spot respectively on the list of largest U.S. banks. This fragmentation is the residue of the U.S.'s refusal (until recently) to allow banks to set up branches across state lines. By contrast, Canada has always had fairly permissive rules about establishing cross-country banking networks. The irony here is that Trump's complaints about lack of openness best apply to the U.S., historically the culprit when it comes to tamping down the spread of banking. Canadian banks' U.S. and international exposure has increased over time. A recent Bank of Canada study finds that our banks now have more foreign liabilities (i.e. deposits) than domestic liabilities. (See chart below). More precisely, 57% of all Canadian banks' liabilities are now foreign. As for our banks' asset mix, foreign assets are poised to surpass domestic assets in the next year or two, if trends continue. Rising Canadian bank exposure to the rest of the world. Source: Bank of Canada The reason for this outward migration is clear. Canada's saturated retail banking market offers few opportunities for growth, but other parts of the world are less saturated, and so these jurisdictions offer Canadian banks ideal avenues for acquisitions and growth. This gives us an additional vantage point for viewing Trump's absurd comments about Canadian banking. He may not be saying that Canada's banking system is closed, but that the U.S. banking system is now effectively shut off to additional acquisitions by Canadian banks, as part of some sort of America First banking policy. This implicit threat of a foreign banking blockade may explain, in part, why the price of Canadian bank stocks fell so much more than the broader Canadian market yesterday. Their avenues for growth may have just narrowed.

Noah Smith writes a provocative article about memecoins as a novel mechanism for bribery payments. A foreign dignitary looking to gain influence over Donald Trump would like to pay him a giant bribe, but doing so directly is prohibited by all sort of laws. Luckily, Trump has just issued his own memecoin, TRUMP, of which Trump owns 80% of all coins. So why not just buy the TRUMP token, thereby pushing its price up and gifting Trump with even more wealth, in return gaining a degree of influence over policy? The best part is that no money actually changes hands, so it's probably less risky from a legal perspective. The dignitary can just plead "I thought it would go up!", says Noah. Now, I'm not so sure that crypto is ushering in anything unique here. Consider that Donald Trump also owns shares of Trump Media & Technology Group Corp (DJT), which are NASDAQ-listed "tradfi" shares that predate crypto. Why not just buy DJT shares, pump their price higher, and collect favors from Trump? No crypto involved.  In fact, a year before Noah wrote his article about memecoin bribery, Robert Maguire of Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW), worried about precisely such a scenario. Any entity wanting to "cozy up" to Trump need only buy a bunch of DJT shares on the NASDAQ, enough that they "get Trump’s attention, but low enough that it doesn’t break the five-percent threshold that triggers SEC disclosure." Consider that Donald Trump and family members hold a 59% ownership stake in DJT equity, which isn't too different from the 80% of TRUMP that they own. Both assets have market caps of around $7 billion. So pushing up the price of DJT will certainly enrich Trump just as much as trying to nudge TRUMP higher. So here's my question: What's the best way to bribe the current President of the United States of America, by pumping the TRUMP memecoin or pumping old-school DJT shares? Before answering it, I want to pause for a moment to reflect. The fact that I am even writing a blog post on the topic of bribing an American president shows how far along a certain dystopian financial timeline we have gone. Back to the timeline. I see two reasons why the memecoin probably presents a better pseudo-bribery option than the tradfi stock.  The first reason is that it's safer to pull off. DJT is listed on just one exchange; the NASDAQ. And the NASDAQ exists in the U.S., which has the most robustly-regulated and well-trusted securities markets in the world. One duty the government requires of NASDAQ is that it surveil transactions in real-time for abusive trading behaviour, so any sketchy DJT purchases could end up being reported by NASDAQ to the authorities. Furthermore, to get access to NASDAQ-listed shares, a brokerage account is required, and that'll require the would-be briber to pass through the brokerage's identity checks.   On top of that, systems like the Consolidated Audit Trail, a government-mandated system tracking U.S. equity and options trades, gives regulators themselves a means to monitor market activity and investigate potential misconduct. So a foreign dignitary is taking a bit of a risk if he or she goes the DJT route. By contrast, the TRUMP memecoin is hosted on a blockchain, basically a borderless and open decentralized database, not a carefully-guarded database confined to the U.S. The result is that TRUMP can be listed anywhere, including on shady offshore crypto exchanges like ByBit or KuCoin, which surely aren't checking customers for pumps. To boot, these offshore exchanges perform only cursory identity checks, if any. To further protect him or herself, a would-be briber can initiate the pump by sending funds from an offshore exchange, say KuCoin, to a decentralized exchange, or DEX, and only then push the price of TRUMP higher. DEXes are even more hands-off than offshore exchanges; they don't perform any surveillance or identity checks. The riposte to this is that all blockchain transactions are public and observable, so a bribe conducted on a DEX could be traced. Ok, sure. But while blockchain transactions are visible, they aren’t directly tied to real-world identities. Blockchains are pseudonymous. It's a bit like going to a masked ball. Everyone can see who the dancers are, but as long as everyone has their mask on a degree of anonymity is preserved.      So to safely get away with bribing Trump, it sure seems that his memecoin is the better option than NASDAQ-listed DJT. Now for the second reason why the memecoin is better for bribery: it packs more punch per dollar. A memecoin lacks what equity researchers refer to as fundamental value. Its price is solely a function of Sam's expectations of what future buyers like Jill will pay for it, with Jill's expectations conditioned on what she thinks Sam will pay. They are pure bundles of speculative energy. As I've referred to them in other posts, memecoins are decentralized ponzi games, zero-sum lotteries, or Keynesian beauty contests. By contrast, DJT is a stock, and stocks provide their owners with a claim on the underlying firm's 1) profits and 2) its assets in case it is eventually wound-up. There is a "something" that buyers and sellers can coordinate on, so that unlike a memecoin, a stock is more than a pure nested expectation games. That's not to say that stocks don't have a big "meme" component (think Gamestop), but the degree to which this guessing game is played with stocks is unlikely to ever reach that of memecoins. The existence of fundamentals makes pumps less effective. As a pump begins to drive the price of DJT higher, the underlying fundamentals will start to give certain existing investors a reason to sell (i.e. "it's now too expensive relative to earnings"), and that selling will dull the pump. Since there are no fundamentals for TRUMP memecoin buyers to latch on to – any price is as good as another – a memecoin pump never gets throttled by fundamental sellers. To sum up, someone who has $10 million to bribe Donald Trump will want to demonstrate to the President that their purchases drove the price of the target asset higher: it'll be far easier to demonstrate this by pumping the frictionless memecoin than the burdened-by-fundamentals stock. Now, if you've gotten this far and think this post is actually about how to bribe Trump, it's not. It's about the often fascinating differences (or not) between crypto and traditional finance. In my view, they aren't really so different. Crypto fans may think there's a financial revolution going on, but there's nothing new under the sun. You might wonder: is the frictionlessness of a memecoin, its lack of fundamentals, and the ensuing incredible ease by which it can be bribe-pumped a new feature that crypto has brought to the table? Not really. There's no technical hurdle preventing the NASDAQ from listing a non-blockchain version of the TRUMP memecoin on its own old-fashioned Oracle database. People could buy and sell this NASDAQ-listed meme-thingy instead of that blockchain version of TRUMP. But securities law gets in the way. Listing an unadulterated ponzi game on a national stock market has never been legal, at least not in my lifetime. Why putting one up on a blockchain is legal is beyond me, but look over there, the President just did it. At the speed the train is leaving sanity station and heading to financial silly land, I suspect listing pure ponzis on the NASDAQ will soon be an accepted thing. Memeassets everywhere! Bribes for everyone!

We Canadians are overwhelmingly pro-Ukraine and anti-Putin, so when the CBC published an expose last week about "banned Russian oil" sneaking into Canada, it was read in despair by most of us. What an awful failure of Canadian sanctions policy.  As with a lot of sanctions media coverage, I saw things a bit differently: "Not bad. We're doing our part!" That's because if you add some more context to the CBC article, the data that it presents can be read as good news. The article takes issue with 2.5 million barrels of refined oil products made from Russian-produced crude that have been indirectly imported into Canada since the start of Putin's invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Given that around 1,000 days have passed since the invasion, that works out to roughly 2,500 barrels per day of Russian-linked refined oil products arriving on Canadian shores. (Analyzing oil flows on a per-day basis is industry standard and also makes it easier for our brains.) In the grand scheme of things, 2,500 barrels per day is a drop in the bucket. Canada consumes around 1.6 million barrels of refined oil products per day, according to CAPP, which includes stuff like gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel. So just 0.1% of our consumption is Russia-tainted. Even so, every barrel matters, and we should strive to avoid any contribution to Putin's war chest. But there's more context. 2,500 barrels per day of Russian refined oil products is far less than what we imported prior to the war. According to the Canada Energy Regulator (CER), between 2017 and 2022 Canada was regularly importing around 10,000 barrels per day of refined petroleum products directly from Russia (see chart below). After banning imports of Russian crude and refined oil products, Canada's direct imports fell to zero in 2023. Into this void, indirect imports of 2,500 barrels per day of Russian-linked refined products, the flows that the CBC spotlights, have emerged. A 75% decline from 10,000 barrels per day to 2,500 barrels per day is not too shabby. Canada's direct imports of Russian refined petroleum products, which hit zero in 2023. Source: CER 2,500 barrels is still not zero. But we can also take comfort from the fact that those barrels are not as profitable for Russia as they used to be. In the pre-war era, Canada was importing refined petroleum products directly from Russia, but in the post-war era we are importing Russian oil indirectly via a third-party, India. More specifically,  oil in its raw form -- crude oil -- is being shipped all the way from Russia to India by tanker, where it is upgraded by Indian refineries, and only then is it onshipped to Canada. This new workflow is a big downgrade for Russia. Before it can be used, crude oil has to be converted into pricier consumable types of fuel like gasoline for cars and jet fuel for planes. Upgrading crude oil creates extra profits for whoever does it. Russia's refineries used to capture the entire upgrading margin. They refined the raw oil after it was pulled out of the ground and then regularly sent 10,000 barrels per day of the final product to Canada. But now India is capturing those extra profits on the 2,500 barrels per day that are sent to Canada. So not only has the quantity of Russian-linked refined products imported by Canada shrunk by 75% since the war began, but thanks to the interposition of Indian refiners at the expense of Russian ones, the quality of Russia's revenue stream has been downgraded: pound-for-pound, Russia's indirect exports to Canada are a far less lucrative for Putin than they were back in 2021, because his refining margin has disappeared. Compounding Russia's woes is the much more circuitous route that its oil must now take. Prior to 2022, Russian refined oil exports were loaded onto boats in Russian ports like Saint Petersburg and shipped via the Baltic Sea to Canada, around 4,000 nautical miles away. That's a 15-day voyage according to Sea-Distances. These days, that 15-day voyage has tripled, even quadrupled. First, Russian crude oil must travel from the Baltic to India, a 7,500 nautical mile journey that can take 30 days. That's if it goes through the Suez canal. Passing around the southern tip of Africa amounts to a 12,000 mile trip taking up to 50 days. Once refined in India, the product must travel another 8,000 miles from India to eastern Canada.  What an incredible amount of travel to get a barrel of Russian refined oil to Canadian markets! A good way to visualize these new transportation frictions is provided by the Kyiv School of Economics, which charts the volume of Russian oil being transported by oil tankers over time. Thanks to the forced rerouting of crude to less efficient routes as countries like Germany and Canada close their borders to Putin, Russia's oil on water is 163% higher than the pre-invasion average. Record volumes of Russian oil on water is not a good thing for Putin. It mean higher transportation costs. Source: KSE The extra transportation and insurance costs that "oil on water" entails inevitably eat into the final price that Russia can negotiate with buyers like India for its barrels of crude. For these long distances to be financially worthwhile for Indian businesses, they will only buy Russian crude at a discount to the going world price. According to the Dallas Fed, the Russia discount regularly clocks in at around $20 below the market price. This constitutes a big step down for Russia -- prior to the war it was receiving the full world price. The upshot is that Canadian imports of Russian oil are down, and even though some Russian refined petroleum products are indirectly making their way to Canada, this is only after we've extracted our pound of flesh from Putin by forcing him to give up his refining margin and by obliging him to accept a crude oil price discount on account of distance traveled. So let's take some pride from that. Does that mean we shouldn't do anything about our indirect imports of Russian oil product? I want to clarify that Canada isn't importing "banned" products or breaking Russian sanctions. For better or for worse, the coalition's sanction on Russian crude oil have been designed to allow crude to continue to flow around the world, the intent being to avoid a big spike in oil prices while still hurting Russia. The 2,500 barrels of indirectly-refined refined oil we get each day are fair game.    But that doesn't mean Canadians should do nothing. The CBC article is a good effort to name-and-shame certain Canadian importers that are accepting Russian-linked crude from third-parties, including Everwind Fuel's Point Tupper oil storage facility in Nova Scotia. C'mon, Everwind. Why not choose better trading partners, ones who aren't acting as go-betweens for Putin? However, the best step we can do to counter Russia is to focus on producing more renewables, crude oil, and other commodities, as well as to find reliable ways to get these resources to market.  Unlike Europe and the U.S., which have plenty of economic and financial heft, Canada doesn't have any sizable economic chokepoints that we can lever to hurt Russia. We could cut down on the 2,500 barrels per day of Russian-linked oil imports, but as laudable as that might be it doesn't constitute a genuine chokepoint. Canada's edge is that our economy is remarkably similar to Russia. Both of us extract a bunch of resources. The more we compete with Putin in resource extraction, the more we reduce the prices he relies on, thus impairing his ability to fund his invasion of Ukraine.