BMO Financial Center at Market Square in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Donald Trump has said he wants to use "economic force" against Canada. In my previous post, I worried that one way this force could be wielded was through Canada's dangerous dependence on U.S.-controlled MasterCard and Visa. But there's an even bigger risk. Canadian banks with large U.S. operations may have become unwitting financial hostages in Trump's 51st state strategy. As recently as a few months ago, back when things still seemed normal, it was widely accepted that big Canadian banks needed a U.S. expansion strategy. If one of our Big-6 banks wasn't building its U.S. banking footprint, its stock outlook suffered. Canada is a mature, low-growth banking market, after all, whereas the U.S. market remains fragmented and ripe for consolidation. This motivated a steady Canadian trek into U.S. branch banking. BMO entered the U.S. in the 1980s and steadily expanded, most recently acquiring Bank of the West in 2023, making it the 13th-largest U.S. bank. TD Bank entered in the early 2000s and has since climbed to 10th place. Given this trajectory, by 2030 or 2035, one of the U.S.’s five largest banks could very well have been Canadian. This strategy hasn’t been without flaws. Royal Bank's first U.S. retail banking foray, its acquisition of Centura, eventually failed, though its second attempt has been more successful. TD just paid the largest anti-money-laundering fine in U.S. history. But overall, the move south has been profitable for Canadian banks and their shareholders, who constitute a large chunk of the Canadian population. The U.S. has benefited, too. Canadians have historically been decent bankers, having got through the 2008 credit crisis unscathed. Allowing a bigger slice of the American market to fall under the prudential management of Canadian executives probably isn't a bad thing, TD's money laundering gaff notwithstanding. But in just a few months, Trump has upended this entire calculus. Canada is now a U.S. enemy, or at least no longer a friend. We are somewhere on Trump's timeline to becoming the 51st state, against our wishes. Our existing border treaties are no longer valid, says the President, and need to be redrawn. Trump has threatened to use "economic force" as his weapon to achieve this. The attacks have already begun, beginning with tariffs to soften us up for final annexation. Next up? My worry is that Canada's banking industry may become a second front in this war, and the hint is a stream of strange pronouncements from Trump and his surrogates about Canadian banking. According to Trump, the Canadian banking system is stacked against U.S. banks: "Canada doesn’t allow American Banks to do business in Canada, but their banks flood the American Market. Oh, that seems fair to me, doesn’t it?" This grievance is false, as I explained last month, but accuracy probably isn't the point. A charitable reading is that Trump is laying the groundwork for U.S. banks to gain more access to Canada’s banking sector—a manageable concern. My worry is that it's the reverse. His complaints may signal a shift in how Canadian banks operating in the U.S. are to be treated. Trump may have teed up a financial version of the Gulf of Tonkin incident; an imaginary affront that can serve as a pretext for justifying aggressive action against Canadian banks' U.S. subsidiaries. After years of U.S. expansion, Canada’s largest banks now have relatively large American retail banking footprints, making them tempting financial hostages. Both TD Bank and Bank of Montreal now have more branches in the U.S. than in Canada. Nearly half of BMO's revenue (44%) come from south of the border while in TD's case it's 38%. Royal Bank also has deep ties. According to a recent Bank of Canada paper, half of the Big 6 Canadian banks' assets are now foreign, far more than the roughly 40% or so in 2014, with much of that chunk being American assets. Is TD just another bank doing business in Florida, or a financial hostage? By damaging their large U.S. subsidiaries, Trump would directly weaken the Canadian parent companies, potentially causing havoc with the overall Canadian banking system. And a weakened financial sector plays right into Trump’s stated goal of economically undermining Canada in order to annex it. How can Trump hurt Canadian banks' U.S. subsidiaries? Trump and his allies control much of the U.S. financial regulatory apparatus, and he has shown little regard for legal constraints. To begin with, he could set the FBI and Department of Justice on Canadian banks, increasing scrutiny of TD, BMO, and Royal Bank’s U.S. operations under the guise of enforcing anti-money-laundering laws. More surveillance would inevitably lead to a wave of fines. To avoid punishment, a Canadian bank operating stateside will have to spend much more on anti-money laundering measures than an equivalent U.S. bank. Another tactic could be limiting access to shared financial infrastructure, such as government liquidity programs or bank deposit insurance. Trump could also try to increase the hoops that TD, BMO, and RBC must leap through to maintain their all-important accounts at the Federal Reserve, which provides access to Fedwire, the U.S.'s crucial large-value payments system. Trump’s regulators could also impose higher capital requirements on Canadian banks compared to their U.S. peers, forcing the parents to divert ever more resources to their U.S. subsidiaries. If Canadian banks are squeezed hard enough, they may eventually be forced to sell their U.S. operations at distressed prices. Trump could worsen this situation by imposing punitive exit fees, ensuring that Canadian banks take even bigger losses on the sale of their U.S. subsidiaries. The impairments caused to the parents' bank balance sheets would weaken the Canadian banking system and might even force the Federal government to step in with financial aid. Meanwhile, the discounted assets of Canadian banks could be handed over to Trump’s preferred U.S. banking CEOs. Trump, after all, seems to be on course to building a kleptocracy, and key to that is the leader's ability to generate a series of gifts (i.e. acquisition approvals) that can be bestowed on business leaders who have demonstrated their obeisance. To limit the damage, Canada may need to act quickly. The first step is freezing any further U.S. investment by BMO and the others. If Canadian banks are already financial hostages, deepening their exposure would be reckless. Bank executives may very well have already halted their U.S. growth plans of their own accord, but if not, high-level discussions with Canadian officials should drive home the urgency of the situation. Instead of doubling down on the U.S., Canadian banks should pivot toward growth opportunities in Europe, the U.K., Australia, Latin America, and Asia. Our banks have histories dealing with these geographies. Bank of Nova Scotia, for instance, is one of the leading banks in the Caribbean and Central America. Finally, there’s also a case to be made for a preemptive retreat. Bank of Montreal, Royal Bank, and TD Bank could start selling off their U.S. operations today before things escalate. It's a terribly difficult step to take; Canadian banks have spent decades painstakingly building their U.S. franchises. But by exiting now, they could secure better prices and avoid becoming tools for harming Canada down the road. What was once a symbol of Canadian financial success—our banks’ expansion into what used to be a friendly U.S.—has become a national security risk. Hoping Trump forgets his fixation on the Canadian banking system and his dream of annexing us is not a strategy. There’s a high chance he won’t, and Canada must prepare accordingly.

We're all busy doing our best to boycott U.S. products. I can't buy Special K cereal anymore, because it's made in the U.S. by Kellogg's. But I'm still buying Shreddies, which is made in Niagara Falls, Ontario. Even that's a grey area, since Shreddies is owned by Post, a big American company. Should I be boycotting it? Probably. However, the disturbing thing is that I'm paying for my carefully-curated basket of Canadian groceries with my MasterCard. If we really want to avoid U.S. products, we can't just vet the things we are buying. We also need to be careful about how we are doing our buying. Our Canadian credit cards are basically made-in-U.S. goods. They rely on the U.S-based Visa or MasterCard networks for processing. Each credit card transaction you make generates a few cents in revenue for these two American mega-corporations. It doesn't sound like much, but when multiplied by millions of Canadians using their cards every day, it adds up. Vigilant Canadians shouldn't be using them. Canadians who want to boycott American card networks have two options. Go back to paying with cash, which is 100% Canadian. Or transact with your debit card. Debit card transactions are routed via the made-in-Canada Interac debit network.* We're lucky to have a domestic debit card option. Our European friends are in a worse position, since many European countries (Poland, Sweden, the Netherlands, Finland, and Austria) are entirely reliant on MasterCard and Visa for both debit and credit card transactions.  Unfortunately, going back to debit cards means doing without all of the consumer protection that credit cards offer in an online environment. Worse, you're giving up your credit card rewards or cash back. If you don't pay with your 2% cash back credit card, for instance, and use your debit card instead, which doesn't offer a reward, you're effectively losing out on $2 for every $100 you spend. This should illustrate to you, I hope, the golden shackles imposed on us by our U.S.-based credit cards. It's fairly easy to replace your American-grown tomatoes with Mexican ones or your U.S.-made car with a Japanese car. But networks, which tend towards monopolization, are not so easy to bypass. Which gets us into the meatier issue of national sovereignty. The difficulty we all face boycotting the MasterCard and Visa networks reveals how Canada has let itself become over-reliant on these critical pieces of U.S financial infrastructure. My fear is that our neighbour's political leadership is only going to fall further into authoritarianism and belligerence, eventually making a play to slowly annex Canada—not by invasion, but by "Canshluss". If so, this will involve using our dependencies on U.S. systems, including the card networks, to extract concessions from us. "Canada, if you don't do x for me," says Trump in 2026, "we're TURNING OFF all your credit cards!"  In anticipation, we need to remove this particular financial dependency, quick. We're already safe when it comes to debit cards; we've got Interac. But we need the same independence for our credit cards. More specifically, we need to pursue an end-goal in which all Canadian credit cards are "co-badged". That means our credit cards would be able to use both the Visa/Mastercard card networks and Interac (or, if Interac can't be repurposed for credit cards, some other yet-to-be-built domestic credit card network). With co-badging, if your credit card payment can't be executed by Visa because of a Trump freeze order, at least the Canadian network will still process it. This is how the French card system works. While much of Europe suffers from a massive dependency on MasterCard and Visa, France is unique in having built a 100% French card solution. The local Carte Bancaire (CB) network can process both French debit card transactions, like Interac can, but goes one step further by also handling French credit card purchases. Before paying for their groceries with a card, French card holders get to choose which network to use, the local one or the international one. THIS IS WHAT CANADA NEEDS: This French credit card, issued by Credite Agricole, is co-badged with the domestic Carte Bancaire (CB) network and the international MasterCard network. When incidents occur on one route (CB, for instance), traffic is automatically routed to the back-up route, MasterCard, and vice versa. I think that a Canadian solution to the Trump problem would look something like this French CB card. The incoming Carney government should move to co-sponsor a CB-style domestic credit card network along with the big banks (perhaps a simple upgrade to Interac will do?). All Canadian financial institutions that issue credit cards would be required to co-badge them so that Canadians can connect to this new network as well as Visa or MasterCard. Even if annexation never actually occurs, at least we've got a more robust card system in place to deal with outages arising from hacking or natural disasters. Along with France, we can take inspiration from India, which introduced their Visa/MasterCard alternative, Rupay, in 2012. Thirteen years later, RuPay is now a genuine competitor with the American card networks. I can't believe I'm saying this, but we can also use Russia as a model, which was entirely dependent on Visa and MasterCard for card payments until it deployed its Mir card network in 2016—in the nick of time before Visa and MasterCard cut ties in 2022. Europe will have to push harder, too. The EU has been trying to rid itself of its Visa and MasterCard addiction for over a decade now, without much luck. Its first attempt, the Euro Alliance of Payment Schemes, was abandoned in 2013.  (In fact, one of the reasons the European Central Bank is exploring its own digital currency is to provide an alternative to the American card networks.) As Canada builds out its own domestic credit card workaround, we can learn from the European mistakes. The U.S. is no longer a clear friend. Boycotting U.S. products is one thing. But if we truly want to reduce the external threat, we need to build our own card infrastructure—before it's too late. * In-person debit payments are processed by the Interac network. However, online debit card transactions default to the Visa or MasterCard networks. While Interac does allow for online purchases, many retailers don't offer the option, and when they do, the checkout process requires the user to log into their online banking, which is more of a hassle than using a card.

I have no idea if memecoins like dogecoin and fartcoin should be legally defined as securities, and thus come under the purview of securities regulators like the Securities Exchange Commission (SEC). Securities law is confusing. But what I do know is that the SEC's latest notion that memecoins are simply "collectibles" that people buy for "entertainment, social interaction, and cultural purposes" is naive, even dangerous. Here is the SEC's statement: Source: SEC The SEC's wording is dangerous because it effectively whitewashes memecoins into the same relatively benign social-economic bucket as baseball cards, postage stamps, and Roman coinage. Memecoins don't belong there. Dogecoin and its ilk are not collectibles—they belong to the same bin (a much more dangerous bin!) as HYIPs, chain letters, ponzis, bubbles, MLMs, memestocks, lotteries, pump and dumps, and casino games.  I don't think I'm alone in saying that I'd be okay if my 11-year old kid wanted to carefully build a collection of culturally-significant items they could fuss over after school. Comic books? Pokemon cards? Fossils? Sure, that's all good. But I'd be appalled if they went to a casino to play slots or threw away their allowance for HYIPs and MLMs. By characterizing memecoins as mere collectibles, and not as the gambling/ponzis devices they actually are, the SEC is anointing them as suitable for everyone, including our kids. It's gross that any government agency would do this. To me the differences between memecoins and collectibles are obvious, but for those still reading, including anyone at the SEC, here's my logic: Almost no one buys memecoins with the same earnest obsessiveness as a collector. Spend any amount of time in ancient coin collecting forums and you'll see what a true collecting mentality looks like, the immense amounts of sifting, classification, and curation that it entails, and the knowledge of cultural minutiae: "Why is Constantine I facing left on this coin, but facing forward on in this one?" By contrast, dogwifhat, SPX6900, $Trump, Pepe, Shiba Inu and other memecoins don't toggle the same grading and taxonomizing parts of our brains, nor do they invoke our instincts to build complete sets of culturally meaningful items. It's just frenetic buying, selling and number-go-up. And that's because ancient Roman coins and memecoins are fundamentally different economic goods. Memecoins are for the most part pure financial gambles with a facade of culture. Roman coins are cultural objects to the core, with a touch of financialization. As its justification for classifying memecoins as collectibles, the SEC relies on the fact that memecoins are "inspired by internet memes, characters, current events, or trends." Think Dogecoin's shiba inu theme, or fartcoin's fart meme. This somehow uplifts them into having the status of cultural artifacts. This is silly. If you read about the history of chain letters, for instance, you'll see that their originators often linked their letters to some sort of theme or meme. Even so, we would never say that chain letters are collectors items. Las Vegas slot machines often have themes (i.e. fruit, El Dorado City of Gold, or ancient Egypt), but let's not fool ourselves: having a theme doesn't transform a slot machine into something other than a slot machine. No, memecoin buyers—like chain letter participants and slot machine players—want to make money, quickly. Plain and simple. That a get-rich-scheme adopts a meme doesn't redeem or transform that scheme into a collectible. The meme is a mere superficiality that serves to differentiate one gambling machine from another. It's not something that most buyers actually believe in. I get that the line between collectibles and speculation isn't always clear—sometimes an item can be both. I lived through the early 1990s comic book collecting boom, and I can tell you that things got a little ponzi-ish. When 14-year old me bought all five covers of X-Men #1, I was only 50% motivated by a collector's maniacal desire to complete a set, the other 50% being a gamble on price. However, at the end of the day policy requires us to draw lines and make categories. For the most part, comic books have functioned as collectibles, not gambling, and deserve to be classified as such, and thus regulated as such. As for memecoins, while there are probably a few people who diligently collect sets of memecoins, for the most part they are all gambling and ponzi-ishness. And that's how they should be treated by policy makers—not as mere postage stamps.   I'm not saying the SEC should be in charge of overseeing memecoins. If the SEC wants to wipe its hands clean of memecoins, that's fine, I guess. Some other agency will have to take charge. But why is the SEC whitewashing memecoins as it is exiting the building? By using its platform to advertise memecoins as mere collectibles, the SEC just made them seem harmless. That's reckless.

Donald Trump has ordered the U.S. Mint to stop producing the penny because it is unprofitable, costing 3.69 cents to produce each one. In response, the lobbyists that earn big profits from the ongoing existence of the penny have come out in full force with dubious arguments for why the penny is still vital. Their newest bit of disinformation is that removing the penny will increase reliance on the nickel, which costs 13.74 cents to produce, thus putting the U.S. public in a worse position than before. This shift-to-nickels claim is wrong, but all sorts of media sources [CNN | Bloomberg | ABC News | TIME ] are repeating it without challenging it. While it's true that the nickel is unprofitable to produce, usage of the nickel will *not* increase when the penny is removed. I'm going to show why shortly, but first a quick comment on the general idea of ending the penny. For long-time penny critics like myself, Trump's idea is tragically undeveloped, even clumsy. All serious minds agree that the U.S. penny is pure monetary pollution and needs to be abolished. It's too small to be meaningful, yet society is forced to continue counting in pennies because the political mechanism for improving America's coinage system is broken, having been captured by the coin lobbyists and conspiracy theorists. (I wrote about the coin lobby in Pennies as state failure.) However, to liberate society from the hassles of the penny the U.S. government can't just stop minting it, as Trump seems to think, because this doesn't prevent the existing stock of pennies that has accumulated over the last century or two from continuing to pollute Americans' economic lives. To solve this, the government must establish a rounding rule for individuals and retail establishments. When paying for goods at the checkout counter, all amounts owed must be rounded to the nearest five cents in order to prevent already-existing pennies from infiltrating day-to-day shopping experiences.  What would this rounding rule look like? Say that your grocery bill comes out to $10.87. You pay the cashier $11 in cash. Instead of getting 13 cents change (a dime and three pennies) your bill would now be rounded down to $10.85, and you'd get a 15 cents in change instead—a nickel and a dime. If your bill came to $10.88, it would be rounded up to $10.90, and you'd get 10 cents change instead of 12 cents. Voila, the penny-infiltration problem is solved. No annoying one-cent pieces required in day-to-day economic life. Now that we've got rounding out of the way, we can tackle the big penny-to-nickel lie that the coin lobbyists are circulating. Mark Weller, director for the lobby group Americans for Common Cents, was quoted in CNN last week: "Without the penny, the volume of nickels in circulation would have to rise to fill the gap in small-value transactions. Far from saving money, eliminating the penny shifts and amplifies the financial burden." Weller goes on to caution that the U.S. Mint may be forced to make in the range of 2–2.5 billion nickels a year if it stops producing pennies permanently, far higher than its normal run-rate of 1.0–1.6 billion over the past decade. The implicit threat here is that it's better for America to have their throats slit by the penny than be mauled by the nickel. Keep in mind that Weller and his lobbying group are sponsored by Artazn LLC, the firm that sells coin blanks to the U.S. Mint for eventual stamping into pennies. The idea that more nickels will be required in day-to-day transactions if the penny disappears is superficially seductive, but it's wrong. That's because the removal of pennies does *not* require that nickels do any more transactional work than before.  First, let's rebut it with a real-life example. In 2012, Canada abolished its one-cent piece and implemented five cent rounding. No nation is more similar to the U.S. than Canada, so it serves as a great foil. Did Canada experience a doubling or tripling in nickel production in order to fill the gap left by the penny? Below is the Royal Canadian Mint's nickel production from 2005 to present: No, the amount of nickels didn't jump in 2013 or 2014, the year after the penny's abolition. In fact, since the penny ban in 2012, Canadian nickel production has remained well-below its pre-2012 level of 200 million to 250 million. Having rebutted Weller's fill-the-gap claim by working through an example, now we'll rebut it mathematically. Let's take a look at all retail transactions that end in 1 cent to 99 cents, and how these transactions differ in a penny and post-penny world. A store will want to have enough change on hand to facilitate each of these one hundred transaction types. In the table below, I’ve listed all one hundred transactions and, assuming the customer pays with the next whole-dollar amount (e.g., if $40.71 is due, they pay with $41), how much coin change is required. First, let's look at the yellow half of the table, which shows how much change must be returned to the customer when the penny is still in circulation. In total, 200 pennies will be required for all one hundred transactions, with the one-cent piece showing up in 80% of all transactions. As for the nickel, a total of 40 nickels will be required, with the customer getting a nickel back in 40% of all transactions. Now let's remove the penny and introduce rounding to the nearest five cents. Will more nickels be required to "fill the gap" left by the penny, as alleged by the coin lobby?  Take a look at the orange area, which shows the shopping experience in a post-penny world. In the first column, I provide the rounded amount that the customer must pay. The demand for pennies has obviously fallen to zero in this world, as the policy intended. But the total amount of nickels required in our one hundred transactions remains at 40, as before. Nothing has changed. Note that the total number of dimes and quarters required also stays constant in both worlds, at 80 and 150 respectively, with 60% and 70% of all transactions needing these larger coins as change. What is happening? If you look more closely, you'll see that certain transaction amounts that didn't require a nickel in change before, like $0.96, now require a nickel (since the amount due is rounded down to $0.95.) But other amounts that once required a nickel, like $0.92, no longer do (since the amount is rounded down to $0.90, for which dimes are the most efficient change.) In short, for every amount owed by the customer that now requires a nickel in change, another amount owed no longer requires a nickel.  So when lobbyists like Mark Weller say that "the volume of nickels in circulation would have to rise to fill the gap," their math is flat out wrong: the removal of the penny does not require more nickels as change.  In real life, these one hundred transactions may not be entirely random or uniformly distributed; shopkeepers may have certain preferred prices points, thus skewing the amount of coins required as change. But I doubt the effect is very large, as suggested by the Canadian example. So both mathematically and empirically, Americans shouldn't be afraid of dropping the penny because they'll be saddled with even more awful nickels. That's just lobbyist propaganda. In a post-penny America, you get all the benefits of zero pennies with no extra nickels required.

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.