Industry Reflection: From Don't Be Evil to Being Evil, Wealth Arrived Before Utility
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Industry Reflection: From Don't Be Evil to Being Evil, Wealth Arrived Before Utility
Wealth arrived long before utility, and it is not merely a minor glitch that will resolve itself over time; rather, it poses a fatal threat to technology's ability to realize its potential.
Navigating Web3 tides with focused insightsAuthor: Murtaza
Translation: TechFlow
Some say the scale of the internet revolution is so vast that human society struggles to fully assess its pros and cons. For me personally, however, the internet has indeed been overwhelmingly beneficial. The promised advantages of disintermediation, equality, and connection have manifested clearly in my life. Even when the internet occasionally brings minor issues or frustrations, these pale in comparison to its benefits.
Therefore, whenever I hear someone designing new extensions or improvements for the digital world, my first reaction is always: "Great!" This was also my initial response upon learning about technologies like Bitcoin, smart contracts, and blockchain. These technologies quickly captured my interest and enthusiasm years ago. As an "outsider" in my own field—much like many in Silicon Valley—I was one of the journalists covering Edward Snowden’s revelations in the 2010s, which instilled in me some liberal leanings and further fueled my passion for these technologies. I soon became a "evangelist" for blockchain and successfully brought several others into the fold.
For reasons I will elaborate on later—and that are relevant to this article—I no longer enthusiastically promote cryptocurrency and blockchain to others. While I still follow developments in the industry and even experiment with some blockchain-based platforms, I find myself more skeptical than I was just a few years ago about the industry's promises.
Still, I remain open-minded. It is precisely for this reason that I recently read Chris Dixon’s *Read, Write Own*. Beyond its attractive cover, I found the book makes a commendable effort to revive the promise of a technology that shouldn’t be so controversial. Dixon’s book also touches on a crucial debate—one that will determine whether blockchain can save the internet from centralization, censorship, and corporate control, or end up exacerbating these very problems.
Casinos, Computers, and Counterculture
In recent years, I’ve probably read around 18 to 20 books on cryptocurrency and blockchain. While some were helpful, I’ve grown weary of the exaggeration, arrogance, hollow speculation, and ideological extremism common in this space. In contrast, *Read, Write, Own* stands out as a calm and professional work. Dixon writes clearly and evidently understands and cares deeply about the internet.
The book briefly reviews the history of the internet and its evolution from protocols to platforms, then focuses on today’s problems of corporate control and how blockchain might solve them. Dixon delivers sharp criticism of big tech companies’ exploitative “take rates” and the undemocratic nature of the current digital world—a reality that renders most of us tenant farmers in content factories.
He also offers some critique of the existing cryptocurrency industry. In doing so, he touches on what I believe are core issues facing this technology and its future potential.
As Dixon notes, blockchain is currently split between two worlds he calls the “casino” and the “computer”—a metaphor I’ll return to later. The casino refers to the speculative world that cryptocurrency has become synonymous with in the public imagination, while the computer represents the underlying technology and its promise of building a better internet.
Dixon’s book is written for lovers of the “computer.” He writes with evident passion about the internet—a passion I happen to share—recalling an era when passionate nerds tinkered in garages to improve their small inventions. Dixon portrays blockchain developers as revolutionary outsiders, drawing on classic rags-to-riches genius stories, inviting us to imagine:
“Imagine a countercultural twenty-something Steve Jobs attending the Homebrew Computer Club, a gathering of microcomputer enthusiasts who met monthly in California during the 1970s. Imagine Linus Torvalds in 1991 as a University of Helsinki student writing a personal project that would become the Linux operating system bearing his name. Or imagine Larry Page and Sergey Brin dropping out of Stanford and moving into a Menlo Park garage in 1998 to turn their web-link directory project, BackRub, into Google.”
This is the world of computer culture. What most of us know—FTX and dubious Bitcoin influencers—represents the casino culture. “Computer culture is long-term; casino culture is not,” writes Dixon. “So it’s computers versus casinos in the battle to define the narrative of this software movement.”
While he correctly identifies a fundamental conflict, I believe the problem is far more complex than Dixon describes. Blockchain technology itself remains in a garage-inventor phase. Yet economically, it has already prematurely leapt beyond that stage.
To date, the global cryptocurrency industry has a market capitalization exceeding $2 trillion. Normally, an industry of this size emerges only after creating something genuinely useful to society. Here, however, wealth arrived first, while real utility still depends on vague promises about the future. Aside from a few laudable exceptions like stablecoins, most of this money has gone toward building a massive global casino and tools to circumvent capital controls—accompanied by endless seductive narratives and incentive schemes, as if straight out of a book on Narrative Economics.
In my view, this unusual sequence—wealth arriving far ahead of utility—is not merely a minor glitch that will resolve itself over time. It poses a fatal threat to the technology’s ability to fulfill its potential.
Don't Be Evil, But Already Are
Google once had a famous corporate motto: “Don’t be evil.” Though partly tongue-in-cheek, it acknowledged that great power and wealth naturally invite moral hazards, potentially leading to actions contrary to the public good. Eventually, Google changed both the slogan and its corporate name—perhaps because, upon growing into such a massive economy, engaging in unethical behavior seemed an inevitable byproduct.
Dixon argues blockchain is a technology capable of preventing big tech from turning evil in the future. He writes: “Blockchain networks turn ‘don’t be evil’ into ‘can’t be evil.’” Their architecture provides strong guarantees that their data and code will always remain open and composable.
He describes how corporate platforms inevitably enter an “extractive” phase, where they begin maximizing economic extraction from users at the expense of the platform’s overall health. He makes a compelling point: if Twitter and Facebook had operated as protocols, like email, or as blockchain-based services, no greedy CEO could have turned them against their users.
Yet while the technology itself may be neutral, Dixon’s reference to corporate “evil” reminds me of a critical issue in the blockchain and crypto industry: it has already exhibited signs of evil.
The crypto industry has its own CEOs, investors, and venture capitalists—many of whom have already amassed enormous wealth from a technology whose practical use remains unclear. Despite not yet delivering transformative change to the world or the internet, the blockchain industry has already engaged in behaviors akin to those of “robber barons”: lobbying politicians for favorable policies, elite financial self-dealing, catastrophic investor scandals, and other practices typically associated with the worst excesses of corporate America.
Moreover, ransomware attacks using cryptocurrency are rising sharply (many going unreported). While this isn’t a direct indictment of crypto itself, the scale vastly outweighs current noble uses—such as sending remittances to rural Congolese villages cut off from Western Union.
Thus, we face an uncomfortable reality: the industry has turned “evil” before it has even proven itself functional. So it’s no surprise the public has lost trust. Some may dismiss this hostility toward crypto as Luddism, “political correctness,” or primitive resistance to progress. But I believe it is a rational and understandable response to the current state of affairs.
Many blockchain developers downplay concerns by claiming the technology is still in its “early days,” or that we’re in “1999 of the internet” (the year varies). But fifteen years have passed since Bitcoin’s debut—this excuse no longer holds water. Believing technology naturally progresses through stages like destiny feels less like rational analysis and more like religious faith. Historically, unfulfilled grand promises are actually far more common.
Despite its significant financial and political influence, the blockchain industry currently has only around 22,000 active developers working on projects. According to recent data, this number is actually declining.
This doesn’t mean blockchain technology is dead or hopeless—but it does reveal a problem: the gap between the massive “casino” and the tiny “computer” may be even wider than it appears. Those backing the “casino” are already funding elections and rewriting laws to serve their interests, while the “computer” remains idle in some garage.
Revolutionary Suicide
Representatives of the blockchain world often portray themselves as “inevitable,” possessing unique knowledge, persecuted opponents of a corrupt and untrustworthy establishment, and potential anti-elites. I’ve heard similar claims before.
While reporting on the Syrian civil war, I listened to opposition leaders—many of whom were wealthy and globally connected—as they delivered powerful critiques of the regime they sought to overthrow. That regime was indeed terrible, and in the early days of the war, the opposition seemed destined to win. Yet things didn’t unfold as expected. Unfortunately, due in part to rebels’ inability to govern themselves or establish attractive governance in areas they controlled, most people eventually chose to support the devil they knew. The regime change many believed inevitable in 2011 never materialized. Many unfinished revolutions meet this fate.
Situations might have been different if the Syrian opposition had engaged in stricter self-reflection—a necessity for any human endeavor. I’ve been waiting for the cryptocurrency industry to conduct serious self-criticism, but its culture seems more like optimistic corporate PR mixed with ecstatic anticipation and other religious-like emotions that often accompany the birth of new forms of money.
Cryptocurrency was introduced as a revolutionary technology, but that revolution appears to have been corrupted. The negligence, exploitation, and abuse by many of its current supporters have alienated the public and driven people back to the very establishments they hoped to dismantle. After witnessing the behavior of many emerging authorities, I’ve even developed a slight fondness for institutions like *The New York Times* and Chase Bank—something I never thought possible.
Physician, Heal Thyself
You might label me a critic for these sharp remarks (in fact, someone once called me a “lackey of the establishment,” despite their net worth being 800 to 1,200 times mine). Ultimately, I’m writing this piece on Paragraph for the benefit of Farcaster users—a platform I hope can thrive. I don’t hate cryptocurrency or blockchain; I occasionally even participate. I generally love the internet and am impressed by some past innovations from Silicon Valley. I simply wish this industry would deliver on the grand promises it keeps making.
Facing the crypto world feels like confronting a critically ill patient—one requiring strong, painful treatment to recover. Responsible regulation is inevitable, but we must also consider its effects. To allow the technology to develop sustainably, the speculative elements must be drastically reduced—or even shut down entirely.
As someone holding a small amount of cryptocurrency, I don’t say this lightly. But in the long run, whether through regulation or industry self-discipline, blockchain’s future might be brighter if its current $2 trillion market cap were slashed by 80–90% in the short term. Such a reduction would help drive out the fraudsters and opportunists聚集ing around the casino—both online and offline—and return public space to technologists truly committed to the noble vision of “Read, Write, Own.” It would also give the public a chance to re-engage with blockchain in a more pragmatic way.
This prospect won’t please those who’ve already gotten rich from crypto, or those trying to legitimize their wealth through political means. But if anyone truly values ideals like decentralization, disintermediation, and anti-censorship, then the noise of the casino must temporarily cease—until the technology creates something valuable for society.
We all aspire to lofty goals—that’s not shameful. But to reach them, you must first build the tools that can carry you there.
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