The crypto crash has come again. And it is as brutal as ever. In barely six weeks, more than US$1.2 trillion has evaporated from cryptocurrencies’ market capitalization. The sell-off has sent bitcoin back to levels last seen in April. The world’s largest cryptocurrency briefly fell below US$90,000 this week, shedding almost a third of its value since its October peak.
The key to understanding crypto is that it has no “value” in any economic sense. It generates no income, commands no productive capacity and pays no dividends. Unlike state money, it is not backed by a tax base or a fiscal authority. What props up its price is not cashflow but expectation: the hope that someone else could validate today’s valuation tomorrow. When sentiment turns sour or people pull their money out, there is nothing to break cryptocurrencies’ fall. Prices do not correct, they collapse. In 2023, MPs rightly said that cryptocurrency trading in the UK should be regulated as a form of gambling — a demand rejected by the then Tory government.
The volatility of cryptocurrencies is not accidental but structural. The Financial Times reported that investors pulled out of crypto because there was a shunning worldwide of speculative assets amid concerns about sky-high artificial intelligence valuations and the path of US interest rates. While the crash is global, Britain is uniquely vulnerable to its fallout. No other large economy has so thoroughly hollowed out social mobility while selling to its young the myth of entrepreneurial escape. No surprise then that Britons are more likely to have bought into crypto than other Europeans.
Regulators warn that too many young people in Britain are turning to crypto, often borrowing to do so because they want to “win big.” The UK has become, in effect, a one-shot society — a place where stagnant wages and unaffordable housing leave millions clutching at any chance, however illusory, to escape. The US rapper Eminem captured this mentality in his hit Lose Yourself: “Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted… would you capture it?”
For a generation locked out of asset ownership, crypto is marketed as that “one moment.”
It is in many ways the clearest symbol of an economic system running out of road: a promise of freedom built on an asset class whose standing depends on decisions made in Washington. Cryptocurrencies rise and fall with the Nasdaq; the dollar system is their unseen plumbing; and their values are determined by the White House. However, the crisis has been viewed as an opportunity by the political right. They sell crypto to the masses as rebellious empowerment.
Having once dismissed bitcoin as “based on thin air,” US President Donald Trump now revels in his role as “crypto president.” Under Trump, crypto has become a machinery of patronage, deregulation and self-enrichment that is unprecedented in modern US politics. Former US president Joe Biden’s attempts to regulate crypto businesses — which have provided routes for fraud and money laundering — have been eviscerated.
Those on the right of politics who want to be supplicants to Trumpian power, whether that is Argentine President Javier Milei or MP Nigel Farage, embrace crypto aggressively. It lets them pose as the insurgent alternative to a “rigged” system — accepting donations in anonymous digital payments to prove the point — while sucking up to Trump. Crypto is not the end of politics in money. It resembles nothing so much as the latest way for the powerful to profit from the powerless.
In the event of a war with China, Taiwan has some surprisingly tough defenses that could make it as difficult to tackle as a porcupine: A shoreline dotted with swamps, rocks and concrete barriers; conscription for all adult men; highways and airports that are built to double as hardened combat facilities. This porcupine has a soft underbelly, though, and the war in Iran is exposing it: energy. About 39,000 ships dock at Taiwan’s ports each year, more than the 30,000 that transit the Strait of Hormuz. About one-fifth of their inbound tonnage is coal, oil, refined fuels and liquefied natural gas (LNG),
On Monday, the day before Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) departed on her visit to China, the party released a promotional video titled “Only with peace can we ‘lie flat’” to highlight its desire to have peace across the Taiwan Strait. However, its use of the expression “lie flat” (tang ping, 躺平) drew sarcastic comments, with critics saying it sounded as if the party was “bowing down” to the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). Amid the controversy over the opposition parties blocking proposed defense budgets, Cheng departed for China after receiving an invitation from the CCP, with a meeting with
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) is leading a delegation to China through Sunday. She is expected to meet with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) in Beijing tomorrow. That date coincides with the anniversary of the signing of the Taiwan Relations Act (TRA), which marked a cornerstone of Taiwan-US relations. Staging their meeting on this date makes it clear that the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) intends to challenge the US and demonstrate its “authority” over Taiwan. Since the US severed official diplomatic relations with Taiwan in 1979, it has relied on the TRA as a legal basis for all
To counter the CCP’s escalating threats, Taiwan must build a national consensus and demonstrate the capability and the will to fight. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) often leans on a seductive mantra to soften its threats, such as “Chinese do not kill Chinese.” The slogan is designed to frame territorial conquest (annexation) as a domestic family matter. A look at the historical ledger reveals a different truth. For the CCP, being labeled “family” has never been a guarantee of safety; it has been the primary prerequisite for state-sanctioned slaughter. From the forced starvation of 150,000 civilians at the Siege of Changchun
RSS