When Matt Danzico began seeing cryptocurrency logos in the packaging of grocery store items, he knew he had a problem. Danzico had been swept up in the global craze for trading digital currencies during the pandemic, and very quickly it had grown into an obsession.
“I would have these sleepless nights where I’d be tossing and turning, trying to get these charts out of my head,” said the Barcelona-based designer and visual journalist. “I thought I was losing my mind.”
Cryptocurrencies like bitcoin and ethereum are notorious for their volatility, and the 39-year-old saw “years worth of money won and lost in a very short amount of time.”
Photo: REUTERS
His emotions went on a similar rollercoaster, not helped by the fact that he was speculating in the depths of a COVID-19 lockdown. His wife noticed him becoming anxious and angry.
Danzico declines to specify the damage the experiment did to his finances — suffice to say that “for our bank account, it was bad.”
Reflecting months later during a trip home to the US, the cheerful American mostly feels relieved that he nipped his addiction in the bud fairly quickly.
But as cryptocurrencies have grown from being a niche interest to a more mainstream one, Danzico says experiences much darker than his own are unfolding worldwide.
“We’re talking tens of millions of people who are trading cryptocurrencies,” he said.
“If one small fraction of those people are becoming hooked, we’re talking about a burgeoning potential mental health crisis on a scale that I don’t think that the world has ever seen.”
THE DARKNESS OF CRYPTO TWITTER
Danzico points out that you need look no further than Twitter, where crypto enthusiasts congregate, for a sense of the mental health consequences of the tokens’ chronic instability. Tweets by “people discussing deep depression, really extreme thoughts of isolation and suicide” often accompany plunges in value. In September, a Czech man’s tale of his disastrous attempt to get rich from crypto — taking on spiraling debts as he attempted to claw back his losses — went viral on Twitter.
Depressed and homeless, he was too ashamed to ask for help.
“When I called my mom I just said it’s all ok, I have [a] good job, place to sleep. In reality I was starving,” wrote the user named Jirka, who has since started rebuilding his life.
Disturbed by his own experience and others described online, Danzico began researching crypto addiction, writing up his findings in an article for crypto news site Cointelegraph. He found just one small-scale study into crypto addiction in Turkey, and a few therapists offering professional help, from Thailand to the US.
Experts regard the phenomenon as a form of gambling addiction, noting similarities with Wall Street traders whose investments have spun out of control.
Castle Craig, a Scottish rehab clinic, describes crypto addiction as a “modern day epidemic.” The problem is more common in men, the clinic notes on its Web site, “but this might just be because women trade cryptocurrencies less than men.”
ART AS THERAPY
For Danzico, it’s “alarming” that more specialized help isn’t available. Part of the problem, he suspects, is that people don’t realize quite how mainstream crypto speculation has become. Trading platform Crypto.com estimated in July that 221 million people were now trading worldwide. That figure had more than doubled in six months as millions began dabbling while stuck at home during the pandemic. It was only after Danzico began trading himself that he began noticing signs that fellow traders were everywhere.
A neighbor would whoop every time ethereum spiked; he’d see young men in the street fretting over a crypto chart on a phone screen. Danzico kicked his own habit by pouring his obsession into photography, using a light projector to superimpose images of crypto logos and charts onto the world around him.
Finding a way to express how all-consuming trading had become “somehow allowed me to move past it”, he said.
He is now, with self-confessed irony, selling digital versions of the images as NFTs — non-fungible tokens, for which he is paid in ethereum.
Danzico still has some crypto assets, and believes that decentralized finance has a bright future. But he wants society to face up to what he regards as “an enormous mental health crisis.”
“You have kids who are literally becoming millionaires in their parents’ basements and then losing it all before they run up for dinner,” he said.
“What we can do is begin talking about this.”
Towering high above Taiwan’s capital city at 508 meters, Taipei 101 dominates the skyline. The earthquake-proof skyscraper of steel and glass has captured the imagination of professional rock climber Alex Honnold for more than a decade. Tomorrow morning, he will climb it in his signature free solo style — without ropes or protective equipment. And Netflix will broadcast it — live. The event’s announcement has drawn both excitement and trepidation, as well as some concerns over the ethical implications of attempting such a high-risk endeavor on live broadcast. Many have questioned Honnold’s desire to continues his free-solo climbs now that he’s a
As Taiwan’s second most populous city, Taichung looms large in the electoral map. Taiwanese political commentators describe it — along with neighboring Changhua County — as Taiwan’s “swing states” (搖擺州), which is a curious direct borrowing from American election terminology. In the early post-Martial Law era, Taichung was referred to as a “desert of democracy” because while the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) was winning elections in the north and south, Taichung remained staunchly loyal to the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT). That changed over time, but in both Changhua and Taichung, the DPP still suffers from a “one-term curse,” with the
Jan. 26 to Feb. 1 Nearly 90 years after it was last recorded, the Basay language was taught in a classroom for the first time in September last year. Over the following three months, students learned its sounds along with the customs and folktales of the Ketagalan people, who once spoke it across northern Taiwan. Although each Ketagalan settlement had its own language, Basay functioned as a common trade language. By the late 19th century, it had largely fallen out of daily use as speakers shifted to Hoklo (commonly known as Taiwanese), surviving only in fragments remembered by the elderly. In
William Liu (劉家君) moved to Kaohsiung from Nantou to live with his boyfriend Reg Hong (洪嘉佑). “In Nantou, people do not support gay rights at all and never even talk about it. Living here made me optimistic and made me realize how much I can express myself,” Liu tells the Taipei Times. Hong and his friend Cony Hsieh (謝昀希) are both active in several LGBT groups and organizations in Kaohsiung. They were among the people behind the city’s 16th Pride event in November last year, which gathered over 35,000 people. Along with others, they clearly see Kaohsiung as the nexus of LGBT rights.