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illegal

and

could

be

considered a kind of digital

asset that people should be

allowed to buy and sell. The

document also said that

virtual-currency

exchanges

needed to register with the

Ministry of Information; this

suggested that the exchanges

weren’t going to be shut

down.

The bad news, Ling

explained,

was

that

the

government had ruled that

Bitcoin was not a currency,

but was, instead, a digital

commodity.

The Chinese government

had stepped right into the

middle of the ongoing debate

about how to define Bitcoin

and had actually found itself

in agreement with Wences

Casares and many other

advocates for Bitcoin, who

believed that in 2013 the files

on the blockchain were more

similar to commodities, like

gold, than to currencies, like

dollars and euros, because

Bitcoins were not yet widely

or easily used as a medium of

exchange or as units for

accounting. Beyond those

qualities,

the

Chinese

government had also said that

Bitcoin lacked the most

important characteristic of a

currency:

government

backing.

The

Chinese

government’s categorization

of Bitcoin as a digital

commodity didn’t, on its face,

seem terrible to Bobby.

Within China, almost no one

was using Bitcoin to buy and

sell things—it was still just a

speculative investment. The

problem, though, was that

because it was not considered

money, the government had

declared that banks and

payment processors could not

deal with Bitcoin, either

directly or indirectly.

Bobby grilled Ling on

what this meant. Would

Tencent,

the

payment

processor,

have

to

stop

transferring yuan to BTC

China

for

customers

if

Tencent

itself

wasn’t

touching Bitcoins? If so, that

could be deadly.

As was often the case

with Chinese government

statements, the specifics were

left unclear, giving party

officials flexibility to deal

with the situation as it

progressed.

Ling

wasn’t

hopeful about where this

would lead. The statement

made it clear that government

officials were not happy with

the degree of speculation they

had seen.

But

Bobby

was

an

American-educated optimist

and Tencent hadn’t shut BTC

China down yet. What’s

more, there was obvious

room in the statement for

them

to

continue

doing

business.

The market seemed to

agree with Bobby. In the hour

immediately after the Chinese

government statement had

come out, the price of Bitcoin

had entered a free fall,

dropping 25 percent to 5,200

yuan. But soon thereafter the

price began recovering, and it

was already back to around

6,400 by the time Bobby was

through customs.

That afternoon Bobby

gave a talk at his alma mater,

Stanford, and explained that

he

was

“cautiously

optimistic” about the new

rules.

But

that

day’s

statement was not the final

word from the government.

CHAPTER 27

December 7, 2013

The extent to which Bitcoin

could survive and grow

without government approval

was on display in Buenos

Aires, at the first conference

hosted by Bitcoin Argentina.

The group had been founded

by Wences Casares’s old

friend Diego along with a

partner he had met at a

Bitcoin Meetup earlier in the

year. For the conference the

men had booked a big hotel

in downtown Buenos Aires

and managed to sell four

hundred tickets, with about

40 percent going to foreigners

like

Roger

Ver,

Erik

Voorhees, and Charlie Shrem.

The ticket-buying process

itself had put a spotlight on

one of the most promising

Bitcoin startups to emerge

from Argentina and one of

the first companies anywhere

using the network to legally

provide a service that wasn’t

possible with the traditional

financial system.

In Argentina, credit card

transactions with foreigners,

like the sale of conference

tickets

to

Americans,

normally took a long and

expensive route before paying

out

in

Argentina.

The

American customer’s credit

card company would deduct

around $2.50 from the $100

ticket price to send the money

to Diego’s Argentinian bank.

From there, the Argentinian

bank would generally charge

another 3 percent for the

foreign exchange, leaving

$94.50. The big hit, though,

happened

when

the

Argentinian bank turned the

dollars into pesos. If Diego

converted the $94.50 with a

money changer on the street

he could have gotten the

unofficial rate of around 9.7

pesos for each dollar, leaving

him with 915 pesos. But the

bank exchanged the money at

the official exchange rate set

by

the

government—6.3

pesos at the time of the

conference—giving

him,

instead, 595 pesos. On top of

that, Diego’s bank wouldn’t

give him those pesos until

twenty

days

after

the

customer

purchased

the

ticket.

The Argentinian Bitcoin

startup, BitPagos, provided a

clever

way

around

this

expensive morass. BitPagos

took the $100 credit card

payment in the United States

and charged a 5 percent fee.

But instead of transferring the

remaining

$95

to

an

Argentinian bank, BitPagos

used the dollars to buy

Bitcoins in the United States.

BitPagos then transferred the

Bitcoins directly to Diego. He

could either keep the Bitcoins

or exchange them for pesos at

the unofficial exchange rate,

thus ending up with around

920 pesos, instead of 595.

And rather than taking twenty

days, BitPagos gave him his

Bitcoins in two days.

BitPagos had been started

earlier in the year by two

young Argentinians, a man

and a woman, who had been

running

a

consulting

company and struggling to

take payments from foreign

customers. In addition to

collecting ticket payments for

the foundation, the new

company was getting traction

with hotels that took money

from foreign tourists and

didn’t want to pay the cost of

getting those payments into

pesos. By the time of the

conference,

BitPagos

had

already signed up around

thirty hotels. Most of these

hoteliers didn’t care about the