At a closed-door conference in late 2024, the Central Intelligence Agency’s general counsel stood before a small audience of intelligence and financial professionals and said what few in crypto dared to voice: Bitcoin, by design, is an intelligence-collection tool. The remark was not a critique—it was a strategic recognition. For us in the open-source community, it landed like a stone thrown into still water. The ripples are not price movements; they are existential questions about what we have built.
Consider the context. For years, the crypto ecosystem has orbited two competing narratives: Bitcoin as digital gold—a sovereign store of value immune to state control—and Bitcoin as a criminal playground, a darknet currency for illicit transactions. Both are half-truths. What the CIA lawyer articulated was a third narrative, one rooted in the protocol’s deepest technical feature: traceability. Every transaction on Bitcoin is permanently etched into a public ledger. Addresses are pseudonymous, not anonymous. With the right tools—and the CIA has access to the best—this transparency transforms the chain into a surveillance map. Code is law, but ethics is soul. And the soul of surveillance is control.
I have spent the last seven years translating Ethereum’s whitepaper into Portuguese, auditing DeFi protocols like Aave for hidden flaws, and building open-source toolkits for human verification. In 2020, I spent 600 hours auditing Aave’s initial interest rate models and found three critical logic errors that could have caused a $4 million exploit. That experience taught me that technical oversight must include social contract verification. The CIA’s statement is a reminder that the social contract we thought we had—Bitcoin as a permissionless, peer-to-peer cash system—can be redefined by powerful actors with different values.
Let’s look at the technical core. The claim that Bitcoin is an intelligence tool is not new; what is new is official admission. The public ledger is the bedrock of Bitcoin’s security model. It prevents double-spending and allows anyone to verify the chain. That same property enables forensic accounting on a global scale. Chainalysis and Elliptic have built billion-dollar businesses on it. The CIA’s endorsement—if it can be called that—legitimizes and accelerates this trend. But there is a nuance: the CIA sees Bitcoin as a tool for tracking adversaries, not for monitoring law-abiding citizens. Yet the architecture of surveillance is non-discriminatory. Once a government can trace every transaction, the line between national security and domestic surveillance blurs. Transparency isn’t the oxygen of trust; it can be the fuel of control.
My own journey with Bitcoin began in 2017, when I distributed 5,000 physical copies of my translated Ethereum whitepaper at the Lisbon Web Summit. I embedded an 80-page ethical commentary on decentralization, arguing that cryptographic truth must replace centralized trust. I still believe that. But the CIA’s statement forces me to confront a hard question: what happens when the very property we celebrated—traceability—becomes the instrument of that same centralized power we sought to escape? It is not an argument against Bitcoin; it is an invitation to build privacy layers on top. Lightning, Taproot, coinjoin—these are not luxuries. They are necessities.
The contrarian angle is uncomfortable. Many in the crypto community will dismiss this as fear-mongering or old news. After all, governments have been tracking Bitcoin for years. But the CIA’s public framing signals a strategic shift: Bitcoin is no longer a threat to national security; it is an asset. This could lead to regulatory convenience—clearer rules, easier compliance—at the cost of undermining the very ethos of permissionlessness. In my 2022 essay, "Code as Law, but People as Gods," I argued that bear markets are when we refine our values. The CIA’s embrace is a bull-market test of our convictions. Do we value privacy more than convenience? Do we want Bitcoin to be a tool for everyone, or a tool for the powerful?
I recently spearheaded the "Verifiable Humanity" initiative, partnering with AI startups to integrate zero-knowledge proofs for human verification without revealing identity. The goal was to preserve agency against algorithmic automation. That same principle applies here. Zero-knowledge proofs, statechains, and other privacy-enhancing technologies can make Bitcoin’s traceability opt-in rather than default. But adoption requires community effort and developer attention. The CIA’s statement is a wake-up call: code is law, but ethics is soul. We must decide whether the soul of Bitcoin remains decentralized or becomes a surveillance-friendly ledger.
How should the ecosystem respond? Not by panic, but by deliberate action. First, fund and implement privacy technologies on Bitcoin itself. Second, advocate for clear legal boundaries on government blockchain surveillance. Third, educate users that pseudonymity is not anonymity—and that tools exist to reclaim privacy. In a bull market, articles like this are soon forgotten. But the quiet, earnest work of building ethical infrastructure endures. As I wrote in 2023 after the Terra collapse, "evangelism is not shouting during bull markets; it is whispering truth during bear markets." Today, that whisper carries a warning: when the CIA calls Bitcoin its tool, the only way to keep it ours is to ensure it remains a tool for the people.
Take this forward to your next governance discussion. Ask your DAO: are we building for compliance or for sovereignty? The answer will shape the next decade of open-source finance.


