Bitcoin: this is what a bubble looks like

Not if, but when, the bubble will burst.

This is what a bubble looks like:

That's the market capitalisation of Bitcoin, an innovative fiat currency which relies on some fancy cryptography to create a perfectly decentralised and unhackable store of value. The graph shows the total value of all bitcoins in circulation — and it's currently peaking at a little over half a billion dollars.

In a sense, Bitcoins are the ultimate fiat currency. There is absolutely nothing valuable about them except the extent to which others are prepared to take them as payment for goods and services. The willingness relies on a certain level of trust that the currency will stay a useful store of value, measure of exchange and unit of account in the near future; but whereas normal currencies derive the trust from the fact that they are backed up by respectable governments and independent central banks, Bitcoin derives it from a complex, and essentially permanent, set of rules which issue new bit coins at a steadily declining rate until the early 22nd century, when the total quantity of bitcoins in circulation will be fixed forever.

Currently, bitcoin is very useful for fringe-legal transactions, and as a digital-native currency, it has potential to be used in a wide array of web services. But that's not why the value of the total economy has more than tripled since January. For that, look to lessons we learned over four hundred years ago.

The South Sea bubble is one of the most famous boom-and-bust cycles in history. At the peak of the madness, famously, a huckster appeared public advertising stock in "a company for carrying out an undertaking of great advantage, but nobody to know what it is". Naturally, he disappeared soon after.

But looking back at contemporary sources reveals something else which is just as important: very few people caught up in the madness thought that they were buying something innately valuable. These weren't naïve investors spending exorbitant sums on stock which they thought would vest unrealistic rewards; instead, they knew full well the bubble they were buying into, but thought that they could sell out of it at profit before the whole thing came crashing down. Some did; but inevitably, many others failed.

Much the same seems to be at play in the Bitcoin ecosystem. It's not just people like Hugo Rifkind, who accidentally made £41 from his foray into bit coin investing; Timothy Lee, a writer for Ars Technica, holds nearly a tenth of his investment portfolio in bitcoin, having bought in last January and seen a ten-fold increase in value.

But while there's been a massive increase in bitcoin price, there's not been anywhere near an equivalent increase in the currency's use. A glance at blockchain.info, which displays all transactions, shows that the vast majority of bitcoin transactions—by number, if not by value—are made at the site SatoshiDICE, a gambling organisation. In fact, the ever-increasing value of bitcoins is like to act as to depress the bitcoin economy, as people decide to hold on to their money rather than exchange it for services, knowing that it will surely increase in value.

The crash will come. At the heady peaks it's at right now, only the slightest spark will be required to turn the trend negative. In 2011, the previous bubble burst when Mt Gox, then the most popular bureau d'exchange for the fledgeling currency, was disastrously hacked. This time, I doubt it would take that. The peaks are so high, and so many people have so much money "invested" in the currency, that the rush to be the first out of a bear market will be vicious to behold.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Who "speaks for England" - and for that matter, what is "England"?

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones.

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones. It trotted out Leo Amery’s House of Commons call from September 1939, “Speak for England”, for the headline on a deranged leader that filled a picture-free front page on David Cameron’s “deal” to keep Britain in the EU.

Demands that somebody or other speak for England have followed thick and fast ever since Amery addressed his call to Labour’s Arthur Greenwood when Neville Chamberlain was still dithering over war with Hitler. Tory MPs shouted, “Speak for England!” when Michael Foot, the then Labour leader, rose in the Commons in 1982 after Argentina’s invasion of the Falklands. The Mail columnist Andrew Alexander called on Clare Short to “speak for England” over the Iraq War in 2003. “Can [Ed] Miliband speak for England?” Anthony Barnett asked in this very magazine in 2013. (Judging by the 2015 election result, one would say not.) “I speak for England,” claimed John Redwood last year. “Labour must speak for England,” countered Frank Field soon afterwards.

The Mail’s invocation of Amery was misconceived for two reasons. First, Amery wanted us to wage war in Europe in support of Hitler’s victims in Poland and elsewhere and in alliance with France, not to isolate ourselves from the continent. Second, “speak for England” in recent years has been used in support of “English votes for English laws”, following proposals for further devolution to Scotland. As the Mail was among the most adamant in demanding that Scots keep their noses out of English affairs, it’s a bit rich of it now to state “of course, by ‘England’. . . we mean the whole of the United Kingdom”.

 

EU immemorial

The Mail is also wrong in arguing that “we are at a crossroads in our island history”. The suggestion that the choice is between “submitting to a statist, unelected bureaucracy in Brussels” and reclaiming our ancient island liberties is pure nonsense. In the long run, withdrawing from the EU will make little difference. Levels of immigration will be determined, as they always have been, mainly by employers’ demands for labour and the difficulties of policing the borders of a country that has become a leading international transport hub. The terms on which we continue to trade with EU members will be determined largely by unelected bureaucrats in Brussels after discussions with unelected bureaucrats in London.

The British are bored by the EU and the interminable Westminster arguments. If voters support Brexit, it will probably be because they then expect to hear no more on the subject. They will be sadly mistaken. The withdrawal negotiations will take years, with the Farages and Duncan Smiths still foaming at the mouth, Cameron still claiming phoney victories and Angela Merkel, François Hollande and the dreaded Jean-Claude Juncker playing a bigger part in our lives than ever.

 

An empty cabinet

Meanwhile, one wonders what has become of Jeremy Corbyn or, indeed, the rest of the shadow cabinet. The Mail’s “speak for England” leader excoriated him for not mentioning “the Number One subject of the hour” at PM’s Questions but instead asking about a shortage of therapeutic radiographers in the NHS. In fact, the NHS’s problems – almost wholly caused by Tory “reforms” and spending cuts – would concern more people than does our future in the EU. But radiographers are hardly headline news, and Corbyn and his team seem unable to get anything into the nation’s “any other business”, never mind to the top of its agenda.

Public services deteriorate by the day, George Osborne’s fiscal plans look increasingly awry, and attempts to wring tax receipts out of big corporations appear hopelessly inadequate. Yet since Christmas I have hardly seen a shadow minister featured in the papers or spotted one on TV, except to say something about Trident, another subject that most voters don’t care about.

 

Incurable prose

According to the Guardian’s admirable but (let’s be honest) rather tedious series celeb­rating the NHS, a US health-care firm has advised investors that “privatisation of the UK marketplace . . . should create organic and de novo opportunities”. I have no idea what this means, though it sounds ominous. But I am quite certain I don’t want my local hospital or GP practice run by people who write prose like that.

 

Fashionable Foxes

My home-town football team, Leicester City, are normally so unfashionable that they’re not even fashionable in Leicester, where the smart set mostly watch the rugby union team Leicester Tigers. Even when they installed themselves near the top of the Premier League before Christmas, newspapers scarcely noticed them.

Now, with the Foxes five points clear at the top and 7-4 favourites for their first title, that mistake is corrected and the sports pages are running out of superlatives, a comparison with Barcelona being the most improbable. Even I, not a football enthusiast, have watched a few matches. If more football were played as Leicester play it – moving at speed towards their opponents’ goal rather than aimlessly weaving pretty patterns in midfield – I would watch the game more.

Nevertheless, I recall 1963, when Leicester headed the old First Division with five games to play. They picked up only one more point and finished fourth, nine points adrift of the league winners, Everton.

 

Gum unstuck

No, I don’t chew toothpaste to stop me smoking, as the last week’s column strangely suggested. I chew Nicorette gum, a reference written at some stage but somehow lost (probably by me) before it reached print.

Editor: The chief sub apologises for this mistake, which was hers

Peter Wilby was editor of the Independent on Sunday from 1995 to 1996 and of the New Statesman from 1998 to 2005. He writes the weekly First Thoughts column for the NS.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle