Why Silk Road basically sells insurance and financial products, not drugs

The world's biggest online drug marketplace is more like the world's biggest service company

Forbes reporter Andy Greenberg secured the interview of the year this week, with Dread Pirate Roberts, the pseudonymous owner/CEO/"center of trust" of Silk Road, "the Web’s busiest bazaar for heroin, methamphetamines, crack, cocaine, LSD, ecstasy and enough strains of marijuana to put an Amsterdam coffee shop to shame". The interview is an insight into the political motivations behind the site, as well as the levels of paranoia you need to have to run a multimillion dollar drug empire online.

But for this blog, perhaps the most insightful quote didn't come from Roberts (who takes his pseudonym from cult 80s film The Princess Bride) at all. Instead, it's this take:

“Silk Road doesn’t really sell drugs. It sells insurance and financial products,” says Carnegie Mellon computer engineering professor Nicolas Christin. “It doesn’t really matter whether you’re selling T-shirts or cocaine. The business model is to commoditize security.”

Silk Road is a marketplace; it's far closer to the eBay of drugs than the Amazon of them. And so its main purpose is merely connecting buyers and sellers.

But even more than with eBay, there are major trust issues involved in doing so. No-one wants to actually share any information which could be used to track them down (although the buyer has to give the seller at least somewhere to post too), and if you do get scammed, you've got even less chance of using the law to get your money back, on account of what you buy being really illegal.

Some of the Silk Road's services specifically get around this problem: so, for example, the site offers escrow services to buyers, which only release their cash to the seller once they get the goods. And, famously, all purchases are made using Bitcoin, the anonymous peer-to-peer currency which increased in value by almost 20 times over the first few months of this year.

That brought its own problems, which Silk Road also helps alleviate. Dealers can price their goods in dollars, even as they get paid in Bitcoin, and Silk Road will ensure that the fluctuations don't hit them too hard. In effect, the company is running a small FX trading division, although with only one currency pair being traded, they won't make much money from it.

But as competition in the sector grows – a rival site, Atlantis, has launched and is running direct campaigns against Silk Road – the lawlessness may start being something which no amount of innovation can solve. Already, there are murmurs that an outage at Silk Road was engineered by the newcomer. Roberts estimates the value of Silk Road at "10 figures, maybe 11"; he's got a fight ahead to keep it to himself.

Drugs! Photograph: Getty Images

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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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times