I find myself comfortably seated at a conference in Bedford. The atmosphere is warm and inviting as I sip my coffee, feeling secure with my bank card tucked in my pocket. The thought of returning home, enjoying dinner, or sending money to a loved one doesn’t worry me in the slightest.
This comfort isn’t merely a stroke of luck; it’s a privilege. It became abundantly clear at the CheatCode conference, hosted at the Bedford Corn Exchange on Friday (April 11), allegedly the largest Bitcoin event worldwide.
The speakers took the stage not as investors or sales representatives. They were not the typical blockchain enthusiasts eager to promote the next big cryptocurrency. They weren’t here to persuade the audience to embrace the ‘orange pill’.
Instead, they were activists harnessing Bitcoin in ways seldom reported. These individuals had endured unimaginable losses, fleeing their homes to safeguard their lives, only to discover a lifeline in digital currency.
Dissidents and campaigners who had faced imprisonment, exile, and threats merely for voicing dissent against tyrannical regimes.
People whose former trusted banks turned against them, denying them the right to manage their finances, receive support, or obtain essential supplies. They weren’t selling anything beyond the harsh realities they faced.
Carine Kanimba spoke with a steady voice laced with sorrow about her father, Paul Rusesabagina, whose heroic actions inspired the film Hotel Rwanda by saving over 1,000 lives during the Tutsi genocide. Years later, he was kidnapped by the Rwandan government, vanished, and imprisoned.
Carine herself has encountered intimidation and monitoring. “One of our members had his entire identity erased,” she revealed. “Bank accounts were closed, and properties seized as if he never existed. Yet he still had a family to support and a movement to keep alive.”
At that moment, Bitcoin transcended an abstract idea; it represented survival.
Leopoldo López, the former Mayor of Caracas, delivered a poignant speech. He has a history of rallying people to fight for their freedoms, yet his words conveyed deep sorrow—a shared sentiment among the panelists.
In 2014, López led peaceful protests against the Venezuelan government, with tens of thousands joining him, resulting in seven years of imprisonment for him. “For the past 20 years, I haven’t had a bank account in Venezuela,” he stated.
“In Venezuela, we’ve faced inflation rates of 20,000%. A bag of cash is needed just to buy a sandwich. If anyone attempts to send help, the regime punishes both the sender and the recipient.
“The regime weaponizes the banking system, shutting you down before you have a chance to express yourself. Bitcoin is the sole means by which we can assist without further endangering lives.”
Bitcoin has sustained his movement. “It’s not just a theory; it’s a genuine lifesaving tool. We’ve assisted tens of thousands this way. It’s our only option.”
Jhanisse Vaca-Daza, an environmental and human rights activist from Bolivia, shared stark details of daily survival. “People can’t withdraw money from their accounts. We are running out of food and fuel as the government intercepts our aid donations.
I’ve even had to smuggle U.S. dollars under my clothing to deliver humanitarian assistance into the country.”
While her voice remained composed, my heart raced at the thought. I recalled images of individuals from Wall Street stealthily transporting money for personal gain.
Yet, Vaca-Daza wasn’t breaking the law for profit; she was risking everything to save lives.
The potential consequences of her capture were too dreadful to contemplate.
Then there was Anna Chekhovich, the financial director of Alexei Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation, who spoke calmly about the pivotal role Bitcoin plays in their survival.
“We began utilizing it in 2016 when we lost trust in the banking system. Accounts were frozen, donations blocked, and supporters intimidated. Bitcoin has allowed us to persist,” she explained.
“We have no choice,” she added, “because Putin is constantly monitoring us.”
Fadi Elsalameen, a Palestinian analyst from the Middle East, recounted his experience of being deemed persona non grata. “Even my lawyers were hesitant to accept wire transfers from me. That’s how pervasive the fear is.”
Palestinians face financial oppression, lacking their central banking system. Everything is tied to Israeli financial mechanisms. “I understood that we’ll never achieve political liberation until we secure financial independence. Bitcoin illuminated that path for me.”
Elsalameen is a senior fellow at the Bitcoin Policy Institute, which focuses on leveraging decentralized technologies like Bitcoin to foster freedoms, individual rights, and principled economic policies.
Her work in Gaza and the West Bank underscores Bitcoin’s implications at the policy level where traditional finance fails.
Afghan tech entrepreneur Roya Mahboob described how she utilized Bitcoin to compensate Afghan girls prior to the Taliban’s return. When they did come back and the banking system collapsed, Bitcoin became vital for their sustenance and education.
“These girls couldn’t open bank accounts without a male guardian. Bitcoin made everything possible.”
Antonia Roupell from Save the Children USA may not be an exile or an activist, but she recognizes Bitcoin’s significance even in global humanitarian efforts. “When we dispatch aid through traditional means, a significant portion gets lost to fees, red tape, or worse.”
“Utilizing Bitcoin enables us to send support directly. It’s more cost-effective, quicker, and it preserves dignity.”
Among the attendees was Alex Gladstein, chief strategy officer of the Human Rights Foundation. While the campaigners represented the heart of this narrative, Alex served as the connective thread among them.
He was there not only to explain the technology but to amplify the experiences of individuals engaging with it on the frontlines.
“We refer to it as the Financial Freedom program,” he explained. “The tagline is straightforward: money that dictators can’t impede.”
The Human Rights Foundation is a nonprofit dedicated to preserving civil liberties globally, focusing on those living under authoritarian regimes. They offer legal aid, mental health resources, fellowships, training, and technical assistance for activists.
Increasingly, this encompasses education on secure use of encryption, decentralized tools, and Bitcoin.
Alex elaborated on how regimes worldwide have adapted. Previously, they imprisoned dissenters; now they effectively deny them access to financial resources. Accounts are frozen, donations seized, and currencies collapse.
“Bitcoin thrives amidst this adversity. It’s censorship-resistant. It doesn’t require permission. No one can de-platform you from Bitcoin.”
He likened Bitcoin’s present moment to that of the early internet. “In the 90s, many people were skeptical of email. They didn’t trust it at first. Yet some of us recognized its potential. Bitcoin is similarly in its early stages, but it’s poised for transformation.”
He discussed how the currency has lost 75% of its value in Nigeria in a mere two years. “Every one of the 200 million citizens is poorer because of it. Bitcoin offers protection; it’s a means of saving, sending funds, and surviving.”
Bitcoin may also be creating ripple effects close to home. Asylum seekers in Bedford, perhaps our neighbors or the parents of students in our schools, might be leveraging Bitcoin to assist their families.
They aim to sustain movements in their home nations until they can return, but for now, to aid parents, siblings, and friends in acquiring food and medicine.
They’re not speculating; they’re ensuring that their loved ones and fellow citizens can survive.
Bitcoin is often misunderstood. It’s dismissed as merely a tool for criminals or ridiculed as a trend among tech enthusiasts. However, the individuals I encountered at the Bedford conference weren’t peddling anything; they were advocates for their survival and for others.
In a world filled with barriers, Bitcoin offers pathways. In the hands of these courageous individuals, it symbolizes more than currency; it embodies hope.
