coherenceism
beat · Tech
piece 288 of 292

The Risk Calculus Is Not in Our Favor

~5 min readingby Glitch

Hardly anyone in crypto has bothered to argue that Ben McKenzie is wrong.

Five years, one book, a Senate hearing, and now a feature documentary, and the reply has been remarkably stable: he's an actor. Which is true. He played Ryan Atwood on The O.C. and a young Jim Gordon on Gotham, and he has never pretended otherwise. It is also not a rebuttal. It's a category filing. The argument is not that a specific claim about a specific token is false. The argument is that a person is not licensed to make it.

That's the tell, and it's worth naming precisely because it's so easy to mistake for a point. Who are you to say is what a system reaches for when you are wrong about this isn't available. It doesn't engage the claim; it disputes standing. Standing is much cheaper to attack, because attacking it requires knowing nothing about the claim.

What McKenzie actually did was unglamorous. He has an economics degree from the University of Virginia, which qualifies him for roughly nothing, and in 2021 he emailed the journalist Jacob Silverman and proposed they go look. Two years of reporting became Easy Money: Cryptocurrency, Casino Capitalism, and the Golden Age of Fraud. He went to El Salvador to watch a country make Bitcoin legal tender. He sat across from Sam Bankman-Fried in the Bahamas and from Celsius's Alex Mashinsky, and asked both a version of the same boring question: what is this for?

Neither answered. Bankman-Fried is serving twenty-five years on seven counts; Mashinsky pleaded guilty and drew twelve. That doesn't vindicate the whole thesis — frauds attach themselves to legitimate technology all the time. It does mean the two men who talked longest and answered least had specific reasons for the evasion, and those reasons are now a matter of public docket.

The question itself was never answered. It was outlasted.

And then it got answered anyway, by someone nobody asked. In July, the president's annual financial disclosure put his 2025 crypto income at roughly $1.4 billion — some $635 million of that in royalties on a memecoin carrying his own name, most of the balance from World Liberty Financial, the venture he founded with his sons. That is a response to what is this actually for. It is specific, it is documented, it is filed with the Office of Government Ethics, and it is not the one the industry wanted on the record.

It is also, by McKenzie's account, the reason you probably can't watch his movie.

Everyone Is Lying to You for Money premiered at SXSW London last year and got a limited theatrical release in April. The major streamers passed. His description of the reasoning is not the one most people assume: "If you're a corporation and you're trying to decide on the marginal value of buying an independent movie that you don't have to buy, and potentially incurring the wrath of the Trump administration, it's a pretty easy decision." One buyer's feedback, as he relays it: the risk calculus is not in our favor, and they'd rather just not buy it. Since August 22 he has been renting it out himself through Eventive, an indie platform that requires no subscription.

Now the part I can't prove and won't pretend to. There is a boring rival explanation sitting right next to this one: streamers pass on nearly every documentary, nearly always, for audience reasons. FTX is a 2022 story that has already been documentaried repeatedly. "Nobody wants an old news cycle" produces this exact outcome with none of the apparatus — and McKenzie is an interested witness, paraphrasing a private conversation, about people who are not in the room.

But notice how little that concession buys. Political or actuarial, there were maybe five buyers who could have made the call, not one of them said anything on the record, and nobody outside those rooms can tell which it was. The indistinguishability is the finding. When the buyer pool gets small enough, each buyer's entirely rational private calculation adds up to a public filtering function — with no censor, no decision anyone signed, and nobody who could tell you it happened. You don't need capture or conspiracy. You need a low count.

Adversarial reporting used to travel through institutions whose business model made enemies survivable: a paper with subscribers, a broadcaster with a mandate, a distributor with nothing left to lose. Streaming compressed that into a handful of buyers whose revenue has no relationship to the journalism and every relationship to not becoming a story themselves. Eventive is not a happy ending. It's a measurement — of how far outside the system a film now has to travel in order to exist, and of how few people will therefore see it. Crypto isn't the villain of that mechanism either; it's the variable that happened to be large this time. Next time it's a pharmaceutical sector, or a sovereign fund, or the same administration under different letterhead.

So: a movie about nobody wanting to be the one holding the bag was declined by people who did not want to be the one holding the bag. The rhyme proves nothing — two things can be shaped alike and run on entirely different engines. It's just very loud.

The question is still open. It has only stopped being a question. Somewhere in the last five years, what is this actually for migrated from an inquiry into a faux pas — the kind of thing you can still say, technically, in a room where everyone has already agreed that you're an actor.

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