Alexander Hamilton would have been fascinated by cryptocurrency.
For approximately twenty minutes.
The first ten minutes would have gone extremely well. Hamilton loved finance. He loved innovation. He loved markets, credit systems, public debt, banking, speculation, economic development, and any conversation that involved the words "capital formation." Had he been born two centuries later, he would almost certainly have spent an uncomfortable amount of time explaining bond yields at dinner parties.
The second ten minutes would have consisted largely of screaming.
Because while Hamilton admired finance, he also believed finance should accomplish something.
This distinction turns out to matter.
A great deal.
Hamilton's America was desperately short of capital. The new republic had emerged from the Revolution burdened by debt, lacking strong financial institutions, and possessing only the vaguest idea how a modern economy was supposed to function. Hamilton's great project was creating systems that could transform chaos into confidence. A national bank. Public credit. Assumption of state debts. Stable currency. Predictable markets.
His goal was never wealth for its own sake.
His goal was making the economy work.
This is why he would find cryptocurrency so bewildering.
Imagine attempting to explain Bitcoin to him.
"It is a decentralized digital currency."
Interesting.
"It exists independently of governments."
Intriguing.
"It relies upon cryptographic verification."
Impressive.
"It is mined by computers."
Curious.
"It can fluctuate twenty percent in value because a billionaire posted a meme."
At this point Hamilton would probably remove his glasses.
Not because he wore glasses.
Because the conversation would require a dramatic gesture.
One of the most misunderstood things about Hamilton is that he was not merely a financier. He was a nation-builder. Every financial proposal he advanced had a larger purpose. He wanted public credit because public credit would strengthen the nation. He wanted stable institutions because stable institutions encouraged investment. He wanted investors to trust the government because trust encouraged growth.
Finance, in Hamilton's mind, was infrastructure.
Modern crypto culture often treats finance as entertainment.
This would concern him.
A lot.
Hamilton once wrote:
"A national debt, if it is not excessive, will be to us a national blessing."
This quote is often misunderstood, usually by people attempting to avoid reading the rest of the sentence. Hamilton did not love debt. He loved productive debt. Debt used to build institutions, infrastructure, and economic growth.
In other words, Hamilton believed money should eventually connect to reality.
Crypto occasionally appears to regard reality as an optional feature.
To be fair, Hamilton would admire certain aspects of the technology. He spent years trying to create trust in a financial system where trust barely existed. The idea of a distributed ledger recording transactions across a network would have struck him as remarkable. The cryptographic innovation alone might have held his attention for weeks.
The problem begins when the technology meets humanity.
This is where crypto becomes deeply American.
Not Hamiltonian American.
American American.
The America of gold rushes, land bubbles, speculative manias, miracle cures, and men named Chad attempting to explain wealth creation from rented Lamborghinis.
Hamilton knew this country.
He spent much of his life trying to save it from itself.
One suspects he would recognize familiar patterns almost immediately.
The white papers.
The evangelists.
The promises of inevitable transformation.
The certainty.
Especially the certainty.
Every speculative bubble in history has produced people who insist this time is different.
History has rarely rewarded their confidence.
Hamilton understood markets because he understood human nature. He knew greed was real. He knew speculation was inevitable. He knew people would always chase easy fortunes. The challenge was building institutions strong enough to survive them.
This is why he would likely find modern crypto culture more interesting than cryptocurrency itself.
The technology is complicated.
The behavior is familiar.
Indeed, Hamilton might occasionally find himself sympathizing with one of his oldest enemies.
Thomas Jefferson hated speculative finance. He distrusted banks. He distrusted financial elites. He distrusted almost every economic idea Hamilton ever proposed.
Normally, Hamilton would rather swallow a musket ball than admit Jefferson had a point.
Crypto might test that commitment.
There is something profoundly Jeffersonian about watching thousands of people purchase digital assets whose value appears to depend largely on whether strangers on the internet continue believing in them.
Hamilton would hate that sentence.
Jefferson would frame it.
Perhaps the funniest aspect of cryptocurrency is the language.
Every financial revolution develops its own vocabulary. Hamilton understood this. The early republic had securities, bonds, notes, and certificates. The terminology signaled seriousness. Investors wanted stability.
Crypto, meanwhile, produced phrases that sound as though they emerged from a fever dream.
Meme coins.
Whales.
Rug pulls.
Diamond hands.
To the moon.
One can almost imagine Hamilton spending several hours studying these terms before quietly concluding that civilization had suffered a setback.
The greatest irony, however, is that Hamilton might actually support a government-issued digital currency.
This realization would horrify nearly everyone involved.
Hamilton loved centralized authority. He loved institutions. He loved systems that inspired confidence. He spent his entire career arguing that trust in government was essential to economic prosperity.
The average cryptocurrency enthusiast has spent the last fifteen years arguing precisely the opposite.
Somewhere in the afterlife, Hamilton is proposing a National Digital Bank while crypto influencers are threatening to move to international waters.
Neither side is enjoying the conversation.
Still, it would be unfair to dismiss cryptocurrency entirely. Hamilton certainly would not. He admired innovation too much. He understood that new technologies often appear strange before they become useful. Every major financial development attracts skeptics. Every new institution begins as an experiment.
What would interest Hamilton is not whether crypto succeeds.
It is what problem it solves.
This was always his question.
How does it strengthen the economy?
How does it create stability?
How does it encourage investment?
How does it support commerce?
How does it build the nation?
And if the answer is merely "the number went up," Hamilton would become increasingly difficult to be around.
By the end of the conversation, I suspect he would arrive at a surprisingly balanced conclusion.
The technology is impressive.
The speculation is familiar.
The evangelists are exhausting.
And any financial system whose mascot appears to be a cartoon dog deserves at least a little scrutiny.
Then again, Hamilton once convinced an entire country to trust paper money.
Perhaps he would be less surprised than we imagine.
Still, one suspects he would leave crypto with the same observation he applied to most political and economic debates.
The problem is rarely the system.
The problem is what people do with it.
And if history teaches us anything, it is that people can be trusted to do something deeply ridiculous.
— John Handcock