BITCOIN IN POWER: RESERVES AND SCANDALS
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History is shifting. For years, Bitcoin was portrayed as a threat to states. It was accused of financing terrorism, fueling black markets, and enabling money laundering. It was repeatedly said that governments would never allow a free currency to flourish, that they would eventually ban it, destroy it. And yet, in 2025, it is these same governments that are beginning to hoard. The enemy becomes a tool. Dissent becomes a strategic reserve. The paradox is delicious: the weapon of resistance is now in the coffers of those it was meant to defeat.
Look at the United States. In March 2025, Donald Trump signed an executive order to create a Bitcoin Strategic Reserve, managed by the Treasury. Yes, you read that right. Just as there is a strategic oil reserve to ward off energy crises, there is now a strategic Bitcoin reserve to ward off financial crises. Officially, this is to ensure stability and support the dollar in a world where Bitcoin is becoming increasingly important. Unofficially, it's an implicit recognition: Bitcoin is too important to ignore. Even the most powerful state in the world can't afford to stay on the sidelines.
And this isn't an isolated case. Texas, true to its tradition of rebellion, passed a law in May 2025 creating its own strategic Bitcoin reserve. In June, the governor signed the bill, formalizing the first Bitcoin reserve in a federal state. The symbolism is enormous: a political entity asserting its monetary autonomy from federal power. Bitcoin is becoming a tool of local sovereignty, a lever of internal resistance. It's a silent revolution, but a terribly powerful one.
These movements are not trivial. They mark a historic shift: the idea that Bitcoin is not just the business of individuals or isolated cypherpunks, but that it is becoming a matter of national strategy. The same people who wanted to ban it find themselves forced to hoard, not out of ideological conviction, but out of a simple instinct for geopolitical survival. Because if one country doesn't do it, another will. And in the global economic war, missing the Bitcoin train could be a fatal mistake.
But this new game isn't without scandals. As soon as states get close to Bitcoin, the demons of corruption resurface. Take the Czech Republic, for example: in early 2025, the Minister of Justice was forced to resign after a monumental scandal. The man had accepted a massive BTC donation from a convicted felon with ties to darknet markets. 468 BTC were seized and then "gifted" to the government, without any serious verification. For five months, the country was rocked by this affair, revealing the extent to which Bitcoin could become an instrument of political compromise.
This contrast is fascinating. On the one hand, states are officially hoarding to strengthen their sovereignty. On the other, scandals are erupting, proving that power remains vulnerable to temptation. Bitcoin reveals the contradictions of governments: it is both a weapon of stability and a mirror of their corruption. It is the test of truth.
The maximalist might smile cynically. Because all this confirms a profound intuition: Bitcoin doesn't change human nature. It reveals it. The states that accumulate it don't suddenly become virtuous. They remain the same, obsessed with control, with domination. But by integrating Bitcoin into their arsenal, they unwittingly validate the maximalist thesis: this currency is indispensable. No matter their intentions, no matter their manipulations, the protocol remains incorruptible. You can't falsify it, you can't print it. You can only buy it, sell it, or lose it.
Therein lies the beauty of the situation. States, by accumulating, become players in a game they don't control. They must abide by the same rules as you, an ordinary individual. They must secure their keys, manage their addresses, count their satoshis. They cannot create Bitcoin by decree. For once, they are not above the law. They are on an equal footing with you. And that is revolutionary.
Of course, we must remain clear-headed. This state accumulation is not without danger. If a large portion of Bitcoin were to be concentrated in the hands of governments, there would be a risk of economic capture. Not of the protocol, it is incorruptible, but of liquidity, of narrative, of usage. States could attempt to transform Bitcoin into an “official” asset, instrumentalized, sanitized. A reserve Bitcoin, held in vaults, never spent, never released. This would be a betrayal of the original spirit. But even this scenario would not destroy the protocol. Because as long as a single individual holds a single satoshi in a personal key, the spirit of Bitcoin remains alive.
And let's not forget that governments are in competition. One hoards, the other will want to do better. One tries to manipulate, the other may choose transparency to stand out. It is this rivalry that guarantees that Bitcoin cannot be fully captured. Too many players, too many divergent interests, too much at stake. The protocol benefits from this cacophony. It feeds on human rivalries.
Ultimately, what we're seeing in 2025 is an inevitable step. After individual adoption, after institutional adoption, comes state adoption. Everyone enters in their own way: individuals by conviction, institutions by opportunism, states by strategy. But they all end up in the same place: facing a protocol they can't break. This is Bitcoin's inevitable trajectory: attracting everything around it, forcing integration through simple economic logic.
So, how should we react as a maximalist? Should we be happy to see governments hoarding? Or should we be wary of them? The answer is simple: neither. Because, ultimately, it makes no difference to you. Whether the state hoards or not, Bitcoin continues. Whether the Czech minister is corrupt or not, Bitcoin continues. Whether Texas decides to hoard thousands of BTC or Harvard buys some via an ETF, Bitcoin continues. That's its strength: it doesn't depend on morality, it doesn't depend on institutions, it doesn't depend on states. It's indifferent.
What matters is what you do. Do you have your keys? Have you understood why you're accumulating? Have you accepted that this sovereignty comes with responsibility? This is what separates the maximalist from the rest of the world. Others believe Bitcoin belongs to them because they have a line in an account or an ETF ticket. You know that Bitcoin belongs only to the one who holds their keys.
So yes, let the states be agitated. Let them create strategic reserves, fight among themselves, corrupt each other, betray each other. Let them play their part. Because at the end of the day, they control nothing. They are only supporting actors in a play written fifteen years ago by an unknown person named Satoshi Nakamoto. And this play has only one possible ending: individual sovereignty triumphs.
In 2025, governments will discover what cypherpunks already knew in 1992. Cryptography liberates. Bitcoin is unstoppable. And whether it's in the Treasury's vaults or in an individual's pocket, it always retains its essence: an incorruptible, free, and resilient currency. Governments can use it, but they cannot domesticate it.
The real lesson of this story is that Bitcoin won. Not because it's recognized, not because it's stored by governments, but because it forced even its enemies to submit. Strategic reserves are admissions of weakness. Political scandals are evidence of the failure of the old world. And while all this plays out, you, maximalist, continue on your way, block by block, key by key. You don't need a decree, you don't need a strategic reserve. You are already sovereign.
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