
WHO ARE WE, WE BITCOINERS?
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Who exactly is a bitcoiner, and what drives a portion of the population to embark on this strange adventure that seems to oscillate between an act of faith, a rational choice, a survival instinct, and a quest for emancipation? The question seems simple, yet it has consistently eluded any rigid definition since 2009. We talk about a protocol, a network, a digital currency, but deep down, behind these cold, technical words, there are faces, trajectories, and diverse motivations that make up a human mosaic. The bitcoiner of 2009 and the one of 2025 are not the same person, they do not live in the same context, but something common persists, an invisible line that connects those who have reached out to this block of data that has become a symbol of resistance and sovereignty. This is the line we will follow, as if we were trying to draw the robot portrait of the satoshi stacker, not by seeking the absolute truth but by drawing the contours of a community that has never stopped redefining itself.
In the beginning, there was 2009, the year when everything was still a laboratory game, an experiment circulating in the margins of the Internet, within forums frequented by a few geeks, cryptographers, cypherpunks, or those curious about free computing. The bitcoiner of that time was a rarity. He had no clear business model, he wasn't expecting to get rich quickly, there wasn't even a market to sell his bitcoins. He mined with his desktop computer out of curiosity or a spirit of experimentation. He didn't yet know that this thing would become so widespread. This bitcoiner was more like an alchemist, mixing mathematical ingredients in the hope of seeing a spark appear. Many wouldn't stay, but a few would keep their private keys and, without knowing it, become legends. This first archetype of the bitcoiner is neither an investor nor an activist, he is a pioneer in the purest sense, the one who walks alone in an unknown land without knowing if there really is an oasis at the end.
Then came the years when Bitcoin began to circulate, timidly, in marginal spaces, the famous pizzas of 2010, the first discussion forums where users exchanged fractions of BTC for services or simple proof of trust. The bitcoiner of this period was often driven by a dual feeling: on the one hand, fascination with a technology that works without a central bank, on the other, a growing distrust of financial institutions, especially after the 2008 crisis. They were often young adults, computer scientists, libertarians, but also already a few idealists who saw Bitcoin as a reinvention of money. Their profile was heterogeneous, but their common language was distrust. They no longer believed in the promise of the banking system; they wanted something else. We could say that the first DNA of the bitcoiner, the one that would be transmitted despite the mutations, was the desire to regain control of their money and therefore their freedom.
Over the years, Bitcoin gradually emerged from the margins. The media began to talk about it, first as a curiosity, then as a threat, and finally as a bubble. With each cycle of rise and fall, newcomers arrived. The Bitcoiner of 2013 was no longer just the passionate computer scientist; he was also the opportunistic investor, the student buying a few fractions on a still-unstable platform, the speculator dreaming of multiplying his stake. This is where the first major divergence comes into play: Bitcoin attracts as much those who want a new world as those who simply want to get rich. But even the latter, by staying, often end up absorbing a little of the underlying philosophy. Those who join for the profit may stay for the idea. The network is a strange machine that gradually converts its users, as if prolonged exposure to the protocol eventually transformed their worldview. The Bitcoiner is therefore also someone who is converted in spite of themselves, moving from the status of curious investor to that of pragmatic believer.
In 2017, during the first major media cycle, the word “hodler” became emblematic. Bitcoiners were then defined by their ability not to panic. It was no longer just about buying; it was about holding on, about asserting patience in the face of volatility that frightened others. Bitcoiners became a figure of psychological resistance. Their identity was refined: they were the ones who endured, the ones who refused to sell, the ones who saw beyond the next chart. The language also changed; we spoke of “stacking sats,” of “diamond hands,” of entering a new era. Bitcoiners were now a collective figure, visible on Twitter and YouTube, embodied by influencers, educators, and popularizers. But behind the media façade, the logic remained the same: staying the course when everything else faltered. Patience became a cardinal virtue.
Arriving in 2025, the Bitcoiner has many faces. We find the early adopter who never sold, became rich despite himself, and often discreet. We find the militant maximalist who has made the orange flag his weapon of ideological warfare. We find the institutional investor who, driven by the fear of missing the boat, piles up BTC via an ETF. We find the father who simply wanted to put something solid aside for his children. We find the political activist in countries where inflation destroys everything and for whom Bitcoin is not a speculation but a lifeline. We find the teenager who discovers TikTok and thinks that perhaps this Bitcoin is more serious than the rest of the meme coins. We find the engineer who believes above all in the genius of the protocol. We even find those who were initially hostile and who end up giving in, like ex-smokers who have become the most virulent promoters of sobriety. The Bitcoiner of 2025 is therefore not a single profile but a constellation.
So, what unites us despite everything, beyond categories? First, there's the conviction that Bitcoin is more than just a financial asset. Even those who buy it solely to get rich end up, if they stay, understanding that they're holding a tool of sovereignty in their hands. Then there's the shared experience of volatility, of that character-building roller coaster. Every Bitcoiner has experienced at least one dizzying fall and had to decide whether to hold on or let go. Those who stay know what that means. Finally, there's the common language, those inside jokes, those memes, that shared culture that creates a global tribe. We may be separated by continents, cultures, religions, but when we talk about satoshis, halving, private keys, we speak the same language. Bitcoin is a grammar that unites us.
The bitcoiner is also a walking paradox. He is individualistic but part of a community. He distrusts everything but believes in a code he has often never read. He rejects authority but repeats the rules engraved in the protocol like a mantra. He criticizes banks but checks the price in dollars every day. He claims to need no one but spends his evenings debating on X or Telegram. The identikit portrait of the bitcoiner is therefore riddled with contradictions, but it is precisely these contradictions that make him human. This is not a homogeneous sect; it is a network of individuals connected by faith in the same infrastructure. And perhaps this is what makes it strong: the diversity of profiles and the convergence of objectives.
For the neophyte, entering this world is often disconcerting. They discover codes, an internal history, mythical figures like Satoshi, Hal Finney, and the cypherpunks. They discover endless debates on block sizes, forks, and ETFs. But above all, they discover that behind the facade of numbers and curves lies a deeper quest: that of autonomy. The bitcoiner is not defined by their profession, age, or nationality. They are defined by an action: withdrawing their bitcoins from a platform and putting them in their own wallet. This action encapsulates their entire identity. This is the moment when you truly become a bitcoiner, not because you bought, but because you took responsibility for keeping your own keys. It doesn't matter whether you have 0.01 or 100; that's the point.
What has evolved since 2009 is the external perception. Once marginal, the bitcoiner was seen as a fanatic, then as a criminal, then as a speculator, and today as an economic actor who can no longer be ignored. But internally, what has remained is the spirit of resistance. Each cycle, each regulation, each media attack reinforces this identity. Being a bitcoiner means taking on the role of a dissident against the fiat system. Even if some are content to see it as an investment, they are unwittingly participating in this larger movement. Because each satoshi staked is a silent vote against monetary debasement. Each private key stored is an affirmation that trust cannot be delegated. This is how the portrait of the bitcoiner emerges: a blend of individuality and collective, a sum of diverse experiences united by a common logic of peaceful resistance.
The Bitcoiner of the future won't be much different. Motivations will change again, new generations will enter, some will see Bitcoin as a retirement asset, others as a weapon against inflation, and still others as a simple, practical tool for transferring value. But at its core, the same thing will remain: the idea that in a world where everything is shaky, there is a protocol that doesn't lie. Being a Bitcoiner means choosing to believe in it, not naively, but by betting on the strength of mathematics and community. It's not a religion, but it's not a simple technology either. It's an identity in flux, a scattered but coherent tribe. The composite portrait is blurred, but this blur is its richness. We are multiple, but we speak the same language. And perhaps that, deep down, is what it means to be a Bitcoiner in 2025.
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