I have a dream,
that humanity has, for the first time in its history, entered into a covenant
not built on violence, not on deception, and not on inflation—
but on truth, on mathematics, on unbreakable scarcity.
I have a dream,
that fathers and mothers can pass on to their children a form of money
that cannot be debased by corrupt hands of the state,
but preserved in its purity by time itself.
I have a dream,
that Bitcoin is the first collective monetary covenant—
a covenant that needs no signature,
for participation itself is the seal,
and every validation across the network renews the promise:
No one can cheat you.
I have a dream,
that generations yet unborn
will be able to trade and to build in freedom,
because today we shoulder the responsibility
to break the chains of debt, manipulation, and unsound money.
I have a dream,
that workers will no longer see the fruits of their labor
stolen into the hands of the few,
but that the energy of their toil
shall be preserved across time in satoshis—
incorruptible, indestructible, indivisible.
I have a dream,
that Bitcoin is not merely a protocol,
but a beacon,
a witness to the fact
that humanity is capable of giving itself fair rules—
and keeping those rules alive
without rulers, without weapons, without coercion.
I have a dream,
that one day children will ask:
“Why did you endure unjust money for so long?”
And that we may answer with pride:
“Because we discovered Bitcoin—
and we left you a world
where your tomorrow is not burdened
by the mistakes of yesterday.”
Finally. For weeks, I've been watching the square in front of the ECB, always hoping they'd give themselves away: those people with the orange Bitcoin logos, the stickers, and the orange safety vests. Bitcoiners. I hate them and their strange internet money, they want to cut us off – us, the ones responsible for real monetary policy. They pass by the ECB "quite by chance" and act like they're just interested passersby, but I know better.
The climate activist has already been sitting there – for three long weeks – in silence, in front of the glass facade of the European Central Bank. No banner, no speech. Just himself and a whiteboard. Then a bicycle comes speeding up, a few empty bottles in the basket. But there's something stuck to the frame: the Bitcoin logo. Two people, two symbols, one common place. I know immediately: That's enough.
Legal basis
According to Article 8 paragraph 1 of the Basic Law (GG) :
“All Germans have the right to assemble peacefully and without weapons without registration or permission.”
According to the Federal Constitutional Court, an assembly is a gathering of several people for the purpose of collective expression . Two are sufficient.
And the Assembly Act (VersG) states in Section 14 Paragraph 1:
“Anyone wishing to hold a public gathering in the open air must notify the competent authority at least 48 hours before the announcement.”
These two have not registered anything. This alone constitutes a violation.
Intervention options
Section 15 para. 1 VersG allows:
“The competent authority may prohibit the assembly or make it subject to certain conditions if, according to the circumstances cognizable at the time the order is issued, public safety or order would be directly endangered if the assembly were to take place.”
That's exactly what happens. The police arrive, confront the two, and ask for their registration – nothing. So: they're banned from the ECB forecourt. Anyone who refuses risks being dispersed.
And then the bombshell: According to Section 29 Paragraph 1 No. 1 of the Insurance Act, anyone who
“holds a public gathering in the open air without the required registration.”
This carries a fine. In practice, it amounts to 150 euros.
Triumph of the Fiat Bro
The Bitcoiners look perplexed, almost indignant. "We were just standing there – peacefully, having a pleasant conversation." But that's enough. It may look harmless to them – but to me, it's a clear case. A whiteboard, a bicycle with a logo: all evidence of the shared message.
I lean back while the officers take their IDs. Two Bitcoiners, one protest—and ultimately a ban from the area plus a fine. For me, a small but delicious victory in the service of order.