The Ethics of Immutability

Bitcoin MagazineThe Ethics of Immutability Bitcoin’s unalterable ledger is a technological mirror of the philosophical idea that our actions, once done, become part of the tapestry of history and of who we are: The concept of immutability calls us to an ethics of accountability as well. This post The Ethics of Immutability first appeared on Bitcoin Magazine and is written by Mark Stepheny.

Aug 30, 2025 - 03:10

Bitcoin Magazine

The Ethics of Immutability

A common refrain has emerged in the Bitcoin community: fix the money, fix the world. While there is every reason to be optimistic about Bitcoin’s impact on society it is not enough to rely on lines of code to fix our world. Rather, in this essay on the ethics of immutability, I argue that fixing oneself is the true revolution, and in turn, collectively, as actors in this global network, we are the revolution of change.

Bitcoin was designed to be decentralized, censorship-resistant, open source and unconfiscatable, qualities that set it apart from traditional banking and financial infrastructure. Bitcoin’s architecture means that no central authority can arbitrarily seize funds or block transactions on the network. The transparent, permissionless nature of its code allows anyone to participate without needing approval from intermediaries or gatekeepers. It empowers individuals to transact and store value beyond the reach of censorship, monetary debasement and financial repression by governments and banks.

These attributes have led many to view Bitcoin not just as a new form of money, but as an instrument of freedom in the digital age. In “On Revolution,” Hannah Arendt states

“the life of a free man needed the presence of others. Freedom itself needed therefore a place where people could come together.”

It is my hope that the coming together just might be a global, decentralized monetary network.

The framework and means by which we can serve as the instantiation of digital freedom has already been given to us — the actions of Satoshi Nakamoto, Bitcoin’s creator.

As Bitcoiners we often ask ourselves, “What does it mean to be a Bitcoiner?” Generally, responses include simply holding bitcoin, sending transactions, believing in the value of sound money, running a node or any combination thereof.

Of course, these are necessary but insufficient, I argue, to be a Bitcoiner. One is not a Christian simply because one owns a Bible. Beliefs, and more importantly, one’s actions are necessary to uphold the ethos of Bitcoin. The community has not given enough credence to the fact that Satoshi gave up exorbitant wealth and fame so that we could freely take part in this network. It is this legacy and what it means for the users of Bitcoin that I explore in this paper. We must carry on this spirit of Satoshi by respecting and promoting the freedom of others, if we are to truly fix the world.

The Immutability Legacy of Satoshi Nakamoto

By walking away, Satoshi Nakamoto embodied the principle that Bitcoin was meant to belong to its community, not to its creator or a central authority. Equally striking is Satoshi’s decision to remain anonymous. To this day, the true identity of Satoshi is unknown, and the creator’s forum posts and emails never revealed personal details. This anonymity was very much in line with the Cypherpunk ethos that influenced Bitcoin’s development, a culture that values privacy and letting ideas speak for themselves rather than relying on authority. Satoshi himself was explicit about avoiding any cult of personality. When a media frenzy in 2014 led to the mistaken “doxxing” of a Californian man (Dorian Nakamoto) as Bitcoin’s founder, the real Satoshi seemingly resurfaced online just to post the message, “I am not Dorian Nakamoto.” Beyond that clarification, the inventor never sought fame or credit.

One of the most powerful symbols of Satoshi Nakamoto’s legacy is the fact that he never cashed in his bitcoin holdings. It is estimated that Satoshi mined roughly 1 million BTC (bitcoin) in the early days of the network. Remarkably, none of those coins have ever been moved or spent — they remain sitting untouched on the blockchain. At today’s market value, that stash would make Satoshi one of the wealthiest individuals on the planet. Yet the creator chose to leave that fortune alone. We do not know for certain why Satoshi never spent his coins. But the effect of this abstention has been profound. By not profiting from his invention, Satoshi demonstrated integrity and belief in the project’s long-term vision. Almost like a relic or monument on the blockchain, those unspent coins have become a reminder of his contribution and prove that the founder did not seek personal enrichment.

In the Bitcoin community, this fact is often cited to underline the purity of Bitcoin’s origins. The monetary system Satoshi created was decentralized and fair, giving early adopters an opportunity by not allowing the creator to abuse any special advantage. Satoshi actively gave up certain freedoms (like the freedom to cash out riches or the freedom to bask in fame) for the sake of Bitcoin’s success and credibility. This personal sacrifice set a powerful ethical example and established many of the values the Bitcoin community still holds dear: decentralization, open participation, neutrality and the idea that principles matter more than individual gain.

Satoshi’s coins, sitting untouched on the ledger, are an immutable timestamp of those values, reminding us that the founder’s commitment to freedom was not just in words but in deeds. This legacy invites us to reflect on the kind of community Bitcoin was meant to foster, and it provides a real-world segue into broader philosophical questions about freedom and responsibility, which, as Bitcoiners, we must consider as the instantiation of Bitcoin’s embodiment of freedom.

Bitcoin and the Concept of Freedom

What do we mean by “freedom,” especially in a social context? Philosophers have grappled with this question for centuries. One particularly illuminating perspective comes from the 20th-century existentialist Simone de Beauvoir, whose work “The Ethics of Ambiguity” (1947) explores the nature of freedom and the ethical responsibilities it entails. Beauvoir’s insights can help us draw parallels between Bitcoin’s ethos and a broader philosophy of reciprocal freedom and autonomy.

A key idea in Beauvoir’s ethics is that freedom is a shared, interdependent condition. She rejects the notion that freedom is simply the ability for an isolated individual to do anything they please. Instead, true freedom is “a positive and constructive process” that inevitably involves other human beings. One person’s freedom is enhanced by the freedom of others, and curtailed when others are oppressed. I cannot be truly free, she argues, if I live in a world where others are enslaved or silenced, because I exist in a human world of relationships and my own possibilities are intertwined with those of my fellow human beings. The authors of “Resistance Money” proclaim this ethos in their words:

“Cypherpunk code empowers individuals. But, with money, writing code is not enough. For money is, as we’ve seen, a network good. Bitcoin isn’t DIY money – do it yourself. It is, DIT – do it together. Using bitcoin means joining users in supporting resistance money for those who need it, with or without permission or cooperation of authorities.”

This logic of reciprocity means that we each have a responsibility to strive for the freedom of all, not just our own personal freedom. Beauvoir famously writes that the freedom of others must be respected and they must be helped to free themselves — how one might be freed by the ability to use a censorship-resistant monetary network, for example. It is not enough to refrain from coercing others; an authentic ethics calls us to actively support and expand the freedom of those around us. This could mean educating those who lack knowledge, fighting against unjust political structures that oppress people or working to alleviate poverty and other conditions that limit an individual’s opportunities. Freedom, in Beauvoir’s conception, is inherently social and cooperative.

This philosophy resonates strongly with the ethos of open source, decentralized networks like Bitcoin. Bitcoin’s value proposition is not just that, “I individually control my money,” but also that everyone can participate as equals under the same rules. Contrast that structure with the status quo of Cantillon effects whose default is to embrace moral hazard.

The Bitcoin network becomes more secure and useful as more people use it (more nodes, more miners, more liquidity), which is an illustration of freedom being mutually reinforcing. Rather than viewing freedom as a zero-sum game, modern thinkers like Beauvoir see it as inherently social and mutually enhancing, an insight that can apply to a monetary network as well. A decentralized currency works precisely because it is open and accessible to all; my financial freedom is bolstered by others joining and expanding the network effects. As more users adopt bitcoin, it becomes harder for any one authority to censor transactions for anyone — network decentralization is a form of reciprocal empowerment for its users. This reflects Beauvoir’s point that a person’s freedom can only extend itself by means of the freedom of others.

True freedom is therefore reciprocal and we can see an analogue in Bitcoin’s philosophy: If a participant in the network (say a miner or node) tries to censor or cheat others, they undermine the very system that guarantees their own financial autonomy. Indeed, Bitcoin’s consensus rules make it so that acting to censor or double-spend will only harm the attacker — honest nodes will reject invalid blocks, and the attacker wastes resources. The network is structured to reward cooperation (following the rules) and make interference futile. While Beauvoir was talking about human rights and ethical relations, the parallel is that freedom to transact, like freedom of speech, works best when universally upheld. No one is truly “free” in a monetary sense if a central authority can freeze their account on a whim. Importantly, preventing others from transacting (for example, lobbying to censor certain addresses or users) would eventually jeopardize one’s own security and freedom on the network.

It is important to acknowledge my words have not been written in the years following WWII; that despite the current tumult, American life is not likely to see a full-scale kinetic war as we did in the past century.

We must then ask ourselves, what does revolution look like when there is no oppressor? And what does reciprocal freedom mean in 21st-century American life? While one could argue, like Arendt, that we live under an oligarchy, fiat as an economic system has no king or dictator to overthrow. A contemporary view of freedom warrants a dynamic approach to answering this question. Challenging oppression when there is no king is akin to technological creative destruction — a process not necessitating brute force but replacing the system from without.

American life is dominated by systems of oppression that tacitly affect our freedoms. It is futile to contrast the year 2025 to a century ago where a question of freedoms could more easily break down into simple positive and negative binaries. Rather, the restrictions to one’s freedoms in contemporary American life become more nebulous. Again, rendering questions such as: What freedoms are restricted when paid advertising affects our purchasing habits, social media controls the algorithms, processed foods affect our cognition, Citizens United lessens our influence in our democracy or for our current purposes when a financial and economic system decreases purchasing power and concentrates wealth by design?

We live at a time of tremendous abundance and security, so it is easy to slip into passive engagement with community and political life; it is easy to slip into the way of being of a serious man (Beauvoir’s archetype of a person who avoids the responsibility of reciprocal freedom by following strict values as if they were fixed truths making them prone to justifying harmful actions in the name of their “sacred” cause).

de Beauvoir’s also introduces a moral imperative: Solidarity in the pursuit of freedom. It’s not enough to avoid doing harm; we are called to get involved and work to change conditions that deny others their freedom. She observed that authentic ethics entails helping others expand their scope of action and choice. This could be read (in our context) as a call to support technologies or movements that empower people who have been excluded from traditional systems. Consider how Bitcoin has been used by dissidents, journalists or citizens in countries with capital controls and hyperinflation. Because Bitcoin is censorship-resistant and borderless, it allowed, for example, WikiLeaks to receive donations in 2010 when PayPal and banks (under government pressure) blocked funds. It has helped people in Venezuela or Zimbabwe bypass destructive monetary policies and hold savings in a currency that their rulers cannot debase.

During the Russian-Ukraine war in 2022, Bitcoin donations were sent directly to Ukraine when traditional channels were constrained, a demonstration of the network’s neutrality and availability. It has also provided a way for migrant workers and refugees to carry and send assets when the banking system shuts them out.

All these cases reflect individuals reclaiming freedom in the face of oppression or hardship, aided by a global community of Bitcoin users and developers who maintain the network. To draw a parallel to Beauvoir: Those who contribute to Bitcoin’s development or adoption in repressive environments are, in a sense, helping others to free themselves. They are engaging in a form of solidarity that aligns with the ethical vision Beauvoir puts forth — a “concrete commitment to the freedom of our fellow men,” as she described it, which means actively standing against structures that limit others’ autonomy. Viewing Bitcoin through Beauvoir’s existentialist lens highlights the idea of reciprocal freedom. Bitcoin works as a system of augmented freedom not because it lets an individual escape society, but because it creates a new kind of society, one built on voluntary participation, equal rules and mutual empowerment rather than top-down control. It exemplifies the principle that my financial freedom is inextricable from yours. It challenges the community to uphold not only their own rights, but the rights of others, keeping the network open and accessible. As Beauvoir insisted, freedom gains meaning only when we devote ourselves to defending and enlarging the freedom of all.

Beauvoir’s sentiment is echoed in José Ortega y Gasset’s, “The Revolt of the Masses,” who calls us to understand that

“every destiny is dramatic, tragic in its deepest meaning. Whoever has not felt the danger of our times palpitating under his hand, has not really penetrated to the vitals of destiny, he has merely pricked its surface.”

While Ortega y Gasset applies this sentiment to the perceived treachery of his mass man it is nonetheless a statement of considerable importance. Beauvoir asks us to will ourselves free, in order to free others. The possibility of doing so is only met when the will seeks an understanding of the destiny of others, including the mass man. We understand the ambiguity of our own nature and destiny but freedom lies in the taking-on of the ambiguity of others.

The uncertainty of our nature is further illuminated by Craig Warmke in his paper, “Bitcoin Behind the Veil,” where he examines Bitcoin through John Harsanyi’s “veil” analysis. Warmke asks the question: “If you could not choose, [and were born again], in which kind of world would you prefer to live: a world with bitcoin, like our own, or a world without bitcoin, one like ours but where bitcoin had never been invented?” In our world where over half of the population lives under an authoritarian regime your chances of Western abundance and freedom is the flip of a coin, so the logical answer to his question is, “yes,” I would prefer to live in a world with bitcoin.

Warmke’s argument is not simply a thought experiment, it is a call to action when we see the destiny of others, by mere chance, was not our own. We must then ask, what, if any, responsibility we, as Bitcoiners bear, to offset chance, and what does that mean for our lives — our immutability?

The Ethics of Immutability

One of Bitcoin’s defining technical features is the immutability of its blockchain ledger. Once a block of transactions is confirmed and added to the chain, it becomes effectively tamper-proof; the record is permanent. This idea of an unchangeable record of actions provides a rich metaphor for thinking about life, legacy and moral responsibility — a responsibility toward upholding and empowering the freedom of others. We might ask: If your life’s choices were encoded like transactions in an immutable ledger, would you be proud of the record? Are our actions, in a sense, etched in time as part of our legacy, and how does that influence the way we choose to live?

The notion of an “immutable essence” versus the possibility of a dynamic being has long been debated. Existentialist thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre argued that for human beings, “existence precedes essence.” By this, Sartre meant there is no predefined, unchanging soul or nature that determines what we are; rather, we continuously create ourselves through our choices and actions. We are, in Sartre’s words, “condemned to be free,” wholly responsible for shaping our identity and values in the absence of any fixed template given by God or nature. We define ourselves through our choices and actions. This emphasis on freedom and authenticity means that moral commitment is something we choose and enact, not something imposed by an immutable essence or fate. Every action contributes to the “ledger” of who we are. Sartre even suggested that in choosing for oneself, one should consider that they are, in a way, choosing an example for all humanity, a bit like every transaction you broadcast to the blockchain becomes part of a public history that others can see.

Now, contrast this with other philosophical or religious views that do posit an immutable core to the self. In Plato’s philosophy and in many spiritual traditions, there is the idea of a soul, something fundamentally stable and divine in a person that persists through change. Plato, for instance, considered the soul immortal and unchanging in its essence. Some religious perspectives hold that salvation or enlightenment is about realizing one’s eternal, unchanging true nature. In such views, moral improvement might be seen as uncovering or manifesting an already existing goodness. On the other hand, there are also views that stress transformation, the idea that one must become something different.

Finally, at the opposite extreme, philosophies like Buddhism and David Hume’s empiricism deny any fixed self at all: They argue that the self is an illusion, a series of fleeting states with no enduring essence. Buddhism teaches anātman, “no-soul” that clinging to the notion of an immutable identity is a source of suffering, and liberation comes from recognizing the impermanence of all components of the self. Why do these abstract views matter in our context? Because they frame an ethical question: How should we live and engage with the world around us? If you believe you have an immutable soul, perhaps you strive to keep it pure and untarnished — you might act in ways that “timestamp” only what you would want eternally associated with you. (Think of a virtuous person wanting to leave a legacy as pristine as Satoshi’s untouched coins on the blockchain).

If instead you believe that identity is something you create, then every choice is like mining a new block — an opportunity to add to the chain of your life in a meaningful way. And if you believe there is no permanent self, you might focus on the present consequences of actions rather than any lasting record, or you might find meaning in contributing to something larger (like how in Bitcoin, individual nodes come and go, but the ledger persists, similarly one might say individual lives are transient, but good deeds can have enduring effects beyond the self).