The Case for Freedom

San Francisco, 2021.

James Sullivan had become someone he hadn’t expected to become. An advocate.

Not a promoter. Not a salesman. Not someone who uncritically pushed something for personal gain. But someone who, after careful verification, believed something was important enough to support actively. Someone willing to make the case for it. Defend it. Explain why it mattered.

He’d spent thirty years following the cypherpunk movement. Watching from the sidelines. Learning. Verifying. Moving slowly from skeptic to believer. First with encryption in the 1990s. Then with Bitcoin in 2011. Now with Zcash in 2020.

Each step had required the same process. Skeptical investigation. Technical verification. Understanding not just how something worked but why it mattered. Who it helped. What it enabled.

He’d verified Zcash’s technology. The cryptography was sound. The zero-knowledge proofs worked. The privacy was real, cryptographic, guaranteed by mathematics.

He’d understood Zcash’s human impact. Met Elena. Read Leyla’s list. Followed Marcus’s journalism. Seen what privacy meant for people who needed it. Not as abstraction but as survival. As safety. As freedom.

Now he faced the harder part. Making the case to people who didn’t understand. Who hadn’t verified the technology. Who hadn’t met the people whose lives depended on privacy. Who heard “private money” and thought “criminal activity.”

The objections were predictable. James had heard them countless times. In online forums. In conversations with colleagues. In media articles. In government statements. Always the same arguments. Always the same misconceptions.

He needed to address them. Not dismissively. Not condescendingly. But firmly. Clearly. With evidence and logic and honesty.

Because the future mattered. The choice between surveillance money and private money mattered. And people needed to understand what they were choosing between.

The Oldest Objection

The argument came up every time James talked about Zcash. Online. In person. With friends, colleagues, strangers. Always the same phrasing, like a script everyone had memorized:

“Privacy enables crime. Criminals will use Zcash. Money laundering. Tax evasion. Terrorism. Drug trafficking. If we allow private money, we enable bad actors. We can’t let that happen.”

The argument sounded reasonable. Felt intuitive. Privacy did enable crime. that was true. Criminals did value privacy. also true. So banning privacy to stop crime seemed logical. Obvious. Necessary.

But the argument failed on every level. Not because the concerns were invalid. Because the logic was wrong. Because the facts contradicted it. Because history showed it led to authoritarianism, not security.

James had thought carefully about how to respond to this objection. Not defensively. Not dismissively. Firmly but reasonably. With evidence. With logic. With honesty about the tradeoffs.

First fact: Criminals already have privacy. Lots of it.

Cash is completely private. Untraceable. Anonymous. No digital record. No blockchain. No surveillance. Used for centuries. Every criminal in history before 2009 used cash. Many still do.

Yet somehow civilization continued. Commerce functioned. Laws were enforced. Crime existed but didn’t dominate. Private money and functional society coexisted for thousands of years.

The idea that financial privacy would suddenly enable unprecedented crime ignored all of history. Cash had always been private. Society had always managed.

More importantly: the largest financial crimes in history didn’t use private cryptocurrency. They used banks.

HSBC laundered $881 billion for Mexican drug cartels between 2006 and 2010. The bank pleaded guilty. Paid a fine. No executives went to prison. They used traditional banking, not cryptocurrency.

The Panama Papers exposed 11.5 million documents detailing how wealthy individuals and corporations hid trillions of dollars through offshore accounts and shell companies. Traditional financial system. Lawyers. Accountants. Banks. Not crypto.

The 1MDB scandal involved Malaysian government officials stealing $4.5 billion through complex financial structures involving major international banks. Goldman Sachs paid $3 billion in fines. Traditional finance. Not crypto.

Terrorists used hawala networks, cash, diamonds, art, and normal bank accounts for decades before cryptocurrency existed. The 9/11 attacks were funded through wire transfers and bank accounts in Florida. Traditional finance.

Criminals had sophisticated privacy tools. Offshore banking. Shell companies. Trusts. Foundations. Lawyers who knew how to structure transactions. Accountants who knew how to hide money. Political connections. Corruption.

The wealthy and powerful had privacy. Always had. Privacy tools for crime already existed and were widely used. Successfully. With far more money involved than cryptocurrency had ever seen.

What didn’t exist: privacy for ordinary people. For activists. For journalists. For abuse survivors. For anyone living under surveillance or authoritarian control. For people who needed privacy for legitimate purposes.

Banning private cryptocurrency didn’t stop criminals. They had alternatives. It stopped regular people from protecting themselves.

Second fact: The argument has always been used to expand government power. Always.

In the 1990s, the argument was: “Encryption enables crime. Criminals will use it to hide communications. We need backdoors. We need government access. We need to control encryption.”

The government wanted mandatory key escrow. Wanted the Clipper Chip. Wanted to ensure that every encrypted message could be decrypted by authorities with a warrant.

Cypherpunks fought back. Argued encryption was essential for digital security. For privacy. For freedom. For protecting ordinary people from criminals and authoritarian governments alike.

The government claimed encryption would enable child pornography, terrorism, drug trafficking, organized crime. The same arguments. The same fear. The same demand for control.

Cypherpunks won the crypto wars. Strong encryption became standard. Available to everyone. No backdoors. No government key escrow.

And what happened? Society didn’t collapse. Crime didn’t explode. Terrorism continued but was fought through other means. Strong encryption became the foundation of digital security. Banking. Healthcare. Communications. Commerce. Everything relied on it.

Banning encryption would have been catastrophic. Would have made everyone less safe. Would have enabled surveillance without preventing crime. criminals would have used encryption anyway, just obtained it from non-US sources.

The “privacy enables crime” argument had been wrong about encryption. It was wrong about financial privacy too.

Same pattern. Same logic. Same outcome if successful: ordinary people lose privacy, criminals adapt and continue, and governments gain surveillance powers that inevitably get abused.

Third fact: The argument assumed privacy and accountability were incompatible. They weren’t.

James pulled up his laptop. Showed what Zcash actually offered. Not just privacy. Privacy with selective disclosure.

Zcash transactions were private by default. Shielded. Encrypted. Nobody could see sender, receiver, or amount. But users could choose to reveal transaction details to specific parties when needed.

Viewing keys let you share read-only access to your shielded addresses. Someone with your viewing key could see your balance and transactions. but couldn’t spend your funds. You controlled who saw what. You chose when to disclose.

For example: A nonprofit received donations in Zcash. Privately. Donors protected. But when tax time came, the nonprofit could give their viewing key to an auditor. The auditor could verify all donations, confirm proper use of funds, ensure compliance. without donors’ identities becoming public.

Or: A business paid an employee in Zcash. Privately. But for tax purposes, the employee could prove their income to tax authorities using payment disclosure. The specific transaction could be revealed to the tax authority without making it public to the world.

This was better than the current system.

With banks, your financial privacy depended on institutions. Banks saw everything. Governments could access records through subpoenas. Data breaches exposed information. You had no control.

With Bitcoin, everything was public. Everyone saw everything. Forever. No privacy at all.

With Zcash, you controlled disclosure. Privacy by default. Transparency when chosen. Selective. Voluntary. You decided who saw what.

This wasn’t a backdoor. Wasn’t a government master key. Wasn’t a way for authorities to decrypt everything. It was voluntary disclosure by the user. You chose to reveal. Nobody could force it. But you could prove things when needed.

You could prove you paid taxes without revealing income. Prove you’re authorized to enter without revealing identity. Prove you’re qualified without revealing personal details.

Privacy and accountability weren’t opposites. They could coexist.

You could comply with legitimate regulations without surrendering privacy to the entire world. Could prove you followed the law without exposing every transaction. Could maintain boundaries while meeting obligations.

Fourth fact: Banning privacy was both futile and tyrannical.

James had studied what happened when governments tried to ban privacy tools. They always failed. The tools spread anyway. Just through different channels. Often making them less safe, less accountable, more difficult to regulate.

China banned Bitcoin mining. Bitcoin adjusted and continued. Hash rate moved to other countries. The network kept functioning.

Russia restricted Bitcoin transactions. Bitcoin still worked in Russia. People used VPNs. Used peer-to-peer exchanges. Found ways around restrictions.

India banned cryptocurrency entirely in 2018. The ban failed. Was overturned by courts. Cryptocurrency usage in India continued and eventually flourished.

Governments couldn’t stop decentralized systems. Couldn’t prevent people from using them. Could make them harder to use. Could push them underground. But couldn’t eliminate them.

Banning Zcash wouldn’t work. The network was decentralized. Code was open source. Anyone could run a node. Anyone could transact. No central point to shut down. No company to raid. No servers to seize.

The ban would fail technologically. But it would succeed in something else: preventing ordinary people from using privacy tools while criminals used them anyway.

Because criminals didn’t care about bans. They already broke laws. Adding “using privacy cryptocurrency” to their list of crimes didn’t change their behavior. They’d use it anyway.

But law-abiding people who needed privacy: activists, journalists, abuse survivors, people in authoritarian countries, would be prevented from protecting themselves. They followed laws. A ban would stop them. Only them. Not criminals.

This was the outcome every time: bans on privacy tools prevented legitimate use while failing to prevent illegitimate use.

More fundamentally, banning privacy was authoritarian. A government that said “you cannot have financial privacy” was a government that claimed total surveillance as right. That rejected the concept of boundaries. That denied that individuals deserved autonomy.

That was authoritarianism. Regardless of whether it claimed good intentions. Regardless of whether it claimed to protect security. Total surveillance was tyranny.

The pattern was clear:

Privacy didn’t enable crime. criminals already had privacy through other means. The argument was historically used to expand surveillance, not stop crime. Privacy and accountability could coexist through selective disclosure. And banning privacy was both futile and tyrannical.

James had come to a conclusion: the “privacy enables crime” argument wasn’t really about stopping crime. It was about control. About maintaining surveillance. About ensuring every financial action was visible to authorities.

The argument sounded like protecting society. It actually meant empowering authoritarianism.

Because here’s what history showed: every surveillance tool, every privacy invasion, every power granted to stop “criminals.” all of it eventually got used against ordinary people. Against protesters. Against activists. Against journalists. Against anyone who challenged power.

The FBI used anti-terrorism tools to spy on civil rights activists. Used them against environmental groups. Against peace activists. Against anyone engaged in political organizing.

The NSA’s mass surveillance, justified for national security, monitored everyone. Collected data on millions of Americans who’d never committed crimes. Never threatened anyone. Just lived their lives.

China’s surveillance system, built to “stop crime” and “maintain stability,” became comprehensive social control. Track everyone. Monitor everyone. Punish dissent. Reward compliance. The crime-fighting justification became tool of oppression.

The pattern repeated endlessly across history and geography. Surveillance powers were always justified as protecting society. Always ended up controlling society.

Privacy wasn’t obstacle to justice. It was protection from injustice. And banning privacy because criminals might use it was like banning cars because bank robbers use getaway vehicles.

James thought about Elena. About Leyla. About Marcus. About Sarah Wei’s donors who’d been arrested for supporting journalism. They weren’t criminals. They were people who needed privacy for safety, for autonomy, for freedom. Denying them privacy to maybe stop some criminals meant sacrificing the innocent to theoretically catch the guilty.

That wasn’t justice. It was authoritarianism.

Privacy by Default

One more distinction mattered. The difference between optional privacy and default privacy.

Bitcoin let anyone use privacy tools. Mixers. CoinJoin. Lightning Network. Various techniques existed. But they were optional. You had to choose to use them. Choose to protect yourself.

This seemed reasonable. Privacy for those who wanted it. Transparency for those who didn’t. Best of both worlds.

But optional privacy failed. James had learned this through research. Through testing. Through seeing what happened in practice.

When privacy is optional, choosing it marks you as suspicious. You become the person who refused the security scan at the airport. Who demanded a lawyer before talking to police. Who encrypted their hard drive and used Tor.

You might have perfectly legitimate reasons. You might just value privacy as principle. But the choice itself was revealing. The system treated you differently. Flagged you as high-risk. Scrutinized you more carefully.

With Bitcoin, using a mixer marked your coins as “tainted.” Exchanges flagged them. Merchants rejected them. Regulators investigated them. You’d chosen privacy, and the system punished you for it.

The mathematics were stark. If 95% of users transacted normally and 5% used privacy tools, those 5% stood out. They’d revealed themselves through the choice to hide. Revealed that they had something to hide. even if they didn’t. Even if they just valued privacy.

For privacy to work, it had to be default. Universal. If everyone had privacy, no one was suspicious for having it. If privacy was normal, choosing it meant nothing.

This was Zcash’s approach. Shielded transactions were the default in modern wallets like Zashi. You had to actively choose transparency if you wanted it. Privacy was normal. Expected. The baseline.

When everyone used shielded transactions, using them meant nothing. Revealed nothing. Marked nobody as suspicious. Privacy protected everyone because privacy was universal.

This also created network effects. The more people used shielded Zcash, the better the privacy became for everyone. Each shielded transaction added to the anonymity set. the pool of possible origins for any transaction. With millions of shielded transactions, tracing any individual transaction became impossible even theoretically.

Bitcoin’s optional privacy meant a small anonymity set. A few thousand people using CoinJoin. Easy to track. Easy to flag. Easy to analyze.

Zcash’s default privacy meant a large anonymity set. Everyone using shielded transactions. Impossible to track. Nothing to flag. Nothing to analyze.

Default privacy worked. Optional privacy didn’t. The difference determined whether privacy was real or theatrical.

Built to Last

James had one more concern to address. One more question that people asked about Zcash: Could it sustain itself long-term?

Bitcoin survived because it was simple. No company. No formal leadership. No ongoing development funding. The protocol rarely changed. It just worked. Miners mined. Nodes validated. The system persisted through pure minimalism.

Zcash was more complex. Privacy features required ongoing development. Cryptographic advances. Upgrades like Sprout to Sapling to Orchard. Project Tachyon for future scalability. How did this work without centralized control? How was it funded? Could it last?

James researched Zcash’s structure. Found it was more organized than Bitcoin but still decentralized. Multiple independent organizations. Community governance. Transparent funding.

Three main organizations supported development:

Electric Coin Company (ECC) - The original team that built Zcash. They continued developing the protocol. Led by Zooko Wilcox. Focused on core protocol improvements. Research. Implementation. They’d built Sprout, Sapling, Orchard. Were working on future scalability.

Zcash Foundation - An independent nonprofit formed in 2017. Focused on decentralization, education, community support. They maintained alternative node software. Funded research. Supported ecosystem development. Provided checks and balances against ECC.

Zcash Community Grants (ZCG) - An elected committee that funded developers, projects, and initiatives outside of ECC and the Foundation. Community-driven. Independent. Focused on ecosystem growth.

No single organization controlled Zcash. No single leader. No central authority. Decisions required consensus. Multiple implementations existed. Multiple teams worked independently.

This was more complex than Bitcoin’s pure minimalism but still decentralized. Multiple independent organizations checked each other. Community oversight. Open governance.

How were they funded?

Through the block reward. When miners created new blocks, they received newly created ZEC. just like Bitcoin. But Zcash allocated a portion to development funding. This was protocol-defined. Written into the code. Distributed automatically.

Twenty percent of the block reward went to ecosystem development. Of that twenty percent: 8% went to Zcash Community Grants (the elected committee), and 12% went to various ecosystem participants including ECC, the Foundation, and other development teams. The exact allocation was determined by community consensus and changed over time through governance.

This funding mechanism was transparent. Auditable. Built into the protocol. Not controlled by any single party. And it was time-limited. The development fund had specific expiration dates built in. It required community consensus to continue. It wasn’t permanent taxation. It was temporary funding that the community had to actively renew.

James compared this to Bitcoin’s model. Bitcoin chose minimalism. No formal funding. Relied entirely on volunteers and corporate sponsors. Development happened through donation of time and resources.

Both approaches had merits. Bitcoin’s minimalism made it stable. Resistant to change. No ongoing funding meant no funding disputes. No governance meant no governance disputes. Simple. Robust.

But Bitcoin’s minimalism also meant slow development. Difficulty adapting. Years-long debates about minor improvements. Stagnation in some areas. The price of stability was rigidity.

Zcash chose adaptability. Ongoing development. Protocol-funded progress. Multiple independent teams. The ability to evolve. To improve privacy. To increase scalability. To respond to new cryptanalytic techniques.

For privacy, evolution mattered. Cryptanalysis improved constantly. Governments developed new surveillance tools. The privacy technology needed to stay ahead. Needed ongoing research. Needed implementation of improvements. Needed evolution.

Bitcoin could afford to stay mostly unchanged. Transparency doesn’t degrade. The protocol that worked in 2009 still worked in 2025. Simple rules. Simple implementation. Stability was feature.

Privacy couldn’t afford stagnation. Zero-knowledge proofs advanced. New techniques emerged. Old techniques were optimized. Staying competitive required ongoing work. The development funding enabled this.

James saw the wisdom in both approaches. Bitcoin optimized for stability. Zcash optimized for adaptability. Both were sustainable. Just different sustainability strategies.

The key question: Would the community continue funding development? Would the system maintain itself long-term?

James looked at the evidence. Multiple funding rounds had been approved by the community. Each time, broad consensus. Each time, support for continued development. The community understood that privacy technology needed ongoing work. That standing still meant falling behind.

But there was something else. Something more fundamental than funding. Something that made Zcash’s sustainability about more than just money.

The Halo breakthrough. Sean Bowe’s work on recursive zero-knowledge proofs. This wasn’t just an improvement. It was a foundation for the future.

Halo eliminated the trusted setup. Made Zcash truly trustless. But it did more than that. It enabled recursive proof composition: a technique that allowed nearly unlimited scalability.

With recursive proofs, you could verify thousands or millions of transactions with minimal computational cost. Could compress enormous amounts of computation into single proofs. Could scale a private blockchain to billions of users without requiring more resources from nodes.

This was the path forward. Not just incremental improvement. Fundamental architectural advance. The kind of breakthrough that changed what was possible.

Project Tachyon, the proposed upgrade being developed, would implement recursive proofs at scale. Would enable private transactions for everyone on Earth. Would make Zcash not just sustainable but scalable beyond anything currently possible.

James read Sean Bowe’s technical writings on this. The vision was clear: Zcash could become infrastructure for global private digital commerce. Not a niche cryptocurrency for privacy enthusiasts. A full-scale alternative to both transparent cryptocurrencies and government surveillance money.

The sustainability wasn’t just about funding development. It was about having a technical path forward that solved fundamental problems. That made Zcash not just viable but visionary.

Bitcoin had proved decentralized money worked. Zcash was proving private decentralized money worked. And the roadmap showed it could scale.

James concluded: Zcash was built to last. Not through Bitcoin’s minimalism, but through structured, community-funded, technically visionary development. Different path. Same destination: long-term sustainability.

The question wasn’t whether Zcash could survive. It was whether people would choose to use it. Whether adoption would grow. Whether the vision would spread.

Technology didn’t matter if nobody used it. The best tools in the world meant nothing if they sat unused.

That was the final question. The adoption question. The question that determined whether the cypherpunk vision succeeded or failed.

Why Criminals Already Have Privacy

James kept returning to this point because it was crucial. Because people misunderstood it. Because the entire “privacy enables crime” argument rested on a false premise.

The premise: Currently, criminals don’t have privacy. Financial transactions are monitored. Crimes are caught through financial surveillance. If we give everyone privacy, we lose this crime-fighting capability.

The reality: Criminals already have extensive privacy. Always have. The surveillance system catches some crimes, mostly small-scale crimes by unsophisticated criminals. Sophisticated criminals evade it easily.

James made a list of privacy tools criminals currently used:

Cash. Completely private. Untraceable. Anonymous. Criminals had used cash for thousands of years. Still did. No digital record. No blockchain. No trail. Just physical bills changing hands.

Shell companies. Legal entities with hidden ownership. Registered in privacy-friendly jurisdictions. Delaware. Nevada. British Virgin Islands. Panama. Layers of corporate structures making true ownership invisible.

Offshore accounts. Banks in jurisdictions with strong secrecy laws. Switzerland. Cayman Islands. Luxembourg. Singapore. Where asking about account holders was illegal. Where disclosure was refused as principle.

Trusts and foundations. Legal structures that separated ownership from control. Made beneficial owners invisible. Created layers of protection that were difficult to penetrate.

Real estate. Property bought through LLCs and trusts. Ownership hidden. Transactions private. No public record of who actually owned what.

Art and collectibles. High-value items that transferred without public record. Purchases made through intermediaries. Ownership private.

Hawala networks. Traditional value transfer systems in South Asia and Middle East. No digital records. No bank involvement. Just trust between participants. Impossible to trace.

Trade-based money laundering. Manipulating invoices for goods and services to move money across borders. Over-invoicing exports. Under-invoicing imports. Looks legitimate. Hard to detect.

Cryptocurrency mixers and privacy coins. Yes, these existed. Yes, criminals used them. But they were just one tool among many. And not the most important one.

The point: Criminals had privacy. Lots of it. Through multiple methods. Legal and illegal. Traditional and modern. Simple and sophisticated.

Financial surveillance caught unsophisticated criminals. People who used their real names. Their real bank accounts. Their real addresses. People who didn’t know how to hide.

But sophisticated criminals. organized crime, corrupt politicians, major money launderers, terrorists with resources. they evaded surveillance easily. Used the tools listed above. Hired lawyers and accountants who knew how to structure transactions. Exploited legal loopholes. Used privacy-friendly jurisdictions.

The surveillance system was theater. Caught the stupid and poor. Missed the smart and wealthy.

Banning Zcash wouldn’t change this. Criminals who wanted financial privacy already had it through other means. Zcash was just one more tool. Less important than cash. Less useful than shell companies. Less established than offshore banking.

What banning Zcash would do: Prevent ordinary people from having the same privacy that wealthy criminals already had. Create a two-tier system where the powerful had privacy and the powerless didn’t.

This was the actual choice. Not “privacy for criminals or security for everyone.” But “privacy for everyone or privacy only for criminals and the wealthy.”

James believed the answer was clear. Privacy should be available to everyone. Not just people with lawyers and offshore accounts. Not just criminals willing to break laws. Everyone.

Zcash democratized privacy. Made it accessible. Made it available to activists and journalists and abuse survivors and ordinary people who just valued financial autonomy.

That was the right outcome. The just outcome. The outcome that served freedom rather than control.

The Choice Ahead

James Sullivan had spent thirty years following the cypherpunk movement. From skeptic to believer to advocate.

In 1993, strong encryption seemed impossible. Then cryptographers won the crypto wars. In 2008, decentralized money seemed impossible. Then Bitcoin proved it worked. In 2016, private decentralized money seemed impossible. Then Zcash proved it worked.

Each time, the skeptics were wrong. Each time, the cypherpunks were right. Each time, the impossible became real.

James had verified the technology. Met the people it helped. Understood what was at stake. Bitcoin freed money from government control. Zcash freed it from surveillance. Both were necessary. Neither was sufficient alone. Together, they completed the vision.

The tools existed. The technology worked. Everything was ready.

But technology didn’t change the world by existing. It changed the world through adoption. Through people choosing to use it. Through network effects reaching critical mass.

The future wasn’t determined. It was being chosen now. This decade. These years.

Governments were building CBDCs. Surveillance was becoming normalized. AI was making analysis more powerful. Social credit systems were expanding. The infrastructure of control was maturing.

But the infrastructure of freedom existed too. Bitcoin for censorship resistance. Zcash for privacy. Ready. Available. Waiting to be chosen.

Two paths diverged. One led to surveillance money. Programmable, trackable, controllable. CBDCs with expiration dates. Financial behavior monitoring. Money as control mechanism.

The other led to freedom money. Private, censorship-resistant, self-custodied. Cryptographic protection. Mathematical guarantees. Money as liberation.

Which path humanity took wasn’t predetermined. Wasn’t inevitable. It was being decided by millions of individual choices about what tools to use, what systems to support, what future to build.

James had made his choice. Now he watched to see what others would choose.

Because this wasn’t about technology anymore. It was about whether enough people valued privacy to use it. Whether enough people understood surveillance to resist it. Whether enough people wanted freedom to fight for it.

The revolution was complete. The tools were built. The vision was real.

Now came the hard part. The part where ideas met reality. Where technology met adoption. Where millions of individual decisions would determine whether the future meant freedom or control.

The tools existed. The choice was ours.

And the time to choose was now.