The loudest controversy in Bitcoin this quarter is not about a code change, but about the silence surrounding it. When Samson Mow, the former Blockstream CSO and now CEO of JAN3, tweeted that the uproar over BIP-110 could have been avoided, the crypto community erupted in speculation. But the real story is not what was said—it is what was not. The BIP-110 proposal, which remains a ghost in the official Bitcoin Improvement Proposals repository, has triggered a backlash against decisions and actions within the Bitcoin Core ecosystem. Yet, no one has seen the full technical specification. The code compiles, but does it heal? Or is the silence itself the loudest indicator of systemic rot?
As a finance-trained educator who has spent years translating the moral architecture of trust into layman's terms, I have learned that the most dangerous bugs are not in the syntax—they are in the social layer. BIP-110, if it exists in any meaningful form, is not about a technical flaw. It is about a governance failure. And the fact that we are debating this without concrete data is exactly the problem.
Context: The Ghost Protocol
Bitcoin Improvement Proposals (BIPs) are the lifeblood of protocol evolution. From BIP 148 (UASF) to BIP 341 (Taproot), each proposal carries a weight of consensus, code review, and community buy-in. But BIP-110 is different. It is not listed in the main BIP repository as a finalized or even draft proposal. This raises a critical question: is it a new, unnumbered draft, or a misremembered reference? The lack of transparency is itself a decision. The Bitcoin Core ecosystem, which prides itself on open-source rigor, has allowed a cloud of ambiguity to form around a proposal that allegedly caused significant backlash.
Samson Mow, a vocal Bitcoin maximalist known for his laser-eyed optimism, stated that the uproar could have been avoided. His phrasing implies that the controversy was not inevitable—it was a result of poor communication, rushed decisions, or a failure to align stakeholders. He did not say the proposal was bad; he said the process was. This is a subtle but profound distinction. The backlash is not against the technical merits of BIP-110 (which remain unknown), but against the decisions and actions of the people driving it. In a decentralized ecosystem, trust is not encrypted; it is woven. And when the weaving is done in darkness, the fabric frays.
Core: The Ethics of Governance
In my 2024 work with the Australian Securities Investment Commission on ethical governance guidelines for tokenized assets, I learned that technical audits are only half the battle. The other half is process audits. Who was consulted? How were trade-offs communicated? What mechanisms existed for dissent? The BIP-110 controversy, as observed through the lens of Samson Mow's critique, reveals a systemic gap: the Bitcoin Core development process, while technically robust, lacks a formalized emotional and social contract.
Let me be clear: I am not advocating for bureaucracy. But I am advocating for what I call 'inclusive structural analysis.' The fact that a proposal can cause an uproar without its technical details being publicly scrutinized is a symptom of a deeper issue—the concentration of decision-making power in a small group of core developers. This is not a new problem. The SegWit2x debacle, the Block Size War, and the recent Ordinals controversy all stem from the same root: a governance model that relies on 'rough consensus' without a formal mechanism for voicing dissent.
Based on my experience mentoring 30 women in blockchain through the 'Women of the Chain' program, I have seen how silence breeds resentment. When voices are not heard, they either scream or leave. The Bitcoin community cannot afford to lose either. The backlash against BIP-110, whatever its technical details, is a scream. And the silence from the core developers is the loudest indicator of systemic rot.
Contrarian: The Pragmatic Test
Now, the contrarian angle: perhaps the lack of transparency is intentional. Perhaps BIP-110 is a trial balloon, a proposal floated in private to gauge reaction before formal submission. In that case, the uproar is a feature, not a bug. It allows the community to self-correct before code is written. But this argument falls apart when we consider the power dynamics. Samson Mow is not a random critic; he is a former insider who helped build the infrastructure. If he says the uproar could have been avoided, he is implying that the core team ignored basic communication protocols.
Moreover, the 'trial balloon' theory does not excuse the lack of technical documentation. In a mature ecosystem, proposals should be public by default, with private discussions reserved for security-sensitive issues. BIP-110, if it involves a consensus change, should have a draft available for review. The fact that it does not is a red flag. It suggests that the controversy is not about the proposal itself, but about the power to make decisions without accountability.
Feminine wisdom asks not 'What is the code?', but 'Who wrote the rules, and who broke them?' The answer here is uncomfortable. The rules of Bitcoin governance are unwritten, and they are broken whenever a proposal is advanced without community consent. The BIP-110 uproar is a classic case of what I call 'pragmatic idealism synthesis': the ideal of open-source transparency collides with the pragmatism of closed-door decision-making. The result is a mess that could have been avoided with a simple email list.
Takeaway: The Vision Forward
What does this mean for Bitcoin's future? The problem is not BIP-110. It is the pattern. Every cycle, we see a new controversy that exposes the same fault line: the gap between the code and the community. As we enter a bull market, the temptation to 'move fast and break things' will only grow. But Bitcoin is not a startup. It is a settlement layer for the global economy. The cost of a governance failure is not just a fork; it is the erosion of trust that underpins the entire system.
My advice to the Bitcoin Core team is simple: publish the BIP-110 draft, even if it is incomplete. Let the community see the technical rationale. Create a dedicated governance channel for contentious proposals. And most importantly, listen to the silence. It is telling you that something is broken.
Trust is not encrypted; it is woven. And the weave of Bitcoin's governance must be strong enough to hold the weight of its ambition. The code compiles, but does it heal? Only if we allow the community to be part of the healing process. The crash of a proposal is a teacher, not a funeral. Let us learn from the noise before it becomes silence.