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Hannes Grassegger of Das Magazin reports from the Blockchain Summit on Necker Island and discovers how the global economy is being overturned by men in flip flops. A young woman waved from a red pier. The breeze pressed her short jumpsuit against her body. She waved with her right hand, while her left held her sunhat in place. The captain brought the speedboat about, the motor sputtered, and I jumped off. The air was that perfect temperature, somewhere in the low 80s, where you stop sensing your body and feel as though you are melting into the world. The crystal clear water of the Caribbean was just a few refreshing degrees cooler. After a hour journey, I had finally reached my destination: an island that for ten years has been the permanent residence of British billionaire Sir Richard Branson. Kezzia led me to a golf cart parked in the sand. In one interview, Branson laughingly told of a new housekeeper on the island who wanted to institute a rule barring romantic relationships between employees and visitors. On Necker, there is no line between business and private life, at least for employees. For moments when Branson himself does not wish to be disturbed, he purchased the neighboring Mosquito Island. The occasion of my trip was a gathering of two dozen of the entrepreneurs and radical anarcho-capitalists who make up the upper echelons of the bitcoin digital currency movement. The event took birth at a private evening on Necker Island, when the organizers of a kite surf event called MaiTai had asked Branson over a drink if he would be up for bringing together all the leading minds in bitcoin—on his island. What exactly this was all about was unclear to me, but it seemed they were getting together to plan a coup. Only a select few dozen people received an invitation to the Necker Island summit. Originally, the group included a single woman. Following some concerned remarks on the internet, the organizers invited some more female guests. All had to undertake a strenuous journey, as the island lies on the easternmost edge of the British Virgin Islands, two hours east of Jamaica by plane. The entry fee alone was several thousand dollars per day. I had already met a few of the participants on the way here. Standing at a kiosk on the beach waiting for a ferry, wearing jeans and a green t-shirt, was Michael Zeldin, 64, a prominent anti-money-laundering expert from the United States, familiar from his many appearances on CNN. Next to him, dressed in swim trunks and holding a Carib beer, was Brock Pierce. While living in Spain, he built up an online-gaming empire by mining and selling virtual currencies and weapons in computer games, thereby becoming one of the most important early digital currency entrepreneurs. He told me over a drink that, as founder and managing partner of his own venture capital firm, he is currently an investor in 34 different companies. The golf cart trundled just a few meters over a narrow, stone-lined sand track and stopped in front of a two-story wooden house. From the second story I heard the murmur of guests at lunch. The ground floor was a kind of tropical pub, open on all sides. A large flatscreen played a tennis match. Reggae bubbled out from hidden speakers. Presumably this was one of the lemurs that Branson had brought over from Madagascar to save from extinction. The lemur stared at me for a moment, then turned back to its drink. Branson evidently had two things on his mind when establishing his island: sex and drinks. Next to the house is a shimmering green infinity pool that looks out on an endless Caribbean horizon. Necker was also once the occasional refuge of Princess Diana. A handwritten letter to Branson testifies to her love of the place. Branson has occasionally used the island to stage ambitious meetings, such as when he brought together politicians and entrepreneurs, like Tony Blair and Larry Page, to save the world from climate change. As part of a proviso by the local government, Branson was required to build a resort here shortly after he bought it, in at the age of We live in an age obsessed with progress, comparable to the end of the 19th century, when new technologies such as the railroad and the telephone were changing everything and generating previously undreamt-of riches. Our age, like that one, has seen an explosion in the number of the super-rich. There are currently around 1, billionaires, as measured in dollars. In the past few years, their fortunes have increased so massively that they have begun wondering what to do with all the money. At the same time, there is a valley near San Francisco full of technology entrepreneurs who need money—lots of money—for their business ventures. The goal of these entrepreneurs is to rebuild existing industries with new technology, monopolize the market, and watch the profits roll in. The larger the target industry, the better. Winter is coming to the Valley soon, and it might be the first since the bubble burst first in This bubble bursting might not be as tough as the last one, most people in the tech industry hope, but who could say for sure. Nevertheless, when people congregated on the island, there was a feeling that new territories were needed for chasing unicorns—the startups that remake entire industries with multi-billion valuations and big payoffs for venture capitalists. It is just such a project that Richard Branson has in mind. From the rooftop hot tub, I walked past a few terraces to reach a hall with a ceiling high enough to accommodate full-size palm trees. A disco ball hung from the ceiling. Such people do not meet just for fun, but perhaps also for fun. Branson officially relocated to Necker in for health reasons, he has said. By developing a complicated network of BVI companies, Branson pays few taxes in his native land. Many English children have heard of Necker Island. It is a dream island that represents the idea that an individual can beat the state. To moderate the summit, the organizers booked one of the most renowned writers on finance technology, Wall Street Journal columnist Michael J. The blockchain, Casey explains in the book, is a register, a vast bank-book, a digital ledger, that lists every individual transfer of bitcoin. Thus, the blockchain allows every bitcoin user to take on the functions of a bank. But this is just incidental. The blockchain not only makes digital currency impossible to duplicate: In principle, Casey prophesied, the technology could even replace companies, law firms, and agencies whose main job is to manage assets. Lately, the Bitcoin community has been torn asunder by a debate over the future of the blockchain, and whether it can continue to grow as quickly and cheaply under its current design. But this was not a topic of discussion at the conference: the weather was more blue-sky. Under a sun canopy on the beach, I encountered a bunch of men in their 30s. All are in shorts, rather pasty, with the beginnings of a paunch. A bearded giant by the name of Oliver Luckett played rap on the kind of small, tube-shaped boombox often used by teenagers in parks. The others nodded. Before that, he worked for Disney. In the digital empire, he is a Minister of Propaganda. Over on a sandbar, I saw a catamaran with a dozen people next to it. Perhaps Branson is there. He led me over to a shack filled with surfboards, sails, and snorkels. On the wall hung a photo of Branson, grinning broadly for the camera, flying over the water as the wind blows his hair. He is on a surfboard, holding a kite-sail in front of him while a nude model hangs on him like a backpack. A Dutchman in his 50s, who introduces himself as Marc, wanted to try paddleboarding, so I decided to join him. Marc invests in startups. He flew in from Vancouver. The trainer positions the board on some calm water for us. And the founder of Visa? In the tropical pub, I ran into Michael J. He looked like one of those classic American war reporters on TV with their oversize microphones, only that he is Australian. We ordered Painkillers, an excellent coconut-based cocktail, and started chatting. Negative interest rates. Of course, people are looking to other assets, houses or whatever. But what are they supposed to use for currency? Meanwhile, the entire international economy depends on two central banks. Do you call that stable? Bitcoin is the alternative to this broken money system. For this budget rate, the Australian had to share the room with the elderly futurist Marshall Thurber. Out on the balcony, Casey filmed the sunset. The first guests had arrived the day before, but no one was really clear on the specifics of the program. Back at the big hall, Casey plopped onto a sofa next to a plump bald man in a wine-red polo shirt. He was telling the story of how he wrote the constitution of Peru. This was Hernando de Soto. That morning, the Peruvian had primed the participants for their mission: to bring capitalism to life. For true capitalism does not yet exist. Poverty, according to the theory that brought de Soto international fame, is not exploitation, but exclusion. In other words, people are unable to participate in capitalism because they have nothing to bargain with. Slum residents, for example, build huts but cannot own them, as there is no place and no law that will register them. If they had some kind of official paper, a certified claim to the property, a title, the hut would be worth something. They could sell it, or take on debt to start a business. To raise people out of poverty, therefore, their valuables must somehow be linked to them as individuals. They must have property rights. In most countries, this is next to impossible. De Soto opened a folder of papers: the three dozen applications necessary to register a company in Peru. If such situations were remedied, world poverty would end, and true capitalism would blossom. The participants were rapt. Now he is leading the Digital Currency Initiative at the Media Lab of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, as well as traveling around the world convincing governments and companies to give the blockchain a try. We were greeted at the dinner party by hundreds of screeching flamingos. A fire was burning, chefs stood at the buffet, and a long, white table was waiting. Suits are the mantel of civilization, too confining. Suddenly, a shark fin appeared in the sea behind the buffet. One of the guests giggled and tossed a chicken drumstick into the water. I sat across from Paul Brody, a slim executive from San Francisco with short, greying hair. Cheerfully, he spoke in a nasal voice of being wiped off the tennis court by Branson at seven in the morning. Brody is a minor star in Silicon Valley. Somehow we get onto the subject of cycling. We have to take them out of the equation. At the moment, he is looking for investors to help him put mini-satellites into orbit for a special bitcoin network. Later, I ran into a group of people lounging on a sofa, passing around an e-cigarette filled with liquid marijuana. He grabbed a glass of fruit juice and walked away with his muesli. The blockchain would, in essence, allow capitalism to more fully move into the realm of the internet. The life of a billionaire, I had begun to understand, is like a reality TV competition. De Soto, Forde, Casey, and Luckett sat around Branson, all of them trying to sell him on their projects and plans in as few sentences as possible. Branson, with an estimated worth of five billion dollars and a reputation for wild business ideas, is an amazing opportunity. An elevator manufacturer once suggested to Branson that he install one here on the island expressly for elevator pitches. Branson listened calmly, eating his muesli and sipping coffee. Now and then, he asked a question in his gentle voice. His pronounced stutter is well under control. At around ten, we arrived at the main event. The 35 attendees, who include seven women, gather around the flatscreen in the big hall. Some of them have prepared short presentations. Brody, the star executive, explains that in the near future practically everything will be online. And what happens to things when they go online? We record their usage, start measuring their capacity, and try to increase it. Like fitness, thanks to Fitbit wristbands that count our steps. De Soto beamed. This has always failed in the past, because in digital environments, everything is so easy to copy. Therefore nothing is scarce, which is why digital content, like music, images, and text, is almost always free, or extremely protected. A digital magazine based on the blockchain system would have unique copies, just like a printed magazine. It could be bought and sold like a physical object. Administrative staff would be unnecessary. Deegan is optimistic. The blockchain, it seems, could automate bureaucracy. It could replace millions of employees. A moonshot. All of this dramatically serves the common good, most of the speakers say during their presentations. One speaker invoked the visionary architect Buckminster Fuller, a kind of Abraham in the epic of Silicon Valley. Like the taxi service Uber, where customers rate drivers and drivers rate customers, but for all of life, visible to everyone. The problem for the guests, it seems, is that the business case for Buckys vision is not obvious. The reactions in the audience were mixed. Friendly applause. To conclude, Luckett—the Rolls Royce burner—demonstrated that the development of the internet and the blockchain are not only spiritually correct, but deeply natural. Nature too is organized in networks. As proof, he showed pictures of networks of mushrooms next to visualizations of social media networks. The applause was frenetic. During a short pause, the participants gathered on the giant chess terrace for a 3D group picture. As the picture-snapping drone approached from the blue skies, everyone raised their arms in a group cheer. At lunch, served in the lower pool, the mood was euphoric. As I sank into the water, a girl launched a little boat laden with drinks in my direction. A French star-chef served cuisine in his swim trunks. Lawyers, notaries, bankers—they just do what the blockchain does automatically. Over coconut water at the bar, I talked to an investment banker with gelled blond hair. He was high. Huge monitoring costs … I think efficiency is going to increase tremendously. The party guests have arrived. The fresh fish was excellent, and must have been flown in from far away, as a strange virus had made the local fish inedible. A dark-haired man in his mid-thirties paddled near me. He trades in bitcoin and commutes between London and France. His eyes gleamed. All of that will be unnecessary. We climbed out of the pool, and a thin young Arab man stood before me. He might be richer than Branson. In any case, Branson forbid him from bringing his bodyguards to the island. On the beach, I grabbed a snorkel. I swam along the ocean floor, passing a ball-shaped creature. It was half a meter wide and pulsing. Strange, large fish were everywhere. Around seven, I met Tina Hui, who runs a social media site about bitcoin. She posts updates constantly, even while doing her makeup. We made it to the tropical pub just in time. The table is U-shaped. There were now some seventy guests on the island. I spotted Brock Pierce, Michael Zeldin, and several ladies in dresses. Torches were stuck in the sand. Across from me sat Ted Rogers, who looks like the captain of a rowing team. Rogers is president of the bitcoin vault Xapo, which Larry Summers joined after ending his candidacy for president of the Federal Reserve. Xapo has one of its legal headquarters in Argentina, another one in Switzerland. He finds the culture of privacy and the hands-off government optimal. You can talk to them. There are two kinds of billionaire. One makes money off the system. Branson makes money off its destruction. Cello music wafted over the tennis court and the guests reclined on pillows arranged in a semi-circle, while Branson sat enthroned on a sofa with the sheikh to his left. De Soto stands. His act is next. And for a brief moment, Branson was alone. He nodded, baring his teeth to smile. The police got involved, of course, and the media was there, filming everything. He made a fist, scanning the crowd. From caput —head. Branson looked like a boy seeing his model airplane lift off the ground for the first time. The others joined him and the applause nearly filled the island. This article first appeared in German in Das Magazin. By Joseph Cox. By Matthew Gault. By Jordan Pearson. Share: X Facebook Share Copied to clipboard. Videos by VICE. Ethereum Is Finally Green. Now What?