On Tuesday afternoon, separately and within two hours of each other, two
well-known tech websites suggested that they'd solved a mystery that
had eluded the online world for more than half a decade.
They'd found "Satoshi Nakamoto," the pseudonymous creator of Bitcoin.
He
was an Australian named Craig Steven Wright, a 44-year-old former
academic "nobody," as Wired put it. Wright had never before appeared on
the public lists of any Nakamoto-hunters and yet troves of leaked (or
perhaps hacked) documents published by both Wired and the tech blog
Gizmodo seemed to point to him.
Within hours of the two stories'
publication, Wright's online presence had all but vanished, Gizmodo
reported, and Australian authorities were raiding Wright's suburban
Sydney home.
In a statement to the Associated Press, Australian
Federal Police said the searches were related to a tax investigation,
not the recent articles linking Wright to Bitcoin.
But the media
reports and subsequent raid have thrown the virtual currency and its
inscrutable founder back in the spotlight. And if the events of the past
two days seem oddly timed, they're hardly more bizarre than any that
have occurred in the lengthy hunt for "Nakamoto" since Bitcoin launched
seven years ago.
The open source software for Bitcoin, which
allows users to make online transactions anonymously and without going
through banks or other financial institutions, was released in 2009. It
started out more resembling monopoly money than real currency - people
would trade the "coins" (really just lines of code) for favors or even
give them away. But as the exotic system gained popularity, it gained
value.
Now anyone - tech nerds, central bank-averse Libertarians,
criminals - can use Bitcoins for anything from ordering pizza to
trafficking drugs. Their value fluctuates wildly, but at the moment one
is worth about $415, according to the AP.
But as the currency
became a financial force unto itself, its creator - a person or group of
people calling themselves "Satoshi Nakamoto," though there are no known
coders who go by that name - remained enigmatic.
"Back then, it
was not clear that creating Bitcoin might be a legal thing to do,"
Bitcoin's chief scientist, Gavin Andresen, told Newsweek last year.
"[Nakamoto] went to great lengths to protect his anonymity."
Then,
in 2011, with a message to a developer that read simply, "I've moved on
to other things," Nakamoto disappeared, leaving fans of the currency
and nosy tech journalists with few clues as to his, her or their true
identity.
Here's what we do know:
In his initial writings
about Bitcoin, Nakamoto claimed to be a 36-year-old from Japan who had
been driven by anger about the 2008 financial crisis to try and invent
an alternative. But many Nakamoto-hunters believe their man (or woman)
is a native English speaker: the person who blogged about Bitcoin
extensively before signing off in 2011 wrote in flawless English and
tended to use British spellings - "colour," "grey" - once described
something as "bloody hard" and embedded a reference to the Times of
London into the "genesis" lines of code that got the currency started,
according to the New Yorker.
In 2011 Stefan Thomas, a Swiss coder
and active member of the Bitcoin community, graphed the time stamps for
each of Nakamoto's 500-plus Bitcoin forum posts. He found, according to
Wired, that Nakamoto was rarely writing between 5 a.m. and 11 a.m.
Greenwich Mean Time (midnight to 6 a.m. Eastern Standard Time), even on
Saturdays and Sundays. Perhaps the elusive currency creator was an East
Coaster who slept during those hours?
But those hints are largely
circumstantial. The potentially biggest clue is a million-coin trove
stored behind an encrypted signature known as a PGP key. The stash is
plainly visible in public record of all Bitcoin transactions called the
"block chain" and is widely thought to belong to Nakamoto, according to
Wired.
Someone moving coins from that trove would offer the best
confirmation that they were the real Nakamoto. But the release of $400
million worth of Bitcoins would also likely destabilize the currency and
throw the online financial world into chaos.
So far, the stash remains untouched.
It
is with this scant evidence that Nakamoto hunters go seeking their
elusive target - so far, with little luck. Writing in the New Yorker in
2011, Joshua Davis floated the idea that Irish cryptography student
Michael Clear might be responsible for Bitcoin; he emphatically denied
it.
"I'm not Satoshi," Clear told Davis. "But even if I was I wouldn't tell you."
Later
that year, Fast Company ran its own investigation, searching the web
for key phrases pulled from Nakamoto's initial Bitcoin paper, based on
the logic that writers tend to repeat favorite phrases. That brought up a
patent for an encrypted communication system. But when the reporter
contacted the three men who filed the patent, they too denied any
involvement. One said he had to look "Bitcoin" up on Wikipedia to figure
out what it was.
Other suspects include: Andresen, a prominent
developer for Bitcoin and the chief scientist of the Bitcoin Foundation,
"the closest thing to a central authority in the world of Bitcoin," in
the words of the MIT Tech Review; Shinichi Mochizuki, a brilliant
Japanese American mathematician who once solved one of the world's
hardest math problems, quietly posted his solution on the Internet, and
walked away; Jed McCaleb, who started the world's largest Bitcoin
exchange; and Nick Szabo, a cryptographer and legal scholar who had been
working on digital currency for more than a decade before Bitcoin was
launched.
Then there's Hal Finney, the first person to actually
use Bitcoin - aside, of course, from Nakamoto himself. A reporter for
Forbes had a language analysis firm compare Finney's writing to the
creator's fluid blogposts, and found a surprising degree of similarity.
What's more, Finney had talked about the idea of a digital currency on
email lists as far back as the early '90s, and he helped develop PGP -
the encryption program that protects, among millions of other files,
Nakamoto's million-Bitcoin stash.
But Finney responded to Forbes' questions the way they all did.
"I'm flattered but I deny categorically these allegations," he wrote in an email. "I don't know what more I can say."
The
splashiest - and most disastrous - declaration of Nakamoto's true
identity came last year, when Newsweek ran a cover story titled "The
Face Behind Bitcoin."
The true identity of Satoshi Nakamoto,
reporter Leah McGrath Goodman wrote, was a 64-year-old Californian named
Satoshi Nakamoto, though he now went by Dorian. He was trained as a
physicist and a veteran of a long career in engineering and military
related projects, plus he had the libertarian bent that characterizes so
many Bitcoin admirers. In a confrontation with Goodman in front of his
home and two Temple City, Calif., police officers (who confirmed the
quote), he seemed to tacitly acknowledge his involvement.
"I am no
longer involved in that and I cannot discuss it," he said "It's been
turned over to other people. They are in charge of it now. I no longer
have any connection."
But after Newsweek's story ran and reporters
began clamoring for interviews - resulting in a car chase through the
streets of Los Angeles - he quickly reached back out to the magazine
with a statement via his lawyer: Dorian Nakamoto had nothing to do with
Bitcoin, he thought that Goodman was referring to his military projects,
he wanted all this attention to go away.
Just after that, a statement appeared from the "real" Satoshi Nakamoto's in an Bitcoin forum: "I am not Dorian Nakamoto."
There
was a bit of a lull in purported Nakamoto-outings after the dust
settled from the Newsweek debacle. If anything, the incident seemed to
illustrate just how perilous any claims to have found the elusive
creator can be - after all, it really did seem like Dorian Nakamoto had
admitted to being involved.
But Wired and Gizmodo seem to believe
the evidence that Wright and his friend American computer forensics
analyst David Kleiman, who died in 2013, are behind Bitcoin was worth
taking a risk for.
Their assertion relies mostly on documents
leaked by people close to Wright, including a transcript from a
conversation between Wright, his attorney and the Australian Taxation
Office in which Wright says, "I did my best to try and hide the fact
that I've been running Bitcoin since 2009. By the end of this I think
half the world is going to bloody know."
It's not clear whether
the same person leaked the documents to both Wired and Gizmodo - some
details of their reports differ. Wired also uncovered a liquidation
report on a company Wright owned that showed he'd invested several
millions of dollars in Bitcoins in the company - "a strangely large
stash for an unknown player in the Bitcoin world," Wired said.
Wright did not respond to requests for comment from either site.
Both reports acknowledge that the leaked documents could be a hoax, particularly Wired.
"But
this much is clear," Wired reported. "If Wright is seeking to fake his
Nakamoto connection, his hoax would be practically as ambitious as
Bitcoin itself."
Other tech sites have already thrown some cold
water on Wired and Gizmodo's reveals (Motherboard, for example, wrote a
lengthy analysis of disparities in PGP codes, about 20 percent of which
is intelligible to the lay Bitcoin observer).
But the fact remains
that people desperately want to know who Nakamoto is. Bitcoin is
currently dealing with a dispute about how currency is created, and some
would like Nakamoto to re-emerge to intervene, according to the AP.
There's also the matter of the PGP-protected stash of $400 million (roughly Rs. 2,672 crores) in
Bitcoin that could totally alter the market.
And then there's the
fact that so many Bitcoin users are computer scientists and
cryptographers, people who have built worlds online and delight in
deconstructing others'.
Nakamoto is yet another cipher. Just begging to be solved.
© 2015 The Washington Post