How Traditional Banks Are Trying to Undermine Cryptocurrency

Cryptocurrency — from Bitcoin to stablecoins — was created in part as an alternative to traditional financial systems that many saw as resistant to innovation, slow, centralized, and costly. The complex relationship between traditional banks and cryptocurrency is coming under increasing scrutiny. But in 2025–2026, the tension between the old financial establishment and the crypto world is more visible than ever, especially as traditional banks view cryptocurrency as both a challenge and a catalyst for change.

Some of this tension is rooted in competition — crypto threatens aspects of banks’ business models — while other elements reflect regulatory control, influence over legislation, and efforts to shape digital-asset frameworks in ways favorable to incumbent players.

1. Banks Lobbying Against Crypto-Friendly Legislation

One of the most direct flashpoints is the ongoing debate over crypto regulation in the United States. According to recent reporting, traditional banks are at the heart of efforts to manage cryptocurrency legislative outcomes, with both sectors clashing over how rules should be made — highlighting the traditional banks cryptocurrency divide.

For example, Eric Trump recently claimed on Fox Business that major U.S. banks “are doing everything they can” to block or slow down meaningful crypto legislation because they see digital assets as a competitive threat and want to maintain their privileged regulatory status.

The core of this fight often centers on stablecoins — digital assets pegged to fiat currencies — and whether holders should receive returns or rewards. Some banks and their lobbyists argue against yield-bearing stablecoin products, fearing capital outflows or de-posits shifting away from traditional banking products.

2. Regulatory Influence and Institutional Concerns

Traditional banks don’t just oppose legislation overtly — they also leverage their connections with regulators to influence how crypto gets integrated into the broader financial system. This institutional interplay between banks, cryptocurrency, and policymakers remains pivotal.

At Davos in January 2026, discussions around the CLARITY Act highlighted how banks are trying to shape stablecoin regulation. Traditional financial players are concerned that yield-paying stablecoins could erode bank deposit bases, which explains much of their tension with crypto innovators.

This is not merely theoretical — articles about the ongoing debate show how banking interests within legislative frameworks try to emphasize risk, stability, or the need for heavy compliance to slow crypto’s independent growth.

3. Traditional Banking’s Fear of Losing Deposits to Crypto

Beyond regulatory maneuvering, banks are wary of the very real shift of customer funds away from traditional accounts into crypto platforms — a phenomenon sometimes described as a “deposit drain.” This fear underscores the ongoing struggle between established banks and the rapid growth of cryptocurrency, with many analysts citing the traditional banks cryptocurrency rivalry as a major trend for the industry.

A recent industry analysis explains that even small regular transfers to crypto exchanges and wallets can cumulatively reduce banks’ deposit bases over time, eroding their low-cost funding advantages.

Why does this matter? A bank’s core business often depends on holding customer deposits and earning interest on loans. If retail and institutional clients start moving more funds into decentralized finance (DeFi) or self-custody crypto solutions, traditional banks risk becoming irrelevant intermediaries in some financial flows.

4. Historical Opposition and Operational Resistance

This trend isn’t new. Over the last decade, many traditional banks have limited their exposure to cryptocurrency firms due to operational risk concerns, often freezing or closing accounts of clients heavily involved in crypto — even when doing so frustrated the customers. This long-standing opposition has shaped the interaction between traditional banks and the emergence of cryptocurrency businesses, contributing to their sometimes adversarial relationship.

This kind of resistance not only slows adoption but can also make it harder for crypto firms to operate within the existing financial ecosystem — from opening business accounts to bridging fiat and digital assets.

5. How Banks Are Trying to Co-opt the Crypto Narrative

Interestingly, some banks are now adopting a dual strategy — integrating blockchain technology while still shaping regulation in their favor. Rather than fighting crypto outright, they try to keep the innovation but under their control. This approach is just one more example of how traditional banks try to adapt to, and sometimes integrate, the developments in cryptocurrency without relinquishing control.

For instance, regulators have recently given banks more freedom to offer crypto services — including custody and trading — as long as they’re compliant with existing financial rules.

This reveals a subtle shift: instead of trying to destroy crypto, banks are trying to absorb and control it, positioning themselves as the preferred intermediaries for compliant digital-asset services. Ultimately, traditional banks cryptocurrency efforts are trying to preserve their relevance in a rapidly changing financial environment.

Conclusion: A Tug-of-War Between Old and New Finance

Traditional banks are responding to cryptocurrency in multiple ways:

  • Lobbying and influencing legislation to constrain aspects of crypto that might compete directly with banking products or deposit bases.
  • Citing risks and regulatory burdens to slow crypto’s independent growth.
  • Resisting operational engagement with crypto clients when their risk controls or compliance frameworks aren’t suited to decentralized models.
  • Gradually integrating crypto under traditional frameworks, reshaping digital assets to fit within existing financial controls.

The result is not simply “banks want to ruin crypto” as a conspiracy, but rather a powerful incumbent industry using every tool from lobbying to regulatory influence to maintain its dominance. For crypto advocates, the challenge is ensuring that innovation isn’t stifled by regulatory capture and that true competition — not merely assimilation — can thrive. As this relationship develops, the debate over traditional banks cryptocurrency dynamics will remain a focal point for both finance and tech sectors.

Coinbase Pulled Support for a Crypto Bill. That’s a Security Story.

When I first read that Coinbase pulled its support for a major crypto related bill, my reaction was not anger or surprise. It was a quiet sense of familiarity. I have seen this pattern enough times to recognize it for what it is. In fact, this instance is a prime example of the complexities surrounding the Coinbase crypto bill debates that frequently arise in the industry.

Before going further, I should be clear about my bias. I have never really been a fan of Coinbase. That position goes back more than a decade, largely because they have consistently chosen not to support DigiByte, despite DigiByte being one of the oldest and most security focused decentralized networks still operating. That long history matters here, because it frames how I interpret decisions like this one, especially when related to Coinbase and any new crypto bill discussions.

According to reporting from CoinDesk, Coinbase withdrew its backing after changes were made to the bill during the legislative process. The bill shifted, and Coinbase decided it no longer aligned with what they could support. On the surface, this looks like a political or business decision. Underneath it, though, this is really about security and risk. It is worth noting how the ongoing regulatory movement on any crypto bill—especially those involving Coinbase—shows just how the industry landscape shifts.

Centralized platforms live and die by their risk models. Everything they support has to be defensible, auditable, and controllable. Not just from a technical perspective, but from a legal and regulatory one as well. When a bill introduces uncertainty around custody, liability, or compliance, it becomes a security problem for the institution backing it. The safest move is often to step away from legislation such as the Coinbase crypto bill when it creates new risks.

That is not a moral failure. It is a predictable response from a custodial system that is built around minimizing exposure. Moreover, this latest episode involving a Coinbase-backed crypto bill highlights just how quickly regulatory uncertainties can disrupt established procedures.

This is also why I do not buy the narrative that Coinbase is somehow turning against crypto. They are not. They are prioritizing their own operational security. That includes protecting themselves from regulatory ambiguity, enforcement risk, and legal attack surfaces. From their perspective, pulling support is not abandonment. And yet, episodes like the recent crypto bill disagreement serve as illustrations of this pattern.

The uncomfortable part is what this means for users. Simply put, the shifting stance of major exchanges on legislation such as the Coinbase crypto bill alters the user experience in real time.

When your access to crypto depends on an intermediary’s interpretation of risk, your security posture is no longer under your control. Features disappear. Policies change. Support shifts. None of this happens because the underlying networks failed. It happens because the custody layer decided something was no longer safe for them. Consequently, the impact of a Coinbase crypto bill example can directly affect end users’ access and security.

This is where the contrast with protocol level security becomes obvious. Networks like DigiByte do not have a compliance department. They do not have a legal team deciding whether a bill creates unacceptable exposure. Their security model is enforced by code, consensus, and decentralization. There is no central switch to flip when conditions become uncomfortable, and no Coinbase crypto bill to determine their behavior.

That does not make protocols magically immune to risk, but it does mean their risk profile is fundamentally different. It is technical, not political. It is transparent, not discretionary. Unlike compliance moves required by a Coinbase crypto bill, protocol rules are set in code.

This is also why regulatory conversations led primarily by custodial intermediaries will always skew toward control. Security, in that world, means oversight, permissions, and the ability to intervene. In protocol based systems, security means resilience, redundancy, and the absence of single points of failure. In short, issues of the Coinbase crypto bill have little bearing on protocol resilience.

When Coinbase pulls support for a bill, it is not just making a policy statement. It is reinforcing which definition of security it operates under, which often becomes clear during news cycles related to a new crypto bill.

At the end of the day, Coinbase needs permission to exist. It needs regulators, lawmakers, and banking partners to remain comfortable with its role. Protocols do not. When security decisions are driven by permission, support will always be conditional—as seen with any coinbase crypto bill scenario.

🟦 Undermined Takeaway

Security that depends on institutional approval is fragile. Security enforced by code does not need permission. And so, every debate related to a Coinbase-backed crypto bill reminds us why decentralization matters.

Coinbase did not do anything unexpected here. They followed their security model to its logical conclusion. And moments like this are a reminder that crypto’s strongest security properties have never lived at the exchange layer. They have always lived in the protocols underneath—even when the industry is focused on the latest Coinbase crypto bill controversy.

Learning to Leave What No Longer Lives

There comes a moment when survival slowly turns into a choice, and moving on for better mental health becomes a necessity. Not a dramatic turning point or a single defining event, but a quiet realization that carrying everything forward is costing more than letting some of it go. You don’t arrive at this moment suddenly. You arrive tired, reflective, and aware that something has to change.

Part of that change begins with the people around you. Over time, you notice that not everyone walking beside you is actually moving in the same direction. Some relationships exist only in the gravity of your lowest moments, feeding on doubt, guilt, or a version of you that no longer fits. Moving on for better mental health often means letting those people go isn’t an act of anger or punishment. It’s an act of maintenance. Distance becomes a form of self-respect, and silence becomes a boundary that protects what you’re trying to rebuild.

As the noise quiets, you’re left alone with your own choices—and that’s where acceptance begins. Accepting your mistakes doesn’t mean excusing them or pretending they didn’t matter. It means acknowledging them without continuing to bleed from the lesson. You trusted when you shouldn’t have. You stayed longer than you should have. You ignored instincts that were trying to protect you. None of that makes you weak. It means you showed up honestly in situations without guarantees, and you learned the cost of that honesty. This process is a crucial part of moving on for better mental health.

The past still exists, but it starts to lose its authority. Forgetting it doesn’t mean erasing memory or denying what happened. It means recognizing that the past is a reference point, not a permanent address. It can explain how you got here without being allowed to dictate where you go next. The versions of you that were built to survive chaos don’t have to remain in control once the chaos is gone, allowing you to move on.

Eventually, a restart happens—often without ceremony. There’s no announcement, no clean slate, no dramatic reveal. It shows up quietly in new habits, fewer explanations, and a growing refusal to live by expectations that no longer fit. Restarting your life isn’t about becoming someone else; it’s about finally aligning with who you are now, not who you had to be to survive before. This realignment is key to moving on for better mental health.

Living again doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. It means engaging with the world after disappointment instead of withdrawing from it. Healing doesn’t erase scars; it simply stops them from reopening. Growth doesn’t always look loud or impressive—it often looks steady, grounded, and unbothered by the need to prove anything.

That’s what being undermined teaches you. When everything collapses, the foundation reveals itself. And when you rebuild, you don’t recreate what failed. You build something quieter, truer, and more intentional—something that finally belongs to you.

The Quiet Places Teach the Hardest Security Lessons

Gold mining, crypto mining—both chase the same thing: the hope that your next swing uncovers something worth the effort. But the desert teaches what the digital world forgets: valuable security lessons about vulnerability.

In the silence, you learn security lessons that reveal how exposed you really are.
No dashboards. No alerts. No illusions of safety.
Just you, the land, and the truth:

Everything can fail.
Everything has cracks.
And the danger is almost always quiet at first.

Old mineshafts become unpatched vulnerabilities, teaching us essential security lessons.
Fractured rock becomes a chain of trust ready to collapse.
The desert doesn’t lie about risk the way technology does.

And that hits harder when you’ve lived through a digital betrayal—
when what was stolen wasn’t just data, but certainty and peace.

The desert helped give that back through profound security lessons.

Not through answers, but through clarity.
Through stillness.
Through work that refuses to pretend.

Mining teaches you to dig through the layers that fight you. Security teaches you to notice the cracks before they spread, offering security lessons that demand attention most people never give.

Because the truth is simple:

Not every threat is loud.
Not every warning blinks red.
Some whisper—
and you only hear them once you escape the noise.

Hackers: Then vs. Now — What Really Changed?

When considering hackers then vs now, there was a time when the word “hacker” didn’t automatically send a chill down your spine.
Believe it or not, it used to mean something closer to “curious tech kid who can’t stop taking things apart just to see how they work.” Hackers then vs now present a vastly different landscape in terms of intent and impact.

Back then, hackers were explorers.
They poked around systems because the digital world was new and they wanted to understand it.
They weren’t trying to steal your identity or drain your accounts.
They were just… learning.
Experimenting.
Pushing boundaries in ways that actually helped make the internet safer. Indeed, comparing hackers then versus now shows how the landscape has evolved.

That was the era of the original white hats—people who challenged vulnerabilities so the rest of us didn’t have to worry about them.
Their mission was clarity, not chaos, which is starkly opposite to hackers now.

Fast forward to now?
Yeah… it’s a completely different world.

“Hacker” today usually means something far more aggressive:
someone who isn’t just curious, but calculated.
Not exploring—targeting.
Not tinkering—exploiting. In the debate of hackers then and now, there is a clear trend towards exploitation today.

Today’s black hats are organized, funded, and hidden behind layers of anonymity. Speaking of hackers then vs now, they’re not looking for knowledge—they’re looking for leverage.
And they don’t care who gets hurt in the process. This stark contrast between hackers then versus now highlights the shift in motives.

One wrong click, one weak password, one small oversight… and suddenly your entire digital life can be flipped upside down.
I know that firsthand.

Most people don’t realize it, but the digital playground has turned into a battlefield. When comparing hackers from then to now, it becomes clear how the landscape has shifted from innocence to aggression.
And whether you want to or not, you’re standing in the middle of it.

The line between offense and defense is razor-sharp now.
And if you’re online — which we all are — you’re already playing the hackers’ game then versus now.

If you want to know how I survived it, rebuilt from it, and what really happened behind the scenes…
you can read my full story in Undermined at Undermined.com.

Stay aware.
Stay one step ahead.
And most importantly… stay un-undermined.

Invisible Bruises: Recovering From a Mental Crime

How do you recover from a crime you can’t fully explain? It’s as if you’re dealing with invisible bruises from a mental crime—no fingerprints, no shadow, no clear source—just impact. This scenario could be called Invisible Bruises Mental Crime. What do you do when you’re targeted by someone you’ve never met, for reasons you may never understand, in a digital ambush that quietly slips into your life and leaves it permanently altered?

When your assets disappear—assets that today would be worth over $100 million—you’re left with more than financial loss. Invisible Bruises Mental Crime also leaves you with a timeline that no longer fits together, fragments of memories that don’t resolve cleanly, and a lingering feeling that something was watching long before you ever noticed it.

Most people hear the word cybercrime and think of numbers, passwords, logins, or bad luck. They imagine a technical glitch or a wrong click. But no one talks about the mental crime that follows. No one talks about the psychological aftermath of having your digital world invaded. It becomes an experience of invisible bruises from this mental crime, showing us that when the dust settles, the real loss isn’t just money—it’s certainty. You lose trust, safety, and the version of yourself that once believed the world was predictable.

And then comes the cruel reality: you still have to live in the same digital environment that failed you. You still have to use the devices that betrayed you. You still have to log into accounts that didn’t protect you. You still have to navigate the same online spaces that someone else previously slipped into without warning or permission. Rebuilding in that environment feels like trying to heal inside the very place that broke you.

It often resembles PTSD. These are invisible bruises—emotional wounds no one sees, moments that replay in your mind like corrupted footage you can’t quite repair. Trauma doesn’t leave clean edges. It tears, distorts, and hides in the corners of your memory, waiting to resurface unexpectedly.

Some crimes don’t break bones. Some break your internal compass. Some thefts leave no physical evidence, yet scar you in ways you carry every day. These manifestations are what is known as the crime of invisible bruises, mentally subtle yet deeply impactful.

Recovering from a mental crime isn’t about “moving on.” It’s about learning how to exist again in a world that showed you how fragile everything really is. It’s not about resilience in the inspirational sense—it’s about survival. And every time you step back into that digital world, knowing what happened but refusing to let it determine your future, you’re rebuilding yourself. Quietly. Steadily. Relentlessly.

Recovery doesn’t happen in the spotlight. It happens in the shadows you’ve learned to walk through with your eyes open, refusing to let what undermined you define the rest of your story. It’s a mental resilience that roots out the invisible bruises left by such a crime.

If you’ve felt this kind of mental weight—don’t carry it alone.

Digital trauma is still trauma.
Invisible pain is still real pain.
And reaching out for support—professional or personal—is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Talk to someone.
Ask for help.
Your mind deserves the same protection and care as your devices, your accounts, and your digital life.

You’re not broken.
You’re recovering.
And recovery is always easier when you don’t walk through the dark by yourself.

Gratitude, Mental Health, and Digital Security: A Thanksgiving Reflection

Thanksgiving always brings me back to the essentials: family, friends, fellowship… and yes, a perfectly over-engineered turducken that makes you wonder who first said, “You know what this bird needs? Another bird.” Reflecting on gratitude, mental health, and digital security can also be a part of this time of thanks. Gratitude, mental health, and digital security are all important aspects of our modern lives.

But this season also reminds me of something deeper — the quiet battles we all fight behind the scenes.
Some are emotional. Some are digital. And some, like in my book Undermined, are both.

The Mental Health Cost of Being “Always On”

The holidays can be a beautiful escape, but for many, they’re also a trigger. Stress, loneliness, old wounds, and unresolved chapters tend to resurface this time of year.
And in a world where our phones never stop buzzing and security threats never take a holiday, the mind rarely gets the rest it deserves. These are crucial for gratitude, mental health, and digital security.

I learned this the hard way. When your digital life is targeted, it’s not just assets or accounts that get compromised — your sense of safety does too.
That’s the heartbeat of Undermined: recovering from a digital crime that leaves emotional bruises long after the incident is over.

Thanksgiving is a reminder that mental health isn’t a luxury; it’s survival, just like maintaining digital security.

Digital Security Doesn’t Take Time Off

Hackers don’t pause for the holidays.
Scammers don’t say grace and take a long weekend.
And vulnerabilities don’t magically disappear because we’re passing the gravy.

During a season when we’re traveling, shopping online, connecting to unfamiliar networks, and juggling new devices, our attack surface widens — a lot. At such times, gratitude, mental health, and digital security matter more than ever.

So be thankful… and be careful.
A few quick reminders:

  • Enable 2FA everywhere you can
  • Use a backup email or device
  • Watch for phishing scams disguised as holiday deals
  • Resist the urge to click “free gift card” links
  • Lock down your home network before guests arrive
  • And if you’ve got a turducken… don’t leave that unprotected either

The world is decentralized. Our trust shouldn’t be.

A Moment of Appreciation

This year, I’m grateful for the people who kept me grounded, the community that lifted me up, and the strength to keep telling a story many would hide.

If you’re struggling — mentally, emotionally, or digitally — hear this:

You’re not alone.
You’re not broken.
And you’re not done.

Thanksgiving is about connection. Even in a decentralized world, community is what keeps us human.

Happy Thanksgiving — and Pass the Turducken

May your day be safe, may your mind be calm, and may your digital life stay secure while you enjoy the people who matter most.

And to whoever invented the turducken…
Yum yum. You’re the real MVP.

Convenience Has a Cost: What Are You Sacrificing?

We built our lives on convenience. The ongoing debate of convenience vs security arises as we rely more on technology.
Autofill. Auto-login. Clouds that sync before we even think.
We trade friction for speed and pretend it’s harmless.

But convenience is the quiet killer of digital security, highlighting the importance of the convenience vs security debate.

In Undermined by Brian Oakes, I wrote something I learned the hard way:

“You don’t realize how exposed you are until someone else shows you.
And by then, you’re already too late.”

That truth hasn’t changed—people just got more comfortable in the ongoing convenience versus security considerations.

A Digital Heist Doesn’t Knock. It Breaks In.

Most people assume it’ll never happen to them. This is where they err in the ongoing convenience versus security dilemma, often downplaying the severity of the convenience versus security issue.
That’s what I thought too—right up until the minute everything went sideways.

Accounts cracked open.
Devices behaving like they had a mind of their own.
Files shifting, access disappearing, identities peeling away like wet paper.

There’s nothing more unsettling than watching your digital life get rearranged in real-time while everyone around you shrugs and says:

“Well, did you have 2FA on?”

As if two little digits of “extra security” undo a full-scale compromise. It becomes clear then how we balance convenience with security in our lives.
As if you can tape over a breached foundation in the convenience vs security struggle.

So ask yourself—really ask yourself:

If a digital heist hit tomorrow…

  • Do you have a backup device already configured?
  • Do you have real 2FA—hardware keys, not texts? It’s part of the larger conversation of convenience and security.
  • Can you revoke tokens, isolate devices, and lock down accounts without having to Google every step?
  • Can you go dark and rebuild fast?

Most people can’t.
Most people freeze.
Most people assume the companies they trusted will swoop in and save them.

Spoiler: They won’t. The convenience vs security dilemma is often ignored until it’s too late.

Convenience Isn’t Protection. Hope Isn’t Security.

In Undermined, I wrote:

“Security isn’t about paranoia—it’s about preparation.
Paranoia is when you fear a threat.
Preparation is when you accept one exists.”

And that’s the line most people never cross in their attempts to weigh convenience against security.

We built a culture around shortcuts.
Around “just sign in with Google.”
Around saving passwords in browsers and syncing credentials across five devices we never locked down.

The world changed.
Threats evolved.
But people… didn’t adapt in the convenience and security debate.

The question now is simple:

Are you protected?
Or just comfortable?

Because comfort is a vulnerability.
Convenience is an attack surface.
And hoping for the best is the fastest path to getting Undermined in the battle of convenience vs security.

Why Can’t I Just Be Left Alone?

There’s a point where the constant notifications stop being “security alerts” and start becoming something else entirely — a reminder that your digital life is never really yours. This digital harassment can have a serious impact on mental health. Another login attempt. Another “unusual activity detected.” Another threat from someone trying to wedge themselves into your accounts.

And every time it happens, the same question hits me in the chest:

Why should I have to change everything?
Why should I be the one moving my data, rebuilding my accounts, rotating emails, resetting passwords, tearing apart systems that I built… just because somebody else wants to break into them?

Why do I have to reorganize my entire digital world just to be left alone?

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again:
If you don’t think you’re a target, then you already are one.

I learned that the hard way. Once someone decides you’re worth their time — whether it’s a thief, a troll, a scammer, a botnet, or even just some bored person clicking around — your peace becomes collateral damage and negatively impacts your mental health.

And that’s the part that gets to me.
It steals something from you that you’ll never fully get back.

Death by a Thousand Notifications

People imagine “being hacked” as one moment — the big breach, the big theft, the “event.” But that’s not what being undermined actually feels like.

It feels like constant pressure on your mental health due to digital harassment.

You’re not just changing a password — you’re changing your routine, your inbox, your habits, your entire mental map of where things live. You’re rebuilding your life because someone else decided to poke a hole in it.

Every alert steals a little bit of your time.
Every threat steals a little bit of your trust.
Every breach steals a piece of your stability.

And after a while, you start asking yourself questions you never thought you’d ask:

Should I abandon this email altogether?
Should I migrate everything again?
Should I split my identity across more accounts?
Should I wipe the slate clean for the hundredth time?

Why?
Because somebody else refuses to leave you alone.

The Unfair Burden

We don’t talk enough about this part:
When someone tries to undermine you — even if they fail — you still pay the price.

You lose time.
You lose energy.
You lose sleep.
You lose confidence.
You lose the feeling of safety. During digital harassment, mental health can deteriorate over time.

You end up living in a world you didn’t choose.

Most people never realize how many layers of your life tie back to your email address — your logins, your finances, your identity, your digital history. Changing it means tearing up roots and replanting them one by one.

It’s not just a security step.
It’s forced relocation.

And the part that stings?
You didn’t ask for any of this.

Living Undermined Isn’t Just a Story — It’s Exhausting

This is the part of “Undermined” people don’t always see.
Not the theft. Not the breach. Not the recovery.

It’s the after.
The quiet erosion that follows you for years.

The sense that you have to stay one step ahead.
The paranoia that maybe you’re not.
The frustration that you shouldn’t have to think like this at all.

The exhaustion of defending yourself from people who don’t care what they destroy in the process.

You don’t want to rebuild everything.
You don’t want to keep rotating your digital life like a carousel.
You don’t want to carry the weight of other people’s intentions.

You just want to be left alone to manage your mental health amidst digital harassment.

But Here’s the Truth

You can be targeted without ever doing anything wrong.
You can be undermined without ever provoking anyone.
You can be harassed, stalked, breached, or threatened by people who will never know your name — because attacking is easy, and defending is all-consuming.

And that’s why your story matters.
That’s why Undermined matters.

Because you’re not just telling a story about being attacked.

You’re telling the story of what it costs to keep going anyway despite the toll on mental health from digital harassment.

Even the Louvre Got It Wrong: Why “louvre” Was Their Password — And Why You’re Already a Target

When you think about the Louvre, you imagine an impenetrable fortress of history — a place where Mona Lisa’s mysterious smile is guarded behind layers of glass and steel. However, in a surprising turn of events, the idea of a Louvre heist challenges this perception of security. A global icon, visited by millions, hailed as one of humanity’s most precious cultural repositories. You’d expect its digital defenses to be equally formidable.

But it wasn’t, which led to an unexpected Louvre heist.

This year, a story broke that the internal security password used by staff at the Louvre — the literal gateway to sensitive systems and priceless assets — was simply… “louvre.” No symbols. No numbers. No complexity. Just the name of the museum itself, making it easy for a Louvre heist to occur.

It sounds like a joke, but it wasn’t. And the most alarming part? It happens every day.

What the Louvre Can Teach Us About Vulnerability

The Louvre’s password misstep is a perfect mirror of a serious truth: security is only as strong as its weakest link. And often, that weakest link is human behavior.

In my book Undermined, I share how my life was gutted by something similar — not a massive infrastructure flaw or watching a decade of my work be undone by hackers in hoodies — but a series of small, familiar, comfortable decisions. Decisions made without the expectation of a threat, which is reminiscent of a Louvre heist.

I write:

“The real enemy isn’t the hacker typing code in the dark — it’s our belief that we’re safe, that nobody would bother coming after us. Security doesn’t fail when systems break; it fails when confidence does.”

It’s the same assumption that left the Louvre vulnerable — and it’s one I’ve watched thousands of everyday people make themselves.

We’re All Holding Priceless Assets

You might be thinking: “Sure, the Louvre guards billions of dollars of art. Nobody cares about my photos or bank account.” But what was stolen from me wasn’t money — it was time, identity, focus. It was the peace of mind that someone wasn’t rifling through my life like a thief in the night.

Everyone is holding something priceless. Sometimes it’s Bitcoin. Sometimes it’s your future. Sometimes it’s just your peace.

In Chapter 7 of Undermined, I say:

“The digital world isn’t a battlefield of elites and experts — it’s a constant proximity. If you’re online, you’re already standing in the arena. Whether you realize it or not, the game is on.”

The Louvre was targeted not because of what it did wrong — but because it existed. Because it had something to steal. So do you.

Stop Thinking You’re Safe

Here’s the uncomfortable truth I learned the hard way: You don’t need to be important to be targeted. You only need to be accessible.

It’s not paranoia — it’s preparation.

Here’s how you can turn complacency into armor:

  • Stop using meaningful words as passwords — even if they’re obscure to others.
  • Rotate your passwords regularly. You can’t trust the digital world to stay static.
  • Use a password manager — if you can’t remember it, that’s often a good sign.
  • Audit your accounts — all of them. You’d be shocked how many places you exist online.
  • Assume failure, plan recovery. Backup. Encrypt. Repeat.

Because whether you’re guarding The Coronation of Napoleon or your own email account, the consequences of failure are always personal.

This is why Undermined exists. To share the moment I lost—and the path I fought to get back. To warn those still thinking they’re safe. To push the ones who assume they’re invisible into recognizing they’re already visible to predators, bots, scripts, governments, and those who’d simply celebrate destruction.

As I say in the book:

“If you don’t think you are a target, then you already are one.”

Don’t wait to be undermined. Prepare now. Be harder to prey on. And remember: the enemy counts on your apathy.

If even the Louvre can be undone by a weak password, imagine what could be undone in your own life — unless you start taking your security seriously today and avoid a potential Louvre heist scenario.