When traditional financial circles and tech figures raise their glasses to celebrate having found a certain "perfect explanation," they are often making a costly mistake.

Recently, there has been an interesting discussion surrounding the definition of stablecoins. Several financial executives and well-known tech commentators have come forward claiming that stablecoins are nothing more than a "digital stored-value card" version. This statement was quickly echoed widely. It certainly sounds satisfying—reducing complex concepts into familiar, understandable ideas.

But the problem is that this asset class, with a global market cap exceeding $300 billion and an annual trading volume of up to $46 trillion, is being simplified into an analogy of an offline stored-value system. Such simplification may earn nods of approval in conference rooms—it transforms the fear of the unknown into a sense of control over familiar things. Ultimately, isn’t this just the rhetoric of "shadow banking"?

However, for someone who has observed the evolution from the early days of cryptocurrency payment ecosystems to today, this kind of argument appears naive and arrogant. I have seen too many participants from developing countries use cryptocurrencies to hedge exchange rate risks and counteract economic erosion by major powers—issues that cannot be solved by a "stored-value card." This is not just a logical category confusion; it also reflects a condescending cognitive inertia.

Simplifying stablecoins into stored-value cards is essentially using an old, known framework to dismiss the possibilities of new things. They overlook the real applications of stablecoins in cross-border settlements, financial inclusion, hedging tools, and more. What is the function of a stored-value card? Top-up, spending, balance inquiry. But stablecoins do much more: programmability, instant global transfers, smart contract integration, DeFi ecosystem interoperability—these have long surpassed the scope of traditional payment tools.

The most ironic thing is that this "seems perfect" analogy is often the most deceptive. It provides a sense of reassurance, as if the complex world has been understood. Little do they realize, this convenience of understanding stems precisely from the truncation of reality. Financial markets are never short of moments like this—where a seemingly reasonable story leads people astray.

The market will use time to reveal the truth. By then, those who once claimed to have "found the truth" will most likely h