Blockchains like Ethereum are often compared to a digital global computer. But for now, it's a very slow and expensive computer. The network can only process a small number of transactions per second, and when demand is high, the competition for this limited space drives transaction fees, or "gas," to exorbitant levels.
In the world of traditional software, a bug is an inconvenience. It might cause a program to crash or behave unexpectedly, and it can usually be fixed with a quick patch. In the world of blockchain, a bug in a smart contract can be a catastrophe.
For decades, the world of data analytics ran on a predictable, leisurely rhythm. Data was collected throughout the day, bundled up, and then processed in large, nightly batches. Business leaders would come into the office the next morning to find reports on their desks detailing what happened yesterday. This batch processing model served us well for a long time.
Take a moment to think about your identity online. It’s not really yours, is it? It’s a collection of scattered fragments, a username here, a profile there, all held in databases owned and controlled by a handful of massive corporations. Your Google account gives you access to your email and documents. Your Facebook profile connects you to your friends. Your Apple ID controls your apps and media.
When smart contracts first burst onto the scene with the launch of Ethereum, they came with a grand and revolutionary promise. They were touted as "world computers," autonomous agents capable of executing agreements with perfect, unstoppable logic. The vision was one of fully automated, trustless systems that could replace lawyers, brokers, and escrow agents.
In the digital graveyard of the internet, there is a special section reserved for failed blockchain projects. It’s a vast and sprawling plot, filled with the ghosts of ambitious ideas and forgotten whitepapers. While many of these projects failed for technical reasons or a lack of market fit, a huge number of them share a common, fatal flaw.
In the quest to become data-driven, almost every large organization over the past decade has followed the same playbook. They embarked on massive projects to build a centralized data lake or a cloud data warehouse.
For centuries, contracts have been the bedrock of commerce. They are promises written on paper, enforced by lawyers and courts. But what if a contract could enforce itself? What if it were a piece of code that automatically executed its terms the moment certain conditions were met, with no need for a middleman?