A new US bill says writing Bitcoin software isn't a financial crime

Source: CryptoNewsNet Original Title: A new US bill says writing Bitcoin software isn’t a financial crime Original Link: Two senators have introduced a short bill with an unusually big ambition: to stop US law from treating people who write and publish blockchain software as if they were running a shadow payments company.

The proposal, titled the Blockchain Regulatory Certainty Act of 2026, aims to clarify that “non-controlling” developers and infrastructure providers (i.e., those who don’t have the legal right or unilateral ability to move other people’s funds) should not be swept into the legal bucket reserved for money transmitters.

It’s an argument crypto has been making for years, unfortunately, often in the abstract language of decentralization and autonomy.

But the stakes have become harder to ignore. Prosecutors have tested aggressive theories of liability in high-profile cases involving non-custodial tools, and builders have watched as a patchwork of federal rules and state licensing regimes turned compliance into a guessing game.

In their own 2024 letter to Attorney General Merrick Garland, Sens. Cynthia Lummis and Ron Wyden warned that a broad interpretation of money-transmission law “threatens to criminalize Americans offering non-custodial crypto asset software services.”

The new bill tries to turn that warning into a rule.

The deeper story is that old regulatory architecture, written for Western Union-era wiring and prepaid cards, is straining to map itself onto open-source code, decentralized networks, and software that can be used without the publisher ever touching customer funds.

When code becomes conduct

To understand why a developer might care about being labeled a “money transmitter,” you have to start with how the US polices payments.

At the federal level, FinCEN, the Treasury bureau responsible for anti-money-laundering (AML) rules, treats many payment intermediaries as money services businesses (MSBs).

MSBs must register, run AML programs, file suspicious activity reports, and keep records.

FinCEN’s 2019 guidance lays out the principle in plain terms: Money transmission involves accepting and transmitting “value that substitutes for currency,” and it doesn’t matter whether the value is moved through a bank wire, an app, or a blockchain transaction.

Layered on top is a criminal statute, 18 U.S.C. § 1960, that makes it an offense to knowingly operate an unlicensed money transmitting business.

That “unlicensed” piece can be triggered in multiple ways: by failing to register federally when required, by violating state licensing requirements, or by transmitting funds connected to unlawful activity.

States matter here more than many outsiders realize. Even if a business believes it’s outside federal MSB rules, state money-transmitter licensing can still bite, and it can be expensive, slow, and inconsistent.

Some states interpret their statutes broadly, while others offer clearer exemptions.

For a startup that touches customer funds, this is painful and ultimately familiar.

But for a developer who publishes open-source wallet code, runs a node service, or maintains infrastructure other people use, the idea that they might be forced into the same licensing regime as a remittance shop feels both absurd and existential.

That tension has been on display in the legal fights around privacy tools and DeFi.

The US Justice Department’s prosecution of Tornado Cash co-founder Roman Storm helped crystallize a fear that has hovered over crypto for a decade: that writing software could be treated as operating a financial business, even where the software itself doesn’t hold customer money.

The Justice Department has argued that the service functioned like a money transmitter and should have implemented compliance controls.

Storm’s side has emphasized the autonomy of the code and the lack of custody over users’ funds.

The case did nothing to resolve the policy debate, acting instead as fuel to an already roaring fire.

A jury delivered a mixed outcome in 2025, convicting Storm on an unlicensed money-transmission conspiracy charge while deadlocking or acquitting on more serious counts.

Crypto advocates read the result as a warning flare for developers of non-custodial systems.

Against that backdrop, Lummis and Wyden’s bill is best understood as a bid to draw a bright line between two worlds: software publishing and funds custody.

The “non-controlling” line

The bill itself is compact