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#Clarity法案最新草案 Wall Street's Guillotine: When Stablecoin "Yield Frenzy" Gets Zeroed Out by Politicians with One Click!
On March 24, 2026, on Wall Street, the air reeked of blood. Just yesterday, those Web3 elites still clinking champagne glasses in Manhattan penthouses celebrating crypto's regulatory compliance, were kicked off their balconies by a draft that flew in from Washington.
Circle (ticker: CRCL), the stablecoin issuer championing "absolute compliance," experienced an epic meltdown on the US stock market opening, with its stock price plummeting 19% like a kite with cut strings, not only ruthlessly piercing through the 21-day moving average support, but also marking the company's most brutal single-day decline in history.
In the face of this avalanche, nobody could stand aside. As Circle's closest ally and primary distribution channel, the number-one crypto stock Coinbase (ticker: COIN) also dove roughly 9%, instantly breaking through its 50-day lifeline. The culprit behind all this wasn't a hacker attack or code vulnerability, but a latest revised draft called the "Digital Asset Market Clarity Act" (Clarity Act).
This text hammered out by Senators Thom Tillis and Angela Alsobrooks in closed-door meetings took just one offhand sentence to precisely sever the main artery of the entire centralized stablecoin industry: comprehensively ban any "passive yield" behavior for stablecoin holders, and kill off all revenue structures that are "economically equivalent to interest." In this magical capital market, you thought you were revolutionizing decentralization, but politicians saw clearly that you were just doing unlicensed deposit-taking of traditional banking under the guise of blockchain. When the regulatory scythe truly swings down, those financial arbitrage games wrapped in geek jargon instantly reveal their true nature.
Unplugging the "toll fee" money-printing machine
To understand the root logic of this crash, you first need to strip off the glossy "tech company" veneer that stablecoin issuers wear and see how they really make money. This isn't some impenetrable cyberpunk tech; it's a devastatingly simple passive income business.
Take Circle as an example—USDC currently has a market cap of $78.6 billion. What does this mean? It means $78.6 billion in real money has been handed to Circle for free. In the traditional financial world, when you deposit money in a bank, the bank still has to begrudgingly pay you interest. But in this crypto game called the "toll fee model," Circle takes these tens of billions of dollars to purchase absolutely safe short-term US Treasury bonds, earning risk-free fat returns, while early USDC holders don't get a single penny.
To make this flywheel spin faster and get more people to exchange their money for USDC, Circle and Coinbase built what could be called a genius "interest transfer pipeline." While the previously passed GENIUS Act explicitly prohibited stablecoin issuers from directly paying interest to users, capital is always smarter than law.
Circle divides a huge chunk of the returns generated by Treasury reserves with Coinbase, and Coinbase then uses "reward programs" on its platform to return these funds to USDC holders under various names. In analysts' eyes, USDC's yield business contributed nearly 20% of Coinbase's total revenue. This formed a perfect closed loop: users got deposit-like returns, platforms got massive liquidity, and issuers expanded market share.
But the Clarity Act's latest draft is like an irritable OCD sufferer that directly kicked over this carefully designed interest distribution table. The draft explicitly states that not only direct interest payments are forbidden, but any "channel model economically equivalent to interest" must be completely eliminated. It's like you're collecting tolls at a crossroads—previously the police wouldn't let you collect cash directly, so you had drivers buy your overpriced bottled water; now the police tell you that as long as drivers pay money, no matter what form it takes, it's all robbery.
Keyrock's digital asset researcher Amir Hajian hit the nail on the head—this directly drained the core momentum driving stablecoin adoption. When the plug is callously pulled from this money-printing machine, Circle's stock naturally can only undergo the most brutal value correction, falling 170% since February.
The old money's fear and the community bank's defensive battle
You might ask why Washington politicians suddenly came down so hard on stablecoins' yield mechanisms? Are they really trying to protect those cryptocurrency gamblers who've gone mad killing retail investors?
Don't be naive. In this world, the only force that can make politicians achieve cross-party consensus so efficiently is the extreme fear of old money. The essence of this legislation isn't regulatory guidance for tech innovation at all—it's a naked defensive war for traditional bank deposits. Over the past two years, traditional banks have had tough times, especially those community banks scattered across US states that rely on absorbing local residents' deposits to loan to small and medium enterprises. When the Federal Reserve maintains a high-rate environment, traditional banks squeeze deposit interest rates to control funding costs. Meanwhile, USDC in crypto exchanges can easily provide highly attractive "current account rewards" through the transmission of reserve returns.
The lobbying groups of the American Bankers Association are famous for their iron fists on Capitol Hill. In their view, if stablecoins are allowed to continue paying disguised interest, it's no longer self-entertainment within the crypto circle—it's openly siphoning deposits from the traditional banking system. Capital is extremely intelligent; once the public realizes they just need to download a Coinbase app to get much higher passive returns than their corner community bank, a deposit exodus becomes inevitable. This would be a devastating blow to traditional finance's credit capacity and survival foundation. Consequently, this draft's compromise is extremely precise and vicious.
Legislators made a clear cut: allow stablecoin rewards based on "transaction activity," but absolutely forbid passive yield based on "balance." In other words, you can encourage users to consume, transfer, or generate flows with stablecoins like credit card points, but you absolutely cannot let users earn money just by keeping cash in their accounts. Politicians used legal boundaries to forcibly push stablecoins back to their original purpose—a pure payment tool, not a high-yield deposit account dressed in digital clothing.
This isn't just a dimensionally downgraded blow to Circle's core business model; it's a successful Wall Street old money sniper attack on Silicon Valley's finance new money.
Tether's black humor: An offshore pirate's "reverse compliance" backstab
If Circle's stock crash is a tragedy, then another incident in the broader crypto market that day turns this play into an absurd black comedy. While the well-behaved Circle—audited annually by Deloitte and desperately courting US regulators—was being ground into the dirt by its own government's legislation, its biggest enemy, the offshore giant Tether (USDT) playing in regulatory gray areas, dropped a bombshell the same day. With a market cap of $184 billion, firmly holding the stablecoin throne, USDT announced it has hired one of the world's "Big Four" accounting firms for the first full, formal audit of its reserves. This news is the ultimate psychological assault on Circle.
Since its birth in 2014, Tether has been questioned by countless short-sellers and regulators about its reserve transparency, previously only willing to provide vague quarterly "proofs," refusing even proper audit reports. Through this savage growth, USDT captured most of the world's liquidity. Now the plot reverses. When Circle faces the US domestic legal machine precisely controlling its income model due to being too compliant, Tether—already raking in enormous profits in its outlaw mode—buys a top accounting firm's credit endorsement with the massive wealth it's earned.
This is an extremely arrogant dimensionally downgraded blow: Circle worked hard to build compliance barriers that I, Tether, can buy with money; and the domestic regulatory meat grinder you now face, I don't need to bother with as an offshore issuer. In Wall Street institutions' eyes, this contrast is extremely lethal. If Tether truly passes the Big Four's comprehensive audit, washing away its long-standing lack of transparency, its risk rating in institutional investors' eyes will drop significantly. On one side is USDC, constrained by the Clarity Act, unable to even give users interest without facing legal suits; on the other is USDT, about to receive top-tier endorsement with zero constraints from America's harsh domestic legislation. Capital won't need a second thought on which to choose.
Tether announcing the audit at this critical moment is absolutely a carefully calculated public opinion battle—not only stabbing Circle in the back, but raising a glittering middle finger at Washington's entire regulatory system.
The cruel narrative of "yield assets" degrading into "entertainment credits"
The panic sparked by the draft is still spreading, while its deep restructuring of the entire crypto finance landscape is just beginning. Stablecoins losing their passive yield ability face a cruel genetic downgrade: they'll be forced from a "yield asset" with compound interest capability to a pure medium with zero time value. Bluntly speaking, just a pile of cyber-entertainment credits for settlement transactions only. This degradation deals structural blows to the DeFi ecosystem. Previously, lots of conservative capital was willing to stay on-chain because base stablecoins themselves came with risk-free returns, providing a solid foundation for the entire DeFi Lego architecture. Once the Clarity Act completely blocks the central issuers' interest transfer paths, users accustomed to passive income face two choices: either bear extremely high smart contract risks and cascading liquidation risks, throwing stablecoins into decentralized lending protocols that could collapse anytime to scrape tiny returns; or simply withdraw money back into the traditional banking system. Either way leads to irreversible contraction of overall crypto market liquidity.
But capital never sits idle waiting to die. As Bitwise's research head Ryan Rasmussen predicted, this market will definitely spawn new workaround monetization tricks. Since you can't directly call it "interest," nor can it be "economically equivalent to interest" structurally, platforms will definitely force financial engineers to become literary masters and game designers. We can foresee the future crypto market will surge with extremely complex "loyalty programs," "activity mining," or "ecosystem contribution value rewards." Users might no longer earn returns because they have money in accounts, but must complete meaningless clicks, transfers, or interactions daily on platforms to get their share of dividends. This is undoubtedly a huge step backward and tragedy.
To cope with rigid regulatory rules, the entire industry must complexify, distort, and even gamify what was originally an efficient, transparent distribution mechanism. Clear Street analysts try to comfort markets, arguing current selling is an overreaction of "shooting first, asking questions later," after all Circle still holds 30% of a market destined to expand tenfold. But this cannot hide a cold fact: before absolute regulatory power, crypto's financial innovation remains fragile enough to collapse at any moment. The moment politicians compromised at oak tables on Capitol Hill, stablecoins' golden age of passive income was completely nailed shut in history's coffin.
On March 24, 2026, on Wall Street, the air reeked of blood. Just yesterday, those Web3 elites still clinking champagne glasses in Manhattan penthouses celebrating crypto's regulatory compliance, were kicked off their balconies by a draft that flew in from Washington.
Circle (ticker: CRCL), the stablecoin issuer championing "absolute compliance," experienced an epic meltdown on the US stock market opening, with its stock price plummeting 19% like a kite with cut strings, not only ruthlessly piercing through the 21-day moving average support, but also marking the company's most brutal single-day decline in history.
In the face of this avalanche, nobody could stand aside. As Circle's closest ally and primary distribution channel, the number-one crypto stock Coinbase (ticker: COIN) also dove roughly 9%, instantly breaking through its 50-day lifeline. The culprit behind all this wasn't a hacker attack or code vulnerability, but a latest revised draft called the "Digital Asset Market Clarity Act" (Clarity Act).
This text hammered out by Senators Thom Tillis and Angela Alsobrooks in closed-door meetings took just one offhand sentence to precisely sever the main artery of the entire centralized stablecoin industry: comprehensively ban any "passive yield" behavior for stablecoin holders, and kill off all revenue structures that are "economically equivalent to interest." In this magical capital market, you thought you were revolutionizing decentralization, but politicians saw clearly that you were just doing unlicensed deposit-taking of traditional banking under the guise of blockchain. When the regulatory scythe truly swings down, those financial arbitrage games wrapped in geek jargon instantly reveal their true nature.
Unplugging the "toll fee" money-printing machine
To understand the root logic of this crash, you first need to strip off the glossy "tech company" veneer that stablecoin issuers wear and see how they really make money. This isn't some impenetrable cyberpunk tech; it's a devastatingly simple passive income business.
Take Circle as an example—USDC currently has a market cap of $78.6 billion. What does this mean? It means $78.6 billion in real money has been handed to Circle for free. In the traditional financial world, when you deposit money in a bank, the bank still has to begrudgingly pay you interest. But in this crypto game called the "toll fee model," Circle takes these tens of billions of dollars to purchase absolutely safe short-term US Treasury bonds, earning risk-free fat returns, while early USDC holders don't get a single penny.
To make this flywheel spin faster and get more people to exchange their money for USDC, Circle and Coinbase built what could be called a genius "interest transfer pipeline." While the previously passed GENIUS Act explicitly prohibited stablecoin issuers from directly paying interest to users, capital is always smarter than law.
Circle divides a huge chunk of the returns generated by Treasury reserves with Coinbase, and Coinbase then uses "reward programs" on its platform to return these funds to USDC holders under various names. In analysts' eyes, USDC's yield business contributed nearly 20% of Coinbase's total revenue. This formed a perfect closed loop: users got deposit-like returns, platforms got massive liquidity, and issuers expanded market share.
But the Clarity Act's latest draft is like an irritable OCD sufferer that directly kicked over this carefully designed interest distribution table. The draft explicitly states that not only direct interest payments are forbidden, but any "channel model economically equivalent to interest" must be completely eliminated. It's like you're collecting tolls at a crossroads—previously the police wouldn't let you collect cash directly, so you had drivers buy your overpriced bottled water; now the police tell you that as long as drivers pay money, no matter what form it takes, it's all robbery.
Keyrock's digital asset researcher Amir Hajian hit the nail on the head—this directly drained the core momentum driving stablecoin adoption. When the plug is callously pulled from this money-printing machine, Circle's stock naturally can only undergo the most brutal value correction, falling 170% since February.
The old money's fear and the community bank's defensive battle
You might ask why Washington politicians suddenly came down so hard on stablecoins' yield mechanisms? Are they really trying to protect those cryptocurrency gamblers who've gone mad killing retail investors?
Don't be naive. In this world, the only force that can make politicians achieve cross-party consensus so efficiently is the extreme fear of old money. The essence of this legislation isn't regulatory guidance for tech innovation at all—it's a naked defensive war for traditional bank deposits. Over the past two years, traditional banks have had tough times, especially those community banks scattered across US states that rely on absorbing local residents' deposits to loan to small and medium enterprises. When the Federal Reserve maintains a high-rate environment, traditional banks squeeze deposit interest rates to control funding costs. Meanwhile, USDC in crypto exchanges can easily provide highly attractive "current account rewards" through the transmission of reserve returns.
The lobbying groups of the American Bankers Association are famous for their iron fists on Capitol Hill. In their view, if stablecoins are allowed to continue paying disguised interest, it's no longer self-entertainment within the crypto circle—it's openly siphoning deposits from the traditional banking system. Capital is extremely intelligent; once the public realizes they just need to download a Coinbase app to get much higher passive returns than their corner community bank, a deposit exodus becomes inevitable. This would be a devastating blow to traditional finance's credit capacity and survival foundation. Consequently, this draft's compromise is extremely precise and vicious.
Legislators made a clear cut: allow stablecoin rewards based on "transaction activity," but absolutely forbid passive yield based on "balance." In other words, you can encourage users to consume, transfer, or generate flows with stablecoins like credit card points, but you absolutely cannot let users earn money just by keeping cash in their accounts. Politicians used legal boundaries to forcibly push stablecoins back to their original purpose—a pure payment tool, not a high-yield deposit account dressed in digital clothing.
This isn't just a dimensionally downgraded blow to Circle's core business model; it's a successful Wall Street old money sniper attack on Silicon Valley's finance new money.
Tether's black humor: An offshore pirate's "reverse compliance" backstab
If Circle's stock crash is a tragedy, then another incident in the broader crypto market that day turns this play into an absurd black comedy. While the well-behaved Circle—audited annually by Deloitte and desperately courting US regulators—was being ground into the dirt by its own government's legislation, its biggest enemy, the offshore giant Tether (USDT) playing in regulatory gray areas, dropped a bombshell the same day. With a market cap of $184 billion, firmly holding the stablecoin throne, USDT announced it has hired one of the world's "Big Four" accounting firms for the first full, formal audit of its reserves. This news is the ultimate psychological assault on Circle.
Since its birth in 2014, Tether has been questioned by countless short-sellers and regulators about its reserve transparency, previously only willing to provide vague quarterly "proofs," refusing even proper audit reports. Through this savage growth, USDT captured most of the world's liquidity. Now the plot reverses. When Circle faces the US domestic legal machine precisely controlling its income model due to being too compliant, Tether—already raking in enormous profits in its outlaw mode—buys a top accounting firm's credit endorsement with the massive wealth it's earned.
This is an extremely arrogant dimensionally downgraded blow: Circle worked hard to build compliance barriers that I, Tether, can buy with money; and the domestic regulatory meat grinder you now face, I don't need to bother with as an offshore issuer. In Wall Street institutions' eyes, this contrast is extremely lethal. If Tether truly passes the Big Four's comprehensive audit, washing away its long-standing lack of transparency, its risk rating in institutional investors' eyes will drop significantly. On one side is USDC, constrained by the Clarity Act, unable to even give users interest without facing legal suits; on the other is USDT, about to receive top-tier endorsement with zero constraints from America's harsh domestic legislation. Capital won't need a second thought on which to choose.
Tether announcing the audit at this critical moment is absolutely a carefully calculated public opinion battle—not only stabbing Circle in the back, but raising a glittering middle finger at Washington's entire regulatory system.
The cruel narrative of "yield assets" degrading into "entertainment credits"
The panic sparked by the draft is still spreading, while its deep restructuring of the entire crypto finance landscape is just beginning. Stablecoins losing their passive yield ability face a cruel genetic downgrade: they'll be forced from a "yield asset" with compound interest capability to a pure medium with zero time value. Bluntly speaking, just a pile of cyber-entertainment credits for settlement transactions only. This degradation deals structural blows to the DeFi ecosystem. Previously, lots of conservative capital was willing to stay on-chain because base stablecoins themselves came with risk-free returns, providing a solid foundation for the entire DeFi Lego architecture. Once the Clarity Act completely blocks the central issuers' interest transfer paths, users accustomed to passive income face two choices: either bear extremely high smart contract risks and cascading liquidation risks, throwing stablecoins into decentralized lending protocols that could collapse anytime to scrape tiny returns; or simply withdraw money back into the traditional banking system. Either way leads to irreversible contraction of overall crypto market liquidity.
But capital never sits idle waiting to die. As Bitwise's research head Ryan Rasmussen predicted, this market will definitely spawn new workaround monetization tricks. Since you can't directly call it "interest," nor can it be "economically equivalent to interest" structurally, platforms will definitely force financial engineers to become literary masters and game designers. We can foresee the future crypto market will surge with extremely complex "loyalty programs," "activity mining," or "ecosystem contribution value rewards." Users might no longer earn returns because they have money in accounts, but must complete meaningless clicks, transfers, or interactions daily on platforms to get their share of dividends. This is undoubtedly a huge step backward and tragedy.
To cope with rigid regulatory rules, the entire industry must complexify, distort, and even gamify what was originally an efficient, transparent distribution mechanism. Clear Street analysts try to comfort markets, arguing current selling is an overreaction of "shooting first, asking questions later," after all Circle still holds 30% of a market destined to expand tenfold. But this cannot hide a cold fact: before absolute regulatory power, crypto's financial innovation remains fragile enough to collapse at any moment. The moment politicians compromised at oak tables on Capitol Hill, stablecoins' golden age of passive income was completely nailed shut in history's coffin.
