
Washington has spent the past several months talking about crypto clarity. What it got this week was something closer to a standoff.
At the center of the latest White House meeting between crypto executives and banking lobbyists was a surprisingly narrow issue that has turned into a major fault line: stablecoin yield.
On paper, the CLARITY Act is supposed to settle jurisdictional turf wars between regulators and create a workable framework for digital assets in the United States. In practice, negotiations have slowed to a crawl over whether stablecoin holders should be allowed to earn rewards.
Crypto companies came to the table expecting to negotiate. Bank representatives arrived with something closer to a red line.
Stablecoin yield sounds simple. Platforms offer incentives, rewards, or returns to users who hold dollar-backed tokens. Sometimes that comes from lending activity. Sometimes it comes from promotional programs. Structurally, it does not always look like a bank deposit.
Banks are not buying that distinction.
From their perspective, if consumers can hold tokenized dollars and earn a return without stepping inside the banking system, that looks a lot like deposit competition. And not just competition, but competition without the same regulatory burden.
Banks operate under capital requirements, liquidity ratios, deposit insurance rules, stress testing frameworks, and layers of federal oversight. Stablecoin issuers, even under proposed legislation, would not be subject to the same regime.
So the banking lobby’s position has been blunt. No yield. Not from issuers, not indirectly through affiliated programs, not in ways that replicate interest-bearing accounts.
The crypto side sees that as overreach.
Publicly, banks frame their opposition as a financial stability issue. If large amounts of capital flow out of insured deposits and into stablecoins offering yield, that could shrink the deposit base that supports lending. In a stress scenario, they argue, the dynamic could amplify volatility.
There is logic there. Deposits are the backbone of bank balance sheets. Disintermediation is not a trivial concern.
But crypto executives are asking a quieter question. If the issue is really about safety, why push for a blanket prohibition rather than tighter guardrails? Why not cap yield structures, restrict how they are funded, or impose disclosure standards?
Why eliminate them entirely?
Some in the industry suspect the answer is competitive pressure. Stablecoins have already become critical plumbing for crypto markets, facilitating trading, settlement, and cross-border transfers. Add yield into the equation and they start to look even more like digital savings instruments.
That begins to encroach on traditional banking territory.
Banks have historically tolerated crypto in its speculative corners. Trading tokens is volatile, niche, and largely outside the core consumer banking relationship.
Stablecoins are different. They are dollar-denominated. They are increasingly integrated into payment systems. They can move across borders faster than traditional rails. And they are programmable.
Now imagine those same tokens offering yield, even modest incentives. The psychological shift for consumers could be meaningful. Why leave idle cash in a checking account earning almost nothing if a tokenized version offers some return and similar liquidity?
To bankers, that is not innovation. That is deposit leakage.
And in a higher rate environment, where funding costs matter, deposit competition becomes more acute.
The CLARITY Act was supposed to resolve long-running disputes between regulators and provide certainty for digital asset firms operating in the United States. Instead, stablecoin yield has turned into the sticking point holding up broader progress.
White House officials have reportedly pressed both sides to find compromise language. So far, that compromise remains elusive.
Crypto firms argue that banning yield outright could push innovation offshore. Jurisdictions in Asia and parts of Europe are moving ahead with stablecoin frameworks that do not automatically prohibit reward structures. The fear in Washington’s crypto circles is that overcorrection could hollow out domestic competitiveness.
Banking groups counter that allowing yield would create a parallel banking system without equivalent safeguards.
The tension is not just technical. It is philosophical.
At its core, this debate is about who gets to intermediate digital dollars.
If stablecoins become widely used and allowed to offer returns, they could evolve beyond trading tools into mainstream financial instruments. That challenges the traditional hierarchy where banks sit at the center of deposit-taking and credit creation.
Banks are not opposed to digital dollars in theory. Many are experimenting with tokenization and blockchain infrastructure themselves. But they want those innovations inside the regulated banking perimeter, not outside of it.
Crypto companies, on the other hand, see decentralization and alternative rails as the point.
So when banks push to ban stablecoin yield entirely, the crypto industry reads it as more than prudence. It looks like an attempt to protect market share.
For now, negotiations continue. There is still political appetite in Washington to pass comprehensive crypto legislation, especially as digital asset markets remain a significant part of the financial system.
But unless lawmakers can thread the needle between stability concerns and competitive fairness, stablecoin yield could remain the issue that stalls everything else.
And that leaves an uncomfortable reality.
If the United States cannot decide whether digital dollars are allowed to earn a return, the market may decide elsewhere.

There’s been a lot of language coming out of Washington lately about stablecoins.
Words like "prudence", "guardrails", and "financial stability" get thrown around whenever the CLARITY Act comes up. Coinbase recently pulled their support amid stablecoin issues in the same bill. But if you take a step back, it’s hard not to feel like something else is driving the intensity of the debate. Big banks don’t usually fight this hard over niche policy details unless there’s something material at stake.
Browsing the web, trying to find my next article for all of you, I came across a recent report from Standard Chartered’s digital assets research team, led by Geoff Kendrick, and it may just help to explain the fight a bit better.
Kendrick’s research doesn’t treat stablecoins as a crypto sideshow. It treats them as a potential alternative home for real money, the kind of money that currently sits in checking and savings accounts. He actually estimated that $500 billion will move from bank deposits to stablecoins by 2028. The idea isn’t that everyone suddenly abandons banks. It’s subtler than that. Even a gradual shift of deposits into stablecoins changes the math for banks in ways they really don’t like. Funding becomes more expensive, liquidity assumptions get weaker, margins get squeezed. Those aren’t ideological concerns. Those are spreadsheet concerns. And spreadsheet concerns really make banks want to fight the issue.
But to understand the real threat to banks, you first have to better understand the business itself. Banks don’t just hold your money. They use it. Under fractional reserve banking, they keep only a slice and lend the rest out to earn interest for themselves. Sure, they'll keep that small portion of your deposit, but the majority gets reinvested through loans and other activities. That’s how they earn money and why they can afford to even pay any interest to you at all, even if it’s usually minimal.
This system works because deposits are assumed to be sticky. People don’t move their money often, and when they do, it usually stays within the banking system. Moving from one bank to another.
Stablecoins challenge that assumption. They make dollars mobile in a way they haven’t been before.
Right now, most stablecoins feel like tools, not destinations. They’re useful for transfers, trading, and crypto-native activity, but they’re not where most people park idle cash. Yield changes that. The moment a stablecoin starts paying something meaningfully better than a traditional savings account, the comparison becomes unavoidable. A digital dollar that moves instantly, works around the clock, and earns yield starts to look less like a crypto product and more like a better bank balance. That’s when stablecoins stop being adjacent to banking and start competing with it.
But, we're still talking mostly about crypto-native people. The real shift happens when stablecoins stop feeling like crypto at all, when they live inside apps people already trust and use every day. When you easily pay for your groceries on your phone without writing down that seed phrase for crypto that sits on a separate wallet that may or may not be linked to payments.
PayPal is already experimenting here. Their Paypal USD (PYUSD) exists inside a platform with hundreds of millions of users, and it already lets people move dollars instantly between PayPal and Venmo for free. That’s everyday payment stuff. It’s not a niche oracles or decentralized exchange use case. It’s peer to peer transfers in apps people use for rent, splitting bills, or sending money to family.
Cash App has also signaled support for stablecoin payments and more flexible money movement options, even if Bitcoin hasn’t become everyday cash yet. The point is simple: If stablecoins actually become integrated into the way regular people pay for things, save for short-term goals, and move money around, they stop being a "crypto thing” and become an alternative store of value and payment rail to banks.
That’s exactly the scenario a bank CFO would find unsettling.
This is why the fight over stablecoin yield inside the CLARITY Act feels so charged. It’s not really about whether stablecoins should exist. That battle is already over. It’s about whether they’re allowed to become a true alternative to bank deposits. If yield stays restricted, stablecoins grow slowly and remain mostly transactional. If yield is allowed under a clear regulatory framework, they start to compete directly with how banks fund themselves. That’s a much bigger shift.
If you take Kendrick’s projections seriously, and I know that I do. I have been in this blockchain industry for a decade now. I have seen the shift from Silk Road and from not even being a second thought in Washington to being a presidential election policy issue and talked about at the highest levels of government, from sea to shining sea.
But pushback from banks does make sense. It’s not panic. It’s defense. Stablecoins that are easy to use, deeply integrated into everyday payment apps, how people spend their money, and capable of earning yield... threaten something fundamental. They threaten the quiet bargain where banks get cheap access to capital and customers accept low returns in exchange for convenience. Seen through that lens, the resistance to stablecoin yield isn’t surprising at all. It’s exactly what you’d expect when a new form of money starts to look a little too good at doing the job banks have always relied on to make money.
I know where I stand on the issue and I'm interested to know what you think. Do banks evolve, embrace stablecoins as inevitability or do they hold on to the old ways for dear life?


If you have spent any real time building, trading, or working in crypto in the U.S., you already know the pattern. The rules are never fully clear. Guidance usually comes after the fact. And “compliance” often feels less like a checklist and more like a guessing game.
That is the environment the Digital Asset Market Clarity Act, better known as the CLARITY Act, is trying to change.
On January 15, 2026, the Senate Banking Committee is scheduled to hold a critical markup session on the bill. That might sound like inside-baseball legislative procedure, but it is not. A markup is where lawmakers decide what a bill really is. Language gets tightened. Loopholes get closed or widened. Entire sections can disappear.
For crypto, this is one of those moments where the future shape of U.S. regulation is actually being decided.
Right now, crypto regulation in the U.S. is reactive.
The laws that exist were written long before blockchains, tokens, or decentralized networks. Regulators have mostly tried to force crypto into frameworks that were never designed for it, often relying on enforcement actions to define the rules retroactively.
CLARITY is an attempt to stop doing that.
The bill starts from a simple premise: not everything in crypto is the same, so it should not all be regulated the same way.
Launching a token to fund a network is not the same as trading that token years later. Writing open-source code is not the same as holding customer funds. Running a wallet is not the same as running an exchange.
Those distinctions sound obvious inside the industry. CLARITY tries to make them explicit in law.
One of the most important ideas in the bill is that a token’s legal treatment should not be locked forever to how it was first sold.
Under the current system, if a token was ever distributed in a way that looks like fundraising, it can carry securities risk indefinitely. Even if the network decentralizes. Even if the original team steps away. Even if the token functions more like a commodity than an investment.
CLARITY tries to separate:
The initial transaction, which may look like an investment contract
The token itself, once it is broadly distributed and actively used
That distinction matters because it opens the door to secondary markets operating without constant legal uncertainty, while still keeping guardrails around early fundraising.
To make that transition possible, CLARITY introduces the concept of a mature blockchain system.
Stripped of legal language, the question is pretty straightforward: does anyone actually control this thing?
If a small group can still unilaterally change the rules, supply, or governance, regulators get more leverage. If control is meaningfully distributed and no one actor is calling the shots, the regulatory burden can ease.
The bill creates a certification process around this idea, with a defined window for regulators to challenge a claim of maturity.
This is one of the most debated sections of the bill. It is also one of the most important. The standard has to be real, but it also has to be achievable. Senate changes here could dramatically affect how useful the bill ends up being.
CLARITY does not remove oversight from token launches. Instead, it tries to make that oversight fit reality.
The bill allows certain token offerings to proceed under an exemption, but only with meaningful disclosures. Projects would need to explain things like:
How token supply and issuance work
What rights, if any, token holders have
How governance actually functions in practice
What the project plans to build and what risks exist
The shift here is away from clever legal gymnastics and toward plain-English transparency. For founders, that could mean fewer surprises and a clearer sense of what is expected.
For U.S. crypto exchanges, CLARITY is largely about secondary markets.
Today, listing a token can feel risky even if that same asset trades freely outside the U.S. The legal line between primary fundraising and secondary trading has never been cleanly drawn.
CLARITY tries to draw that line. If it holds, exchanges would finally have a framework designed specifically for spot crypto markets, instead of trying to fit into rules written for something else.
Another major shift is regulatory jurisdiction.
CLARITY gives the CFTC clear authority over spot markets for digital commodities, not just derivatives. It also creates new registration paths for exchanges, brokers, and dealers that are tailored to how crypto markets actually function.
Importantly, the bill pushes for speed. It directs the CFTC to create an expedited registration process, acknowledging that waiting years for clarity is not realistic in fast-moving markets.
DeFi is where the bill walks a tightrope.
CLARITY says that people should not be treated as regulated intermediaries just for building or maintaining software, running nodes, providing wallets, or supporting non custodial infrastructure. It also makes clear that participating in certain liquidity pools, by itself, should not automatically trigger exchange-level regulation.
At the same time, fraud and manipulation laws still apply.
Supporters see this as long overdue recognition that infrastructure is not the same as custody or brokerage. Critics worry about edge cases, especially where front ends, admin controls, or governance tokens blur the lines.
This is an area where Senate edits could have outsized impact.
The bill also leans toward stronger federal oversight and narrower state-by-state requirements in certain areas.
For companies, that means fewer conflicting regimes and lower compliance friction. For critics, it raises concerns about losing fast-moving state enforcement in an industry that still sees its share of bad actors.
That tension is not going away, and it will likely surface again during markup.
One of the clearest statements in CLARITY is its protection of self custody.
The bill explicitly affirms the right to hold your own crypto and transact peer to peer for lawful purposes. In an environment where indirect restrictions have been a constant fear, putting this into statute is not symbolic. It is structural.
CLARITY also addresses a long-running concern among builders.
The bill says that non-controlling developers and infrastructure providers should not be treated as money transmitters simply for writing code or publishing software, as long as they do not control user funds or transactions.
For many developers, this removes a quiet but persistent legal cloud that has hung over the industry.
The January 15 markup is where all of this either becomes real or starts to unravel.
This is where lawmakers decide how strict the maturity standards are, how wide the DeFi exclusions go, how much authority regulators actually get, and whether the bill delivers usable clarity or just new gray areas.
If CLARITY moves forward in a recognizable form, it becomes the most serious attempt yet to give crypto a durable U.S. market structure. If it does not, the industry likely stays where it is now, building first and hoping the rules catch up later.
This is also the moment where voices outside Washington still matter.
Lawmakers are actively weighing feedback. Staffers are reading messages. Offices are tracking where their constituents stand. Silence gets interpreted as indifference, and indifference makes it easier for complex bills to stall or be watered down.
If you believe crypto should have clear rules instead of enforcement-by-surprise, this is the time to say so.
That means contacting your representatives. Find out who your representative is and where they stand on crypto policy. Tell them that market structure clarity matters. Explain why builders, users, and businesses need predictable rules to stay in the U.S. Explain why self custody, open infrastructure, and lawful innovation should be protected, not pushed offshore.
It also means supporting organizations that are trying to organize that voice.
One such organization is Rare PAC, a political action committee advocating for regulatory clarity, innovation, and economic opportunity powered by decentralized technologies. Rare PAC works to ensure that the United States remains a global leader in those decentralized technologies and supports candidates who are committed to building A Crypto Forward America.
Bills like CLARITY do not pass or fail in a vacuum. They pass because people show up, speak up, and make it clear that getting this right matters.
January 15 is not the end of the process, but it is one of the moments that will shape everything that comes after.